872 



NEW ENGLAND FARMER, 



MAT 30 1838. 



We tliijik our ifaders will be interested in llie 

 following Tour to the White Mountains, wliicli 

 we have extracted from the last numher of Silli- 

 nian's American Jo(n'nal. 

 Popular J^Tottces of .Vount Washington and the. 



vicinilij ; hy G. W. Nichols, with additional 



remarks by the Editor. 



Bedford, JV. Y. Jan. 10, 1838. 

 To Proftssor Silliman. 



Dear Sir — Having made a short tour through 

 . New Engiatid, in the summer of 1S36, I now .^^eud 

 you for the American Journal, some notices ol 

 scenery and "other objects, which fell under my 

 observation while passing through the White 

 moiiniains of New llanipshire. 



On Wednesdi.y, August 17, 1S36, I left Bath, (a 

 neat ati<! enterprising villag;; on the Amonoosuck 

 ■river,) for the While tiiountains. The riile from 

 this place was truly dulightful ; for it was under 

 a dear sky, Jiud very agreealdy diversified by 

 ■beautiful and .splendid scenery. Our road lay, a 

 part of the ti nic, along the picturesqiie banks ol 

 the Amonoos uck, and it l.d us al.so over hills and 

 through deuMc forests of stately evergreens. The 

 level countr ^, which had followed us along the 

 banks of the Connecticut, was soon exchanged for 

 gradual un^ Julations, of a region with ii barren 

 soil, which continued to rise higher, and s|)rcad 

 wilier, untih we reached the valley lying near the 

 base of the mountaias. A very perceptible differ- 

 eru'.e in thi j temperature could be felt, as we grad- 

 uidly mad e our way upward ; and, notwiihstand- 

 iiig it was now not l;u- from the middle of August, 

 the scanty crops had nearly all been destmyeu by 

 the frost. Indeed, the weather was so cold, that 

 blazing f ,res were found at most of the inns where 

 ■no stopi ,ed. The sparse populatiuu of the moun- 

 tarns is obliged to depend upon the neighboring 

 country for their agricultural supplies, and all 

 jthat is ' oot consumed, fnds a market in Portland. 

 Now a nd then, as you pass along, the eye rests 

 >upon a I little strip of cleared land, composing the 

 farm o f some mountaineer. There was one which 

 peculi nrly arrested our attention. It embraced, 

 along with a few acres of ground, a small rude 

 hut, consisting of pine logs pile<l otu upon the 

 othe r, and made tight by means of plaster. A 

 roof of rough boards was thrown over the logs. — 

 What a contrast between this rude habitation and 

 the splendid mansions of our cities ! Scic^nce and 

 commerce nourish the arts, and the arts make the 

 ditference between the mountain hut and the city 

 palace. 



The scenery, as you approach the mountnin, 

 increases in grandeur and sublimity. Vast and 

 interminable ridges of mountains rise on all sides, 

 one above aT-othcr, until they seem to be blended 

 with the distant horizon. 'I'he white peaks of 

 these mountain groups, appearing as if snow clad, 

 tower above all other objects and hide themselves 

 in the clouds. 



Ascent of lite Mountain. 

 On Thursday uiorniug, August 18lh, our com- 

 pany (consisting of three persons and the guide) 

 liift the dwelling of oin- host at the early hour of 

 six. Thence vve- proceedi;d, as fast as our horses 

 could carry us, tlirough forests, over swamps and 

 rugged steeps, by a jiath filled with mud, stones, 

 and routs of trees. Arriving at some distance 

 from the foot of .Mount, Washington, our horses 

 were tied to trees and thence we proceeded on 



foot. The ascent was al first giadual, but soon 

 became in the main exceeilingly steep, and we 

 scrandded on over rocks, piled one upcm another, 

 and answering for rude stairs. Nearly half our 

 journey troni the foot of the moimtain was through 

 a pine forest, and the n^st over rocks and barrens. 

 The whole distance ascended on foot is three 

 miles. About half way up, I diecerned a small 

 shrub adhering to the rocks in the tnanner of a 

 vine, and named by our guide the dwarf sjiruce. 

 This was the last appearance of vegetation. The 

 summit, for the distance of half a mile on all siiles, 

 is composed of immense rocks, promiscuously 

 heaped together, while the view which it aflbids, 

 is beyond what the most vivid imagination can 

 conceive. In this elevated region, soft, silky 

 clouds were seen floating aroi;nd and beneath. — 

 And no object coidd be more splendidly gorgeous, 

 than one of these clouds when illumined by the 

 sun. The barrenness of an unbroken winter, 

 whose bleak winds are whistling arotmd, rests on 

 all the scene. Towards the west, north, and south, 

 it might be said of the mountains, 



" Like Alps on Alps they rise," 

 until, on the east, their summits mingle with the 

 heavens. An immense valley stretches out before 

 you, in which the Saco may be distinctly seen 

 pursuing its way to the ocean. The furrows aiid 

 rnins of a number of avalanches too, are visible in 

 the siiles of the mountains. These possess a mel- 

 ancholy interest from the fact, that one of them, 

 about eleven years since, born onward from the 

 mountain top by a sudden deluge,* swept away 

 an entire family, (nine in number,) into the Saco, 

 where their bodies were foutnl auiong the earth, 

 and stones, and trees, the ruins transported by the 

 flood. On the following day, after niy return from 

 the mountain, 1 stopped to view the scene of this 

 trasical occurrence. It lies on the piddic road to 

 Portland, in a stupendous defile between the 

 mountaiiis, cotninonly called the ' Notch.' The 

 two mountain ridges here a;)]u-oach very near, and 

 there is only rootii for the small river Saco and a 

 road, with a few patclies of cultivated ground. — 

 The house in which this unfortunate family resi- 

 ded remains, and is now as it was then, an inn. 

