Grand balsam fir sprang from the crevices of the rock, family
groups of white birch rose and spread their graceful masses of
foliage on either side of us; mounds of virgin bowers, wild
grape vines, and bittersweet crowned the rocky sides of the
cliffs, spreading from tree to tree or hung from them like
folded curtains; and the sunlight and shadow among pine and
hemlock where grew mosses, ferns and flowers, made vast sheets
of rich mosaic. The hermit and veery thrush sang in the woods
around, tree swallows cut the air above in graceful flight, and
even the lone scout out for a hike, carrying his supplies, had
yielded to his environment and sang such a rapturous strain (to
which a redwing whistled a gurgling accompaniment), we were
reminded of these lines from Roger's "Human Life": "And feeling
hearts, touch them but rightly, pour a thousand melodies unheard
before." He seemed to sing out of very wantonness, and his song
seemed to have that soft undercurrent of melody heard in the
chimes of Belgium - with just a hint of plaintiveness in it to
make the joy and the brightness of the day complete.
No wonder the Indians thought these majestic white mountains the
abodes of their god. Marvelous stories were told about great
shining stones that glittered on the cliffs through the darkness
of the night. Now and then specimens of crystal were shown to
white settlers which they said came from the greatest mountain.
The whites at first called it the "Crystal Hill."
"But," said the Indians to the whites, "nobody can go to the top
of Agiochook, to get these glittering stones, because it is the
abode of the great god of storms, famine and pestilence. Once,
indeed, some foolish Indians had attempted to do so, but they
never came back, for the spirit that guarded the gems from
mortal hands had raised great mists, through which the hunters
wandered on like blind men until the spirit led them to the edge
of some dreadful gulf, into which he cast them, shrieking."
These mountains were not discovered until 7642, when a bold
settler by the name of Darby Field determined to search for the
precious stones. It must have been wonderful, this trip through
these beautiful hills in June. He came to the neighborhood of
the present town of Fryeburg, where the Indian village of the
Pigwackets was then located.
With the aid of some Indian guides he was led to within a few
miles of the summit when, for fear of the evil spirit, all
except two refused to go farther. On he went with these two
guides clambering over rocks, crossing rocky mountain torrents,
until he came to a stony plain where were located two ponds.
Above this plain rose the great peak that overlooks all this
wonderful New England region.
