The mist too, covering
the surface of the water, gave it a snow-like look, and altogether the
sight was very lovely. The road from this to Gorham was most
interesting, being down the course of the Androscoggan river through a
very wide valley, with high hills on both sides.
We left the train at the Alpine House at Gorham, to take a peep at the
White Mountains. We were kept waiting some little time at Gorham, while
the wheels of the _buggy_, that was to take us to the foot of Mount
Washington, were being examined. This vehicle was a sort of
double-bodied pony chair, of a very rickety description, the front seat
being contrived to turn over, so as to make more room for those at the
back to get in and out, the consequence was that it was always disposed,
even with papa's weight upon it, to turn over, and throw him upon the
horses' tails. Thrower and I sat behind, and papa and the driver in the
front, and I held on tightly by the back, which had the double advantage
of keeping me in, and of preventing his tumbling out. We had two capital
horses, and were driven for eight miles by the side of a mountain
torrent called by the unromantic name of the Peabody River. The woods
through which we passed were extremely pretty, and the torrent was our
companion throughout the drive. The road was of the roughest possible
description, over large boulders and up and down hills.
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