The New Hampshire Gazette

Nancy's Hill —A few miles below the Notch of the White Mountains, in the valley of the Saco, is a little rise of land, called " Nancy's Hill." It was formerly covered with a thick growth of trees, a little cluster of which is yet suffered to remain, probably from the sad story connected with the spot. The pass, through the Gap of the mountains was discovered by Nash, a hunter, who, with others in their excursions long before the settlement of that part of the country, used to make this hill a resting place, and draw together the thick boughs and tops of the smaller trees so as to provide a temporary shelter. This spot for years after inhabitants began to settle along the rivers, was a common halting place, and the grantees of our northern townships, many of whom live in and about Portsmouth, passed over this route to their lands. Col. W. —, of Portsmouth, settled upon his fine township of Dartmouth, [Jefferson] in 1773; and among his servants was Nancy —, a young woman of respectable connexions, who had fallen deeply in love with a young man, also in the same service.—

At the close of autumn, they had agreed to go to Portsmouth, where they were to be married; and the girl, confiding in the attachment of her lover, placed in his keeping her little stock of money, and hard earnings of several years industry. For some cause or other, she was induced, before the time fixed for their departure. to visit Lancaster. When she returned, the young man was gone, and she determined to follow him. The snows of an early winter had already fallen to some depth; there was not a house between Dartmouth and Bartlett, a distance of thirty miles; and the way through the wild woods a foot path only.—

The family labored to dissuade her from the journey; but she persisted in her design, and wrapping herself in her long cloak, proceeded on her way. Snow after snow succeeded, and the very sky seemed to glisten with frost, for several weeks, when some persons from Bartlett, passing up this route, reached the hill at night. On lighting their fires, an unearthly figure stood before them, beneath the bending branches, wrapped in a robe of ice, and reclining her head, as if in sleep, against the trunk of a large tree. It was the lifeless form of Nancy, who, fatigued with her journey thus far, had stopped here to rest, and falling asleep, died of the intense cold.—N. H. Jour.