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Tourist's Edition

THE HEART OF THE WHITE MOUNTAINS

THEIR LEGEND AND SCENERY

BY

SAMUEL ADAMS DRAKE

AUTHOR OF "NOOKS AND CORNERS OF THE NEW ENGLAND COAST" "CAPTAIN NELSON" ETC.

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY

W. HAMILTON GIBSON

"_Eyes loose: thoughts close_"

NEW YORK HARPER & BROTHERS. FRANKLIN SQUARE 1882

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1881, by

HARPER & BROTHERS,

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.

_All rights reserved._

To JOHN G. WHITTIER:

_An illustrious and venerated bard, who shares with you the love and honor of his countrymen, tells us that the poets are the best travelling companions. Like Orlando in the forest of Arden, they "hang odes on hawthorns and elegies on thistles."

In the spirit of that delightful companionship, so graciously announced, it is to you, who have kindled on our aged summits

"The light that never was on sea or land, The consecration and the poet's dream."

that this volume is affectionately dedicated by_

THE AUTHOR.

PREFACE.

The very flattering reception which the sumptuous holiday edition of "The Heart of the White Mountains" received on its _début_ has decided the Messrs. Harper to re-issue it in a more convenient and less expensive form, with the addition of a Tourist's Appendix, and an Index farther adapting it for the use of actual travellers. While all the original features remain intact, these additions serve to render the references in the text intelligible to the uninstructed reader, and at the same time help to make a practical working manual. One or two new maps contribute to the same end.

I take the opportunity thus afforded me to say that, when "The Heart of the White Mountains" was originally prepared, I hoped it might go into the hands of those who, making the journey for the first time, feel the need of something different from the conventional guide-book of the day, and for whom it would also be, during the hours of travel or of leisure among the mountains, to some extent an entertaining as well as a useful companion. So far as author and publisher are concerned, that purpose is now realized.

Finally, I wrote the book because I could not help it.

SAMUEL ADAMS DRAKE.

MELROSE, _January, 1882_.

GENERAL CONTENTS.

FIRST JOURNEY.

PAGE

I. _MY TRAVELLING COMPANIONS_.....1

II. _INCOMPARABLE WINNIPISEOGEE_: Voyage from Wolfborough to Centre Harbor.--The Indians.--Centre Harbor.--Legendary.--Ascent of Red Hill.--Sunset on the Lake.....8

III. _CHOCORUA_: Stage Journey to Tamworth.--Scramble for Places.--Valley of the Bear Camp.--Legend of Chocorua.--Sandwich Mountains.--Chocorua Lake.--Ascent of Mount Chocorua.....18

IV. _LOVEWELL_: Fryeburg.--Lovewell's Fight.--Desperate Encounter with the Pigwackets.--Death of Paugus.....33

V. _NORTH CONWAY_: The Antechamber of the Mountains.--White Horse Ledge.--Fording the Saco.--Indian Custom.--Echo Lake.--The Cathedral.--Diana's Baths.--Artists' Falls.--The Moats.--Winter Ascent of Mount Kearsarge.....39

VI. _FROM KEARSARGE TO CARRIGAIN_: Conway Intervales.--Bartlett Bowlder.--Singular Homicide.--Bartlett.--A Lost Village.--Ascent of Mount Carrigain.--A Shaggy Wilderness.....55

VII. _VALLEY OF THE SACO_: Autumnal Foliage.--The Story of Nancy.--Doctor Bemis.--Abel Crawford, the Veteran Guide.--Ethan A. Crawford.--The Mount Crawford Glen.--Giant's Stairs.--Frankenstein Cliff.--Superb View of Mount Washington.--Mount Willey.....66

VIII. _THROUGH THE NOTCH_: Great Notch of the White Mountains.--The Willey House, and Slide of 1826.--"Colonizing" Voters.--Mount Willard.--Mount Webster, and its Cascades.--Gate of the Notch.--Summit of the Pass.....76

IX. _CRAWFORD'S_: The Elephant's Head.--Crawford House, and Glen.--Discovery of The Notch.--Ascent of Mount Willard.--Magnificent _coup d'oeil_.....87

X. _THE ASCENT FROM CRAWFORD'S_: The Bridle-path.--Wreck of the Forest.--A Forest of Ice.--Dwarf Trees.--Summit of Mount Clinton.--Caught in a Snow-storm.--The Colonel's Hat.--Oakes's Gulf.--The Plateau.--Climbing the Dome.--The Summit at Last.....95

SECOND JOURNEY.

