By Muriel Bristol | April 6, 2025
There was published in the Dover Enquirer a July 1854 description of a White Mountains trip, presumably taken just before, i.e., in June or July of 1854, by eight Rochester tourists (three men and five women).
Apart from its intrinsic interest, the initial part of this travelogue contains an interesting detail regarding the “pleasant village” of Milton. The path of the PGF&C railroad line had been completed through Hayes Station in South Milton. The traveling tourists observed a prepared and graded roadbed running through to Milton, but its iron rails had not yet been laid.
The tourists started from Rochester and passed through Milton, Wakefield, Ossipee, Eaton, Conway, (with a side trip to Albany,) and then Bartlett, on to Crawford Notch (and up Mt. Washington), [Franconia,] Bethlehem, Woodstock, Thornton, Campton, Plymouth, Holderness, Meredith, Alton, [New Durham,] and back to Rochester.
A Trip to the White Mountains. Our party, consisting of eight persons, started from R. [Rochester] about 4 o’clock A.M.; the morning was beautiful and while a few straggling clouds were hanging lazily around the horizon the sun was already, making his way in the east, changing their appearance to a pearly white or dispelling them altogether from view, Ours was a jovial crew, and we wended our way swiftly along, leaving behind the low lands upon which the village is situated while the air grew warmer and we were met by a breeze from the north west, which gradually became cooler, and we soon passed the pleasant village of Milton, the business of which is soon to be increased by laying down the iron upon the already graded track of the Great Falls and Conway railroad.
Here are situated the beautiful sheets of water known as the “Three Ponds,” much resorted to by the disciples of old Isaak Walton; they lay nearly parallel with the main road and on leaving them we ascended the high lands where the eye was met by a carpet of green in forest and field; nature was arrayed in all her loveliness which chased away dull care and provided a speedy antidote for the ills engendered by months of confinement. Halting a few minutes by the side of a running stream we slaked our own, and the thirst of the horses with nature’s cooling beverage, resumed our journey, passed Union village in Wakefield, stopped at old “Hall Gilman’s” to tell him his cows were in the field, and passing beneath the stately pines that crowd closely upon the road and throw their shadows completely across it, we stopped, twenty miles from home, at Wakefield corner, at the Inn of Mrs. [Elizabeth B. (Wiswall)] Wiggin until the sun had spent his fiercest rays, when we again started for the regions of the North West, among the numerous hills, valleys, and what was t0 us more interesting, the trout streams of old Ossipee, from whose well stored beds, we filled our firkin, and paused a while at Centre Ossipee, which appears to be a business place, and among its best citizens is Mr. [Levi] Perkins of the Temperance Hotel. Still further on we pass the shore of Ossipee Lake, a fine sheet of water rendered almost classic by being the scene of so many Indian legends, And upon its western bank is still to be seen one of the largest mounds in New England, beneath which repose the bones of the red man, the last sad vestige that remains to remind us of his departed glory, and of the time when he held undisputed sway of forest and lake. And while the same sky was over head, the same Lake before our eyes, the red man with birchen canoe and bow and arrows, have passed away: his hunting grounds have become the abodes of of civilization and where his shrill war whoop was heard, and his revengeful eye flashed fire, the ear is greeted by the lowing of herds and the joyful sound of the horn of peace and plenty.
