. Here and there in New England and Canada . h Dome, and again over the topof Tripyramid and Whiteface, and so descended to the Lake Country. Butit is much more sensible, and conducive to integrity of garments, to returndown the Mad-River road, after a sufficient stay in the glen. The air isremarkably pure and cool, the falling waters are clear as crystal, and themajestic mountain-slopes nobly enfold the dainty little valley. Conventionalsouls find here their opportunities for knitting afghans and reading novels,for poring over newspapers and playing whist; and the adventurous andathletic may


. Here and there in New England and Canada . h Dome, and again over the topof Tripyramid and Whiteface, and so descended to the Lake Country. Butit is much more sensible, and conducive to integrity of garments, to returndown the Mad-River road, after a sufficient stay in the glen. The air isremarkably pure and cool, the falling waters are clear as crystal, and themajestic mountain-slopes nobly enfold the dainty little valley. Conventionalsouls find here their opportunities for knitting afghans and reading novels,for poring over newspapers and playing whist; and the adventurous andathletic may ramble to the Cascades, the Greeley Ponds, the Flume (Water-ville has one of its own), and other fair woodland scenes. And here beginthe paths up the great mountains of Osceola and Tecumseh and SandwichDome (so called by scientific persons, though the rustics number it amongtheir many Black Mountains), each a tramp of miles, mostly vertical, andyielding fascinating views over the Lake Country and the wild pell-mell ofhighlands to the AGASSIZ BASIN, 86 CHAPTER XIX. THE ASQUAMCHUMAUKE VALLEY. A Trail of Centuries.— Rumney.— John Stark, Trapi-er and Gen-eral. — Wentvvorth. — Warren. — Moosilauke. THE ancient Indian trails led out from Plymouth up the long valley ofthe Asquamchumauke (asgiiam, water; wadchu, mountain; m foreuphony; auke, place — Water of the Mountain-Place), the riversince re-named in honor of Capt. Baker, the gallant ranger. TheProvincial turnpike followed the same route; and now the railway, by whichwe have flashed up the country from Boston and Lowell, sweeps along thesame highway of centuries. First it enters the narrowing glens of Rumney,hemmed between high and shaggy mountains, and with its two whitehamlets, where several scores of refugees from the cities spend their vaca-tion-days. When John Stark was a poor young trapper, hunting along thisstream, with three companions, he fell into the hands of the Indians, who,hiding themselves, tried


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