son had entirely omitted in his Seasons, this fine part of autumnal imagery. Upon inquiring of an English gentleman the probable cause of this omission, he informed me that no such scenery existed in Great Britain.*

All

In this country it is often among the most splendid beauties of nature. the leaves of trees which are not evergreens, are by the first severe frost changed from their verdure towards the perfection of that color which they are capable of ultimately assuming, through yellow, orange and red to a pretty deep brown. As the frost affects different trees, and the different leaves of the same tree in very different degrees, a vast multitude of tinctures are commonly found on those of a single tree, and always on those of a grove or forest. These colors also in all their varieties are generally full, and in many instances are among the most exquisite which are found in the regions of nature. Different sorts of trees are susceptible of different degrees of this beauty.

Among them the maple is pre-eminently distinguished by the prodigious variety, the finished beauty, and the intense lustre of its hues, varying through all the dyes, between a rich green and the most perfect crimson, or more definitely, the red of the prismatic image. There is however a sensible difference in the beauty of this appearance of nature in different parts of the country, even where the forest trees are the same. I have seen no tract, where its splendor was so highly finished, as in the region which surrounds the little town of Lancaster for a distance of 30 miles. The colors are more varied and more intense, and the numerous evergreens furnish in their deep hues, the best groundwork of the picture.

I have remarked that the annual foliage on these mountains had been already changed by the frost. Of course the darkness of the evergreens was finely illumined by the brilliant yellow of the birch, the beech and the cherry, and the more brilliant orange and crimson of the maple. The effect of this universal diffusion of gay and splendid light, was to render the preponderating deep green more solemn. The mind encircled by this scenery, irresistibly remembered that the light was the light of decay, autumnal and melancholy. The dark, was the gloom of evening, approximating to night. Over the whole, the azure of the sky cast a deep misty blue, blending towards the summits every other hue, and predominating over all.

As the eye ascended these steeps, the light decayed, and gradually ceased. On the inferior summits rose crowns of conical firs and spruces. On the superior eminences, the trees growing less and less, yielded to the chilling atmosphere, and marked the limit of forest vegetation. Above, the surface was covered with a mass of shrubs terminating at a still higher elevation in a shroud of dark-colored moss. As we passed onward through this singular valley, occasional torrents formed by the rains, and dissolving snows at the close of winter, had left behind them in many places, perpetual monuments of their progress, in perpendicular, narrow and irregular paths of immense length, where they had washed the precipices naked and white from the summit of the mountain to the base.

Wide and deep chasms also at times met the eye, both on the summits and the sides, and strongly impressed the imagination with the thought that a hand of immeasurable power had rent asunder the solid rocks, and tumbled them into the subjacent valley. Over all, hoary cliffs, rising with proud supremacy, frowned awfully on the world below, and finished the landscape. By our side, the Saco was alternately visible and lost, and increased almost at every step by the junction of tributary streams. Its course was a perpetu

* All these various changes are noticeable in the forests of Great Britain, particularly in Scotland, though in a far inferior degree. The hues of the changing woods are less brilliant, and the contrasts less striking.

a cascade, and, with its sprightly murmurs, furnished the only contrast to the majestic scenery around us.'

The Notch of the White Mountains will long be remembered for the tragical fate of a whole family, who were swept away by a slide, or avalanche of earth from the side of the mountain, on the night of the 28th of August, 1826. This family by the name of Willey, occupied what was called the Notch House, in a very narrow interval between the bases of the two mountains. No knowledge of any accident from the mountain in former times, existed to create any apprehension of danger in their situation. Their dwelling stood alone, many miles from the residence of any human being, and there was an aspect of rural neatness, simplicity and content, in their manners and life, that strongly interested the traveller whom chance or curiosity led into their neighborhood. For two seasons previous, the mountains had been very dry, and on the 28th of June there was a slide not far from the house, which so far alarmed them, that they erected a temporary encampment a short distance from their dwelling, as a place of refuge.

