1884 numbers of the Bay state monthlyBe the first and subjects of first 10 volumes and List of por.

The Granite monthly, a New Hampshire magazine, devoted to literature, history, and state progress (Volume 53) online

. (page 39 of 57)
Online Library1884 numbers of the Bay state monthlyBe the first and subjects of first 10 volumes and List of porThe Granite monthly, a New Hampshire magazine, devoted to literature, history, and state progress (Volume 53) → online text (page 39 of 57)
Font size
QR-code for this ebook


Company, in The Cotter's Saturday
Ni^ht and Tom ( )' Shanter.

The entertainment course for 1920-
1921, proved highly enjoyable and
consisted of the following:

October 21 — -All American Day,
Dr. and Mrs
Parker and four musicians

November 9 — Daddy Grobecker
and His Swiss Yodlers.

December 17 — Crawford Adams
Company. Crawford Adams, "The
Wizard of the Violin." Miss Ethel
Hinton, Reader, "The Girl of Many
Dialects." Miss Nan Synott, Solo
Pianist and Accompanist.

February 28— The Rainbow Girls.
Bertha Mc Donough, Entertainer;
Olga Cappuccio, Violinist; Marion
Chase, Pianist.

March 7 — The Bostonia Sextette
Club. C. L. Staats, Director; Miss
Louise Reynolds, Soprano.



George Lawrence



THE WONOLANCET CLUB



375



The home of the Wonolancet Club
is on the northwest corner of State
and Pleasant streets, a spacious, at-
tractive brick building of Colonial
style, two and a half stories high and
adorned in front with imposing Cor-
inthian columns. It appeals to the pas-
ser-by as an ideal club house and this
impression is borne out by every da-
tail of its construction and arrange-
ment of the rooms.

As one enters from State street, a
spacious lounging room invites, with




Herbert W. Odlin, Secretary.

comfortable leather chairs, rich art
squares and oil paintings on the walls.
To the right is the card room and just
beyond, the beautifully appointed li-
brary, bespeaking quiet and culture.
Opening out of the lounge are the
office, the parlor, the music and coat
rooms. The well lighted, spacious
billiard and pool rooms are in the
basement.

On the second floor are the assem-
bly hall, dining hall and ladies' room
and on the third floor is the kitchen.
With these facilities and its central
location, the club is in a position to



carry out a comprehensive and con-
structive work that will mean much
to Concord as the years come and go.

The club has been exceedingly for-
tunate from the start in the able and
conscientious officers who have guid-
ed its affairs.

At the first meeting, May 12, 1891,
Frank W. Rollins served as chairman
and Arthur H. Chase was secretary.

June 6, 1891, the organization was
effected with the election of the fol-
lowing officers :

Officers

President, F. W. Rollins ; Secre-
tary, A. Ff. Chase; treasurer, H. H.
Dudley; 1st. vice president, Francis
L. Abbott; 2nd. vice president, Henry
W. Stevens ; directors, J. F. Webster,
Wm. F. Thayer, E. J. Hill, J. Francis
Bothfield, C. H. Day, George L.
Sargent.

1892— President, F. W. Rollins;
1st vice president, B. C. White; 2nd.
vice president, PL W. Stevens; sec-
retary, A. H. Chase; treasurer, H. H.
Dudley.

1893 and 1894— President, John F.
Webster; 1st. vice president, H. W.
Stevens; 2nd. vice president, B. C.
White ; secretary, O. G. Plammond ;
treasurer, Frank P. Quimby.

1895— President, John F. Web-
ster; 1st. vice president, H. W.
Stevens; 2nd. vice president, J. Clare
Derby ; secretary, O. G. Hammond ;
treasurer, F. P. Quimby.

1896 — The same officers except
Fred A. Colton became secretary.

1897, 1898 and 1899— President, J.
F. Webster; 1st. vice president. J.
Clare Derby; 2nd. vice president, H.
H. Dudley; secretary, F. A. Colton;
treasurer, John PI. Couch.

1900— President, H. H. Dudley;
1st. vice president, George D. Wal-
don ; 2nd. vice president, Henry W.
Stevens; secretary, F. A. Colton;
treasurer, John H. Couch.

