Summer on the lakes, in 1843

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SUMMER ON THE LAKES

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SUMMER ON THE LAKES,

1

IN 1843.

BY

S. M. FULLER.

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BOSTON:
CHARLES C. LITTLE AND JAMES BROWN.
NEW YORK:
• CHARLES S. FRANCIS AND COMPANY.

MDCCCXLIV.

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{

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Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 18-44,

By S. M. Fuller,
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts

*

^

*

boston:

PRINTED BY FREEMAN AND BOLLES,
WASHINGTON STREET.

SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

Si mmt.r days of busy leisure,

Long summer days of dear-bought pleasure,

You have done your- teaching well ;

Had the scholar means to tell

How grew the vine of bitter-sweet,

What made the path for truant feet,

Winter nights would quickly pass,

Gazing on the magic glass

< > < r which the new-world shadows pass ;

15 1 it , in fault of wizard spell,

\i oderns their tale can only tell

In dull words, with a poor reed

Breaking at each time of Deed.

Bui those to whom a hint suffices

Mottoes find for all devices,

See the knights behind their shields,
Through dried grasses, blooming fields.

■ * '~*mt\ J- J( -^

TO A FRIEND.

Some dried grass-tufts from the wide flowery plain,
A muscle shell from the lone fairy shore,
Some antlers from tall woods which never more
To the wild deer a safe retreat can yield,
An eagle's feather which adorned a Brave,
Well-nigh the last of his despairing band,
For such slight gifts wilt thou extend thy hand
When weary hours a brief refreshment crave ?
I give you what I can, not what I would,
If my small drinking-cup would hold a flood,
As Scandinavia suno- those must contain
With which the giants gods may entertain ;
In our dwarf day we drain few drops, and soon must
thirst again.

CHAPTER I.

Niagara, June 10, 1843.

Since you are to share with me such foot-notes as
may be made on the pages of my life during this
summer's wanderings, I should not be quite silent as
to this magnificent prologue to the, as yet, unknown
drama. Yet I, like others, have little to say where
the spectacle is, for once, great enough to fill the
whole life, and supersede thought, giving us only its
own presence. " It is good to be here," is the best
as the simplest expression that occurs to the mind.

We have been here eight days, and I am quite
willing to go away. So great a sight soon satisfies,
making us content with itself, and with what is less
than itself. Our desires, once realized, haunt us
again less readily. Having " lived one day " we
would depart, and become worthy to live another.

We have not been fortunate in weather, for there
cannot be too much, or too warm sunlight for this
scene, and the skies have been lowering, with cold,
unkind winds. My nerves, too much braced up by
such an atmosphere, do not well bear the continual
stress of sight and sound. For here there is no
escape from the weight of a perpetual creation ; all
other forms and motions come and go, the tide rises

SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

and recedes, the wind, at its mightiest, moves in
gales and gusts, but here is really an incessant, an
indefatigable motion. Awake or asleep, there is no
escape, still this rushing round you and through you.
It is in this way I have most felt the grandeur —
somewhat eternal, if not infinite.

At times a secondary music rises ; the cataract
seems to seize its own rhythm and sing it over again,
so that the ear and soul are roused by a double vi-
bration. This is some effect of the wind, causing
echoes to the thundering anthem. It is very sub-
lime, giving the effect of a spiritual repetition through
all the spheres.

When I first came I felt nothing but a quiet
satisfaction. I found that drawings, the panorama,
&c. had given me a clear notion of the position and
proportions of all objects here ; I knew where to
look for everything, and everything looked as I
thought it would.

Long ago, I was looking from a hill-side with a
friend at one of the finest sunsets that ever enriched
this world. A little cow-boy, trudging along, won-
dered what we could be gazing at. After spying
about some time, he found it could only be the sun-
set, and looking, too, a moment, he said approvingly
" that sun looks well enough ;" a speech worthy of
Shakspeare's Cloten, or the infant Mercury, up to
everything from the cradle, as you please to take it.

Even such a familiarity, worthy of Jonathan, our
national hero, in a prince's palace, or " stumping"
as he boasts to have done, " up the Vatican stairs,
into the Pope's presence, in my old boots," I felt

NIAGARA. 5

here ; it looks really well enough, I felt, and was
inclined, as you suggested, to give my approbation
as to the one object in the world that would not
disappoint.

But all great expression, which, on a superficial
survey, seems so easy as well as so simple, furnishes,
after a while, to the faithful observer its own standard
by which to appreciate it. Daily these proportions
widened and towered more and more upon my sight,
and I got, at last, a proper foreground for these sub-
lime distances. Before coming away, I think I really
saw the full wonder of the scene. After awhile it so
drew me into itself as to inspire an undefined dread,
such as I never knew before, such as may be felt
when death is about to usher us into a new existence.
The perpetual trampling of the waters seized my
senses. I felt that no other sound, however near,
could be heard, and would start and look behind me
for a foe. I realized the identity of that mood of
nature in which these waters were poured down
with such absorbing force, with that in which the
Indian was shaped on the same soil. For continually
upon my mind came, unsought and unwelcome,
images, such as never haunted it before, of naked
savages stealing behind me with uplifted tomahawks ;
again and again this illusion recurred, and even after
I had thought it over, and tried to shake it oft', I
could not help starting and looking behind me.

As picture, the Falls can only be seen from the
British side. There they are seen in their veils, and
at sufficient distance to appreciate the magical effects
of these, and the light and shade. From the boat,

1*

6 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

as you cross, the effects and contrasts are more melo-
dramatic. On the road back from the whirlpool, we
saw them as a reduced picture with delight. But
what I liked best was to sit on Table Rock, close to
the great fall. There all power of observing details,
all separate consciousness, was quite lost.

Once, just as I had seated myself there, a man
came to take his first look. He walked close up to
the fall, and, after looking at it a moment, with an
air as if thinking how he could best appropriate it to
his own use, he spat into it.

This trait seemed wholly worthy of an age whose
love of utility is such that the Prince Puckler Mus-
kau suggests the probability of men coming to put
the bodies of their dead parents in the fields to fer-
tilize them, and of a country such as Dickens has
described ; but these will not, I hope, be seen on the
historic page to be truly the age or truly the America.
A little leaven is leavening the whole mass for other
bread.

The whirlpool I like very much. It is seen to ad-
vantage after the great falls ; it is so sternly solemn.
The river cannot look more imperturbable, almost sul-
len in its marble green, than it does just below the
great fall ; but the slight circles that mark the hidden
vortex, seem to whisper mysteries the thundering
voice above could not proclaim, — a meaning as un-
told as ever.

It is fearful, too, to know, as you look, that what-
ever has been swallowed by the cataract, is like to
rise suddenly to light here, whether up-rooted tree,
or body of man or bird.

NIAGARA. 7

The rapids enchanted me far beyond what I ex-
pected ; they are so swift that they cease to seem so ;
you can think only of their beauty. The fountain
beyond the Moss Islands, I discovered for myself, and
thought it for some time an accidental beauty which
it would not do to leave, lest I might never see it
again. After I found it permanent, I returned many
times to watch the play of its crest. In the little
waterfall beyond, nature seems, as she often does, to
have made a study for some larger design. She delights
in this, — a sketch within a sketch, a dream within a
dream. Wherever we sec it, the lines of the great
buttress in the fragment of stone, the hues of the
waterfall, copied in the flowers that star its bordering
mosses, we are delighted ; for all the lineaments be-
come fluent, and we mould the scene in congenial
thought with its genius.

People complain of the buildings at Niagara, and
fear to sec it further deformed. I cannot sympathize
with such an apprehension : the spectacle is capable
to swallow up all such objects ; they are not seen in
the great whole, more than an earthworm in a wide
field.

The beautiful wood on Goat Island is full of flow-
ers ; many of the fairest love to do homage here.
The Wake Robin and May Apple arc in bloom now ;
the former, white, pink, green, purple, copying the
rainbow of the fall, and fit to make a garland for its
prqsiding deity when he walks the land, for they
are of imperial size, and shaped like stones for a dia-
dem. Of the May Apple, I did not raise one green
tent without finding a flower beneath.

8 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

And now farewell, Niagara. I have seen thee,
and I think all who come here must in some sort see
thee ; thou art not to be got rid of as easily as the
stars. I will be here again beneath some flooding
July moon and sun. Owing to the absence of light,
I have seen the rainbow only two or three times by
day ; the lunar bow not at all. However, the impe-
rial presence needs not its crown, though illustrated
by it.

General Porter and Jack Downing were not un-
suitable figures here. The former heroically planted
the bridges by which we cross to Goat Island, and
the Wake-Robin-crowned genius has punished his
termerity with deafness, which must, I think, have
come upon him when he sank the first stone in the
rapids. Jack seemed an acute and entertaining rep-
resentative of Jonathan, come to look at his great
water-privilege. He told us all about the American-
isms of the spectacle ; that is to say, the battles that
have been fought here. It seems strange that men
could fight in such a place ; but no temple can still the
personal griefs and strifes in the breasts of its visiters.

No less strange is the fact that, in this neighbor-
hood, an eagle should be chained for a plaything.
When a child, I used often to stand at a window
from which I could see an eagle chained in the bal-
cony of a museum. The people used to poke at it
with sticks, and my childish heart would swell with
indignation as I saw their insults, and the mien with
which they were borne by the monarch-bird. Its
eye was dull, and its plumage soiled and shabby, yet,
in its form and attitude, all the king was visible, though

NIAGARA.

sorrowful and dethroned. I never saw another of
the family till, when passing through the Notch of
the White Mountains, at that moment striding be-
fore us in all the panoply of sunset, the driver
shouted, " Look there ! " and following witli our
eyes his upward-pointing finger, we saw, soaring slow
in majestic poise above the highest summit, the bird
of Jove. It was a glorious sight, yet I know not
that I felt more on seeing the bird in all its natural
freedom and royalty, than when, imprisoned and in-
sulted, he had filled my early thoughts with the By-
ronic " silent rages " of misanthropy.

Now, again, I saw him a captive, and addressed by
the vulgar with the language they seem to find most
appropriate to such occasions — that of thrusts and
blows. Silently, his head averted, he ignored their
existence, as Plotinus or Sophocles might that of a
modern reviewer. Probably, he listened to the voice
of the cataract, and felt that congenial powers flowed
free, and was consoled, though his own wing was
broken.

The story of the P^ecluse of Niagara interested
me a little. It is wonderful that men do not oftener
attach their lives to localities of great beauty — that,
when once deeply penetrated, they will let themselves
so easily be borne away by the general stream of
things, to live any where and any how. But there is
something ludicrous in being the hermit of a show-
place^ unlike St. Francis in his mountain-bed, where
none but the stars and rising sun ever saw him.

There is also a "guide to the falls," who wears
his title labeled on his hat ; otherwise, indeed, one

10 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

might as soon think of asking for a gentleman usher
to point out the moon. Yet why should we wonder
at such, either, when we have Commentaries on
Shakspeare, and Harmonies of the Gospels ?

And now you have the little all I have to write.
Can it interest you ? To one who has enjoyed the
full life of any scene, of any hour, what thoughts '
can be recorded about it, seem like the commas and
semicolons in the paragraph, mere stops. Yet I
suppose it is not so to the absent. At least, I have
read things written about Niagara, music, and the
like, that interested me. Once I was moved bv Mr.
Greenwood's remark, that he could not realize this
marvel till, opening his eyes the next morning after
he had seen it, his doubt as to the possibility of its
being still there, taught him what he had experienced.
I remember this now with pleasure, though, or be-
cause, it is exactly the opposite to what I myself felt.
For all greatness affects different minds, each in " its
own particular kind," and the variations of testimony
mark the truth of feeling.

I will add a brief narrative of the experience of
another here, as being much better than anything I
could write, because more simple and individual.

" Now that I have left this c Earth-wonder,' and
the emotions it excited are past, it seems not so much
like profanation to analyze my feelings, to recall mi-
nutely and accurately the effect of this manifestation
of the Eternal. But one should go to such a scene
prepared to yield entirely to its influences, to forget
one's little self and one's little mind. To see a misera-
ble worm creep to the brink of this falling world of

NIAGARA. 11

waters, and watch the trembling of its own petty
bosom, and fancy that this is made alone to act upon
him excites — derision ? — No, — pity."

As I rode up to the neighborhood of the falls, a
solemn awe imperceptibly stole over me, and the
deep sound of the ever-hurrying rapids prepared
my mind for the lofty emotions to be experienced.
When I reached the hotel, I felt a strange indiffer-
ence about seeing the aspiration of my life's hopes.
I lounged about the rooms, read the stage bills upon
the walls, looked over the register, and, finding the
name of an acquaintance, sent to see if he was still
there. What this hesitation arose from, I know
not ; perhaps it was a feeling of my unworthiness to
enter this temple which nature has erected to its
God.

At last, slowly and thoughtfully I walked down to
the bridge leading to Goat Island, and when I stood
upon this frail support, and saw a quarter of a mile
of tumbling, rushing rapids, and heard their everlast-
ing roar, my emotions overpowered me, a choaking
sensation rose to my throat, a thrill rushed through
my veins, "my blood ran rippling to my finger's
ends." This was the climax of the effect which the
falls produced upon me — neither the American nor
the British fall moved me as did these rapids. For
the magnificence, the sublimity of the latter I was
prepared by descriptions and by paintings. When I
arrived in sight of them I merely felt, u ah, yes, here
is the fall, just as I have seen it in picture." When
I arrived at the terrapin bridge, I expected to be
overwhelmed, to retire trembling from this giddy

12 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

eminence, and gaze with unlimited wonder and awe
upon the immense mass rolling on and on, but,
somehow or other, I thought only of comparing the
effect on my mind with what I had read and heard.
I looked for a short time, and then with almost a
feeling of disappointment, turned to go to the other
points of view to see if I was not mistaken in not
feeling any surpassing emotion at this sight. But
from the foot of Biddle's stairs, and the middle of
the river, and from below the table rock, it was still
" barren, barren all." And, provoked with my stu-
pidity in feeling most moved in the wrong place, I
turned away to the hotel, determined to set off for
Buffalo that afternoon. But the stage did not go,
and, after nightfall, as there was a splendid moon, I
went down to the bridge, and leaned over the para-
pet, where the boiling rapids came down in their
might. It was grand, and it was also gorgeous ; the
yellow rays of the moon made the broken waves
appear like auburn tresses twining around the black
rocks. But they did not inspire me as before. I
felt a foreboding of a mightier emotion to rise up
and swallow all others, and I passed on to the ter-
rapin bridge. Everything was changed, the misty
apparition had taken off its many-colored crown
which it had worn by day, and a bow of silvery
white spanned its summit. The moonlight gave a
poetical indefiniteness to the distant parts of the
waters, and while the rapids were glancing in her
beams, the river below the falls was black as night,
save where the reflection of the sky gave it the ap-
pearance of a shield of blued steel. No gaping

NIAGARA. 13

tourists loitered, eyeing with their glasses, or sketch-
ing on cards the hoary locks of the ancient river god.
All tended to harmonize with the natural grandeur
of the scene. I gazed long. I saw how here muta-
bility and unchangeableness were united. I surveyed
the conspiring waters rushing against the rocky ledge
to overthrow it at one mad plunge, till, like toppling
ambition, o'erleaping themselves, they fall on t'other
side, expanding into foam ere they reach the deep
channel where they creep submissively away.

Then arose in my breast a genuine admiration,
and a humble adoration of the Being who was the
architect of this and of all. Happy were the first
discoverers of Niagara, those who could come una-
wares upon this view and upon that, whose feelings
were entirely their own. Witli what gusto does
Father Hennepin describe " this great downfall of
water," " this vast and prodigious cadence of water,
which falls down after a surprising and astonishing
manner, insomuch that the universe does not ailbrd
its parallel. 'Tis true Italy and Swedeland boast of
some such things, but we may well say that they be
sorry patterns when compared with this of which we
do now speak."

CHAPTER II.

THE LAKES.

Scene, Steamboat — About to leave Buffalo —
Baggage coming on board — Passengers bust-
ling for their berths — Little boys persecuting
everybody with their newspapers and pamphlets
— J., S. and M. huddled up in a forlorn corner,
behind a large trunk — A heavy rain falling.

M. Water, water everywhere. After Niagara
one would like a dry strip of existence. And at
any rate it is quite enough for me to have, it under
foot without having it over head in this way.

J. Ah, do not abuse the gentle element. It is
hardly possible to have too much of it, and indeed, if
I were obliged to choose amid the four, it would be
the one in which I could bear confinement best.

& You would make a pretty Undine, to be
sure !

J. Nay, I only offered myself as a Triton, a
boisterous Triton of the sounding shell. You, M. I
suppose, would be a salamander, rather.

M. No ! that is too equivocal a position, whether

THE LAKES. 15

in modern mythology, or Hoffman's tales. I should
choose to be a gnome.

J. That choice savors of the pride that apes
humility.

M. By no means ; the gnomes are the most im-
portant of all the elemental tribes. Is it not they
who make the money ?

J. And are accordingly a dark, mean, scoff-
ing

M. You talk as if you had always lived in that
wild unprofitable element you are so fond of, where
all things glitter, and nothing is gold ; all show and
no substance. My people work in the secret, and
their works praise them in the open light ; they re-
main in the dark because only there such marvels
could be bred. You call them mean. They do not
spend their energies on their own growth, or their
own play, but to feed the veins of mother earth with
permanent splendors, very different from what she
shows on the surface.

Think of passing a life, not merely in heaping
together, but making gold. Of all dreams, that of
the alchymist is the most poetical, for he looked at
the finest symbol. Gold, says one of our friends, is
the hidden light of the earth, it crowns the mineral,
as wine the vegetable order, being the last expres-
sion of vital energy.

J. Have you paid for your passage ?

M. Yes ! and in gold, not in shells or pebbles.

J. No really wise gnome would scoff at the
water, the beautiful water. " The spirit of man is
like the water."

16 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

S. Yes, and like the air and fire, no less.

J. Yes, but not like the earth, this low-minded
creature's chosen dwelling.

M. The earth is spirit made fruitful, — life.
And its heart-beats are told in gold and wine.

J. Oh ! it is shocking to hear such sentiments in
these times. I thought that Bacchic energy of yours
was long since repressed.

M. No ! I have only learned to mix water with
my wine, and stamp upon my gold the heads of
kings, or the hieroglyphics of worship. But since I
have learnt to mix with water, let's hear what you
have to say in praise of your favorite.

J. From water Venus was born, what more
would you have ? It is the mother of Beauty, the
girdle of earth, and the marriage of nations.

S. Without any of that high-flown poetry, it is
enough, I think, that it is the great artist, turning all
objects that approach it to picture.

J. True, no object that touches it, whether it be
the cart that ploughs the wave for sea- weed, or the
boat or plank that rides upon it, but is brought at
once from the demesne of coarse utilities into that of
picture. All trades, all callings, become picturesque
by the water's side, or on the water. The soil, the
slovenliness is washed out of every calling by its
touch. All river-crafts, sea-crafts, are picturesque,
are poetical. Their very slang is poetry.

M. The reasons for that are complex.

J. The reason is, that there can be no plodding,
groping words and motions, on my water as there
are on your earth. There is no time, no chance for

THE LAKES. 17

them where all moves so rapidly, though so smoothly,
everything connected with water must be like itself,
forcible, but clear. That is why sea-slang is so
poetical ; there is a word for everything and every
act, and a thing and an act for every word. Sea-
men must speak quick and bold, but also with utmost
precision. They cannot reef and brace other than in
a Homeric dialect — therefore, — (Steamboat bell
rings.) But I must say a quick good-by.

M. What, going, going back to earth after all
this talk upon the other side. Well, that is nowise
Homeric, but truly modern.

J. is borne off without time for any reply, but a
laugh — at himself, of course.

S. and M. retire to their state-rooms to forget the
wet, the chill and steamboat smell in their just-bought
new world of novels.

Next day, when we stopped at Cleveland, the storm
was just clearing up; ascending the bluff, we had one
of the finest views of the lake that could have been
wished. The varying depths of these lakes give to
their surface a great variety of coloring, and beneath
this wild sky and changeful lights, the waters present-
ed kaleidoscopic varieties of hues, rich, but mournful.
I admire these bluffs of red, crumbling earth. Here
land and water meet under very different auspices
from those of the rock-bound coast to which I have
been accustomed. There they meet tenderly to chal-
lenge, and proudly to refuse, though not in fact re-
pel. But here they meet to mingle, are always rush-
ing together, and changing places ; a new creation
takes place beneath the eye.
2*

18 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

The weather grew gradually clearer, but not bright ;
yet we could see the shore and appreciate the extent
of these noble waters.

Coming up the river St. Clair, we saw Indians for
the first time. They were camped out on the bank.
It was twilight, and their blanketed forms, in listless
groups or stealing along the bank, with a lounge and
a stride so different in its wildness from the rudeness
of the white settler, gave me the first feeling that I
really approached the West.

The people on the boat were almost all New Eng-
landers, seeking their fortunes. They had brought
with them their habits of calculation, their cautious
manners, their love of polemics. It grieved me to
hear these immigrants who were to be the fathers of
a new race, all, from the old man down to the little
girl, talking not of what they should do, but of what
they should get in the new scene. It was to them a
prospect, not of the unfolding nobler energies, but of
more ease, and larger accumulation. It wearied me,
too, to hear Trinity and Unity discussed in the poor,
narrow doctrinal way on these free waters ; but that
will soon cease, there is not time for this clash of
opinions in the West, where the clash of material in-
terests is so noisy. They will need the spirit of
religion more than ever to guide them, but will
find less time than before for its doctrine. This
change was to me, who am tired of the war of words
on these subjects, and believe it only sows the wind
to reap the whirlwind, refreshing, but I argue nothing
from it ; there is nothing real in the freedom of thought
at the West, it is from the position of men's lives, not

THE LAKES. 19

the state of their minds. So soon as they have time,
unless they grow better meanwhile, they will cavil and
criticise, and judge other men by their own standard,
and outrage the law of love every way, just as they
do with us.

We reached Mackinaw the evening of the third
day, but, to my great disappointment, it was too late
and too rainy to go ashore. The beauty of the island,
though seen under the most unfavorable circum-
stances, did not disappoint my expectations. But I
shall see it to more purpose on my return.

As the day has passed dully, a cold rain prevent-
ing us from keeping out in the air, my thoughts have
been dwelling on a story told when we were ofT De-
troit, this morning, by a fellow passenger, and whose
moral beauty touched me profoundly.

Some years ago, said Mrs. L., my father and mother
stopped to dine at Detroit. A short time before din-
ner my father met in the hall Captain P., a friend of
his youthful days. He had loved P. extremely, as
did many who knew him, and had not been surprised
to hear of the distinction and popular esteem which
his wide knowledge, talents, and noble temper com-
manded, as he went onward in the world. P. was
every way fitted to succeed ; his aims were high, but
not too high for his powers, suggested by an instinct
of his own capacities, not by an ideal standard drawn
from culture. Though steadfast in his course, it was
not to overrun others, his wise self-possession was no
less for them than himself. He was thoroughly the
gentleman, gentle because manly, and was a striking
instance that where there is strength for sincere cour-

20 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

tesy, there is no need of other adaptation to the char-
acter of others, to make one's way freely and grace-
fully through the crowd.

My father was delighted to see him, and after a
short parley in the hall — " We will dine together,"
he cried, " then we shall have time to tell all our
stories."

P. hesitated a moment, then said, " My wife is with
me."

" And mine with me," said my father, " that's well ;
they, too, will have an opportunity of getting acquaint-
ed and can entertain one another, if they get tired of
our college stories."

P. acquiesced, with a grave bow, and shortly after
they all met in the dining-room. My father was
much surprised at the appearance of Mrs. P. He
had heard that his friend married abroad, but nothing
further, and he was not prepared to see the calm, dig-
nified P. with a woman on his arm, still handsome,
indeed, but whose coarse and imperious expression
showed as low habits of mind as her exaggerated dress
and gesture did of education. Nor could there be a
greater contrast to my mother, who, though under-
standing her claims and place with the certainty of a
lady, was soft and retiring in an uncommon degree.