On the morning of August 28th it began raining very hard with a strong and tempestuous wind. The storm continued through that day and night, but appears the family retired to rest without the least apprehension of any disaster. Among them were five beautiful children, from two to twelve years of age. At midnight, the clouds which had gathered about the mountain, seemed to burst instantaneously, and pour their contents down in one tremendous flood of rain. The soil which had been previously soaked through, was suddenly loosened by the flood, and the trees pushed and wrung by fierce winds, acted as levers in breaking up the earth. The avalanche, began upon the mountain top immediately above the house, and moved down the mountain in a direct line toward it, in a sweeping torrent which seemed like a river pouring from the clouds, full of trees, earth and rocks.

On reaching the house it divided in a singular manner within six feet of it, and passed on either side, sweeping away the stable and horses, and completely surrounding the dwelling. The night was dark and frightfully tempestuous. The family, it appears, sprang from their beds, and fled naked into the open air, where they were instantly carried away by the torrent and over whelmed. The slide took everything with it, forest, earth and stones down to the solid rock of the mountain.

In the morning, a most frightful scene of desolation was exhibited. All the bridges over the streams were gone. The road was torn away to the depth of 15 or 20 feet, or covered with immense heaps of earth, rocks and

trees.

In the Notch, and along the deep defile below it for a mile and a half, the steep sides of the mountain had slidden down into this narrow passage, and formed a complete mass of fragments. The barn was crushed, and under its ruins were two dead horses, but the house was uninjured. The beds appeared to have been just quitted; their coverings were turned down, and the clothes of the several members of the family lay upon the chairs and floor. The little green in front of the house was undisturbed, and a flock of sheep remained there in quiet, though the torrent forming a curve on both sides, had swept completely round them, and united below, covering the meadows and orchard with ruins. The bodies of seven of the family were dug out of the drift wood and mountain ruins, on the banks of the Saco.

An ancient tradition prevailed among the savages of this region, that a deluge once drowned the whole country, and destroyed every human being, except a single powaw and his wife, who saved themselves on the top of these mountains, and preserved their race from extermination. From this occurrence the Indians regarded the mountains as the habitation of superior beings,

who manifested their power by the furious tempests which often occurred there. Under the influence of this superstitious awe, they never dared to ascend the highest peaks, holding the attempt sacrilegious; but in wandering over the rugged sides and among the savage defiles of this mysterious region, they imagined they beheld supernatural sights; and many extravagant tales to this effect were current among them. They fancied also that they saw carbuncles at an immense height among the peaks, which, in the darkness of the night, shone with the most dazzling brilliancy. These mountains were visited as early as 1632, by Neal, Jocelyn, and Field, who gave romantic accounts of their adventures, and of the extent and grandeur of the mountains, which they called the Crystal Hills.

3. VALLEYS. The valley of the Connecticut will be hereafter described: the only one beside, necessary to mention, is the valley of the Merrimack, which consists of sandy plains, covered with pine and black timber. It is narrower than the Connecticut valley, and is often contracted to the shores of the stream by rocky hills.

4. RIVERS. Connecticut River, the largest and the finest stream in New England, has its origin in this state, and washes almost the whole extent of its western border. It rises in the highlands which form the N. boundary of the state, and runs about 170 miles S., when it enters Massachusetts, through which state and Connecticut it flows to the sea, its whole course being 410 miles. For a description of its course through these states the reader is referred to Connecticut and Massachusetts. The breadth of this river in the N. part of N. Hampshire is about 150 feet. In the course of 60 miles it increases to 390; the depth of the channel below the head of boat navigation varies from 5 to 12 feet. Many falls and rapids occur in this part of the river. The interval lands are generally upon one or both sides of this stream, nearly on a level with its banks, extending from half a mile to 5 miles in breadth; but the borders of the river are in some places high, rocky and precipitous. In the spring, the Connecticut overflows its banks and fertilizes a vast tract of rich meadows. Many small tributaries are received by this river from N. Hampshire, and 16 bridges cross it in that state.

