Mr. and Mrs. North were delighted with the proposal. Preparations were immediately commenced, and at the appointed time, they all set out on their excursion. We shall not travel with them. Suffice it to say, that on the evening of the second day after their departure, they arrived at Mrs. O——'s hotel, in Fryburg. Mr. Lawrence was rather impatient, as the journey might have been performed in much less time. But short stages, and long rests were necessary for Mrs. North—at least she said so—and Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence could not with propriety drive on before them.
On the morning after their arrival, on looking about them, the ladies were both in raptures at the scenery around. They had seen nothing like it before. But we will accompany them to the little Jockey-Cap mountain, which lies not far from a mile from Mrs. O——'s, which they ascended in the afternoon, and hear what they say of it there.
"This little mountain is not difficult of ascent," said Mr. Lawrence, when they had attained its summit—"yet it is rather wearisome, making ones way through the shrub-oaks—so do you, my dear Ellen, and Mrs. North, rest awhile on this table of granite, and amuse yourselves by picking out some of the well-defined garnets that are imbedded in the rock. When you are rested, you may come with us toward the verge of the precipice, and view the scenery around."
In a few minutes the ladies got over their fatigue,—and joined their husbands to enjoy the prospect.
"What is the name of this beautiful sheet of water on our left, Mr. Lawrence?" asked Mrs. North.
"It is called 'Lovell's pond,'" replied Mr. Lawrence. "It was on the margin of this peaceful lake, as it should be called, that Capt. Lovell and his company of militia, met Pangus, the Indian Sachem, at the head of a part of his tribe, prepared for deadly conflict. In Lovell's company was a man named John Chamberlain. His rifle, as well as that of Pangus, had become foul from frequent firing. Standing but a few paces apart, each cleaned his rifle at the pond—and each commenced loading at the same moment,—while each watched the motions of the other with the most intense interest—knowing that he that was first ready to discharge his rifle, would undoubtedly be sole survivor. The rifle of Chamberlain was so much worn, that in being loaded, it primed itself. This circumstance decided the fate of the Indian Chief—he fell."1
1 After the "fight" at Lovell's pond, the remains of the Pigwacket tribe of Indians, left the woods and lakes of New Hampshire and Maine, for the broader waters and deeper forests of Canada. In 1777, Chamberlain had become an old grey-headed man,—living alone, and laboring in a saw mill to support himself. He was one evening informed that a young Indian had appeared in the Village, with rifle, wampum belt and tomahawk, having the noble bearing of old Pangus, the Sachem. Chamberlain instantly took the alarm; but old as he was, was not intimidated. Well knowing the Indian character and habits, about the dusk of the evening he put his mill in rapid motion, raised his coat as a "decoy"—and retired to a short distance to watch what might follow. In a short time he witnessed the cautious approach of the savage, who repeatedly advanced and receded, ere he aimed his rifle at the coat. As soon as he had fired, and raised himself to his full height, (which was above six feet) to ascertain the effect of his aim, Chamberlain discharged the same rifle that had taken the life of the Sachem. As the bullet went through his heart, young Pangus sprung some feet in the air, and fell lifeless in the stream below.
"O, the ever wakeful Providence of our Heavenly Father," whispered Mrs. Lawrence.
"The beautiful swell of land, directly in front of us, and clothed with verdure to its summit, is Starkes-hill," said Mr. Lawrence; "that on our right, just back of the village, is Kearsarge mountain."
"And those beyond, piled one upon another, in seemingly endless succession—far—far as the eye can reach," cried Mrs. Lawrence, "are the celebrated white mountains of New-Hampshire. O, how sublime! how grand! how awful! And Mount Washington raises its towering head far above the others, as if to overlook, and guard them all. What majesty is here!—and how elevating to the soul, to view such specimens of our Creator's workmanship!"