Lake Horicon—Sketches of its scenery—Information for anglers—Sabbath-day Point—War memories—The Turret City—Death of a deer—Roger’s Slide—Diamond Island—The snake-charmer—Snake stories—Night on the Horicon.
Lyman’s Tavern. June.
If circumstances alone could make one poetical, then might you expect from me on this occasion a paper of rare excellence and beauty. My sketch-book is my desk, my canopy from the sunshine an elm-tree, the carpet under my feet a rich green sprinkled with flowers, the music in my ear of singing birds, and the prospect before me, north, east, and south, the tranquil bosom of Lake George, with its islands and surrounding mountains, whose waters, directly at my side, are alive with many kinds of fish, sporting together on a bed of sand. Yes, the far-famed Lake George is my subject, but in what I write I shall not use that title; for I do not like the idea of christening what belongs to us with the name of an English monarch, however much his memory deserves to be respected. Shall it be Lake St. Sacrament, then? No! for that was given to it by the Pope and the French nation. Horicon—a musical and appropriate word, meaning pure water, and given it by the poor Indian—is the name which rightfully belongs to the lake which is now my theme.
Lake Horicon is one of the few objects in nature which did not disappoint me after reading the descriptions of travellers. I verily believe, that in point of mere beauty, it has not its superior in the world. Its length is thirty-four miles, and its width from two to four. Its islands number about three hundred, and vary from ten feet to a mile in length; a great many of them are situated in the centre of the lake, at a place called the Narrows. It is completely surrounded with mountains, the most prominent of which are, Black Mountain, on the east of the Narrows, Tongue Mountain, directly opposite, and French Mountain, at the southern extremity. The first is the most lofty, and remarkable for its wildness, and the superb prospect therefrom; the second is also wild and uninhabited, but distinguished for its dens of rattlesnakes; and the latter is somewhat cultivated, but memorable for having been the camping-ground of the French during the Revolutionary war. The whole eastern border is yet a comparative wilderness; but along the western shore are some respectable farms, and a good coach-road from Caldwell to Ticonderoga, which affords many admirable views of the sky-blue lake. There are three public-houses here which I can recommend: the Lake House, for those who are fond of company; Lyman’s Tavern, for the hunter of scenery and lover of quiet; and Garfield’s House, for the fisherman. A nice little steam-boat, commanded by a gentleman, passes through the Lake every morning and evening (excepting Sundays), and though a convenient affair to the traveller, it is an eye-sore to the admirer of the wilderness.
Identified with this boat is an eccentric man, named “Old Dick,” who amuses the tourist, and collects an occasional shilling by exhibiting a number of rattlesnakes. When, in addition to all these things, it is remembered that Horicon is the centre of a region made classic by the exploits of civilized and savage warfare, it can safely be pronounced one of the most interesting portions of our country for the summer tourist to visit. I have looked upon it from many a peak, whence might be seen almost every rood of its shore. I have sailed into every one of its bays; and, like the pearl-diver, have repeatedly descended into its cold blue chambers; so that I have learned to love it as a faithful and well-tried friend. Since the day of my arrival here, I have kept a journal of my adventures; and, as a memorial of Horicon, I will extract therefrom and embody in this chapter the following passages.
LAKE HORICON.
Six pencil sketches have I executed upon the Lake to-day. One of them was a view of the distant mountains, whose various outlines were concentrated at one point, and whose colour was of that delicate dreamy blue, created by a sunlight atmosphere, with the sun directly in front. In the middle distance was a flock of islands, with a sail boat in their midst, and in the foreground a cluster of rocks, surmounted by a single cedar, which seemed to be the sentinel of a fortress. Another was of the ruins of Fort George, with a background of dark green mountains, which was made quite desolate by a flock of sheep sleeping in one of its shady moats. Another was of a rowing race between two rival fishermen, at the time when they were only a dozen rods from the goal, and when every nerve of their aged frames was strained to the utmost. Another was of a neat log-cabin on a quiet lawn near the water, at whose threshold a couple of ragged but beautiful children were playing with a large dog, while from the chimney of the house ascended the blue smoke with a thousand fantastic evolutions. Another was of a huge pine tree, which towered conspicuously above its kindred on the mountain side, and seemed to me an appropriate symbol of Webster in the midst of a vast concourse of his fellow-men. And the last was of a thunder-storm, driven away from a mountain top by the mild radiance of a rainbow, which partly encircled Horicon in a loving embrace.
I have been fishing to-day, and, while enduring some poor sport, indited in my mind the following information, for the benefit of my piscatorial friends. The days of trout-fishing in Lake Horicon are nearly at an end. A few years ago it abounded in salmon-trout, which were frequently caught weighing twenty pounds, but their average weight at the present is not more than one pound and a half, and they are scarce even at that. In taking them you first have to obtain a sufficient quantity of sapling bark to reach the bottom in sixty feet of water, to one end of which must be fastened a stone, and to the other a stick of wood, which designates your fishing ground, and is called a buoy. A variety of more common fish are then caught, such as suckers, perch, and eels, which are cut up and deposited, some half a peck at a time, in the vicinity of the buoy. In a few days, the trout will begin to assemble, and so long as you keep them well fed, a brace of them may be captured at any time during the summer. But the fact is, this is only another way for “paying too dear for the whistle.” The best angling, after all, is for the common brook trout, which is a bolder biting fish, and better for the table than the salmon-trout. The cause of the great decrease in the large trout of this lake is this—in the autumn, when they have sought the shores for the purpose of spawning, the neighbouring barbarians have been accustomed to spear them by torch-light; and if the heartless business does not soon cease, the result will be, that in a few years they will be extinct. There are two other kinds of trout in the lake, however, which yet afford good sport—the silver-trout, caught in the summer, and the fall-trout. But the black-bass, upon the whole, is now mostly valued by the fisherman. They are in their prime in the summer months. They vary from one to five pounds in weight; are taken by trolling and with a drop line, and afford fine sport. Their haunts are along the rocky shores, and it is often the case that on a still day you may see them from your boat swimming about in herds, where the water is twenty feet deep. They have a queer fashion when hooked, of leaping out of the water for the purpose of getting clear, and it is seldom that a novice in the gentle art can keep them from succeeding. But alas, their numbers also are fast diminishing, by the same means and the same hands that have killed the trout. My advice to those who come here exclusively for the purpose of fishing is, to continue their journey to the sources of the Hudson, Schroon Lake, Long Lake, and Lake Pleasant, in whose several waters there seems to be no end to every variety of trout, and where may be found much wild and beautiful scenery. The angler of the present day will be disappointed in Lake Horicon.
When issuing from the Narrows on your way down the Horicon, the most attractive object, next to the mountains, is a strip of low sandy land extending into the lake, called Sabbath Day Point. It was so christened by Abercrombie, who encamped and spent the Sabbath there, when on his way to Ticonderoga, where he was so sadly defeated. I look upon it as one of the most enchanting places in the world; but the pageant with which it is associated was not only enchanting, and beautiful, but magnificent. Only look upon the picture.