373 
AMERICAN ACRICULTURTST. 
[September, 
Xlie Hail.’ Worm.— Some one has sent us 
a specimen of the Hair Worm, sometimes calied Hair 
Snake. It is a dark colored aquatic worm, about a foot 
long, and exceedingly slender and hair-like. These 
worms belong to the genus Gordius, the most common 
species, being aquations. They have the habit of twist¬ 
ing themselves up in most complicated knots, and the 
name Gordius was probably given to them on this ac¬ 
count, in allusion to the Gordian knot. Among boys the 
notion prevails that these worms are horse hairs, which 
have fallen into the water and become vitalized. It is 
hardly necessary for us to say that this is an absurd error. 
Among the White Mountains. 
EDITORIAL CORRESPONDENCE. 
Gorham, N. H., July 24, 1865. 
While at Geneva, Switzerland, three years ago this 
month, I fell in company with some English gentlemen, 
and the conversation naturally turned upon mountain 
scenery, as Mont Blanc was in view from our hotel 
window. I was asked about the “ White Mountains of 
New Hampshire,’’ and felt no little chagrin at being un¬ 
able to speak knowingly of them. I turned the subject 
as speedily as possible, and talked of our great rivers— 
the beautiful Hudson and the Niagara, and particularly 
of the grand Mississippi and its branches, which I could 
describe from St. Paul and from Pittsburg, all the way to 
New Orleans. On this topic we can out-talk all Europe, 
and “the rest of mankind”—east of the Atlantic. And 
here let me say, that no one should go abroad, sight-see¬ 
ing, until he has been not only down the lower Missis¬ 
sippi, but up as far as St. Paul and Minnehaha Falls, and 
also along the thousand miles of the Ohio from Pittsburg 
to Cairo. Nothing will give one a grander conception of 
our country and of its majestic scenery. There is 
nothing in Europe to be named in comparison. The 
Rhine has been written upon in thousands of journals 
and volumes ; and it is well worth visiting, especially the 
80 or 90 miles between Bingen and Bonn, where the vine- 
clad banks and the ruins of numerous old stone Castles 
are interesting—the latter from the legends connected with 
them. But. to say nothing of the Hudson and the Niagara, 
or of the Ohio and its confluents, the upper Mississippi, 
in my estimation at least, far excels in interesting natural 
scenery any thing found along the Rhine. But to return 
from this digression. After the above tacit confession of 
ignorance respecting our own Alpine scenery,! resolved 
to take the first opportunity after the close of the war, to 
study it; and I am here partly for this purpose, and part¬ 
ly on a tour of agricultural observation and business. 
I have been pleased with the ride up from Portland, to¬ 
day, over the Grand Trunk R. R. (though not quite as 
pleasant as it would have been, but for the poor and 
poorly served dinner in the Portland Depot.) There is 
better land and a more advanced state of cultivation than 
1 expected to find in Oxford County, Me. Many of the 
meadows and pastures, with their meandering streams, 
graceful elms, and grazing herds, equal the finest rural 
paintings I have ever seen. Indeed, I think a fine oil 
painting at home must have been sketched near Bethel. 
Here we first struck the Androscoggin river, and thence 
followed its winding course twenty-one miles to this 
point. But space will not allow me to do more than give 
a few general impressions, gathered in my journey, here 
and elsewhere. 
( Summit of Mt. Washington, 
j 6 o’clock A . M., July 26. 
