Morning is not the hour for contemplation; but when evening comes, as the sun sinks towards the west, and lengthening shadows make it seem as if all nature were stretching herself in repose, then do we love to rest and contemplate the rich loveliness of the earth and the infinite tenderness of the heavens.  Every harsh line, every glare of light, every crude tone has disappeared.  We stroke nature and she purrs.  We sink at our ease in a bed of moss and nature nestles at our side; we linger beside the silvery brook and it sings to us; we listen attentively to the murmuring trees and they whisper to us; we gaze upon the frowning hills and they smile upon us.  And by and by as the shadows deepen all outlines are lost, and we see vaguely the great masses of tone and color; nature becomes heroic; the petty is dissolved; the insignificant is lost; hills and trees and streams are blended in one mighty composition, in the presence of which all but the impalpable soul of man is as nothing.

We left Schenectady at nine o’clock, taking the Troy road as far as Latham’s Corners, then to the right into Albany.

We reached the city at half-past ten.  Albany is not a convenient place for automobiles.  There are no special stations for the storing of machines, and the stables are most inaccessible on account of the hills and steep approaches.

CHAPTER ELEVEN THE VALLEY OF LEBANON THE SICK TURKEY

It was four o’clock, next day, when we left Albany, going down Green Street and crossing the long bridge, taking the straight road over the ridges for Pittsfield.

Immediately on leaving the eastern end of the bridge the ascent of a long steep grade is begun.  This is the first ridge, and from this on for fifteen miles is a succession of ridges, steep rocky hills, and precipitous declines.  These continue until Brainerd is reached, where the valley of Lebanon begins.

These ridges can be partially avoided by turning down the Hudson to the right after crossing the bridge and making a detour to Brainerd; the road is about five miles longer, but is very commonly taken by farmers going to the city with heavy loads, and may well be taken by all who wish to avoid a series of stiff grades.

Many farmers were amazed to hear we had come over the hills instead of going around, and wondered how the machine managed to do it.

Popular notions concerning the capabilities of a machine are interesting; people estimate its strength and resources by those of a horse.  In speaking of roads, farmers seem to assume the machine—­like the horse—­will not mind one or two hills, no matter how steep, but that it will mind a series of grades, even though none are very stiff.