Gibbs’ Falls, also near the hotel, are forty feet in height, divided by a rocky cliff into two parts. They were named in honor of a former landlord of the house.
Beecher’s Cascade, a half mile distant, may have had some other name, but it is now lost in the distinction given it by a baptism experienced by the eminent divine, not according to the method of Plymouth Church, but more after the Roger Williams standard, and wholly involuntary.
CRAWFORD HOUSE, WHITE MOUNTAIN NOTCH.
Mount Willard, sometimes called Mount Tom, or Tom Willard, although not of great altitude, furnishes an excellent point of observation from its summit, which is reached by a comfortable carriage ride. The
view is highly praised by good judges, Anthony Trollope declaring it unequaled in all the classic Rhineland. Standing at the very gate of the Notch, it commands an excellent view of the chasm, and the different mountains which encompass it, together with a splendid prospect to the west and north.
HERMIT’S POOL, FRANCONIA NOTCH.
Silver Cascade and the Flume Cascade are two of the attractions of the locality, which leap down the sides of Mount Webster in glorious disorder, now spreading out over a rocky bed in a thin sheet of silver, gathering again in some pool for a plunge over a precipice, breaking into spray in the descent, then running swiftly in a narrow channel as if gathering momentum for another grand leap, and so laughing, singing and dancing on its way, to join the Saco in its noisy pilgrimage to the sea.
The Willey House, memorable as the scene of the disaster known in history as the “Willey Slide,” is located under the steep acclivity of Mount Willey, which rises some 2,000 feet above the house. Opposite are the frowning cliffs of Mount Webster, with the Saco River flowing near. The story of the fearful calamity is familiar, but its repetition may be of interest to our readers. On the night of August 28, 1826, a terrible storm occurred, swelling the brooklets into angry torrents, and loosening the soil from its hold on the rocky acclivity of Mount Willey, sending it down the mountain side with a fearful roar, threatening destruction to everything in its path. Mr. Willey, his wife, five children, and two hired men, comprised the inmates of the house; and it is supposed that they became frightened and fled from the house to escape the peril, and rushed into the very jaws of death, being overwhelmed in the avalanche, not one escaping to tell the tale. The faithful house-dog, however, appeared at Conway, and endeavored to give intelligence of what had happened by all the resources of his power of communication. The bodies of six of the victims were recovered, but three of the children found permanent burial in the debris. The saddest feature of the calamity is the fact that had they remained in the house no harm would have befallen them, as a large rock at the back of the house divided the slide, and sent it by on either side, leaving the building untouched. The scarred side of the mountain still shows the track of the avalanche, only enough soil being left to support a growth of white birches.