[p. 68] All about in the hills the ledges crop out, and on these are great boulders, left by the retreating glacier, ages ago. Grim and dark, they stand like sentinels on guard; some broken by frost, moss-grown and hoary-headed, they were old when the first settlers came. Just here the rambler's vision of the ancient time and the early dwellers, that was accompanied by the music of the rippling brook, was interrupted by the calls and appearance of the moth brigade, and the sawing, scraping and creosote daubing reminded him of the presence of the modern pests and the alarming proportions they assume. Farther up, the brook is crossed by the road leading from Forest street to Ram's Head hill. Here is a rustic bridge, and for some distance the declivity is but slight, and the stream broadens and lingers in the shady groves. Again a cart-path into the woods crosses it, and here is a ruined bridge, the stone abutments still good, however. A little further a diminutive grove of white birches gleams in the sunlight and overshadows the stream, and just beyond looms up the lofty dam of the Winchester South reservoir. This forms a barrier across the valley and cuts off further search for the source of Meeting-house brook, once called Marrabel's or Marble. Its original source was over half a mile farther on in Turkey swamp, but the rambler found no swamp or turkeys there, as the reservoir occupies its place. With the exception of the woodsmen, he met no one to converse with during his tramp, but found constant pleasure in the sylvan solitude by exploring the shady nooks and peering into the sparkling waters of the stream, catching a glimpse ever and anon of its shy denizens, as they darted quickly under sheltering rocks. The shadows of the trees were long, even at noon, and the handy camera secured him some views as souvenirs of a pleasant ramble on an equally pleasant midwinter day.Meeting-house is but one of the direct tributaries of the Mystic, and the views facing page 64 were secured seventeen years prior to those of the rambler, whose visit was twelve years ago. It was a source of satisfaction to him that others found enjoyment over the same route, and that the rambler's story we now present gave pleasure to that old Medford boy, whose latest thoughts reverted to his boyhood home. To members of the Mystic Camera Club we are indebted for the preservation of many interesting views in Medford, among which are our present illustrations.
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