The

minerals, and a philosophical and chemical apparatus, added to which is a collection of paintings. The officers are a president and six professors: a medical school is attached to the college with three professors. funds of this institution are derived from lands granted by the Hon. James Bowdoin for its original endowment, other lands granted by Massachusetts and Maine, and an annuity from the latter state. The number of students is 139; term of study, 39 weeks in a year.

Waterville College was incorporated as a literary and theological institution in 1813; in 1820 its powers were enlarged by permission to confer degrees. It is under the direction of the Baptist denomination, and has a president, two professors, and a tutor: the buildings are two handsome brick edifices. Its permanent property consists of a township of land containing 38,000 acres, granted by the state of Massachusetts. The students are about 45 in number. Bangor Theological Seminary was incorporated in 1814. It has two professors; the course of study is three years. Its funds have been contributed by private individuals.

Gardiner Lyceum was established in 1822; its object is to prepare young men, by a scientific education, to become skilful farmers and mechanics. The studies pursued are arithmetic, book-keeping, surveying, navigation, mathematics, algebra, chemistry, natural philosophy, agriculture, &c. An annuity of 1000 dollars has been granted to it by the Legislature: the indigent receive instruction gratis. The Maine Wesleyan Seminary, at Readfield, was incorporated in 1822, and half a township of land was subsequently granted for its support; it is designed for the education of Methodist preachBesides these institutions, there are 28 incorporated academies, mostly aided by grants of land from the Legislature: each town is also required by law to raise and expend for the support of common schools, 40 cents for each inhabitant. About three fourths of the children of the state, between four and twenty one years, usually attend the schools.

ers.

14. HISTORY. The civil history of Maine goes, properly, no farther back than 1820, when it was separated from Massachusetts and became an independent state. The Plymouth Company attempted a settlement in Maine at the mouth of the Kennebec in 1607, but this proved abortive. The first permanent establishment was made about 1626 near the mouth of the Kennebec. The province was granted to Sir Ferdinando Gorges, who established a government over it in 1639; the first general court was held at Saco in 1640, but the province was shortly afterwards united to Massachusetts.

This state was the scene of one of the most remarkable events in the history of the Revolution; this was the march of Arnold and his troops against Quebec, in 1775, across an unexplored wilderness. He set out about the middle of September with a body of 1000 men; they proceeded up the Kennebec against a swift current, and the frequent obstructions of rapids and cataracts, round which they were obliged to draw their arms, provisions and boats by hand. Their course after this, lay through deep swamps, and over rugged mountains. Such was their incessant toil, that large numbers were overcome with fatigue and sickness, and turned back. The whole of the rear division also became disheartened and returned. Those who proceeded, had soon to suffer the horrors of famine in addition to other distresses; yet they heroically continued their march. Before they reached the highlands, in the neighborhood of Canada, their provisions failed, and such was their extremity, that dogs, the leather of cartridge boxes, and shoes were devoured. The troops at last nearly sank under fatigue and hunger; the order of march was broken up, and each man sought his own safety. The last morsel of food was consumed when they reached the neighborhood of a settlement. Arnold with a few of the most vigorous among the troops, now pushed on, and after 30

miles march, arrived at a French village on the Chaudiere, where relief was obtained. In this expedition, almost unparalleled for the fortitude and suffering which it exhibited, the troops were thirty two days without seeing the abode of man.

CHAPTER II. NEW HAMPSHIRE.

PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY.

1. BOUNDARIES AND EXTENT. New Hampshire is bounded N. by Lower Canada: E. by Maine: S. by Massachusetts: and W. by Connecticut River which separates it from Vermont. It extends from 42° 41' to 45° 11' N. latitude, and from 70° 40' to 72° 28′ W. longitude; being 168 miles in length from N. to S. and 90 in breadth. It comprises an area of 9,491 square miles, or 6,074,240 acres, including 110,000 acres of water.

2. MOUNTAINS. Between the Merrimack and Connecticut in the S. W. part of this state there extends a ridge from S. to N. called the White Mountain Ridge, the loftiest summits of this are Monadnock, 3,254 feet high, Sunapee, Kearsarge, Carr's Mountain and Mooshelock, called by a corruption, Moosehillock. This last is 4636 feet high. Towards the N. of the state, these eminences rise to a much higher elevation, and are known by the name of the White Mountains.