However, there was no time to wonder or fancy ;
they sat down, and P. engaged in conversation, with-
out much vivacity, but with his usual ease. The first
quarter of an hour passed well enough. But soon it
was observable that Mrs. P. was drinking glass after
glass of wine, to an extent few gentlemen did, even
then, and soon that she was actually excited by it.

THE LAKES. 21

Before this, her manner had been brusque, if not con-
temptuous towards her new acquaintance ; now it
became, towards my mother especially, quite rude.
Presently she took up some slight remark made by
my mother, which, though it did not naturally mean
anything of the sort, could be twisted into some re-
flection upon England, and made it a handle, first
of vulgar sarcasm, and then, upon my mother's de-
fending herself with some surprise and gentle dignity,
hurled upon her a volley of abuse, beyond Billings-
gate.

My mother, confounded, feeling scenes and ideas
presented to her mind equally new and painful, sat
trembling ; she knew not what to do, tears rushed in-
to her eyes. My father, no less distressed, yet un-
willing to outrage the feelings of his friend by doing
or saying what his indignation prompted, turned an
appealing look on P.

Never, as he often said, was the painful expression
of that sight effaced from his mind. It haunted his
dreams and disturbed his waking thoughts. P. sat
with his head bent forward, and his eyes cast down,
pale, but calm, witli a fixed expression, not merely of
patient wo, but of patient shame, which it would not
have been thought possible for that noble counten-
ance to w7ear, " yet," said my father, " it became him.
At other times he was handsome, but then beautiful,
though of a beauty saddened and abashed. For a
spiritual light borrowed from the worldly perfection
of his mien that illustration by contrast, which the
penitence of the Magdalen docs from the glowing
earthliness of her charms."

22 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

Seeing that he preserved silence, while Mrs. P.
grew still more exasperated, my father rose and led
his wife to her own room. Half an hour had passed,
in painful and wondering surmises, when a gentle
knock was heard at the door, and P. entered equipped
for a journey. " We are just going," he said, and
holding out his hand, but without looking at them,
" Forgive."

They each took his hand, and silently pressed it,
then he went without a word more.

Some time passed and they heard now and then of
P., as he passed from one army station to another,
with his uncongenial companion, who became, it was
said, constantly more degraded. Whoever mentioned
having seen them, wondered at the chance which had
yoked him to such a woman, but yet more at the
silent fortitude with which he bore it. Many blamed
him for enduring it, apparently without efforts to
check her; others answered that he had probably
made such at an earlier period, and finding them un-
availing, had resigned himself to despair, and was too
delicate to meet the scandal that, with such a resist-
ance as such a woman could offer, must attend a formal
separation.

But my father, who was not in such haste to come
to conclusions, and substitute some plausible explana-
tion for the truth, found something in the look of P.
at that trying moment to which none of these expla-
nations offered a key. There was in it, he felt, a
fortitude, but not the fortitude of the hero, a religious
submission, above the penitent, if not enkindled with
the enthusiasm of the martyr.

THE LAKES. 23

nave said that my father was not one of those
• v^lio are ready to substitute specious explanations for
truth, and those who are thus abstinent rarely lay
their hand on a thread without making it a clue.
Such an one, like the dexterous weaver, lets not one
color go, till he finds that which matches it in the pat-
tern ; he keeps on weaving, but chooses his shades,
and my father found at last what he wanted to make
out the pattern for himself. He met a lady who had
been intimate with both himself and P. in early days,
and finding she had seen the latter abroad, asked if
she knew the circumstances of the marriage. " The
circumstances of the act I know," she said, " which
sealed the misery of our friend, though as much in
the dark as any one about the motives that led to it."

We were quite intimate with P. in London, and
he was our most delightful companion. He was then
in the full flower of the varied accomplishments, which
set off his fine manners and dignified character, join-
ed, towards those he loved, with a certain soft wil-
lingness which gives the desirable chivalry to a man.
None was more clear of choice where his personal
affections were not touched, but where they were, it
cost him pain to say no, on the slightest occasion.
I have thought this must have had some connexion
with the mystery of his misfortunes.

One day he called on me, and, without any preface,
asked if I would be present next day at his marriage.
I was so surprised, and so unpleasantly surprised,
that I did not at first answer a word. We had been
on terms so familiar, that I thought I knew all about
him, yet had never dreamed of his having an attach-

24 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

ment, and, though I had never inquired on the sub-
ject, yet this reserve, where perfect openness had been
supposed, and really, on my side, existed, seemed to
me a kind of treachery. Then it is never pleasant to
know that a heart, on which we have some claim, is
to be given to another. We cannot tell how it will
affect our own relations with a person; it may
strengthen or it may swallow up other affections;
the crisis is hazardous, and our first thought, on such
an occasion, is too often for ourselves, at least, mine
was. Seeing me silent, he repeated his question.

To whom, said I, are you to be married ?

That, he replied, I cannot tell you. He was 'a
moment silent, then continued with an impassive look
of cold self-possession, that affected me with strange
sadness.

" The name of the person you will hear, of course,
at the time, but more I cannot tell you. I need,
however, the presence, not only of legal, but of re-
spectable and friendly witnesses. I have hoped you
and your husband would do me this kindness. Will
you ? "

Something in his manner made it impossible to re-
fuse. I answered before I knew I was going to speak,
" We will," and he left me.

I will not weary you with telling how I harassed
myself and my husband, who was, however, scarce
less interested,- with doubts and conjectures. Suffice
it that, next morning, P. came and took us in a car-
riage to a distant church. We had just entered the
porch when a cart, such as fruit and vegetables are
brought to market in, drove up, containing an elderly

THE LAKES. 25

woman and a young girl. P. assisted them to alight,
and advanced with the girl to the altar.

The girl was neatly dressed and quite handsome,
yet something in her expression displeased me the
moment I looked upon her. Meanwhile the cere-
mony was going on, and, at its close, P. introduced
us to the bride, and we all went to the door.

Good-by, Fanny, said the elderly woman. The
new-made Mrs. P. replied without any token of af-
fection or emotion. The woman got into the cart
and drove away.

From that time I saw but little of P. or his wife.
I took our mutual friends to see her, and they were
civil to her for his sake. Curiosity was very much
excited, but entirely baffled ; no one, of course, dared
speak to P. on the subject, and no other means could
be found of solving the riddle.

lie treated his wife with grave and kind politeness,
but it was always obvious that they had nothing in
common between them. Her manners and tastes
were not at that time gross, but her character showed
itself hard and material. She was fond of riding,
and spent much time so. Her style in this, and in
dress, seemed the opposite of P.'s ; but he indulged
all her wishes, while, for himself, he plunged into his
own pursuits.

For a time he seemed, if not happy, not positively
unhappy ; but, after a few years, Mrs. P. fell into the
habit of drinking, and then such scenes as you wit-
nessed grew frequent. I have often heard of them,
and always that P. sat, as you describe him, his head
bowed down and perfectly silent all through, what-
3

26 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

ever might be done or whoever be present, and al-
ways his aspect has inspired such sympathy that no
person has questioned him or resented her insults,
but merely got out of the way, so soon as possible.

Hard and long penance, said my father, after some
minutes musing, for an hour of passion, probably for
his only error.

Is that your explanation ? said the lady. O, im-
probable. P. might err, but not be led beyond him-
self.

I know his cool gray eye and calm complexion
seemed to say so, but a different story is told by the
lip that could tremble, and showed what flashes might
pierce those deep blue heavens ; and when these over
intellectual beings do swerve aside, it is to fall down
a precipice, for their narrow path lies over sucn.
But he was not one to sin without making a brave
atonement, and that it had become a holy one, was
written on that downcast brow.

The fourth day on these waters, the weather was
milder and brighter, so that we could now see them
to some purpose. At night was clear moon, and,
for the first time, from the upper deck, I saw one of
the great steamboats come majestically up. It was
glowing with lights, looking many-eyed and saga-
cious ; in its heavy motion it seemed a dowager
queen, and this motion, with its solemn pulse, and
determined sweep, becomes these smooth waters,
especially at night, as much as the dip of the sail-
ship the long billows of the ocean.

But it was not so soon that I learned to appreciate
the lake scenery ; it was only after a daily and care-

THE LAKES. 27

less familiarity that I entered into its beauty, for na-
ture always refuses to be seen by being stared at.
Like Bonaparte, she discharges her face of all ex-
pression when she catches the eye of impertinent
curiosity fixed on her. But he who has gone to
sleep in childish ease on her lap, or leaned an aching
brow upon her breast, seeking there comfort with
full trust as from a mother, will see all a mother's
beauty in the look she bends upon him. Later, I
felt that I had really seen these regions, and shall
speak of them again.

In the afternoon we went on shore at the Manitou
islands, where the boat stops to wood. No one
lives here except woodcutters for the steamboats. I
had thought of such a position, from its mixture of
profound solitude with service to the great world,
as possessing an ideal beauty. I think so still, after
seeing the woodcutters and their slovenly huts.

In times of slower growth, man did not enter a
situation without a certain preparation or adapted-
ness to it. He drew from it, if not to the poetical
extent, at least, in some proportion, its moral and its
meaning. The woodcutter did not cut down so
many trees a day, that the hamadryads had not time
to make their plaints heard ; the shepherd tended
his sheep, and did no jobs or chores the while ; the
idyl had a chance to grow up, and modulate his
oaten pipe* But now the poet must be at the whole
expense of the poetry in describing one of these
positions ; the worker is a true Midas to the gold he
makes. The poet must describe, as the painter
sketches Irish peasant girls and Danish fishwives,
adding the beauty, and leaving out the dirt.

28 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

I come to the west prepared for the distaste I must
experience at its mushroom growth. I know that
where " go ahead " is the only motto, the village
cannot grow into the gentle proportions that suc-
cessive lives, and the gradations of experience in-
voluntarily give. In older countries the house of the
son grew from that of the father, as naturally as new
joints on a bough. And the cathedral crowned the
whole as naturally as the leafy summit the tree. This
cannot be here. The march of peaceful is scarce
less wanton than that of warlike invasion. The old
landmarks are broken down, and the land, for a sea-
son, bears none, except of the rudeness of conquest
and the needs of the day, whose bivouac fires blacken
the sweetest forest glades. I have come prepared to
see all this, to dislike it, but not with stupid narrow-
ness to distrust or defame. On the contrary, while
I will not be so obliging as to confound ugliness with
beauty, discord with harmony, and laud and be con-
tented with all I meet, when it conflicts with my
best desires and tastes, I trust by reverent faith to
woo the mighty meaning of the scene, perhaps to
foresee the law by which a new order, a new poetry
is to be evoked from this chaos, and with a curiosity
as ardent, but not so selfish as that of Macbeth, to call
up the apparitions of future kings from the strange
ingredients of the witch's caldron. Thus, I will not
grieve that all the noble trees are gone already from
this island to feed this caldron, but believe it will
have Medea's virtue, and reproduce them in the
form of new intellectual growths, since centuries can-
not again adorn the land with such.

THE LAKES. 29

On this most beautiful beacli of smooth white peb-
bles, interspersed with agates and cornelians, for
those who know how to find them, we stepped, not
like the Indian, with some humble offering, which, if
no better than an arrow-head or a little parched
corn, would, he judged, please the Manitou, who
looks only at the spirit in which it is offered. Our
visit was so far for a religious purpose that one of our
party went to inquire the fate of some Unitarian
tracts left among the woodcutters a year or two be-
fore. But the old Manitou, though, daunted like his
children by the approach of the fire-ships which he
probably considered demons of a new dynasty, he
had suffered his woods to be felled to feed their
pride, had been less patient of an encroachment,
which did not to him seem so authorized by the law
of the strongest, and had scattered those leaves as
carelessly as the others of that year.

But S. and I, like other emigrants, went not to
give, but to get, to rifle the wood of flowers for the
service of the fire-ship. We returned with a rich
booty, among which was the uva ursi. whose leaves
the Indians smoke, with the kinnick-kinnick, and
which had then just put forth its highly-finished little
blossoms, as pretty as those of the blueberry.

Passing along still further, I thought it would be
well if the crowds assembled to stare from the va-
rious landings were still confined to the kinnick-kin-
nick, for almost all had tobacco written on their
faces, their checks rounded with plugs, their eyes
dull with its fumes. We reached Chicago on the
evening of the sixth day, having been out five days
3*

30 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

and a half, a rather longer passage than usual at a
favorable season of the year.

Chicago, June 20.

There can be no two places in the world more
completely thoroughfares than this place and Buffalo.
They are the two correspondent valves that open and
shut all the time, as the life-blood rushes from east
to west, and back again from west to east.

Since it is their office thus to be the doors, and let
in and out, it would be unfair to expect from them
much character of their own. To make the best
provisions for the transmission of produce is their
office, and the people who live there are such as are
suited for this ; active, complaisant, inventive, business
people. There are no provisions for the student or
idler ; to know what the place can give, you should
be at work with the rest, the mere traveller will not
find it profitable to loiter there as I did.

Since circumstances made it necessary for me so
to do, I read all the books I could find about the
new region, which now began to become real to
me. All the books about the Indians, a paltry col-
lection, truly, yet which furnished material for many
thoughts. The most narrow-minded and awkward
recital still bears some lineaments of the great fea-
tures of this nature, and the races of men that
illustrated them.

Catlin's book is far the best. I was afterwards
assured by those acquainted with the regions he
describes, that he is not to be depended on for the
accuracy of his facts, and, indeed, it is obvious, with-

CHICAGO. 31

out the aid of such assertions, that he sometimes
yields to the temptation of making out a story.
They admitted, however, what from my feelings I
was sure of, that he is true to the spirit of the scene,
and that a far better view can be got from him than
from any source at present existing, of the Indian
tribes of the far west, and of the country where their
inheritance lay.

Murray's travels I read, and was charmed by their
accuracy and clear broad tone. He is the only
Englishman that seems to have traversed these re-
gions, as man, simply, not as John Bull. He de-
serves to belong to an aristocracy, for he showed his
title to it more when left without a guide in the
wilderness, than he can at the court of Victoria. He
has, himself, no poetic force at description, but it is
easy to make images from his hints. Yet we believe
the Indian cannot be looked at truly except by a
poetic eye. The Pawnees, no doubt, are such as he
describes them, filthy in their habits, and treacherous
in their character, but some would have seen, and
seen truly, more beauty and dignity than he docs
with all his manliness and fairness of mind. How-
ever, his one fine old man is enough to redeem the
rest, and is perhaps the relic of a better day, a Pho-
cion among the Pawnees.

Schoolcraft's Algic Researches is a valuable book,
though a worse use could hardly have been made of
such fine material. Had the mythological or hunt-
ing stories of the Indians been written down exactly
as they were received from the lips of the narrators,
the collection could not have been surpassed in in-

32 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

terest, both for the wild charm they carry with them,
and the light they throw on a peculiar modification
of life and mind. As it is, though the incidents
have an air of originality and pertinence to the occa-
sion, that gives us confidence that they have not
been altered, the phraseology in which they were
expressed has been entirely set aside, and the flimsy
graces, common to the style of annuals and souve-
nirs, substituted for the Spartan brevity and sinewy
grasp of Indian speech. We can just guess what
might have been there, as we can detect the fine
proportions of the Brave whom the bad taste of some
white patron has arranged in frock-coat, hat, and
pantaloons.

The few stories Mrs. Jameson wrote out, though
to these also a sentimental air has been given, offend
much less in that way than is common in this book.
What would we give for a completely faithful ver-
sion of some among them. Yet with all these draw-
backs we cannot doubt from internal evidence that
they truly ascribe to the Indian a delicacy of senti-
ment and of fancy that justifies Cooper in such in-
ventions as his Uncas. It is a white man's view of
a savage hero, who would be far finer in his natural
proportions ; still, through a masquerade figure, it
implies the truth.

Irving's books I also read, some for the first, some
for the second time, with increased interest, now that
I was to meet such people as he received his mate-
rials from. Though the books are pleasing from
their grace and luminous arrangement, yet, with
the exception of the Tour to the Prairies, they

CHICAGO. 33

have a stereotype, second-hand air. They lack the
breath, the glow, the charming minute traits of living
presence. His scenery is only tit to be glanced at
from dioramic distance ; his Indians are academic
figures only. He would have made the best of pic-
tures, if he could have used his own eyes for studies
and sketches ; as it is, his success is wonderful, but
inadequate.

McKenney's Tour to the Lakes is the dullest of
books, yet faithful and quiet, and gives some facts not
to be met with elsewhere.

I also read a collection of Indian anecdotes and
speeches, the worst compiled and arranged book pos-
sible, yet not without clues of some value. All these
books I read in anticipation of a canoe-voyage on
Lake Superior as far as the Pictured Rocks, and,
though I was afterwards compelled to give up this
project, they aided me in judging of what I after-
wards saw and heard of the Indians.

In Chicago I first saw the beautiful prairie flowers.
They were in their glory the first ten days we were
there —

" The golden and the flame-like flowers."

The flame-like flower I was taught afterwards, by
an Indian girl, to call " Wickapee ;" and she told me,
too, that its splendors had a useful side, for it was
used by the Indians as a remedy for an illness to
which they were subject.

Beside these brilliant flowers, which gemmed and
gilt the grass in a sunny afternoon's drive near the
blue lake, between the low oakwood and the narrow

34 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

beach, stimulated, whether sensuously by the optic
nerve, unused to so much gold and crimson with such
tender green, or symbolically through some meaning
dimly seen in the flowers, I enjoyed a sort of fairy-
land exultation never felt before, and the first drive
amid the flowers gave me anticipation of the beauty
of the prairies.

At first, the prairie seemed to speak of the very
desolation of dullness. After sweeping over the vast
monotony of the lakes to come to this monotony of
land, with all around a limitless horizon, — to walk, and
walk, and run, but never climb, oh ! it was too dreary
for any but a Hollander to bear. How the eye greet-
ed the approach of a sail, or the smoke of a steam-
boat ; it seemed that any thing so animated must
come from a better land, where mountains gave re-
ligion to the scene.

The only thing I liked at first to do, was to trace
with slow and unexpecting step the narrow margin of
the lake. Sometimes a heavy swell gave it expres-
sion ; at others, only its varied coloring, which I found
more admirable every day, and which gave it an air
of mirage instead of the vastness of ocean. Then
there was a grandeur in the feeling that I might con-
tinue that walk, if I had any seven-leagued mode of
conveyance to save fatigue, for hundreds of miles
without an obstacle and without a change.

But after I had rode out, and seen the flowers and
seen the sun set with that calmness seen only in the
prairies, and the cattle winding slowly home to their
homes in the " island groves " — peacefulest of
sights — I began to love because I began to know

CHICAGO. 35

the scene, and shrank no longer from " the encir-
cling vastness."'

It is always thus with the new form of life ; we
must learn to look at it by its own standard. At first,
no doubt my accustomed eye kept saying, if the
mind did not, What ! no distant mountains ? what,
no valleys? But after a while I would ascend the
roof of the house where we lived, and pass many
hours, needing no sight but the moon reigning in the
heavens, or starlight falling upon the lake, till all the
lights were out in the island grove of men beneath
my feet, and felt nearer heaven that there was no-
thing but this lovely, still reception on the earth ; no
towering mountains, no deep tree-shadows, nothing
but plain earth and water bathed in light.

Sunset, as seen from that place, presented most
generally, low-lying, flaky clouds, of the softest se-
renity, "like," said S., " the Buddhist tracts."

One night a star shot madly from its sphere, and
it had a fair chance to be seen, but that serenity could
not be astonished.

Yes ! it was a peculiar beauty of those sunsets and
moonlights on the levels of Chicago which Chamou-
ny or the Trosachs could not make me forget.

Notwithstanding all the attractions I thus found
out by degrees on the flat shores of the lake, I was
delighted when I found myself really on my way into
the country for an excursion of two or three weeks.
We set forth in a strong wagon, almost as Iarsre, and
with the look of those used elsewhere for transport-
ing caravans of wild beastcscs, loaded with every
thing we might want, in case nobody would give it

36 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

to us — for buying and selling were no longer to be
counted on — with a pair of strong horses, able and
willing to force their way through mud holes and
amid stumps, and a guide, equally admirable as mar-
shal and companion, who knew by heart the country
and its history, both natural and artificial, and whose
clear hunter's eye needed neither road nor goal to
guide it to all the spots where beauty best loves to
dwell.

Add to this the finest weather, and such country
as I had never seen, even in my dreams, although
these dreams had been haunted by wishes for just
such an one, and you may judge whether years of
dullness might not, by these bright days, be redeemed,
and a sweetness be shed over all thoughts of the
West.

The first day brought us through woods rich in the
moccasin flower and lupine, and plains whose soft
expanse was continually touched with expression by
the slow moving clouds which

" Sweep over with their shadows, and beneath
The surface rolls and fluctuates to the eye ;
Dark hollows seem to glide along and chase
The sunny ridges,"

to the banks of the Fox river, a sweet and graceful
stream. We reached Geneva just in time to escape
being drenched by a violent thunder shower, whose
rise and disappearance threw expression into all the
features of the scene.

Geneva reminds me of a New England village, as
indeed there, and in the neighborhood, are many New

GENEVA. 37

Englanders of an excellent stamp, generous, intelli-
gent, discreet, and seeking to win from life its true
values. Such are much wanted, and seem like points
of light among the swarms of settlers, whose aims are
sordid, whose habits thoughtless and slovenly.

With great pleasure we heard, with his attentive
and affectionate congregation, the Unitarian clergy-
man, Mr. Conant, and afterward visited him in his
house, where almost everything bore traces of his
own handy work or that of his father. He is just
such a teacher as is wanted in this region, familiar
enough with the habits of those he addresses to come
home to their experience and their wants ; earnest
and enlightened enough to draw the important infer-
ences from the life of every day.

A day or two we remained here, and passed some
happy hours in the woods that fringe the stream,
where the gentlemen found a rich booty of fish.

Next day, travelling along the river's banks, was
an uninterrupted pleasure. We closed our drive in
the afternoon at the house of an English gentleman,
who has gratified, as few men do, the common wish
to pass the evening of an active day amid the quiet
influences of country life. He showed us a book-
case filled with books about this country ; these he
had collected for years, and become so familiar with
the localities that, on coming here at last, he sought
and found, at once, the very spot he wanted, and
where he is as content as he hoped to be, thus real-
izing Wordsworth's description of the wise man, who
" sees what he foresaw."

A wood surrounds the house, through which paths

38 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

are cut in every direction. It is, for this new coun-
try, a large and handsome dwelling ; but round it are
its barns and farm yard, with cattle and poultry.
These, however, in the framework of wood, have a
very picturesque and pleasing effect. There is that
mixture of culture and rudeness in the aspect of
things as gives a feeling of freedom, not of confusion.
I wish it were possible to give some idea of this
scene as viewed by the earliest freshness of dewy
dawn. This habitation of man seemed like a nest in
the grass, so thoroughly were the buildings and all the
objects of human care harmonized with what was
natural. The tall trees bent and whispered all around,
as if to hail with sheltering love the men who had
come to dwell among them.

The young ladies were musicians, and spoke French
fluently, having been educated in a convent. Here
in the prairie, they had learned to take care of the
milk-room, and kill the rattlesnakes that assailed
their poultry yard. Beneath the shade of heavy cur-
tains you looked out from the high and large win-
dows to see Norwegian peasants at work in their
national dress. In the wood grew, not only the
flowers I had before seen, and wealth of tall, wild
roses, but the splendid blue spiderwort, that or-
nament of our gardens. Beautiful children strayed
there, who were soon to leave these civilized regions
for some really wild and western place, a post
in the buffalo country. Their no less beautiful
mother was of Welsh descent, and the eldest child
bore the name of Gwynthleon. Perhaps there she
will meet with some young descendants of Madoc, to

A THUNDER STORM. 39

be her friends ; at any rate, her looks may retain that
sweet, wild beauty, that is soon made to vanish from
eyes which look too much on shops and streets, and
the vulgarities of city " parties."

