cum fom 'way ober yonder, an' was gwine to de lake to write 'bout a spirit dat is seed dar paddlin' a kunnue. De bar 'gin tu rise on my bed, an' I ax bim ef dat wus a fac'. He sed dat he wus tole so in Norfolk. I shal nebber forgit dat gentman. I fotch him back, an' he gin me de poun' which war five dollars, an' he lef for Norfolk, bein' mitey glad dat I had carried him to de lake. He tole me dat he had trabbled an' seen sites, but dat he nebber wus so 'stonish befo'; he did not 'spec' to see at de end ob de kunel sich a putty place, an' dat I wood bear some time what he was gwine tu say 'bout it."
Our camp lay on the northwest comer of the lake, three miles from the Feeder's mouth. At the start we struck out to the middle of the lake before turning north, so that we took in at first glance the whole wonderful view. For myself, I longed to lay down my paddle and sit there motionless until the sun sank and the moon rose, for a dream and fascination that had drawn me from childhood was now fulfilled and completed. Only the lake of my fancy was much smaller and gloomier than the true lake.
There is no other sheet of water like this anywhere. No other so far removed from the turbulence of life, so defamed, while so beautiful. It