I. _LEGENDS OF THE CRYSTAL HILLS_: Indian Tradition and Legend.--Ascent of Mount Washington by Darby Field.--Indian Name of the White Mountains .....113

II. _JACKSON AND THE ELLIS VALLEY_: Thorn Hill.--Jackson.--Jackson Falls.--Goodrich Falls.--The Ellis.--A Captive Maiden's Song.--Pretty Indian Legend.--Pinkham Notch, from the Ellis.--A Mountain Homestead.--Artist Life.....122

III. _THE CARTER NOTCH_: Valley of the Wildcat.--The Guide.--The Way In.--Summit of The Notch.--Awful Desolation.--The Giant's Barricade.--Carter Dome.--The Way Out.....132

IV. _THE PINKHAM NOTCH_: The Glen House.--Thompson's Falls.--Emerald Pool.--Crystal Cascade.--Glen Ellis and its Legend.....144

V. _A SCRAMBLE IN TUCKERMAN'S_: Tuckerman's Ravine.--The Path.--Hermit Lake.--"No Thoroughfare."--Interior of the Ravine.--The Snow Arch.....155

VI. _IN AND ABOUT GORHAM_: The Peabody Valley.--Copp's Farm.--The Imp.--Nathaniel Copp's Adventure.--Gorham and the Androscoggin.--Mount Hayes.--Mount Madison.--Wholesale Destruction of the Forests.--Logging in the Mountains.--Berlin Falls.--Shelburne and Bethel.....165

VII. _ASCENT BY THE CARRIAGE-ROAD_: Bruin and the Travellers.--The Ledge.--The Great Gulf.--Fatal Accident.--Lost Travellers.--Arrival at the Signal-station.--A Night on the Summit.....178

VIII. _MOUNT WASHINGTON_: View from the Summit.--The Great Gale.--Life on the Summit.--Shadow of Mount Washington.--Bigelow's Lawn.--The Hunter Monument.--Lake of the Clouds.--The Mountain Butterfly.....189

THIRD JOURNEY.

I. _THE PEMIGEWASSET IN JUNE_: Plymouth.--Death of Hawthorne.--John Stark, the Hunter.--Livermore Fall.--Trout and Salmon Breeding.--Franconia Mountains from West Campton.--Settlement of Campton.--Valley of Mad River.--Tripyramid Mountain.--Waterville and its Surroundings.....209

II. _THE FRANCONIA PASS_: The Flume House.--The Pool.--The Flume.--Ascent of Mount Pemigewasset.--The Basin.--Mount Cannon.--Profile Lake.--Old Man of the Mountain.--Summit of the Pass.....224

III. _THE KING OF FRANCONIA_: Profile House and Glen.--Eagle Cliff.--Echo Lake.--Ascent of Mount Lafayette.--The Lakes.--Singular Atmospheric Effects.....237

IV. _FRANCONIA, AND THE NEIGHBORHOOD_: The Roadside Spring.--Franconia Iron Works and Vicinity.--Sugar Hill.....248

V. _THE CONNECTICUT OX-BOW_: Newbury and Haverhill.....256

VI. _THE SACK OF ST. FRANCIS DE SALES_: Robert Rogers, the Ranger.--Destruction of the Abenaqui Village.--Retreat and Pursuit of the Rangers.--Legend of the Silver Image.....259

VII. _MOOSEHILLOCK_: Ascent of the Mountain from Warren.--View from the Summit.....267

VIII. _BETHLEHEM_: Bethlehem Street.--Sudden Rise of a Mountain Resort.--The Environs.--Maplewood and the Great Range.--The Place of Sunsets.--The "Hermit."--The Soldier turned Peddler.....276

