* * *

  Where rosy zephyr lingers
    All the livelong day,
  With health upon his pinions
    And gladness on his way.

  George P. Morris.

* * *

SOURCE OF THE HUDSON.

In our journey from Albany to Plattsburgh, we have indicated various routes to the Adirondacks:  By way of Saratoga and North Creek to Blue Mountain Lake following the course of the Hudson which might therefor be called “The Hudson Gateway;” via Lake George, Westport, and Elizabethtown, suited for carriage and pedestrian trips, and via Plattsburgh, which might be termed “The Northern Portal.”  In addition to these it has been my lot to make several trips up the valley of the Sacandaga to Lake Pleasant and Indian Lake, and via Schroon Lake to Sanford and Lake Henderson—­and four times to ascend the mountain trail of Tahawas to the tiny rills and fountains of the Hudson, but one trip abides in memory distinct and unrivalled, which may be of service to those who wish to visit in fact or fancy the head waters of the Hudson.

=The Tahawas Club.=—­We took the cars one bright August morning from Plattsburgh to Ausable Forks, a distance of twenty miles, hired a team to Beede’s, some thirty miles distant from the “Forks;” took dinner at Keene, and pursued our route up the beautiful valley of the Ausable.

From this point we visited Roaring-Brook Falls, some four hundred feet high, a very beautiful waterfall in the evening twilight.  The next morning we started, bright and early, for the Ausable Ponds.  Four miles brought us to the Lower Ausable.  The historic guide, “old Phelps,” rowed us across the lower lake, pointing out, from our slowly moving and heavily laden scow, “Indian Head” on the left, and the “Devil’s Pulpit” on the right, lifted about eight hundred feet above the level of the lake.  “Phelps” remarked with quaint humor, that he was frequently likened to his Satanic Majesty, as he often took clergymen “up thar.”  The rocky walls of this lake rise from one thousand to fifteen hundred feet high, in many places almost perpendicular.  A large eagle soared above the cliffs, and circled in the air above us, which we took as a good omen of our journey.

* * *

                    The rills
  That feed thee rise among the storied rocks
  Where Freedom built her battle-tower.

  William Wallace.

* * *

After reaching the southern portion of the lake, a trail of a mile and a quarter leads to the Upper Ausable—­the gem of the Adirondacks.  This lake, over two thousand feet above the tide, is surrounded on all sides by lofty mountains.  Our camp was on the eastern shore, and I can never forget the sunset view, as rosy tints lit up old Skylight, the Haystack and the Gothics; nor can I ever forget the evening songs from a camp-fire across the lake, or the “bear story” told by Phelps, a tale never really finished, but made classic and immortal by Stoddard, in his spicy and reliable handbook to the North Woods.