Notices of Mount Washington and the vicinity. 75 
another, and answering for rude stairs. Nearly half our journey 
from the foot of the mountain was through a pine forest, and the . 
rest over rocks and barrens. ‘The whole distance ascended on’ 
foot is three miles. About half way up, I discerned a small shrub 
adhering to the rocks in the manner of a vine, and named by our 
guide the dwarf spruce. 'This was the last appearance of vege- 
tation. ‘The summit, for the distance of half a mile on all sides, 
is composed of immense rocks, promiscuously heaped together, 
while the view which it affords, is beyond what. the most vivid 
imagination can conceive. In this elevated region, soft, silky 
clouds were seen floating around and beneath. And no object 
could be more splendidly gorgeous, than one of these clouds when 
illumined by the sun. The barrenness of an unbroken winter, 
whose bleak winds are whistling around, rests on all scene. 
Towards the west, north, and south, it might be said of the 
“ Like Alps on Alps they rise,” 
until, on the east, their summits mingle with the heavens. An 
immense valley stretches out before you, in which the Saco may 
be distinctly seen pursuing its way to the ocean. The furrows 
and ruins of a number of avalanches too, are visible in the sides 
of the mountains. These possess a melancholy interest from the 
fact, that one of them, about eleven years since, borne onward 
from the mountain top by a sudden deluge,* swept away an en- 
tire family, (nine in number,) into the Saco, where their bodies 
were found among the earth, and stones, and trees, the ruins 
transported by the flood. On the following day, after my re- ° 
turn from the mountain, I stopped to view the scene of this most 
tragical occurrence. It lies on the public road to Portland, in 
a stupendous defile between the mountains, commonly called 
the ‘Notch.’ The two mountain ridges here approach very near, 
and there is only room for the small river Saco and a road, with 
a few patches of cultivated ground. The house in which this 
unfortunate family resided remains, and is now as it was then, an 
inn. Those, who at that time administered to the necessities of 
the traveller, are now no more! It is said that they ran out of the 
house during the night, supposing that the avalanche was coming 
* So , that streaks of light, filling the 
air wih a an x elotia odor, flashed along their paths, scatuae the palpable darkness of that 
dreadfu —Eb. 
