Probably, Of All Modes Of Life That Are
Allotted To Man By His Creator, Life Such As This Is The Most
Happy.
One hint, however, for improvement, I must give even to
Portland:
It would be well if they could make their streets of some
material harder than sand.
I must not leave the town without desiring those who may visit it
to mount the observatory. They will from thence get the best view
of the harbor and of the surrounding land; and, if they chance to
do so under the reign of the present keeper of the signals, they
will find a man there able and willing to tell them everything
needful about the State of Maine in general and the harbor in
particular. He will come out in his shirt sleeves, and, like a
true American, will not at first be very smooth in his courtesy;
but he will wax brighter in conversation, and, if not stroked the
wrong way, will turn out to be an uncommonly pleasant fellow. Such
I believe to be the case with most of them.
From Portland we made our way up to the White Mountains, which lay
on our route to Canada. Now, I would ask any of my readers who are
candid enough to expose their own ignorance whether they ever
heard, or at any rate whether they know anything, of the White
Mountains? As regards myself, I confess that the name had reached
my ears; that I had an indefinite idea that they formed an
intermediate stage between the Rocky Mountains and the Alleghanies;
and that they were inhabited either by Mormons, Indians, or simply
by black bears. That there was a district in New England
containing mountain scenery superior to much that is yearly crowded
by tourists in Europe, that this is to be reached with ease by
railways and stagecoaches, and that it is dotted with huge hotels
almost as thickly as they lie in Switzerland, I had no idea. Much
of this scenery, I say, is superior to the famed and classic lands
of Europe. I know nothing, for instance, on the Rhine equal to the
view from Mount Willard down the mountain pass called the Notch.
Let the visitor of these regions be as late in the year as he can,
taking care that he is not so late as to find the hotels closed.
October, no doubt, is the most beautiful month among these
mountains; but, according to the present arrangement of matters
here, the hotels are shut up by the end of September. With us,
August, September, and October are the holiday months; whereas our
rebel children across the Atlantic love to disport themselves in
July and August. The great beauty of the autumn, or fall, is in
the brilliant hues which are then taken by the foliage. The
autumnal tints are fine with us. They are lovely and bright
wherever foliage and vegetation form a part of the beauty of
scenery. But in no other land do they approach the brilliancy of
the fall in America. The bright rose color, the rich bronze which
is almost purple in its richness, and the glorious golden yellows
must be seen to be understood. By me, at any rate, they cannot be
described. They begin to show themselves in September; and perhaps
I might name the latter half of that month as the best time for
visiting the White Mountains.
I am not going to write a guide book, feeling sure that Mr. Murray
will do New England and Canada, including Niagara, and the Hudson
River, with a peep into Boston and New York, before many more
seasons have passed by. But I cannot forbear to tell my countrymen
that any enterprising individual, with a hundred pounds to spend on
his holiday - a hundred and twenty would make him more comfortable
in regard to wine, washing, and other luxuries - and an absence of
two months from his labors, may see as much and do as much here for
the money as he can see or do elsewhere. In some respects he may
do more; for he will learn more of American nature in such a
journey than he can ever learn of the nature of Frenchmen or
Americans by such an excursion among them. Some three weeks of the
time, or perhaps a day or two over, he must be at sea, and that
portion of his trip will cost him fifty pounds, presuming that he
chooses to go in the most comfortable and costly way; but his time
on board ship will not be lost. He will learn to know much of
Americans there, and will perhaps form acquaintances of which he
will not altogether lose sight for many a year. He will land at
Boston, and, staying a day or two there, will visit Cambridge,
Lowell, and Bunker Hill, and, if he be that way given, will
remember that here live, and occasionally are to be seen alive, men
such as Longfellow, Emerson, Hawthorne, and a host of others, whose
names and fames have made Boston the throne of Western literature.
He will then, if he take my advice and follow my track, go by
Portland up into the White Mountains. At Gorham, a station on the
Grand Trunk Line, he will find a hotel as good as any of its kind,
and from thence he will take a light wagon, so called in these
countries. And here let me presume that the traveler is not alone:
he has his wife or friend, or perhaps a pair of sisters, and in his
wagon he will go up through primeval forests to the Glen House.
When there, he will ascend Mount Washington on a pony. That is de
rigueur, and I do not therefore dare to recommend him to omit the
ascent. I did not gain much myself by my labor. He will not stay
at the Glen House, but will go on to - Jackson's I think they call
the next hotel, at which he will sleep.
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