Asquam Lake and its Environs.
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��every point, and is one of the objects of interest to the visitor in this sec- tion.
The north-western extremity of the lal<e tapers into a picturesque fiord, from which it would not seem strange to see issue half a dozen viking ships, with their dragon or serpent prows, and their rows of bucklers along the gunwales. But it is onlv a fishing craft that one sees there, and the oc- cupants are trolling for land-locked salmon, and have no thought of other plunder. There is a finished look along the shore. A regular wall of rock has been laid along to mark the limit of the water's encroachment, and in some places this wall rises to a height of a dozen or fifteen feet. Huge ledges rise out of the water on all sides, and only a narrow channel is found sutticiently deep for the ad- vance of the little steamer. All these rocks and ledges are completely honeycombed by the action of the waves and the frost, and present a singular appearance. Honeycomb Cove, as it is appropriately called, marks the opening of the fiord, and Squaw Cove is the terminus, both of which lie in Sandwich, under the shadow of Squam mountain.
Squaw Cove derives its name from the fact that formerly there stood upon one of the ledges of the cove a block of granite that bore a strong resemblance to the draped figure of a woman. A few years ago the statue was taken away, and the stone squaw now lies prostrate, broken in twain in the front yard of a farm-house at East Holderness. The aborigines had a legend for everything which they could not account for in any other way, and while the sunshine gleams
��on the ripples of the cove, and the Chelmsford lies at anchor, and the skipper smokes, and even the buoyant colonel checks his jokes and puns, we will recount the Legend of the Stone Squaw.
A long time ago, when only the Indians — the true children of the soil — inhabited this country, there lived a chieftain whose wigwam stood on the shore of this cove, far up un- der the beeches of the hill. His name was Mamon. He was old and wise, and his fame as a warrior was great among all the surrounding tribes. The wife of his youth had long been dead, and the sachem as he grew older longed to have his wig- wam brightened once more by the presence of a woman. There were many maidens in his own tribe who would have rejoiced to become the bride of Mamon, but he had no love for them. Across the lake, where the pines and the elms grew together along the course of Asquam chemuke, there lived a maiden whom he had seen, and whom he loved.
The princess Amata was young and beautiful. She had the grace of a mountain deer, and the skill of a wise woman in concocting dishes for the woodland feast; and she and the young warrior Moowis loved each other; — but the proud chief, her father, had set his heart on wedding her to Mamon, his friend and ally. So the banquet fires were kindled, and Ma- mon rowed across the lake with his choicest warriors, to sit at the feast and wed the fair princess whom his heart loved.
Grand was the feasting among the braves, and lithesome the dances of the duskv Indian women, and among
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