14000 MILES 



long, hot drive, we reached Franconia, where we struck 

 the route of our last year's journey, which we must now 

 follow all the way, even spending the nights at the same 

 places. We took a good view of the mountains at Fran- 

 conia, recalling the names of the different peaks, and very 

 fortunately, for in the morning there was not one to be 

 seen. The sun looked like a huge ball of fire, and the 

 atmosphere was very smoky. We drove on, trying to 

 realize we were surrounded by grand mountains; but 

 not until we were close to them in the Notch could we 

 discern the faintest outline, and the "Old Man" looked as 

 if dissolving in the clouds. It seemed dreamy and 

 mysterious until we got to the Basin, Pool and Flume, 

 which were not affected by the atmosphere. 



Our night at Campton passed pleasantly, but we 

 started in the rain next day for Weirs, Lake Winnipi- 

 seogee, where we proposed to rest our horse for a day 

 or two. From Plymouth to Weirs is a crooked way, and 

 the pouring rain so changed the aspect of everything, 

 that we felt every turn was a wrong one. It was chilly 

 and disagreeable, but we put on all our wraps, the water- 

 proof hoods over our heads, and brought the "boot" close 

 up to our chins, then kept warm with ginger cookies. 

 From the manner of the people of whom we made 

 inquiries as we passed, we suspected our appearance was 

 ludicrous. After many twistings and turnings we arrived 

 at Hotel Weirs. We had never been there except when 

 ministers and meetings abounded, but the place was now 

 deserted, and we read "Endymion" instead of being 

 preached to four times a day. 



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