We stopped for the night at the West Ossipee Hotel, kept by Mr. [Asa] Ames, where we were well accommodated and furnished with music through the night, with or without our consent, by a band of mosquitoes, “too numerous to mention.” Taking an early start and traveling six miles we came to the village of Eaton, the most notable thing of which is its ancient dilapidated Church, which appears to have belonged to a generation gone by. Seven miles further on we entered the fine village of Conway, the Indian Pequawket, and stopped at the Conway House, one of the finest Hotels in the country, kept by the mountain renowned [Horace] Fabyan. This is a great thoroughfare for mountain travel and Fabyan is just the man to accommodate you over night and direct you to the mountains in the morning; and it appears to be his object to keep a better house than any other man. In the afternoon the whole party concluded to go to Albany to fish in Swift River, which is well stored with trout, but they did not appear to be in a biting mood. We found, however, a bundle of New Hampshire Patriots Extra, which had withstood the storms of Winter and Summer, headed “John Atwood Letters,” “Read, Ponder and Decide.” They did not appear to have been read, and had doubtless been lost on their way to enlighten the democracy of Carroll County, and to warn them of the machinations and short comings of the aforesaid John. We found accommodations at the private house of Mr. Chase for the night, and started the next morning for the foot of Kiarsage [Kearsarge] mountain, having a thunder shower by the way, which among the mountains is more terrible than in the open country; the lightning is more vivid, and
“From crag to crag leap’d the live thunder.”
This cooled earth and air, and we left our horses and started for the summit of the mountain, three thousand feet high. Of five ladies in our company three considered “discretion the better part of valor” and concluded to ride to the summit, while the other two determined to walk. The path is rough but not impracticable and we all arrived at the Summit House (kept also by Fabyan) about the same time in high glee where we met the cool winds that swept down over the snow dotted mountains of the farther north west; and obtained a view of the surrounding country that is equaled by that from few places in New Hampshire. After partaking of a good dinner we commenced the descent which we accomplished with much less fatigue than the ascent, and rode ten miles in the evening to Bartlett, where we stayed for the night; and the next morning travelled over a picturesque road fourteen miles to the Mt. Crawford House, kept [by] N.T.P. [Nathaniel P.T.] Davis, Esq.
This was the house of the venerable Abel Crawford, the man, who volunteered the services of the best years of his life in laying out roads around and up these mountains, in bringing their attractive wilds, deep ravines and lofty summits to be visited by the curious and pleasure seeking world; it was he who first made a bridle path upon the top of Mt. Washington, and rode a horse there when more than seventy years of age. He lived for some time nearly alone among the mountains, and was possessed of moral and physical strength, by which he endured hardships and privations from which others would shrunk in despair. But after living to a good old age he is gathered to his fathers, and beneath trees of his own planting and nursing, a few rods from the house in a quiet unobtrusive grave sleep his mortal remains, fit resting place for him who loved with such a love his sweet mountain home; while above, the carol of the birds, and below the dashing of the mountain stream sound the requiem of his departed worth.
Of the kind attention of Mr. Davis and his family I need not speak, for all that pass that way or have the pleasure of their acquaintance bear testimony to the urbanity of their manners and the quiet homelike retreat of their house. Passing on six miles farther amid beautiful scenery and lofty mountains, whose peaks stand out like gloomy sentinels to guard the narrow passway, we reach the Willey House situated at the base of lofty mountains in a place so dreary that the mountain bird seems to forget his song and dull monotony of the place is only broken by the humming waters of the puny Saco as it winds its way over the rocks and gravel o the fearful slide of the 26th [28th] of August 1826, which buried in a moment beneath its ruins the interesting family by that name; the old House still stands to tell with silent eloquence the tale “no no voice may speak,” for all, Father, Mother, Brothers, and Sister found a common grave; and none may tell of the hopes, the fears, the sufferings and mortal agony of that night of death. And when we look over the scene of desolation which covers this once beautiful valley the mind instinctively reverts