The Portland daily press., 1872-07-31
Letter from the Lake.

There's as much difference in people as there
is in anybody" was the wise suggestion of one
OF my friends, when expressed the determine
ton to spend Saturday vacation somewhere
up in the region of Lake Sebago and its feed
ers, and refused to visit one Of the more fash
ionable haunts of summer visitors equally &C
cessible to me. Besides I calculated the ex-
pense, and that was more favorable to the state
of my purse, 80 threw my satche, on board
the little steamer Oriental, which lay putting at
the foot of the Lake, one fine morning, and put
off in the direction of Rattlesnake Mountain,
which bounded the vision at the north. 1 made
friends with Capt. Gibbs and the pilot before
we got out of Standish bay, for was on a tour
OF observation, and they are intelligent men,
who know every bit of the way, and arc ready
to impart information Rounding a point the
steamer was in the Great Bay, where Sebago
stretches to its full width Of eleven miles, and
gives view of old Saddleback and Bald
Mountain in the distance, Pleasant Mountain
to the left, and on the right Frye's Island,
with its thousand acres of forest, and still fur
ther to the east the location of the Images and
the Cave. There is no considerable inland
sheet of water in New England that has not
its romantic legend of aboriginal times Seba-
go has its, connected with these images and the
cave. A dusky warrior of the Pequakets loved
maiden of the tribe that dwelt on the east
and he made stolen visits in his canoe to their
TRUSTING place, on the eastern border of the lake.
A cave at the foot of the bold cliff afforded
hiding place for his boat, and crevice in the
rock led the way to its summit. During one of
theS0 stolen intarviAxuu fho c,,r,r
ed by some of the warriors of the maiden's
tribe, who were at deadly emnity with the
brave Pequakets. A hurried consultation took
place between the youthful pair. They clasped
hands, bounded over the cliff into the dark wa
tiers with its measureless depth. The Indians
were appalled, by the suddenness of the move
ment and the loss of the brightest maiden of
their camp. They peered cautiously over the
summit, but the still water refused Ito tell the
fate of the lovers. They accounted them dead.
and commemorated the sad event with rude hi
eroglyphics upon the face of the rock, in the
brilliant colors of their war paint. The colors
still remain, and vivid Imagination only can
discover the outline of the clasped figures.
Like all properly attested love stories this le-
gend has its natural termination. The lovers
swan to the cave and remained hidden until
the Indians had gone back to camp with their
sad story, when they padded across the water
in the darkness-and were married and lived
happily all the rest of their lives.
But we enjoy the sail across the lake. watch
ing the changing outlines of the landscape and
the distant sails of the boats under the vary
ing sunlight. Railroad and steamboats, have
nhan0Ad frof st ,scJ sJxz f.
ago more than a hundred boats carried the
freight of these inland towns down to the sea-
board through the Cumberland and Oxford Ca
nal. Now the number is less than score.
The canal is not in operation, and these pecu-
liar craft limit their voyages southwark to the
foot of the lake. Occasionally pickerel leans
out OF the water, and they say that cusk and
salmon-trout abound in the deep recesses be-
low. To the northward, just visible near the
shores of the lake is the home Of the Youthful
Hawthorne. Dingley Islands, fourteen in num-
Der, lay to the eastward, and the stories that are
told of good fishing among them are tempting.
Now we get better view of Peaked Mountain.
while Kearsarge cold and sharp in its triapeu. |
lar shape, looks over the lowland on the west |
Bald Mountain comes down to meet the waters, |
and away off . Mount Washington is seen
glimmerng under the edge of the broken
clouds. The Cornish hills with their round.
rolling submits, bound the sight on the west
and so we approach the northern shore of the
lake. and look earnestly for an aperture in the
bank large enough for our boat to get through.
The water shoals off and the steamer, screw
stirs up the sand on the bottom. We appear
to be trying to get into one of those sedgy pools
that border Oh tho lake. A short sudden turn
Or two, and we are over Songo bar, and the
first section of tho remarkable river is before
US. The Songo is at once perplexty and a
delight. No river on the continent has the No.
,uliarities which this possesses. 1t is but two
md half miles on an air line from Lake Sc
oago to the Bay of Naples, Which are connected
I'd by this river, but the river goes staggering
along through woods and thickets for six fnn
niles before it finds its way out A narrow
stream, scarcely thirty yards wide, with a deptb
If over twenty feet, running between bold banks
With sluggish, almost imperceptible cur
ent, the sail through it Is ono of continua,
urprise 1t has twenty-scven turns, and
ONE OF them 80 sudden, that in boats
ength ahead We can see no way out of the diff
iculty. But the steamer is equal to the emer-
ency. She threads her way through the sinu-
us channel, with something like intelligence
nd the passage 10 attended with delightful
ensations of novelty and surprise. The calm
Taters reflect the high banks and dense foliage. s
Thile groups OF elms occasionally hang over