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��THE GRANITE MONTHLY.
��THE BADGER HOMESTEAD.
��BY FRED MYRON COLBY.
��Old Gilmanto i was formerly one of the largest and Most important towns of New Hampshire. It comprised an area of sixty-three thousand acres, and before Belm >nt was severed from it the value of agricultural prod- ucts exceeded that of any other town in the state. Among its citizens were numbered many men of large wealth and usefulness, not a few of whom ac- quired a name that was known and reverenced beyond the limits of their own neighborhood. Gilmanton citi- zens, bearing the proud name of Gil- man, Cogswell, and Badger, during more than one generation, exercised active influence in the councils of the state. They were militia officers, sher- iffs, judges, senators, and governors. They were the owners of broad acres among her hills and romantic val- leys, the movers of prominent indus- tries, and the dispensers of prodi- gal hospitality. Gilmanton was then a star of the first magnitude in the gal- axy of New Hampshire towns. It di- vided with Dover the honor of emi- nence in old Strafford county. The county courts were held alternately at these two boroughs. Business was flourishing, and a population of over three thousand gave the town an out- look toward the future, so to speak, that was not surpassed by any other in the Granite State.
That was in the good old days when the lumbering stage-coach rattled over the highways, and old-fashioned hostel- ries at " Smith's Corner," at " Gilman- ton Corner," and at the " Center" welcomed the traveler with that cour- tesy and good cheer which Longfellow has so admirably characterized in his "Tales of a Wayside Inn." A new era was ushered in with the laying of railroads. The " center" of business moved to other localities, and Gilman- ton, like many another ancient seat, was left out in the cold. That was the first
��adverse stroke of a sternly jealous fate. In 1859 followed the severing of Bel- mont. The new township was first incorporated as " Upper Gilmanton." Mutation is the law of nature, and Gil- manton has little now to attract the visitor, save her ancient ancestral homes, her hills and healthful air, which are beginning to be valued by an increasing number of annual sojourners. The hills— the eternal hills— remain ; the farms are there, and the sturdy, hospitable yeomanry, bear- ing the old historic names, but the greatness has departed.
A ride over the Gilmanton hills can not but be enjoyed by any one. You enter the hilly region as soon as you start from Tilton. Such stage-riding ! Well, it is delightful. The country is beautiful, superbly diversified by wood, streamlet, and cultivated fields. The sunshine is radiant, and the air is laden with vitality. The stage travels slow- ly, or else the miles are of greater length than any others we know of. They are country miles ; they have in- deed three hundred and twenty rods to the mile, but then the rods are longer too. We do not murmur ; we are really enjoying the ride, and we are going to get off at Belmont. Mountains are in the distance, and hills are all around us. toward the north rises that attracts our eyes, high ridge, smooth and fertile. At the highest point stands a huge, long barn, and in close adjacency a man- sion painted white. Above all toss the wide- branching arms of giant elms. " That is the place," says the stage- driver. We remain silent and admire.
Anon we arrive at a little hamlet, situated in a smiling green valley, bi- sected by a rapid, rushing stream. Thirty or forty houses, several factories and mills, two churches, and three or four stores, constitute the village. It
��Off at our left an eminence It is a long,
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