Beautiful! Grand ! Glorious !! I had half suspected 
hotel keepers, paid writers, and enthusiasts, of over¬ 
praising (he White Mountain scenery. Pardon the suspi¬ 
cion. The half has not been told, and can not be. It is 
worth a thousand miles of foot travel to enjoy one view 
like this !—Yesterday morning two of us, with our ladies, 
left the Alpine House at Gorham, and drawn by four good 
horses, came eight miles through the Glen, or Vabey of 
the Peabody, to the foot of Mount Washington, and then 
eight miles more up the steep road cut along the declivity 
of the mountain; and an excellent road it is, running 
now to the left and now to the right, in a zig-zag course, 
and rising almost uniformly one foot in eight. The first 
half is through evergreen forests, from openings in 
which we get occasional glimpses of the gradually sink¬ 
ing vallies. At one point we have a good view of the 
summits of the five adjoining mountain peaks, lying from 
south-west to north-east, viz.: WashingtoE, Clay, Jeffer¬ 
son, Adams, and Madison, (phonetically remembered in 
thisorderby Winter-Cherry-J-A-M.) All these are over a 
mile (5280 feet) in hight, viz.: Washington, 6285 feet; 
Adams, 5800; Jefferson, 5700; the other two each 5400 
feet. After four miles of ascent, the trees begin to grow 
stunted ; then we find perfectly formed trees only five or 
six feet high; then mere shrubs ; and the last two miles, 
only masses of loose rocks, with scarcely any vegetation 
but scattering lichens and mosses. The road up these 
rocks is almost frightful to the timid and uninitiated , but 
one is reassured by the fact that while tens ef thousands 
have ascended, no one has ever received harm. The 
scenery, even two-thirds of the way up, is grand beyond 
my power to describe. “ We could go home even now, 
well repaid for the toil and cost of our journey hither,” 
was the frequent expression of our party. Before we 
reached the top, thick clouds swept over and around us, 
shutting out of view almost the road under our feet. The 
cold was so great that our thick under flannels, warm 
clothing, and over-coats, were very agreeable. We were 
soon in rain clouds, driven so fiercely that umbrellas 
could not-be held ; and even the wagon-top was furled and 
taken down to prevent our being blown over. It is need¬ 
less to say, we enjoyed all this—the very thought of rid¬ 
ing among the clouds well repaid any discomfort of wind 
and rain. Reaching the summit, we found warm rooms 
in the two “tip-top” houses—low built of rough stones, 
and covered with roofs anchored down by long chains 
drawn over them and bolted to the rocks. A storm on the 
Atlantic was mild in comparison with the howling winds 
and driving rain that swept around us for the half of the 
night. But a merrier crowd I never saw than the fifty or 
sixty of us gathered last night, in the outwardly rude, but 
interiorly comfortable dwellings. The cloud mist pene¬ 
trated every seam and crevice, but roaring birch-wood 
fires kept up all night in the large sheet-iron stoves, with 
warm bedding, dispelled the cold and dampness. 
At 4 A.M. we were awakened by a bell, and the welcome 
announcement that we might perhaps see the sun rise. 
Every body was soon up and dressed, and wrapped in 
cloaks and hoods and over-coats, the w'hole company 
were quickly out, clambering over the rocky peak, each 
striving to get the highest stand-point. The sky was al¬ 
most clear above, but below us the massive clouds hung 
over the vallies all around, and were still shedding down 
copious rain drops. Only here and there could be seen 
the hill-summits that rose above the vapor, like little 
islands in mid-ocean. As the sun came up from below 
the eastern horizon, the view around was like the ocean 
in one vast surging foam. An exultant shout rose from 
every tongue. “Grand!” “glorious!” “wonderful!” 
“ sublime ! ” “ charmant! ravissant! magnifique .'” were 
faint expressions of the feelings that swelled up in every 
heart. This anniversary of my birth-day will stand out 
distinct from every other. I saw nothing among the Alps 
to equal this. My conceptions of the grandeur of earth, 
of the greatness of Him who reared these hills, who 
formed the higher mountains elsewhere, who spread out 
the plains, and hollowed out the bed of the ocean, have 
never before been so exalted as on this morning. Just 
now the cloud-sea has sunk into the lowest vallies, and 
ceased to pour out rain. It looks like little lakes scat¬ 
tered among hills. We can at this moment look over al¬ 
most half of New England. I cannot describe the scene. 
Mr. Starr King, in his book of the “ White Hills,” and 
Mr. Eastman, in his smaller Guide Book, have attempted 
to depict it; but even Mr. King’s beautiful language falls 
infinitely below the reality. Reader, if you ever travel, 
before the railway shall open an easy route to the Rocky 
Mountain summits, go not first to Switzerland, but wend 
your way to the top of Mount Washington, and abide 
here until you have enjoyed both a storm and a clear sky. 
Franconia Notch, July 29. 
The Notches, or Mountain Passes.— The mountain 
^nge across northern New Hampshire, is cut through 
Worn north to south by three main depressions or vallies, 
through which wagon roads have been constructed. 
Along the eastern side of Mount Washington is a valley 
in which the Peabody river runs northward into the 
Androscoggin, and the Ellis flows south towards Conway, 
entering the Saco near Bartlett. The middle valley, seven 
or eight miles west of the above, is very narrow at one 
point, where it is called the “ Crawford Notch ’’—there 
being but a wagon road between the precipitous cliffs. 
At the Cra- 'ford House, near the middle of this valley, 
and just north of the Crawford Notch, the Saco river 
rises in a spring nea? the house and runs southward, 
then eastward, entering the Atlantic near the south-west 
corner of Maine. At the barn is another spring, from 
which the water flows northward, enlarging into the 
Ammonoosuc river. This enters the Connecticut, which 
debouches into the L. I. Sound at Saybrook. The Fran¬ 
conia Valley and Notch are a dozen miles or so west of 
the Crawford or Saco Valley. In this, near the centre, 
are the head waters of the south branch of the Ammo¬ 
noosuc, running northward, and of the Pemigewasset 
river, flowing southward and helping to form the Merri- 
mac river, which passes through Lowell and Lawrence 
in eastern Massachusetts, and thence into the Atlantic. 
