Monadnock Mountain and its Surroundings

In Southern Cheshire

The mountains appear

Scattered around with liberal hand,

            But one looms up tall

            Far above them all

And long since was christened the Grand.

            If the one called the “Gaps,”

            Stood alone, perhaps,

It might, then, appear rather tall,

            But standing near by

            Monadnock so high,

It seems – hardly a mountain at all.

            The Grand Monadnock

            Presents a bald rock

To the eye of distant beholders,

            But approach and see,

            Large fissures there be,

Small caverns, great ledges and boulders.

            Half way up its side,

            In a stage you ride,

And there is a well-kept Hotel;

            The rest of the way

            Is so good you may

Walk up to the top very well.

            And when you there stand,

            With spy glass in hand,

And glance at the scene as a whole;

            What, at first, surprises,

            The horizon rises,

And you seem to stand in a bowl!

            Three states show high mountains,

            In which are the fountains,

To make up big streams from small rills –

            These, ocean-ward flowing,

            Are checked in their going,

To turn many wheels in big mills.

            Lakes – ponds – great and small,

            Some two score in all,

Detached or together in masses,

            Show their mirror faces

            In various places: --

Dame Nature’s superb looking-glasses.

            Farm buildings are seen,

            Beside or between

Highways – among trees, rather coy;

            Villages appear

            Remote and quite near –

Perhaps cast a stone down to Troy!

            If Troy take amiss,

            Attention like this: --

A quarter left face! trumpet take,

            And blow a loud blast

            Clanging sharp and fast,

And long sleeping Jaffrey awake!

            Sixty years ago,

            Old people well know,

In Jaffrey much business was done,

            It was the first place

            Near the mountain’s base,

And through it mail stages were run.

            And why not now strive

            To business revive?

Behold the fine MINERAL SPRING!

            Never stops nor freezes—

            Rains on as it pleases

But might be built up a BIG THING!

            Take a sip of water

            As invalids ought to,

And then sniffs of pure mountain air,

            Would be very sure

            All their ills to cure,

And make them look healthy and fair.

            Beyond the State Line,

            Villages look fine:

So many I can’t stop to name them;

            But standing up here,

            Some do look so near,

New Hampshire might seemingly claim them.

            But stated in brief,

            Winchendon is chief

Though Gardner approaches quite near,

            But as to the rest,

            If they do their best,

They long may remain in the rear.

            Rindge village is still

            Hid behind wood-hill,

But some people outside will venture;

            So Blakeville crops out,

            Young, hearty and stout

And soon may eclipse the old center.

            East Jaffrey, so grown,

            Is now hardly known,

And Bascom’s new mill has much done it,

            But that splendid mill,

            At present stands still,

Because he is too ill to run it.

            Modern Peterborough

            Began its work thorough,

And built in a valley quite lowly,

            Mills, houses and shops

            Now grades and out-crops,

And creeps up the hills sure but slowly.

            But all these three places,

            Shall quicken their paces,

Now they hear the Steam snorting charger.

            How much they will grow,

            Time only can show,

But surely they will be much larger.

            And now, a view take

            Of Dublin clear lake;

Whose waters the wrong side ran out!

            See men in a boat,

            On its waters float,

Hauling in the fine mountain trout.

            The church on the hill,

            Loomed grandly until

Stern Improvement got hold of that,

            And built it anew

            From steeple to pew

And placed it down East on the FLAT.

            The Dublin long street,

            In length can’t be beat,

This side of the Main Street in Keene; -

            It is quite a pity

            We can’t see that – city?

Beech Hill pokes its nose in between!

            Beyond the North hill,

            Is young Harrisville;-

Part of two towns made into one;

            It was a good move,

            All things to improve,

That had been so firmly begun.

            And a “right smart chance”

            It has to advance:-

For where is so good water power?

            And mill below mill

            The valley might fill,

Undisturbed by tempest or shower.

            For water they’d take

            For a long deep lake,

And stands upon ledges of rocks:-

            Perhaps an earthquake

            Might give them a shake

Should it come to tremendous shocks!

            But look at the West;

            Ah! Gone like the rest!

Relentless Improvement deplore!

            Marlboro high steeple

            Seen far by the people,

Will be seen by mortals no more!

            O could I persuade

            These towns of high grade

To build soldiers’ monuments, where

            Tall steeples have stood,

            Or high ground as good,

And want of high steeples repair.

            Fitzwilliam and Troy

            Seem now to enjoy

A fair state of permanent peace;

            Though once they collided

            Have long since decided

The “Battle of Highways” should cease.

            Great highways, not needed,

            By Rail superseded,

Permit an attention to tillage;-

            Selling stone and shoddy,

            Wooden Ware and – toddy!

And each has built a fine village.

            The last stanza back

            May truth somewhat lack,

For who lest foul grog fair places mar!

