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IT IS DAY— the first of the third month. Con- 
 cubar comes from a potential state into new 
 life. The truths and secrets of ocean, earth, 
 firmament give constant interest; creatures of 
 water, wood, air, much pleasure; sunshine, rain, 
 snow, equal value and delig-ht — for, what in Na- 
 ture is not good? At times he climbs the mount- 
 ains, hunts the forests, fishes the streams-takes 
 from the storms their energy and reads tidings 
 in the heights. 
 
''OLD MAN 
 THOMPSON'' 
 
 BY 
 
 CONCUBAR 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1911, 
 By DANIEL P. CONNOR. 
 
 MANOHBSTaR,' N. 'H.. 
 
f^ 
 
 
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 IT IS NIGHT. Concubar sits in his 
 Maple street home by the banks of 
 the picturesque Merrimack river. 
 In spirit he wanders back to the mount- 
 ains of this his native place— "The Gran- 
 ite State." In imagination he sees sublime 
 beauty, again stands in their midst with 
 two Indian friends — and — who name 
 them in the different dialects of the ab- 
 origine, — "Wambek Mentha," "Agio- 
 CHOOK," which mean, "mountains with 
 SNOWY FOREHEADS,"— while facts of per- 
 sonal reminiscence and symbols of asso- 
 ciate friendship indulge dreams. 
 
 DANIEI. P. CONNOR. 
 Manchester, N. H. 
 
 
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"Old Man Thompson" 
 
 IN a small cottage, near a road which 
 runs along the northern base of Mt. 
 Agassiz, Bethlehem, New Hampshire, 
 lived a keen-eyed, quiet-mannered, 
 very aged man. During the resort's season 
 — for it was known as the highest New- 
 England village with a world reputation as 
 a hay fever paradise — he catered to the lei- 
 sure wants of the sight-seekers who traveled 
 between twenty-six hotels or boarding hou- 
 ses and a steel observatory on the mountain. 
 The summer demand for cool drinks, — 
 made from roots and herbs gathered by him- 
 self — pine maple sugar, fruit, or purchase 
 of an artistic alpenstock, were, therefore, 
 agreeably easy means of informal introduc- 
 tion. Among the accumulate throng of tour- 
 ists, however, few were aware that previous 
 to comparative inaction, which extend- 
 ed some years before his death at ninety- 
 five, this remarkable individual followed the 
 avocation and duties of Nature. Love for 
 and study of it blended with inherited service 
 — he was a trapper and guide, like his father. 
 
Folio 4] "Old Man Thompson" 
 
 Devoutly gifted the true catholicity of out- 
 door life should have produced wonderful 
 resignation, still there alternated for him 
 ecstasy and gloom in subtle mystery. Lest 
 you mistake the character briefly pictured it 
 is well to bear in mind that no nobler spec- 
 imen of native breeding ever struggled amid 
 the ruggedness of beloved granite hills, 
 within whose rare atmosphere and sublime 
 grandeur he labored and lived all his days. 
 Lithe, sinewy and of iron constitution; 
 tough as a tree of the forest's exposed vic- 
 inity, — confirmed by personal claim that he 
 * 'reached the sixtieth year without feeling 
 fatigue" — such was manhood' s prime. To 
 enable a measure of endurance, likewise 
 show phases of career and friendship, let me 
 take you to the kindness of his out-shop, 
 where, under the hospitable shade of apple 
 trees were found red painted board benches 
 for the accommodation of weary patrons. 
 IF It was a late sultry June afternoon when 
 two favorite boys, with a younger sister, re- 
 turning to a distant mountain lodge home, 
 after youth's long session at school, stepped 
 in to rest and be entertained with the fol- 
 lowing tale: 
 

 
 
