94 PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY. 



EXTRACTS FROM THE DIARY OF A. F. CLOUGH, KEPT UPON THE SUM- 

 MIT OF MOOSILAUKE IN 1870. 



January 27. Mounted my snow-shoes, took an axe and an old iron tea-kettle, and 

 started for Jobildunk ravine. Splendid view there, ice columns a hundred feet high. 

 What a time I had getting down to the foot ! First, I sent the axe down on a voyage 

 of discovery, and to bush out a path. How it leaped and slid and plunged, as it went 

 down to the woods a thousand feet below! Next went the snow-shoes ; but the kettle 

 would be smashed, and I kept it along with me. Then I slid a little way ; clinging by 

 the bushes and holding to a birch, got down a perpendicular descent some ten feet. 

 From this I could not get back at all, or down, except by jumping. Then I sent the 

 tea-kettle ahead. It went leaping and whirling twenty feet at a bound, smashed in 

 pieces, and was lost in the firs. I never saw it again. I looked over the precipice. 

 There was a shelf of the rock twenty feet below, and a snow-bank on it. It was the 

 only way. I jumped, and settled to my knees in it. The rest of the way was easier ; 

 and, sliding and jumping, I was at the foot in almost no time. It was a wild, grand 

 scene, ice precipices rising one above the other a thousand feet, till the tops are lost in 

 the clouds. Spotted my views ; and was two hours climbing home through the woods. 

 The ravine is one of the wildest places in New Hampshire, especially in winter. The 

 Asquamchumauke comes down through it. 



February 18. Storms. Well, I like a storm ; it arouses peculiar feelings, excitement, 

 when it goes in strong, and it does that to-day, sure. One incessant roar all day, driv- 

 ing sleet and rain. The house shakes and trembles, though one side is buried in a snow- 

 drift to the top of the roof, nearly, with five inches of snow and ice on the roof and 

 walls. 



10 A. M. Went out with the anemometer. We had a barrel set for the purpose ; but 

 the snow and ice had filled it up, so I held the machine for ten minutes. Sat down, 

 back to the wind, astride of the barrel. It was no boy's play. Machine won't weigh 

 five pounds, but it tired me terribly. The wind would ease a trifle, then come with a 

 rush and a roar louder than thunder, that made me cling, legs and arms, to the barrel. 

 The roar was deafening ; I could not hear. Huntington gave signal with his hand, 

 and I made for the house ; was thrown flat down by the wind, then crept in. How 

 queer I felt. I reeled and staggered like a drunken man. My head was giddy, my 

 eyes on fire, a thrill like electricity shot through my whole body, making me wild and 

 reckless. How it would have operated had I stopped longer, I cannot say. I should 

 be careless of my life to try it again. The wind is blowing a hundred miles an hour ; 

 the sleet cuts like a knife ; and my skin smarts wherever it was struck. 



Blows like great guns this afternoon. Rain comes down a perfect shower ; runs in 

 streams about our window. We have got pails, buckets, kettles, &c., to catch it, and 

 keep from being drowned out. This is worse than the storm of January 2 ; but we are 

 better prepared to meet it. 



