Frances S. Howe

“ How we slept, after a two-miles’ walk on the beach! Not a cannon, cracker, bell or tin horn, and the morning was like an old-fashioned Sunday. After dinner the children had a few torpedoes and crackers, so we knew our peace was not owing to prohibition. We never knew a hotel where children seem to have so much liberty, which is never abused, as at Bay View. Is this, too, owing to a woman’s tact? In the evening we watched the fireworks at Old Orchard, two miles away, and wondered whether we should keep to the coast, or follow up the Kennebec to Augusta, and go home through the mountains. ”

“ As we came into Gorham, we saw the first trolley since we left Fair Haven, Vermont, and had a glimpse of the Androscoggin River. The old Alpine House where we have always been was closed, but The Willis House proved a pleasant substitute.
Twenty miles from Gorham to Jackson, through Pinkham Notch, and we had forgotten the drive was so beautiful! Everything was freshened by the showers we watched the day before, and the mountains seemed nearer than ever. A river ran along with us over its rocky bed, the road was in fine condition, and we could only look, lacking words to express our enthusiasm. ”

“ We lunched at Ayer, lost our way trying to go from Shirley to Lunenburg (we rarely take a wrong road except when near home, where we are so sure we know we do not ask) , and were ready for our two-hours’ rest when we arrived. The dust we shook off there was more than replaced before we reached Fitchburg. So many people were driving it was like a trip through the clouds; and the heat was so great, with the sun in our faces all the way, we set that little drive apart as the most uncomfortable of our whole journey. ”

“ Lovely villas and charming grounds have supplanted the primitive huts and stubbed evergreens. Fine turnouts, bright girls in tennis, yachting and driving costumes, and now and then a real dude, not forgetting the “men of money” and stately dowagers,—all are here, yes, and processions of four-seated buckboards with liveried drivers seeking patronage,—everything in fact that goes to make a fashionable summer resort is found at Bar Harbor. The great charm of all is the grand combination of mountain and ocean. ”

“ Even a carriage journey on paper has some advantages, no dust, no discomfort of any kind; but we prefer the real thing, and enjoyed it so much we will change our mind and tell you a little about it. The places are all so familiar, and so near the “Hub” of the universe, that when you get to the end you may feel, as we did, as if you had not been anywhere after all. We did, however, drive four hundred miles, and had a very delightful time. ”

“ All was over when we started on our afternoon drive, but when half way to Hampton, the clouds grew black again, and we had barely time to drop the back curtain, put on the sides and unfasten the boot, before a tempest was upon us; a tempest of wind and rain—not a common rain, but pelting drops with thunder and lightning. We read afterwards that a buggy was blown over not many miles from us, but ours withstood the gale, and Jerry did well, although it seemed almost impossible at times for him to go on against the storm. ”

“ Poland Springs was our next point of interest, and we were well repaid for our drive to the top of the hill, where the immense hotel when filled must be a little world in itself, for all sorts and conditions of men are attracted there. We met Boston friends who invited us to the morning concert, in the music room. After dinner we climbed to the cupola for the view, then ordered Jerry and were off again. Sabbath Day Pond, which lay along our way, is fittingly named. It has no look of a weekday pond, but is a crystal, clear, peaceful perfection, that is indescribable. ”

“ The two or three days we spent there were interspersed with sermons, friendly reunions, rowing, and a trip to Wolfeboro on The Gracie, with a party of twenty. The talented company, the glories of the lake and shore scenery by daylight, the sunset tints, the moon in its full beauty, and the lightning darting through the black clouds in the distant north, with now and then a far-away rumbling of thunder, made a rare combination. ”

“ Why has no one ever written up the bright side of dull weather? The sun gets all the glory, and yet the moment he sends down his longed-for smiles, even after days of rain, over go the people to the other side of the car, the brakeman rushes to draw your shutter, the blinds in the parlor are closed, and the winking, blinking travelers on the highway sigh, “Oh, dear, that sun is blinding,” and look eagerly for a cloud. Then, if the sun does shine many days without rain, just think of the discomfort and the perpetual fretting. ”

“ Then we have a day’s drive, perhaps, of unsurpassed beauty, which no wire fence can enclose, as along the Connecticut River valley on the Vermont side with an unbroken view of New Hampshire hills, Moosilauke in full view, and the tip of Lafayette in the distance, the silvery, leisurely Connecticut dividing the two states and the green and yellow fields in the foreground completing the picture. No State Reservation or Park System can compete with it. ”

“ The nine miles’ drive over the hills in the afternoon of that glorious day was a joy and we gathered wild-flowers on the way for our ever young cousin who always welcomes us at the homestead. The “first subscriber” and the “authoress” followed by stage, and a tableful of cousins met at supper in the heart of the hills, as on the border of Lake Bomoseen the night before. After supper we all went to “Cousin Charlie’s” store, and he made us happy with taffy-on-a-stick. Our special artist “took” us, taffy in evidence, being careful to have our ever-young chaperone in the foreground. ”

“ It was a forlorn spectacle, and a striking contrast to the drive we had after retracing our steps to Whitefield. Charlie had traveled far enough for such a hot day, but we knew the Lancaster post office had something for us, and we could not wait, so started leisurely, promising to help poor Charlie all we could. He understood us well enough to stop at the foot of every hill, and at the top of very steep ones, to let us get out and walk. We were repaid a thousand times by the magnificent views of the Franconia range until we reached the highest point, when the glories north opened before us. ”