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"Old Man Thompson" [Folio 5 
 
 1 ne Lost Flume 
 
 A GOOD many years ago, when Beth- 
 lehem was only a cluster of houses, 
 and there was plenty game in the woods, I 
 was at North Woodstock and left to cross 
 the mountains, almost directly over Lafay- 
 ette and Garfield. It was a very hot day for 
 the middle of December. When I started 
 out it looked as if I was going to have some 
 good weather. The first day I got away 
 from level country and by noon the next 
 was well up the side of the mountain. It 
 became cloudy about two o'clock and soon 
 began to snow. Shortly after I ran right 
 into a fresh bear track. From the size of 
 the footprints I knew it was a very large 
 one. I started on it, thinking that the an- 
 imal could not be far ahead or else the 
 imprints would be covered with snow which 
 was falling fast. The tracks kept twisting 
 down the mountain, and, after about two 
 miles, turned directly around and followed 
 the bank of a small stream which led up to 
 what looked from there, a gorge in the 
 range. The trail kept along the water, and, 
 after a while, I found myself in a deep val- 
 
Folio 6] "Old Man Thompson" 
 
 ley with steep sides. It was late and getting 
 dark fast . The tracks were becoming more 
 and more indistinct, so I decided to give up 
 and seek a place to camp. I had hardly 
 made up my mind when it suddenly drew 
 extremely dark and the wind began to blow 
 and tear in driving sheets of blinding snow 
 and ice. I wandered around for what seemed 
 a week, searching for a sheltered place, but 
 there was none to be found in the awful 
 darkness. I kept on going, almost driven 
 by the force of the wind, which, with the 
 darkness, made it possible to proceed only 
 by feeling my way. I was nearly frozen and 
 had I fallen down would have stayed there 
 to die, likely as not, when, unexpectedly, I 
 stumbled into an open space. There was no 
 snow on the ground, no wind at all and dry 
 leaves rustled under my feet. It was warm 
 and fine after being out in the storm. I 
 built a fire of leaves and sticks which w^ere 
 scattered around. From the light I saw 
 that it was a kind of cave about ten feet 
 wide and eighteen deep. Where I stood 
 was a little higher than myself but it slanted 
 to about a foot on the opposite side and a 
 large boulder almost blocked the front. In 
 
*'Old Man Thompson" [Folio 7 
 
 a little while I went to the opening and 
 glanced out. The storm was still raging 
 but above it I could hear, somewhere, the 
 roar of water. I retired to my comfortable 
 surprise and never so enjoyed rest and sleep 
 — choice luck. The morning after the storm 
 I stepped out to see a most beautiful sight. 
 There I was in a regular flume, walls straight 
 on either side, and just above, a picturesque 
 waterfall rushing over a precipice in a per- 
 fect sheet and splashing on the rocks below. 
 The sun shining on the spray, the drifts of 
 snow and the swiftness of the stream were 
 great. I glanced at it for a while, then 
 went down, dreaming how I would build a 
 road up to it some day and make a fortune. ' ' 
 H Primitive instincts and emotions rhymed 
 to the mountaineer's soft recital. As he 
 mused over the finished prayer of hope and 
 fancy ran free in companions there was si- 
 lence. Presently came tuning to a gentler 
 croon, a loftier object, as the bright Miss 
 met a social obligation and adorned the 
 highest peak in the vicinity and North Ap- 
 palachian Range with a modernized legend. 
 In the charm of written and practiced effort 
 she cited how a little girl in the locality was 
 
Folio 8] "Old Man Thompson" 
 
 transformed from the miseries of trying or- 
 phanage to the ideal state of fairyhood, and 
 with the veteran at close attention continued. 
 
 Xne Ne^\^ Fairy 
 
 A FTER Love Good had become a 
 -^-^^ New Fairy she was given a month's 
 time in which to enjoy herself and get accus- 
 tomed to the life. So, on a clear, beautiful 
 day she climbed on the back of a butterfly 
 and asked it to fly to that mountain of the 
 Presidential Range called Washington. On 
 the way the butterfly told her that many 
 years ago, when this land was inhabited by 
 giants and witches, the former used the in- 
 terior of the mountain for a treasure chest. 
 One after another they deposited all their 
 gold and jewels until, at last, the mountain 
 was full. There was one giant larger and 
 stronger than the rest. Being greedy he, 
 of course, coveted the wealth and planned 
 how to get it for himself. The rest, al- 
 though smaller, were just as avaricious. 
 After fighting over it for many days this 
 one, whose name was Axael, said: *Let us 
 all go to the summit and each slide to the 
 