These merit a particular description from their superior height, and the noble and picturesque scenery which they exhibit. They are the loftiest mountains in the U. States, E. of the Mississippi. They lie between the Connecticut and Androscoggin rivers on the N. E. and W., and the head waters of the Merrimack on the S. 60 or 70 miles from the coast; yet their white summits are visible for many miles at sea. They extend about

20 miles from S. W. to N. E. and their base is 8 or 10 miles broad. The highest summit is Mount Washington, 6428 feet above the level of the sea. The best description of these mountains has been given by Dr Dwight, whose account we shall chiefly follow, using for the most part his own words:

In passing from the South to Mount Washington, the traveller crosses Mounts Pleasant, Franklin and Monroe. In the way, lie forests and ravines choked with trees, whose branches interlock in such a manner, that it is very difficult to pass through them. Mount Pleasant is easily ascended. Its top, to the extent of 5 or 6 acres is smooth, and gradually slopes away in every direction from its centre. It is everywhere covered with short grass, growing in little tufts to the height of 4 or 5 inches; among these tufts mountain flowers are thinly scattered. The prospect from this summit is beautiful. To the W. the eye is dazzled with the splendor of Mount Washington. N. W. are the settlements in Jefferson; W. the course of the Ammonoosuc as though drawn on a map; S. Mooshelock, the Haystack and Chocorua Peak are discovered. Easterly are towns, mountains and dark forests. From the foot of this mountain, the ascent is gradual to the top of Mount Franklin. After crossing this and Mount Monroe, the traveller finds himself on a plain at the foot of Mount Washington.

The pinnacle of this eminence rises like an immense pyramid, or some vast kremlin in this magnificent city of mountains; it is composed of huge rocks of granite and gneiss, piled together in various forms and hues. The first part of the way is through a thick forest of heavy timber. This is limited above by a growth of stinted and gnarled fir trees, ten or fifteen feet in height, which form a belt round the mountain 80 rods wide. These suddenly give place to a growth of short bushes, and then succeeds a bed of thin moss, not sufficient to cover the granite rock and the immense masses of loose stones which form the surface. For more than a mile the ground is entirely destitute of trees, and a few straggling spiders, or little flowering plants are all that the mountain produces. The view from the summit is wonderfully grand and picturesque. Innumerable mountains, lakes, ponds, rivers, towns and villages meet the eye on every side.

The finest view is toward the S. Looking down the valley through which the road leads from the summit, a grand sierra of mountain peaks extend far off beyond the bright surface of Winnipiseogee lake. Southwesterly is discovered the Grand Monadnock. The ocean may be seen in the S. E. but notwithout a telescope. In the N. E. is the valley of the Androscoggin, abounding in wild and romantic scenery. N. is Lake Umbagog, and a country still more wild and uncultivated. W. the immediate view is over a mountainous region, covered with a thick forest, with the occasional opening of a farm among the trees. Beyond, the hills are seen to rise from the opposite shore of the Connecticut, the surface of which is everywhere hidden from view, and the summits rising higher and higher, terminate in the ridges of the Green Mountains of Vermont. Loose fragments of granite are everywhere scattered over the mountain, with some portions of gneiss. The granite is generally gray, and at first, fine grained, but grows coarser as we ascend, and is occasionally sprinkled with small garnets. At the summit it frequently contains a little black tourmaline, sometimes in crossing crystals. On the summit also, some of the granite is tinged with red, although much of it is colored bright green by lichens, dampened by the humidity of the clouds, and interspersed with thick and soft gray moss. The grain of the coarse granite is elongated, and what strikes the visiter as very singular is, that not a single rock is to be found in its original place; every thing bears the mark of change, and this, added to the appearance of the precipice on the northern side, seems to indicate that the original summit of the mountain has fallen down and disappeared. The only places susceptible of cultivation in the heart of the mountains, are the little meadows inhabited by the Crawfords, and the Notch and Willey Meadows: even here the interval of warm weather is so short, that few vegetables can arrive at maturity. The weather is liable to frequent changes

which is partly owing to the Notch, through which the wind blows almost unceasingly, even when the air is perfectly still at a short distance from it. The wind is always N. or S. During the winter it is often so violent, as to keep not only the snow but everything loose from lying on the road.

To the sportsman and hunter, the forests and rivers afford every advantage during the brief summer which visits the valley. Various kinds of wild fowl are to be found in the woods, besides bears, wild cats and deer. The moose and bison were formerly numerous, and it is little more than thirty years since the former were killed in great numbers, for their hides and tallow. Deer are common; sometimes they come down into the meadows and graze quietly with the cattle. The American black bear is occasionally seen in the wilder parts, but always endeavors to avoid men. The cariboo or American rein-deer has made its appearance among the mountains within a few years.