Next day we crossed the river. We ladies crossed
on a little foot-bridge, from which we could look down
the stream, and see the wagon pass over at the ford.
A black thunder cloud was coming up. The sky
and waters heavy with expectation. The motion of
the wagon, with its white cover, and the laboring
horses, gave just the due interest to the picture, be-
cause it seemed as if they would not have time to
cross before the storm came on. However, they did
get across, and we were a mile or two on our way
before the violent shower obliged us to take refuge
in a solitary house upon the prairie. In this coun-
try it is as pleasant to stop as to go on, to lose
your way as to find it, for the variety in the popula-
tion gives you a chance for fresh entertainment in
every hut, and the luxuriant beauty makes every
path attractive. In this house we found a family
" quite above the common," but, I grieve to say, not
above false pride, for the father, ashamed of being
caught barefoot, told us a story of a man, one of the
richest men, he said, in one of the eastern cities, who
went barefoot, from choice and taste.

Near the door grew a Provence rose, then in blos-
som. Other families we saw had brought with them
and planted the locust. It was pleasant to see their
old home loves, brought into connection with their
new splendors. Wherever there were traces of this
tenderness of feeling, only too rare among Americans,

40 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

other things bore signs also of prosperity and intelli-
gence, as if the ordering mind of man had some idea
of home beyond a mere shelter, beneath which to eat
and sleep.

No heaven need wear a lovelier aspect than earth
did this afternoon, after the clearing up of the
shower. We traversed the blooming plain, un-
marked by any road, only the friendly track of
wheels which tracked, not broke the grass. Our
stations were not from town to town, but from
grove to grove. These groves first floated like blue
islands in the distance. As we drew nearer, they
seemed fair parks, and the little log houses on the
edge, with their curling smokes, harmonized beauti-
fully with them. •

One of these groves, Ross's grove, we reached just
at sunset. It was of the noblest trees I saw during
this journey, for the trees generally were not large
or lofty, but only of fair proportions. Here they
were large enough to form with their clear stems pil-
lars for grand cathedral aisles. There was space
enough for crimson light to stream through upon the
floor of water which the shower had left. As we
slowly plashed through, I thought I was never in a
better place for vespers.

That night we rested, or rather tarried at a grove
some miles beyond, and there partook of the miseries
so often jocosely portrayed, of bedchambers for
twelve, a milk dish for universal handbasin, and ex-
pectations that you would use and lend your " han-
kercher " for a towel. But this was the only night,
thanks to the hospitality of private families, that we

PAP AW GROVE. 41

passed thus, and it was well that we had this bit of
experience, else might we have pronounced all Trol-
lopian records of the kind to be inventions of pure
malice.

With us was a young lady who showed herself to
have been bathed in the Britannic fluid, wittily de-
scribed by a late French writer, by the impossibility
she experienced of accommodating herself to the in-
decorums of the scene. We ladies were to sleep in
the bar-room, from which its drinking visiters could
be ejected only at a late hour. The outer door had
no fastening to prevent their return. However, our
host kindly requested we would call him, if they did,
as he had " conquered them for us," and would do
so again. We had also rather hard couches ; (mine
was the supper table.) but we yankees, born to rove,
were altogether too much fatigued to stand upon
trifles, and slept as sweetly as we would in the
" bigly bower " of any baroness. But I think England
sat up all night, wrapped in her blanket shawl, and
with a neat lace cap upon her head ; so that she
would have looked perfectly the lady, if any one had
come in ; shuddering and listening. I know that she
was very ill next day, in requital. She watched, as
her parent country watches the seas, that nobody
may do wrong in any case, and deserved to have met
some interruption, she was so well prepared. How-
ever, there was none, other than from the nearness
of some twenty sets of powerful lungs, which would
not leave the night to a deadly stillness. In this
house we had, if not good beds, yet good tea, good

bread, and wild strawberries, and were entertained

4*

42 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

with most free communications of opinion and his-
tory from our hosts. Neither shall any of us have a
right to say again that we cannot find any who may
be willing to hear all we may have to say. " A's
fish that comes to the net," should be painted on the
sign at Papaw grove.

CHAPTER III.

In the afternoon of this day we reached the Rock
river, in whose neighborhood we proposed to make
some stay, and crossed at Dixon's ferry.

This beautiful stream flows full and wide over a
bed of rocks, traversing a distance of near two hun-
dred miles, to reach the Mississippi. Great part of
the country along its banks is the finest region of
Illinois, and the scene of some of the latest romance
of Indian warfare. To these beautiful regions Black
Hawk returned with his band " to pass the summer,"
when he drew upon himself the warfare in which he
was finally vanquished. No wonder he could not
resist the longing, unwise though its indulgence
might be, to return in summer to this home of
beauty.

Of Illinois, in general, it has often been remarked
that it bears the character of country which has
been inhabited by a nation skilled like the English in
all the ornamental arts of life, especially in landscape
gardening. That the villas and castles seem to have
been burnt, the enclosures taken down, but the vel-

44 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

vet lawns, the flower gardens, the stately parks, scat-
tered at graceful intervals by the decorous hand of
art, the frequent deer, and the peaceful herd of cat-
tle that make picture of the plain, all suggest more
of the masterly mind of man, than the prodigal, but
careless, motherly love of nature. Especially is this
true of the Rock river country. The river flows
sometimes through these parks and lawns, then be-
twixt high bluffs, whose grassy ridges are covered
with fine trees, or broken with crumbling stone,
that easily assumes the forms of buttress, arch and
clustered columns. Along the face of such crumbling
rocks, swallows' nests are clustered, thick as cities,
and eagles and deer do not disdain their summits.
One morning, out in the boat along the base of
these rocks, it was amusing, and affecting too, to see
these swallows put their heads out to look at us.
There was something very hospitable about it, as if
man had never shown himself a tyrant near them.
What a morning that was ! Every sight is worth
twice as much by the early morning light. We
borrow something of the spirit of the hour to look
upon them.

The first place where we stopped was one of sin-
gular beauty, a beauty of soft, luxuriant wildness.
It was on the bend of the river, a place chosen by an
Irish gentleman, whose absenteeship seems of the
wisest kind, since for a sum which would have been
but a drop of water to the thirsty fever of his native
land, he commands a residence which has all that is
desirable, in its independence, its beautiful retire-
ment, and means of benefit to others.

ROCK RIVER. . 45

His park, his deer-chase, he found already pre-
pared ; he had only to make an avenue through it.
This brought us by a drive, which in the heat of noon
seemed long, though afterwards, in the cool of morn-
ing and evening, delightful, to the house. This is,
for that part of the world, a large and commodious
dwelling. Near it stands the log-cabin where its
master lived while it was building, a very ornamental
accessory.

In front of the house was a lawn, adorned by the
most graceful trees. A few of these had been taken
out to give a full view of the river, gliding through
banks such as I have described. On this bend the
bank is high and bold, so from the house or the
lawn the view was very rich and commanding.
But if you descended a ravine at the side to the
water's edge, you found there a long walk on the
narrow shore, with a wall above of the richest hang-
ing wood, in which they said the deer lay hid. I
never saw one, but often fancied that I heard them
rustling, at daybreak, by these, bright clear waters,
stretching out in such smiling promise, where no
sound broke the deep and blissful seclusion, unless
now and then this rustling, or the plash of some fish
a little gayer than the others ; it seemed not neces-
sary to have any better heaven, or fuller expression
of love and freedom than in the mood of nature here.

Then, leaving the bank, you would walk far and
far through long grassy paths, full of the most bril-
liant, also the most delicate flowers. The brilliant
are more common on the prairie, but both kinds
loved this place.

46 . SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

Amid the grass of the lawn, with a profusion of
wild strawberries, we greeted also a familiar love, the
Scottish harebell, the gentlest, and most touching
form of the flower-world.

The master of the house was absent, but with a
kindness beyond thanks had offered us a resting
place there. Here we were taken care of by a
deputy, who would, for his youth, have been as-
signed the place of a page in former times, but in the
young west, it seems he was old enough for a stew-
ard. Whatever be called his function, he did the
honors of the place so much in harmony with it, as
to leave the guests free to imagine themselves in
Elysium. And the three days passed here were days
of unalloyed, spotless happiness.

There was a peculiar charm in coming here, where
the choice of location, and the unobtrusive good taste
of all the arrangements, showed such intelligent ap-
preciation of the spirit of the scene, after seeing so
many dwellings of the new settlers, which showed
plainly that they had no thought beyond satisfying
the grossest material wants. Sometimes they looked
attractive, the little brown houses, the natural arch-
itecture of the country, in the edge of the timber.
But almost always when you came near, the sloven-
liness of the dwelling and the rude way in which
objects around it were treated, when so little care
would have presented a charming whole, were very
repulsive. Seeing the traces of the Indians, who
chose the most beautiful sites for their dwellings, and
whose habits do not break in on that aspect of na-
ture under which they were born, we feel as if they

ROCK RIVER. 47

were the rightful lords of a beauty they forbore to
deform. But most of these settlers do not see it at
all ; it breathes, it speaks in vain to those who are
rushing into its sphere. Their progress is Gothic,
not Roman, and their mode of cultivation will, in
the course of twenty, perhaps ten, years, obliterate
the natural expression of the country.

This is inevitable, fatal ; we must not complain, but
look forward to a good result. Still, in travelling
through this country, I could not but be struck with
the force of a symbol. Wherever the hog comes,
the rattlesnake disappears ; the omnivorous traveller,
safe in its stupidity, willingly and easily makes a
meal of the most dangerous of reptiles, and one
whom the Indian looks on with a mystic awe. Even
so the white settler pursues the Indian, and is victor
in the chase. But I shall say more upon the subject
. by-and-by.

While we were here we had one grand thunder
storm, which added new glory to the scene.

One beautiful feature was the return of the pigeons
every afternoon to their home. Kverv afternoon
they came sweeping across the lawn, positively in
clouds, and with a swiftness and softness of winged
motion, more beautiful than anything of the kind
I ever knew. Had I been a musician, sueh as
Mendelsohn, I felt that I could have improvised a
music quite peculiar, from the sound they made,
which should have indicated all the beauty over
which their wings bore them. I will here insert a
few lines left at this house, on parting, which feebly
indicate some of the features.

48 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

Familiar to the childish mind were tales

Of rock-girt isles amid a desert sea,
Where unexpected stretch the flowery vales

To soothe the shipwrecked sailor's misery.
Fainting, he lay upon a sandy shore,
And fancied that all hope of life was o'er ;
But let him patient climb the frowning wall,
Within, the orange glows beneath the palm tree tall,
And all that Eden boasted waits his call.

Almost these tales seem realized to-day,
When the long dullness of the sultry way,
Where " independent" settlers' careless cheer
Made us indeed feel we were " strangers" here,
Is cheered by sudden sight of this fair spot,
On which " improvement" yet has made no blot,
But Nature all-astonished stands, to find
Her plan protected by the human mind.

Blest be the kindly genius of the scene ;

The river, bending in unbroken grace,
The stately thickets, with their pathways green,

Fair lonely trees, each in its fittest place.
Those thickets haunted by the deer and fawn ;
Those cloudlike flights of birds across the lawn;
The gentlest breezes here delight to blow,
And sun and shower and star are emulous to deck the
show.

Wondering, as Crusoe, we survey the land ;
Happier than Crusoe we, a friendly band ;
Blest be the hand that reared this friendly home,
The heart and mind of him to whom we owe
Hours of pure peace such as few mortals know ;
May he find such, should he be led to roam ;

OREGON. 49

Be tended by such ministering sprites —

Enjoy such gaily childish days, Buch hopeful nights!

And yet, amid the goods to mortals ^iven,
To five those goods again is most Like heaven.

■uahraod, Rock River, June 3Ctli, IS43.

The only really rustic feature was of the many
coops of poultry near the house, which I understood
it to be one of the chief pleasures of the master to
feed.

Leaving this place, we proceeded a day's journey
alone; the beautiful stream, to a little town named
Oregon. We called at a cabin, from whose door
looked out one of those faces which, once seen, are
never forgotten; young, yet touched with many
traces of feeling, not only possible, but endured ;
spirited, too, like the gleam of a finely tempered
blade. It was a lace that suggested a history, and
many histories, but whose scene would have been in
courts and camps. At this moment their circles are
dull for want of that life which is waning unexcited
in this solitary recess.

The master of the house proposed to show us a
" short cut," by which we might, to especial advan-
tage, pursue our journey. This proved to be almost
perpendicular down a hill, studded with young treea
and stumps. From these he proposed, with a hospi-
tality of service worthy an Oriental, to free our wheels
whenever they should get entangled, also, to be
himself the drag, to prevent our too rapid descent.
Such generosity deserved trust ; however, we women
could not be persuaded to render it. We got out
5

50 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

and admired, from afar, the process. Left by our
guide — and prop ! we found ourselves in a wide
field, where, by playful quips and turns, an end-
less "creek," seemed to divert itself with our at-
tempts to cross it. Failing in this, the next best was
to whirl down a steep bank, which feat our charioteer
performed with an air not unlike that of Rhesus, had
he but been as suitably furnished with chariot and
steeds !

At last, after wasting some two or three hours on
the " short cut," we got out by following an Indian
trail, — Black Hawk's ! How fair the scene through
which it led ! How could they let themselves be
conquered, with such a country to fight for 1

Afterwards, in the wide prairie, we saw a lively
picture of nonchalance, (to speak in the fashion of
dear Ireland.) There, in the wide sunny field, with
neither tree nor umbrella above his head, sat a ped-
ler, with his pack, waiting apparently for customers.
He was not disappointed. We bought, what hold in
regard to the human world, as unmarked, as mysteri-
ous, and as important an existence, as the infusoria
to the natural, to wit, pins. This incident would
have delighted those modern sages, who, in imitation
of the sitting philosophers of ancient Ind, prefer
silence to speech, waiting to going, and scornfully
smile in answer to the motions of earnest life,

" Of itself will nothing come,
That ye must still be seeking? "

However, it seemed to me to-day, as formerly on
these sublime occasions, obvious that nothing would

OREGON. 51

come, unless something would go ; now, if we had
been as sublimely still as the pedler, his pins would
have tarried in the pack, and his pockets sustained
an aching void of pence !

Passing through one of the fine, park-like woods,
almost clear from underbrush and carpeted with
thick grasses and flowers, we met, (for it was Sun-
day,) a little congregation just returning from their
service, which had been performed in a rude house
in its midst. It had a sweet and peaceful air, as if
such words and thoughts were very dear to them.
The parents had with them all their little children ;
but we saw no old people ; that charm was wanting,
which exists in such scenes in older settlements, of
seeing the silver bent in reverence beside the flaxen
head.

At Oregon, the beauty of the scene was of even
a more sumptuous character than at our former
" stopping place." Here swelled the river in its
boldest course, interspersed by halcyon isles on which
nature had lavished all her prodigality in tree, vine,
and flower, banked by noble bluffs, three hundred
feet high, their sharp ridges as exquisitely definite as
the edge of a shell ; their summits adorned with
those same beautiful trees, and with buttresses of rich
rock, crested with old hemlocks, which wore a touch-
ing and antique grace amid the softer and more lux-
uriant vegetation. Lofty natural mounds rose amidst
the rest, with the same lovely and sweeping outline,
showing everywhere the plastic power of water, —
water, mother of beauty, which, by its sweet and
eager flow, had left such lineaments as human genius
never dreamt of.

52 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

Not far from the river was a high crag, called the
Pine Rock, which looks out, as our guide observed,
like a helmet above the brow of the country. It
seems as if the water left here and there a vestige of
forms and materials that preceded its course, just to
set off its new and richer designs.

The aspect of this country was to me enchanting,
beyond any I have ever seen, from its fullness of ex-
pression, its bold and impassioned sweetness. Here
the flood of emotion has passed over and marked
everywhere its course by a smile. The fragments of
rock touch it with a wildness and liberality which
give just the needed relief. I should never be tired
here, though I have elsewhere seen country of more
secret and alluring charms, better calculated to stim-
ulate and suggest. Here the eye and heart are filled.

How happy the Indians must have been here ! It
is not long since they were driven away, and the
ground, above and below, is full of their traces.

" The earth is full of men. "

You have only to turn up the sod to find arrow-
heads and Indian pottery. On an island, belonging
to our host, and nearly opposite his house, they loved
to stay, and, no doubt, enjoyed its lavish beauty as
much as the myriad wild pigeons that now haunt its
flower-filled shades. Here are still the marks of their
tomahawks, the troughs in which they prepared their
corn, their caches.

A little way down the river is the site of an ancient
Indian village, with its regularly arranged mounds.
As usual, they had chosen with the finest taste. It

ANCIENT INDIAN VILLAGE. 53

was one of those soft shadowy afternoons when we
went there, when nature seems ready to weep, not
from grief, but from an overfull heart. Two prat-
tli-nir, lovely little girls, and an African boy, with glit-
tering eye and ready grin, made our party gay ; but
all were still as we entered their little inlet and trod
those flowery paths. They may blacken Indian life
as they will, talk of its dirt, its brutality, I will ever
believe that the men who chose that dwelling-place
were able to feel emotions of noble happiness as they
returned to it, and so were the women that received
them. Neither were the children sad or dull, who
lived so familiarly with the deer and the birds, and
swam that clear wave in the shadow of the Seven
Sisters. The whole scene suggested to me a Greek
splendor, a Greek sweetness, and I can believe that
an Indian brave, accustomed to ramble in such paths,
and be bathed by such sunbeams, might be mistaken
for Apollo, as Apollo was for him by West. Two of
the boldest bluffs are called the Deer's Walk, (not be-
cause deer do not walk there,) and the Eagle's Nest
The latter I visited one glorious morning ; it was
that of the fourth of July, and certainly I think I had
never felt so happy that I was born in America. Wo
to all country folks that never saw this spot, nev. r
swept an enraptured gaze over the prospect that
stretched beneath. I do believe Rome and Florence
are suburbs compared to this capital of nature's art.

The bluff* was decked with great bunches of a
scarlet variety of the milkweed, like cut coral, and
all starred with a mysterious-looking dark flower,
whose cup rose lonely on a tall stem. This had, for

5*

54 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

two or three days, disputed the ground with the lu-
pine and phlox. My companions disliked, I liked it.
Here I thought of, or rather saw, what the Greek
expresses under the form of Jove's darling, Gany-
mede, and the following stanzas took form.

GANYMEDE TO HIS EAGLE,

SUGGESTED BY A WORK OF THORWALDSEN's.

Composed on the height called the Eagle's Nest, Oregon, Rock River,

July 4th, 1843.

Upon the rocky mountain stood the boy,

A goblet of pure water in his hand,
His face and form spoke him one made for joy,

A willing servant to sweet love's command,
But a strange pain was written on his brow,
And thrilled throughout his silver accents now —

" My bird," he cries, " my destined brother friend,

O whither fleets to-day thy wayward flight?
Hast thou forgotten that I here attend,

From the full noon until this sad twilight?
A hundred times, at least, from the clear spring,

Since the full noon o'er hill and valley glowed,
I 've filled the vase which our Olympian king

Upon my care for thy sole use bestowed ;
That at the moment when thou should' st descend,
A pure refreshment might thy thirst attend.

Hast thou forgotten earth, forgotten me,

Thy fellow bondsman in a royal cause,
Who, from the sadness of infinity,

Only with thee can know that peaceful pause
In which we catch the flowing strain of love,
Which binds our dim fates to the throne of Jove ?

GANYMEDE. .").")

Before I saw thee, I was like the May,

Loncrinor for summer that must mar its bloom,
Or like the morning star that calls the day.

Whose glories to its promise are the tomb;
And as the eager fountain rises higher

To throw itself more strongly back to earth,
Still, as more sweet and full rose my desire,

More fondly it reverted to its birth,
For, what the rosebud seeks tells not the rose,
The meaning foretold by the boy the man cannot disclose.

I was all Spring, for in my being dwelt
Eternal youth, where flowers are the fruit,

Full feeling was the thought of what was felt,
Its music was the meaning of the lute ;

But heaven and earth such life will still deny,

For earth, divorced from heaven, still asks the question
Wkyf

Upon the highest mountains my young feet

Ached, that no pinions from their lightness grew,
My starlike eyes the stars would fondly greet,

Yet win no greeting from the circling blue;
Fair, self-subsistent each in its own sphere,

They had no care that there was none for me;
Alike to them that I was far or near,

Alike to them, time and eternity.

But, from the violet of lower air,

Sometimes an answer to my wishing came,
Those lightning births mv nature seemed to share,

They told the secrets of its fiery frame,
The sudden messengers of hate and love,
The thunderbolts that arm the hand of Jove,
And strike sometimes the sacred spire, and strike the
sacred grove.

56 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

Come in a moment, in a moment gone,
They answered me, then left me still more lone,. .
They told me that the thought which ruled the world,
As yet no sa \upon its course had furled,
That the creacio'n was but just begun,
New leaves still leaving from the primal one,
But spoke not of the goal to which my rapid wheels
would run.

Still, still my eyes, though tearfully, I strained
To the far future which my heart contained,
And no dull doubt my proper hope profaned.

At last, O bliss, thy living form I spied,

Then a mere speck upon a distant sky,
Yet my keen glance discerned its noble pride,

And the full answer, of that sun-filled eye;
I knew it was the wing that must upbear
My earthlier form into the realms of air.

Thou knowest how we gained that beauteous height,

Where dwells the monarch of the sons of light,

Thou knowest he declared us two to be

The chosen servants of his ministry,

Thou as his messenger, a sacred sign

Of conquest, or with omen more benign,

To give its due weight to the righteous cause,

To express the verdict of Olympian laws.

And I to wait upon the lonely spring,

Which slakes the thirst of bards to whom 'tis given
The destined dues of hopes divine to sing,

And weave the needed chain to bind to heaven.
Only from such could be obtained a draught
For him who in his early home from Jove's own cup has
quaffed.

GANYMEDE. 57

To wait, to wait, but not to wait too long,

Till heavy grows the burthen of a song;

O bird ! too long hast thou been gone to-day,

My feet are weary of their frequent way,

The spell that opes the spring my tongue no more can say.

If soon thou com'st not, night will fall around,
My head with a sad slumber will be bound,
And the pure draught be spilt upon the ground.

Remember that I am not yet divine,
Long years of service to the fatal Nine
Are yet to make a Delphian vigor mine.

O, make them not too hard, thou bird of Jove,
Answer the stripling's hope, confirm his love,
Receive the service in which he delights,
And bear him often to the serene heights,
Where hands that were so prompt in serving thee,
Shall be allowed the highest mini-try,
And Rapture live with bright Fidelity.

The afternoon was spent in a very different man-
ner. The family, whose guests we were, possessed
a gay and graceful hospitality that gave zest to each
moment. They possessed that rare politeness which,
while fertile in pleasant expedients to vary the enjoy-
ment of a friend, leaves him perfectly free the mo-
ment he wishes to be so. With such hosts, pleas-
ure may be combined with repose. They lived on
the bank opposite the town, and, as their house was
full, we slept in the town, and passed three days
with them, passing to and fro morning and evening
in their boats. (To one of these, called the Fairy,
in which a sweet little daughter of the house moved

58 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

about lighter than any Scotch Ellen ever sung, I should
indite a poem, if I had not been guilty of rhyme on
the very last page.) At morning this was very pleas-
ant ; at evening, I confess I was generally too tired
with the excitements of the day to think it so.

Their house — a double log cabin — was, to my
eye, the model of a Western villa. Nature had laid
out before it grounds which could not be improved.
Within, female taste had veiled every rudeness —
availed itself of every sylvan grace.

In this charming abode what laughter, what sweet
thoughts, what pleasing fancies, did we not enjoy !
May such never desert those who reared it and made
us so kindly welcome to all its pleasures !

