e the path a huge granite boulder.
In 1883 a sudden mountain storm caused a torrent to dash through the
chasm, and the boulder became a subject for history. It disappeared,
thus partially explaining how it was originally lodged in its former
resting place. A short distance below the Flume are the Georgiana Falls,
where the water descends for more than a hundred feet over a sheer
precipice.

[Illustration: WHITE MOUNTAINS, FROM THE GLEN.]

Franconia is a fairyland of wonderful fascination; and the weary of body
and mind, or the despondent and languid invalid, and no less the strong
and healthy, will find their physical faculties invigorated, and the
mind and soul elevated by a sojourn among the attractions of that lovely
town. It was with the deepest regret that we turned from those
delightful regions. Our time was not lost, for as we pant and struggle
in "life's ceaseless toil and endeavor," a thousand memories come to
cheer us from those sojourns in this romantic and magnificent mountain
land.

Again at Bethlehem Junction we follow the main thoroughfare through the
mountains to the great chain of hotels of world-wide fame known as the
Twin Mountain House, Fabyan's, and the Crawford House. Up the valley of
the Ammonoosuc to the Twin Mountain House, which takes its name from two
prominent peaks of the Franconia range, is a delightful ride. We are now
in the midst of the mountain region, the White Mountain plateau. Here
nature, _en dishabille_, with locks unkempt and loosened zone,
reclines at Ease in her most secret chamber, beyond the reach of
intrusion, and neither thinking of, nor caring for, the critical
philosophy of the outside world; an emerald-crowned Cleopatra, revelling
in the midst of her great vassals.

[Illustration: SQUAM LAKE AND MOUNT CHOCORUA.]

The Twin Mountain House, like Fabyan's and the Crawford House, is a
post-office. It is a hostelry, also, that is not surpassed in its
management, cuisine or in magnificence by any in the chain.

"It is good to be here," said Molly, lying back in her chair on the long
piazza, "while the wind blows fair, as in Indian myth blew the breeze
from the Land of Souls."

"Do you remember the other time we were here, Molly?" asked Fritz, "and
the beautiful moonlight evenings we enjoyed?"

"Oh, yes. How many nights we sat here or promenaded among the trees. It
was in September and the moon was full. As she arose over the eastern
hills and threw her light upon the v