48 FOOTING IT IN FRANCONIA 



gently, and passes out of sight within the 

 shadow of a wood. And above the over- 

 arching trees rises the pyramidal mass of 

 Mount Cannon, its middle part set with dark 

 evergreens, which are flanked on either side 

 with broad patches of light yellow, poplars 

 or birches. The sun is getting down, and 

 its level rays flood the whole mountain forest 

 with light. 



Into the shadow I go, following the road, 

 and after a turn or two come out at a small 

 clearing and a house. " Rocky Farm," we 

 might name it ; for the land is sprinkled 

 over with huge boulders, as if giants had 

 been at play here. Whoever settled the 

 place first must have chosen the site for its 

 outlook rather than for any hope of its fer- 

 tility. I sit down on one of the stones and 

 take my fill of the mountain glory : Garfield, 

 Lafayette, Cannon, Kinsman, Moosilauke, 

 a grand horizonf ul. Cannon is almost within 

 reach of the hand, as it looks ; but the arm 

 might need to be two miles long. 



Just here the road makes a sudden bend, 

 passes again into light woods, and presently 

 emerges upon a little knoll overlooking the 



