ing for the curious appearance of this desolated forest. Our guide informed us that the trees had been burned-the woods there having been fired by lightning, many years since-and that the bark being thus crisped, the subsequent cold winters and storms had beaten off the outer coating of the bolls and branches, and they had subsequently bleached out to this deathly whiteness, by slow degrees. The more reasonable and philosophical cause is found, how ever, in the statement that, during the years 1816 and '17, the thermometer scarcely rose, in that immediate region, above the freezing point; and these trees having put forth no foliage during that entire season, it is believed that they remained congealed in the sap during a period of sixteen months; and were thus destroyed, and afterwards blanched by time and storm.

The traveler stands with a shudder upon the verge of the deep precipice which flanks this frightful and dreary

VOL. X.-2

mit,' and 'Tip - top.' Better going, by-an'by-hurry up, hurry up!" and you turn the bluff once more, still ascending, more rapidly than before.

From this point, the bridle-path is narrowed to a mere line, formed over the continuously rocky way by the hoofs of the horses, and is but a single stretch

of

(without variation in character) loose stones, and small boulders irregularly thrown together, upon which the donkey treads with increased caution, picking his way up and onward, with the most commendable moderation and care-planting first one foot and then another, as he goes, and skillfully calculating the chances of the trip or misstep that might tumble himself and his usually nervous rider headlong over some ugly precipice on his right or left, as he advances thus sluggishly along, panting, and puffing, and toiling upward to the summit halting-place, which he remembers so well.

For the hundredth time you ask the guide if that mound or that cliff beyond you is the last? You have been in the saddle four or five hours, laboring continually up hill; and, though you can admire the magnificent scenery that you are permitted to behold, yet your appetite has been strangely sharpened (at least, such Mr. Greene declared to be his "innermost sensations"), and you are right well inclined to test the quality of the viands prepared for and awaiting your arrival at the Summit and Tip-top

Houses. Within forty rods of the doors of these hospitable buildings, erected at the very peak of Mount Washington. there stands a rude pile of rocks, some eight or nine feet high, which arrests your attention, and which is thrown up by the hand of friendship to mark the scene of a painful occurrence which took place in the fall of 1855, upon that spot.

Miss Lizzie Bourne, of Kennebunk, Me., in company with a small party of her immediate friends, started from the Glen House, at a late hour one day during the month of September, in the expectation of reaching the "Summit" before dark, where they intended to tarry till the following day.

They passed the "shanties," and Mr. Myer's cottage (below the ledge), in excellent spirits, but Mr. M., who had long been a resident of the mountains, deemed it too late for them to reach the summit. They hastened on, however, and a sudden storm came up, which increased as they continued to ascend; and they finally found themselves bewildered with the sleet and snow, entirely at a loss to determine which way they should turn. Night succeeded, the dreary darkness enveloped everything around themand still, under the guardian ship of the gentleman of the party, they struggled on, and upward. Wearied out, at length, and absolutely lost in the blackness of the night and the storm, they were compelled to halt, and shelter themselves as best they might-under the terrible circumstances-beneath the comparatively friendly lee of a large boulder they discovered.

The physical strength of Miss Bourne, evidently, was not equal to the task of ascending Mount Washington on foot, at all, her health being fragile previous to this effort. They crouched beyond the rock, however, as far out of the reach of the wind as it was possible to retreat; and there they remained, amid the howling and raging of that fearful storm, during the entire

night, the unfortunate young girl reclining upon her protector's knee. When daylight broke, the party discovered themselves within forty rods of the Summit House-but Miss Bourne had perished during the darkness! They had ascended without a guide; and the sufferings of that little company can scarcely be imagined, as they clung together during the weary hours of that long and fearful night. One of them died on that spot, and the health of the others was seriously periled. This monument has been thrown up to mark this shocking incident in the history of the mountains.

You turn away, with a sigh for " poor Lizzie Bourne," and the voice of your guide cheers you with the shout of "'ere we are, gentlemen!" The summit is reached, at last.

