than the houses, in this region-apparently filled with hay or some other inflammable material, on the top of the hill just across the lake. Flames burst forth; the farmers of the neighborhood rushed to the rescue, their forms projected en silhouette against the lurid sky on the crest of the hill. There were no engines, and for two hours the fire burned fiercely, casting a red glare far over the woods and waters, until the barn and adjacent outbuildings were consumed. It was a magnificent bonfire, as we saw it from the hotel-piazza, but it must have been costly to somebody.

On the morrow (Sunday) I completed the voyage to the foot of the lake, the Frontenac being a Sabbathbreaker to the extent of making a trip on the day of rest. The morning was hot, humid and still; but a freshening breeze set the windmills of Aurora a- whirling merrily as we crossed the lake and entered the bay which that charming little village half embraces. Through the trees were visible the red brick walls and pinnacles of Wells College, the Alma Mater of "the First Lady in the Land," Mrs. Grover Cleveland, who is affectionately remembered

553

TAUGHANNOCK FALLS.

there as Miss Frank Folsom. Here, at Aurora, Cayuga Lake spreads out to its greatest width -nearly four miles. The beautiful and stately Lombardy poplars are numerous enough along the shores to give character to the landscape; and several fine ones conspicuously mark the birthplace of the Indian orator, Red Jacket, at Canoga Point, on the western shore, not far above Cayuga Bridge.

Union Springs, with its fairy, elm - tufted islet (the only one in all these Central New York waters, excepting two in Oneida Lake) is the next landing-place. Then we cross over to Cayuga Lake Park, a kind of fresh-water Coney Island, and back again to Cayuga, at the foot of the lake, and thirty-eight miles north of Ithaca. The people here were still talking of the recent visit of Mrs. Cleveland and her party, whose names had been proudly engrossed upon the register of the hotel where

they had taken refuge while waiting for a train on the New York Central.

Cayuga's one lion and historical relic, after the hotelregister above mentioned, is a line of decaying piles marking the remains of the original Cayuga Bridge, which dates back to Indian times, and was a kind of landmark dividing the accessible East from the "Wild West" of the State three-quarters of a century ago. Many a time and oft were the results of an election reversed or discounted by the returns from "beyond Cayuga Bridge."

Across the modern causeway which is the Cayuga Bridge of to-day, and through the luxuriant reeds which gave the lake its Indian name, I sped, bright and early the next morning, on my way to Geneva. It was less than an hour's ride, beside the brawling Seneca River, past paper-mills enough to encourage the most industrious literary aspirant, through the town of Seneca Fallswhose shady streets were fairly ablaze with the red shirts of visiting and local firemen, the date being the everglorious Fourth of July - and amongst orchards aud fields of grain. When Seneca Lake's broad, blue, whitecapped waters suddenly burst into view, the contrast which they presented to those of Cayuga was most surprising. These two lakes lie parallel to each other, are of equal length-forty miles-and of nearly equal width. In fact, on the map they are a pair of twins. But, in reality, they are quite dissimilar. While Cayuga is a placid, pastoral lake, comparatively shallow, and with wooded or swampy shores, Seneca is bold and tempestuous, with clear, cold, steel-blue waters, deep and pitiless, and low shores which sweep away in long lines, as if inclosing an arm of the sea. Nevertheless, it offered temptation for a sail; and to this I determined to devote the limited time of my "stop-over" at Geneva.

On the shaly beach, overhung by gigantic willows and sycamores, I met an ancient mariner, who commanded a fleet of tiny skiffs, and one or two catboats. I proposed to take a row, but he dissuaded me from the idea.

"There's too big a breeze," quoth he. "You'd be swamped in them waves. Swim? not much-the water's as cold as ice. You'd go to the bottom in two minutes. Bodies drowned in this lake ain't never recovered." "Why?" I asked.

"Because the lake ain't got no bottom."

"I thought you said that if I were swamped in one of your skiffs I should go to the bottom in two minutes ?" "Let me take you out in the Susan B., for seventy-five cents, and you won't run no risks," replied the simple Genevese, unabashed.

Impressed with his dexterity in steering out of a controversial tight place, I embarked in the skittish catboat. We beat out beyond the breakwater and lighthouse against a regular gale. An hour, occupied chiefly in bailing out the Susan B., disillusionized me as to the delights of fresh-water sailing; and I paid my gray beard mariner an extra fee to land me at the dock over by the railway station, glad to escape personally testing the alleged bottomlessness of Seneca Lake.

