ll this continent. We talk about the scenery of Lake George. It is
all tame and spiritless compared with what may be seen here; it
possesses not a tithe of the variety, the bold and grand, the placid
and beautiful, all mingled, and changing always, as you pass from
point to point along these lakes. Why do not the artists whose
business it is to make the "canvas speak," drift out this way, and
deal with nature in all her ancient loveliness, clothed in her
primeval robes, and smiling in her freshness and beauty, as when
thrown from the hand of Deity? It would repay them for their labor,
and yield them a rich harvest of gain.

We had heard of the shanty in which we were to encamp, and we rowed
straight through the whole length of the lake towards it. We reached
it as the sun was going down, and stowed away our luggage before the
darkness had gathered over the forest. We took possession by the right
of squatter sovereignty, the owner being unknown, or at all events,
absent from the woods. This lake is one of the few in all this region
that I had never visited before, and is next in beauty to its
namesake, two days' journey nearer to civilization. It is about twelve
miles in length, and from one to two miles in width, with many
beautiful bays stealing around behind bold rocky promontories, and
sleeping in quiet beauty under the shadows of the tall forest trees
that tower above their shores. It is dotted, too, with beautiful
islands, some rising with a gentle slope from the water, covered with
scattering Norway pines, and a dense undergrowth of low bushes; others
are covered with tall spruce, fir, and hemlocks, standing up in
stately and solemn grandeur, their arms lovingly intertwined, through
the everlasting verdure of which the sun never shines; and others
still are gigantic rocks, rising up out of the deep water, all
treeless and shrubless, remaining always in brown and barren
desolation, on which the eagle and osprey devour their prey, and the
flocks of gulls that frequent the lake 'light to rest from their
almost ceaseless flight. Civilization has not as yet marred in
anything this beautiful sheet of water; even the lumberman has not
forced his way to the majestic old pines that tower in stately
grandeur above the forest trees of a lesser growth; not a foot of laud
has been cleared within thirty miles of it. The old woods stand around
it just as God placed them, in all their pristine solemnity, stately
and motionless;