"Old Man Thompson" [Folio 9 
 
 bottom. The one who does it in the least 
 time shall have the treasure.' They agreed. 
 Axael selected a large flat stone for each to 
 sit upon and started them, in turn, down 
 the treacherous slope. He was cunning and 
 picked out a dangerous route so that each 
 was killed as he reached the bottom. With 
 all the spoil he thought that he would be 
 happy but it was a selfish mistake. Fear 
 that the witches would steal it begun to 
 worry him day and night. To keep it safe 
 he spent many long years covering it up 
 with earth and rocks, until this one was 
 larger than any of the White Mountains. 
 If One day, while on the mountain, he 
 slipped and went down the very place his 
 comrades had gone before, meeting a just 
 and deserving fate. Many years after, when 
 the first white man* discovered this moun- 
 tain, he found a heap of bones at the foot 
 of the path, which he supposed were the re- 
 mains of Indians, and the course that of an 
 ancient landslide called Tuckerman Ravine. 
 In reality it was the path the giants made 
 going down the mountain." 
 
 * Darby Field — an Irishman — was the first white man 
 to climb Mount Washington. He did it in June, 1642 
 accompanied by two Indians. 
 
Folio 10] "Old Man Thompson" 
 
 f Do not depart with the young folks be- 
 cause to the sanie spot, if not scene, you will 
 be mentally drawn through this evidence of 
 superior knowledge and endowment and its 
 opportunity for humane estimate. 
 IF "The first time I saw the man was a ra- 
 ther hot day. He was tilted on a chair just 
 outside the door of the house — in the yard of 
 which he sold goods — smoking a black pipe 
 and reading. He hardly noticed when I 
 entered and sat down on one of the benches. 
 In time he put the newspaper aside and, 
 without looking at me drew a handful of 
 peanuts from his pocket, shelled some and 
 threw them on the ground over toward the 
 back of the building. Proceeding in this 
 manner until the kernels were all scattered 
 about he then made a noise, which sounded 
 to me like a squirrel scolding at something 
 from a tree. I kept watching without say- 
 ing anything. Two chipmunks came out 
 from under the house to gather the nuts. 
 All being disposed of they began turning 
 around for more. One surprised me by go- 
 ing up his leg, diving into his pocket and 
 carrying away a nut. Afterwards I found 
 that it was not unusual to see five or six of 
 
"Old Man Thompson" [Folio 11 
 
 them playing over him at the same time. 
 He had a red squirrel in a cage. I had tried 
 to keep several but they died so I asked the 
 secret of success. His advice was to catch 
 one in a box trap, put it in a cage and not 
 let it eat or drink for twenty-four hours. 
 Then mix a dose of molasses with half r — 
 and when over the effect it will have for- 
 gotten its wild life. It was one of the many 
 things 1 learned from him about trapping, 
 hunting, and fishing, and training wild ani- 
 mals." 
 
 Xne Sermon on the Mt. 
 
 To see him in a different role transport 
 yourself to a car on the Mount Wash- 
 ington steam incline railroad. In your mind' s 
 eye notice an accidental group, paired thus: 
 a clerical misfit, — who took every chance to 
 expound on his transcendant feelings and 
 curious introspection, — and a quiet, pensive, 
 guide-companion — guest: a handsome, as- 
 tute woman and her intelligent eight-year- 
 old daughter, — with a party of friends. 
 IF The guide intuitively sensed Nature's 
 providential degrees and ends as he was long 
 since tamed to patience by its inevitable dis- 
 
Folio 12] "Old Man Thompson" 
 
 cipline. During the intimated engagement 
 he made many futile attempts to reconcile 
 to proper premises reasoning which brought 
 to light the subjective dreams of the man 
 with whom he shared recreation. A ques- 
 tion, reflecting the clergyman' s state of mind 
 and the guide's common sense, was taking 
 the trip. Clash of words together with 
 commingled scene and soul gave a sort of 
 refined acquaintanceship. Does not the dis- 
 cord of a peasant chorus in a valley come to 
 ears on adjacent mountain top in perfect 
 harmony; common inspiration and interest 
 make people friends.'* The train merged 
 from a transient cloud formation to the 
 summit' s miraculous splendor. Minds were 
 drawn fromargument to the precocious Miss 
 who, under the spell of phenomena, ex- 
 claimed: ** Isn't it perfectly wonderful.'' " 
 Mother took her hand and said "Yes it is 
 beautiful and I will tell you a story. There 
 was a gentleman traveling in the Rocky 
 Mountains. One day he met a holy monk, 
 and on expressing his surprise at finding so 
 feeble a person in that wild country the 
 priest made answer. "Some months ago 
 I was at death's door. One night 1 had a 
 
