For some time I have endeavoured to make an annual visit to Fort Ticonderoga and its neighborhood. September, October and November, before the ground freezes, when the lake is usually the lowest, are the best portions of the year for searching there. On the shores between high and low water marks around the Ticonderoga promontory; at Wright’s Point and on the Orwell shore opposite, the earth is black with flints. These are arrow and spear heads, knives, hammer stones and immense quantities of flakes. But few of the implements are perfect. I account for this condition because of the great numbers of soldiers there in the old wars. As you know, it was their practice to select the best arrow and spear heads and break them into pieces suitable for their flintlocks. But the native flint exists in great abundance in the limestone rocks of the locality; and so it was that, for centuries, the Indians resorted to this region, lived there and made weapons and implements for their own use, and for traffic with other savages passing by. I have obtained 2500 chipped stone implements from these shores alone. One November day, 1896, two of us left Plattsburgh by train at 8.30 a. m., reached Fort Ticonderoga at 10.30, picked up 575 wrought flints, and returning, got home at 6.15 the same evening. So, while I have considered that the great dwelling site in Plattsburgh was the most important for the manufacturing of pottery, and probably had the largest population of any village in the valley, yet certainly the Ticonderoga region surpassed it in the making of chipped implements. On this day of which I speak, my companion stopped on Mount Independence, while I pushed over to the Orwell shore, perhaps a hundred rods away. And, by the way, let me say that the historic ruins on Mount Independence are nearly as interesting as those on the Ticonderoga promontory. I could not see the gentleman on the mountain because of the trees, but when I called out to him, not only his reply came to me, but my voice echoed back first, so quickly, so distinctly and with such force as to startle me. It was uncanny. Turning again to the Jesuit Relations, this time to Volume 51, pages 179–183; in the Relation of 1667–68, written by Francis Mercier, we find an account of the experiences of Fathers Fremin, Pierron and Bruyas, three Jesuits, on the way to the Iroquois country. It was one of these fathers who wrote from Ste. Anne, Isle La Motte, August 12, 1667, the interesting letter, a translation of which was printed in the Burlington Free Press of August 22, 1902.