The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1855-09-06
THE WHITE MoUNTAINs-oU SUMMER
HOME.

The season has not been the most favorable
for soiourn in the mountains. A little more
warmth, and fewer rainy days, would have been
acceptable. But, on leaving this, summer
home, can think only of the bright days
and glorious sunsets. Pleasant friends, too,
we have had in abundance, so that when it was
dreary outside, within doors there was blessed
sunshine.
We still cling to the Flume House, rs place
of permanent resort, preferable to the other
mountain hotels. The prospect down the val
ley of the Remigewasset is unsurpassed, and
the moun<ai1s here assume their most beauti-
full forms. The proprietors, Messrs. Tyler d
Rives, are polite, the entertainment most ex-
cellent, and the company all that heart could
wish.
The Profile House, six miles above, standing
in the Franconia Notch, is a much handsomer
Gilman * Huntress. know well how 10 make
hotel life agreeable; and there are some who
prefer its locality to this.
OF the scenery here-Echo Lake, the Old
Man OF the Mountain, the Basin, the Pool the
Flume-it is not necessary to speak. Sketches
and descriptions of them abound in New Eng
land-but new scenery has lately been brought
TO light, which, in picturesque beauty and rug
ged grandeur, exceeds them all. One, whose
initials are not unknown TO the readers of the
Era, furnishes, in the following extract, the first
description Of what may be called
FRANcoNIA FALLS.
must give you glimpse of our mountain
life. The day is one of surprising loneliness
The bright, warm sunshine on the mountain
tops contrasts gloriously with the cool shadows
OF the birch and maple and beach trees, that
skirt the road along the valley. The air, that
creeps silently through the bristling tops of the
hemlock, spruce, and fir, on the mountain side,
comes with a soft, rustling sound, through the
tender leaves of the maple and birch, and sets
them dancing to its gentle music. Gay asters
fringe the roadside, and crimson clusters of
moose berries CLEAN from every thicket.
Now, dare say you have already pictured
: to yourself an idle party strolling along the
valley at sunset, leach on his separate thought
intent:" c. "doing homage to nature" in
high sentimental" or vague metaphysical ~
mood" NJ exalted and devotional; while
BIS low, mocking laugh, and quiet satire.
come like "discord in divinest melodv.n
Never were you more mistaken. At an early
hour of the morning, behold us marshalled in
grotesque array, for what is here most unpoeti
cally called a scramble" Ladies with broad
hats, short skirts, and high boots; and timic
ladies, with uncertain step, made more inse
cure by trailing garments; gentlemen in boot,
with high, iron-shod heels, admirably adapted
10 secure a firm footing on the smooth grant,
rocks up which we are to Chamber; and last
but not least, noisy chidren-for what would
such an excursion be, without the music o
their merry voices and their untiring fun
OFF we start, some In wagons some on foot, Il
our rendezvous at the Basin" Here we eros
the Pemigewasset river, and at single bound
for the river rushes from the Basin through
deep, narrow assure, between two lodges O
granite. A gallant gentleman steps boldl
across to lead the way, finds the passage easy
and returns to the near or shelving side, tina
ne IuHl dSStot Tic uc pltuL
himself striking with his iron-shod heel upol
the smooth, hard rock, to secure better foot
hold. Alas, the slippery steel betrays his feet
and down he goes in the narrow channel, an,
into four feet Of water Such shouts of laugh
ter and cIapping of hands, in which the victim
joins rather ruefully, as he stands helplessl
waiting to be pulled out Everybody laughs
for everybody expects to be in the same fix
before the day is over. The path now lead
across the woods for few hundred yards, an
then we descend steep bank, to the stream Q
"The Cascades"
All, Won have never heard of the Cascade
before "The Pool" and "I'he Flume," an
"The Basin," and q The Old Man of the Noun
tain," and Echo Lake, have all been chror
icled and sketched for years. They are an oil
story, bat the Cascades are as new to the pull
lie as was the New World to the adventurou
mariner. Now and then, woodman, or
trout fisher, have gone prospecting" alonI
Its 11anks, but with no eye for anything Blu
timber and trout; and SO the beautiful strear