So old are we; so young is it.
We were thus entering the State of New Hampshire on the bosom of
the flood formed by the tribute of its innumerable valleys. The
river was the only key which could unlock its maze, presenting
its hills and valleys, its lakes and streams, in their natural
order and position. The MERRIMACK, or Sturgeon River, is formed
by the confluence of the Pemigewasset, which rises near the Notch
of the White Mountains, and the Winnipiseogee, which drains the
lake of the same name, signifying "The Smile of the Great
Spirit." From their junction it runs south seventy-eight miles to
Massachusetts, and thence east thirty-five miles to the sea. I
have traced its stream from where it bubbles out of the rocks of
the White Mountains above the clouds, to where it is lost amid
the salt billows of the ocean on Plum Island beach. At first it
comes on murmuring to itself by the base of stately and retired
mountains, through moist primitive woods whose juices it
receives, where the bear still drinks it, and the cabins of
settlers are far between, and there are few to cross its stream;
enjoying in solitude its cascades still unknown to fame; by long
ranges of mountains of Sandwich and of Squam, slumbering like
tumuli of Titans, with the peaks of Moosehillock, the Haystack,
and Kearsarge reflected in its waters; where the maple and the
raspberry, those lovers of the hills, flourish amid temperate
dews;--flowing long and full of meaning, but untranslatable as
its name Pemigewasset, by many a pastured Pelion and Ossa, where
unnamed muses haunt, tended by Oreads, Dryads, Naiads, and
receiving the tribute of many an untasted Hippocrene.
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