Fragments of city life were dexterously crumbled
into the dish prepared for general entertainment.
Ice creams followed the dinner drawn by the gentle-
men from the river, and music and fireworks wound
up the evening of days spent on the Eagle's Nest.
Now they had prepared a little fleet to pass over
to the Fourth of July celebration, which some queer
drumming and fifing, from the opposite bank, had an-
nounced to be " on hand."

We found the free and independent citizens there
collected beneath the trees, among whom many a
round Irish visage dimpled at the usual puffs of
Ameriky.

The orator was a New Englander, and the speech
smacked loudly of Boston, but was received with
much applause, and followed by a plentiful dinner,
provided by and for the Sovereign People, to which
Hail Columbia served as grace.

OREGON. 59

Returning, the gay flotilla hailed the little flag
which the children had raised from a log-cabin, pret-
tier than any president ever saw, and drank the
health of their country and all mankind, with a clear
conscience.

Dance and song wound up the day. I know not
when the mere local habitation has seemed to me to
afford so fair a chance of happiness as this. To a
person of unspoiled tastes, the beauty alone would
afford stimulus enough. But with it would be nat-
urally associated all kinds of wild sports, experiments,
and the studies of natural history. In these regards,
the poet, the sportsman, the naturalist, would alike
rejoice in this wide range of untouched loveliness.

Then, with a very little money, a ducal estate may
be purchased, and by a very little more, and moder-
ate labor, a family be maintained upon it with rai-
ment, food and shelter. The luxurious and minute
comforts of a city life are not yet to be had without
effort disproportionate to their value. But, where
there is so great a counterpoise, cannot these be given
up once for all ? If the houses are imperfectly built,
they can afford immense fires and plenty of cover-
ing ; if they are small, who cares ? — with such
fields to roam in. In winter, it may be borne ; in
summer, is of no consequence. With plenty of fish,
and game, and wheat, can they not dispense with
a baker to bring " muffins hot " every morning to the
door for their breakfast?

Here a man need not take a small slice from the
landscape, and fence it in from the obtrusions of an
uncongenial neighbor, and there cut down his fancies

60 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

to miniature improvements which a chicken could
run over in ten minutes. He may have water and
wood and land enough, to dread no incursions on his
prospect from some chance Vandal that may enter
his neighborhood. He need not painfully economise
and manage how he may use it all ; he can afford to
leave some of it wild, and to carry out his own plans
without obliterating those of nature.

Here, whole families might live together, if they
would. The sons might return from their pilgrim-
ages to settle near the parent hearth ; the daughters
might find room near their mother. Those painful
separations, which already desecrate and desolate the
Atlantic coast, are not enforced here by the stern
need of seeking bread ; and where they are volun-
tary, it is no matter. To me, too, used to the feel-
ings which haunt a society of struggling men, it was
delightful to look upon a scene where nature still
wore her motherly smile and seemed to promise room
not only for those favored or cursed with the qualities
best adapting for the strifes of competition, but for
the delicate, the thoughtful, even the indolent or ec-
centric. She did not say, Fight or starve ; nor even,
Work or cease to exist ; but, merely showing that the
apple was a finer fruit than the wild crab, gave both
room to grow in the garden.

A pleasant society is formed of the families who
live along the banks of this stream upon farms.
They are from various parts of the world, and have
much to communicate to one another. Many have
cultivated minds and refined manners, all a varied
experience, while they have in common the interests

WOMEN IN THE WEST. 61

of a new country and a new life. They must trav-
erse some space to get at one another, but the journey
is through scenes that make it a separate pleasure.
They must bear inconveniences to stay in one an-
other's houses ; but these, to the well-disposed, are
only a source of amusement and adventure.

The great drawback upon the lives of these set-
tlers, at present, is the unfitness of the women for
their new lot. It has generally been the choice of
the men, and the women follow, as women will, doing
their best for affection's sake, but too often in heart-
sickness and weariness. Beside it frequently not be-
ing a choice or conviction of their own minds that
it is best to be here, their part is the hardest, and
they are least fitted for it. The men can find assist-
ance in field labor, and recreation with the gun and
fishing-rod. Their bodily strength is greater, and
enables them to bear and enjoy both these forms of
life.

The women can rarely find any aid in domestic
labor. All its various and careful tasks must often
be performed, sick or well, by the mother and daugh-
ters, to whom a city education has imparted neither
the strength nor skill now demanded.

The wives of the poorer settlers, having more hard
work to do than before, very frequently become slat-
terns ; but the ladies, accustomed to a refined neat-
ness, feel that they cannot degrade themselves by its
absence, and struggle under every disadvantage to
keep up the necessary routine of small arrangements.

With all these disadvantages for work, their re-
sources for pleasure arc fewer. When they can leave
6

62 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

the housework, they have not learnt to ride, to drive,
to row, alone. Their culture has too generally been
that given to women to make them " the ornaments of
society." They can dance, but not draw ; talk French,
but know nothing of the language of flowers ; neither
in childhood were allowed to cultivate them, lest they
should tan their complexions. Accustomed to the
pavement of Broadway, they dare not tread the wild-
wood paths for fear of rattlesnakes !

Seeing much of this joylessness, and inaptitude,
both of body and mind, for a lot which would be full
of blessings for those prepared for it, we could not
but look with deep interest on the little girls, and
hope they would grow up with the strength of body,
dexterity, simple tastes, and resources that would fit
them to enjoy and refine the western farmer's life.

But they have a great deal to war with in the
habits of thought acquired by their mothers from
their own early life. Everywhere the fatal spirit of
imitation, of reference to European standards, pene-
trates, and threatens to blight whatever of original
growth might adorn the soil.

If the little girls grow up strong, resolute, able to
exert their faculties, their mothers mourn over their
want of fashionable delicacy. Are they gay, enter-
prising, ready to fly about in the various ways that
teach them so much, these ladies lament that " they
cannot go to school, where they might learn to be
quiet." They lament the want of " education ' for
their daughters, as if the thousand needs which call
out their young energies, and the language of nature
around, yielded no education.

EDUCATION. 63

Their grand ambition for their children, is to send
them to school in some eastern city, the measure
most likely to make them useless and unhappy at
home. I earnestly hope that, ere long, the existence
of good schools near themselves, planned by persona
of sufficient thought to meet the wants of the place
and time, instead of copying New York or Boston,
will correct this mania. Instruction the children
want to enable them to profit by the great natural
advantages of their position ; but methods copied from
the education of some English Lady Augusta, are as
ill suited to the daughter of an Illinois farmer, as
satin shoes to climb the Indian mounds. An ele-
gance she would diffuse around her, if her mind
were opened to appreciate elegance ; it might be of
a kind new, original, enchanting, as different from
that of the city belle as that of the prairie torch-
fiovver from the shopworn article that touches the
cheek of that lady within her bonnet.

To a girl really skilled to make home beautiful and
comfortable, with bodily strength to enjoy plenty of
exercise, the woods, the streams, a few studies, mu-
sic, and the sincere and familiar intercourse, far more
easily to be met here than elsewhere, would afford
happiness enough. Her eyes would not grow dim,
nor her cheeks sunken, in the absence of parties,
morning visits, and milliner's shops.

As to music, I wish I could see in such places the
guitar rather than the piano, and good vocal more
than instrumental music.

The piano many carry with them, because it is the
fashionable instrument in the eastern cities. Even

64 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

there, it is so merely from the habit of imitating Eu-
rope, for not one in a thousand, is willing to give the
labor requisite to ensure any valuable use of the
instrument.

But, out here, where the ladies have so much less
leisure, it is still less desirable. Add to this, they
never know how to tune their own instruments, and
as persons seldom visit them who can do so, these
pianos are constantly out of tune, and would spoil
the ear of one who began by having any.

The guitar, or some portable instrument which
requires less practice, and could be kept in tune by
themselves, would be far more desirable for most of
these ladies. It would give all they want as a house-
hold companion to fill up the gaps of life with a
pleasant stimulus or solace, and be sufficient accom-
paniment to the voice in social meetings.

Singing in parts is the most delightful family
amusement, and those who are constantly together
can learn to sing in perfect accord. All the practice
it needs, after some good elementary instruction, is
such as meetings by summer twilight, and evening
firelight naturally suggest. And, as music is an
universal language, we cannot but think a fine Italian
duet would be as much at home in the log cabin as
one of Mrs. Gore's novels.

The sixth July we left this beautiful place. It
was one of those rich days of bright sunlight, varied
by the purple shadows of large sweeping clouds*
Many a backward look we cast, and left the heart
behind.

Our journey to-day was no less delightful than

KISHWAUKIE. 65

before, still all new, boundless, limitless. Kinmont
says, that limits are sacred ; that the Greeks were
in the right to worship a god of limits. I say, that
what is limitless is alone divine, that there was nei-
ther wall nor road in Eden, that those who walked
there lost and found their way just as we did, and
that all the gain from the Fall was that we had
a wagon to ride in. I do not think, either, that
even the horses doubted whether this last was any
advantage.

Everywhere the rattlesnake-weed grows in profu-
sion. The antidote survives the bane. Soon the
coarser plantain, the " white man's footstep," shall
take its place.

We saw also the compass plant, and the western
tea plant. Of some of the brightest flowers an
Indian girl afterwards told me the medicinal virtues.
I doubt not those students of the soil knew a use to
every fair emblem, on which we could only look to
admire its hues and shape.

After noon we were ferried by a girl, (unfortu-
nately not of the most picturesque appearance) across
the Kishwaukie, the most graceful stream, and on
whose bosom rested many full-blown water-lilies,
twice as large as any of ours. I was told that, en
revanche, they were scentless, but I still regret that
I could not get at one of them to try.

Query, did the lilied fragrance which, in the
miraculous times, accompanied visions of saints and
angels, proceed from water or garden lilies ?

Kishwaukie is, according to tradition, the scene of
a famous battle, and its many grassy mounds con-

6*

66 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

tain the bones of the valiant. On these waved
thickly the mysterious purple flower, of which I have
spoken before. I think it springs from the blood of
the Indians, as the hyacinth did from that of Apollo's
darling.

The ladies of our host's family at Oregon, when
they first went there, after all the pains and plagues
of building and settling, found their first pastime in
opening one of these mounds, in which they found,
I think, three of the departed, seated in the Indian
fashion.

One of these same ladies, as she was making
bread one winter morning, saw from the window a
deer directly before the house. She ran out, with
her hands covered with dough, calling the others,
and they caught him bodily before he had time to
escape. .

Here (at Kishwaukie) we received a visit from a
ragged and barefoot, but bright-eyed gentleman,
who seemed to be the intellectual loafer, the walking
Will's coffeehouse of the place. He told us many
charming snake stories ; among others, of himself
having seen seventeen young ones reenter the mother
snake, on the intrusion of a visiter.

This night we reached Belvidere, a flourishing
town in Boon county, where was the tomb, now
despoiled, of Big Thunder. In this later day we felt
happy to find a really good hotel.

From this place, by two days of very leisurely and
devious journeying, we reached Chicago, and thus
ended a journey, which one at least of the party
might have wished unending.

RETROSPECTION. 67

I have not been particularly anxious to give the
geography of the scene, inasmuch as it seemed to me
no route, nor series of stations, but a garden inter-
spersed with cottages" groves and flowery lawns,
through which a stately river ran. I had no guide-
book, kept no diary, do not know how many miles
we travelled each day, nor how many in all. What
I got from the journey was the poetic impression of
the country at large ; it is all I have aimed to com-
municate.

The narrative might have been made much more
interesting, as life was at the time, by many piquant
anecdotes and tales drawn from private life. But
here courtesy restrains the pen,- for I know those
who received the stranger with such frank kindness
would feel ill requited by its becoming the means of
fixing many spy-glasses, even though the scrutiny
might be one of admiring interest, upon their private
homes.

For many of these, too, I was indebted to a friend,
whose property they more lawfully are. This friend
was one of those rare beings who are equally at home
in nature and with man. He knew a tale of all that
ran and swam, and flew, or only grew, possessing
that extensive familiarity with things which shows
equal sweetness of sympathy and playful penetration.
Most refreshing to me was his unstudied lore, the un-
written poetry which common life presents to a strong
and gentle mind. It was a great contrast to the
subtleties of analysis, the philosophic strainings of
which I had seen too much. But I will not attempt
to transplant it. May it profit others as it did me in

68 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

the region where it was born, where it belongs. The
evening of our return to Chicago the sunset was of a
splendor and calmness beyond any we saw at the
West. The twilight that succeeded was equally
beautiful ; soft, pathetic, but just so calm. When af-
terwards I learned this was the evening of Allston's
death, it seemed to me as if this glorious pageant was
not without connection with that event ; at least, it
inspired similar emotions, — a heavenly gate closing
a path adorned with shows well worthy Paradise.

Farewell, ye soft and sumptuous solitudes !

Ye fairy distances, ye lordly woods,

Haunted by paths like those that Poussin knew,

When after his all gazers eyes he drew ;

I go, — and if I never more may steep

An eager heart in your enchantments deep,

Yet ever to itself that heart may say,

Be not exacting ; thou hast lived one day ;

Hast looked on that which matches with thy mood,

Impassioned sweetness of full being's flood,

Where nothing checked the bold yet gentle wave,

Where nought repelled the lavish love that gave.

A tender blessing lingers o'er the scene,

Like some young mother's thought, fond, yet serene,

And through its life new-born our lives have been.

Once more farewell, — a sad, a sweet farewell ;

And, if I never must behold you more,

In other worlds I will not cease to tell

The rosary I here have numbered o'er ;

FAREWELL. 69

And bright-haired Hope will lend a gladdened ear,
And Love will free him from the grasp of Fear,
And Gorgon critics, while the tale they hear,
Shall dew their stony glances with a tear,
If I but catch one echo from your spell ; —
And so farewell, — a grateful, sad farewell !

CHAPTER, IV.

CHICAGO AGAIN.

Chicago had become interesting to me now, that I
knew it as the portal to so fair a scene. I had be-
come interested in the land, in the people, and looked
sorrowfully on the lake on which I must soon em-
bark, to leave behind what I had just begun to
enjoy.

Now was the time to see the lake. The July
moon was near its full, and night after night it rose
in a cloudless sky above this majestic sea. The heat
was excessive, so that there was no enjoyment of life,
except in the night, but then the air was of that de-
licious temperature, worthy of orange groves. How-
ever, they were not wanted ; — nothing was, as that
full light fell on the faintly rippling waters which then
seemed boundless.

A poem received shortly after, from a friend in
Massachusetts, seemed to say that the July moon
shone there not less splendid, and may claim inser-
tion here.

TRIFORMIS.

TRIFORMIS.

So pure her forehead's dazzling white,

So swift and clear her radiant eves,
Within the treasure of whose licrht

Lay undeveloped destinies, —
Of thoughts repressed such hidden st^re

Was hinted by each flitting smile,
I could but wonder and adore,

Far off, in awe, I gazed the while.

I gazed at her, as at the moon,

Hanging in lustrous twilight skies,

Whose virgin crescent, sinking soon,
Peeps through the leaves before it flies.

Untouched Diana, flitting dim,

While sings the wood its evening hymn.

ir.

Again we met. O joyful meeting !

Her radiance now was all for me,
Like kindly airs her kindly greeting,

So full, so musical, so free.
Within romantic forest aisles,

Within romantic paths we walked,
I bathed me in her sister smiles,

I breathed her beauty as we talked.

So full-orbed Cynthia walks the skies,
Fillino- the earth with melodies,

Even so she condescends to kiss

Drowsy Endymions, coarse and dull,

Or fills our waking souls with bliss,
Making long nights too beautiful.

72 SUMMER ON THE LAKE3,

III.

O fair, but fickle lady-moon,

Why must thy full form ever wane 1

0 love ! O friendship ! why so soon
Must your sweet light recede again ?

1 wake me in the dead of night,

And start, — for through the misty gloom
Red Hecate stares — a boding sight ! —
Looks in, but never fills my room.

Thou music of my boyhood's hour !

Thou shining light on manhood's way !
No more dost thou fair influence shower

To move my soul by night or day.
O strange ! that while in hall and street

Thy hand I touch, thy grace I meet,
Such miles of polar ice should part

The slightest touch of mind and heart !
But all thy love has waned, and so

I gladly let thy beauty go.

Now that I am borrowing, I will also give a letter
received at this time, and extracts from others from
an earlier traveller, and in a different region of the
country from that I saw, which, I think, in different
ways, admirably descriptive of the country.

" And you, too, love the Prairies, flying voyager of
a summer hour ; but I have only there owned the
wild forest, the wide-spread meadows ; there only
built my house, and seen the livelong day the thought-
ful shadows of the great clouds color, with all-tran-
sient browns, the untrampled floor of grass ; there
has Spring pranked the long smooth reaches with

THE PRAIRIES. 73

those golden flowers, whereby became the fields a
sea too golden to o'erlast the heats. Yes ! and with
many a yellow bell she gilded our unbounded path,
that sank in the light swills of the varied surface,
skirted the un tilled barrens, nor shunned the steep
banks of rivers darting merrily on. There has th<
white snow frolicsomely strown itself, till all tl. at vast,
outstretched distance glittered like a mirror in which
only the heavens were reflected, and among these
drifts our steps have been curbed. Ah ! many days
of precious weather are on the Prairies !

" You have then found, after many a weary hour,
when Time has locked your temples as in a circle of
heated metal, some cool, sweet, swift-gliding mo-
ments, the iron ring of necessity ungirt, and the
fevered pulses at rest. You have also found this
where fresh nature suffers no ravage, amid those bow-
ers of wild-wood, those dream-like, bee-sung, mur-
muring and musical plains, swimming under their
hazy distances, as if there, in that warm and deep
back ground, stood the fairy castle of our hopes, with
its fountains, its pictures, its many mystical figures in
repose. Ever could we rove over those sunny dis-
tances, breathing that modulated wind, eyeing those
so well-blended, imaginative, yet thoughtful surfan
and above us wide — wide a horizon effortless and
superb as a young divinity.

"I was a prisoner where you glide, the summer's
pensioned guest, and my chains were the past and
the future, darkness and blowing sand. Then . \<ry
weary, I received from the distance a sweet emblem
of an incorruptible, lofty and pervasive nature, but
7

74 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

was I less weary ? I was a prisoner, and you, plains,
were my prison bars.

" Yet never, O never, beautiful plains, had I any
feeling for you but profoundest gratitude, for indeed
ye are only fair, grand and majestic, while I had
scarcely a right there. Now, ye stand in that past
day, grateful images of unshattered repose, simple in
your tranquillity, strong in your self-possession, yet
ever musical and springing as the footsteps of a child.

" Ah ! that to some poet, whose lyre had never
lost a string, to whom mortality, kinder than is her
custom, had vouchsafed a day whose down had been
untouched, — that to him these plains might enter,
and flow forth in airy song. And you, forests, under
whose symmetrical shields of dark green the colors of
the fawns move, like the waters of the river under
its spears, — its cimeters of flag, where, in gleaming
circles of steel, the breasts of the wood-pigeons flash
in the playful sunbeam, and many sounds, many notes
of no earthly music, come over the well-relieved
glades, — should not your depth pass into that
poet's heart, — in your depths should he not fuse his
own ? "

The other letters show the painter's eye, as this
the poet's heart.

" Springfield, Illinois, May 20, 1S40.

" Yesterday morning I left Griggsville, my knap-
sack at my back, pursued my journey all day on foot,
and found so new and great delight in this charming
country, that I must needs tell you about it. Do
you remember our saying once, that we never found

THE PRAIRIES. 75

the trees tall enough, the fields green enough. Well,
the trees are for once tall, and fair to look upon, and
one unvarying carpet of the tenderest green covers
these marvellous fields, that spread out their smooth
sod for miles and miles, till they even reach the
horizon. But, to begin my day's journey. Griggs-
ville is situated on the west side of the Illinois
river, on a high prairie; between it and the river is a
long range of bluffs which reaches a hundred miles
north and south, then a wide river bottom, and then
the river. It was a mild, showery morning, and I
directed my steps toward the bluffs. They are
covered with forest, not like our forests, tangled and
impassable, but where the trees stand fair and apart
from one another, so that you might ride every
where about on horseback, and the tops of the hills
are generally bald, and covered with green turf, like
our pastures. Indeed, the whole country reminds
me perpetually of one that has been carefully culti-
vated by a civilized people, who had been suddenly
removed from the earth, with all the works of their
hands, and the land given again into nature's keep-
ing. The solitudes are not savage ; they have not
that dreary, stony loneliness that used to affect me
in our own country ; they never repel ; there are no
londv heights, no isolated spots, but all is gentle,
mild, inviting, — all is accessible. In following this
winding, hilly road for four or five miles, I think I
counted at least a dozen new kinds of wild flowers,
not timid, retiring little plants like ours, but bold
flowers of rich colors, covering the ground in abun-
dance. One very common flower resembles our car-

76 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

dinal flower, though not of so deep a color, another
is very like rocket or phlox, but smaller and of va-
rious colors, white, blue and purple. Beautiful white
lupines I find too, violets white and purple. The
vines and parasites are magnificent. I followed on
this road till I came to the prairie which skirts the
river, and tins, of all the beauties of this region, is
the most peculiar and wonderful. Imagine a vast
and gently-swelling pasture of the brightest green
grass, stretching away from you on every side, be-
hind, toward these hills I have described, in all other
directions, to a belt of tall trees, all growing up with
noble proportions, from the generous soil. It is an
unimagined picture of abundance and peace. Some-
where about, you are sure to see a huge herd of
cattle, often white, and generally brightly marked,
grazing. All looks like the work of man's hand, but
you see no vestige of man, save perhaps an almost
imperceptible hut on the edge of the prairie. Reach-
ing the river, I ferried myself across, and then crossed
over to take the Jacksonville railroad, but, finding
there was no train, passed the night at a farm house.
And here may find its place this converse between
the solitary old man and the young traveller.

Solitary.

My son, with weariness thou seemest spent,

And toiling on the dusty road all day,

Weary and pale, yet with inconstant step,

Hither and thither turning, — seekest thou

To find aught lost, or what dark care pursues thee I

If thou art weary, rest, if hungry, eat.

evening thoughts. 77

Traveller.

Oil rather, father, let me ask of thee

What is it I do seek, what thing I lack ?

These many days I've left my lather's hall,

Forth driven by insatiable desire,

That, like the wind, now gently murmuring,

Enticed me forward with its own sweet voice

Through many-leaved woods, and valleys deep,

Yet ever lied before me. Then with sound

Stronger than hurrying tempest, seizing me,

Forced me to fly its power. Forward still,

Bound by enchanted ties, i seek its source.

Sometimes it is a something I have lost,

Known long since, before I bent my steps

Toward this beautiful broad plane of earth.

Sometimes it is a spirit yet unknown,

In whose dim-imaged features seem to smile

The dear delight of these high-mansioned thoughts,

That sometimes visit me. Like unto mine

Her lineaments appear, but beautiful,

As of a sister in a far-off world,

Waiting to welcome me. And when I think .

To reach and clasp the figure, it is gone,

And some ill-omened ghastly vision comes

To bid beware, and not too curiously

Demand the secrets of that distant world,

Whose shadow haunts me. — On the waves below

But now I o-nzed, warmed with the setting sun,

Who Bent his golden streamers to my feet,

It seemed a pathway to a world beyond,

And I looked round, if that my spirit beckoned

That I might follow it.

Solitary.
Dreams all, my son. Yes, even so I dreamed,

7*

78 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

And even so was thwarted. You must learn
To dream another long and troublous dream,
The dream of life. And you shall think you wake,
And think the shadows substance, love and hate,
Exchange and barter, joy, and weep, and dance.
And this too shall be dream.

Traveller,

Oh who can say

Where lies the boundary ? What solid things

That daily mock our senses, shall dissolve

Before the might within, while shadowy forms

Freeze into stark reality, defying

The force and will of man. These forms I see,

They may go with me through eternity,

And bless or curse with ceaseless company,

While yonder man, that I met yesternight,

Where is he now ? He passed before my eyes,

He is gone, but these stay with me ever.

