of the little
village of Champion, near which was a small lake, where we spent many
morning hours. From a height not far away we had glimpses, in clear
weather, of the mountains, seen in airy outline toward the eastward.

My friend had the horses and wagons of the farm at his command, and we
took many long rides to visit places of interest. On several occasions
we saw the decaying chateau of Le Ray, which was but little more than an
hour's ride to the northward of Anthony's home; and on one occasion we
went a day's journey and saw the stony little village of Antwerp, and
visited that beautiful sheet of water on the margin of the wilderness,
known as Lake Bonaparte. Joseph Bonaparte frequently visited this lake,
and he owned lands in its vicinity, and made some improvements upon them
in 1828.

Anthony's mother was a tall, spare woman, with a wrinkled face and
large, straight features. She seemed to me a curious mixture of European
features with a dark skin. She used French phrases in a peculiar way,
and was full of the history of Le Ray and Bonaparte and various members
of the company that had undertaken to make of this section, in years
gone by, a rich and fertile country like the Mohawk valley. It appeared
that the name which the company had given to this region was Castorland,
which she interpreted to mean the land of the beaver. She had, among
other curiosities, some coins or tokens which had been stamped in Paris
on behalf of the company, and on which the word "Castorland,"
accompanied by suitable devices, was plainly seen. The one that
interested me most seemed to have as its device the representation of a
small dog trying to climb a tree. I was informed, however, that the
animal was a beaver, and that he was cutting down the tree with his
teeth.

After talking freely with the mother, Antoinette Brown, I did not wonder
that Anthony had learned to honor the gentlemen who had come from France
to this region in early days as among the greatest men in the world. I
did not find myself able to discredit her realistic and vivid
description of the visits of Joseph Bonaparte to his wilderness domain
in a six-horse chariot, followed by numerous retainers. Neither did I
find myself able to disbelieve in the accuracy of her picturesque
description of Joseph Bonaparte's Venetian gondola floating upon the
waters of Northern New York, or her account of his dinner-service of
"golden plate" spread out by the road-side on one mem