Norwich bulletin., 1916-10-28
An October Vacation in the Mountains
By Aunt MehitabIs

miles west of North Woodstock. is a deep rocky canyon. At the entrance a small brook suddenly drops out of sight through a hole m the rocks and flows underground for half a mile through series of remarkable glacial caverns, many of them from forty to seventy-fve feet deep and some of them very dark. Although the brook sometimes is heard. it never again Is seen.
 We reached the entrance to the can yon at noon. Seated on the banks of a clear little brook we ate our lunch and rested awhile.
 The Society for the Protection of New Hampshire Forests has bought up tract of land. including and sur rounding the Lost River canyon, and to go through it. It would be unsafe for woman to do so in conventional attire, for she might trip on her skirt and be dashed upon the rocks.
 We rented overalls and retired in tent and we emerged therefrom with a feeling of freedom and ease which made us wish that overalls might all ways be in style. Accompanied by the official guide we entered the can yon through the Hall of Ships, so calI- ed because some of the rocks therein resemble the hull of a ship.
 Words can convey but a faint idea of the beauty and marvellous things that we saw as we clan1bered up and down numerous steep ladders and carefully trod narrow bridges over the crawled on our hands and knees through a hole in tho rocks. Be
 hind us were large rocks piled in reckless profusion and confusion; be- meath us mysterious caves and now and then a deep basin filled with clear water.
 The guide carried strips of birch
 bark, one of which he lighted when we
 entered any of the dark caves. By the
 light of this torch we could see the
 rocky walls surrounding us. Among
 the subterranean chambers that I re-
 member were the Cave of Silence, the
 Cave of Shadows, and the Cave of Lost
 Souls. The last was especially awe some.
 As we approached the exit of the canyon we felt warmer air and saw sunshine on moss and fern covered rocks.
 The final picture was beautiful Par adise Falls.
 On our homeward roure we saw oth- CT natural curiosities. The first was Agassiz's Basin. a large waterfall and deep pool. named in honor of Agassiz, who discovered them, snd upon them founded his glacial theory. A little further on we paused to ad
 mire Indian Head. High up on i. mountain top some projecting rocks
 present a striking resemblance to the face of an Indian. A grove Of trees on the summit back of the rocks forms the scalp lock. ..- Several miles beyond Indian Head we reached the road leading through the woods to The Plume. I was too
 tired from the trip through the Lost River canyon to attempt The Plume The raSt of tho amply rewarded for the long walk. The Plume is a conyon less marvellous than the Lost River canyon, but very wonderful and beautituI. A brook flows between it's steep. rocky walls down which smaller streams tumble At it's summit is a small cave. It is all above ground.
 We started on again and went through dense woods n the heart of the Franconian range. The sun was
 near it's setting when we reached The Old Man of The Mountains Eor ts'6reat Stone Face,' as Hawthorne calls it in his immortal allegory. Thousands of people have seen it and other thous- ands who never have visited the spot
 have become familiar with 1t through pictures. But no picture, whether of pen or brush, can adequately convey the impression made by that massive face with it's jmpetuabable and judicial expression.
 Tie illusion is produced by the
 edges and projecting points of three disconnected lodges which when view
 ed from a certain direction form the ! outlines of profile. When the be- holder changes his position the face vanishes and he sees only a rough jagged cliff. From the base of the pro- iection forming the chin 70 the top of
 that forming the forehead, the vtrtical
 distance is from thirty-six to forty feet. The setting for this profile is
 appropriately grand. It is on the sum-
 init N Canyon, or Prot1le Mountain, at an altitude of twelve hundred feet l above beautiful Profile lake. The sun was sinking below the hori- zon when we resumed our journey, leaving The Old Man to keep watch from his lofty throne over the dark and silent mountains.
 The moon rose and still we drove on by it's mellow light. We reached our boarding place at haI past eight in the evening, after eleven hours in the glorious mountain air.
 The limitations of space forbid me to tell of our trop to Moosilauke noun tain and the rash attempt to climb this
 steep and difficult pile.
 ,Willimantic.