186 HILLS AND LAKES. 



the great lakes, the majestic St. Lawrence, and the 

 sea. 



Bog river has its origin in a series of ponds, laying 

 away back towards the base of the Adirondack moun- 

 tains, flowing for miles in a deep and sluggish current, 

 then goes roaring down rocky declivities for, say fifty 

 rods, then settles down to a still, deep stream, passing 

 onward through other ponds and lakes, and finally 

 ends its career in Tupper's Lake. For several miles 

 back from the lake, it moves along with scarcely a 

 perceptible current, until it arrives at the brink of the 

 plateau, or plain, then it rushes down some twenty 

 feet, not in a perpendicular fall, but over the sides of 

 a range of solid rock, steep as the roof of our ancient 

 Dutch houses, plunging in foam into a great stone 

 basin of near half an acre, then it plunges down a de- 

 clivity of like character, into a second basin, and then 

 again over the steep but solid rock, and shoots in a 

 boiling current far out into the lake. On the sides of 

 the river, where it enters the lake, are broad flat rocks, 

 shelving with a gentle descent to the water's edge. 

 We landed on the left hand side of the river, and I 

 prepared my fishing tackle, and threw across the cur- 

 rent, where the river plunged into the lake. The fly 



