years ago a large family dwelt here. One night they were aroused from sleep by a horrible noise and fall, and which was evidently the crash of an avalanche, descending from the mountain in the direction of the house and which would overwhelm it. The family rushed out in the dark night to find a place where they believed they might escape the danger. But the avalanche took precisely that direction, and overwhelmed the whole fugitive family, consisting of nine persons. Hawthorne has taken this tragical incident as the subject of one of his loveliest tales,—“The Ambitious Guest.”
It is now the custom to ascend the mountain from which the avalanche fell, to obtain from its top a view of the valley. And just now has a travelling wagon, drawn by six horses, and conveying from twenty to thirty persons, driven at full speed from the hotel up the mountain. Mrs. S. and I declined to join the party, as I have also declined to ascend Mount Washington, which is done on horseback, and with incredible difficulty, in order to see—frequently nothing, and under the most favourable circumstances, that is if there are no clouds—a confused view of land and water.
The whole of this mountain district is very wild, and there is scarcely a dwelling to be seen, excepting the hotels for travellers. It is, however, overflowing with noisy unquiet company, who do not seem to understand any other mode of enjoying nature than talking, laughing, eating, drinking, and all kinds of noisy pleasures. They post up the mountain laughing at full gallop, and come down again at full gallop. Champagne corks fly about at the hotels, gentlemen sit and play at cards in the middle of the day, and ladies talk about dressmakers and fashions. How unlike is this thoughtless life to that of nature, where the clouds come down as if to converse with the mountain, sometimes speeding over them like airy dragons, sometimes floating around them caressingly
