]><' Red m\ manderings 'T: \ If JJ 1 ^'-^ Copyrighted 1912 by 'Thomas Francis Sheridan Red pi Uianderiiids Sik£,n>Aou^ ; :J ^O^-vwCl^ '5/i>a.^v^^>i^ ©CI.A330090 y< <'; RED HILL WANDERINGS |OR many years now I have spent my summers and a goodly portion of each winter, that is, as much as I could steal from a busy law practice, at the old farm home at the foot of Red Hill, one of New Hampshire's lovely mountains not far from the shores of Lake Winnepesaukee, the beautiful, which interpreted by the Indians means "the Smile of the Great Spirit", and which indeed to all who know it seems rightly named. One could write chapters about this beautiful lake and the many other attractive waters of this part of New Hampshire, but "that is another story." D ED HILL stands alone, and it is to this •■■ ^ splendid isolation that it owes its principal charm, for at its pinnacle -as the natives call Wander- ing* Red the summit — it seemingly stands up in the J^J" , center of a huge natural amphitheater. In the early spring the mountain is ^rikingly beautiful with the multi-colored trees that cover its sides, the maples with their pleasing light greens, the hardier oaks of a darker green, the birches and beeches of still different shades; and, finally, the dark coniferous pines, growing in huge patches here and there clear to the summit of Old Piney Top, attract the attention of the lovers of nature. But the hill attains its full glory in the autumn, when the fro^ has tinted the deciduous trees. Then the hardy oaks — red and white— and the handsome maples show their autumn tints, from a light to a flam- ing red, from which the mountain takes its name, so that the whole top of the hill seems to be tinted a gorgeous, flaming scarlet. Then there are the glorious beauties of the woods in the autumn time — the wild afters, the gorgeous golden rod, and the fragile, delicate fringed gentian — September's Princess Charming. Yes, Mother Nature has done much for these hills. A ND then there are its many little mountain ^^ '^*" brooks that remind one of the Tyrol, *Jj" except for the speckled mountain trout that j hide in their pools, the feathery songsters that sing in the woods, and the many kinds of animals — large and small — that live and hide in its forests; all of which make a walk through these woods very interesting in summer and winter alike Numbers of times in the depths of winter, with several feet of snow on the ground, I have taken my gun and Beagles, more for companionship than from any desire to kill or maim these little people of the woods — for I have long since lo^ all the desire I ever had to kill any of God's creatures — and climbed over and through the many hills and valleys of the mountain. And particularly after a light fall of snow is it intere^ing, when the places near the brooks and water courses are like a page from Nature's book written over by all the living creatures that inhabit it, excepting Man. The tracks of the squirrel predominate, but you will see many foot-prints of the little ground squirrels, ings R«^ for they do not all hibernate or live in their , holes throughout the winter, as I was taught Wander- , i i* * .i when quite young to believe was the case. The runways of the larger rabbits are very plain, for it is the large white snow-shoe that we find hereabouts. Then the tracks of the deer ^and out daintily, and are easily tracked if one is seeking their hiding places with ulterior motives. A GAIN, we have with us — and I have seen *^^ on these walks many birds that stay with us the winter through, as well as the occasional winter visitors — the Juncos, in flocks usually, the prettier Snow Bunting in smaller numbers, the Canadian, as well as its larger brother the Blue Jay, and the con^ant and ^urdy Pheasants. I remember one walk particularly: It was on a cold December day in nineteen-nine that I saw a number of birds, in fad a large flock containing fifty or more of different species, among which were some Goldfinches with their somber winter coats, and some Pine Siskins in the same Hill Wander. ings. flock. The same morning of this walk I saw a ^f^ few Red Crossbills, who are merely visitors during severe winters. At other times I have noticed Chicadees, which stay with us all the winter, the red-breasted Nuthatch,Woodpeckers and occasionally a few Kinglets. I 'HEN at times I have wandered up the •*" mountain side to some sheltered spot, with- out any companion save walking-stick and pipe, and sat down on a convenient log to re^ and smoke, and at times like these have wondered why, why so much beauty was spent by the Maker of it all — call Him Providence if you will — in these wonderfully beautiful woods that are so attractive at all times, and particularly in winter, and apparently with no motive or at- traction for the people who live on His foot- stool. For one who sees, loves, and analyzes these things, cannot help feeling that all of this is not the result of mere chance. It cannot be; it mu^ be the design or work of some wonderful infinite Being. And a feeling of pity arises R«^ in the brea^ for the millions of men that come ^^ and stay on this cru^ of Mother Earth for a inffs ^^^ ^^^^^ years, and then go without ever knowing anything of it all, or why; and this applies not only to the well-to-do, but to the poor; as well to the man who lives in the mid^ of it all and yet never sees it as to the city man; and to the preacher as well as to the layman — he knoweth not God's works, nothing but of the hives. D UT I started to sing of Red Hill, and I have •■-^ wandered. It has many pleasant paths leading to its pinnacle through thick pine forces, heavy growths of oak and birch, through open places and by laughing little brooks. It seems as if the brooks and waters of this part of the world are never rough and boisterous, but al- ways laughing. Bearcamp Water, the Swift and Cold Rivers always seem so cheerful that it is a good tonic to spend a day wading through them, casting flies in their many pools as an excuse for the wadings and wanderings. 