 Those, who at that time ailministered to the ne- 

 cessities of the traveller, are now no more I It is 

 said that they ran out of the house during the 

 night, supposing that the avalanche was coming 

 directly upon them. Had they remiiined in the 

 house they would have been safe, an<l in emerging, 

 they ran to destruction ; for at the distance of only 

 a few yards from their dwelling, the fatal torrent 

 overtook them and swept them away.f The view 

 here presented of the mountain side.-, on the right 

 and left, is terrific in the extfiiftie. Enormous 

 le.lges of rock hang over thein, frowning upon the 

 traveller below. Heautifid cascades likewise nuiy 

 be seen, tumbling down over these cragged steeps, 

 and wliirling in crystal eddies in the deep foun- 

 tains which they have worn in the rocks. I spent 

 some time in searching for (]uarlz crystals, which 

 are frequently found ajiiong the hills. They are 



• So violent was ihe friction of the descending masses 

 of rocks, that streaks of liglU, filling the air with an 

 electrical odor, flashed alnng their paths, illuminating 

 the palpable darkness of that dreadful iiiglit.— Ed. 



1 Some additional particulars of the catastrophe of the 

 Willey family, alhuhd to by Mr Nichols, aro iiieiitionod 

 by me, in Vol. XV. p. 220, of this Journal. I visited 

 this place in lb28, with some friends, two years after the 

 event. — Ed. 



of the brown or smoky variety, soinelimes very 

 large and beautiful, and are kept for sale at the 

 public houses. After travelling some distance 

 amidst such scenery as this, we at length emerged 

 from the region of mountains and plunged again 

 into a wide forest, which intervenes between the 

 ' White hills ' and the city of Portland. 



Remarks by the Editor. 

 There are ifiany facts connected with the phy- 

 sical features of these mountains that are worthy 

 of description. Among them no one is more re- 

 markable, than the trap dykes which frequently 

 intersect the granite mountains, cutting them from 

 top to base, and downward, into pmfound and 

 unfiithomable depths ; their dark uias.sy walls 

 form a striting contrast with the white, gray, or 

 red granite, or granitic schists, through which 

 they have forced their way. But we leave the de- 

 scriiition of them to Prof. Hubbard, of Darttriouth 

 Colli!ge, whose accotint will be found in this num- 

 ber of our work. 



Being for the second time, among the White 

 mountains in the last week of August, of the late 

 season of 1837, I ascended Mount Washington on 

 the first of September, in company with my son 

 ard two gentlemen of Boston. 



The day was mild, and in the main the atmos- 

 phere was clear, with occasional flying clouds, 

 flitting over the sun, which frequently burst out 

 with Jiutumnal splendor, and illumined all the 

 magnificent mountain groups, and valleys, and 

 defiles, that cover this truly alpine region. The 

 traveller who undertakes the ascent of Mount 

 Washington, must lay his account to severe fa- 

 tigue. Ladies sotnetimes go on this atlventure, 

 but it were better, in tny judgment, that they 

 should not attempt it. It is scarcely possible to 

 afford them any material assistance ; they must 

 struggle almost unaided, first through the arduotis 

 forest-ride, where none but the practised and wary- 

 footed animals, that are trained to the service, can 

 carry them in safety ; and safely de] ends, very 

 much, upon permitting the horses to wend their 

 own way, unmolested by guiding, through the 

 deep mud holes, the tangled roots, and the pro- 

 jecting stones and tiudjer, which, i.otw ithstanding 

 all that has been done, (and much labor has evi- 

 dently been expended here,) still obstruct nosmall 

 portion of the journey through the woods. There 

 are, however, only two or three miles that are 

 thus anxious aiid fatiguing ; the rest is a plai.i an.-l 

 open road, the whole distance from the hotel to 

 the foot of the tnountain being six miles. When 

 the horses are abandoned, then commences the 

 severe labor. 



When we began our ascent, and during most of 

 its progress, I insisted that the party should halt 

 and sit down every twelve or fifteen minutes ; 

 three or four minutes of rest was, in general, suf- 

 ficient to restore a natural respiration and to 

 (tpialise the circidation of the blood, both being 

 much disturbed by an unceasing ascent, and the 

 muscles are thus overstrained and exhausted ; the 

 respiration becomes laborious and the circulation 

 is hurried on, especially through the lungs, with 

 oppressive and even dangerous celerity. These 

 precautions are of the utmost consequence in as- 

 cending mountains, and by the neglect of them 

 and especially by yielding to a false pride of vigor 

 and hardihood, and to an equally false shame of 

 being thought efTeminatc, health is hazarded, and 



