MOOSEHEAD LAKE.--My first visit to Moosehead lake was in the early winter of 1834. At that time it was still in the wilderness, only two settlers having found their way to its shores. We were going with a six ox team to a camp on the Brasua and our road led us across the frozen lake. Emerging from a beech and maple grove on the margin near Haskell's, our sled plunged downward, and in a moment we found ourselves on the gray ice of the lake, with a wonderful panorama spread out before us. The distant islands and the shores, hilly and mountainous, stood out plainly between the winter sky and the ice covered lake. The mirage added its finishing touches to the picture, increasing the brightness and apparent size of distant objects, or lending them brilliant hues, the whole scene sparkling in the frosty sunlit air, making a vision of beauty that could not fade. On we trudged over the ice, the sled creaking, the ice emitting a roaring sound, not unlike the discharge of a park of artillery, sounds produced by the expansion of the ice. We trudged on past islands and craggy, rock-bound shores, passed Burnt Jacket, Squaw and Moxey mountains in the east, Lily and Spencer bays at the southeast, Misery and other mountains in the west, while far away to the north of east towered white old Katahdin. Before us loomed up the flint rock Kinneo, its perpendicular face fronting west, on the lake; at the base a beautiful maple interval extending toward Spencer bay. The following spring our boom lay wind-bound at the base of Kinneo, and we seized the opportunity of climbing the vast pile of flinty rocks composing it, and obtained thence a view of unparalleled beauty, including the broad, bright lake, fairy islands, mountains and hills and vast stretches of pine forests. The tourist might seek far and wide, vainly, for a landscape rivaling this.