The Monster of Lake Lametrie

The Monster of Lake Lametrie By Wardon Allan Curtis.
Being the Narration of James Mclennegan, M.D., Ph.D.
From Pearson's Magazine (1899)
Lake Lametrie, Wyoming, April 1st, 1899.
Prof. Wilhelm G. Breyfogle, University of Taychobera.
DEAR FRIEND, -- Inclosed you will find some portions of the diary it
has been my life-long custom to keep, arranged in such a manner as to
narrate connectedly the history of some remarkable occurrences that
have taken place here during the last three years. Years and years ago, I
heard vague accounts of a strange lake high up in an almost
inaccessible part of the mountains of Wyoming. Various incredible
tales were related of it, such as that it was inhabited by creatures which
elsewhere on the globe are found only as fossils of a long vanished
time.
The lake and its surroundings are of volcanic origin, and not the least
strange thing about the lake is that it is subject to periodic disturbances,
which take the form of a mighty boiling in the centre, as if a
tremendous artesian well were rushing up there from the bowels of the
earth. The lake rises for a time, almost filling the basin of black rocks
in which it rests, and then recedes, leaving on the shores mollusks and
trunks of strange trees and bits of strange ferns which no longer grow --
on the earth, at least -- and are to be seen elsewhere only in coal
measures and beds of stone. And he who casts hook and line into the
dusky waters, may haul forth, ganoid fishes completely covered with
bony plates.
All of this is described in the account written by Father LaMetrie years
ago, and he there advances the theory that the earth is hollow, and that
its interior is inhabited by the forms of plant and animal life which

disappeared from its surface ages ago, and that the lake connects with
this interior region. Symmes' theory of polar orifices is well known to
you. It is amply corroborated. I know that it is true now. Through the
great holes at the poles, the sun sends light and heat into the interior.
Three years ago this month, I found my way through the mountains
here to Lake LaMetrie accompanied by a single companion, our friend,
young Edward Framingham. He was led to go with me not so much by
scientific fervor, as by a faint hope that his health might be improved
by a sojourn in the mountains, for he suffered from an acute form of
dyspepsia that at times drove him frantic.
Beneath an overhanging scarp of the wall of rock surrounding the lake,
we found a rudely-built stone-house left by the old cliff dwellers.
Though somewhat draughty, it would keep out the infrequent rains of
the region, and serve well enough as a shelter for the short time which
we intended to stay.
The extracts from my diary follow:
APRIL 29TH, 1896.
I have been occupied during the past few days in gathering specimens
of the various plants which are cast upon the shore by the waves of this
remarkable lake. Framingham does nothing but fish, and claims that he
has discovered the place where the lake communicates with the interior
of the earth, if, indeed, it does, and there seems to be little doubt of that.
While fishing at a point near the centre of the lake, he let down three
pickerel lines tied together, in all nearly three hundred feet, without
finding bottom. Coming ashore, he collected every bit of line, string,
strap, and rope in our possession, and made a line five hundred feet
long, and still he was unable to find the bottom.
MAY 2ND, EVENING.
The past three days have been profitably spent in securing specimens,
and mounting and pickling them for preservation. Framingham has had
a bad attack of dyspepsia this morning and is not very well. Change of

climate had a brief effect for the better upon his malady, but seems to
have exhausted its force much sooner than one would have expected,
and he lies on his couch of dry water-weeds, moaning piteously. I shall
take him back to civilisation as soon as he is able to be moved.
It is very annoying to have to leave when I have scarcely begun to
probe the mysteries of the place. I wish Framingham had not come with
me. The lake is roaring wildly without, which is strange, as it has been
perfectly calm hitherto, and still more strange because I can neither feel
nor hear the rushing of the wind, though perhaps that is because it is
blowing from the south, and we are protected from it by the cliff. But in
that case there ought to be no waves on this shore. The roaring seems