1901 and 1902— President, H. H.
Dudley; 1st. vice president, Charles
L. Gilmore ; 2nd. vice president, A.



376



THE GRANITE MONTHLY



Byron Batchekler ; secretary, F. A.
Colton ; treasurer, J. H. Couch.

1903— President H. G. Sargent;
1st. vice president, A. B. Batchekler;
2nd.vice president, Frank E. Brown;
secretary, F. A. Colton; treasurer J.
H. Couch.

1904 — President, Harry G. Sar-
gent; 1st. vice president, F. P.
Quimby; 2nd. vice president, Howard
F. Hill; secretary, F. A. Colton;
treasurer, Frank E. Shepherd.

1905— President, Frank S. Street-




Harold E. Hilton, Treasurer.

er ; 1st. vice president. A. H. Britton ;
2nd. vice president, David D. Taylor ;
secretary, F. A. Colton ; treasurer. F.
E. Shepherd.

1906 — President, F. S. Streeter ;
1st. vice president, D. E. Sullivan;
2nd. vice president, Solon A. Carter ;
secretary, F. A. Colton ; treasurer,
Fred L. Dole.

1907— President, F. S. Streeter;
1st. vice president, E. N. Pearson;
2nd. vice president, Isaac Hill;
secretary, F. A. Colton ; treasurer, F.
L. Dole.

1908 and 1909— President, F. S.



Streeter; 1st. vice president, Josiah
E. Fernald ; 2nd. vice president, Wm.
Ray; secretary, F. A. Colton; treas-
urer, H. H. Dudley.

1910 and 1911— President, F. S.
Streeter; 1st. vice president, Ferdi-
nand A. Stillings ; 2nd. vice president,
Willis D. Thompson ; secretary, F. A.
Colton; treasurer, H. H. Dudley.

1912 — President, F. S. Streeter;
1st. vice president, E. M. Willis; 2nd.
vice president, Wm. J. Ahern; secre-
tary, F. A. Colton; treasurer, H. H.
Dudley.

1913 — President, F. S. Streeter;
1st. vice president, John M. Mitchell;
2nd. vice president, Henry W. Stev-
ens ; secretary, F. A. Colton ; treas-
urer, H. H. Dudley.

1914— President! F. S. Streeter;
1st. vice president, Bennett Batch-
der; 2nd. vice president, A. B. Cross;
secretary, Arthur L. Willis ; treasur-
er, H. H. Dudley.

1915— President, F. S. Streeter;
1st. vice president, R. E. Walker;
2nd. vice president, B. C. White;
secretary, A. L. Willis; treasu er, H.
H. Dudley.

1916— President, F. S. Streeter;
1st. vice president, B. C. White; 2nd.
vice president, Charles A. Wing; sec-
retary, A. L. Willis; treasurer, H. H.
Dudley.

1917— President, F. S. Streeter;
1st. vice president, Charles A. Wing;
2nd. vice president, Irving A. Watson
secretary, H. W. Odlin; treasurer,
H. H. Dudley.

1918— President, F. S. Streeter;
1st. vice preident, Irving A. Watson;
2nd. vice president, Harold H. Blake;
secretary, H. W. Odlin; treasurer,
H. H. Dudley.

1919— President, F. S. Streeter;
1st. vice president, H. H. Blake; 2nd.
vice president, E. P. Roberts; secre-
tary, H. W. Odlin; treasurer, H. H.
Dudley.

1920— President, F. S. Streeter;
1st. vice president, E. N. Pearson;
2nd. vice president, Henry E. Cham-



THE WONOLANCET CLUB



377



berlain; secretary, H. W. Odlin ;
treasurer, H. H. Dudley.

1921— President, Harry H. Dudley
1st. vice president, Henry E. Cham-
berlain; 2nd. vice president, Arthur
H. Britton ; secretary, H. W. Odlin;
treasurer, Harold E. Hilton.

Geo. D. Waldron was House Man-
ager from 1901 until his death and
Harry G. Emmons succeeded him.

The directors for the ensuing year
are ; Patrick J. Bolger, Otis G. Ham-
mond, George H. Rolfe, Frank E.