The most interesting objects in the “ Crawford Notch” 
are Mount Willard, from which is a very fine view of the 
Gap and Valley; the Silver Cascade, a most beautiful 
little stream that dashes down the mountain side for 
hundreds of feet, its broken waters resembling molten 
silver; and the “ Willey House,” where, Aug. 28, 1826, a 
mountain slide buried a family of this name. 
Leaving the Summit of Mt. Washington, we returned 
down the carriage road sixteen miles to Gorham, and 
went by stage round northward over Randolph Hill, and 
to the “ Wambeck House” in Webster, where we en¬ 
joyed a first-rate country dinner. Here we had a fine 
view of the whole Mt. Washington Range, and of the 
Crawford and Franconia Hills. From this point we went 
some fifteen miles south or sout-east to the Crawford 
House, over a pretty safe road, but not a very smooth one. 
“ A rough, stony road,” we said to the driver. 
“Yes. somewhat stony ; but you take the stones away 
and you won’t have any road left.” 
Not a bad description of many of the roads in the 
mountains. The 48 miles ride around can be shortened 
to 7 miles, by taking a bridle-path, on horseback or on 
foot, from the Summit of Mt. Washington down its west¬ 
ern side, to Crawford Notch. Until the construction of 
the carriage road on the east side, this path was the one 
usually taken to the Summit; and though rough and 
steep, it is now adopted by large numbers who enjoy 
severe horseback exercise—ladies as well as gentlemen. 
There is no direct road or path-way from Crawford 
Notch to Franconia Notch. Though only a dozen miles 
across, a journey of 27 miles is required by stage, around 
by way of Bethlehem, to enter the Franconia Notch from 
the north. The most prominent objects of interest here 
are the Profile, or “ Old Man of the Mountain,” just 
south-west of the Franconia House; the Flume, six 
miles down the valley south ; the “ Pool ” and “ Basin,” 
not quite so far down ; the Echo Lake, half a mile north; 
and especially Mount Lafayette, to the east. Starting 
early this morning, I spent six hours in going up this 
mountain and returning, on horseback. The view from 
the naked summit, 5200 feet or a mile high, is extensive, 
and exceedingly interesting, second only to that on Mt- 
Washington; while the ascent is exciting, to say the 
least. Y’our sharp-shod and sure-footed beast literally 
climbs up and descends over a stony path, so steep that 
you must lie nearly flat down sometimes and grasp the 
mane to avoid slipping off. At some points, cross-poles 
are bolted to the smooth steep rocks to furnish climbing 
foot-holds. Every man coming here should enjoy this 
ride. Ladies accustomed to horseback riding, often ac¬ 
complish the feat. Until to-day, 1 had no Idea that a 
horse could climb such steep mountain sides—those 
which at a little distance look like perpendicular rocks. 
The Old Man of the Mountain, or the “ Profile,” is 
an object of great interest. Standing near the narrow 
part of the Franconia Valley, or Notch, and looking up 
to the west, you see standing out upon the mountain brow, 
a clear, distinct profile of a Human Face, so well set that 
the mind insensibly almost endows it with life. I send 
herewith an original sketch, taken with the aid of a glass, 
which shows the rocks more plainly than they appear to the 
unaided eye. The length of the face is estimated to be 
about 70 feet; yet as it is seen at the lofty hight of nearly 
1500 feet above you, it appears no larger than that oi 
some huge human giant. But from the fact that the 
mountain side is entirely inaccessible, one would be 
constrained to believe some human handi-work had aided 
in fiohioning the features ef this Granite Face. 
The Flume is one of Nature’s most curious freaks. A 
deep chasm, 20 to 60 feet wide, appears almost as if hewn 
out of solid rock, with perpendicular walls 60 to 70 feet 
high. Down this chasm the water runs and leaps in a 
succession of cascades over a rocky bed, for hundreds of 
feet. At the narrowest point, a huge rock or boulder 
seems to have fallen into the top of the chasm, and there 
it remains firmly fastened, though appearing ever ready 
to drop upon the heads of those venturing under it. 
You will not have space for a description of the 
“ Basin” and “ Pool,” and of the “ Echo Lake,” a beau¬ 
tiful sheet of water surrounded by lofty hills, which 
send back in a hundred echoes a “ halloo ” or the report 
of a pistol. I go hence to visit Canada East. 0, J, 
