Year: 1870




NOLFBoRo, N. III. Aug. 18th, 1870
IT., <e Editor Of the Press:


II you would fully appreciate the beauty of
Lake Winnepiseogee step down to the hotel
landing on an evening during the full of the
moon, and after placing your party of some
half-dozen in the fiat bottomed vesesl dieni-
fled by the name of boat, row gently out on
the bosom OF the Lake. Select your time for
starting the half hour previous 10 moon rise
and be surethat the entire party are sufficient
ly romantic to drink in the Inspiration of the
hour noiselessly, and with keen enjoyment
When you have pulled some distance from the
shore withdraw your oars or else,by an occa-
sional dip just give the boat sufficient way to
furnish thesemolance of drifting, and gaze up
on the scene presented The hills that sur
round the Lake ale enveloped in a soft blue
haze like veil through which they seem to
loom up before you, assuming colossal proper
tions. On the side toward the village the lights
in the dwellings down by the water gleam out
like so many setting stars, while high above
them on its lofty eminence, sits the hotel.
like some old baronical castle ablaze from loun-
dation to cupola and ever the water is waited
the laughter and song of the guests, and the
music Of pianos and violin SO subdued and
mellowed by the distance that it seems like an
accompaniment to vision of elfn land. On
one side life, light and the sounds Of joy and
happiness: on the other,high hills towering
above you and above the black water, with q
narrow passage between them, seeming so
dark and uninviting that it recalls forcibly TO
your mind the lines from Dante's Inferno,
"Leave hope behind all ye who enter here"
But oh! thread of silver appears dancing on
ripple in form like fairy circle, the circle
face giving place 10 flood of moonlight as
the great orb majestically rises above the belt
of hill throwing every object into bold relief
and the soft breeze springing up the zephyr
ridden rpples dance to the shore tipped with
the silver sparkle of the moon, murmuring
song oftheir own which, added to the lovliness
of the scene recall the words Of the poet


so boatman cease thy mellow song


0 minstrel drop thy Tyre;


Let us hear the voice OF this inland sea,


Let speak as the waves INSPIRE


While the pashy dips of the languid oar


Is a tutrow Of silver fire.


And so we float until the advancing light
in the distance warns us it is time to return
to the realities of HE and leave our "chat-
teaux en- Espagnes" for crowded parlor aud
"the dip waltz" or the portland Fancy" the
latter danced to the strains of an old fashion,
ed jig, played night after night, and aptly de-
scribed by German gentlemen as well calcu-
lated to give person typhoid fever The
advancing light is that of the "Lady of the
Lake" IRON Center Harbor and reluctantly
our boatmen pulls toward the landing. But
how is this? The steamer seems to gain on
us! Faster and faster the oars are piled but
still the steamer appears above to cut OIL our
advance and nothing is heard but the terri
BILE thud, thud, of the machinery. The boat
men bend their backs over their work and the
frail craft appears to spring through the wa
ter but like remorseless Nemesis the steam
er bears down upon us seemingly unconscious
of the shouts of the men and the screams OF
the ladies, when suddenly she apparently
awakes to lhe situation, voices are heard, peo.
pie are seen hurrying on the deck, and she
glides by us so close that the lady in the sterr
sheets of our boat can almost place her hant
ON the bow. The danger over, the boatmer
say there was no danger, the pilot saw u:
all the time; but adds afterwards that he new
er knew the steamer come so far in shore. Fol-
five seconds one of the passengers in that boat
made up his mind that the Portland PRESS
would very likely be minus an editor before
many minutes had passed.