The railway ride to Penn Yan, vid Dresden, takes the traveler along the brink of Seneca's deep basin for fifteen or twenty miles; and the trip cannot fail to give a favorable idea of the beauty and romance of these shores. They offer a constant succession of broad-breasted hills and promontories, sweeping back from the water in graceful lines, and fading in the blue distance. Some of these bills are wooded, but for the most part they are covered with prosperous-looking farms, orchards and vineyards. Legendry, too, has thrown its impalpable but potent

charm about the region. It was here, and along the Seneca River, that the Cayugas, Onondagas, Oneidas, Mohawks and Senecas formed their great league, constituting the Iroquois Nation. Onondaga, it is said, means "upon the hills "; Oneida, "granite people"; Mohawk and Seneca, respectively " possessors of the flint" and “ great hillpeople." The modern orthography of these names, however, represents but faintly the strung-out monosyllabic combinations of the originals, Indian nomenclature being of a roundabout descriptive character, based upon local landmarks.

Dresden boasts of the unique natural curiosity known as the "Lake Guns." This mysterious artillery is heard, but not seen. The "guns" are probably great gas-bubbles, working their way to the surface of the shallows formed by the outlet of Lake Keuka at this point. Rising from the depths of some choked subterranean cavern, the huge bubbles burst on the surface of the water with a peculiar sound, which, on still and sultry Summer nights, resembles the distant booming of cannon.

Lake Keuka, or Crooked Lake, lies about twenty miles to the west of Seneca, and almost parallel to it. At the foot, or northern end of the lake, is the town of Penn Yan. Keuka means Crooked Elbow; and Penn Yan means that once upon a time two pioneers, named respectively Penn and Yan, having started a settlement here and disputed about the naming of it, amalgamated instead of splitting the difference, and jointly immortalized themselves by calling the place Penn Yan.

Arriving rid the amazingly tortuous railroad from Dresden, upon which a train of cars is never once during the whole trip in a straight line, one naturally feels "turned around" at Penn Yan. A good many inquiries are necessary in order to find the lake, of which there is no visible sign about the town save the outlet. I first "followed the crowd" of excursionists-tan-faced country boys and girls in picnic attire, and squads of firemen and militia in imposing but uncomfortable uniforms. They were going up the lake on the Holmes; but as the Holmes lay in the outlet near the railway station, I could see that she was a moderate-sized steamboat with an immoderate crowd already on board, leaving no room even for the traditional "one more." I therefore resumed my explorations afoot in search of Crooked Lake. In response to inquiries, I received hints concerning a certain mysterious "Ark," which seemed to be a popular institution of Penn Yan, and after walking some distance beyond the outskirts of the town, I suddenly came upon it-and the lake. The "Ark" is a roomy wooden structure, making no pretensions as to architecture, but unlimited in its resources for entertainment and comfort, built out on piles over the clear, transparent water. It is a delicious nook, shaded by elms, pines and willows. Within the Ark are creature comforts enough for a second Noah, with all his family and menagerie. A mineral spring bubbles up beside the roadway. Painted skiffs dance at their moorings, and the pure waters invite a plunge. Rustic tables and benches under the trees are occupied by groups who are indisputably enjoying themselves. It seems a place of perpetual picnic. The lake at this end is only about a mile wide, and the opposite shore outspreads a noble panorama, with its broad yellow fields, orchards, vineyards, farms and villages st. etching far to southward and shutting off the view toward Bluff Point.

The charms of Crooked Lake and the Ark lured me from the original comprehensive plan of my lacustrine pi'grimage. I even had a rash thought of letting all the other places go, and staying here, a Keuka lotus-eater,

during the remaining days of my vocation. Although this idea was afterward modified, I did tarry until three or four lakes were blotted out from among the possibilities of my tour. The dainty Canandaigua, the sylvan Skaneateles, and the mountain gem Otsego, one after another slipped quite out of reach; and even the mysterious, broad Oneida began to look very distant and dubious. But fair Keuka was compensation for the loss. One bright morning I embarked on the Urbana and sailed to Hammondsport and back. The lake is twenty-two miles long, and lies upon the boundaries of three counties-Yates, Schuyler and Steuben. About halfway, it is divided into two branches, like the prongs of a fork, by Bluff Point, a noble promontory 700 feet high, and covered with vineyards to the summit. The number of Summer resorts along these shores, as well as the number of steamboats-nearly a score-plying upon the lake, indicate that somebody has discovered Keuka, and that it has sprung into great popularity. Besides the great caravansaries like those at Grove Springs, O-goya-go and Idlewild, there are cozy and artistic private cottages in every sheltered cove.

