Notices of Mount Washington and the vicinity. 75 



another, and answering for rude stairs. Nearly half our journey 

 from the foot of the mountain was through a pine forest, and the 

 rest over rocks and barrens. The whole distance ascended on 

 foot is three miles. About half way up, I discerned a small shrub 

 adhering to the rocks in the manner of a vine, and named by our 

 guide the dwarf spruce. This was the last appearance of vege- 

 tation. The summit, for the distance of half a mile on all sides, 

 is composed of immense rocks, promiscuously heaped together, 

 while the view which it affords, is beyond what the most vivid 

 imagination can conceive. In this elevated region, soft, silky 

 clouds were seen floating around and beneath. And no object 

 could 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 around, rests on all the scene. 

 Towards the west, north, and south, it might be said of the 

 mountains, 



" Like Alps on Alps they vise," 



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 

 and ruins of a number of avalanches too, are visible in the sides 

 of the mountains. These possess a melancholy interest from the 

 fact, that one of them, about eleven years since, borne onward 

 from the mountain top by a sudden deluge,* swept away an en- 

 tire family, (nine in number,) into the Saco, where their bodies 

 were found among the earth, and stones, and trees, the ruins 

 transported by the flood. On the following day, after my re- 

 turn from the mountain, I stopped to view the scene of this most 

 tragical occurrence. It lies on the public road to Portland, in 

 a stupendous defile between the mountains, commonly called 

 the • Notch.' The two mountain ridges here approach very near, 

 and there is only room for the small river Saco and a road, with 

 a few patches of cultivated ground. The house in which this 

 unfortunate family resided remains, and is now as it was then, an 

 inn. Those, who at that time administered to the necessities of 

 the traveller, are nov/ no more ! It is said that they ran out of the 

 house during the night, supposing that the avalanche was coming 



* So violent was the friction of the descending masses of rocks, that streaks of light, filling the 

 air with an electrical odor, flashed along their paths, illuminating the palpable darkness of that 

 dreadful night! — Ed. 



