14000 MILES 



close by White River, the Connecticut, Wells River, and 

 the Ammonoosuc, which roared like Niagara, as it rushed 

 wildly over the rocks under our window at the hotel in 

 Lisbon, New Hampshire. 



It rained heavily during the night, but the sun was out 

 bright in the morning. We surprised friends with a very 

 early call, and then went on, taking our river along with 

 us. At Littleton we found a generous mail, and all was 

 well, so still on we went, camping at noon by our Am- 

 monoosuc but parting with it at Wing Road, for it was 

 bound Bethlehem-ward, and we were going to White- 

 fiield, where we found a new proprietor at the hotel, who 

 at one time lived in Leominster. 



Jefferson was our next objective point, and there are 

 two ways to go. We wanted that lovely way marked 

 out for us once by a Mt. Washington summit friend, 

 who knew all the ways. We took a way that we wish to 

 forget. We called it the ridgepole road between the 

 White Mountains and the mountains farther north. 

 There were mountains on all sides, but some of them 

 were dimly discerned through the haze, which threatened 

 to hide them all. We went up until we were so high we 

 had to go down in order to go up more hills. The road 

 was full of mudholes, and swamps or burnt forests on 

 either side, instead of the fine road and exquisite views 

 we remembered that other way. We had not been so 

 annoyed with ourselves since we did not go to Provi- 

 dence to start westward. That came out all right, how- 

 ever, and we went to Providence after all. We had to 

 trust to providence to pacify us this time, for we could 

 not go back as we did then. 



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