Wadleigh, Wm. T. Bell and Paul Du-
Bois.

The admission committee com-
prises Isaac Hill, Henry W. Mc-
Farland, Fred E. Everett, Edward S.
Wells, George W. Griffin, Wm. A.
Stone, Albert J. Brown, Ira E. Evans,
Roy W. Eraser.

The nominating committee is Hen-
ry J. Putnam, Harry L. Alexander,
John P. George, Thomas G. Norris
and Fred A. Colton.



SEPTEMBER

By Perley R. Bugbee
(Hanover)

Crisp and shorter are the days

While the nights are growing long

O'er earth there's a smoky haze

Birds have flown south with their song.

Sunny days with yellow light
When hills are veiled in a mist.
Autumn's harvest moon shines bright
While flowers by the frosts are kissed.



Acorns from the oaks are falling
The leaves are yellow and red.
Chipmunks to chipmunks are calling
Joyful thanks for their winter's bread.

By the wood's edge are asters blue
Around the elm, the woodbine's red,
The grapes are of a purplish hue,
Green summer is almost dead.



MORE QUILLS THAN NOSES
OR MOUNTAINEERING UNDER DIFFICULTIES.



By Gilbert Henry Knowles.



For more than a month, Lem and
I had had our minds set on climbing
Alt. Moosilauke. The idea of doing
this little stunt, once inside of our
heads, hehaved as a seed sown in a
fertile field. As the seed develops
into a plant, so the little idea of
climbing a mountain for the first
time grew into a living passion.
Finally there came a day when we
could wait no longer.

"We'll go to-night," exclaimed
Lem with decision.

"To-night !" I rejoined.

We were working as guides at
Lost River that summer, and could
not get away until five o'clock. All
through the day the sky remained
clear and blue. About four o'clock
light clouds began to gather in the
west and while it did not grow hazy,
the clouds had, before we started
away, formed themselves into what
is termed a "mackerel sky." We
were advised not to go that day.
The weather was not favorable, they
told us.

The sign of bad weather is usually
enough to "queer" a mountain trip
for me now-a-days, but then it was
different. We were going to stay
over night on the mountain and it
was the sunrise that we wanted
most ; there was plenty of time for
the sky to clear before morning ; and
we were simply bound not to give
up, any how, when our plans were so
well made.

Now this was our first climb and
possibly some of my readers will be
interested to know how we fitted our-
selves out with food, clothing, etc.
We had plenty of advice (Oh! yes!)
but we weighed it all and took it at
its true value, together with a little
common sense of our own. We were
going to be gone only one night, re-



turning quite early the next morn-
ing. Of course the main thing was
blankets, of which we took two, each.
They were made into long rolls and
the rolls were doubled, and the ends
tied together, so that they could be
carried quite easily over one shoul-
der. We each, as I remember, had
some sort of rain coat wrapped up in
our blankets, and we had sweaters.
Lem wore woolen socks and medium
weight, pliable work shoes. I wore
woolen socks and heavy, rubber soled
canvas shoes. Lem's shoes were the
best. We had two cakes of whole-
some sweet chocolate in each of our
lunch bags, together with sandwiches,
doughnuts, etc., given us by the very
kind lady who was cook. To all
this equipment was added a drinking
cup.

Of all things, don't forget the little tin

cup, my friend;
And then when high on the mountain's

breast,
At the bubbling spring you pause to

rest,
Nature's magic drink, your weary soul

will mend.

We finally started away, with our
friends waving and laughing at us,
and assuring us there would be no
views. But that didn't worry us; we
were very happy. Actually, we were
going to the very top of Mt. Moosi-
lauke.

I feel quite sure that at the time at
which I write, only a comparatively
small number of hikers in the White
Mountains had ascended Moosilauke
by the Beaver Brook trail. The trail
starts at a point about half a mile
above the Reservation buildings on
the Lost River road which connects
North Woodstock and Easton. It is
not an easy trail, but is a most inter-



MORE QUILLS THAN NOSES



379



eating one. It is the one by which
Lem and I climbed Moosilauke for
the first time.

