maze of life,"

will be pleased with

Saratoga Lake.

It has nine miles of length and two miles and a half of breadth. Many
and varied scenes of interest and grandeur occur within this broad
range of water and shore. The whole lake is replete with quiet and
gentle beauty, striking the beholder rather with admiration than
astonishment.

Boating and sailing may be enjoyed upon its waters, and a small
steamer, plying from point to point, is at the command of pleasure
parties.

Formerly an abundance of trout was found here, and shad and herring
were among the annual visitors; but the lake is now filled with the
black or Oswego bass, pickerel, muscalonge and perch.

[Illustration: SARATOGA LAKE.]

But Saratoga Lake is not wholly devoted to the sportsman, or to the
frivolities of fashionable butterflies. The beautiful and familiar
hymn commencing--

"From whence doth this union arise,
That hatred is conquer'd by love?
It fastens our souls in such ties,
That nature and time can't remove,"

was composed and sang first, upon the placid waters of this lake, by
Dr. Baldwin, of Boston, and a party of clerical friends.

That charming author, N.P. Willis, relates in his own charming style
the following tradition of Saratoga Lake:

"There is," he says, "an Indian superstition attached to this lake,
which probably has its source in its remarkable loneliness and
tranquility. The Mohawks believed that its stillness was sacred to the
Great Spirit, and that if a human voice uttered a sound upon its
waters, the canoe of the offender would instantly sink. A story is
told of an Englishwoman, in the early days of the first settlers, who
had occasion to cross this lake with a party of Indians, who, before
embarking, warned her most impressively of the spell. It was a silent,
breathless day, and the canoe shot over the smooth surface of the lake
like an arrow. About a mile from the shore, near the center of the
lake, the woman, willing to convince the savages of the weakness of
their superstition, uttered a loud cry. The countenances of the
Indians fell instantly to the deepest gloom. After a moment's pause,
however, they redoubled their exertions, and in frowning silence drove
the light bark like an arrow over the waters. They reached the shore
in safety, and drew up the canoe, and the woman rallied the chief on
his credulity. 'The Great Spirit is merciful,' answered the scornful
Mohawk, 'He knows that a whi