Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1888-06-26

| ISL es1A nas "Hote company an excursion
to Long Falls, good string Of trout. and an
abundance of tar and oil for the mosquitoes to
Craze upon, We realize that We have passed q
very pleasant day and are content to continue
our journey.
The ladies' of the party, feeling that the
vicissitudes of three days have caused their
wardrobes to be somewhat depleted, are
DESTROYS of forenoon's shopping at Flag
staff. So. in compliance with their wishes,
We pull ourselves together and are soon
bowling merrily along. with old Bigelew
| towering at our left, the Dead river gliding
peacefully below on our right and Smith,
farm twenty miles dead ahead, alluring MS on.
We make Smiths at o'clock Saturday and
nnd that We have truly reached haven of
rest. No skeets. Mr.. Viles and his
estimable wife are all attention, and after
divesting ourselves of own generous coat of
tar and oil and donning our becoming tea
gowns, were pleased to find that the majority
of us at least look fresh as daisies" We are
all agreed that never have we passed more
delightful day than at Smiths farm The
cool, bracing air, the bright fresh foliage
the grand mountain scenery, the murmur of
the brook rushing down the hillside, and the
glorious rays of the descending sun touching
the mountain peaks with splendor, bringing
to mind with a charm hitherto unfelt, the
words
"Oh, what Is so a day in June"
Now for Tim Pond. The horses for the
ladies stand saddled at the door; yes, those
sleepy-eyed, angular beasts are horses, and,
as we find before travelling far, the only kind
of horses to accomplish successfully the
journey of six miles, through morass and
slough, over boulder and fallen tree, across
diiapidated corduroy bridges, upon the buck.
board % road to Tim Pond. The trip is made
in from two to ten hours, according as the
constitution of the person making it will
permit. We made it in two, of course, but
regret after made that we did not take ten.
On reaching Tim Pond we find quite a set
Element of log cabins, ten in number, large
general sale manger, and a carpenters
shop. The settlement looks from the north
through beautiful grove of lofty spruces,
on to a circular sheet of water, $50 acres in
extent On the right old Tim Pond noun
tain stands sentinel, thrustng his head far
above the other hills which completely sur
round the lake and send their wooded slopes
down quite to the waters edge. Here we are
in the heart of the Maine forest The hundred
varieties of wood birds utter their clear notes
undisturbed the timid deer comes fearlessly
at nghtfall to quench its thirst and battle its
heated limbs in the cooling waters of the
lake; above us the bald-headed eagle scars
in majestic dignity. A truly beautiful spot
is Tim Pond in its primitive forest grandeur
and isolation. In the words of Abbott, ''As
noble a domain as the Adirondack region and
deserving as hearty laudation, alike on the
score of its picturesque scenery, its balsamc
air, and its Astounding attractions for artist
wearied by care, study. or the clamorous de-
mands of fashionable follies, seek a restful
and joyful life in the open air"
We found here quite number of agree
able companions there being several persons
from Boston, one from New York, and one
who had come all the way from California to
enjoy a summers fishing and hunting at Tim
Pond.
With feelings of regret we turn our faces
homeward while we assure ourselves that
our first visit will not be our last. On bid
ding farewell to Smiths farm we pass to the
west of Mt. Bigelow and reach Stratton
where the ladies are overjoyed to find real
commercial center. After we have laid in
six months stock of hairpins and candy we
continue our journey to Kingfeld over a
very rough stretch of country; thence by way
of Salem to Phillips where we pass a most
refreshing night amid the civilization of the
Elmwood Wednesday June 20 we devoted
to climbing Mt. Blue. From the summit of
Mt. Blue most magnificent panorama is
presented. To the north are the dead River
mountains; on the west the White Mountains
in New Hampshire; away on the east the
Camden hills in the dim south the Maine
coast; while from our feet stretching away
on all sides to the far distant hills, lies our
own glorious State, dotted here and there by
its beautiful lakes and ponds, intersected by
net work OF streams, and enlivened by
countless hamlets, villages, towns and cities
The descent was made in about an hour
making five hours from the time of beginning
the ascent until the return, two hours of
which were spent at the summit
| Leaving Mt. Blue we wind on through a
what has been, perhaps correctly styled, the
Arcadia of Maine-the luxurant Sandy River
valley. We make short stay at Farming
ton, which we scarcely recognize, so great
has been the change since the fire, pay fly
ing visit to Little Blue the spot where the
Rollo Books were penned and find ourselves
whrlng through to Vienna, Mt Vernon and
Readfeld, back again to Augusta-and our
outing, which has seemed all too short is
ended, Pm.