A WINTRY WILDERNESS. 
North of the Sandwich Mountains, inclosed 
by a circle of sombre peaks, there once lay a 
beautiful lake. Centuries ago its outflowing 
stream, now called Swift River, cut so deeply 
between the spurs of Chocorua and Bear moun¬ 
tains that the greater part of the lake drained 
away into the Saco at Conway, leaving its level 
bed a fair and rich-soiled intervale. 
By the road upon which the lake went out 
man in time came in, and founded in the bosom 
of the spruce-grown mountains a small but 
comparatively prosperous settlement. Having 
seen this hidden valley in summer, and taken 
account of its rare beauty and its remoteness 
from the wearisome machinery of the world, I 
yearned to know its winter charms, feeling sure 
that they would surpass those of summer as the 
fairness of snow surpasses the fairness of grass. 
Accordingly, in the latter part of December, 
1891, I went by rail with a friend to Chatauque 
Corner, and thence by sleigh up the weird pass 
between Chocorua on the south and Moat and 
Bear mountains on the north, gaining at night- 
