STEBBINS] THREE DAYS IN THE MOUNTAINS 203 



the side of Adams. We were in a dififerent world all that day. 

 Now our attention was caught b}^ wave after wave of blue moun- 

 tains. Now cloud and shadows, again, we stood at the edge of 

 some ravine ,and listened to the wind sweeping through the trees 

 hundreds of feet below us, and heard the sighing rush of some river 

 winding its way across the floor of the ravine. After a day filled 

 with joyous exertion we were at last climbing Mt. Washington, 

 our goal, the Stimmit House, in full view. That ecstatic feeling 

 familiar to all mountain lovers at the end of a long, hard day, 

 shone in each face as we heartily ate our suppers. We were not 

 favored with a sunrise from Mt. Washington, but the trip was 

 crowned with a descent thro Tuckermari's Ravine. The previous 

 day had been one of widest views and far horizons, the last day 

 gave us an intim.ate acquaintance with a mountain ravine. It is 

 one thing to stand and look down a ravine, and another thing 

 hour after hour to slowly make one's way down its precipitous 

 sides, now and then pausing to look up at its menacing walls. 

 Thousands of little streams flowed over the rocks, sometimes on 

 our very path, bright splotches of mountain flowers were found on 

 some high rocky ledge. When we reached the bottom of the head 

 wall we found the snow arch. We had great fun, making snow 

 balls, but were careful not to get too near the arch. At Hermit 

 Lake Camp we stopped to eat our luncheon at half past two. 

 It was good to hear the fire crackling in the fire place as we broiled 

 our bacon. After a short rest we continued the descent, through 

 the forest now. The five small brooks we had seen on the wall 

 of the Ravine, were now a m.agnificent stream, and we stayed a 

 long time at the Crystal Cascade. By six o'clock we were down 

 and had rejoined the girls who had left us in the morning to go 

 down by the carriage road. Our ride home in the evening was 

 deUghtful, we enjoyed our supper at the Pine Tree Tea Room in 

 North Conway, and arrived at Camp about ten o'clock. 



In a little newspaper "Above the Clouds," I once found this 

 poem. If you read it carefully I think you will find that it reflects 

 much of your own feeling : 



"The mountains lift their lofty heights above the land, 

 Silent, mysterious, beautiful, complete they stand, 

 Clothed in new splendours as the passing hours unfold, 

 Of morning's purple shadows and the sunset's gold. 

 Gazing I pause and wander on my lonely way. 

 Till from those lofty peaks a still voice seems to say, 

 Cast off thy bonds of self that hold thee to thy sod, 

 Come to the mountain heights if thou wouldst know thy God." 