Leaving the road, the trail rambles
over comparatively level ground for
about a quarter of a mile, then it
begins to ascend quite abruptly. The
woods were very still on the night
Lem and 1 started our trip, save for
the glad notes of the White Throat
and now and then the snapping of
breaking twigs.

We had not gone far when we
heard running water. Conjing to a
place where an abandoned logging-
road leads off to the left and the trail
goes to the right, we stopped, for
both of us were breathing hard. We
listened; the sound of running water
was everywhere around us. From
the right came the roar of the Beaver
Brook Cascades, loud yet sweet and
appealing. From the left, not quite
as distinctly, could be heard the
rumble of the falls on Moosilauke
brook. We were between two dis-
tinct yet neighborly streams, pouring
violently down over the foot-hills of
the mountain. The waters from
Beaver brook, which becomes the
Wild Ammonoosuc river, flow toward
Wildwood and finally empty into the
larger Ammonoosuc, thence to the
Connecticut. The waters of Moosi-
lauke brook play hide and seek among
the Lost River caverns, empty into
the Pemigewasset at North Wood-
stock, thence to the Merrimack.

Indeed, this was very interesting.
Two friendly little mountain streams,
leading out in opposite directions and
soon to be miles and miles part, but
ultimately both would enter the great
Atlantic. It was like Lem and me;
there we were together having the
time of our lives, and in only a few
months we would be separated by the
distance that stretches between the
White Mountains and the Great
Lakes. Still in the far future, per-
haps we, like the waters of the two
streams, would meet again. It is one
of the ways of the world.



Soon we reached Beaver brook and
beheld the beautiful Cascades, be-
side which we were to ascend.
The most difficult part of the trail is
up the Cascades, but this also is the
most picturesque part. For nearly a
mile the trail follows this wonderful
series of water falls. There is some-
thing very friendly about little water
falls, and if one has time, he can read
in Beaver brook Cascades some of
the profoundest secrets of life.
There are the broad places, the nar-
row, perpendicular plunges, little
fountains caused by curious water-
carving in the ledge, which forms the
stream bed ; the white, foamy places
and darker places over which shadows
are cast.

"This is worth the whole trip," said
Lem, "I'm glad we didn't give up."

And just then we reached out and
let our tin cups be filled with the
purest of beverages, mountain spring
water. The cups were emptied at
our lips and instantly we were filled
with rapture ; imagination was in our
minds, our eyes saw as they had
never seen before. In the ripple of
the water and in the notes of the
White Throat our ears heard the
story of the limberlost, our hearts
were whispering in friendship, and as
it seemed, the spirit of the heavens
had descended upon our souls.
Truly, there is one thing of which I
am certain ; the inspiration which
came to me as we stood beside the
Cascades that night kindled within
the fire which would send me hiking
over many a mountain in the days to
come ; it linked me forever with that
group of sight-seeing people known
by the simple title, pedestrians.

Now we were clutching the
branches, one after another, to aid us
in creeping up a ledge. Next we
were cautiously feeling our way along
a decaying ladder. Soon we came to
the old log bridge that spans the
stream. W T e shifted our blankets
from one shoulder to the other and
looked back across the notch from



380



THE GRANITE MONTHLY



whence we had come. It was grow-
ing cloudy, but we could see the Fran-
conia peaks with Alt. Lafayette ris-
ing in its grandeur above all the
others. Then there was Kinsman
and Wolf and in another direction,
Mt. Osceola and the Waterville
Range. We were the monarchs of
all we surveyed.

Resuming our journey we shortly
passed Camp 14, long abandoned,
and the trail became much easier.
After it leaves the brook the path
follows a series of logging roads to
within a possible mile and a half of
the Summit. Up we went, stopping
now and then to enjoy backward
views ; but we climbed very rapidly
considering that we were beginners.
Lem and I desired to reach the Sum-
mit before dark.

Almost before we knew it we had
moved around the cone of Mt. Blue,
and could no longer get views toward
the Franconia region. The trail took
us through a grove of spruce and fir.
Shadows were playing among the
trees and the clouds were getting
thicker and thicker over head. On
we went ; the trees getting smaller
and smaller at every turn, and then
we got into scrub fir and knew that
we were near the top. We could
have seen the Tip-Top House some
time before we reached it, if the sky
had been clear.

