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Updated: May 5, 2025
Fearing to disturb him, I followed him with my eyes only, and watched him till he turned the corner and passed out of sight. On the morning of the 19th of May, 1864, a telegram, signed by Franklin Pierce, stunned us all. It announced the death of Hawthorne. In the afternoon of the same day came this letter to me: "Pemigewasset House, Plymouth, N.H., Thursday morning, 5 o'clock
His was one of the few voices of encouragement and sympathy which greeted the author of this sketch on the publication of a pamphlet in favor of immediate emancipation. He gave us a kind word of approval, and invited us to his mountain home, on the banks of the Pemigewasset, an invitation which, two years afterwards, we accepted. We spent two delightful evenings with him.
He failed rapidly, and his family and friends became anxious about him, though they did not anticipate the suddenness of the end. In the middle of May Frank Pierce proposed that they should go to the New Hampshire lakes and up the Pemigewasset, by carriage, and Hawthorne consented.
One can almost see the sunset light flooding the Franconia Notch, and glorifying the peaks of Moosehillock, and hear the murmur of the west wind in the pines, and the light, liquid voice of Pemigewasset sounding up from its rocky channel, through its green hem of maples, while reading them.
They were so near me, I could seem to hear the voice of their cataracts, as I could count their great slides, streaming adown their lone and desolate sides, old slides, some of them overgrown with young woods, like half-healed scars on the breast of a giant. The great rains had clothed the valleys of the upper Pemigewasset in the darkest and deepest green.
The little village of Plymouth lay right at our feet, with its beautiful expanse of intervale opening on the eye like a lake among the woods and hills, and the Pemigewasset, bordered along its crooked way with rows of maples, meandering from upland to upland through the meadows. Our young footsteps had wandered over these localities.
It is difficult for us to imagine a lover singing, or saying, "Meet me by the Pemigewasset, love," or asking her to take a row with him on the lovely Winnepiseogee. But lovers do such things up there; and beautiful rivers they are, flowing between mountains, and breaking occasionally into falls and rapids.
It has the Winnipiseogee, Squam, and Newfound Lakes, and hundreds of ponds to fill, that store a large amount of water, before any considerable rise can take place in the river, and then they restrain the flow. No excess of water comes through the Winnipiseogee River, though it is the outlet of a water-shed nearly as great as of the Pemigewasset.
For many miles it dashes down toward the sea, known at first as the Pemigewasset, until finally its waters are joined by the outflow from Lake Winnipiseogee, and a great river is formed, which, in its fall of several hundred feet, offers immense power to the mechanic.
Besides these there are the two rivers which unite to form it, the names of which are still more peculiar: Pemigewasset and Winnepiseogee. The most remarkable thing with regard to these names is, that the people who live near see nothing remarkable in them, and pronounce them as naturally as New Yorkers do Bronx and Croton.
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