Bradford opinion. [volume] (Bradford, Vt.) 1874-1881, 1878-08-24
Among the OxbOws.

10th,-ED.
"Tho self.same fountain doth life and growtl
to us and to them impart,
But only at moments we taste and know I'M
peace which is Natures heart"
So the poet sings, and so we be
lieve. And are not these the emo
ments rich in blessings,"-thest
summer days among the luxuriant
oxbows of northwestern New
Hampshire? "Why, them" asks ou1
enthusiastic companion, "doesn'
everybody come here 7" Probably
because everybody has found some
other haunt of the Beautiful, and
being Herewith content, takes nc
pains to search for "fresh woods
and pastures new" Or our mag
mary Everybody" being only
conventional American, simply fol
lows the fashion,-dances at the
Profile House, sentimentalizes al
the Flume, steams up "Jacob's Lad
der" to the top of Mt. Washington
and then, "doing" the awful Notch
in a railroad ride, feels the proud
consciousness of having seen the
mountains. Still, in the amiable
mood which this perfect midsum'
mer's day creates, l cannot help
wishing that the same ''everybody''
might visit this rich fringe on the
mountain district of New Hamp'
shire. Here are the fairest inter
wales in all the valley of the wind
ing Connecticut,-m un'
equaled in beauty by any Others
"these eyes, have ever looked upon.
And here, too, are noble hills,-not
the multitudinous peaks which be-
wilder us in the heart of the White
Mountain region, but hills of vari'
ed forms, from the creeping Cata-
mount just over the village to the
symmetrical Black Mountain of the
Benton Range, to the towering
Moosilauk, the western sentinel OF
the Franconia peaks,-hills to get
lovingly acquainted with, as you
see them standing out in their bold
individuality, or combining in pic
turesque groups with each other as
they fill the background of many
a glorious view.
This quiet old village of Haver-
hill, perched on high ridge above
the Connecticut, is our "Tranquility
Corner Not exactly a "Sleepy
Hollow" though the former enter
prise of the place departed long ago
in company with the grand old
stage-cOaches, whose coming and
going was the spectacle and excite
ment of every week day. Now the
Sabbath stiffness has an unbroken
reign, save when the county court
holds its uneventful sessions, or the
noisy circus draws a curious crowd
to the village green. This solemn
repOse, however, breeds no mental
rust in the inhabitants. If there is
no town library here with it's cease
less food of fiction to inundate the
youthful mind, their are neighbor.
hood book clubs, in which the sober
Littell circulates in company with
Harper's, Scribner's, and the Allan
tic. The Boston daily papers are
read in the late afternoon hours
with a deliberation and thorough.
ness wholly unknown to city read
ers, who give their newspapers a
hasty glance at the breakfast table,
or skim it's columns in the cars of
the suburban rail road train. Then,
for many years, Haverhill kept up
its Shakespeare Club, promoting
thereby a lively acquaintance with
the immortal dramas, and encour-
aging the rare art of reading aloud.
So long as the best literature is thus
thoughtfully studied in our quiet
New England homes. and the fresh
thoughts of living men find a con-
slant welcome, we need not despair
of this part, at least, of the great
republic.
Our favorite drives about Haver-
hill have been those which take us
along the river on either bank of
the serpentine stream. Let an old
writer introduce you to the scenes
which such drives afford -
GAS we cast our eyes up and
down the river, itself an object ex.
5remely beautiful, and with its TO-
mantle meanders extensively in
view, a chain of intervales, some
lines on one and sometimes on both
sides, extending from north to south
lot less than ten or twelve miles,
spreads before us like a new Eden,
covered with the richest verdure,
md displaying a thousand proofs
If eXuberant fertility" So said
good DR.. Timothy Dwight, Presi-
lent Of Yale College, in his "Trav-
lis in New England" first publish
ed in 1921.
The largest of this chain Of inter-
ales is the Great Oxbow, between
|ewbury and North Haverhill "a
road expanse of fertile land around
1hich the river sweeps in long
nd graceful curve, almost making
n island. We recall the Campus
Idrtius of old Rome, formed by the
of the Tiber; only the
eaceful name of our intervale Sug-
ests the contrast in the uses of
he two widely remote peninsulas.
md certainly not even the monu-
rents of the Eternal City, its clas.
ic temples and Christian churches
ow covering the ancient "Field of
lars" can give such pleasure as
le emerald green of these far
tretching fields of grass and corn,
1T off by the wavy masses of gold.
n grain, and the sombre pines by !
le rivers edge. There may be :
weller pictures of cultivated land r
cape than this on which we feast !
lr Unsuitable eyes, but, for one, | i
now not where they can be found. q
his satisfies. 1t is wanting in no i
ement of beautiful scenery. 1t is
perfect symphony of color, bril-
ant mosaic of land and water. t
The little hills rejoice on every S
Il a Il = Il, l..