Some ninety years ago, a humble cavalcade entered Stockbridge Street after a stony scramble up and down dale from old Haddam on the Connecticut: one lumbering wagon carried valuable luggage-priceless, indeed as it turned out, for, on top of familv bales and books, bobbed the six children of the new minister-David Dudley Field -enchanted like all children to be on a journey, and such an eventful journey! [1] It came to a happy end, after crossing Little Plain [2] (the Dwight meadows), at their new home " on the rise. " (" Linwood, " the present Butler estate.

Here Cyrus, Henry, and Mary were born, nigh the roof- trees of Mark Hopkins and Miss Sedgwick, all cradled under the benign inspiration of the great stone face of Monument Mountain, whose mystic moods Hawthorne affectionately tallied up in the little red house on Makheenac.

From his far-away window to the north the face was not visible, and Monument frequently appears to him as a "headless sphinx, " this morning wrapped in October's "rich Persian shawl" and again-under magnificent sun gleams aslant the valley mist--shining as "burnished copper. " just as in Hawthorne's tale of the Great Stone Face of the White Hills, may there not also have been a prophecy concerning some noble soul born here in Stockbridge vale under the influence of the wondrous Titanic visage of Monument? - some long-forgotten legend, so very old that it " had been murmured by the mountain streams, and whispered, by the winds among the tree-tops " to the forefathers of the Indian inhabitants.

It would appear that the famous Fields were much like other boys, in that when the parsonage caught fire several packs of playing-cards scattered from the good Doctor's desk, much to his horror and glee of the mischievous ones deprived of them. A barrel of sermons burned furiously -"they give more light to the world than if I had preached them, " said Dr. Field. When he went to Curtisville to preach, he would take two of his boys into the pulpit, and Mrs. Field two with her; during the "lastly" and the "long prayer" [3] he would pray with a hand on each boy's head "to be sure they were there. "

Stockbridge and Williamstown are rich in gifts of the Fields and the world in their deeds. Indomitable Cyrus devoted his all that the Old and New World might converse by cable. Living side by side in Gramercy Park, David Dudley Field and Cyrus counselled together, and to the unfaltering courage of the elder brother the Atlantic telegraph is greatly indebted, says Dr. Henry M. Field in his romantic chapters on Cyrus Field's twelve years' struggle to bridge the mountains beneath the Atlantic. The first through message was sent by England's Queen to President Buchanan, accomplishing one of those costly first strides in modern history by which the United States entered the charmed circle of world-powers. A star has been added to the family escutcheon by Stephen D. Field, Esq. (a nephew of Cyrus West Field), in whose electrical workshop in Stockbridge wireless telegraphy first wrote her message for us in Morse characters on paper ribbon [1905).

In the little red schoolhouse, judge Stephen J. Field wrestled with the three "R's", and Dr. Field preached at early candle-lighting in spite " of driving snows. (The schoolhouse stands on the estate of Mrs. Bernard Hoffman, on the road to Interlaken.) This was the stage of The Smack at School, once as much quoted as Nothing to Wear. Wm. Pitt Palmer, the author, lived hard by on Prospect Hill, and this ambitious boy-with 31 cents in his pocket-walked to Albany that he might touch the hand of his hero Lafayette.

On the hill-slope at the picturesque Perry homestead one discovers another charming view of Stockbridge vale: from the windows-facing west Susan Teall Perry writes:

"I can see the pleasant valley
See the mountain's woody crest."

Mrs. Perry recalls many a piquant quart d'heure when her mother entertained Charlotte Cushman on the stoop with caraway cookies and a glass of milk, as she lingered for a chat on her way into Stockbridge from Curtisville, where she was staying on the Beckwith place.

And Fanny Kemble would often dash by before breakfast on her big black horse, or jog along on a charcoal cart, enjoying a lively spar with the smudgy and witty Irish driver. The country was quite shocked at her independent ways and dress, but they soon came to admire her and she was dubbed simply as "very peculiar. " Not a whit cared she; Fanny Kemble dressed, as she said, "for the occasion," whether in bloomers to " go a-fishing " or in splendid attire for one of her unrivalled scenes in Macbeth's castle. She adored the "Happy Valley," and when far away refers again and again to the "dear hill-country."

She writes to Mrs. Jameson when visiting at the Sedgwick homesteads in 1837: "I think the scenery and people you are now amongst fit to renovate a sick body and soothe a sore mind. Catherine Sedgwick is my best friend in this country, but the whole family here bestowed more kindness upon me than I now can sufficiently acknowledge. The place of their dwelling combines for me the charms of a great natural beauty with the associations that belong to the intellect and affections." [4]

Longfellow was told on a drive to Stockbridge that the very grasshoppers of the valley chirped " Sedgwick,Sedgwick".