238 THE ADIRONDACK. 



suffered so much in former times from the depre- 

 dations of the Indians, that they considered the 

 man a public benefactor, rather than murderer, 

 who slew one. To hang a man for killing an In- 

 dian was a monstrous absurdity — they would as 

 soon think of punishing him for shooting a rattle- 

 snake or wolf. 



You cannot conceive the shock one feels in coming 

 on a spot in the forest, where a murder has been com- 

 mitted. 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 