to the sad catastrophe, breaks ups the fountains of the heart and brings to the eyes the makes of an embarrassing weakness. Two miles from this place is the veritable Notch of the White Mountains, and whoever would know ought [aught[ of this must see it in its mystic, thrilling beauty; and in passing up through, may be seen to the right a fine scene of water dashing down the mountain side leaping from cliff to cliff, a hundred feet at a bound, forming a bright silver cascade whose waters hurry on in cold haste, to join the little stream which here takes its rise and forms the Saco. A few rods above is the height of land between the Saco and Connecticut Valleys, upon which is situated the Notch House, built by T.J. Crawford, but kept by J.L. [Joseph L. ] Gibbs. Four miles further on we pass the Giant’s Grave, the ruins of the once noble Mt. Washington House (the old Rosebrook Stand), and stop at the White Mountain House, kept by Campbell & Moore, rather poetical names, but whether they are descendants of the poets of old Scotia and Green Erin I cannot say, but they make vary good landlords. We stopped here but a few minutes and then started for the summit of Mt. Washington, about ten miles distant, and for the present the height of our ambition. About four and one half miles of this distance is a wagon path, over which we rode with Mr. Moore, crossing several times the waters of the Ammonusuck [Ammonoosuc] in their winding course; and now we bid adieu to the driver and guide and with staff in hand commence the long and wearisome road which for the first two miles was a good forest path closely hemmed in by tall trees. – Our party consisted of three gentlemen and three ladies and now began the ascent in good earnest. – Up and still higher, but “excelsior” was our motto, and as we rose higher the forest trees grew shorter and the air which was sultry below grew cooler, until the trees disappeared altogether, and the air increased to a wintry blast, making coats and shawls very desirable, and when about a mile from the summit we beheld such a sunset as none of us had seen before; and as none view but from the top of Mt. Washington or some other lofty eminence. For as he sank in all his majestic grandeur into a bed of blazing clouds, as they lay fold upon fold behind the distant mountains of the west, we had a view of one of nature’s richest scenes. But when the sun was out of sight the clouds grew blacker and gathered more closely about us, until they enveloped us in their mist, while the bitter blasts of wintry wind grew more bitter still, but our course was upward, and about nine o’clock in the evening we reached the tip-top House, where we found a good coal fire very comfortable, the mercury being but a few degrees above freezing point. Here we were well cared for by Messrs. [Joseph S.] Hall and [Samuel F.] Spaulding, who are here for the purpose of assisting those who make the ascent. We partook of a good supper and retired to the “Lodging House” situated a few yards from tip top and drank in a full draught of
“Kind nature’s sweet restorer balmy sleep,”
which had indeed by morning restored us to our wonted activity and fully prepared us for the enjoyment of the rising sun whose rosy tints shot up the eastern skies, driving away the misty clouds of the previous evening and relighting old earth with apparently more evening glory, giving us a view which well repaid us for all our toil. We stayed upon the mountain until nearly noon, viewing the objects of interest both far and near, when we returned by the same path, found Mr. Campbell waiting and rode to the White Mt. House, where we joined our friends left behind, took dinner and drove ten miles over a good road to the town of Bethlehem to stop for the night at the Phoenix Hotel, kept by [Thomas J.] Spooner; as good a place as ever weary, hungry mortals could wish to meet with. In the morning we pursued our course and after riding about fourteen miles enter the Franconia mountains and the first object of interest we meet with is the “Echo Lake, a beautiful sheet of water closely ensconced among lofty hills, where the echo from the report of a pistol comes back like thunder near at hand, while the echo from the sound of the horn dies away in sweet lingering strains as the notes pass from mountain to mountain. A few rods further and we pass the Profile House, one of the largest in the region, situated in a wild gloomy place where the sun shines only about three hours in the shortest days of winter; and a little distance from this is the profile itself, the “Old Man of the Mountain,” whose appearance changes but little though winter’s storm. The same road leads to the “Basin,” where the clear waters of a running stream in dashing over a precipice have worn out a huge soup bowl in the solid rock beneath, which makes it an object of interest.
