. The White hills; their legends, landscape, and poetry. a bee, was ready and anxiousto take charge of any person or company that would try to exploreand scale it. So I endeavored to muster a small band for theattempt under his lead, knowing that we should all be safe in hischarge and under his counsel. He is acquainted with the wildernessof the White Mountains as David knew the forests of Ziph, or Solo-mon the botany of Palestine. Last year, however, I was not suc-cessful in my efforts to collect recruits. But this month I found THE ASCENT OF MOUNT WASHINGTON. 363 enough to justify the trial.


. The White hills; their legends, landscape, and poetry. a bee, was ready and anxiousto take charge of any person or company that would try to exploreand scale it. So I endeavored to muster a small band for theattempt under his lead, knowing that we should all be safe in hischarge and under his counsel. He is acquainted with the wildernessof the White Mountains as David knew the forests of Ziph, or Solo-mon the botany of Palestine. Last year, however, I was not suc-cessful in my efforts to collect recruits. But this month I found THE ASCENT OF MOUNT WASHINGTON. 363 enough to justify the trial. A lawyer of Boston, who proved himselfa thoroughly furnished wood-man, a clergyman, an artist, and yourcorrespondent, were the quartette of novices, and with our admirableguide formed a harmonious, and as it turned out, a competent quin-tette club for the excursion. Tuesday, the eleventh, in the afternoon, was the time for start-ing. It had rained in the morning. The clouds were heavy anddark after dinner, and blanketed the mountains. But the wind was. favorable, and, according to Mr. Gordons barometrical instinct, thtsigns were auspicious for the succeeding day. Some friends werekind enough to escort us from the Alpine House to the base ofAdams, two miles beyond the farther side of Randolph Hill, wherewe were to strike into the forest. Just as we arrived opposite Madi-son, the cloak and cap of mist were thrown off, and the symmetricalmountain saluted us in an aristocratic suit of blue-black velvet. Andas we reached the point where we were to leave the wagon, the foglifted from the ravine also. Both its sides, its upper plateau, and its 354 THE WHITE HILLS. far-retreating wall looked full upon us in shadow so gloomy, as if the oldmountain Avas making one last and crowning eiFort to frighten us fromour enterprise, and save his savage chasm from desecration by humanfeet. The prospect was not very enticing, especially as the rainhegan to fall again when the horses stopped. But we


Size: 1811px × 1380px
Photo credit: © The Reading Room / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No

Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, booksubjectwhitemo, bookyear1876