Yes, I’m, getting a bit carried away with the 1889 Kings’s Handbook of Newton.  If the Chamber of Commerce is looking for a writer, Mr King’s your man.

Is this your village?

This village of Newton, covering perhaps four square miles, is by nature the fairest of all her districts, and the most abundant in the varied charms of hill and glen, upland and meadow, long and placid river-reaches, and high arched forests.  It’s comparative remoteness  has retarded the inflowing of population.  The inhabitants are mainly devoted to agriculture, as in the old days of the Stuart dynasty.

The infrequent roads that wind picturesquely over and around the hills lead by low and broad-based old farmhouses, with their clusters of weather-stained barns, overarched by tree of venerable age and majestic size.

Here are gnarled and bent orchards, looking as ancient as the olive trees around Jerusalem; broad fields smiling with abundant crops; and grassy pasture-lands, slanting towards the sun, and bounded by picturesque walls of field-stone.  It is a land of brooding peace, in which it always seems afternoon; and the roar of the great metropolis of New England, within a long cannon-shot, is as unheard and unrealized as if it were as far away as Bombay or Buenos Ayres.  And for two hundred and fifty years past, nothing but the Gospel of Peace has been known here, and generation after generation of industrious yeoman has tilled the fields without alarm.





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