Toward evening we reached the sluggish outlet of the Saranac Lakes, and at a little before sunset our postilion reined up at Eaker's Inn, two miles from the Lower Lake, and fifty-one from Port Kent. To the lover and student of nature, the artist and the philosopher, the country through w^hich we had passed, and to which only brief allusion may here be made, is among the most inviting spots upon the globe, for magnificent and picturesqi,?"' ■• scenery, mineral wealth, and geological wonders, abound on every side. "'

At Baker's Inn every comfort for a reasonable man was found. Tliere we piocured guides, boats, and provisions for the wilderness; and at a little pai^t noon on the following day we were fairly beyond the sounds of the settlements, upon a placid lake studded with islands, the sun shining in unclouded splendour, and the blue peaks of distant mountains looming above the dense forests that lay in gloomy grandeur between lis and their rugged acclivities.

Our party now consisted of five, Uxo guides having been added to it. One of them was a son of Mr. Baker, the otlier a pure-blooded Penobscot Indian from the slate of Maine. Each had a light boat -- so light that he might carry it upon his shoulders at portages, or the intervals between the navigable portions of streams or lakes. In one of these was borne our luggage, provisions, and Mr. Buckingham, and in the other Mrs. Lossing and myself.

The Saranac Lakes are three iu uumbir, and lie on the south-eastei'u borders of Franklin County, north of Mount Seward. They are known as the Upper, Bound, and Lower. The latter, over which we first voyaged, is six miles in length. From its head we passed along a winding and narrow river, fringed with rushes, lilies, and moose-head plants,