About two miles of road, mostly along the river bank brings us to East Weatogue, a pretty, restful hamlet. The morning sun is late in driving away the mountain shadows, but the wide westward vista lengthens out the day with glowing sunsets. Here the Hartford road winds over the mountain. From the summit of the last steep descent, the song of turbulent waters will fall upon the ear. Built in 1717, though somewhat bowed with age, its massive timbers yield but slowly to the ravages of time.
Tradition tells of wild scenes here in the old days of warfare.
On the opposite side of the river lies the sister village, West Weatogue, in former days the business center of the place. With growth of business in another part of the town, the star of her prosperity set, but only to rise again with increased splendor. Jeremiads from her ruins. Old farm houses burst from the chrysalis into towered mansions. Separated from Weatogue by the loveliest of drives through the fragrant pines is Bushy Hill.