set, as
seen by the uncertain light of the moon. And that other island, off to
the left, with the dead and barkless trees, how like a tall ship with
bare masts riding at anchor it seems. That other island, away to the
right, with its great boulders and bare rocks rising straight up out
of the water, is a fortification, a stronghold surrounded by a wall of
solid masonry, and bristling with cannon. We can almost see the
sentinel, and hear his measured tramp as he travels his lonely rounds,
keeping watch out over the waters. See all along the shore, as you
look up the bay towards the Lake House, how the millions of fireflies
flash their tiny torches, upward and downward, this way and that,
mingling and crossing, and gyrating and whirling--a troubled and
billowy sea of millions upon millions of glowing and sparkling gems.

Reader, were you and I gifted with the spirit of poetry, what
inspiration would we not gather from the glories which surround us, as
we float of a summer evening over these beautiful lakes, sleeping away
out here, in all their virgin loveliness, among these old primeval
things? But you ask, "what inspiration can there be in a moon and
stars, that we see every night, when the sky is cloudless; in a
desolate wilderness; the roar of the frogs; the hooting of owls; these
useless waters; the phosphorescent flash of lightning bugs; these
piled up rocks and barren mountains? Can you grow corn on these hills,
or make pastures of these rocky lowlands? Can you harness these rivers
to great waterwheels, or make reservoirs of these lakes? Can you
convert these old forests into lumber or cordwood? Can you quarry
these rocks, lay them up with mortar into houses, mills, churches,
public edifices? Can you make what you call these 'old primeval
things' utilitarian? Can you make them minister to the progress of
civilization, or coin them into dollars?"

Pshaw! You have spoiled, with your worldliness, your greed for
progress, your thirst for gain, a pleasant fancy, a glorious dream, as
if everything in the heavens, on the earth, or in the waters, were to
be measured by the dollar and cent standard, and unless reducible to a
representative of moneyed value, to be thrown, as utterly worthless,
away. Let us row back to the Lake House.

CHAPTER III.

THE DEPARTURE--THE STAG HOUNDS--THE CHASE--ROUND LAKE.

From Martin's Lake House we were to take our departure in the morning.
We had arranged for three boats, and a