By special request, we were permitted to sleep that night in the Haunted House and no doubt listened to the first crackling that the old fire-place had known for years. Many bedsteads in the old building were still standing, so we only needed bedding from the hotel to make us comfortable. As we went to sleep we expressed a wish to be interviewed in the still hours of the night by any ghosts or spirits who might happen to like our company; but the spirits must have been absent on a visit that evening, for we slept undisturbed until the old bell, suspended in a tree, rang out the cheery notes of "trout and pickerel." We understand that the Haunted House from that night lost its old-time reputation, and is now frequently brought into requisition as an "Annex," whenever the hotel or "Club House," as it is now called, happens to be full. The "Deserted Village" is rich in natural beauty. Lakes Henderson and Sanford are near at hand, and the lovely Preston Ponds are only five miles distant. * * * Stately and awful was the form of Tahawas, the old scarred warrior king of the mountains, and yet it owns pines that sing like the sea, brooks that warble like the robin, and flowers that scent the air like the orange-blossoms of Italy. _Alfred B. Street._ * * * Resuming our march through Indian Pass, under old Wall-Face Mountain, we reached a comfortable farmhouse at sunset, near North Elba, known by the name of Scott's. The next morning we visited John Brown's house and grave by the old rock, and read the beautiful inscription, "Bury me by the Old Rock, where I used to sit and read the word of God."