The Merrimack rises in N. Hampshire, and has two principal branches; one of them being the outlet of Lake Winnipiseogee. The N. or longer branch is called the Pemigewasset, and has its source near the Notch of the White Mountains. At its junction with the outlet of the lake, this stream takes the name of Merrimack, and flows S. 78 miles to Chelmsford, where it enters Massachusetts, through which it runs E. to the sea. Its whole course is about 200 miles, There are numerous falls in the N. Hampshire portion. The Merrimack rises on nearly the same level with the Connecticut, but reaches the sea in running half the extent of the latter, and consequently has double the declivity of the Connecticut in a given space; its current is therefore more rapid, and the interval borders are less extensive.

Though not equal to the Connecticut for fine scenery, the Merrimack is a noble and beautiful stream; its waters are pure and salubrious, and on its borders are situated some of the most flourishing towns in N. Hampshire. Its name, in the Indian language, signified a sturgeon. Its width varies from 50 to 120 rods, and it is crossed by 8 bridges in this state; it receives many minor streams, and the rivers which form the outlets of several small lakes. Its obstructions have been partly remedied by locks at different places, and there is a boat navigation of about 40 miles in this state, extending to Concord. The branches of the Merrimack on the E. are the Squam and Suncook : on the W. the Contoocook and Baker's.

The Piscataqua is the only considerable river whose whole course lies in N. Hampshire. It is formed by the junction of several small streams in a

wide and deep bed; the longest of these streams is Salmon Fall River, which forms a part of the boundary between this state and Maine. The others are the Cocheco, Bellamy Bank, Oyster, Lamprey, Swampscot and Winnicut; the last 5 of which, unite their waters in a large bay between Durham and Greenland. The waters of this bay meet those of the Salmon Fall and Cocheco, a few miles below Dover, and flow S. E. to the sea at Portsmouth.

5. LAKES AND PONDS. The largest lake is the Winnipiseogee or Wentworth, nearly in the centre of the state: it is about 23 miles long from S. E. to N. W. and 10 wide in the broadest part. Its form is very irregular; it is surrounded by mountains and hills, and sprinkled with a multitude of beautiful islands, which are supposed to be 365 in number. This lake affords the most enchanting views, and is no way inferior in beauty to Lake George. Dr Dwight thus describes it as seen from the summit of Red Mountain. 'Immediately at the foot of the height on which we stood, and in the bottom of the immense valley below, spread southeasterly the waters of the Winnipiseogee in complete view, except that one or two of its arms were partially concealed by intervening peninsulas. A finer object of the same nature was perhaps never seen. The lakes which I had visited in my northern and western excursions were all of them undivided masses, bordered by shores comparatively straight. This was, centrally, a vast column, if I may be allowed the term, 23 miles in length, and from 6 to 8 in breadth, shooting out with inimitable beauty a succession of arms, some of them not inferior in length to the whole breadth of the lake. These were fashioned with every elegance of figure, bordered with the most beautiful winding shores, and studded with a multitude of islands. Their relative positions, also, could scarcely be more happy. Many of the islands are large, exquisitely fashioned and arranged in a manner not less singular than pleasing. As they met the eye, when surveyed from the summit, they were set in groups on both sides of the great channel, and left this vast field of water unoccupied between them.

Their length was universally at right angles to that of the lake, and they appeared as if several chains of hills, originally crossing the country in that direction, had by some convulsion, been merged in the water, so low that no part of them was left visible except the oblong segments of their summits. Of those which, by their size and situation, were most conspicuous, I counted 45, without attempting to enumerate the smaller ones, or such as were obscured. The points which intrude into this lake are widely different from those of Lake George; bold, masculine bluffs, infringing directly upon the water; these in several instances, were spacious peninsulas, fitted to become rich and delightful residences of man, often elevated into handsome hills, and sloping gracefully into the lake.'