IX. _JEFFERSON, AND THE VALLEY OF ISRAEL'S RIVER_: Jefferson Hill.--Starr King and Cherry Mountains.--The Great Chain Again.--Thomas Starr King.--Ethan Crawford's.--Ravine of the Cascades.--Randolph Hill and King's Ravine.--The Cherry Mountain Road.--Fabyan's.--Captain Rosebrook .....291

X. _THE GREAT NORTHERN PEAKS_: The Mountain Railway.--An Evening Ascension.--Moonlight on the Summit.--Sunrise.--A March to Mount Adams.--The Great Gulf of the Five Mountains.--The Castellated Ridge.--Peak of Mount Adams.--Conclusion.....304

Illustrations.

These Illustrations, excepting those marked *, were designed by W. HAMILTON GIBSON.

SUBJECT. ENGRAVER. PAGE. TRAVELLERS IN A STORM, MOUNT WASHINGTON _R. Hoskin_ Frontispiece

WINNIPISEOGEE, FROM RED HILL _J. Tinkey_ 15

*"ALONE WITH ALL THOSE MEN!" _V. Bernstrom_ 20 _Designed by W. A. Rogers._

PASSACONNAWAY, FROM THE BEAR-CAMP RIVER _Smithwick and French_ 24

CHOCORUA _R. Hoskin_ 26

LOVEWELL'S POND _J. P. Davis_ 34

MOUNT WASHINGTON, FROM THE SACO _F. S. King_ 40

THE LEDGES, NORTH CONWAY _E. Held_ 41

ECHO LAKE, NORTH CONWAY _G. J. Buechner_ 45

KEARSARGE IN WINTER _R. Hoskin_ 48

*SLIDING DOWN KEARSARGE _H. Deis_ 53 _Designed by W. A. Rogers._

CONWAY MEADOWS _W. H. Morse_ 56

BARTLETT BOWLDER _E. Held_ 58

*NANCY IN THE SNOW _J. P. Davis_ 68 _Designed by Sol Eytinge._

*ABEL CRAWFORD (PORTRAIT) _Thos. Johnson_ 70

STORM ON MOUNT WILLEY _J. Linton_ 75

MOUNT WILLARD, FROM WILLEY BROOK _G. Smith_ 78

THE CASCADES, MOUNT WEBSTER _F. S. King_ 85

ELEPHANT'S HEAD, WINTER _H. Wolf_ 88

LOOKING DOWN THE NOTCH _C. Mayer_ 91

GIANT'S STAIRS, FROM THORN MOUNTAIN _J. Hellawell_ 124

MOAT MOUNTAIN, FROM JACKSON FALLS _F. Pettit_ 126

THE CARTER NOTCH _Smithwick and French_ 134

THE EMERALD POOL _W. H. Morse_ 147

THE CRYSTAL CASCADE _H. Wolf_ 149

THE PATH, TUCKERMAN'S RAVINE _R. Hoskin_ 157

HERMIT LAKE _W. J. Dana_ 160

SNOW ARCH, TUCKERMAN'S RAVINE _N. Orr_ 163

THE IMP _J. Tinkey_ 166

THE ANDROSCOGGIN AT SHELBURNE _G. Smith_ 176

MOUNT ADAMS AND THE GREAT GULF _W. H. Morse_ 182

WINTER STORM ON THE SUMMIT _R. Schelling_ 187

*THE TORNADO FORCING AN ENTRANCE _J. Tinkey_ 194 _Designed by Thure de Thulstrup_