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"Old Man Thompson" [Folio 13 
 
 dream and I thought our Lord said to me: 
 'These many years you have been preach- 
 ing of a better land and yet you have never 
 taken the trouble to notice the glorious 
 country in which you have a place. ' *Then 
 and there,' said the monk, 'I vowed that 
 if my health were restored I would learn to 
 appreciate this world. On my recovery I 
 started on my journey and when I again 
 meet my master I shall know how to thank 
 Him for blessings.' " 
 
 IF The lesson, so aptly imparted, had good 
 results. It calmed the excited mood of a 
 responsive temperament, squared with the 
 guide's idea and vindicated his philosophy. 
 In gracious facial approval he smilingly 
 turned to host and remarked, "You ought 
 to profit by that Sermon on the Mount." 
 
 Tke Last Wolf 
 
 MJ^AMED for droll reminiscence and in- 
 -^ genious method there was yet another 
 thing which made him a marked man. It 
 was that he killed the last wolf in the White 
 Mountains. Although no follower of major 
 sport will experience the thrill of such a 
 chase, or its special distinction, before that 
 
Folio 14] "Old Man Thompson" 
 
 dawn when Nature's regulation will have 
 welcomed a fated pack into the region of 
 exile, still in it you have an important sym- 
 bol. The drama of life, power, time, was 
 written in the solitary magnificence of the 
 mountains. The doom of many and the end 
 of much were figured in that play of death. 
 The wolf used every maternal tactics of 
 single and collective cunning until, of mul- 
 tiple ferocity, she was left to face a fine- 
 bred sportsman, — the enemy.? Type within 
 a type she becomes when you consider an 
 expression of christian dispensation and its 
 higher evolution. Classified, through cir- 
 cumstance, with the Timber wolf of inde- 
 pendent resourcefulness, she roamed alone 
 — supreme. In isolated abundance there 
 was no need of note of sharp warning, food 
 summons or hunger cry. Nevertheless you 
 wonder why she was deaf to the call of the 
 north and west where kin lived in the safety 
 of the wilderness. What hope of retribu- 
 tion or fond memory caused her to frequent 
 a vast estate — fatherland. At any rate an- 
 cestral traits and unlimited range were pit- 
 ted against an authority on animal psychol- 
 ogy, sharpshooter and geographer of track 
 
**Old Man Thompson" [Folio 15 
 
 and trail. A tedious hunt of calculated de- 
 tail or an end of quick dispatch matters little 
 over foes forever vanquished by the same 
 peaceful rest. With w^eird zest for odd fun 
 came a meaning. More so when you know 
 that from now on there was problem above 
 pastime. As in the past, shadows traced 
 their fantasies on mellow moonbeams; 
 winds sung myriad leafed melody through the 
 trees; seven voiced thunder lost naught in 
 the storm's symphony; brooks rippled as 
 varied a harmony as music of birds; earth 
 
 and firmament gave beauty and value; 
 
 creatures of wood, water, air, afforded en- 
 terprising inducement and pleasure but they 
 offered a different appeal. Even an acci- 
 dent in twilight's last eve continued the 
 essential change, and, 
 IF Hush! 
 
 IF Final orders were to be obeyed. Al- 
 mighty Nature, with its source and seal of 
 everything, neared the feeble hunter. With 
 calm heroism he drew gracefully away from 
 inner life's inconstant test to investigate the 
 revelation beyond, when suddenly, the 
 mountains became more beautiful to 
 ** OLD MAN THOMPSON" 
 

 
 
 
 
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 "OLD MAN THOMPSON" 
 
 January 23, 1814 January 24, 1909 
 
 The Last Great Guide and Trapper 
 of the White Mountains 
 
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