The road from the sea coast to the mountains passes along the head stream of the Saco, which rises among these mountains and breaks through them at a place known by the name of the Notch, a narrow defile extending two miles in length between two large cliffs, apparently rent asunder by some vast convulsion of nature. This convulsion was, in the opinion of Dr Dwight, that of a deluge. There are here,' says he, ' and throughout New England, no decisive proofs of volcanic violence, nor any strong exhibitions of the power of earthquakes. Nor has history recorded any earthquake or volcano in other countries, of sufficient efficacy to produce the phenomena of this place. The objects rent asunder are too great, the ruin is too vast and too complete to have been accomplished by these agents. The change appears. to have been effected when the surface of the earth sunk to a great extent; when countries and continents assumed a new face, and a general commotion of the elements produced the disruption of some mountains, and merged others beneath the common level of desolation. Nothing less than this, will account for the sundering of a long range of great rocks, or rather of vast mountains, or for the existing evidences of the immense force by which the rupture was effected.'

The entrance of the chasm is formed by two rocks standing perpendicularly at the distance of 22 feet from each other: one about 20 feet in height, and the other about twelve. Half of the space is occupied by the brook mentioned as the head stream of the Saco, the other half by the road. The stream is lost and invisible beneath a mass of fragments, partly blown out of the road, and partly thrown down by some great convulsion. When we entered

the Notch, we were struck with the wild and solemn appearance of everything before us. The scale on which all the objects in view were formed, was the scale of grandeur only. The rocks, rude and rugged in a manner rarely paralleled, were fashioned and piled on each other by a hand, operating only in the boldest and most irregular manner. As we advanced, these appearances increased rapidly. Huge masses of granite of every abrupt form, and hoary with a moss which seemed the product of ages, speedily rose to a mountainous height.

Before us the view widened far to the S. E. Behind us, it closed almost instantaneously, and presented nothing to the eye but an impassable barrier of mountains. About half a mile from the entrance of the chasm, we saw in full view the most beautiful cascade, perhaps, in the world. It issued from a mountain on the right, about 800 feet above the subjacent valley, and at the distance of about two miles from us, the stream ran over a series of rocks almost perpendicular, with a course so little broken, as to preserve the appearance of a uniform current, and yet so far disturbed as to be perfectly white. The sun shone with the clearest splendor from a station in the heavens the most advantageous to our prospect, and the cascade glittered down the vast steep like a stream of burnished silver.

At the distance of three quarters of a mile from the entrance, we passed a brook, known in this region by the name of the Flume, from the strong resemblance to that object, exhibited by the channel which it has worn for a considerable length in a bed of rocks, the sides being perpendicular to the bottom. This elegant piece of water we determined to examine farther, and alighting from our horses, walked up the acclivity perhaps a furlong. The stream fell from a height of 240 or 250 feet over three precipices, the second receding a small distance from the front of the first, and the third from that of the second. Down the first and second, it fell in a single current, and down the third in three, which united their streams at the bottom, in a firm basin formed by the hand of nature in the rock immediately beneath us. It is impossible for a brook of this size to be modelled into more diversified or more delightful forms, or for a cascade to descend over precipices more happily fitted to finish its beauty.

The cliffs together with a level at their foot, furnished a considerable opening, surrounded by the forest. The sunbeams penetrating through the trees, painted here a great variety of fine images of light, and edged an equally numerous and diversified collection of shadows, both dancing on the waters, and alternately silvering and obscuring their course. Purer water was never seen. Exclusive of its murmurs, the world around us was solemn and silent. Everything assumed the character of enchantment, and had I been educated in the Grecian mythology, I should scarcely have been surprised to find an assemblage of Dryads, Naiads and Oreads sporting on the little plain below our feet. The purity of this water was discernible, not only by its limpid appearance and its taste, but from several other circumstances. Its course is wholly over hard granite, and the rocks and stones in its bed and at its side, instead of being covered with adventitious substances, were washed perfectly clean, and by their neat appearance added not a little to the beauty of the scenery. From this spot the mountain speedily began to open with increased majesty, and in several instances rose to a perpendicular height of little less than a mile. The bosom of both ranges was overspread in all the inferior regions, by a mixture of evergreens with trees whose leaves are deciduous. The annual foliage had been already changed by the frost. Of the effects of this change it is perhaps impossible for an inhabitant of Great Britain, as I have been assured by several foreigners, to form an adequate conception without visiting an American forest. When I was a youth, I remarked that Thom