A GRAVE IN THE FOREST.

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water but once, the whole distance, and then only to pass over some five hundred yards.

Near the foot of the first lake, (or last in the route,) is "murderer's point," where a white man, some ten years since, shot an Indian. The latter, who was trapping around these waters, in some way gave offence to the white hunter, whose name was Johnson. A quarrel ensued, and the Indian was killed. Whether the murder was committed in the heat of a sudden fight, or in cold blood, is not known —the forest alone witnessed the bloody transaction : yet there, on the shore of that lonely river, sleeps the poor savage. A simple wooden cross, erected by some of his tribe, stands over the grave, awakening sad emotions in the breast of the wanderer. If it were on an open bank it would not seem so solitary, but surrounded as it is by an interminable forest, it looks fearfully forlorn.

By one of those singular discoveries which so often detect the murderer, Johnson was convicted of the crime. The people of Herkimer County, however, claiming him as their criminal, he was tried there and acquitted, and carried about the town on men's shoulders. The good Dutchmen of that county had

suffered so much in former times from the depredations of the Indians, that they considered the man a public benefactor, rather than murderer, who slew one. To hang a man for killing an Indian was was a monstrous absurdity-they would as soon think of punishing him for shooting a rattlesnake or wolf.

You cannot conceive the shock one feels in coming on a spot in the forest, where a murder has been committed. In the streets of a crowded city, or on the highway, all remembrance of the deed is soon effaced-changes take place, and the mere fact that ten thousand other things have transpired since it occurred, serves to weaken the associations connected. with it, and indeed removes it much farther off. But in the still woods, the solitary grave and you are alone together. The motionless trunks seem stern watchers there; and you impart a consciousness to the sleeper, and imagine that the uneven surface around him was made by the fierce death-struggle, and that the leaves are yet tinted with his blood. I have often thought that a murderer in the heart of a boundless forest must feel more restless and wretched than if he were in a crowd of men. The suspicious eyes of his

fellows could be encountered with far more firmness than those of that invisible presence which seems there to surround him. There is no way to escape himself -nothing to resist or to dare. "The scowl of revenge or stare of defiance, may be met, for there is a visible object" on which the passions can act; but to struggle with conscience-to hush the awful voice of law which God's universe about him is thundering in his ear, is a hopeless task.

Near the last of this chain of lakes is a small sheet of water called Moose Lake, from its being a favorite haunt of moose. Like the first mentioned in the group, it is embosomed in trees, but no mountains rise from its shores. It has also a beach of incomparable whiteness, and the bottom of the lake looks like a vast bed of fine white salt. As you sit in your boat, you can see it glittering beneath at an immense depth, while ever and anon a huge trout flits like a shadow over it. A certain judge and his lady are ac customed in summer to come from the western settlements, and camp out for two or three weeks at a time on its shores, and fish. The lady, accomplished and elegant, enjoys the recreation amazingly, and once caught herself a trout weighing nineteen pounds.

There are no islands upon it, but a ong green promontory almost cuts it in two, from which you get an entrancing view of the whole lake.

My friend Bn, with a hunter, had great sport here one day. He did not fish over an hour, and yet in that short time, took a hundred and twenty pounds of trout, and left them biting as sharp and fast as when he began. Going back through the lake towards Brown's tract, two moose with their broadhuge black forms, were seen

spreading horns and standing on the shore.

They can see to an astonishing

distance; and at the first glimpse of the boat, they wheeled into the woods and made off. One, however,

was killed the next day. most every half mile.

Deer were stumbled on alBn said he counted six,

two of which the rifle of the hunter fetched down. A deer seems unable to measure distance correctly on the water, or else reasons very poorly on what he sees; for if a man will approach noiselessly and without changing his posture, he can often, in broad daylight, get within fair shooting range.

To strike through the woods, it is only about five miles from the head of this lake to "Brown's tract," as it is called, where the signs of civilized life first ap

pear, though it will be a great mistake if when you get here you imagine yourself "out of the woods"a long road yet remains to be traveled.

This "tract" receives its name from John Brown, formerly governor of Rhode Island. Some fifty years ago, he bought two hundred thousand acres here-all wilderness with the intention of forming a large settlement. By presents of land and putting up at his own expense, mills and a forge for the manufacture of iron, he induced many families to migrate-at one time, it is said, there were thirty located in this solitary spot. But at that period, there was not a single public improvement west of Albany, hence there were no facilities for getting to market. Added to this, the land was cold and unproductive-the winters long and severe, which so disheartened the settlers that they one after another left. Governor Brown, who had constantly furnished large supplies at length died, and then the colony broke up.

Three thousand acres had been cleared up, which now lies a vast common, with only one inhabitant to cultivate it. He occupies it without being owner, yet pays no rent, and no taxes: the Robinson Crusoe of this little territory, he has what he can raise, and no