“ Last year we hurried along the coast to reach Old Orchard before the Fourth of July, as Jerry sometimes objects to fire crackers. This time we had fixed upon Weirs as a celebrating point, and after dinner with the Shakers, we started off for the eighteen miles’ drive. We had not driven an hour before a fearfully ominous cloud loomed up, which grew blacker and blacker, and very ugly looking. We sped through the street of Belmont, and barely got inside the little hotel when the rain fell in sheets, and the lightning flashed in all directions. ”

“ Every room commanded most beautiful views. From one window we looked along the Mohawk River to Dixville Notch, following the ten miles’ drive we were to have that afternoon.
A good dinner awaited us, when we came down to the hotel, and as we drove along the Mohawk Valley, after Jerry’s rest, we turned back many times for another glimpse of the beautiful outline against the sky.
Once in Dixville Notch, all else is forgotten in the stillness and beauty. The hotel was undergoing repairs, and many attractions were assuming form under the guiding hand of the landlady. ”

“ Suddenly a thunderstorm burst upon us; the rain fell in torrents, and hailstones rolled like marbles along the broad piazza. Surely the deluge we wished for had come, and, although it was not needed where water was everyhere, it could do no harm, and we enjoyed it to the utmost. We had planned to spend the night amid ocean, but it was so glorious after the skies [36] cleared, we could not resist the temptation to have a drive while Nature was fresh and dripping. After dinner, we visited Mrs. Celia Thaxter’s fascinating parlor; then took the boat for Portsmouth. ”

“ A hot drive in the afternoon, with a call in Maplewood on our way to Boston, finished up the day begun so cool at Swampscott.
It was too warm to linger in a city, and we turned towards home, making several calls on the way. We did not follow the old turnpike, but digressed; and found a new place for the last night of our journey. We found old friends in the new place, however; one, a prominent preacher, was in a hammock under an apple tree, with a ponderous book—his definition of Nirvana quite likely. ”

“ Does it seem strange to you, to go off for a three weeks’ trip without the slightest idea whether you are bound for mountain or sea shore? Well, our experience is that the best journeys make themselves, as the best books write themselves, for they accomplish what we should never think to plan.
Once more we spread our maps, as we have done so many times, just to find a place for the next night. We pinned Maine on to New Hampshire and Massachusetts, and how big it looked! Surely if we once got into Maine we could roam at will, with no fear of being lost over the borders. ”

“ Chocorua in its lofty loneliness is all-absorbing. We had an ideal mid-day camp on the shores of the beautiful Chocorua lake at the base of the mountain.
After two hours of concentrated admiration of the rocky peak, what wonder we were hypnotized, and that on leaving the lake with one mind we confidently took the turn that would have led us to the summit in time! Having driven a distance which we knew should have brought us to the next village, we began to suspect something was wrong. There was nothing to do but to go on, for there was not a turn to right or left, and not a house in sight. ”

“ The Notch has its Old Man, its Flume and Cascades, and our exclamations burst forth at every turn. Such mosses, such high, ragged bluffs, such babbling brooks, and all so fresh after the rain! Was ever anything so beautiful? Suddenly we found ourselves in open space again, and driving along the Clear Stream meadows, we passed the little enclosure where are the graves of the first two inhabitants of this lonely region. Six or eight miles more brought us to Errol Dam, where we left Charlie in good care, while we took a five hours’ trip on a tiny mail steamer. ”

“ We always feel as if we had got home and our journey was ended, when we get to Weirs. As usual, many familiar faces greeted us, and it was particularly pleasant, for until we got there we had not seen a face we knew since the day after we left home. Even our minister was there to preach to us, as if we were stray sheep and had been sent for. Lake Winnipiseogee was never more beautiful, but looked upon with sadness because of the bright young man who had given his life to it, and whose body it refused to give up. ”

“ We seemed to be above the heat and dust, and had one of the most charming drives of our whole journey. We are so familiar with the road that we did not mind prolonging our drive into the evening, with a full moon to illumine our way. The seven miles from Sterling to Leominster were so pleasant we made them last as long as possible. ”

“ The shore scenery was simply exquisite. Miles of hills—mountains we should call them—with cultivated grain fields even to the summit. Surely we had never seen anything more lovely. The roads were not like the post road on the Hudson; indeed, they were the worst roads we ever encountered. Annual overflows undo the repairs which are rarely made, and in many places the highway is simply the bed which the creek has deserted. At home we improve roads by clearing the stones from them, but there they improve them by dumping a cartload of stones into them. ”

“ Our little friend brought us milk and fruit, and after our lunch we wrote for an hour, then resumed our driving, in blissful ignorance of the fact that the worst hills were yet before us. We met men leading their horses, which encouraged us to feel that our precaution was not feminine timidity. The last hill reminded us of our drive over Hoosac Mountain. We left Newport at 10 A. M., and at 6 P. M. we arrived at the Camperdown House in Georgeville, a quaint Canadian village, feeling as if we had driven or walked one hundred miles, rather than twenty. ”

“ Cedar Lodge, the Barrows’ camp, crowns a beautiful wooded slope above the lake, a steep climb by a winding path bringing one to the log cabin, with its broad piazza facing the sunset and overlooking the lake, through misty tree tops which still wear the tender freshness of hymeneal June. At either end of this ample balcony the guests were seated at four o’clock of that perfect Wednesday, leaving space in the center for the bridal party, of which there was as yet no visible sign. ”