rolled down its declivity. The round stones found there in great
abundance, resembling in size and shape the human head, are taken as
additional proof, for they affirm that these are the heads disgorged by
the serpent, and have been petrified by the waters of the lake. [Footnote:
The author remembers well that in conversation with a Seneca Indian on
this point, he seemed to take it as quite an affront that doubts should be
expressed by the white people as to the reality of this occurrence.]

If nearness of locality will justify a glance of the eye for a moment, to
an object not directly in the line of our pursuit, we might survey in
passing a bold projecting height, not far from the hill Genundewa, marked
by a legend which draws a tear from the eye of the dusky warrior, or sends
him away in a thoughtful mood, with a shade of sadness upon his usually
placid brow. The story is not of the same character and is of a more
recent date than that of the serpent, but is said to be of great
antiquity. It has been written with great beauty by Col. Stone, and as we
are authorized, we present it in his own language.

"During the wars of the Senecas and Algonquins of the north, a chief of
the latter was captured and carried to Genundewa, whereon a fortification,
consisting of a square without bastions, and surrounded by palisades, was
situated. The captive though young in years, was famed for his prowess in
the forest conflict, and nature had been bountiful to his person in those
gifts of strength and symmetry, which awaken savage admiration. After a
short debate he was condemned to die on the following day, by the slow
torture of empalement. While he was thus lying in the cabin of death, a
lodge devoted to condemned prisoners, the daughter of the sachem brought
him food, and struck with his manly form and heroic bearing, resolved to
save him or share his fate. Her bold enterprise was favored by the
uncertain light of the gray dawn, while the solitary sentinel, weary of