CHAPTER VI. 



DIXVILLE NOTCH AND OLD ORCHARD. 



A Colorado friend recently sent us a paper with an 

 interesting account of "Two Women in a Buggy — How 

 two Denver ladies drove five hundred miles through the 

 Rockies." Now, "Two Ladies in a Phaeton," and "How 

 they drove six hundred miles through, beyond and around 

 the White Mountains," would be laid aside as hardly 

 worth reading, compared with the adventures of two 

 women driving through the "Rockies;" but, for actual 

 experience, we think almost everybody would prefer ours. 

 We all like ease, comfort and smooth ways, and yet disas- 

 ters and discomfort have a wonderful charm somehow in 

 print. Our two weeks' drive in Connecticut last year 

 seemed small to us, but we have been asked many times 

 if it was not the best journey we ever had, and as many 

 times we have discovered that the opinion was based on 

 the hard time we had crossing the Connecticut by ferry, 

 the one unpleasant incident of the whole trip. Now if 

 we could tell you of hair-breadth escapes passing "sixers 

 and eighters" on the edge of precipices, and about sleep- 

 ing in a garret reached by a ladder, shared by a boy in a 

 cot at that ; or better yet, how one day, when we were 

 driving along on level ground chatting pleasantly, we 

 suddenly found ourselves in a "prayerful attitude" and 

 the horse disappearing with the forward wheels, the 

 humiliating result being that the buggy had to be taken 

 to pieces, and packed into a Norwegian's wagon and we 



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