looked as if they had taken out "a new lease of life."

"I don't suppose they will last you as long as I have been doing them,"
he remarked, with unprofessional frankness. I did not believe him, and
indeed his prophecy was not true, for they are in existence yet, and I
never disposed of "a quarter" in my life with more satisfaction than I
dropped it that day into his benevolent hand.

A thousand years hence, when New Hampshire shall have become as
populous as Babylon, this sketch may become the foundation of some
"Tale of Beowulf" or other. At any rate here it is ready.

Of all the White Mountains, the one of which you hear least said is
Agamenticus, and perhaps justly, for it is not one of the White
Mountains, but an isolated peak by itself. My information concerning
it is founded partly on observation, partly on testimony, and partly on
memory, supported where she is weak by conjecture. These sources,
however, mingle their waters together somewhat too intricately for
accurate analysis, and I shall, therefore, waive distinctions, and
plant myself on the broad basis of assertion, warning the future
historian and antiquary not take this paper as conclusive without
extraneous props.

Agamenticus is a huge rock rising abruptly from a level country along
New Hampshire's half-yard of sea-shore. As it is the only large rock
on the eastern coast of the United States, it is in invaluable beacon
to mariners. The first city ever built on American continent was laid
out at its base, the remains are now visible from its summit; but, as
funds failed, and the founders were killed by the Indians, it was never
completed, in fact was never begun, only laid out. To the east I was
certain I saw Boar's Head and a steamer steaming towards it, till I was
assured that in such case the steamer must have been steaming over the
corn-fields, because, unlike Aenon near to Salim, there was no water
there. So I suppose it must have been

"A painted ship upon a painted ocean."

The ascent to Agamenticus is sidling and uncertain so long as you hug
your carriage; but, leaving that, and confiding yourself to Mother
Earth, you gather both strength and equipoise from the touch, and, with
a little boy to guide you through the woods and over the rocks, you
will find the ascent quite pleasant and safe, if you are careful not to
slip down, which you will be sure to do on your descent, whether you
are careful or not. At the summit of the mo