Student and Schoolmate

An Illustrated Monthly

Vol. XXIII      February, 1869.      No II.

Full version at https://www.google.com/books/edition/Student_and_Schoolmate/1jJAAAAAYAAJ?hl=en&gbpv=1

comprising Volume 23 to 26.  References to Mt. Washington in two-part story “Travels among the Mountains of Western Massachusetts” page 71 to 76, and 117 to 122, and opening image “In Sight of Milo’s and the Dome” (before title page)

Page 76 (part):

And now, having briefly described the place, I will describe the home
to which we were going. There are several peaks in Mt. Washington,
higher than the body of the mountain on which the town stands. The
largest of these hills is marked on the maps as Mt. Everett, — called by
some, Taconic; it is better known, however, amongst the natives, as the
Dome. It is rounded, as the name signifies, and, next to Greylock, is
the highest summit in Massachusetts. On a road at the base of the
Dome, live Milo Smith and his wife, an aged couple, who have been
celebrities for many years. When strangers came to the town to stop
any length of time, Milo Smith could always accommodate, and kept an
open house for whoever would stay. His home has often served in this
way, as a hotel to parties who wished to remain over night, that they
might be ready in the morning to see the sunrise from the Dome, – or
to visit Bashbish Falls, Sage’s Ravine, and other spots of note near the
village. –
So many visitors come to Mt. Washington now, that other families
have found it profitable to take boarders, and Milo is not the only man
whose name is known beyond the limits of Berkshire, as one who can
set a good table. To be at Mt. Washington, however, and not to live
at Milo’s, to us would seem impossible; so every Summer finds Felix
spending his vacation at the old farm. And now, throughout our jour
ney, when the fatigue of walking or disgust at the weather, had made
him impatient, he had often called aloud upon the name of Milo, and
heartily wished himself at Mt. Washington.
How we labored to get there, and how we lost our way on the side of
the mountain, will be told in the next chapter.

Pages 119 (part) and 120:

And soon
Felix, pointing with his staff, said, “Do you see that?” I looked up
and beheld, with great joy, the home of Milo Smith, before us. (See
Frontispiece to January No.)
It is a farm-house of moderate size, painted white, the gable end fac
ing the road. There are several houses near, on the same road, but
they are of a more modern build, and none so associated with the past
history of the town as this. As we drew near, and looked up at the
front windows, where we had spent many pleasant hours, we became so
romantic and talkative, that all our fatigue was for the moment forgotten.
We passed around the corner of the house and up the yard, to the back
door, feeling privileged to enter that way, from long acquaintance with
the family.
“Why, Mrs. Smith, how do you do?” said Felix, going into the
kitchen where that lady was at the time, with tongs in hand, turning
one of the blazing logs in the large fire-place. She looked up at us
through her spectacles; then after the first recognition, placed seats for
us near the fire, where sat Mr. Smith, toasting his feet. We inquired
his health, as we pulled off our boots and wet stockings.
“I’ve been rather feeble,” said he, “but I’m getting a leetle better
now.”
As the first thing Felix did, after getting off his wet clothing, was to
take a nap on the lounge, I was left to talk with the host and hostess
alone. I asked Mr. Smith how long he had kept open house for trav
ellers.
“Twenty years ago, and over,” said he, “no one thought of coming
here. I had n’t intended this house for more than my own family, when
I built it. It is n’t spaced right, and I had n’t any idea of stowing away
company. The chambers have since been altered, and little rooms
made out of closets.”
“Who was the first to come here, Sir ?” –
“Miss Sedgwick was the first who came ; she used to travel round
with her school of young ladies. One day I had been out sowing grain,
and had staid pretty late to finish it up. When I came home, up drove
a four horse team to the door. I was out at the barn; and two of the
women followed me round, and nothing they could do but they must
stay over night. Well, our folks did n’t know how they could manage
to keep fifteen or so young ladies, but they brought it about that they
staid. They carried their dinner with them, and went up on the top of
the “Dome.’ The next day they spent over at the falls, and then went
to Salisbury.”
I told him I thought it must be hard work to board so many at once.
“Oh,” said he, “we have had them come with five or six carriages.
Fields brought ten horses.”
“Fields; who’s he, Sir ?”
“Well, I’ll tell you, and may be you’ll know him as well as I do.
Dudley Fields, the great New York lawyer. And he had two waiters
with him. One of them — I don’t know what country he came from —
but he was surprised to think I had never been in New York. The
other waiter told him I had no occasion to go. I tell you what I think
about it. I think I should make poor steerage in New York; I’ve
heard so much of their tricks and capers It wants somebody who
knows what they’re about, to be there.”
I quite agreed with the old gentleman, and told him he had not
missed much by staying at home. Some books lay upon the table near;
I took up one, and found it to be a record of the names of visitors to this
place. One of the first pages to which I turned, contained the follow
ing verses, written by Miss Sedgwick.

O call it not Mount Everett,
Forever ’tis “the Dome”
Of the great Temple God has reared
In this, our Berkshire home.

And let the name the Red Man gave
To all this mountain range,
So sacred be, that other term
Shall seem an utterance strange.

Taghconick,–what that now imports
Has been but vainly guessed;
As vainly let it reverence claim
Worn on that rugged breast.