[Campton—Wednesday, 19 June 1867]
Wednesday was one of those days which may be easily counted as number one from the whole 365, so perfect in crisp beauty, cloudless and fresh, resplendent with sun and coolness. We walked all the morning and sat on a damp log by the ford and listened to the thrushes and the stream. In the afternoon we drove over what is called the New Discovery Road, though it is years since the gap was discov[er]ed between the hills leaving undisputed way to Centre Harbor. We are 1500 feet above the sea during a portion of the way. The hills rise stern and bleak around two lakes lie embraced in green things on our right and left at the foot of Mount Prospect and the whole effect is more of a mountainous than hilly country. In our ascent we met several children, all perfectly wild as if they had never seen a stranger before. One weird little thing a strange wild half fledged Madge Wildfire, came careering over the top of the hill on her way from school swinging her arms and kicking up her legs; suddenly she caught sight of us proceeding slowly in our wagon when she suddenly became possessed with fear and crept like a calf to the side of the way among the bushes. She stood there trembling though a bit re-assured perhaps by the sound of my voice, but the moment we were sufficiently before her to give her the chance she went flying off down the road as if distracted. Afterward we saw a little girl of about ten years with two younger boys, the valiant youths hid themselves behind their sister who disdained to show fear from the magnitude of her office as protectress but her eyes looked quite wild with fear. I think not even the wildness of the scenery gave us such an idea of savagery as these children. Their behavior was in strange contrast with the beauty of the intervale upon which their house stood, a site fit for the abode of peace & serenity.
The day was so beautiful that we lingered rejoicing at the loveliness till all had faded and the stars appeared—then to bed.
