THE WHORTLEBERRY EXCURSION.
About a dozen of us, lads and lasses, had promised friend H. that on the first lowery day we would meet him and his family on the top of Moose Mountain, for the purpose of picking whortleberries, and of taking a view of the country around. We had provided the customary complement of baskets, pails, dippers, &c.; and one morning, which promised a suitable day for our excursion, we piled ourselves into a couple of waggons, and rode to the foot of the mountain and commenced climbing it on foot. A beaten path and spotted trees were our guides. A toilsome way we found it—some places being so steep that we were obliged to hold by the twigs, to prevent us from falling.
Three-quarters of an hour after we left our horses, we found ourselves on the whortleberry ground—some of us singing, some chatting, and all trying to see who could pick the most berries. Friend H. went from place to place among the young people, and with his social conversation gave new life to the party—while his chubby boys and rosy girls by their nimbleness plainly told that they did not intend that any one should beat them in picking berries.
Towards noon, friend H. conducted us to a spring, where we made some lemonade, having taken care to bring plenty of lemons and sugar with us, and also bread and cheese for a lunch. Seated beneath a wide-spreading oak, we partook of our homely repast; and never in princely hall were the choicest viands eaten with a keener relish. After resting a while, we recommenced picking berries, and in a brief space our pails and baskets were all full.
About this time, the clouds cleared away, the sun shone out in all the splendor imaginable, and bright and beautiful was the prospect. Far as the eye could reach, in a north and north-easterly direction, were to be seen fields of corn and grain, with new mown grass-land, and potato flats, farm-houses, barns, and orchards—together with a suitable proportion of wood-land, all beautifully interspersed; and a number of ponds of water, in different places, and of different forms and sizes—some of them containing small islands, which added to the beauty of the scenery. The little village at Wakefield corner, which was about three miles distant, seemed to be almost under our feet; and with friend H.'s spy-glass, we could see the people at work in their gardens, weeding vegetables, picking cherries, gathering flowers, &c. But not one of our number had the faculty that the old lady possessed, who, in the time of the Revolution, in looking through a spy-glass at the French fleet, brought the Frenchmen so near, that she could hear them chatter; so we had to be content with ignorance of their conversation.
South-westerly might be seen Cropple-crown Mountain; and beyond it, Merry-meeting Pond, where, I have been told, Elder Randall, the father of the Free-will Baptist denomination, first administered the ordinance of Baptism. West, might be seen Tumble-down-dick Mountain; and north, the Ossipee Mountains; and far north, might be seen the White Mountains of New Hampshire, whose snow-crowned summits seemed to reach the very skies.
The prospect in the other directions was not so grand, although it was beautiful—so I will leave it, and take the shortest route, with my companions, with the baskets and pails of berries, to the house of friend H. On our way, we stopped to view the lot of rock maples, which, with some little labor, afforded a sufficient supply of sugar for the family of friend H., and we promised that in the season of sugar-making the next spring, we would make it convenient to visit the place, and witness the process of making maple-sugar.
Our descent from the mountain was by a different path—our friends having assured us, that although our route would be farther, we should find it more pleasant; and truly we did—for the pathway was not so rough as the one in which we travelled in the morning. And besides, we had the pleasure of walking over the farm of the good Quaker, and of hearing from his own lips many interesting circumstances of his life.
The country, he told us, was quite a wilderness when he first took up his abode on the mountain; and bears, he said, were as plenty as woodchucks, and destroyed much of his corn. He was a bachelor, and lived alone for a number of years after he first engaged in clearing his land. His habitation was between two huge rocks, at about seventy rods from the place where he afterwards built his house.—He showed us this ancient abode of his; it was in the midst of an old orchard. It appeared as if the rocks had been originally one; but by some convulsion of nature it had been sundered, midway, from top to bottom. The back part of this dwelling was a rock wall, in which there was a fire-place and an oven. The front was built of logs, with an aperture for a door-way; and the roof was made of saplings and bark. In this rude dwelling, friend H. dressed his food, and ate it; and here, on a bed of straw, he spent his lonely nights. A small window in the rock wall admitted the light by day; and by night, his solitary dwelling was illuminated with a pitch-pine torch.