Clouds were settling all about, and
we hurried as fast as we could. Com-
ing to a barren place, I told Lem
that I could see the house just
ahead through the fog and coming
darkness. We made for it, but it
was only the barn. The house was
near by but could not be seen until
one was right on to it, because the
cloud hung so heavily over the moun-
tain. The wind was blowing hard
and we heard the rattling of the irons
which helped to hold the house to
the rocks.

Now the Tip-Top House was clos-
ed that season, which means that no
one stayed there to look after the



public. The public looked after it-
self. There was a single window
from which the shutter had been re-
moved and the window itself was
sadly broken.

"Shall we go in?" said I.

"Wait," was the answer.

We walked all around the build-
ing. We found the front door
(boarded up) and frowned when we
saw the many initials carved on the
boarding by thoughtless imps. It
was getting to be cold. The wind
howled and the chains went, "rack-er-
rakcr-er-rack." Lem and I were
happy though. On reaching the sum-
mit and taking good deep breaths we
both woke up to the fact that we
had never felt so "p e PPy" * n our
lives. Finally it was decided to go
into the house by way of the broken
window. We did not wish to break
in, but it did not seem altogether
wrong to stoop and pass through an
opening which someone else had
made. Lem hesitated longer than I
did, but he came "around" after a
fashion and we entered by the broken
window. Any way we couldn't sleep
in that cloud without some shelter,
and it was getting pretty dark.

Did I mention candles? Well, you
know boys have a lot of room in theii
pockets and candles was one of the
many things we had stuffed in ours.
So once inside the house we turned on
the lights. We were in what had
been the big dining room. It was
pitiful to see ; the floor was warped
and covered with broken glass and
dishes, the walls were stained either
by water that had leaked in, or by the
melting of snow which had blown in
during the colder seasons. There
were several mattresses on the floor,
probably dragged down stairs by pre-
vious callers. The chairs and tables
were weather-worn and everything
was "topsy-turvy." There was the
remains of a croquet set here and
there upon the floor. Also, Lem call-
ed my attention to several hundreds
of hedge-hog quills.



MORE QUILLS THAN NOSES



381



We explored the interior of the
house from kitchen to garret, and
finally decided that the beautiful din-
ing room was the best place to sleep.
Indeed there were good beds and
mattresses in many of the up-stairs
chambers, but the windows were
boarded up and we might not wake
up in time in the morning. It was
musty too, and Lem said the air was
"rotten" to breathe and that we bet-
ter be down where the window was
out. I agreed. (I haven't told Lem
how I slept in one of the chambers
the next year under similiar condi-
tions) and we went back to our
beautiful dining room. We got out
our sandwiches and chocolate and,
believe me, there was a real feast in
the old house for once !

After supper the beds must be
made up. (It was now pitch dark
everywhere except from the glow
from our candles.) We selected the
dryest mattress and spread our rain
coats upon it. Next, Lem and I
made sleeping bags out of two of our
blankets by ingeniously folding them
and by fastening with large safety
pins. The bags were placed close to-
gether on the mattress and the other
blankets were put over the top. The
next thing was to retire.

"The children were all nestled
snug in their beds, while visions of
sugar plums danced in their heads."
In hurrying about in a busy town
doing just what someone else higher
up is directing us to do, we are, I
think, often lead away from that
truth which the great book reminds
us of when it says, "Thou art born to
freedom." If Lem and I had ever
doubted this, all doubt was swept
away on that first night in the clouds.
We were sleeping, mind you, four
thousand, eight hundred and eleven
feet above the level of the sea! The
world was at our feet ; we were the
masters while we were in posses-
sion. Nature had sent us a won-
derful orchestra under the direction
of Professor Wind ; other members



were, — Irons and Chains, Warped
Floors, and Door Up-Stairs.