LAKE OF THE CLOUDS _J. P. Davis_ 200

ON THE PROFILE ROAD _Smithwick and French_ 213

WELCH MOUNTAIN, FROM MAD RIVER _J. Hellawell_ 217

BLACK AND TRIPYRAMID MOUNTAINS _J. S. Harley_ 220

FRANCONIA NOTCH, FROM THORNTON _F. S. King_ 222

A GLIMPSE OF THE POOL _C. Mayer_ 225

THE FLUME, FRANCONIA NOTCH _J. P. Davis_ 227

THE BASIN _G. J. Buechner_ 230

*THE OLD MAN OF THE MOUNTAIN _A. Measom_ 234 _Designed by Granville Perkins._

*EAGLE CLIFF AND THE ECHO HOUSE _P. Annin_ 238 _Designed by Granville Perkins._

ECHO LAKE, FRANCONIA _G. J. Buechner_ 240

MOUNT CANNON, FROM THE BRIDLE-PATH, LAFAYETTE _R. Schelling_ 242

CLOUD EFFECTS ON MOUNT LAFAYETTE _R. Hoskin_ 245

*FRANCONIA IRON WORKS AND NOTCH _C. Mayer_ 248 _Designed by Granville Perkins._

*THE ROADSIDE SPRING 250 _Designed by W. A . Rogers._

*ROBERT ROGERS (PORTRAIT) _C. Mayer_ 260

*THE BUCK-BOARD WAGON 274 _Designed by W. A. Rogers._

MOUNT LAFAYETTE, FROM BETHLEHEM _J. Tinkey_ 280

THE NORTHERN PEAKS, FROM JEFFERSON _Smithwick and French_ 292

MOUNT WASHINGTON, FROM FABYAN'S _E. Held_ 301

*MOUNTAIN RAILWAY-STATION IN STAGING TIMES _T. Johnson_ 305 _Designed by Granville Perkins._

ASCENT BY THE RAILWAY _J. Hellawell_ 309

THE CASTELLATED RIDGE, MOUNT JEFFERSON _J. Tinkey_ 315

MAP OF THE WHITE MOUNTAINS (_East Side_) xv

" " " (_Central and Northern Section_) 111

" " " (_West Side_) 207

FIRST JOURNEY.

PAGE

I. _MY TRAVELLING COMPANIONS_ 1

II. _INCOMPARABLE WINNIPISEOGEE_ 8

III. _CHOCORUA_ 18

IV. _LOVEWELL_ 33

V. _NORTH CONWAY_ 39

VI. _KEARSARGE TO CARRIGAIN_ 55

VII. _VALLEY OF THE SACO_ 66

VIII. _THROUGH THE NOTCH_ 76

IX. _CRAWFORD'S_ 87

X. _ASCENT FROM CRAWFORD'S_ 95

THE

HEART OF THE WHITE MOUNTAINS.

FIRST JOURNEY.

I.

_MY TRAVELLING COMPANIONS._

"Si jeunesse savait! si viellesse pouvait!"

One morning in September I was sauntering up and down the railway-station waiting for the slow hands of the clock to reach the hour fixed for the departure of the train. The fact that these hands never move backward did not in the least seem to restrain the impatience of the travellers thronging into the station, some with happy, some with anxious faces, some without trace of either emotion, yet all betraying the same eagerness and haste of manner. All at once I heard my name pronounced, and felt a heavy hand upon my shoulder.

"What!" I exclaimed, in genuine surprise, "is it you, colonel?"

"Myself," affirmed the speaker, offering his cigar-case.

"And where did you drop from"--accepting an Havana; "the Blue Grass?"

"I reckon."

"But what are you doing in New England, when you should be in Kentucky?"

"Doing, I? oh, well," said my friend, with a shade of constraint; then with a quizzical smile, "You are a Yankee; guess."

"Take care."

"Guess."

"Running away from your creditors?"

The colonel's chin cut the air contemptuously.

"Running after a woman, perhaps?"

My companion quickly took the cigar from his lips, looked at me with mouth half opened, then stammered, "What in blue brimstone put that into your head?"

"Evidently you are going on a journey, but are dressed for an evening party," I replied, comprising with a glance the colonel's black suit, lavender gloves, and white cravat.

"Why," said the colonel, glancing rather complacently at himself--"why we Kentuckians always travel so at home. But it's now your turn; where are you going yourself?"

"To the mountains."

