They spent two days at the lake's outlet, one of them the Sabhath, a wonderfully still, quiet day of the midsummer.

"It is strange," said the Major, "but so it is, that although a quarter of a century hath passed over me since that day, it is still very fresh and sweet in my memory.

Many times, in my musings, I seem to be once more sitting under the beechen trees of Aquedahcan, with my three English friends, and I do verily seem to see the Indians squatted on the lake shore, round a fire, cooking their dishes, and the smoke thereof curling about among the trees over their heads; and beyond them is the great lake and the islands thereof, some big and others exceeding small, and the mountains that do rise on the other side, and whose woody tops show in the still water as in a glass.
And, withal, I do seem to have a sense of the smell of flowers, which did abound there, and of the strawberries with which the old Indian cornfield near unto us was red, they being then ripe and luscious to the taste.

It seems, also, as if I could hear the bark of my dog, and the chatter of squirrels, and the songs of the birds, in the thick woods behind us; and, moreover, the voice of my friend Johnson, as he did call to mind these words of the 104th Psalm: 'Bless the Lord, O my soul! who coverest thyself with light, as with a garment; who stretchest out the heavens like a curtain; who layeth the beams of his chambers in the waters; who maketh the clouds his chariot; and walketh upon the wings of the wind!' Ah me! I shall never truly hear that voice more, unless, through God's mercy, I be permitted to join the saints of light in praise and thanksgiving beside stiller waters and among greener pastures than are those of Aquedahcan." "He was a shining light, indeed," said Mr.Mather, "and, in view of his loss and that of other worthies in Church and State, we may well say, as of old, Help, Lord, for the godly man ceaseth!" Major Willard said that the works of Mr.Johnson did praise him, especially that monument of his piety and learning, "The History of New England; or, Wonder-Working Providence of Sion's Saviour," wherein he did show himself in verse and in prose a workman not to be ashamed.
There was a piece which Mr.Johnson writ upon birchen bark at the head of the Merrimac, during the journey of which he had spoken, which had never been printed, but which did more deserve that honor than much of the rhymes with which the land now aboundeth.

Mr.Mather said he had the piece of bark then in his possession, on which Mr.Johnson did write; and, on our desiring to see it, he brought it to us, and, as we could not well make out the writing thereon, he read it as followeth:-- This lonesome lake, like to a sea, among the mountains lies, And like a glass doth show their shapes, and eke the clouds and skies.
God lays His chambers' beams therein, that all His power may know, And holdeth in His fist the winds, that else would mar the show.
The Lord hath blest this wilderness with meadows, streams, and springs, And like a garden planted it with green and growing things; And filled the woods with wholesome meats, and eke with fowls the air, And sown the land with flowers and herbs, and fruits of savor rare.
But here the nations know him not, and come and go the days, Without a morning prayer to Him, or evening song of praise; The heathen fish upon the lake, or hunt the woods for meat, And like the brutes do give no thanks for wherewithal to eat.
They dance in shame and nakedness, with horrid yells to hear, And like to dogs they make a noise, or screeching owls anear.
Each tribe, like Micah, doth its priest or cunning Powah keep; Yea, wizards who, like them of old, do mutter and do peep.
A cursed and an evil race, whom Satan doth mislead, And rob them of Christ's hope, whereby he makes them poor indeed; They hold the waters and the hills, and clouds, and stars to be Their gods; for, lacking faith, they do believe but what they see.
Yet God on them His sun and rain doth evermore bestow, And ripens all their harvest-fields and pleasant fruits also.
For them He makes the deer and moose, for them the fishes swim, And all the fowls in woods and air are goodly gifts from Him.
Yea, more; for them, as for ourselves, hath Christ a ransom paid, And on Himself, their sins and ours, a common burden laid.
By nature vessels of God's wrath, 't is He alone can give To English or to Indians wild the grace whereby we live.
Oh, let us pray that in these wilds the Gospel may be preached, And these poor Gentiles of the woods may by its truth be reached; That ransomed ones the tidings glad may sound with joy abroad, And lonesome Aquedahcan hear the praises of the Lord! March 18.
My cough still troubling me, an ancient woman, coming in yesterday, did so set forth the worth and virtue of a syrup of her making, that Aunt Rawson sent Effie over to the woman's house for a bottle of it.