DOWN THE TORRENT'S PATHWAY. 289 
The level intervale was soon left behind, and 
the road began the descent towards the Saco. 
Swift River roared below us; brooks came tum¬ 
bling down their rough channels, poured under 
or across the road, and merged their currents 
in the river’s. The trees swayed and shook 
rain from their shoulders. Now in front of 
us, now to our left, the madly descending river 
and its presiding mountain walls were always 
in sight. The bare faces of the ledges, the rent 
hillsides and sloping sand-banks, the boulders 
heaped in countless numbers in the river bed, 
all told of forgotten days like this day of storm- 
fury, when the waters of the pent-up lake in 
the valley we had left rebelled against these 
hillsides and ledges, and tore them in frag¬ 
ments, sweeping over them towards the liberty 
of water, — the sea. 
The northern spurs of Chocorua came towards 
us through the mist as though to crush us; but 
the horses dashed on, leaving their threatening 
heights behind. Then Bear Mountain’s black 
spruces and glistening cliffs barred our way; 
but we followed the river’s lead and came out 
into the pastures and fields next to Moat. Af¬ 
ter nearly three hours of soaking, our steaming 
horses drew up at Conway station, and we were 
left to dry and await the train. Letters ac¬ 
cumulated during the week made the time pass 