            None should give a hint

            If there’s nothing in’t—

Viz:--Taking a DROP at the BAR!

            But pray who would think

            A sane man could drink

The liquor kept in a grog shop:--

            In cases most rare,

            Some bold ones may dare,

And some, for news only, may stop!

            Now many Rail Roads,

            Move people and loads;-

On either hand, steam cars are going;

            Steam and smoke combined

            Stream far out behind,

And steam horses puffing and blowing.

                           ____

            If those down below

            Deem this no GREAT SHOW

Of landscapes attractive and bold;--

            Come up Here! And stand,

            With me view the land,

And see that not HALF has been TOLD!

            And now to this end,

            Our vision extend;

Let our glasses take a long sweep;

            And note as we pass,

            Things only first class,

And of these, a brief  record keep.

            So “lift up our eyes,”

            One can see who tries;

For there is no vapor or smoke;-

            Perhaps it is best,

            To begin Southwest,

And there note, Mount Tom and Holyoke.

            The long ridge out West,

            Is Green Mountain crest;-

On Mansfield’s high peak one would shiver!

            Down this side Ascutney,

            Which seems to be put nigh

Into – the Connecticut river!

            O, see Camel’s Rump!

            Sometimes is called “Hump,”

And then again called “Camel’s Back,”

            And then “Nose and Chin,”

            It seems most a sin,

Such fine peaks should a fixed name lack!

            Firm, steady Vermont

            Is very well on’t

For a prominent STIFF BACK BONE;

            It may some impede

            Improvements they need,

Better still, than States that have none.

            Along the wide North,

            White Mountains gleam forth,

But they are extensive and large;

            But jostle the sight

            Along to the right,

And see there is room for Kearsarge.

            At Northeast look down,

            On high-hill Goffstown;

And see the “Twin Mountains” together;

            And thus, hand in hand,

            They firmly will stand,

In spite of  rude blasts and rough weather.

            Long line of high hills

            The Eastern sky fills;

Ending, near South, with Wachusett;-

            The circle complete,

            I now my repeat,

Let those linger still who will choose it.

            Now, twice boxed the compass,

            Perhaps made a rumpus,

With some fastidious exquisites;-

            What more claims attention,

            Would tire not to mention;

So I leave it for others’ visits.

            Multitudes now seek

            The Mountain’s high peak;

And many their visits renew;

            And find, at each time,

            Senses new and sublime.

As Nature’s broad features they view.

            It is, at present,

            Easy and pleasant,

To climb up so high in the air;

            We may not, thus far,

            See heaven’s gate ajar,

But ‘twill make us strive to be there.

            Mrs. Grundy has noted,

            Girls easier courted

Up here, where the scenes have a charm:

            In climbing the distance,

            They need some assistance,

And gratefully take a beau’s arm.

            All this, very well:

            And now she may tell,

What young folks are anxious to know,

            If matches so high,

            Made up in the sky,

Are better than those made below.

            Inquisitive men,

            Remain, now and then,

On the summit during the night;

            And take a night glace

            At the broad expanse,

And note all the wonders in sight.

            The very North Pole,

            Or, Symmes’ big Hole,

They may not see, though they see far;

            But, during the night,

            If the sky is bright,

They can see the real NORTH STAR!

            They surely, can see

            Sun rise from the sea,

And dart forth its rays as ‘tis wont;

            And hills shadows cast,

            Long and short or vast;-

Monadnock’s extends to Vermont!

            But, most people say,

            Night visits don’t pay;-

Bare rocks are not soft to the weary;-

            The chilly wind blows—

            You feel almost froze,

And night wears away slow and dreary.

            Years ago, a shanty,

            In size rather scanty,

Was built up quite near to the top:

            A player, full middling

            Performed all the fiddling

For young folks to have a grand “HOP.”

            This shanty well stood

            Secure from the flood;

But not quite so safe from the blast;

            For whirlwind at length,

            Put forth all its strength,

And tore it to atoms at last!

            _______

            Within fifty years,

            It fully appears,

Busy man has much changed the scene;--

            On every hand

            Is much more clear’d land;-

Good buildings instead of the mean,

            This stripping the land,

            On every hand,

Of its trees, is not to my taste;

            And then, without trees,

            The land, by degrees,

Would become a dry, barren waste.

            Villages are more

            Than ever before,

And most of the trebled at least;

            And factories, many,

            Where there was not any,

And business is vastly increased.

            But mountain, adieu!

            No more shall I view

The earth, from the spot where I stand;-

            Half century hense,

            Some Bard of keen sense

May take a broad glance at the land.

            And fully recount

            The scenes round the Mount

Made or moulded by human hand;

            But this lofty Pile,

            Unchanged all the while,

Will still be MONADNOCK the GRAND!

Amos Andrew Parker (circa 1870)