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pears to form, from that quarter, a dangerous entrance to this retired spot.
* Every thing in this view, is calculated to make an impression of the most entire seclusion; for, beyond the water, and the open ground iu the immediate neighbourhood of the house, rocks and forests alone meet the
appear to separate you from all the rest of the world. But at the same moment that you are contemplating this picture of the deepest solitude, you may without leaving your place, merely by changing your position, see through one of the long Gothic windows of the same room, which reach to a level with the turf, the glowing western valley, one vast sheet of cultivation, filled with inhabitants, and so near, that with the aid only of a common spy-glass, you distinguish the motions of every individual who is abroad in the neighbouring village, even to the frolics of the children, and the active industry of the domestic fowls, seeking their food, or watching over, and providing for their young. And from the same window, when the morning mist, shrouding the world below and frequently hiding it completely from view, still leaves the summit of the mountain in clear sunshine, you may hear through the dense medium, the mingled sounds, occasioned by preparation for the rural occupations of the day.
• From the boat or summer house, several paths diverge; one of which, leading to the northeast, after passing through a narrow defile, is divided into two branches; the first pas. ses round the lake, and generally out of sight of it, for a quarter of a mile, until descending a very steep bank, through a grove of evergreens, so dark as to be almost impervious to thie
rays of the sun, even at noon day, it brings you suddenly and unexpectedly, out, upon the eastern margin of the water, into the same road which was seen from the opposite side, and from thence along it, to the cottage, beyond the foot of the south rock. The other branch of the path, after leaving the defile, passes to the east side of the northern
ridge, and thence you ascend through the woods, to its summit, where it terminates at the tower, standing within a few rods of the edge of the precipice. The tower is a hexagon, of sixteen feet, diameter, and fifty-five feet high; the ascent, of about eighty steps, on the inside, is easy, and from the top which is nine hundred and sixty feet above the level of Connecticut river, you have at one view, all those objects which have been seen separately from the different stations below. The diameter of the view in two directions, is more than ninety miles, extending into the neighbouring states of Massachusetts and New York, and comprising the spires of more than thirty of the nearest towns and villages. The little spot of cultivation surrounding the house, and the lake at your feet, with its picturesque appendages of boat, winding paths, and Gothic buildings, shut in by rocks and forests, compose the fore ground of this grand panorama.
On the western side, the Farmington valley appears, in still greater beauty than even from the lower brow, and is seen to a greater extent, prtsenting many objects which were not visible from any other quarter. On the east, is spread before you, the great plain through which the Connecticut river winds its course, and upon the borders of which the towns and villages are traced for more than forty miles. The most considerable place within sight, is Hartford, where, although at the distance of eight' miles in a direct line, you see, with the aid of a glass, the carriages passing at the intersection of the streets, and distinctly trace the motion and position of the vessels, 'as they appear, and vanish, upon the river, whose broad sweeps are seen like a succession of lakes, extending through the valley. The whole of this magnificent picture, including in its vast extent, cultivated plains and rugged mountains, rivers, towns, and villages, is encircled by a distant outline of blue mountains, rising in shapes of end. less variety
Massacre of Miss M'Crea.— The story of this unfortunate young lady is well known, nor should I mention it now, but for the fact, that the place of her murder was pointed out to us, near Fort Edward.
and conversed with a person, who was acquainted with her, and with her family; they resided in the village of Fort Edward,
It seems, she was betrothed to a Mr. Jones, an American refugee, who was with Burgoyne's army, and being anxious to obtain possession of his expected bride, he despatched a party of Indians to escort her to the British army. Where were his affection and his gallantry, that he did not go himself, or at least that he did not accompany his savage einissaries!
Sorely against the wishes and remonstrances of her friends, she committed herself to the care of these fiends;strange infatuation in her lover, to solicit such a confidence -stranger presumption in her, to yield to his wishes; what treatment had she not a right to expect from such guardians!
The party set forward, and she on horseback; they had proceeded, not more than half a mile from Fort Edward, when they arrived at a spring, and halted to drink. The impatient lover had, in the mean time, despatched a second party of Indians, on the same errand; they came, at the unfortunate moment, to the same spring, and a collision immediately ensued, as to the promised reward.
' Both parties were now attacked, by the whites, and at the end of the conflict, the unhappy young woman was found tomahawked, scalped and (as is said,) tied fast to a pine tree just by the spring. Tradition reports, that the Indians divided the scalp, and that each party carried half of it to the agonized lover.
* Which is said to bave been a barrel of rum.
This beautiful spring, which still flows limpid and cool, from a bank near the road side, and this fatal tree we saw. The tree which is a large and ancient pine, fit for the mast of some tall ammiral," is wounded, in many places, by the balls of the whites, fired at the Indians; they have been dug out as far as they could be reached, but others still remain in this ancient tree, which seems a striking emblem, of wounded innocence, and the trunk, twisted off at a considerable elevation, by some violent wind, that has left only a few mutilated branches, is a happy, although painful memorial of the fate of Jenne M'Crea.
“Her name is inscribed on the tree, with the date 1777, and no traveller passes this spot, without spending a plain moment in contemplating the untimely fate of youth and loveliness.
'The murder of Miss M'Crea, (a deed of such atrocity and cruelty as scarcely to admit of aggravation,) occurring as it did, at the moment when general Burgoyne, whose army was then at Fort Anne, was bringing with him to the invasion of the American states, hordes of savages, “ those hell-hounds of war,” whose known and established mode of warfare, were those of promiscuous massacre, electrified the whole continent, and indeed, the civilized world, producing an universal burst of horror and indignation. General Gates did not fail to profit by the circumstance, and in a severe, but, too personal remonstrance, which he addressed to, general Burgoyne, charged him with the guilt of the murder, and with that of many other similar atrocities. His real guilt, or that of his government, was, in employing the savages at all in the war; in other respects
he appears to have had no concern with the transaction; in his reply to general Gates, he thus vindicates himself: “In regard to Miss M'Crea, her fall wanted not the tragic display you have laboured to give it, to make it as sincerely lamented and abhorred by me, as premeditated barbarity. On the contrary, two chiefs who had brought her off, for the purpose of security, not of violence to her person, disputed which should be her guard, and in a fit of savage passion, in one, from whose hands she was snatched, the unhappy woman became the victim. Upon the first intelligence of this event, I obliged the Indians to deliver the murderer into my hands, and though, to have pun. ished him by our laws, or principles of justice, would have been perhaps unprecedented, he certainly should have suffered an ignominious death, had I not been convinced by my circumstances and observation, beyond the possibility of a doubt, that a pardon under the terms which I presented, and they accepted, would be more efficacious than an execution, to prevent similar mischief,
be by the tenderest of her friends. The fact was no
Montreal.- At the village of Longueil, or a little before arriving there, we caught the first view of Montreal. The first impression of this city is very pleasing. In its turrets and steeples, glittering with tin; in its thickly built streets, stretching between one and two miles along the river, and rising gently from it; in its environs, ornamented with country houses and green fields; in the noble expanse of the St. Lawrence, sprinkled with islands; in its foaming and noisy rapids; and in the bold ridge of the mountain, which forms the back ground of the city, we recognize all the features necessary to a rich and magnificent landscape, and perceive among these indications, decisive proof of a flourishing inland emporium.
• If we experienced some elevation of feeling at the first view of the St. Lawrence, we were not likely to leave our pride cherished by the means which conveyed us over this mighty river. Two Canadian boatmen ferried us over in a canoe, hollowed out of a single log. Our baggage being duly placed, we were desired to sit, face to face, on some clean straw placed on boards which lay across the bottom of the boat; we were situated thus low, that our weight might not