That night the young man rested with the old,

And, grave or gay, in laughter or in tears,

They wore the. night in converse. Morning came,

The dreamer took his solitary way ;

And, as he pressed the old man's hand, he sighed,

Must this too be a dream 1

Afterwards, of the rolling prairie. " There was
one of twenty miles in extent, not flat, but high and
rolling, so that when you arrived at a high part, by-
gentle ascents, the view was beyond measure grand ;
as far as the eye could reach, nothing but the green,
rolling plain, and at a vast distance, groves, all look-
ing gentle and cultivated, yet all uninhabited. I

HASTE MA MLS WASTE. 79

think it would impress you, as it does me, that these
scenes are truly sublime. I have a sensation of vast-
ness which I have sought in vain among high moun-
tains. Mountains crowd one sensation on another,
till all is excitement, all is surprise, wonder, enchant-
ment. Here is neither enchantment or disappoint-
ment, but expectation fully realized. I have always
had an attachment for a plain. The Roman Cam-
pagna is a prairie. Peoria is in a most lovely situa-
tion. In fact I am so delighted that I am as full
of superlatives as the Italian language. I could,
however, find fault enough, if you ask what I dis-
like."

But no one did ask ; it is not worth while where
there is so much to admire. Yet the following is
a good statement of the shadow side.

" As to the boasts about the rapid progress here,
give me rather the linn fibre of a slow and knotty
growth. I could not help thinking as much when I
was talking to E. the other day, whom I met on
board the boat. He quarrelled with Boston for its
slowness ; said it was a bad place for a young man.
He could not make himself felt, could not see the
effects of his exertions as he could here. — To be
sure he could not. Here he comes, like a vank
farmer, with all the knowledge that our hard soil
and laborious cultivation could give him, and what
wonder if he is surprised at the work of his own
hands, when he comes to such a soil as this, But
he feeds not so many mouths, though lie tills more
acn The plants he raises have not so exquisite a
form, the vegetables so fine a flavor. His cultivation

80 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

becomes more negligent, he is not so good a farmer.
Is not this a true view ? It strikes me continually.
The traces of a man's hand in a new country are
rarely productive of beauty. It is a cutting down of
forest trees to make zigzag fences."

The most picturesque objects to be seen from
Chicago on the inland side were the lines of Hoosier
wagons. These rude farmers, the large first product
of the soil, travel leisurely along, sleeping in their
wagons by night, eating only what they bring wTith
them. In the town they observe the same plan, and
trouble no luxurious hotel for board and lodging.
In the town they look like foreign peasantry, and
contrast well with the many Germans, Dutch, and
Irish. In the country it is very pretty to see them
prepared to " camp out " at night, their horses taken
out of harness, and they lounging under the trees,
enjoying the evening meal.

On the lake side it is fine to see the great boats
come panting it from their rapid and marvellous jour-
ney. Especially at night the motion of their lights
is very majestic.

When the favorite boats, the Great Western and
Illinois, are going out, the town is thronged with
people from the south and farther west, to go in
them. These moonlight nights I would hear the
French rippling and fluttering familiarly amid the rude
ups and downs of the Hoosier dialect.

At the hotel table were daily to be seen new
faces, and new stories to be learned. And any one
who has a large acquaintance may be pretty sure of
meeting some of them here in the course of a few
days.

MARIANA. 81

Among those whom I met was Mrs. Z., the aunt
of an old schoolmate, to whom I impatiently hast-
ened, as soon as the meal was over, to demand news
of Mariana. The answer startled me. Mariana, so
full of life, was dead. That form, the most rich in
energy and coloring of any I had ever seen, had
faded from the earth. The circle of youthful asso-
ciations had given way in the part, that seemed the
strongest. What I now learned of the story of this
life, and what was by myself remembered, may be
bound together in this slight sketch.

At the boarding-school to which I was too early
sent, a fond, a proud, and timid child, I saw among
the ranks of the gay and graceful, bright or earnest
girls, only one who interested my fancy or touched
my young heart ; and this was Mariana. She was,
on the father's side, of Spanish Creole blood, but had
been sent to the Atlantic coast, to receive a school
education under the care of her aunt,. Mrs. Z.

This lady had kept her mostly at home with her-
self, and Mariana had gone from her house to a day-
school ; but the aunt, being absent for a time in Eu-
rope, she had now been unfortunately committed for
some time to the mercies of a boarding-school.

A strange bird she proved there, — a lonely swal-
low that could not make for itself a summer. At
first, her schoolmates were captivated with her ways ;
her love of wild dances and sudden song, her freaks
of passion and of wit. She was always new, always
surprising, and, for a time, charming.

But, after awhile, they tired of her. She could
never be depended on to join in their plans, yet she

82 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

expected them to follow out hers with their whole
strength. She was very loving, even infatuated in
her own affections, and exacted from those who had
professed any love for her, the devotion she was will-
ing to bestow.

Yet there was a vein of haughty caprice in her
character ; a love of solitude, which made her at
times wish to retire entirely, and at these times she
would expect to be thoroughly understood, and let
alone, yet to be welcomed back when she returned.
She did not thwart others in their humors, but she
never doubted of great indulgence from them.

Some singular habits she had which, when new,
charmed, but, after acquaintance, displeased her com-
panions. She had by nature the same habit and
power of excitement that is described in the spinning
dervishes of the East. Like them, she would spin
until all around her were giddy, while her own brain,
instead of being disturbed, was excited to great ac-
tion. Pausing, she would declaim verse of others or
her own ; act many parts, with strange catch-words
and burdens that seemed to act with mystical power
on her own fancy, sometimes stimulating her to con-
vulse the hearer with laughter, sometimes to melt
him to tears. When her power began to languish,
she would spin again till fired to recommence her
singular drama, into which she wove figures from the
scenes of her earlier childhood, her companions, and
the dignitaries she sometimes saw, with fantasies un-
known to life, unknown to heaven or earth.

This excitement, as may be supposed, was not
good for her. It oftenest came on in the evening,

MARIANA. -.}

and often spoiled her sleep. She would wake in
the night, and cheat her restlessness by inventions
that teazcd, while they sometimes diverted her com-
panions.

She was also a sleep-walker; and t his one trait of
her case did somewhat alarm her guardians, who,
otherwise, showed the same profound stupidity as to
this peculiar being, usual in the overseers of the young.
They consulted a physician, who said she would out-
grow it, and prescribed a milk diet.

Meantime, the fever of this ardent and too early
stimulated nature was constantly increased by the
restraints and narrow routine of the boarding school.
She was always devising means to break in upon it.
She had a taste which would have seemed ludicrous
to her mates, if they had not felt some awe of her,
from a touch of genius and power that never left her,
for costume and fancy dresses, always some sash
twisted about her, some drapery, something odd in
the arrangement of her hair and dress, so that the
methodical preceptress dared not let her go our with-
out a careful scrutiny and remodelling, whose sober-
izing cfiects generally disappeared the moment she
was in the free air.

At last, a vent for her was found in private theatri-
cals. Play followed play, and in these and the re-
hearsals she found entertainment congenial with her.
The principal parts, as a matter of course, fell to her
lot; most of the good suggestions and arrangements
came from her, and for a time she ruled masterly and
shone triumphant.

During these performances the girls had heightened

84 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

their natural bloom with artificial red ; this was de-
lightful to them — it was something so out of the way.
But Mariana, after the plays were over, kept her car-
mine saucer on the dressing-table, and put on her
blushes regularly as the morning.

When stared and jeered at, she at first said she did
it because she thought it made her look prettier ; but,
after a while, she became quite petulant about it, —
would make no reply to any joke, but merely kept on
doing it.

This irritated the girls, as all eccentricity does the
world in general, more than vice or malignity.
They talked it over among themselves, till they got
wrought up to a desire of punishing, once for all,
this sometimes amusing, but so often provoking non-
conformist.

Having obtained the leave of the mistress, they
laid, with great glee, a plan one evening, which was
to be carried into execution next day at dinner.

Among Mariana's irregularities was a great aver-
sion to the meal-time ceremonial. So long, so tire-
some she found it, to be seated at a certain moment,
to wait while each one was served at so large a table,
and one where there was scarcely any conversation ;
from day to day it became more heavy to her to sit
there, or go there at all. Often as possible she ex-
cused herself on the ever-convenient plea of head-
ache, and was hardly ever ready when the dinner-
bell rang.

To-day it found her on the balcony, lost in gazing
on the beautiful prospect. I have heard her say af-
terwards, she had rarely in her life been so happy, —

MARIANA. 85

and she was one with whom happiness was a. still
rapture. It was one of the most blessed summer
days ; the shadows of great white clouds empurpled
the distant hills for a few moments only to leave
them more golden ; the tall grass of the wide fields
waved in the softest breeze. Pure blue were the
heavens, and the same hue of pure contentment was
in the heart of Mariana.

Suddenly on her bright mood jarred the dinner
bell. At first rose her usual thought, I will not, can-
not go ; and then the must, which daily life can al-
ways enforce, even upon the butterflies and birds,
came, and she walked reluctantly to her room. She
merely changed her dress, and never thought of ad-
ding the artificial rose to her cheek.

When she took her seat in the dining-hall, and
was asked if she would be helped, raising her eyes,
she raW the person who asked her was deeply
rouged, with a bright glaring spot, perfectly round, in
either cheek. She looked at the next, same appa-
rition ! She then slowly passed her eyes down the
whole line, and saw the same, with a suppressed
smile distorting every countenance. Catching the
design at once, she deliberately looked along her
own side of the table, at every schoolmate in turn ;
every one had joined in the trick. The teachers
strove to be grave, but she saw they enjoyed the joke.
The servants could not suppress a titter.

When Warren Hastings stood at the bar of West-
minster Hall — when the Methodist preacher walked
through a line of men, each of whom greeted him
with a brickbat or a rotten egg, they had some pre-

8

86 SUMMER OX THE LAKES.

paration for the crisis, and it might not be very diffi-
cult to meet it with an impassive brow. Our little
girl was quite unprepared to find herself in the midst
of a world which despised her, and triumphed in her
disgrace.

She had ruled, like a queen, in the midst of her
companions ; she had shed her animation through
their lives, and loaded them with prodigal favors, nor
once suspected that a powerful favorite might not be
loved. Now, she felt that she had been but a dan-
gerous plaything in the hands of those whose hearts
she never had doubted.

Yet, the occasion found her equal to it, for Mari-
ana had the kind of spirit, which, in a better cause,
had made the Roman matron truly say of her death-
wound, " It is not painful, Poetus." She did not
blench — she did not change countenance. She
swallowed her dinner with apparent composure. She
made remarks to those near her, as if she had no
eyes.

The wrath of the foe of course rose higher, and
the moment they were freed from the restraints of
the dining-room, they all ran off, gaily calling, and
sarcastically laughing, with backward glances, at Ma-
riana, left alone.

She went alone to her room, locked the door, and
threw herself on the floor in strong convulsions.
These had sometimes threatened her life, as a child,
but of later years, she had outgrown them. School-
hours came, and she was not there. A little girl, sent
to her door, could get no answer. The teachers be-
came alarmed, and broke it open. Bitter was their

MARIANA. 87

penitence and that of her companions at the state in
which they found her. For some hours, terrible anx-
iety was felt ; but, at last, nature, exhausted, relieved
herself by a d; ep slumber.

From this Mariana rose an altered beincf. She
made no reply to the expressions of sorrow from her
companions, none to the grave and kind, but un-
discerning comments of her teacher. She did not
name the source of her anguish, and its poisoned
dart sank deeply in. It was this thought which
stung her so. What, not one, not a single one, in
the hour of trial, to take my part, not one who re-
fused to take part against me. Past words of love,
and caresses, little heeded at the time, rose to her
memory, and gave fuel to her distempered thought*.
Beyond the sense of universal perfidy, of burning
resentment, she could not get. And Mariana, born
for love, now bated all the world.

The change, however, which these feelings made in
her conduct and appearance bore no such construction
to the careless observer. Her gay freaks were quite
gone, her wildness, her invention. Her dress w;is uni-
form, her manner much subdued. Her chief interest
seemed now to lie in her studies, and in music. Her
companions she never sought, but they, partly from
uneasy remorseful feelings, partly that they really
liked her much better now that she did not oppress
and puzzle them, sought her continually. And here
the black shadow comes upon her life, the only stain
upon the history of Mariana.

They talked to her, as girls, having few topics,
naturally do, of one another. And the demon rose

88 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

within her, and spontaneously, without design, gen-
erally without words of positive falsehood, she be-
came a genius of discord among them. She fanned
those flames of envy and jealousy which a wise, true
word from a third will often quench forever ; by a
glance, or a seemingly light reply, she planted the
seeds of dissension, till there was scarce a peaceful
affection, or sincere intimacy in the circle where she
lived, and could not but rule, for she was one whose
nature was to that of the others as fire to clay.

It was at this time that I came to the school, and
first saw Mariana. Me she charmed at once, for I
was a sentimental child, who, in my early ill health,
had been indulged in reading novels, till I had no
eyes for the common greens and browns of life. The
heroine of one of these, " The Bandit's Bride," I im-
mediately saw in Mariana. Surely the Bandit's Bride
had just such hair, and such strange, lively ways, and
such a sudden flash of the eye. The Bandit's Bride,
too, was born to be " misunderstood " by all but her
lover. But Mariana, I was determined, should be
more fortunate, for, until her lover appeared, I my-
self would be the wise and delicate being who could
understand her.

It was not, however, easy to approach her for this
purpose. Did I offer to run and fetch her handker-
chief, she was obliged to go to her room, and would
rather do it herself. She did not like to have people
turn over for her the leaves of the music book as she
played. Did I approach my stool to her feet, she
moved away, as if to give me room. The bunch of
wild flowers which I timidly laid beside her plate was
left there.

MARIANA. -9

After some weeks my desire to attract her notice
really preyed upon me, and one day meeting her
alone in the entry, I fell upon my knees, and kissing
her hand, cried, " O Mariana, do let me love you,
and try to love me a little." But my idol snatched
away her hand, and, laughing more wildly than the
Bandit's Bride was ever described to have done, ran
into her room. After that day her manner to me
was not only cold, but repulsive ; I felt myself scorned,
and became very unhappy.

Perhaps four months had passed thus, when, one
afternoon, it became obvious that something more
than common was brewing. Dismay and mystery
were written in many faces of the older girls ; much
whispering was going on in corners.

In the evening, after prayers, the principal bade
us stay ; and, in a grave, sad voice, summoned forth
Maiiana to answer charges to be made against her.

Mariana came forward, and leaned against the
chimney-piece. Eight ef the older girls came for-
ward, and preferred against her charges, alas, too
well-founded, of calumny and falsehood.

My heart sank within me, as one after the other
brought up their proofs, and I saw they were too
strong to be resisted. I could not bear the thought
of this second disgrace of my shining favorite. The
first had been whispered to me, though the girls did
not like to talk about it. I must confess, such is the
charm of strength to softer natures, that neither of
these crises could deprive Mariana of hers in my
eyes.

90 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

At first, she defended herself with self-possession
and eloquence. But when she found she could no
more resist the truth, she suddenly threw herself
down, dashing her head, with all her force, against
the iron hearth, on which a fire was burning, and
was taken up senseless.

The affright of those present was great. Now
that they had perhaps killed her, they reflected it
would have been as well, if they had taken warning
from the former occasion, and approached very care-
fully a nature so capable of any extreme. After
awhile she revived, with a faint groan, amid the sobs
of her companions. I was on my knees by the bed,
and held her cold hand. One of those most ag-
grieved took it from me to beg her pardon, and say
it was impossible not to love her. She made no
reply.

Neither that night, nor for several days, could a
word be obtained from her, nor would she touch
food ; but, when it was presented to her, or any one
drew near for any cause, she merely turned away her
head, and gave no sign. The teacher saw that some
terrible nervous affection had fallen upon her, that
she grew more and more feverish. She knew not
what to do.

Meanwhile a new revolution had taken place in
the mind of the passionate, but nobly-tempered child.
All these months nothing but the sense of injury had
rankled in her heart. She had gone on in one
mood, doing what the demon prompted, without
scruple and without fear.

But, at the moment of detection, the tide ebbed,

MARIANA. 91

and the bottom of her soul lay revealed to her eye.
How black, how stained and sad. Strange, strange
that she had not seen befoie the baseness and cruelty
of falsehood, the loveliness of truth. Now, amid the
wreck, uprose the moral nature which never before
had attained the ascendant. " But," she thought,
" too late, sin is revealed to me in all its deformity,
and, sin-defiled, I will not, cannot live. The main-
spring of life is broken."

And thus passed slowly by her hours in that black
despair of which only youtli is capable. In older
years men suffer more dull pain, as each sorrow that
comes drops its leaden weight into the past, and,
similar features of character bringing similar results,
draws up a heavy burden buried in those depths.
But only youth has energy, with fixed unwinking
gaze, to contemplate grief, to hold it in the arms and
to the heart, like a child which makes it wretched,
yet is indubitably its own.

The lady who took charge of this sad child had
nev<r well understood her before, but had always
looked on her with great tenderness. And now love
seemed, when all around were in greatest distress,
fearing to call in medical aid, fearing to do without
it, to teach her where the only balm was to be found
that could have healed this wounded spirit.

One night she came in, bringing a calming draught
Mariana was sitting, as usual, her hair loose, her
dress the same robe they had put on her at first, her
eyes fixed vacantly upon the whited wall. To the
proffers and entreaties of her nurse she made no
reply.

92 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

The lady burst into tears, but Mariana did not
seem even to observe it.

The lady then said, " O my child, do not despair,
do not think that one great fault can mar a whole
life. Let me trust you, let me tell you the griefs of
my sad life. I will tell to you, Mariana, what I
never expected to impart to any one."

And so she told her tale : it was one of pain, of
shame, borne, not for herself, but for one near and
dear as herself. Mariana knew the lady, knew the
pride and reserve of her nature ; she had often ad-
mired to see how the cheek, lovely, but no longer
young, mantled with the deepest blush of youth, and
the blue eyes were cast down at any little emotion.
She had understood the proud sensibility of the
character. She fixed her eyes on those now raised
to hers, bright with fast falling tears. She heard the
story to the end, and then, without saying a word,
stretched out her hand for the cup.

She returned to life, but it was as one who has
passed through the valley of death. The heart of
stone was quite broken in her. The fiery life fallen
from flame to coal. When her strength was a little
restored, she had all her companions summoned, and
said to them ; " I deserved to die, but a generous
trust has called me back to life. I will be worthy of
it, nor ever betray the truth, or resent injury more.
Can you forgive the past?"

And they not only forgave, but, with love and
earnest tears, clasped in their arms the returning
sister. They vied with one another in offices of
humble love to the humbled one ; and, let it be re-

MARIANA. 93

corded as an instance of the pure honor of which
young hearts are capable, that these facts, known to
forty persons, never, so far as I know, transpired
beyond those walls.

It was not loner after this that Mariana was sum-
moned home. She went thither a wonderfully in-
structed being, though in ways those who had sent
her forth to learn little dreamed of.

Never was forgotten the vow of the returning
prodigal. Mariana could not resent, could not
plav false. The terrible crisis, which she so early
passed through, probably prevented the world from
hearing much of her. A wild fire was tamed in that
hour of. penitence at the boarding school, such as has
oftentimes wrapped court and camp in its destructive
glow.

But great were the perils she had yet to undergo,
for she was one of those barks which easily get be-
yond soundings, and ride not lightly on the plunging
billow.

Her return to her native climate seconded the
effects of inward revolutions. The cool airs of the
north had exasperated nerves too susceptible for their
tension. Those of the south restored her to a more
soft and indolent state. Energy gave place to feel-
ing, turbulence to intensity of character.

At this time love was the natural guest, and he
came to her under a form that might have deluded
one less ready for delusion.

Sylvain was a person well proportioned to her lot
in years, family, and fortune. His personal beauty
was not great, but of a noble character. Repose

94 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

marked his slow gesture, and the steady gaze of his
large brown eye, but it was a repose that would give
way to a blaze of energy when the occasion called.
In his stature, expression, and heavy coloring, he
might not unfitly be represented by the great mag-
nolias that inhabit the forests of that climate. His
voice, like everything about him, was rich and soft,
rather than sweet or delicate.

Mariana no sooner knew him than she loved, and
her love, lovely as she was, soon excited his. But,
oh ! it is a curse to woman to love first, or most. In
so doing she reverses the natural relations, and her
heart can never, never be satisfied with what ensues.

Mariana loved first, and loved most, for she had
most force and variety to love with. Sylvain seemed,
at first, to take her to himself, as the deep southern
night might some fair star. But it proved not so.

Mariana was a very intellectual being, and she
needed companionship. This she could only have
with Sylvain, in the paths of passion and action.
Thoughts he had none, and little delicacy of senti-
ment. The gifts she loved to prepare of such for
him, he took with a sweet, but indolent smile ;
he held them lightly, and soon they fell from his
grasp. He loved to have her near him, to feel the
glow and fragrance of her nature, but cared not to
explore the little secret paths whence that fragrance
wras collected.

Mariana knew not this for a long time. Loving
so much, she imagined all the rest, and, where she
felt a blank, always hoped that further communion
would fill it up. When she found this could never

MARIANA. 95

be ; that there was absolutely a whole province of
her being to which nothing in his answered, she
was too deeply in love to leave him. Often after
passing hours together, beneath the southern moon,
when, amid the sweet intoxication of mutual lovi
she still felt the desolation of solitude, and a repres-
sion of her finer powers, she had asked herself, can I
give him up ? But the heart always passionately an-
swered, no ! I may be miserable with him, but I
cannot live without him.

And the last miserable feeling of these conflicts
was, that if the lover, soon to be the bosom friend,
could have dreamed of these conflicts, he would have
laughed, or else been angry, even enough to give
her up.

Ah weakness of the strong. Of these strong only
where strength is weakness. Like others she had
the decisions of life to make, before she had light by
which to make them. Let none condemn her.
Those who have not erred as fatally, should thank
the guardian angel who gave them more time to
prepare for judgment, but blame no children who
thought at arm's length to find the moon. Mariana,
with a heart capable of highest Eros, gave it to one
who knew love only as a flower or plaything, and
bound her heartstrings to one who parted his
lightly as the ripe fruit leaves the bough. The se-
quel could not fail. Many console themselves for
the one great mistake with their children, with the
world. This was not possible to Mariana. A few
months of domestic life she still was almost happy.
But Sylvain then grew tired. He wanted business

96 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

and the world ; of these she had no knowledge, for
them no faculties. He wanted in her the head of
his house ; she to make her heart his home. No
compromise was possible between natures of such
unequal poise, and which had met only on one or
two points. Through all its stages she

" felt
The agonizing sense
Of seeing love from passion melt
Into indifference ;
The fearful shame that, day by day,
' Burns onward, still to burn,
To have thrown her precious heart away.
And met this black return,"

till death at last closed the scene. Not that she
died of one downright blow on the heart. That is
not the way such cases proceed. I cannot detail all
the symptoms, for I was not there to watch them,
and aunt Z. was neither so faithful an observer or
narrator as I have shown myself in the school-day
passages ; but, generally, they were as follows.

Sylvain wanted to go into the world, or let it into
his house. Mariana consented ; but, with an un-
satisfied heart, and no lightness of character, she
played her part ill there. The sort of talent and
facility she had displayed in early days, were not the
least like what is called out in the social world by
the desire to please and to shine. Her excitement
had been muse-like, that of the improvisatrice, whose
kindling fancy seeks to create an atmosphere round
it, and makes the chain through which to set free its
electric sparks. That had been a time of wild and
exuberant life. After her character became more

MARIANA. 97

tender and concentrated, strong affection or a pure
enthusiasm might still have called out beautiful tal-
ents in her. But in the first she was utterly disap-
pointed. The second was not roused within her
thought. She did not expand into various life, and
remained unequal ; sometimes too passive, sometimes
too ardent, and not sufficiently occupied with what
occupied those around her to come on the same level
with them and embellish their hours.

