Hoffman._

* * *

=Saratoga to Lake George.=

The traveler will find trains and excursions to suit his convenience
from Saratoga to our fairest lake. His route takes him through
Gansevoort and Fort Edward to Glens Falls with the narrowing and
bright-flowing Hudson for a companion. About one mile beyond Fort
Edward Station, near the railway on the right, stood, until recently,
the tree where Jane McCrea was murdered by Indians during the
Revolution. From Glens Falls the tourist proceeds over the
well-conducted Lake George division of the _Delaware and Hudson_, and
soon finds himself in the midst of a historic and romantic region.
About half way to the lake stands a monument to Col. Ephraim Williams,
killed at the battle of Lake George in 1755, erected by the graduates
of Williams College, which he founded. Bloody Pond, a little farther
on, sleeps calm and blue in the sunlight in spite of its tragic name
and associations, and soon Lake George, girt-round by mountains,
greets our vision, stretching away in beauty to the north.

Near the railway station on the ninth of September, 1903, a monument
was unveiled commemorating the battle of Lake George one hundred and
forty-eight years before. The monument embodies the heroic figures of
Sir William Johnson and King Hendrick the Indian chief. It represents
the Indian chief demonstrating to General Johnson the futility of
dividing his forces. Governor Odell of New York, Governor Guild of
Massachusetts, Governor Chamberlain of Connecticut, and Governor
McCulloch of Vermont and others delivered appropriate addresses.

=The Trossachs of America.=--Capt. Wm. R. Lord, author of
"Reminiscences of a Sailor," in a recent article contributed to a
Scottish paper, has happily called Lake George and its surroundings
"The Trossachs of America." In writing of the autumn season he says:
"Its similarity to the Trossachs of Scotland impresses one most
vividly as seen at this season; the mountains are clothed in a garb,
the prevailing color of which is purple, reminding me of a previous
visit through the Scottish Highlands when the heather was in full
bloom. I at that time felt it to be impossible that any other place on
the face of the globe could equal the magnificently imposing grandeur
of the 'Trossachs.' I must, however, freely admit that in its power of
changing beauty this region of America fully equals, if it does
not surpass it. Deeds of 'derring-do,' enacted in these mountai