. The White hills; their legends, landscape, and poetry. bel CraAvford, in his old age, Avas never tired of telling storiesof the hardships and adventures of the pioneers. He Avas wellnamed the • veteran pilot of the hills; for he Avas the first guidethat introduced visitors to the grandeur of the scenery so easilyreached now, and he saAv the gradual process of civilization appliedto the wilderness between Bethlehem and Upper Bartlett. When hewas about tAventy-five years old, he Avandered through the regionalone for months, dressed in tanned mooseskin, lord of the Cradle, hunting-ground, and b
. The White hills; their legends, landscape, and poetry. bel CraAvford, in his old age, Avas never tired of telling storiesof the hardships and adventures of the pioneers. He Avas wellnamed the • veteran pilot of the hills; for he Avas the first guidethat introduced visitors to the grandeur of the scenery so easilyreached now, and he saAv the gradual process of civilization appliedto the wilderness between Bethlehem and Upper Bartlett. When hewas about tAventy-five years old, he Avandered through the regionalone for months, dressed in tanned mooseskin, lord of the Cradle, hunting-ground, and bierOf wolf and otter, bear and deer. THE SACO VALLEY. 221 He assisted in cutting the first footpath to the ridge, and atBeventy-five, in the year 1840, he rode the first horse that climbedthe cone of Mount Washington. During the last ten vears of hialife he was a noble object of interest to thousands of visitors from allparts of the United States, for whom the whole tour of the hills hadbeen smoothed into a pastime and luxury. He died at He had been so long accustomed to greet travellers in the summer,that he longed to have his life spared till the visitors made theirappearance in Bartlett, on their way to the Notch. He used to sitin the warm spring days, supported by his daughter, his snow-whitehair falling to his shoulders, waiting for the first ripple of that large 31 222 THE WHITE HILLS. tide which he had seen increasing in volume for twenty years. Notlong after the stages began to carry their summer freight by hisdoor, he passed away. We have a very pleasant recollection ofthe venerable appearance of the patriarch in front of his houseunder Mount Crawford, in the year 1849, when we made our firstvisit to the White Hills. A large bear was chained to a pole nearthe house, and the stage load of people had gathered around, equallyinterested in seeing a specimen of the first settlers and of the aborig-inal tenants of the wilderness. The old man handed the writer
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