Not to attempt a description of the scenery of the Kennebeck, which could be only faithfully given by the pictures of an artist, I will take my reader down its beautiful valley, and tell him what I know respecting its beautiful villages.
The first in order is Bingham, situated on a fertile “interval,” surrounded with picturesque hills, charming and quiet as a summer day, and containing within the jurisdiction of its town an uncommonly fine farm, belonging to a Mr. Parlin, who manufactures large quantities of maple sugar.
Solon is the next village in the Kennebeck valley, remarkable for nothing but Caritunk Falls, which are twenty feet high, and run through a gorge fifty feet wide. Here I saw some twenty men “driving” the logs that had been lodged all along the river when it was low. It is a laborious life which these men lead, but they receive good pay, and meet with many interesting adventures. They generally have the soul to enjoy fine scenery, and therefore demand the respect of the intelligent traveller.
Anson, though in the valley of the Kennebeck, is situated on Seven Mile Brook, and is a flourishing business place. From its neighbouring hills may be seen the sky-piercing peaks of Mount Blue, Saddleback, Bigelow, and Mount Abraham, which are the guardian spirits of Maine. The town is distinguished for its agricultural enterprise, and the abundance of its wheat, having actually produced more than is reported from any other town in the State.
Norridgwock, so named by the Kennebeck Indians, because, when fighting with their enemies at this place, they could find _no-ridge-to-walk_ upon, which was a desirable object. It is a charming little village, and associated with a celebrated Indian Chief named Bomazeen, and also with a Jesuit Missionary, whose name I do not remember. Not far from here is a picturesque fall, also a picturesque bend of the Kennebeck, where empties Sandy River, upon which are many extensive farms.
Skowhegan is a thriving village, where there are fine falls, which I never could look upon without thinking of the famous Glen’s Falls in New York, of which they are a complete counterpart, though on a smaller scale. Many and very dear to me are my recollections of its “choice bits” of scenery, of the fine singing I there heard, of the acquaintances there formed, and of the pleasant literary communings which were mine in company with one of the best and most intellectual of women, who has for many years been my “guide, counsellor, and friend.”