This region is the great vineyard of New York State. The soil is mostly of a shaly character, rather poor from the ordinary agricultural point of view, but congenial to the culture of the grape. The Keuka vintages consist chiefly of Catawba wines, dry and sweet, and port. The pale golden Catawba of the Hammondsport hills is metamorphosed, with the aid of carbonic-acid gas, into an excellent imitation of champagne, which, sparklingly effervescent in a slender crystal goblet, tempts even the most exacting connoisseur to try its potency to cheer, if not to inebriate. Ten thousand tons of grapes is but a fair estimate of the yield of the Keuka vineyards, for a year like the last one. The Vineyardist, published at Penn Yan, says on this interesting subject: "The acreage in vines in the United States has more than doubled within the past five years, and covers at the present time not less than 300,000 acres. Farmers who talked of planting five and ten acres then, now take fifty and one hundred h the ease and confidence that a thoroughbred would take a hurdle. The increase in quantity has been outstripped in quality of varieties selected, so that it would not be an exaggeration to say that practically our whole system has been revolutionized within the period named. The capital invested in vineyards and vineyard properties in the whole country at the present time is not less than $100,000,000. The present ratio of increase of planting and investment is about 10 per cent. in three years. This ratio, kept up until 1895, will give us, as the result of nine years, $800,000,000 invested in 2,400,000 acres planted; and estimating the product at 400 gallons of wine to the acre (supposing all were made into wine), would yield the round number of 960,000,000 gallons, a quantity equal to the present wine production of France."

Not all of the product of these Keuka Lake vineyards, however, goes to the wine-press. Great quantities of luscious grapes find their way, every Autumn, into the fruit-markets of New York and Philadelphia.

I visited a "basket factory" by the shore, where the bass, chestnut and elm of the adjoining woods was made up by special machinery into the light baskets so common in our markets. The work of putting these together is done by girls, each of whom can turn out from 200 to 300 per day, and for which she is paid at the rate of a cent apiece.

With an au revoir to these baskets, which I trusted to meet again filled with grapes at Washington Market in

October, I turned reluctantly from smiling Keuka, braved the pangs of parting with Noah, Shem, Ham, Japheth, and the rest of the good company at the Ark, and left Penn Yan by the way I had come. On the train of the tortuous brookside railroad, a fine-looking old boy of sixty. five, who was returning from his Fourth-of-July celebration, beguiled the time by pointing out the objects of interest-these being chiefly the various places along the route where trains had run off the track or tumbled into the stream. Once a menagerie came to grief in this way; and the people of the neighborhood, seeing elephants, camels, zebras, and other strange beasts wending their way toward the Ark at Penn Yan, feared that things were rapidly shaping toward a second Deluge.

At Geneva it seemed rather homelike to board a New York Central car once more. I passed through Auburn on the wing, without stopping over to visit silvery little Owasco. At Syracuse the train passed near enough to command a view, through the steam clouds rising from a vast desert of salt vats, of the entire extent of the exaggerated pond which is locally called Onondaga Lake. I was now on a branch of the Rome, Watertown and Ogdensburg Road, bound for Brewertown, on Oneida Lake.

It was late in the afternoon when the train stopped at the little station, set in the midst of daisy-white fields. The stream which lay just beyond, reflecting the sunset's saffron glow, was the Oneida River, the outlet of the lake. A steam launch, bound for "Frenchman's Island," was just casting off her moorings, and as there are no regular excursion steamboats on Oneida Lake, excepting on Sundays, I recognized my sole chance for a sail. the invitation of the captain and his crew-one boy-I clambered in. We steamed up the outlet, and were soon tossing in a strong, warm wind upon the dark waves of the broad lake, the sinking sun paving the waters behind us "with patens of bright gold," while in the distance ahead rose the dim, wooded island which was our destination.

At

Oneida Lake is an exception to the general run of the lakes of New York in almost every particular. They are long, narrow and deep; it is short, broad and shallow. Their trend is uniformly from south to north; Oneida's is from east to west. Their waters are crystalline and cold, fed by living springs; Oneida's are darktinged and warm. With the others, bold or precipitous shores are the rule; the shorelines of Oneida are low, hazy strips, occasionally sinking into marshlands. Moreover, this is the only lake of them all which has islands, with the sole exception of the miniature islet called Frontenac, at Union Springs, in Cayuga Lake. Champlain, the illustrious French navigator and explorer, in the account of one of his inland expeditions over the present New York territory, in 1615-16, mentions the encampment of his party upon a beautiful island in one of the lakes. Historians disputed and doubted as to the identity of the lake in question, until Gen. John S. Clarke, the eminent geologist and antiquarian of Auburn, N. Y., pointed out that it could have been no other than Oneida, which contains the only eligible islands in New York's inland waters.

These two islands, at the western end of Oneida Lake, are virtually one, being separated only by a shallow, reedy strait, which cows can ford at low water. The larger, known as the "Frenchman's Island," is about a mile in circumference, and has some fine old oaks, beeches and maples. It suppports a well-developed Summer hotel, being a favorite resort of excursionists and picnic parties from the surrounding towns. These