The Fort William Henry Hotel is a gorgeous affair in every respect. It
is situated very near the old original Fort, just where the French
troops advanced to capture it, and made their celebrated charges.

Perhaps the present proprietor can't discount them at that sort of
thing.

Perhaps not!

Looking over one's bills reminds you a good deal of the Police Courts,
five dollars fine, twenty-five dollars costs.

The costs they make here are very good, however, altho' they do put a
little too much mint in them, I must say.

L.G. is all right, though. It is supplied with all the modern
conveniences. It isn't within five minutes walk of the post office, but
its water conveniences are apparent to all. There is no end to its
belles, and as for its ranges, it has two of them--both Adirondacks.

Yesterday I took a trip up the Lake and across to its neighbor,
Champlain.

Everybody takes this trip because its "the thing," and it is therefore
particularly necessary to take it. Ostensibly, you go to view the
scenery, really, to be inveigled into paying for a low comedy of a
dinner at the other end.

The first place our boat stopped at is called the "Trout Pavillion,"
principally, so far as I can learn, on account of the immense number of
pickerel caught there, and from the fact that it is unquestionably a
good site for a Pavillion whenever the esteemed Proprietor turns up
jacks enough, at his favorite game, to build one.

The next place was set down in the Guide Book as the "Three Sisters"
Islands, an appellation arising from the fact that there are precisely
_four_ of them.

I mentioned this apparent discrepancy to the boat clerk.

This young man, who belongs to a Base Ball Club, informs me that these
islands invariably travelled with a "substitute," as one occasionally
got "soaked."

This certainly seems a little curious, but as the young man says he was
born here, I suppose he knows.

This same young man pointed out a beautiful spot called Green Island and
asked me if I wouldn't like to live there.

He said he thought it would just suit me.

The attention of these people is really delightful.

Some of these places, however, have very inappropriate names, for
instance another little gem is called "Hog Island." No one knows why it
was so called. The clerk of the boat don't either.

He wanted to know if I had ever dined there.

I always make it a point to get on the right side of these Steamboat
fellows, alw