10 ings. r5UT returning to the mountain: the path to ^^^ ^ the saddle, up through the old Watson and ^" Moulton woods is the mo^ intere^ing, and after you have reached your fir^ re^ng place, the old Pennyman Farm, that looks so peaceful in its abandoned ^ate, and have partaken of the water from its refreshing spring, you enter the final path that leads to the pinnacle, and as you near the top you see huge ant hills of the mound build- ing ants (Formica exsectoides), that fill you with admiration for the energy and tremendous acflivities that these wonderful little inseds display. These ant hills are sometimes fully three feet high and from eight to ten feet in diameter, and there mu^ be hundreds of thousands of ants working incessantly in each of them. >\ T la^ we reach and come out on the ^ ^ bare granite pinnacle of the hill. The view that greets you is incomparable, spread all around you as is seen nowhere else in this country. Edward Everett wrote of it many years ago as the "mo^ beautiful view in the Hill Wander- ings Red world." It takes some time and many trips to the summit to see and appreciate it all. At fir^ without any aid other than that which God gave us, and then with field glasses, one begins to see, underhand, and appreciate. To the ea^ of us are our nearer neighbors — the green Ossipee mountains — with Red Hill River and ponds in between. To the north is the beauti- ful Sandwich Range, at the extreme right of which is old Chocorua with its clear-cut profile, its bald summit, and its intere^ing legend: It is the fir^ to attradl, and the la^ to linger in our memory. It is surely a beautiful mountain, ju^ such as, during my boyhood days, I fancied a mountain should be. Then comes old Toadback, as Mt. Paugus is usually called hereabouts, and well called. Next is Passaconway; then White Face, the higher as well as larger mountain in this range; then Tripyramid; Black Mountain; and, finally. Old Israel, the weather prophet for the farmer folks hereabouts, who say that when he puts on his cap he never takes it off until it rains, a prophecy that I have often observed as 12 Hill Wander- ings. true. On a good day the peak of Mt. Wash- R«^ ington may be seen peeping just over the left shoulder of Whiteface, as well as other peaks of the Presidential Range. To the northwe^ is seen the Franconia Range, to the south the Belknaps, and away to the southwest the dim outline of pretty Mt. Monadnock. IDUT the principal beauty, and the one that ^^ you will turn to again and again, is the view of the many lakes that are scattered all around and away below you. Lake Winne- pesaukee, with an island for every day in the year and covering a va^ area, is particularly beautiful on a sunny day. Then to the right of it, Squam Lake appears set like a jewel be- tween the hills, and the other lesser, but very pretty and numerous small lakes add witchery to the scene. And as your eyes begin to grasp it all, you will notice the many pretty villages, with their little white houses always peeping through the deep greens of their wonderful shade trees, nestling here and there all over the 13 ing« ^«<* landscape, each having its little white church * with its spire pointing heavenward. Sandwich, at the foot of the valley near the Sandwich range, is the most picturesquely situated and is at the north of us. Then to the west on the shores of Squam Lake is Holdemess and Ashland; to the southwest Center Harbor, Meredith, and TTie Weirs; and over to the south — all on the shores of Lake Winnepesau- kee — is Melvin Village and Wolfeboro, while here and there on the slopes of the many hills are pretty hamlets picturesquely situated, giving added charm to the scene. /^N a clear autumn day, with the kindly ^^ aid of a field glass, the Green Mountains are seen and here and there a glimpse of the river that divides the two States, though it appears as simply a little spot or pool of water. Some of those who live here say that on aa unusually clear day Old Ocean may be seen, but I have looked for it many limes in vain. All of this seems very old with every recuning 14 August 1912. 15 ings. visit, yet to me it is ever new, a« some land- ^^^ mark strikes the eye for the firft time, and 1 am JJl , always loath to enter the downward path again and leave the scene behind; but there is com- fort in the thought that to-morrow, next month, next year it may be, it will all be there to greet me on my return, and be as it was when I left it last. — Thomas Francis Sheridan. DtC CMin-HUl Prtndnr Co.. Chicago.