are worth mentioning. Over thirty years ago (in 1855), an attempt was made by some enterprising men of Suffolk to open the beauties of the lake to the outer world. It was a worthy project, but it began at the wrong end; the beginning ought to have opened the eyes of the outer world to the beauties of the lake. Colonel Hollidway and others of Suffolk built a large hotel here in the swamp, near where our camp stood. "There were accommodations for one hundred and fifty persons," we read in a Suffolk man's letter, "and a band of music was kept continuously playing." Is this a true story? we ask ourselves, standing on the very site, where not a vestige of hotel remains. To whom did the band play continuously? If people wanted to hear a band why did they come here for it? What business had a band here, anyway? How did the guests reach the lake? Through the Jericho Canal in a lighter, under the snake-fruited bamboo? What a most singular vein of questions we open, thinking of this vanished hotel with its incomprehensible band, "playing continuously!"
"Where did this hotel stand?" we ask Abeham.
"Out dere in de lake, at dat black stump. Dat part of hotel. Dat's all dere's lef. Lake cover'd it all up."
The stump was two hundred yards out in the
