"
I need not say how cheerfully we walked these two miles, in spite of the
weight of our saddles, rifles, and accoutrements. Our ascent was soon
over, and striking into a small tortuous deer-path, we perceived below
us the transparent sheet of water, in which a few stars already
reflected their pale and tremulous light. When we reached the shore of
the lake, we found ourselves surrounded by vast and noble ruins, like
those on the Buona Ventura, but certainly much more romantic. Gabriel
welcomed us to his trapping-ground, as a lord in his domain, and soon
brought out a neat little canoe from under a kind of ancient vault.
"This canoe," said he, "once belonged to one of the poor fellows that
was murdered with the Prince Seravalle. We brought it here six years ago
with great secrecy; it cost him twenty dollars, a rifle, and six
blankets. Now, in the middle of this lake there is an island, where he
and I lived together, and where we can remain for months without any
fear of Indians or starvation."
We all three entered the canoe, leaving our saddles behind us, to
recover them on the following day. One hour's paddling brought us to the
island, and it was truly a magnificent spot. It was covered with ruins;
graceful obelisks were shaded by the thick foliage of immense trees, and
the soft light of the moon, beaming on the angles of the ruined
monuments, gave to the whole scenery the hue of an Italian landscape.
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