THE WHITE HILLS. 93 



out at one's feet, whether in sunshine or in storm, 

 when from the heavy clouds below came the crash- 

 ing of the artillery of heaven, and the mutterings of 

 the tempest, or when the glad sunlight lit up the 

 distant hills, and made the countless lakes and 

 streams beneath to sparkle and glow like sheets of 

 silver. 



But it is forward, and not backward, we must 

 now look ; and our landlord informs us that the 

 train is about due which is to take us to Gorham. 

 It soon appears ; and we are seated, not in com- 

 pany with the multitude, but, through the courtesy 

 of the engineer, we are allowed the " first seat in 

 the synagogue," and place ourselves by his side in 

 the cab of the locomotive. 



" With pleasure, if you will take your own risk," 

 was that gentleman's reply to my request for the 

 privilege of a seat beside him. I do not think, 

 aside from the novelty of the situation, the change 

 from the accustomed seat was a favorable one. 

 There was a little satisfaction in being ahead, but 

 not so much in being jolted from side to side in a 

 manner strongly suggestive of getting a little too 

 far on one side, and not getting back in season. 



From Bryant's Pond to Gorham, where we take 

 stage for the Glen House, the distance is about 

 twenty-five miles ; and at four in the afternoon we 



