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Rh "You hear those hound-dogs sing on Moosilauke? Well they remind me of the hue and cry We've heard against the Mid-Victorians And never rightly understood till Bryan Retired from politics and joined the chorus. The matter with the Mid-Victorians Seems to have been a man named John L. Darwin." "Go 'long," I said to him, he to his horse.

I knew a man who failing as a farmer Burned down his farmhouse for the fire insurance, And spent the proceeds on a telescope To satisfy a life-long curiosity About our place among the infinities. And how was that for other-worldliness?

If I must choose which I would elevate— The people or the already lofty mountains, I'd elevate the already lofty mountains. The only fault I find with old New Hampshire Is that her mountains aren't quite high enough. I was not always so; I've come to be so. How, to my sorrow, how have I attained A height from which to look down critical On mountains? What has given me assurance To say what height becomes New Hampshire mountains, Or any mountains? Can it be some strength I feel as of an earthquake in my back To heave them higher to the morning star? Can it be foreign travel in the Alps? Or having seen and credited a moment