"Good; so am I: White Mountains, Green Mountains, Rocky Mountains, or Mountains of the Moon, I care not."

"What is your route?"

"I'm not at all familiar with the topography of your mountains. What is yours?"

"By the Eastern to Lake Winnipiseogee, thence to Centre Harbor, thence by stage and rail to North Conway and the White Mountain Notch."

My friend purchased his ticket by the indicated route, and the train was soon rumbling over the bridges which span the Charles and Mystic. Farewell, Boston, city where, like thy railways, all extremes meet, but where I would still rather live on a crust moistened with east wind than cast my lot elsewhere.

When we had fairly emerged into the light and sunshine of the open country, I recognized my old acquaintance George Brentwood. At a gesture from me he came and sat opposite to us.

George Brentwood was a blond young man of thirty-four or thirty-five, with brown hair, full reddish beard, shrewdish blue eyes, a robust frame, and a general air of negligent repose. In a word, he was the antipodes of my companion, whose hair, eyebrows, and mustache were coal-black, eyes dark and sparkling, manner nervous, and his attitudes careless and unconstrained, though not destitute of a certain natural grace. Both were men to be remarked in a crowd.

"George," said I, "permit me to introduce my friend Colonel Swords."

After a few civil questions and answers, George declared his destination to be ours, and was cordially welcomed to join us. By way of breaking the ice, he observed,

"Apropos of your title, colonel, I presume you served in the Rebellion?"

The colonel hitched a little on his seat before replying. Knowing him to be a very modest man, I came to his assistance. "Yes," said I, "the colonel fought hard and bled freely. Let me see, where were you wounded?"

"Through the chest."

"No, I mean in what battle?"

"Spottsylvania."

"Left on the field for dead, and taken prisoner," I finished.

George is a fellow of very generous impulses. "My dear sir," said he, effusively, grasping the colonel's hand, "after what you have suffered for the old flag, you can need no other passport to the gratitude and friendship of a New-Englander. Count me as one of your debtors. During the war it was my fortune--my misfortune, I should say--to be in a distant country; otherwise we should have been found fighting shoulder to shoulder under Grant, or Sherman, or Sheridan, or Thomas.

The colonel's color rose. He drew himself proudly up, cleared his throat, and said, laconically, "Hardly, stranger, seeing that I had the honor to fight under the Confederate flag."

You have seen a tortoise suddenly draw back into his shell. Well, George as suddenly retreated into his. For an instant he looked at the Southron as one might at a confessed murderer; then stammered out a few random and unmeaning words about mistaken sense of duty--gallant but useless struggle, you know--drew a newspaper from his pocket, and hid his confusion behind it.

Fearing my fiery Kentuckian might let fall some unlucky word that would act like a live coal dropped on the tortoise's back, I hastened to interpose. "But really, colonel," I urged, returning to the charge, "with the Blue Ridge always at your back, I wager you did not come a thousand miles merely to see our mountains. Come, what takes you from Lexington?"

"A truant disposition."

"Nothing else?"

His dark face grew swarthy, then pale. He looked at me doubtfully a moment, and then leaned close to my ear. "You guessed it," he whispered.

"A woman?"

"Yes; you know that I was taken prisoner and sent North. Through the influence of a friend who had known my family before the war, I was allowed to pass my first days of convalescence in a beautiful little village in Berkshire. There I was cured of the bullet, but received a more mortal wound."

"What a misfortune!"

"Yes; no; confound you, let me finish."

"Helen, the daughter of the gentleman who procured my transfer from the hospital to his pleasant home" (the proud Southerner would not say his benefactor), "was a beautiful creature. Let me describe her to you."

"Oh," I hastened to say, "I know her." Like all lovers, that subject might have a beginning but no ending.

"You?"