Thus she lost ground daily with her husband, who,
comparing her with the careless shining dames of
society, wondered why he had found her so charming
in solitude.

At intervals, when they were left alone, Mariana
wanted to open her heart, to tell the thoughts of her
mind. She was so conscious of secret riches within
herself, that sometimes it seemed, could she but re-
veal a glimpse of them to the eye of Sylvain, he
would be attracted near her again, and take a path
where they could walk hand in hand. Sylvain, in
these intervals, wanted an indolent repose. His home
was his castle. He wanted no scenes too exciting
there. Light jousts and plays were well enough,
but no grave encounters. He liked to lounge, to
sing, to read, to sleep. In fine, Sylvain became the
kind, but preoccupied husband, Mariana, the solitary
and wretched wife. He was oft' continually, with
his male companions, on excursions or affairs of
pleasure. At home Mariana found that neither her
books nor music would console her.

She was of too strong a nature to yield without a
9

98 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

struggle to so dull a fiend as despair. She looked
into other hearts, seeking whether she could there
find such home as an orphan asylum may afford.
This she did rather because the chance came to her,
and it seemed unfit not to seize the proffered plank,
than in hope, for she was not one to double her
stakes, but rather with Cassandra power to discern
early the sure course of the game. And Cassandra
whispered that she was one of those

" Whom men love not, but yet regret,"

And so it proved. Just as in her childish days,
though in a different form, it happened betwixt her
and these companions. She could not be content
to receive them quietly, but was stimulated to throw
herself too much into the tie, into the hour, till she
filled it too full for them. Like Fortunio, who
sought to do homage to his friends by building a fire
of cinnamon, not knowing that its perfume would
be too strong for their endurance, so did Mariana.
What she wanted to tell, they did not wish to hear ;
a little had pleased, so much overpowered, and they
preferred the free air of the street, even, to the cin-
namon perfume of her palace.

However, this did not signify ; had they staid, it
would not have availed her ! It was a nobler road,
a higher aim she needed now ; this did not become
clear to her.

She lost her appetite, she fell sick, had fever.
Sylvain was alarmed, nursed her tenderly ; she grew
better. Then his care ceased, he saw not the mind's

MARIANA. 99

disease, but left her to rise into health and recover the
tone of her spirits, as she might. More solitary than
ever, she tried to raise herself, but she knew not yet
enough. The weight laid upon her young life was
a little too heavy for it. One lung day she passed
alone, and the thoughts and presages came too thick
for her strength. She knew not what to do with
them, relapsed into fever, and died.

Notwithstanding this weakness, I must ever think
of her as a fine sample of womanhood, born to shec
light and life on some palace home. Had she knowi
more of God and the universe, she would not hav«
given way where so many have conquered. Bu
peace be with her; she now, perhaps, has entere<
into a larger freedom, which is knowledge. Wit!
her died a great interest in life to me. Since her .
have never seen a Bandit's Bride. She, indeed,
turned out to be only a merchant's. — Sylvain is
married again to a fair and laughing girl, who will
not die. probably, till their marriage grows a "golden
marriage."

Aunt Z. had with her some papers of Mariana's,
which faintly shadow fortli the thoughts that en-
gaged her in the last days. One of these seems to
have been written when some faint gleam had been
thrown across the path, only to make its darkness
more visible. It seems to have been su_r^< sted
by remembrance of the beautiful ballad, Helen of
Kirconnel Lee, which once she loved to recite, and
in tones that would not have sent a chill to the heart
from which it came.

100 SUMMER ON THE LAKES

" Death
Opens her sweet white arms, and whispers Peace;
Come, say thy sorrows in this bosom ! This
Will never close against thee, and my heart,
Though cold, cannot be colder much than man's."

" I wish I were where Helen lies,"
A lover in the times of old,

Thus vents his grief in lonely sighs,
And hot tears from a bosom cold.

But, mourner for thy martyred love,
Could'st thou but know what hearts must feel,

Where no sweet recollections move,
Whose tears a desert fount reveal.

When " in thy arms burd Helen fell,"
She died, sad man, she died for thee,

Nor' could the films of death dispel
Her loving eye's sweet radiancy.

Thou wert beloved, and she had loved,
Till death alone the whole could tell,

Death every shade of doubt removed,
And steeped the star in its cold well.

On some fond breast the parting soul
Relies, — earth has no more to give ;

Who wholly loves has known the whole,
The wholly loved doth truly live.

But some, sad outcasts from this prize,
Wither down to a lonely grave,

All hearts their hidden love despise,
And leave them to the whelming wave.

MARIANA. 101

They heart to heart have never pressed,
Nor hands in holy pledge have given,

By father's love were ne'er caressed,
Nor in a mother's eye saw heaven.

A fiowerless and fruitless tree,
A dried up stream, a mateless bird,

They live, yet never living be,
They die, their music all unheard.

I wish I were where Helen lies,
For there I could not be alone;

But now, when this dull body dies,
The spirit still will make its moan.

Love passed me by, nor touched my brow ;
Life would not yield one perfect boon ;

And all too late it calls me now,
O all too late, and all too soon.

If thou couldst the dark riddle read
Which leaves this dart within my breast,

Then might I think thou lov'st indeed,
Then were the whole to thee confest.

Father, they will not take me home,
To the poor child no heart is free ;

In sleet and snow all night I roam ;
Father, — was this decreed by thee ?

I will not try another door,
To seek what I have never found ;

Now, till the very last is o'er,
Upon the earth I '11 wander round.

9*

102 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

I will not hear the treacherous call
That bids me stay and rest awhile,

For I have found that, one and all,
They seek me for a prey and spoil.

They are not bad, I know it well ;
I know they know not what they do ;

They are the tools of the dread spell
Which the lost lover must pursue.

In temples sometimes she may rest,
In lonely groves, away from men,

There bend the head, by heats distrest,
Nor be by blows awoke again.

Nature is kind, and God is kind,
And, if she had not had a heart,

Only that great discerning mind,
She might have acted well her part.

But oh this thirst, that none can still,
Save those unfounden waters free ;

The angel of my life should fill
And soothe me to Eternity !

It marks the defect in the position of woman that
one like Mariana should have found reason to write
thus. To a man of equal power, equal sincerity, no
morel — many resources would have presented them-
selves. He would not have needed to seek, he would
have been called by life, and not permitted to be
quite wrecked through the affections only. But such
women as Mariana are often lost, unless they meet
some man of sufficiently great soul to prize them.

PHILIP VAN ARTEVELDE. 103

Van Artevelde's Elena, though in her individual
nature unlike my Mariana, is like her in a mind
whose large impulses are disproportioned to the per-
sons and occasions she meets, and which carry her
beyond those reserves which mark the appointed lot
of woman. But, when she met Van Artevelde, he was
too great not to revere her rare nature, without re-
gard to the stains and errors of its past history ; great
enough to receive her entirely and make a new life
for her ; man enough to be a lover ! But as such
men come not so often as once an age, their presence
should not be absolutely needed to sustain life.

At Chicago I read again Philip Van Artevelde,
and certain passages in it will always be in my mind
associated with the deep sound of the lake, as heard
in the night. I used to read a short time at night,
and then open the blind to look out. The moon
would be full upon the lake, and the calm breath,
pure light, and the deep voice harmonized well with
the thought of the Flemish hero. When will this
country have such a man ? It is what she needs ; no
thin Idealist, no coarse Realist, but a man whose eye
reads the heavens while his feet step firmly on the
ground, and his hands are strong and dexterous for
the use of human implements. A man religious, virtu-
ous and — sagacious ; a man of universal sympathies,
but self-possessed ; a man who knows the region of
emotion, though he is not its slave ; a man to whom this
world is no mere spectacle, or fleeting shadow, but a
great solemn game to be played with good heed, for
its stakes are of eternal value, yet who, if his own
play be true, heeds not what he loses by the falsehood

104 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

of others. A man who hives from the past, yet
knows that its honey can but moderately avail him ;
whose comprehensive eye scans the present, neither
infatuated by its golden lures, nor chilled by its many
ventures ; who possesses prescience, as the wise man
must, but not so far as to be driven mad to-day by
the gift which discerns to-morrow. When there is
such a man for America, the thought which urges her
on will be expressed.

Now that I am about to leave Illinois, feelings of
regret and admiration come over me, as in parting
with a friend whom we have not had the good sense
to prize and study, while hours of association, never
perhaps to return, were granted. I have fixed my
attention almost exclusively on the picturesque beauty
of this region ; it was so new, so inspiring. But I
ought to have been more interested in the housekeep-
ing of this magnificent state, in the education she is
giving her children, in their prospects.

Illinois is, at present, a by-word of reproach among
the nations, for the careless, prodigal course, by which,
in early youth, she has endangered her honor. But
you cannot look about you there, without seeing that
there are resources abundant to retrieve, and soon to
retrieve, far greater errors, if they are only directed
with wisdom.

Might the simple maxim, that honesty is the best
policy be laid to heart! Might a sense of the true
aims of life elevate the tone of politics and trade, till
public and private honor become identical ! Might
the western man in that crowded and exciting life
which develops his faculties so fully for to-day, not

MORRIS BIRKBECK. 1 03

forget that better part which could not be taken from
him ! Might the western woman take that interest
and acquire that light for the education of the child-
ren, for which she alone has leisure !

This is indeed the great problem of the place and
time. If the next generation be well prepared for
their work, ambitious of good and skilful to achieve
it, the children of the present settlers may be leaven
enough for the mass constantly increasing by emigra-
tion. And how much is this needed where those
rude foreigners can so little understand the best in-
terests of the land they seek for bread and shelter.
It would be a happiness to aid in this good work, and
interweave the white and golden threads into the
fate of Illinois. It would be a work worthy the de-
votion of any mind.

In the little that I saw, was a large proportion of
intelligence, activity, and kind feeling ; but, if there
was much serious laying to heart of the true pur-
poses of life, it did not appear in the tone of conver-
sation.

Having before me the Illinois guide-book, I find
there mentioned, as a " visionary," one of the men
I should think of as able to be a truly valuable set-
tler in a new and great country — Morris Birkbeck,
of England. Since my return, I have read his jour-
ney to, and letters from, Illinois. I see nothing pro-
mised there that will not surely belong to the man
who knows how to seek for it.

Mr. Birkbeck was an enlightened philanthropist,
the rather that he did not wish to sacrifice himself to
his fellow men, but to benefit them with all he had,

106 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

and was, and wished. He thought all the creatures
of a divine love ought to be happy and ought to be
good, and that his own soul and his own life were
not less precious than those of others ; indeed, that
to keep these healthy, was his only means of a healthy
influence.

But his aims were altogether generous. Freedom,
the liberty of law, not license ; not indolence, work
for himself and children and all men, but under ge-
nial and poetic influences ; — these were his aims.
How different from those of the new settlers in gen-
eral ! And into his mind so long ago shone steadily
the two thoughts, now so prevalent in thinking and
aspiring minds, of " Resist not evil," and " Every
man his own priest, and the heart the only true
church."

He has lost credit for sagacity from accidental cir-
cumstances. It does not appear that his position was
ill chosen, or his means disproportioned to his ends,
had he been sustained by funds from England, as he
had a right to expect. But through the profligacy of
a near relative, commissioned to collect these dues,
he was disappointed of them, and his paper protested
and credit destroyed in our cities, before he became
aware of his danger.

Still, though more slowly and with more difficulty,
he might have succeeded in his designs. The Eng-
lish farmer might have made the English settlement
a model for good methods and good aims to all that
region, had not death prematurely cut short his plans.

I have wished to say these few words, because the
veneration with which I have been inspired for his

MORRIS BIRKBECK. 107

character by those who knew him well, makes me
impatient of this careless blame being passed from
mouth to mouth and book to book. Success is no
test of a man's endeavor, and Illinois will yet, I hope,
regard this man, who knew so well what ought to be,
as one of her true patriarchs, the Abraham of a pro-
mised land.

He was one too much before his time to be soon
valued ; but the time is growing up to him, and will
understand his mild philanthropy and clear, lai:
views.

I subjoin the account of his death, given me by a
friend, as expressing, in fair picture, the character of
the man.

" Mr. Birkbeck was returning from the scat of
government, whither he had been on public business,
and was accompanied by his son Bradford, a youth
of sixteen or eighteen. It was necessary to cross a
ford, which was rendered difficult by the swelling of
the stream. Mr. B.'s horse was unwilling to plunge
into the water, so his son offered to go first, and he
followed. Bradford's horse had just gained footing
on the opposite shore, when he looked back and per-
ceived his father was dismounted, struggling in the
water, and carried down by the current.

" Mr. Birkbeck could not swim ; Bradford could ;
so he dismounted, and plunged into the stream to
save his father. lie got to him before he sank, held
him up above water, and told him to take hold of Ins
collar, and he would swim ashore with him. Mr. B.
did so, and Bradford exerted all his strength to stem
the current and reach the shore at a point where they

108 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

could land ; but, encumbered by his own clothing
and his father's weight, he made no progress ; and
when Mr. B. perceived this, he, with his characteris-
tic calmness and resolution, gave up his hold of his
son, and, motioning to him to save himself, resigned
himself to his fate. His son reached the shore, but
was too much overwhelmed bv his loss to leave it.
He was found by some travellers, many hours after,
seated on the margin of the stream, with his head in
his hands, stupefied with grief.

" The body was found, and on the countenance
was the sweetest smile; and Bradford said, cjust so
he smiled upon me when he let go and pushed me
away from him.' "

Many men can choose the right and best on a great
occasion, but not many can, with such ready and se-
rene decision, lay aside even life, when it is right and
best. This little narrative touched my imagination
in very early youth, and often has come up, in lonely
vision, that face, serenely smiling above the current
which bore him away to another realm of being.

CHAPTER V.

WISCONSIN.

A territory, not yet a state ; still, nearer the acorn
than we were.

It was very pleasant coming up. These large and
elegant boats are so well arranged that every excur-
sion may be a party of pleasure. There are many
fair shows to see on the lake and its shores, almost
always new and agreeable persons on board, pretty
children playing about, ladies singing, (and if not
very well, there is room to keep out of the way.)
You may see a great deal here of Life, in the Lon-
don sense, if you know a few people ; or if you do
not, and have the tact to look about you without
seeming to stare.

We came to Milwaukie, where we were to pass a
fortnight or more.

This place is most beautifully situated. A little
river, with romantic banks, passes up through the
town. The bank of the lake is here a bold bluff,
eighty feet in height. From its summit, you enjoyed
a noble outlook on the lake. A little narrow path

10

110 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

wound along the edge of the lake below. I liked
this walk much. Above me this high wall of rich
earth, garlanded on its crest with trees, the long ripples
of the lake coming up to my feet. Here, standing
in the shadow, I could appreciate better its magnifi-
cent changes of color, which are the chief beauties
of the lake-waters ; but these are indescribable.

It was fine to ascend into the lighthouse, above
this bluff, and watch from thence the thunder-clouds
which so frequently rose over the lake, or the great
boats coming in. Approaching the Milwaukie pier,
they made a bend, and seemed to do obeisance in
the heavy style of some dowager duchess entering a
circle she wishes to treat with especial respect.

These boats come in and out every day, and still
afford a cause for general excitement. The people
swarm down to greet them, to receive and send away
their packages and letters. To me they seemed such
mighty messengers, to give, by their noble motion, such
an idea of the power and fullness of life, that they
were worthy to carry despatches from king to king.
It must be very pleasant for those who have an active
share in carrying on the affairs of this great and
growing world to see them come in. It must be
very pleasant to those who have dearly loved friends
at the next station. To those who have neither busi-
ness nor friends, it sometimes gives a desolating sense
of insignificance.

The town promises to be, some time, a fine one, as
it is so well situated ; and they have good building
material — a yellow brick, very pleasing to the eye.
It seems to grow before you, and has indeed but just

TITIAN S VENUS AND ADONIS. Ill

emerged from the thickets of oak and wild roses. A
few steps will take you into the thickets, and certainly
I never saw so many wild roses, or of so beautiful a
red. Of such a color were the first red ones the
world ever saw, when, says the legend, Venus flying
to the assistance of Adonis, the rosebushes kept
catching her to make her stay, and the drops of blood
the thorns drew from her feet, as she tore herself
away, fell on the white roses, and turned them this
beautiful red.

I will here insert, though with no excuse, except
that it came to memory at the time, this description of
Titian's Venus and Adonis.

" This picture has that perfect balance of lines and
forms that it would, (as was said of all Raphael's)
' seen at any distance have the air of an ornamental
design.' It also tells its story at the first glance,
though, like all beautiful works, it gains by study.

" On one side slumbers the little God of Love,
as an emblem, I suppose, that only the love of man
is worth embodying, for surely Cytherea's is awake
enough. The quiver of Cupid, suspended to a tree,
gives sportive grace to the scene which softens the
tragedy of a breaking tie. The dogs of Adonis pull
upon his hand ; he can scarce forbear to burst from
the detaining arms of Beauty herself, yet he waits a
moment to coax her — to make an unmeaning pro-
mise. c A moment, a moment, my love, and 1 will
return ; a moment only.' Adonis is not beautiful,
except in his expression of eager youth. The Queen
of Beauty does not choose Apollo. Venus herself is
very beautiful ; especially the body is lovely as can

112 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

be ; and the soft, imploring look, gives a conjugal del-
icacy to the face which purifies the whole picture.
This Venus is not as fresh, as moving and breathing
as Shakspeare's, yet lovelier to the mind if not to
the sense. 'T is difficult to look at this picture with-
out indignation, because it is, in one respect, so true.
Why must women always try to detain and restrain
what they love ? Foolish beauty ; let him go ; it is
thy tenderness that has spoiled him. Be less love-
ly — less feminine ; abandon thy fancy for giving thy-
self wholly ; cease to love so well, and any Hercules
will spin among thy maids, if thou wilt. But let him
go this time ; thou canst not keep him. Sit there, by
thyself, on that bank, and, instead of thinking how
soon he will come back, think how thou may'st love
him no better than he does thee, for the time has
come."

It was soon after this moment that the poor Queen,
hearing the frightened hounds, apprehended the rash
huntsman's danger, and, flying through the woods,
gave their hue to the red roses.

To return from the Grecian isles to Milwaukie.
One day, walking along the river's bank in search of
a waterfall to be seen from one ravine, we heard
tones from a band of music, and saw a gay troop
shooting at a mark, on the opposite bank. Between
every shot the band played ; the effect was very
pretty.

On this walk we found two of the oldest and most
gnarled hemlocks that ever afforded study for a
painter. They were the only ones we saw ; they
seemed the veterans of a former race.

MILWAUKEE. 113

At Milwaukie, as at Chicago, are many pleasant
people, drawn together from all parts of the world.
A resident here would find great piquancy in the as-
sociations,— those he met having such dissimilar
histories and topics. And several persons I saw evi-
dently transplanted from the most refined circles to
be met in this country. There are lures enough in
the West for people of all kinds ; — the enthusiast
and the cunning man ; the naturalist, and the lover
who needs to be rich for the sake of her he loves.

The torrent of emigration swells very strongly
towards this place. During the fine weather, the
poor refugees arrive daily, in their national dresses,
all travel-soiled and worn. The night they pass in
rude shantees, in a particular quarter of the town,
then walk off into the country — the mothers carry-
ing their infants, the fathers leading the little child-
ren by the hand, seeking a home where their hands
may maintain them.

One morning we set off in their track, and trav-
elled a day's journey into this country, — fair, yet not,
in that part which I saw, comparable, in my eyes, to
the Rock River region. It alternates rich fields,
proper for grain, with oak openings, as they are
called ; bold, various and beautiful were the features
of the scene, but I saw not those majestic sweeps,
those boundless distances, those heavenly fields ; it
was not the same world.

Neither did we travel in the same delightful man-
ner. We were now in a nice carriage, which must
not go oft' the road, for fear of breakage, with a regu-
lar coachman, whose chief care was not to tire his
10*

114 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

horses, and who had no taste for entering fields in
pursuit of wild flowers, or tempting some strange
wood path in search of whatever might befall. It
was pleasant, but almost as tame as New England.

But charming indeed was the place where we
stopped. It was in the vicinity of a chain of lakes,
and on the bank of the loveliest little stream, called
the Bark river, which flowed in rapid amber bright-
ness, through fields, and dells, and stately knolls, of
most idylic beauty.

The little log cabin where we slept, with its flower
garden in front, disturbed the scene no more than a
stray lock on the fair cheek. The hospitality of that
house I may well call princely ; it was the boundless
hospitality of the heart, which, if it has no Aladdin's
lamp to create a palace for the guest, does him still
higher service by the freedom of its bounty up to the
very last drop of its powers.

Sweet were the sunsets seen in the valley of this
stream, though here, and, I grieve to say, no less near
the Rock River, the fiend, who has ever liberty to
tempt the happy in this world, appeared in the shape
of mosquitoes, and allowed us no bodily to enjoy our
mental peace.

One day we ladies gave, under the guidance of our
host, to visiting all the beauties of the adjacent lakes —
Nomabbin, Silver, and Pine Lakes. On the shore of
Nomabbin had formerly been one of the finest In-
dian villages. Our host said that, one day, as he was
lying there beneath the bank, he saw a tall Indian
standing at gaze on the knoll. He lay a long time,
curious to see how long the figure would maintain its

INDIAN ANECDOTE. 115

statne-like absorption. But, at last, his patience
yielded, and, in moving, he made a slight noise. The
Indian saw him, gave a wild, snorting sound of in-
dignation and pain, and strode away.

What feelings must consume their heart at such
moments ! I scarcely see how they can -forbear to
shoot the white man where he stands.

But the power of fate is with the white man, and
the Indian feels it. This same gentleman told of his
travelling through the wilderness with an Indian
guide. He had with him a bottle of spirit which he
meant to give him in small quantities, but the Indian,
once excited, wanted the whole at once. I would

not, said Mr. , give it him, for I thought if he

got really drunk, there was an end to his services as
a guide. But he persisted, and at last tried to take
it from me. I was not armed ; he was, and twice as
strong as I. But I knew an Indian could not resist
the look of a white man, and I fixed my eye steadily
on his. He bore it for a moment, then his eye fell ;
he let go the bottle. I took his gun and threw it to
a distance. After a few moments' pause, I told him
to go and fetch it, and left it in his hands. From
that moment he was quite obedient, even servile, all
the rest of the way.

This gentleman, though in other respects of most
kindly and liberal heart, showed the aversion that the
white man soon learns to feel for the Indian on whom
he encroaches, the aversion of the injure! for him he
has degraded. After telling the anecdote of his see-
ing the Indian gazing at the seat of his former home,

" A thing for human feelings the most trying,"

116 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

and which, one would think, would have awakened
soft compassion — almost remorse — in the present
owner of that fair hill, which contained for the exile
the bones of his dead, the ashes of his hopes, — he
observed, " They cannot be prevented from strag-
gling back here to their old haunts. I wish they
could. They ought not to permitted to drive away
our game." Our game — just heavens !

The same gentleman showed, on a slight occasion,
the true spirit of the sportsman, or, perhaps I might
say of Man, when engaged in any kind of chase.
Showing us some antlers, he said, " This one be-
longed to a majestic creature. But this other was
the beauty. I had been lying a long time at watch,
when at last I heard them come crackling along. I
lifted my head cautiously, as they burst through the
trees. The first was a magnificent fellow ; but then
I saw coming one, the prettiest, the most graceful I
ever beheld — there was something so soft and be-
seeching in its look. I chose him at once ; took aim,
and shot him dead. You see the antlers are not very
large ; it was young, but the prettiest creature ! " .

In the course of this morning's drive, we visited
the gentlemen on their fishing party. They hailed
us gaily, and rowed ashore to show us what fine
booty they had. No disappointment there, no dull
work. On the beautiful point of land from which
we first saw them, lived a contented woman, the only
one I heard of out there. She was English, and
said she had seen so much suffering in her own coun-
try that the hardships of this seemed as nothing to her.
But the others — even our sweet and gentle hos-

WOODS. 117

tcss — found their labors disproportioned to their
strength, if not to their patience ; and, while their
husbands and brothers enjoyed the country in hunt-
ing or fishing, they found themselves confined to a
comfortless and laborious indoor life. But it need
not be so long.

