THE WILDWOODS. 15 



the streams, where the lakes lay sleeping alone in the 

 northern wilds. 



In these times of railroads and steamboats, a few 

 hundred miles are as nothing. You rise in the morn- 

 ing in the heart of the Empire State, the centre of a 

 circle containing three millions of people. You sleep 

 at night on the circumference of that circle, on the 

 confines of a broad sweep of country, as yet scarcely 

 explored, known only to the bold hunter, who spends 

 all his seasons save the winter, in the pursuit of the 

 game that dwells only in the depths of the forest. 

 Jump aboard of the cars at Troy for Whitehall. 

 Tarry not a moment at Saratoga ; there are people 

 there searchers after pleasure or pelf. The rich, the 

 gay, the fashionable are there ; invalids in pursuit of 

 health, and sharpers in pursuit of plunder, all congre- 

 gate there. Leave them behind you, and ho ! for the 

 wildwoods, the lakes, and the forest streams. Stop 

 not at Whitehall, pleasant though it be ; there are 

 people there too. A steamboat will hurry you to 

 Plattsburgh ; jump aboard and be off ! You will 

 soon be gliding along the beautiful waters of the 

 Ohamplain. You will see " Old Ti.," the surrender of 

 which, old Ethan Allen, as he, with his Green Moun- 