"Of course. Listen. Yellow hair, rippling ravishingly from an alabaster forehead, pink cheeks, pouting lips, dimpled chin, snowy throat--"

The colonel made a gesture of impatience. "Pshaw, that's a type, not a portrait. Well, the upshot of it was that I was exchanged, and ordered to report at Baltimore for transportation to our lines. Imagine my dismay. No, you can't, for I was beginning to think she cared for me, and I was every day getting deeper and deeper in love. But to tell her! That posed me. When alone with her, my cowardly tongue clove to the roof of my mouth. Once or twice I came very near bawling out, 'I love you!' just as I would have given an order to a squadron to charge a battery."

"Well; but you did propose at last?"

"Oh yes."

"And was accepted."

The colonel lowered his head, and his face grew pinched.

"Refused gently, but positively refused."

"Come," I hazarded, thinking the story ended, "I do not like your Helen."

"Why?"

"Because either you are mistaken, or she seems just a little of a coquette."

"Oh, you don't know her," said the colonel, warmly; "when we parted she betrayed unusual agitation--for her; but I was cut to the quick by her refusal, and determined not to let her see how deeply I felt it. After the Deluge--you know what I mean--after the tragedy at Appomattox, I went back to the old home. Couldn't stay there. I tried New Orleans, Cuba. No use."

Something rose in the colonel's throat, but he gulped it down and went on:

"The image of that girl pursues me. Did you ever try running away from yourself? Well, after fighting it out with myself until I could endure it no longer, I put pride in my pocket, came straight to Berkshire, only to find Helen gone."

"That was unlucky; where?"

"To the mountains, of course. Everybody seems to be going there; but I shall find her."

"Don't be too sanguine. It will be like looking for a needle in a hay-stack. The mountains are a perfect Dædalian labyrinth," I could not help saying, in my vexation. Instead of an ardent lover of nature, I had picked up the "baby of a girl." But there was George Brentwood. I went over and sat by George.

It was generally understood that George was deeply enamored of a young and beautiful widow who had long ceased to count her love affairs, who all the world, except George, knew loved only herself, and who had therefore nothing left worth mentioning to bestow upon another. By nature a coquette, passionately fond of admiration, her self-love was flattered by the attentions of such a man as George, and he, poor fellow, driven one day to the verge of despair, the next intoxicated with the crumbs she threw him, was the victim of a species of slavery which was fast undermining his buoyant and generous disposition. The colonel was in hot pursuit of his adored Helen. Two words sufficed to acquaint me that George was escaping from his beautiful tormentor. At all events, I was sure of him.

"How charming the country is! What a delightful sense of freedom!" George drew a deep breath, and stretched his limbs luxuriously. "Shall we have an old-fashioned tramp together?" He continued, with assumed vivacity, "The deuce take me if I go back to town for a twelve-month. How we creep along! I feel exultation in putting the long miles between me and the accursed city," said George, at last.

"You experience no regret, then, at leaving the city?"

George merely looked at me; but he could not have spoken more eloquently.

The train had just left Portsmouth, when the conductor entered the car holding aloft a yellow envelope. Every eye was instantly riveted upon it. Conversation ceased. For whom of the fifty or sixty occupants of the car had this flash overtaken the express train? In that moment the criminal realized the futility of flight, the merchant the uncertainty of his investments, the man of leisure all the ordinary contingencies of life. The conductor put an end to the suspense by demanding,

"Is Mr. George Brentwood in this car?"

In spite of an heroic effort at self-control, George's hand trembled as he tore open the envelope; but as he read his face became radiant. Had he been alone I believe he would have kissed the paper.

"Your news is not bad?" I ventured to ask, seeing him relapse into a fit of musing, and noting the smile that came and went like a ripple on still water.

"Thank you, quite the contrary; but it is important that I should immediately return to Boston."

"How unfortunate!"

George turned on me a fixed and questioning look, but made no reply.

"And the mountains?" I persisted.

"Oh, sink the mountains!"

I last saw George striding impatiently up and down the platform of the Rochester station, watch in hand. Without doubt he had received his recall. However, there was still the lovelorn colonel.

Never have I seen a man more thoroughly enraptured with the growing beauty of the scenery. I promised myself much enjoyment in his society, for his comments were both original and picturesque; so that by the time we arrived at Wolfborough I had already forgotten George and his widow.