A Wilder And More Romantic Spot Than That Which The Old Hunter
Had Chosen For His Homestead In The Wilderness Could Scarcely Be
Imagined.
The waters of Clear Lake here empty themselves through a
narrow, deep, rocky channel, not exceeding a quarter of a mile in
length, and tumble over a limestone ridge of ten or twelve feet in
height, which extends from one bank of the river to the other.
The
shores on either side are very steep, and the large oak-trees which
have anchored their roots in every crevice of the rock, throw their
fantastic arms far over the foaming waterfall, the deep green of
their massy foliage forming a beautiful contrast with the white,
flashing waters that foam over the shoot at least fifty feet below
the brow of the limestone rock. By a flight of steps cut in the
banks we ascended to the platform above the river on which Mr.
Y - -'s house stood.
It was a large, rough-looking, log building, surrounded by barns and
sheds of the same primitive material. The porch before the door was
covered with hops, and the room of general resort, into which it
immediately opened, was of large dimensions, the huge fire-place
forming the most striking feature. On the hearth-stone, hot as was
the weather, blazed a great fire, encumbered with all sorts of
culinary apparatus, which, I am inclined to think, had been called
into requisition for our sole benefit and accommodation.
The good folks had breakfasted long before we started from home,
but they would not hear of our proceeding to Stony Lake until after
we had dined.
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