Still further on, or five miles from the Profile House, is the Flume House, kept by [Richard] Taft, which has many things to induce the traveler to pause; the greatest of which is the world renowned Flume itself, situated about mile from the House, whose perpendicular sides and hanging rock are grand beyond description, and should be seen by all who pass that way. And now, having seen all in the mountains reputed to be worth seeing, we leave them in their picturesque grandeur and unrivalled beauty, and turn our steps homeward, passing through the towns of Woodstock, Thornton, and Campton, arrived at the Old Town of Plymouth and rest for the night at the Pemigewasset House, kept by [Dennison R.] Burnham. In the morning we travel through Holderness to Meredith village and stop for dinner at the Railroad House, kept by James Hussey, formerly of Great falls, from thence to Alton Bay round the Lake and over hills. The Bay has but little to boast of except being the terminus of the Cochecho Rail Road, but Alton Corner, appears to be a business place, where we stop for the night at the pleasant Inn of Geo. D. Savage & Co., and the next day reach home after an absence of a week, and find our friends all in good health, and our own much improved by the journey.
Rochester, July, 1854 (Dover Enquirer, August 1, 1854).
Much of this trip might be repeated and many of its scenes – save the Old Man of the Mountain – can still be seen today.
References:
Find a Grave. (2022, October 27). Dennison Rogers Burnham. Retrieved from www.findagrave.com/memorial/245079882/dennison-rogers-burnham
Find a Grave. (2012, July 29). Abel Crawford. Retrieved from www.findagrave.com/memorial/94437525/abel-crawford
Find a Grave. (2016, August 4). Horace Fabyan. Retrieved from www.findagrave.com/memorial/167765930/horace-fabyan
Find a Grave. (2013, June 2). Joseph Lane Gibb. Retrieved from www.findagrave.com/memorial/111693621/joseph-lane-gibb
Find a Grave. (2013, October 2). Levi Perkins. Retrieved from www.findagrave.com/memorial/117976522/levi-perkins
Find a Grave. (2007, October 23). LTC George D. Savage. Retrieved from www.findagrave.com/memorial/22401192/george-d-savage
Find a Grave. (2006, December 29). Samuel Fitch Spaulding. Retrieved from www.findagrave.com/memorial/17206268/samuel-fitch-spaulding
Find a Grave. (2014, July 27). Thomas Jefferson Spooner. Retrieved from www.findagrave.com/memorial/133426065/thomas-jefferson-spooner
Find a Grave. (2015, November 25). Richard Taft. Retrieved from www.findagrave.com/memorial/155373070/richard-taft
Find a Grave. (2012, June 24). Elizabeth Bond Wiswall Wiggin. Retrieved from www.findagrave.com/memorial/92466280/elizabeth-bond-wiggin
Wikipedia. (2024, August 11). Crawford Family of the White Mountains. Retrieved from en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crawford_family_of_the_White_Mountains
Wikipedia. (2024, November 20). Crawford House (Crawford Notch, New Hampshire). Retrieved from en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crawford_House_(Crawford_Notch,_New_Hampshire)
Wikipedia. (2025, February 28). Crawford Notch. Retrieved from en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crawford_Notch
Wikipedia. (2024, February 25). Echo Lake (Franconia Notch). Retrieved from en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Echo_Lake_(Franconia_Notch)
Wikipedia. (2025, February 16) Flume Gorge. Retrieved from en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flume_Gorge
Wikipedia. (2025, January 6). Franconia Notch. Retrieved from en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Franconia_Notch
Wikipedia. (2025, March 20). Izaak Walton. Retrieved from en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Izaak_Walton
Wikipedia. (2025, January 5). Kearsarge North. Retrieved from en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kearsarge_North
Wikipedia. (2025, March 17). Mount Washington. Retrieved from en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mount_Washington
Wikipedia. (2025, March 24). Old Man of the Mountain. Retrieved from en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Old_Man_of_the_Mountain
Wikipedia. (2025, February 17). Profile House. Retrieved from en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Profile_House
Wikipedia. (2025, January 7). Tip-Top House. Retrieved from en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tip-Top_House
Wikipedia. (2025, February 11). Willey House (New Hampshire). Retrieved from en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Willey_House_(New_Hampshire)
Milton Observer 