though an interesting article might well (and should be) written thereon by some one conversant with the facts.
The industry has long ceased, and the ‘Quarry road,’ over which the massive blocks and thousands of loads of red gravel were hauled is now only traversed by solitary horsemen or the carriages of pleasure seekers, or by lovers of nature rambling along its shady and quiet woodland way. Nature has for years been kindly healing the gashes and wounds made by the quarrymen, and the scars that remain are gradually disappearing as the seasons come and go.
Thanks to the efforts of interested and public-spirited men a great natural park is assured to the people, and the old granite quarry lies at its gateway.
But a short distance from Forest street and the new boulevard is a rare combination of the natural and the artificial, or rather accidental, an object of interest and one rarely seen, the ‘Old Man of the Fells.’
We deem the Old Man worthy of an introduction to our readers and to the public, and show him in his calm and graceful pose in our frontispiece.
So far as we know he has never been introduced to the people in print by any one, other than the present writer,1
who did so three years ago in the columns of the Medford Mercury
and Boston Globe
. To the former the Register is under obligation for its illustrations.
Shortly after such introduction the old man was visited by numerous people, to whom his existence was a revelation.
Some took the woodland walk and returned no wiser, having failed to discover him, though passing within a rod of his stony face.
Of course the reader will understand that, like every thing else of the kind, all depends on the point of view.
As one leaves Forest street and enters the Fells, Quarry road takes him over Gravelly brook
A few rods ahead to the right the rock ledge crops out, the eastern end of the old granite quarry.