The state of New-York contains a vast number of small lakes. There is scarcely a stream in the northern part of this state, but that has its source in one of these, or runs through several in its progress, whether to the great lakes or to Hudson’s river. _Seneca Lake_, in the western part of the state, is about thirty-five miles in length, from two to four in breadth, and of great depth. The water of this lake has a gradual periodical rise and fall, once in several years, the cause of which has never been ascertained. The view from the height of land between Seneca and the adjacent lakes is extensive and agreeable. _Cayuga Lake_ is thirty-eight miles long from north to south, and from one to four miles wide; in some places the shore of this lake is precipitous, but in general it is a gentle declivity from the surrounding country to the water. The waters are somewhat shallow, but sufficient for navigation. Several steam-boats ply upon them, and are often crowded by water parties in the fine season. A bridge of a mile in length crosses the north end of the lake. _Oneida Lake_ is a beautiful sheet of water, twenty miles long and four broad. It is famous for the abundance and excellence of its fish. ‘I made a small excursion along the border of this lake,’ says Mr. Schultz, ‘and although the shore was low, yet I found a firm, dry, white, sandy beach to walk upon; some other parts of it, however, I was informed, were low and swampy. I was much amused in the evening by a singular illumination upon the lake, which I was at first wholly unable to account for. The water at this part of the lake, it seems, is very shallow for nearly half a mile from the shore, and being perfectly transparent, and the bottom a white sand, the smallest object may be readily distinguished. The Indians have a method of taking salmon and other fish by means of an iron frame fixed in the bow of the canoe, projecting forward three or four feet, and elevated about five; upon this they kindle a bright fire of pine knots, and while one person sits in the stern with a paddle to impel the boat forward, another stands in the bow with a sharp spear ready to strike the fish who play about the light. Ten or twelve of these canoes moving about irregularly on the lake, on a fine calm evening, with the reflection of their lights, like so many lines of fire, extending from each object to a centre on which you stand, afford a most pleasing prospect, and far exceeds in my opinion the most brilliant display of artificial fireworks.’