This afternoon, driving about on the banks of these
lakes, we found the scene all of one kind of loveli-
ness ; wide, graceful woods, and then these fine sheets
of water, with fine points of land jutting out boldly
into them. It was lovely, but not striking or pecu-
liar.

All woods suggest pictures. The European forest,
with its long glades and green sunny dells, naturally
suggested the figures of armed knight on his proud
steed, or maiden, decked in gold and pearl, pricking
along them on a snow white palfrey. The green dells,
of weary Palmer sleeping there beside the spring with
his head upon his wallet. Our minds, familiar with
such figures, people with them the New England
woods, wherever the sunlight falls down a longer
than usual cart-track, wherever a cleared spot has
lain still enough for the trees to look friendly, with
their exposed sides cultivated by the light, and the
grass to look velvet warm, and be embroidered with
flowers. These western woods suggest a different kind
of ballad. The Indian legends have, often, an air of
the wildest solitude, as has the one Mr. Lowell has
put into verse, in his late volume. But I did not sec
those wild woods ; only such as suggest little roman-
ces of love and sorrow, like this :

118 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

A maiden sat beneath the tree,
Tear-bedewed her pale cheeks be,
And she sigheth heavily.

From forth the wood into the light,
A hunter strides with carol light,
And a glance so bold and bright.

He careless stopped and eyed the maid ;
" Why weepest thou ? " he gently said,
" I love thee well ; be not afraid."

He takes her hand, and leads her on ;
She should have waited there alone,
For he was not her chosen one.

He leans her head upon his breast,
She knew 't was not her home of rest,
But ah ! she had been sore distrest.

The sacred stars looked sadly down ;
The parting moon appeared to frown,
To see thus dimmed the diamond crown.

Then from the thicket starts a deer,
The huntsman, seizing on his spear,
Cries, " Maiden, wait thou for me here."

She sees him vanish into night,

She starts from sleep in deep affright,

For it was not her own true knight.

Though but in dream Gunhilda failed ;
Though but a fancied ill assailed,
Though she but fancied fault bewailed.

INDIAN ENCAMPMENT. 119

Yet thought of day makes dream of night :
She is not worthy of the knight,
The inmost altar burns not bright.

If loneliness thou canst not bear,
Cannot the dragon's venom dare,
Of the pure meed thou shouldst despair.

Now sadder that lone maiden sighs,
Far bitterer tears profane her eyes,
Crushed in the dust her heart's flower lies.

On the bank of Silver Lake we saw an Indian en-
campment. A shower threatened us, but we resolved
to try if we could not visit it before it came on.
We crossed a wide field on foot, and found them
amid the trees on a shelving bank ; just as we reached
them the rain began to fall in torrents, with frequent
thunder claps, and we had to take refuge in their
lodges. These were very small, being for temporary
use, and we crowded the occupants much, among
whom were several sick, on the damp ground, or
with only a ragged mat between them and it. But
they showed all the gentle courtesy which marks them
towards the stranger, who stands in any need ; though
it was .obvious that the visit, which inconvenienced
them, could only have been caused by the most im-
pertinent curiosity, they made us as comfortable as
their extreme poverty permitted. They seemed to
think we would not like to touch them : a sick girl
in the lodge where I was, persisted in moving so as to
give me the dry place ; a woman with the sweet
melancholy eye of the race, kept ofT the children and
wet dogs from even the hem of my garment.

120 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

Without, their fires smouldered, and black kettles,
hung over them on sticks, smoked and seethed in the
rain. An old theatrical looking Indian stood with
arms folded, looking up to the heavens, from which
the rain dashed and the thunder reverberated ; his
air was French-Roman, that is, more romanesque than
Pvoman. The Indian ponies, much excited, kept career-
ing through the wood, around the encampment, and
now and then halting suddenly, would thrust in their
intelligent, though amazed, phizzes, as if to ask their
masters when this awful pother would cease, and then,
after a moment, rush and trample off again.

At last wej^ot off, well wetted, but with a pictur-
esque scene for memory. At a house where we
stopped to get dry, they told us that this wandering
band (of Pottawattamies,) who had returned on a
visit, either from homesickness, or need of relief,
were extremely destitute. The women had been
there to see if they could barter their head bands
with which they club their hair behind into a form
not unlike a Grecian knot, for food. They seemed,
indeed, to have neither food, utensils, clothes, nor
bedding ; nothing but the ground, the sky, and their
own strength. Little wonder if they drove off the
game !

Part of the same band I had seen in Milwaukie, on
a begging dance. The effect of this was wild and
grotesque. They wore much paint and feather
head-dresses. " Indians without paint are poor
coots," said a gentleman who had been a great deal
with, and really liked, them ; and I like the effect of
the paint on them ; it reminds of the gay fantasies

MILWAUKIE. 121

of nature. With them in MUwaukie, was a chief, the
finest Indian figure I saw. more than six feet in height,
erect, and of a sullen, but grand gait and gesture.
He wore a deep red blanket, which fell in large folds
from his shoulders to his feet, did not join in the
dance, but slowly strode about through the sheets,
a fine sight, not a French-Roman, but a real Roman,
lie looked unhappy, but listlessly unhappy, as if lie
felt it was of no use to strive or resist.

While in the neighborhood of these lakes, we visit-
ed also a foreign settlement of great interest. Here
were minds, it seemed, to "comprehend the trusts,"
of their new life ; and if they can only stand true to
them, will derive and bestow great benefits therefrom.

But sad and sickening: to the enthusiast who comes
to these shores, hoping the tranquil enjoyment of in-
tellectual blessings, and the pure happiness of mutual
love, must be a part of the scene that he encounters at
first. lie has escaped from the heartlessncss of
courts, to encounter the vulgarity of a mob; he has
secured solitude, but it is a lonely, a deserted solitude.
Amid the abundance of nature he cannot, from petty,
but insuperable obstacles, procure, for a long time,
comforts, or a home.

But let him come sufficiently armed with patience
to learn the new spells which the new dragons re-
quire, (and this can only be done on the spot,) he
will not finally be disappointed of the promised tieas-
urc ; the mob will resolve itself into men, yet crude,
but of good dispositions, and capable of good charac-
ter ; the solitude will become sulficiently enlivened
and home grow up at last from the rich sod.
11

122 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

In this transition state we found one of these
homes. As we approached it seemed the very Eden
which earth might still afford to a pair willing to
give up the hackneyed pleasures of the world, for a
better and more intimate communion with one another
and with beauty : the wild road led through wide
beautiful woods, to the wilder and more beautiful
shores of the finest lake we saw. On its waters,
glittering in the morning sun, a few Indians were
paddling to and fro in their light canoes. On one of
those fair knolls I have so often mentioned, stood the
cottage, beneath trees which stooped as if they yet
felt brotherhood with its roof tree. Flowers waved,
birds fluttered round, all had the sweetness of a
happy seclusion ; all invited on entrance to cry,
All hail ye happy ones ! to those who inhabited it.

But on entrance to those evidently rich in personal
beauty, talents, love, and courage, the aspect of
things was rather sad. Sickness had been with them,
death, care, and labor ; these had not yet blighted
them, but had turned their gay smiles grave. It
seemed that hope and joy had given place to reso-
lution. How much, too, was there in them, worthless
in this place, which would have been so valuable else-
where. Refined graces, cultivated powers, shine in
vain before field laborers, as laborers are in this pre-
sent world ; you might as well cultivate heliotropes
to present to an ox. Oxen and heliotropes are both
good, but not for one another.

With them were some of the old means of enjoy-
ment, the books, the pencil, the guitar ; but where the
wash-tub and the axe are so constantly in requisition,

THE COTTAGE. 123

there is not much time and pliancy of hand for
these.

In the inner room the master of the house was
seated ; he had been sitting there long, for he had
injured his foot on ship-board, and his farming had to
be done by proxy. His beautiful young wife was his
onlv attendant and nurse, as well as a farm house-
keeper ; how well she performed hard and unac-
customed duties, the objects of her care shewed ;
everything that belonged to the house was rude but
neatly arranged ; the invalid, confined to an uneasy
wooilen chair, (they had not been able to induce any
one to bring them an easy chair from the town,) look-
ed as neat and elegant as if he had been dressed by
the valet of a duke. He was of northern blood, with
clear full blue eyes, calm features, a tempering of the
soldier, scholar, and man of the world, in his aspect ;
whether that various intercourses had given himself
that thorough-bred look never seen in Americans, or
that it was inherited from a race who had known all
these disciplines. He formed a great but pleasing
contrast to his wife, whose glowing complexion and
dark mellow eye bespoke an origin in some climate
more familiar with the sun. He looked as if he could
sit there a great while patiently, and live on his own
mind, biding his time ; she, as if she could bear any-
thing for affection's sake, but would feel the weight
of each moment as it passed.

Seeing the album full of drawings and verses
which bespoke the circle of elegant and atlectionate
intercourse they had left behind, we could not but see
that the young wife sometimes must need a sister, the

124 SUMxMER ON THE LAKES.

husband a companion, and both must often miss that
electricity which sparkles from the chain of congenial
minds.

For man, a position is desirable in some degree
proportioned to his education. Mr. Birkbeck was
bred a farmer, but these were nurslings of the court
and city ; they may persevere, for an affectionate
courage shone in their eyes, and, if so, become true
lords of the soil, and informing geniuses to those
around ; then, perhaps, they will feel that they have
not paid too dear for the tormented independence of
the new settler's life. But, generally, damask roses
will not thrive in the wood, and a ruder growth, if
healthy and pure, we wish rather to see there.

I feel very differently about these foreigners from
Americans ; American men and women are inexcusable
if they do not bring up children so as to be fit for vicissi-
tudes ; that is the meaning of our star, that here all men
being free and equal, all should be fitted for freedom
and an independence by his own resources wherever
the changeful wave of our mighty stream may take
him. But the star of Europe brought a different
horoscope, and to mix destinies breaks the thread of
both. The Arabian horse will not plough well, nor
can the plough-horse be rode to play the jereed. But
a man is a man wherever he goes, and something
precious cannot fail to be gained by one who knows
how to abide by a resolution of any kind, and pay
the cost without a murmur.

Returning, the fine carriage at last fulfilled its
threat of breaking down. We took refuge in a farm
house. Here was a pleasant scene. A rich and

THE SEERESS OF PREVORST. 125

beautiful estate, several happy families, who had re-
moved together, and formed a natural community,
ready to help and enliven one another. They were
farmers at home, in western New York, and both
men and women knew how to work. Yet even here
the women did not like the change, but they were
willing, "as it might be best for the young folks.**
Their hospitality was great, the housefull of women
and pretty children seemed all of one mind.

Returning to Milwaukie much fatigued, I enter-
tained myself for a day or two with reading. The
book I had brought with me was in strong contrast
with the life around me. Very strange was this
vision of an exalted and sensitive existence, which
seemed to invade the next sphere, in contract with
the spontaneous, instinctive life, so healthy and so
near the ground I had been surveying. This was
the ( ici man book entitled :

Die Scherin von Prevorst. — Eroilnungcn fiber das
innerc Leben des Menschen und iibcr das hereinragen
eincr Geisterwelt in die unsere. Mitgetheilt von Jus-
tinus Kerner.

The Sceress of Prevorst. — Revelations concerning
the inward life of man, and the projection of a world
of spirits into oursj communicated by Jnstinus Kerner",

This book, published in Germany some twelve years
since, and which called forth then- plenteous dews of
admiration, as plenteous hail-storms of jeers and scorns.
I never saw mentioned till some year or two since, in
any English publication. Then a playful, but not
sarcastic account of it, in the Dublin Magazine, so far
excited my curiosity that I procured the book intend*
11*

126 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

insr to read it so soon as I should have some leisure
days, such as this journey has afforded.

Dr. Kerner, its author, is a man of distinction in
his native land, both as a physician and a thinker,
though always on the side of reverence, marvel, and
mysticism. He was known to me only through two
or three little poems of his in Catholic legends, which
I much admired for the fine sense they showed of the
beauty of symbols.

He here gives a biography, mental and physical, of
one of the most remarkable cases of high nervous ex-
citement that the age, so interested in such, yet
affords, with all its phenomena of clairvoyance and
susceptibility of magnetic influences. I insert some
account of this biography at the request of many who
have been interested by slight references to it. The
book, a thick and heavy volume, written with true
German patience, some would say clumsiness, has
not, probably, and may not be translated into other
languages. As to my own mental position on these
subjects it may be briefly expressed by a dialogue be-
tween several persons who honor me with a portion
of friendly confidence and of criticism, and myself
expressed as Free Hope. The others may be styled
Old Church, Good Sense, and Self-Poise.

Good Sense. I wonder you can take any interest in
such observations or experiments. Don't you see how
almost impossible it is to make them with any exact-
ness, how entirely impossible to know anything about
them unless made by yourself, when the least leaven
of credulity, excited fancy, to say nothing of willing

FREE HOPE. 127

or careless imposture, spoils the whole loaf. Beside,
allowing the possibility of some clear glimpses into a
higher state of being, what do we want of it now?
All around us lies what we neither understand nor
use. Our capacities, our instincts for this our present
sphere are but half developed. Let us confine our-
selves to that till the lesson be learned ; let us be com-
pletely natural, before we trouble ourselves with the
supernatural. I never see any of these things but I
long to get away and lie under a green tree and let
the wind blow on me. There is marvel and charm
enough in that for me.

Free Hope. And for me also. Nothing is truer
than the Wordsworthian creed, on which Carlyle lays
such stress, that we need only look on the miracle of
every day, to sate ourselves with thought and admira-
tion every day. But how are our faculties sharpened
to do it? Precisely by apprehending the infinite re-
sults of every day.

Who sees the meaning of the flower uprooted in
the ploughed field ? The ploughman who does not
look beyond its boundaries and does not raise his
eyes from the ground: No — but the poet who

s that field in its relations with the universe, and
looks oftcner to the sky than on the ground. Only
the dreamer shall understand realities, though, in
truth, his dreaming must not be out of proportion
to his waking !

The mind, roused powerfully by this cxistcm
stretches of itself into what the French sage calls the
" aromal state." From the hope thus gleaned ii forms
the hypothesis, under whose banner it collects its facts.

128 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

Long before these slight attempts were made to
establish as a science what is at present called animal
magnetism, always, in fact men were occupied more
or less with this vital principle, principle of flux and
influx, dynamic of our mental mechanics, human
phase of electricity. Poetic observation was pure,
there was no quackery in its free course, as there is
so often in this wilful tampering with the hidden
springs of life, for it is tampering unless done in a
patient spirit and with severe truth ; yet it may be, by
the rude or greedy miners, some good ore is unearthed.
And some there are who work in the true temper,
patient and accurate in trial, not rushing to conclu-
sions, feeling there is a mystery, not eager to call it
by name, till they can know it as a reality : such may
learn, such may teach.

Subject to the sudden revelations, the breaks in
habitual existence caused by the aspect of death, the
touch of love, the flood of music, I never lived, that
I remember, what you call a common natuial day.
All my days are touched by the supernatural, for I
feel the pressure of hidden causes, and the presence,
sometimes the communion, of unseen powers. It
needs not that I should ask the clairvoyant whether
" a spirit-world projects into ours." As to the spe-
cific evidence, I would not tarnish my mind by hasty
reception. ' The mind is not, I know, a highway,
but a temple, and its doors should not be care-
lessly left open. Yet it were sin, if indolence
or coldness excluded what had a claim to enter ;
and I doubt whether, in the eyes of pure intelli-
gence, an ill-grounded hasty rejection be not a

OLD CHUKCH. 129

greater sign of weakness than an ill-grounded and
hasty faith

I will quote, as my best plea, the saying of a man
old in years, but not in heart, and whose long life has
been distinguished by that clear adaptation of means to
ends which gives the credit of practical wisdom, lie
wrote to his child, " I have lived too long, and seen too
much to be incredulous." Noble the thought, no
less so its frank expression, instead of saws of cau-
tion, mean advices, and other modern instances.
Such was the romance of Socrates when he bade his
disciples " sacrifice a cock to yEsculapius."

Old Church. You are always so quick-witted and
voluble, Free Hope, you don't get time to see how
often you err, and even, perhaps, sin and blaspheme.
The Author of all has intended to confine our knowl-
edge within certain boundaries, has given us a short
span of time for a certain probation, for which our
faculties are adapted. By wild speculation and in-
temperate curiosity we violate his will and incur dan-

rous, perhaps fatal, consequences. We waste our
powers, and. becoming morbid and visionary, are un-
fitted to obey positive precepts, and perform positive
duties.

Free Hope. I do not see how it is possible to go
further beyond the results of a limited human expe-
rience than those do who pretend to settle the origin
and nature of sin, the final destiny of souls, and the
whole* plan of the causal spirit with regard to them.
I think those who take your view, have not examined
themselves, and do not know the ground on which
they stand.

130 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

I acknowledge no limit, set up by man's opinion,
as to the capacities of man! " Care is taken," I see
it, " that the trees grow not up into heaven," but, to
me it seems, the more vigorously they aspire the bet-
ter. Only let it be a vigorous, not a partial or sickly
aspiration. Let not the tree forget its root.

So long as the child insists on knowing where its
dead parent is, so long as bright eyes weep at myste-
rious pressures, too heavy for the life, so long as that
impulse is constantly arising which made the Roman
emperor address his soul in a strain of such touching
softness, vanishing from the thought, as the column of
smoke from the eye, I know of no inquiry which the
impulse of man suggests that is forbidden to the res-
olution of man to pursue. In every inquiry, unless
sustained by a pure and reverent spirit, he gropes in
the dark, or falls headlong.

Self-Poise. All this may be very true, but what
is the use of all this straining? Far-sought is dear-
bought. When we know that all is in each, and that
the ordinary contains the extraordinary, why should
we play the baby, and insist upon having the moon
for a toy when a tin dish will do as well. Our deep
ignorance is a chasm that we can only fill up by de-
grees, but the commonest rubbish will help us as
well as shred silk. The God Brahma, while on
earth, was set to fill up a valley, but he had only a
basket given him in which to fetch earth for this pur-
pose ; so is it with us all. No leaps, no starts will
avail us, by patient crystallization alone the equal
temper of wisdom is attainable. Sit at home and the
spirit-world will look in at your window with moonlit

SELF-POISE. J 31

eyes : runout to find it, and rainbow and -olden cup
will have vanished and left you the beggarly child vou
were. The better part of wisdom is a sublime pru-
dence, a pure and patient truth that will receive no-
thing it is not sure it can permanently lay to heart.
Of our study there should be in proportion two-thirds
of rejection to one of acceptance. And, amid the
manifold infatuations and illusions of this world of
emotion, a being capable of clear intelligence can do
no better service than to hold himself upright, avoid
nonsense, and do what chores lie in his way, acknowl-
edging every moment that primal truth, which no fact
exhibits, nor, if pressed by too warm a hope, will even
indicate. I think, indeed, it is part of our lesson to
give a formal consent to what is farcical, and to pick
up our living and our virtue amid what is so ridicu-
lous, hardly deigning a smile, and certainly not vexed.
The work is done through all, if not by every one.

Free Hope. Thou art greatly wise, my friend, and
ever respected by me, yet I find not in your theory
or your scope, room enough for the lyric inspirations,
or the mysterious whispers of life. To me it seems
that it is madder never to abandon oneself, than often
to be infatuated ; better to be wounded, a captive, and
a slave, than always to walk in armor. A< to mag-
netism, that is only a matter of fancy. ^ OU ><»me-
times need just such a field in which to wander va-
grant, and if it bear a higher name, yet it may be
that, in last result, the trance of Pythagoras might
be classed with the more infantine transports of the
Seeress of Prevorst.

What is done interests me more than what is

132 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

thought and supposed. Every fact is impure, but
every fact contains in it the juices of life. Every
fact is a clod, from which may grow an amaranth or
a palm.

Do you climb the snowy peaks from whence come
the streams, where the atmosphere is rare, where you
can see the sky nearer, from which you can get a
commanding view of the landscape. I see great dis-
advantages as well as advantages in this dignified po-
sition. I had rather walk myself through all kinds of
places, even at the risk of being robbed in the forest,
half drowned at the ford, and covered with dust in
the street.

I would beat with the living heart of the world,
and understand all the moods, even the fancies or
fantasies, of nature. I dare to trust to the interpret-
ing spirit to bring me out all right at last — to estab-
lish truth through error.

Whether this be the best way is of no consequence,
if it be the one individual character points out.

For one, like me, it would be vain

From glittering heights the eyes to strain ;

I the truth can only know,

Tested hy life's most fiery glow.

Seeds of thought will never thrive

Till dews of love shall bid them live.

Let me stand in my age with all its waters flowing
round me. If they sometimes subdue, they must
finally upbear me, for I seek the universal — and that
must be the best.

The Spirit, no doubt, leads in every movement of
my time : if I seek the How, I shall find it, as well
as if I busied myself more with the Why.

THE SEERESS OF PREVORST. 133

Whatever is, is right, if only men are steadily bent to

make it so, by comprehending and fulfilling its design*.

May not I have an office, too, in my hospitality

and ready sympathy? If I sometimes entertain
guests who cannot pay with gold coin, with '-fair
rose nobles," that is better than to lose the chance of
entertaining angels unawares.

You, my three friends, are held in heart-honor, by
me. You, especially, Good-Sense, because whore
you do not go yourself, you do not object to another's
going, if he will. You. are really liberal. You, Old
Church, are of use, by keeping unforgot the effigies
of old religion, and reviving the tone of pure Spen-
serian sentiment, which this time is apt to stifle in its
childish haste. But you arc very faulty in censuring
and wishing to limit others by your own standard.
You, Self-Poise, fill a priestly office. Could but a
larger intelligence of the vocations of others, and a
tender sympathy with their individual natures be
added, had you more of love, or more of apprehen-
sive genius, (for either would give you the needed
expansion and delicacy) you would command my
entire reverence. As it is, I must at times deny and
oppose you* and so must others, for you tend, by
your influence, to exclude us from our full, free life.
We must be content when you censure, and rejoiced
when you approve ; always admonished to good by
your whole being, and sometimes by your judgment
And so I pass on to interest myself and others in the
memoir of the Seherin von Prevorst.

Aside from Lovvenstein, a town of Wirtemlxi
on mountains whose highest summit is more than
12

134 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

eighteen hundred feet above the level of the sea, lies
in romantic seclusion, surrounded on all sides by
woods and hills, the hamlet of Prevorst.

Its inhabitants number about four hundred and fifty,
most of whom support themselves by wood-cutting,
and making charcoal, and collecting wood seed.

As is usual with those who live upon the moun-
tains, these are a vigorous race, and generally live to
old age without sickness. Diseases that infest the
valley, such as ague, never touch them ; but they are
subject in youth to attacks upon the nerves, which
one would not expect in so healthy a class. In a
town situated near to, and like Prevorst, the child-
ren were often attacked with a kind of St. Vitus's
dance. They would foresee when it would seize
upon them, and, if in the field, would hasten home
to undergo the paroxysms there. From these they
rose, as from magnetic sleep, without memory of what
had happened.

Other symptoms show the inhabitants of this re-
gion very susceptible to magnetic and sidereal influ-
ences.

On this mountain, and indeed in the hamlet of
Prevorst, was, in 1801, a woman born, in whom a
peculiar inner life discovered itself from early child-
hood. Frederica Hauffe, whose father was game-
keeper of this district of forest, was, as the position
and solitude of her birthplace made natural, brought
up in the most simple manner. In the keen moun-
tain air and long winter cold, she was not softened
by tenderness either as to dress or bedding, but grew
up lively and blooming ; and while her brothers and

THE SEERESS OF PREVORST. 135

sisters, under the same circumstances, were subject to
rheumatic attacks, she remained free from them. On
the other hand, her peculiar tendency displayed itself
in her dreams. If anything affected her painfully, if
her mind was excited by reproof, she had instructive
warning, or prophetic dreams.