A world of magic-like beauty lies around you; you behold a myriad hues that you have never dreamed of before; you see a widely-stretching field of gorgeous landscape which pen or pencil never has and never can de

pict, a wonderful blending of curious light and shadow that artist never conceived, and cannot portray. You realize more in a single instant of sunshine, upon the crest of old Washington, than you can feel or imagine in a lifetime of study of all the "masters" in Christendom. Drink in the glorious inspiration that floats around and beneath you, and make haste to enjoy the rich voluptuousness of this once-seen-andnever-to-be-forgotten pantoscope-for a veil is passing over its outskirts; and even while you gaze, the cloud approaches again, the magnificent picture is shut from the view, and you find yourself enveloped, haply, in mist, or sleet, or rain!

This is but temporary, however. The order is given to mount, for the descent, and you are soon threading your way down the bridle-path, en route to the Glen House once more. Before leaving, you take a look at the little "squatty" Summit House, where you have so comfortably dined, and which will not be forgotten by you. It was built by

to and fro, being but indifferent riders, or totally unpracticed in the saddle. Yet these animals manage their uncertain loads with great show of care, and but very few accidents occur, notwithstanding the difficulties of the journey both up and down this tortuous acclivity.

My friend, Mr. Greene, was particularly struck with the beauty of the Crystal Falls, and leaped about, upon the rocks below them, with a precision and celerity that would have electrified a chamois, to the infinite gratification of the ladies, who freely admitted that Mr. Greene was a vast deal more agile and juvenile than they had hitherto given him credit for. Indeed, we found it impossible to control his activeness at all, though suggestions were repeatedly thrown out to him, both by his companions and the guide, in reference to the deceitfulness of his foothold upon the rocks, which, in many places, were covered with a mossy slime, upon which it was unsafe to step, without great

caution.

He mounted the side of the very precipice itself, and stood upon the level of the upper rocks, whence the waters came tumbling down, where he waved his hat to us more timid gazers-up below him, in very triumph at the achievement. Then he descended the rocks again, declining the proffered assistance of the guide, with his

"Pooh, pooh! my dear sir-no! Haven't I been round a bit in my time?"

"But you might fall," persisted the guide, politely-" and I wouldn't like to see you in the drink, you know."

"Never mind me, sir. I know," said Mr. Greene, with a pirouette that would have shamed Papanti himself; and, missing his good intentions, Mr. Greene, without another syllable, popped head foremost into a bend of the pool, to

the great alarm of his friends, and the subdued but evident amusement of the anxious and really attentive guide!

We sprang to the rescue of Greene amid the frantic shrieks of the ladies, who were desperately alarmed for his safety. But Greene was born not to be drowned, plainly; for he rolled over like a huge porpoise, and was drawn from the pool by the skirts of his coat, without any detriment whatever, except the inconvenience of the involuntary cold-bath. As the guide jerked him rather unceremoniously ashore, he repeatedly remarked, "I told you so, sir-I told you so." To which assurances the ungrateful Mr. G., as he blew the water from his mouth and nostrils, only responded, "A pretty guide, you! What the devil did you push me in there, for ?"

"I? Push you in ?" exclaimed the guide, astounded.

"Yes, sir-yes! Push me in, and get a fee for helping me out. I see, sir. It won't do-won't do with me, sir. I've traveled too much for that. Don't try it again, sir-I won't give you a penny--not a red, sir!"

Heartily as we sympathized with Mr. Greene in his little misfortune, we were compelled to laugh outright at this ludicrous misconstruction on his part, and the turn he thus gave to the accident. And in the midst of our rejoicings that it was no worse, and the jokes which his misstep unavoidably occasioned, we started briskly on through

the woods again towards the road, where our carriage awaited us.

Over the stream which crosses the road, and which comes down from the

cascade described, is placed a logbridge. At this point you enter the wood, on the right. This is another pretty spot, overarched by high trees, whose foliage shadows the cool water that passes noiselessly away at this point, and flows on through the forest and the valley to the southeastward. In the early springtime, this stream is alive with trout, and excellent sport may be had by "dropping a line" in the numerous pools along its banks.

Numerous and fanciful are the old

legends connected with these hills; and one of the superstitious Indian traditions relating to the origin of the White Mountains is not uninteresting.

It is related that "the cold stormking was abroad in the great northern wilderness, and a lonely hunter-chief