"Chicago to the Sea." Eastern Excursionist / A complete guide to the principal eastern summer resorts, including: Niagara Falls, the White Mountains, Saint Lawrence and Saguenay Rivers, Montreal and Quebec, the New England sea beaches, etc., and how and when to enjoy them.

by William C. Gage

SUNRISE ON MOUNT WASHINGTON.

DISTANT VIEW OF MOUNT WASHINGTON.

The grand, culminating view from this lofty point of observation is to be had at the rising of the sun. For this incomparable prospect you must spend a night among the clouds, and perchance more than one night, as nature is fickle at that altitude as well as in the valleys below, and not unfrequently “old Sol” has half a forenoon’s work before him to dispel “the mists of the morning” before his face is visible to the watchers on the summit. Should you be favored, however, with both a clear sunrise and sunset in one day, as was the writer on the occasion of his first visit, you will cherish in the chambers of memory the most enchanting pictures of a lifetime. Sunset at sea has awakened the lyre of many a poet, and inspired the pencil of many a painter; but neither pen nor pencil can give an adequate picture of the beauties of a sunrise as viewed from the summit of Mount Washington.

WATCHING FOR SUNRISE.

At early dawn the inmates of the house are roused, and such as
choose arise and dress, and take their position on the platform east of the building, to watch for the first appearance of the “golden orb of day.” Beneath you the valleys are still in slumber, and a deep gloom is spread over all, in sharp contrast with the light of dawn which already illumines the mountain peaks around you. Banks of mist here and there indicate the location of bodies of water, and possibly overhanging clouds may partially hide some of the mountain summits from view.

TIP-TOP HOUSE IN WINTER.

All eyes are turned expectantly towards the east, which is beginning to show a faint rosy tinge, deepening every moment till it reaches a crimson or perhaps a golden hue, a fitting couch from which the brilliant day king is about to spring forth to enter upon his glorious reign. Suddenly one point in the eastern horizon grows more intensely bright than all the rest, and the disc of the sun is then discernible, quickly increasing in proportions until the broad face of the great luminary so dazzles the eye as to compel a withdrawal of the gaze.

Looking then into the valleys below, the effect is transcendently beautiful. While the spectator is bathed in the full golden sunshine, the somber shadows are just beginning to flit away, presenting in the strongest possible manner the contrasts of light and shade; and not until some minutes have elapsed, does the new-born day reach down into the deepest valleys to drive forth the lingering remnants of night.

The view of the mountain peaks around, as, one after another, according to their height, they are touched by the rays of the rising sun, is very beautiful; and even the dullest mind can scarcely resist the enthusiastic inspiration awakened by the scene. And then, as the sun mounts steadily upward, giving heat as well as light with his cheering rays, the mists below are slowly dispelled, and nature puts on her most bewitching countenance, with her gloomy frowns banished, supplanted by the sweetest smiles.

Such is but a faint description of a sunrise witnessed by the writer. The picture will vary with the changing circumstances, and that which it may be the reader’s fortune to behold, though entirely unlike it, may be none the less beautiful and enchanting.

MOUNT GARFIELD.

The old Tip-Top and Summit Houses still stand, together with the buildings of the U. S. Signal Service, the ticket-office and station of the Glen House stage line, with its stables, and the engine house of the railway. The office of Among the Clouds, a daily paper, occupies the old Tip-Top House; and in the Signal Service building a band of resolute men brave the rigors of winter in the interests of science, recording the temperature, the velocity of the wind, etc. With the thermometer at fifty degrees below zero, and the wind blowing with a velocity of one hundred and fifty miles an hour, it must require nerves of steel and a hardy constitution to survive the ordeal.

The old bridle path from the Crawford House to the summit is still employed by those who wish to make the ascent, as in the “good old days,” but the favorite method, next to the railroad trip, is by the