Ipswich High School - Tiger Yearbook (Ipswich, MA)

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Farther to the south, Chocorua’s shape is silhouetted against the horizon, everlasting memorial to the Indian chief whose name it bears. He jumped off the top because he preferred to die rather than see the v hite man invade his last retreat, the mountains he loved. I think I can understand the way he felt. There are innumerable other land- marks and beautiful places in the mountains all of which are equally lovely or interesting as the case may be. I apologize to any other White Mountain devotees in the audience if 1 have neglected to mention their favorite peak or to sing the praises of their familiar haunts. And so New Hampshire is filled to overflowing with people who love her. They fly down the steep moun- tain sides over the crisp white snow in winter with loud cries of “Track” as they dodge between the black pine trees on their slender hickory shafts. At the first spring breeze, in their longing for a glimpse of the mountains, they back out the car and trek north, disregarding the back-roads mud for which New Hampshire is famous. In the sum- mer, west winds, blue skies reflect- ed in sparkling lakes, and pine- covered peaks send out an irresisti- ble call. Fall, perhaps the most beautiful of all the seasons, comes with the concentrated glory of red and yellow hill sides, crisp north- west winds, frosty mornings, and air so clear that it seems sometimes as if you might reach out and touch the top of Mt. Washington. Whittier loved the mountains and said so more eloquently and clearly than most of us can, although we all share his feelings. This is what he said about them after many happy years with them. “Once more, O Mountains “Once more, O Mountains of the North, unveil Your brows and lay your cloudy mantles by! And once more, ere the eyes that seek ye fail, Uplift against the blue walls of the sky Your mighty shapes, and let the sunshine weave Its golden net work in your belting woods, Smile down in rainbows from your falling flood, And on your kingly brows at morn and eve Set crowns of fire ! So shall my soul re- ceive Haply the secret of your calm and strength Your unforgotten beauty interfuse My common life, your glorious s ' hares and hues And sun-dropped splendors at my bid- ding come, Loom vast through dreams, and stretch in billowy length From the sea-level of my lowland home!” 24

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stories are told about it, and Haw- thorne has immortalized it in his book, “The Great Stone Face.” Webster waxed eloquent about its majesty and it brings out all the poetry in everyone who has ever seen it outlined against the blue heavens or, most impressive view of all, against an iron-gray sky with wisps of clouds wreathing its stern visage. In 1916 the stones that form the forehead of the Old Man were found to be slipping and the best stone surgeon in the country was employed to secure them. He drilled holes in the slipping rocks and fastened them tightly by means of chains to the main ledges of Can- non mountain. Nev Hampshire’s famous trade-mark is fully restored and will continue his silent medita- tions for many more years. Mt. Washington, the highest of the White Mountains, is the climax of any trip through New Hampshire. It is climbed by hundreds of people every summer although it is a tame and disappointing expedition to the expert who prefers the other moun- tains and ranges which offer more uncivilized beauty and solitude, un- disturbed by the annoying chatter of the passing tourist. However, Mt. Washington is majestically beauti- ful and offers a wonderful spectacle of lofty height and rugged gran- deur when viewed along with its sister peaks of the Presidential Range, Mt. Adams and Mt. Madi- son, from the valley near Gorham. Looking up from the lowlands, one wonders v hat convulsion of the earth’s surface could have thrown up these overpowering heaps of earth and rock. These monarchs make every beholder feel poig- nantly his insignificance and small- ness in comparison to the works of nature. No wonder that the Indians were terrified and dared not ap- proach these giants, believing them to be the abode of the Great Spirit. However, the white men had no such scruples and immediately started to put Mt. Washington on a paying basis. There have been several Tip-Top and Summit Houses before the pres- ent ones which bid fair to be the longest survivors of the elements on the summit. The Boston and Maine Railroad has built a cog railway up the side, and automobiles take pas- sengers up the Carriage Road sev- eral times a day. It would appear that man has tamed Mt. Washing- ton, but once in a while, the old mountain goes on the rampage and takes his toll of human lives. Es- pecially does he punish reckless- ness and foolhardiness among his followers, and anyone who climbs Mt. Washington after October 1 is literally taking his life in his hands. Although all may appear serene from the Glen, with a warm breeze blowing and the sun shining, there may be at the top below zero tem- peratures and a gale blowing that will toss a person off. “Familiarity breeds contempt” does not apply to Washington or the rest of the Presi- dential Range. An Appalachian Mt. Club guide may become lost in a blizzard as easily as may the most inexperienced climber, but his chances of survival are greater. However, Mt. Washington is usually tractable, and from the summit one may behold on a clear day all of New Hampshire and other parts of New England and Canada. 23

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...Early Hosiery, Lace, and... Silk Industries in Ipswich by Frederick Benedix Jr. F or more than a century hosiery has been an essential industry in the town of Ipswich ; it is there- fore natural that an industry of such long and continued standing should be of interest to the townspeople. Most of us, of course, remember well the Ipswich Mills, and we are, for the most part, familiar with the present Hayward Hosiery Company. Nevertheless, the beginning and the colorful history of such an industry are relatively unknown yet very in- teresting. Therefore, I have at- tempted to trace the development of the hosiery industries in Ipswich and to incorporate in this history early silk and lace, the sister indus- tries of hosiery. The hosiery business was trans- ported to America from England, and in order to trace the beginning of the hosiery industry in Ipswich, we must necessarily cross the ocean to Nottinghamshire. It will be re- called that the great social revolu- tion of England continued through the latter part of the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. The fac- tories were filled with maltreated, underpaid laborers, who were be- ginning to demand sanitary work- ing conditions and better pay. Thus it was in Nottinghamshire, where many hosiery and lace factories had been established. At length, on March 11, 1811, a group of unem- ployed men began the bloody Lud- dite strikes ; these riots, which com- menced at Arnold, rapidly spread through all Nottinghamshire. Own- ers of mills were killed and their property destroyed ; in all over a thousand stocking frames were smashed and made useless. This general confusion lasted for a peri- od of five years and absolutely blotted out, for the time being, the lace and hosiery industries in Not- tinghamshire. As a result of these riots and this destruction, thousands of employ- ees including weavers, machinists, and others were thrown out of jobs with little or no prospect for the future. Of these some of the most ambitious determined to emigrate to America and establish their re- spective trades ; this emigration took place in 1818-1822. However, the British government foresaw this movement and, not wishing to lose a valuable and promising industry, did its utmost to prevent any trans- portation of the hosiery industry to America. Exorbitant export duties were placed on the machinery and tools necessary to stocking making, and exceedingly heavy fines were exacted on those caught smuggling machinery. Nevertheless, in spite of the ef- forts of the British Government, a stocking machine was smuggled to America and finally set up in Water- town, Massachusetts. According to the story this machine, packed in two boxes, had a very exciting trip to America. Buried in a cargo of salt, it was smuggled through the authorities at Liverpool, whence it experienced a stormy voyage across the ocean. It was in 1822 after a few years of manufacture in Watertown that 25