' ' \V hoo— u-oo— oooo—oo-o, ' ' went
the wind ; "rack-er-rack— rack," went
the Irons and Chains; "cree— ak—
crea— k~ ere— eek," went the Warped
Floors, and "slam-bang!" the Door
Up-Stairs. I have heard of a farmer
who, when asked what instrument of
the band he liked to hear
best, quickly reponded, "the bass
drum." I would not question
the musical powers of the bass
drum, but to me there is much
more variety in the orchestra of Pro-
fessor Wind. I am sure many would
not have been affected in the same
way as Lem and I, but to us the music
was sweet, appealing, and restful ; we
entered dreamland with broad satis-
fied smiles upon our faces.

It was past midnight when we were
next awakened. The orchestra was
yet playing ; but what new musician
had joined it? He made at least
three new sounds ; first would come
the noise like what the horse makes
when he gnaws his crib, next a sound
as if one were chatting his teeth to-
gether very rapidly, the third sound
heard less frequently was like what
would be made by the whisks of a
broom if the whisks were pushed
slowly over a rough floor. We lis-
tened ; the new musician seemed to be
stationed nearer to us than any of the
others. Lem said he was coming in
the window. I raised myself up and
sure enough, there was a round, dark
form on the broad sill. The house
was so built that the sill was even
with the earth on the outside and
about a foot above the floor on the in-
side.

"Let's light our candles," I whis-
pered.

"All right," Lem answered.

You will remember that we had
made some of our blankets into sleep-
ing bags, which bags fitted us rather
closely. We struggled to free our-
selves from the "tight jackets."

"Darn!" said I. '






382



THE GRANITE MONTHLY



"Raspberries !" rejoiced Lem.

Naturally by the time we were
free and the candles were going, Mr.
Musician had disappeared into the
darkness. I think it was mighty
mean on us after we had gone to the
trouble of getting out of those bags;
any way, we made up our minds then
and there, that this new musician was
not the sort of character we wanted
in the orchestra. We got into our
sleeping harnesses again and were
just beginning to dose off when the
stranger came back.

"We must hustle!" I was saying
under my breath.

"Raspberries!" said Lem, "keep
still ; he may come nearer."

So there we lay, listening to the
new notes. Waiting is hard work,
but cold revenge had taken posses-
sion of our hearts. The dark thing
on the sill dropped to the floor with
a thump. It came nearer and nearer
playing its instrument all the while.
Now it was making the noise like a
horse gnawing its crib, and it was
using a bureau near Lem's head for a
crib.

Arise ! Ye conspirators ! We were
not as long getting out this time.
The candles were lighted and we had
slipped on our shoes to prevent the
broken glass from cutting our feet.
The miusician had retired to the farth-
est corner ; he was huddled in a single
dark, round, prickly ball.

"A hedge-hog!" How we laugh-
ed, that instant remembering that the
authorities in the northern towns
were buying hedgehog noses at twenty
cents a piece. Lem commenced fir-
ing croquet balls at the thing, while
I held the candle; and my breath, for
I expected the air would be instantly
permeated with quills. Imagine my
surprise when not a one came '
I was glad though, because we were
clad only in our Summer un-
dergarments and were not par-
ticular about being used for pin
cushions. The animal died hard.
Lem finished him with a mallet. It



was a shame to kill him, but twenty
cents doesn't grow on every brush.
Lem said we m)ust next cut off his
nose.

"Heaven sakes !" I exclaimed,
"get back to bed ! can't you see that
both of us are shaking so we're mak-
ing the same noise the hedge-hog made
with his teeth ! Besides, I guess that
nose will keep 'till morning."

"Raspberries," said Lem, but he
came to bed.

Next morning the clouds were still
there and it was raining slightly. We
couldn't hope for any views, but then
that didn't worry us much. The next
thing was to pack up and get down to
camp in time to go to work. Lem
spent about half an hour sawing that
hedge-hog's nose off with a jack-
knife. 1 said I didn't see why the
authorities couldn't take a quill just as
well and save us all that work. Lem



Online Library1884 numbers of the Bay state monthlyBe the first and subjects of first 10 volumes and List of porThe Granite monthly, a New Hampshire magazine, devoted to literature, history, and state progress (Volume 53) → online text (page 39 of 57)