This lake is 472 feet above the level of the sea: it receives the water of several small streams, but is supplied chiefly by subjacent springs. Its depth in many parts has not yet been fathomed: it abounds in excellent fish, and its waters are pure and salubrious. Many of the islands contain large farms, and one of them is 500 acres in extent. The outlet passes from the S. W. arm of the lake, into the Merrimack.

Squam Lake, a little to the N. W. of the above, is a splendid sheet of water, indented by points, arched with coves, and studded with a succession of romantic islands. It abounds with the finest trout, and is 6 miles in length and three in breadth. The largest island is about one mile long and one third of a mile wide. This lake communicates with the Merrimack; it is surrounded by high lands, among which is Squam Mountain, on the N. W. Sunapee lake, S. W. from Winnipiseogee is 9 miles long and 1 broad: its waters pass into the Connecticut. Ossipee lake is a beautiful sheet of water without any islands; it covers about 7000 acres, and passes into the Saco.

6. ISLANDS. The Isles of Shoals belong partly to N.Hampshire and partly to Maine. They lie about 8 miles out at sea, between Portsmouth and Newburyport, and are hardly more than a cluster of rocks rising above the water; yet they are on many accounts worthy of notice. They have but a thin soil and barren appearance, yet for more than a century previous to the revolution, they were quite populous, containing at one time 600 inhabitants, who found there an advantageous situation for carrying on fisheries. To this day, the best cod in the world are those which are known in market under the name of Isle of Shoals dun fish. From 3 to 4,000 quintals were once annually caught and cured here, but the business has latterly declined. These islands were discovered by the celebrated Captain Smith, in 1614, and called at first Smith's Isles. The N. Hampshire portion now constitutes the town of Gosport. In all of them are chasms in the rocks apparently caused by earthquakes. There is a remarkable chasm on Star Island, where one of the female inhabitants secreted herself when the islands were invaded, and the people carried into captivity by the Indians. The largest is named Hog Island, and contains 350 acres: Star Island has 150, Hayley's 100; they are in all 7. The inhabitants are about 100; they live solely by fishing, and in connexion with those of the shore in their immediate neighborhood, who follow the same mode of life, are the most rude and uncivilized beings in New England, except the Indians. They supply the markets of Newburyport with fish, and have long been known there by the appellation of Algerines. Efforts have recently been made to improve their social condition, and they have now a meeting house, school, &c.

7. COAST. The whole extent of the coast of N. Hampshire is but 18 miles, and the shore is in most places a sandy beach, bordered by salt marshes. The only harbor is that of Portsmouth, although there are several coves for fishing craft.

8. CLIMATE. The winter is less severe than in Maine; the deepest snows fall with a N. E. wind, and the storms from that quarter are the longest and most violent, a circumstance common to all the New England states; spots of snow are seen on the S. sides of mountains, as late as May, and on the highest till July. On the most elevated summits, the violence of the wind drives the snow into the long and deep gullies of the mountains, where it consolidates into hard masses, and lies till very late in the season.

Morning and evening fires become necessary about the beginning of September. Cattle are housed in the beginning of November, and in the course of this month, the earth and rivers are generally frozen and covered with snow. The open country is usually clear of snow in April, but in the woods and northern parts, it often lies till May.

The spring is wet and foggy, but the summer is beautiful, and the progress of vegetation very rapid; the number of fair days throughout the year, compared to the cloudy, are three to one. N. Hampshire is a healthy state, and epidemics have seldom prevailed in it. The most remarkable were the cynanche maligna, or putrid sore throat, which made its first appearance at Kingston in May, 1735, and the petechial, or spotted fever which prevailed in different places in 1811, and still later. Within a century, there have been known 83 persons, who lived from 100 to 120 years.

9. SOIL. The best lands in N. Hampshire are on the borders of the large rivers, where, being occasionally covered by the waters, they are fertilized by the rich sediment which these deposit. The hilly land has a moist and warm soil, affords fine pasturage, and supports immense numbers of cattle and sheep. Where the land lies in large round swells, the tops and sides of these heights have a fertile soil, while the land in the valleys between is generally cold and poor. Where a considerable river runs through a valley, the land