THE BAY PATH from Connecticut to Springfield, Mass. The Bay Path led southwesterly, through now Framingham, Hopkinton and Grafton, to Woodstock, across the Connecticut line. There they used the Woodstock trail, striking through the forest to the northwest. It was the middle of May, 1636, when they reached their destination after eighteen days of travel. There they sheltered in the big log hut which had been built to receive them on the “house meadow”, near the mouth of the Agawam, just below the present city of Springfield. It was wonderful what a powerful interest was attached to the Bay-Path. It was the channel through which laws were communication, through which flowed news from distant friends, and through which came long, loving letters and messages....it was also associated with fears, and the imagination often clothed it with terrors of which experience and observation had furnished only sparsely scattered hints. The boy, as he heard the stories of the Path, went slowly to bed, and dreamed of lithe wildcats, squatted stealthily on over-hanging limbs, or the long leap through the air upon the doomed horseman, and the terrible death in the woods. Or, in the midnight camp, he heard through the low forest arches – crushed down by the weight of the darkness – the long-drawn howl of the hungry wolf. Or, sleeping in his tent or by his fire, he was awakened by the crackling sticks, and, lying breathless, heard a lonely bear, as he snuffed and grunted about his ears. Or, riding along blithely, and thinking of no danger, a band of straying Pequots arose, with swift arrows, to avenge the massacre of their kindred. The Bay Path was charmed ground ... and during the spring, the summer, and the early autumn, hardly a settler at Agawam went out of doors, or changed his position in the fields, or looked up from his labor, or rested on his oars upon the bosom of the river, without turning his eyes to the point at which that Path opened form the brow of the wood hill upon the east, where now the bells of the huge arsenal tells hourly of the coming of a stranger along the path of time. And when some worn and weary man came in sight, upon his half-starved horse, or two or three pedestrians, bending beneath their packs, and swinging their sturdy staves, were seen approaching, the village was astir from one end to the other. It was upon one of the sweetest mornings of May that Mary Pynchon and her brother John* walked forth to enjoy the air, and refresh themselves with the beauty of the spring-touched scenery. Tom, the pet, was their companion, and as Mary heard the stroke of axes in the woods upon the hill, she deemed it safe to walk in that direction. Her steps naturally sought the Bay-Path. Not, perhaps because it led to the most charming view, or was the easiest of access. She could not tell why she chose it. Her feet, almost by force, took the path which her thoughts had traveled so long, and led her toward hopes that might, for aught she knew, be on the wings of realization to meet her, and lead her back to her home crowned with peace and garlanded with gladness. Arriving at the summit of the hill Mary and her brother selected a favorable spot, and sat down. Far to the north, Mount Holyoke and Mt. Tom stood with slightly lifted brows, waiting for their names. Before them on the west, the Connecticut, like a silver scarf, floated upon the bosom of the valley. Beyond it, the dark green hills climbed slowly and by soft gradations heavenward, until the sky joined their upturned lips in a kiss from which it has forgotten to awake. And all was green-fresh with new life, and bright with the dawn of the year's golden season. There, too, were the dwellings of the settlers, some of them surrounded by palisades, for protection against a possible foe, and all of them humble and homely. Near where they were sitting still swung the axes of the woodmen, and off, upon the meadow, on the western side of the river, the planters were cultivating their corn. The scene was one of loneliness, but it was one of deep beauty and perfect peace. * The children of Major John Pynchon. Excerpted from The Bay Path and Along the Way, Chapter 3 of the online book by Levi B. Chase (Norwood, Mass.: The Plimpton Press, 1919). Reproduced online at Massachusetts: American Local History Network, a USGenNet website, Kathy Leigh, Webmistress. Click your Back button to return to the page you just left to get here.