While yet quite young, her parents let her go, for
the advantages of instruction, to her grand-father, Jo-
hann Schmidgall, in Lowenstein.

Here were discovered in her the sensibility to mag-
netic and ghostly influences, which, the good Kerner
assures us, her grand-parents deeply lamented, and
did all in their power to repress. But, as it appears
that her grandfather, also, had seen a ghost, and
there were evidently legends in existence about the
rooms in which the little Frederika saw ghosts, and
spots where the presence of human bones caused her
sudden shivering, we may be allowed to doubt whether
indirect influence was not more powerful than direct
repression upon these subjects.

There is the true German impartiality with regard
to the scene of appearance for these imposing visiters ;
sometimes it is " a room in the Castle of Lowenstein,
bug disused."' B la Radcliile, sometimes " a desert. ,1
kitchen."

This " solemn, unhappy gift," brought no distur-
bance to the childish life of the maiden, she enjoyed
life with more vivacity than most of her companion*
The only trouble she bad was the extreme irritability
of the optic nerve, which, though without inflamma-
tion of the eyes, sometimes confined her to a soli-
tary chamber. " This," says Dr. K. M was probably a

136 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

sign of the development of the spiritual in the fleshly
eye."

Sickness of her parents at last called her back to
the lonely Prevorst, where, by trouble and watching
beside sick beds, her feelings were too much excited,
so that the faculty for prophetic dreams and the vision
of spirits increased upon her.

From her seventeenth to her nineteenth year,
when every outward relation was pleasant for her,
this inward life was not so active, and she was distin-
guished from other girls of her circle only by the
more intellectual nature, which displayed itself chiefly
in the eyes, and by a greater liveliness which, however,
never passed the bounds of grace and propriety.

She had none of the sentimentality so common at
that age, and it can be proved that she had never an
attachment, nor was disappointed in love, as has been
groundlessly asserted.

In her nineteenth year, she was by her family be-
trothed to Heir H. The match was desirable on
account of the excellence of the man, and the sure
provision it aflbrded for her comfort through life.

But, whether from presentiment of the years of
suffering that were before her, or from other hidden
feelings, of which we only know with certainty that,
if such there were, they were not occasioned by an-
other attachment, she sank into a dejection, inexpli-
cable to her family ; passed whole days in weeping ;
scarcely slept for some weeks, and thus the life of feel-
ing which had been too powerful in her childhood was
called up anew in full force.

On the day of her solemn betrothal, took place,

THE SEERESS OF PREVORST. 1 .'37

also, the funeral of T., the preacher of Oberstcnfeld,
a man of sixty and more years, whose preaching, in-
struction, and character, (he was goodness itself,) had
had great influence upon her life. She followed the
dear remains, with others, to the church-yard. Her
heart till then so heavy, was suddenly relieved and
calmed, as she stood beside the grave. She remain-
ed there long, enjoying her new peace, and when she
went away found herself tranquil, but indifferent to
all the concerns of this world. Here began the pe-
riod, not indeed as yet of sickness, but of her pecu-
liar inward life, which knew afterward no pause.

Later, in somnambulic state, she spoke of this day
in the following verses. The deceased had often ap-
peared to her as a shape of light, protecting her from
evil spirits.

(These are little simple rhymes ; they are not
worth translating into verse, though, in the original,
they have a childish grace.)

What was once so dark to me,
I gee now clearly.
In that day

When I had given in marriage myself away,

I stood quite immersed in thee,

Thou angel figure above thy grave mound.

Willingly would 1 have exchanged with th<

Willingly given up to thee my earthly luck,
Which those around praised as the blessing of heaven.

I prayed upon thy grave
For one blessing only,
12*

138 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

That the wings of this angel
Miffht henceforward
On the hot path of life,
Waft around me the peace of heaven.
There standest thou, angel, now: my prayer was heard.

She was, in consequence of her marriage, removed
to Kiirnbach, a place on the borders of Wurtemberg
and Baden. Its position is low, gloomy, shut in by
hills ; opposite in all the influences of earth and
atmosphere to those of Prevorst and its vicinity.

Those of electrical susceptibility are often made
sick or well by change of place. Papponi, (of whom
Amoretti writes,) a man of such susceptibility, was
cured of convulsive attacks by change of place.
Pennet could find repose while in one part of Cala-
bria, only by wrapping himself in an oil-cloth mantle,
thus, as it were, isolating himself. That great sense
of sidereal and imponderable influences, which after-
ward manifested itself so clearly in the Seherin, pro-
bably made this change of place very unfavorable to
her. Later, it appeared, that the lower she came
down from the hills, the more she suffered from
spasms, but on the heights her tendency to the mag-
netic state was the greatest.

But also mental influences were hostile to her.
Already withdrawn from the outward life, she was
placed, where, as consort and housekeeper to a labor-
ing man, the calls on her care and attention were in-
cessant. She was obliged hourly to forsake her inner
home, to provide for an outer, which did not corres-
pond with it.

She bore this seven months, • though flying to soli-

THE SEERESS OF PREVORST. 139

tilde, whenever outward relations permitted. But
longer it was not possible to conceal the inward verity
by an outward action, " the body sank beneath the
attempt, and the spirit took refuge in the inner circle."

One niirht she dreamed that she awoke and found
the dead body of the preacher T. by her side ; that at
the same time her father, and two physicians were
considering what should be done for her in a severe
sickness. She called out that " the dead friend would
help her; she needed no physician." Her husband,
hearing her cry out in sleep, woke her.

This dream was presage of a fever, which seized
her next morning. It lasted fourteen days with great
violence, and was succeeded by attacks of convulsion
and spasm. This was the beginning of that state of
bodily Buffering and mental exaltation in which she
passed the remaining seven years of her life.

She seems to have been very injudiciously treated
in the first stages of her illness. Bleeding was re-
sorted to, as usual in cases of extreme suffering where
the nurses know not what else to do, and, as usual,
the momentary relief was paid for by an increased
nervousness, and capacity for suffering.

Magnetic influences from other persons were of
frequent use to her, but they were applied without
care as to what characters and constitutions were
brought into connexion with hers, and were probably
ID the end just as injurious to her as the loss of blood.
At last she became so weak, so devoid of all power
in herself, that her life seemed entirely dependent on
artificial means and the influence of other men.

There is a singular story of a woman in the neigh-

140 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

borhood, who visited her once or twice, apparently
from an instinct that she should injure her, and after-
wards, interfered in the same way, and with the
same results, in the treatment of her child.

This demoniacal impulse and power, which were
ascribed to the Canidias of ancient superstition, may
be seen subtly influencing the members of every-day
society. We see persons led, by an uneasy impulse,
towards the persons and the topics where they are
sure they can irritate and annoy. This is constantly
observable among children, also in the closest relations
between grown up people who have not yet the gov-
ernment of themselves, neither are governed by the
better power.

There is also an interesting story of a quack who
treated her with amulets, whose parallel may be found
in the action of such persons in common society. It
is an expression of the power that a vulgar and self-
willed nature will attain over one delicate, poetical,
but not yet clear within itself; outwardly it yields to
a power which it inwardly disclaims.

A touching little passage is related of a time in the
first years, when she seemed to be better, so much so
as to receive an evening visit from some female friends.
They grew merry and began to dance ; she remained
sad and thoughtful. When they stopped, she was in
the attitude of prayer. One of her intimates, observ-
ing this, began to laugh. This affected her so much,
that she became cold and rigid like a corpse. For
some time they did not hear her breathe, and, when she
did, it was with a rattling noise. They applied mus-
tard poultices, and used foot and hand baths ; she was

THE SEERESS OF PREVORST. 141

brought back to life, but to a state of great suffer-

ing.

She recognized as her guardian spirit, who some-
times magnetized her or removed from her neighbor-
hood substances that were hurtful to her, her grand-
mother ; thus coinciding with the popular opinion that
traits reappear in the third generation.

Now began still greater wonders ; the second sight,
numerous and various visits from spirits and so. forth.

The following may be mentioned in connection
with theories and experiments current among our-
selves. . . .

" A friend, who was often with her at this time,
wrote to me (Kcrner) : When I, with my finger,
touch her on the forehead between the eyebrows, she
says each time something that bears upon the state of
my soul. Some of these sentences I record.

" Keep thy soul so that thou mayst bear it in thy
hands."

" When thou comest into a world of bustle and
folly, hold the Lord fast in thy heart."

" If any seek to veil from thee thy true feeling,
pray to God for grace."

" Permit not thyself to stifle the light that springs
up within thyself."

" Think often of the cross of Jesus ; go forth and
embrace it."

" As the dove found a resting-place in Noah's ark,
so wilt thou, also, find a resting-place which God has
appointed for thee."

When she was put under the care of Kemer, she

142 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

had been five years in this state, and was reduced to
such weakness, that she was, with difficulty, sustained
from hour to hour.

He thought at first it would be best to take no no-
tice of her magnetic states and directions, and told
her he should not, but should treat her with regard
to her bodily symptoms, as he would any other in-
valid.

" At this time she fell every evening into magnetic
sleep, and gave orders about herself ; to which, how-
ever, those round her no longer paid attention.

I was now called in. I had never seen this
woman, but had heard many false or perverted ac-
counts of her condition. I must confess that I shared
the evil opinion of the world as to her illness ; that I
advised to pay no attention to her magnetic situation,
and the orders she gave in it ; in her spasms, to for-
bear the laying of hands upon her ; to deny her the
support of persons of stronger nerves ; in short, to
do all possible to draw her out of the magnetic state,
and to treat her with attention, but with absolutely
none but the common medical means.

These views were shared by my friend, Dr. Off, of
Lowenstein, who continued to treat her accordingly.
But without good results. Hemorrhage, spasms,
night-sweats continued. Her gums were scorbutic-
ally affected, and bled constantly ; she lost all her
teeth. Strengthening remedies affected her like be-
ing drawn up from her bed by force ; she sank into
a fear of all men, and a deadly weakness. Her death
was to be wished, but it came not. Her relations, in
despair, not knowing themselves what they could do

THE SEERESS OF PREVORST. 1 13

with her, brought her, almost against my will, to me
at Weinsburg.

She was brought hither an image of death, per-
fectly emaciated, unable to raise herself. Every three
or four minutes, a tcaspoonful of nourishment must
be given her, else she fell into faintness or convulsion.
Her somnambulic situation alternated with fever,
hemorrhage, and night-sweats. Every evening, about
seven o'clock, she fell into magnetic sleep. She then
spread out her arms, and found herself, from t hut
moment, in a clairvoyant state ; but only when she
brought them back upon her breast, did she begin to
speak. (Kernel mentions that her child, too. slept
with its hands and feet crossed.) In this state her
eves were shut, her face calm and bright. v I she
fell asleep, the first night after her arrival, she asked
for me, but I bade them tell her that 1 now. and in
future, should speak to her only when awake.

After she awoke. I went to her and declared, in
brief and earnest terms, that I should pay no atten-
tion to what she said in sleep, and that her somaanv
bulic state, which had lasted so long to the gri< f and
trouble of her family, must now come to an end.
This declaration I accompanied by an earnest appeal,
designed to awaken a firm will in her to put down
the excessive activity of brain that disordered her
whole system. Afterwards, no address was made to
her on any subject when in her sleep-waking state.
She was left to lie unheeded. I pursued a hmnn-o-
pathic treatment of her case. But the medicines
constantly produced effects opposite to what I ex-
pected. She now suffered less from spasm and som-

144 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

nambulism, but with increasing marks of weakness
and decay.. All seemed as if the end of her suffer-
ings drew near. It was too late for the means I
wished to use. Affected so variously and powerfully
by magnetic means in the first years of her illness,
she .had now no life more, so thoroughly was the force
of her own organization exhausted, but what she bor-
rowed from others. In her now more infrequent
magnetic trance, she was always seeking the true
means of her cure. It was touching to see how, re-
tiring within herself, she sought for help. The phy-
sician who had aided her so little with his drugs, must
often stand abashed before this inner physician, per-
ceiving it to be far better skilled than himself." .

After some weeks forbearance, Kerner did ask her in
her sleep what he should do for her. She prescribed
a magnetic treatment, which was found of use. Af-
terwards, she described a machine, of which there is
a drawing in this book, which she wished to have
made for her use ; it was so, and she. derived benefit
from it. She had indicated such a machine in the
early stages of her disease, but at that time no one
attended to her. By degrees she grew better under
this, treatment, and lived at Weinsberg, nearly two
years, though in a state of great weakness, and more
in the magnetic and clairvoyant than in the natural
human state.

How his acquaintance with her affected the phy-
sician, he thus expresses :

" During those last months of her abode on the
earth, there remained to her only the life of a sylph.
I have been interested to record, not a. journal of her

THE. SEERESS OF PREVORST. 11.*)

sickness, but the mental phenomena of such an
almost disembodied life. Such may east light on the
period when also our Psyche may unfold her wings,
free from bodily bonds, and the hindrances of space
and lime. I give facts; each reader may interpret
them in his own way.

The manuals of animal magnetism and other
writings have proposed many theories by winch to ex-
plain such. All these are known to me. I shall
make no reference to them, but only, by use of par-
allel facts here and there, show that the phenomena
of this case recall many in which there is nothing
marvellous, but which are manifestly grounded in our
common existence. Such apparitions cannot too fre-
quently, if only for moments, flash across that com-
mon existence, as electric lights from the higher
world.

Fran II. was, previous to my magnetic treatment,
in so deep a somnambulic life, that she was, in fact,
never rightly awake, even when she seemed to be ; or
rather, let us say, she was at all times more awake
than others are ; for it is strange to term sleep this
state which is just that of the clearest wakefulness.
Better to say she was immersed in the inward state.

In this state and the consequent excitement of the
nerves, she had almost wholly lost organic force, and
received it only by transmission from those of stronger
condition, principally from their eyes and the ends
of the fingers. The atmosphere and nerve communi-
cations of others, said she, bring me the life which I
need ; they do not feel it ; these effusions on which
I live, would flow from them and be lost, if my nerves

13

146 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

did not attract them ; only in this way can I
live.

She often assured us that others did not suffer by
loss of what they imparted to her ; but it cannot be
denied that persons were weakened by constant in-
tercourse with her, suffered from contraction in the
limbs, trembling, &c. They were weakened also in
the eyes and pit of the stomach. From those related
to her by blood, she could draw more benefit than
from others, and, when very weak, from them only ;
probably on account of a natural affinity of tempera-
ment. She could not bear to have around her
nervous and sick persons ; those from whom she
could gain nothing made her weaker.

Even so it is remarked that flowers soon lose their
beauty near the sick, and suffer peculiarly under
the contact or care of some persons.

Other physicians, beside myself, can vouch that
the presence of some persons affected her as a pabu-
lum vitse, while, if left with certain others or alone,
she was sure to grow weaker.

From the air, too, she seemed to draw a peculiar
ethereal nourishment of the same sort ; she could
not remain without an open window in the severest
cold of winter.1

The spirit of things, about which we have no per-
ception, was sensible to her, and had influence on
her ; she showed this sense of the spirit of metals,
plants, animals, and men. Imponderable existences,

1 Near us, this last winter, a person who suffered, and finally died,
from spasms like those of the Seherin, also found relief from having the
windows open, while the cold occasioned great suffering to his attendants.

THE SEERESS OF PREVORST. 147

such as the various colors of the ray, showed distinct
influences upon her. The electric fluid was visible
and sensible to her when it was not to us. Yea !
what is incredible ! even the written words of men
she could discriminate by touch.1

These experiments are detailed under their several
heads in the book.

From her eyes flowed a peculiar spiritual light
which impressed even those who saw her for a very
short time. She was in each relation more spirit
than human.

Should we compare her with anything human, we
would say she was as one detained at the moment of
dissolution, betwixt life and death ; and who is better
able to discern the aflairs of the world that lies before,
than that behind him.

She was often in situations when one who had, like
her, the power of discerning spirits, would have seen
her own free from the body, which at all times envel-
oped it only as a light veil. She saw herself often out
of the body ; saw herself double. She would say, " I
seem out of myself, hover above my body, and think
of it as something apart from myself. But it is not a
pleasant feeling, because I still sympathize with my
body. If only my soul were bound more firmly to
the nerve-spirit, it might be bound more closely with
the nerves themselves ; but the bond of my nerve-
spirit is always becoming looser."

She makes a distinction between spirit as the pure
intelligence ; soul, the ideal of this individual man ; and
nerve-spirit, the dynamic of his temporal existence-

I Facts of the same kind are asserted of late among ourselves, and
believed, though " incredible."

148 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

Of this feeling of double identity, an invalid, now-
wasting under nervous disease, often speaks to me.
He has it w7hen he first awakes from sleep. Blake,
the painter, whose life was almost as much a series of
trances as that of our Seherin, in his designs of the
Resurrection, represents spirits as rising from, or
hovering over, their bodies in the same way.

Often she seemed quite freed from her body, and
to have no more sense of its weight.

As to artificial culture, or dressing, (dressur,) Frau H.
had nothing of it. She had learned no foreign tongue,
neither history, nor geography, nor natural philosophy,
nor any other of those branches now imparted to those
of her sex in their schools. The Bible and hymn-book
were, especially in the long years of her sickness, her
only reading : her moral character was throughout
blameless ; she wTas pious without fanaticism. Even
her long suffering, and the peculiar manner of it, she
recognized as the grace of God ; as she expresses in
the following verses :

Great God ! how great is thy goodness,
To me thou hast given faith and love,
Holding me firm in the distress of my sufferings.

In the darkness of my sorrow,
I was so far led away,
As to beg for peace in speedy death.

But then came to me the mighty strong faith ;
Hope came ; and came eternal love ;
They shut my earthly eyelids.
When, O bliss !

THE SEERESS OF PREVORST. 149

Dead lies my bodily frame,
But in the inmost mind a light burns up,
Such as none knows in the waking life.
Is it a light ? no ! but a sun of grace !

Often in the sense of her sufferings, while in the
magnetic trance, she made prayers in verse, of which
this is one :

Father, hear me !

Hear my prayer and supplication.

Father, I implore thee,
Let not thy child perish !

Look on my anguish, my tears.

Shed hope into my heart, and still its longing,
Father, on thee I call ; have pity I
Take something from me, the sick one, the poor one.

Father, I leave thee not,

Though sickness and pain consume me.

If I the spring's light,
See only through the mist of tears,

Father, I leave thee not.

These verses lose their merit of a touching sim-
plicity in an unrhymed translation ; but they will serve
to show the habitual temper of her mind.

" As I was a maker of verses," continues Dr. Ker-
ner, " it was easy to say, Frau II. derived this talent
from my magnetic influence ; but she made these
little verses before she came under my care." Not
without deep significance was Apollo distinguished as
being at once the God of poesy, of prophecy, and the

13*

150 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

medical art. Sleep-waking develops the powers
of seeing, healing, and poesy. How nobly the
ancients understood the inner life ; how fully is
it indicated in their mysteries ?

I know a peasant maiden, who cannot write,
but who, in the magnetic state, speaks in measur-
ed verse.

Galen was indebted to his nightly dreams for a part
of his medical knowledge.

The calumnies spread about Frau H. were many
and gross ; this she wTell knew. As one day she heard
so many of these as to be much affected by them, we
thought she. would express her feelings that night in
the magnetic sleep, but she only said " they can affect
my body, but not my spirit." Her mind, raised above
such assaults by the consciousness of innocence,
maintained its tranquillity and dwelt solely on spirit-
ual matters.

Once in her sleep-waking she wrote thus :

When the world declares of me
Such cruel ill in calumny,
And to your ears it finds a way,
Do you believe it, yea or nay ?

I answered :

To us thou seemest true and pure,
Let ethers view it as they will ;
We have our assurance still

If our own sight can make us sure.

People of all kinds, to my great trouble, were
always pressing to see her. If we refused them ac-

THE SEERESS OF PREVORST. 151

cess to the sick room, they avenged themselves by
the invention of all kinds of falsehoods.

She met all with an equal friendliness, even when
it cost her bodily pain, and those who defamed her,
she often defended. There came to her both good
and bad men. She felt the evil in men clearly, but
would not censure; lifted up a stone to cast at no sin-
ner, but was rather likely to awake, in the faulty beings
she suffered near her, faith in a spiritual life which
might make them better.

Years before she was brought to me, the earth,
with its atmosphere, and all that is about and upon
it, human beings not excepted, was no more for her.
She needed, not only a magnetizer, not only a love,
an earnestness, an insight, such as scarce lies within
the capacity of any man, but also what no mortal
could bestow upon her, another heaven, other means
of nourishment, other air than that of this earth.
She belonged to the world of spirits, living here her-
self, as more than half spirit She belonged to the
state after death, into which she had advanced more
than half way.

It is possible she might have been brought back
to an adaptation for this world in the second or
third year of her malady ; but, in the fifth, no mode of
treatment could have effected this. But by care she
was aided to a greater harmony and clearness of the
inward life ; she enjoyed at Weinsberg, as she after
said, the richest and happiest days of this life, and to
us her abode here remains a point of light.

As to her outward form, we have already said it
seemed but a thin veil about her spirit. She was

152 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

little, her features of an oriental cast, her eye had the
penetrating look of a seer's eye, which was set off by
the shade of long dark eyelashes. She was a light
flower that only lived on rays.

Eschenmayer writes thus of her in his " Mysteries."

" Her natural state was a mild, friendly earnestness,
always disposed to prayer and devotion ; her eye had
a highly spiritual expression, and remained, notwith-
standing her great sufferings, always bright and clear.
Her look was penetrating, would quickly change in
the conversation, seem to give forth sparks, and remain
fixed on some one place, — this was a token that some
strange apparition fettered it, — then would she re-
sume the conversation. When I first saw her, she
was in a situation which showed that her bodily life
could not long endure, and that recovery to the com-
mon natural state was quite impossible. Without
visible derangement of the functions, her life seemed
only a wick glimmering in the socket. She was, as
Kerner truly describes her, like one arrested in the
act of dying and detained in the body by magnetic
influences. Spirit and soul seemed often divided,
and the spirit to have taken up its abode in other re-
gions, while the soul was yet bound to the body."

I have given these extracts as being happily ex-
pressive of the relation between the physician and
the clairvoyant, also of her character.

It seems to have been one of singular gentleness,
and grateful piety, simple and pure, but not at all
one from which we should expect extraordinary de-
velopment of brain in any way ; yet the excitement
of her temperament from climate, scenery, the influ-

THE SEERESS OF PREVORST. 153

ence of traditions which evidently flowed round her,
and a great constitutional impressibility did develop
in her brain the germs both of poetic creation and
science.

I say poetic creation, for, to my mind, the ghosts
she saw were projections of herself into objective re-
ality. The Hades she imagines is based in fact,
for it is one of souls, who, having neglected their
opportunities for better life, find themselves left for-
lorn, helpless, seeking aid from beings still ignorant
and prejudiced, perhaps much below themselves in
natural powers. Having forfeited their chance of
direct access to God, they seek mediation from
.the prayers of men. But in the coloring and dress1
of these ghosts, as also in their manner and mode
of speech, there is a great deal which seems merely
fanciful — local and peculiar.

To me, these interviews represent only prophecies
of her mind ; yet, considered in this way, they are, if
not ghostly, spiritual facts of high beauty, and which
cast light on the state of the soul after its separation
from the body. Her gentle patience with them, her
steady reference to a higher cause, her pure joy,
when they became white in the light of happiness
obtained through aspiration, arc worthy of a more
than half enfranchised angel.

As to the stories of mental correspondence and
visits to those still engaged in this world, such as are
told of her presentiment of her father's death, and
connexion with him in the last moments, these are

1 The women ghosts all wear veils, put on the vny admired by the
Italian poets, of whom, however, she could know nothing.

154 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

probably pure facts. Those who have sufficient
strength of affection to be easily disengaged from
external impressions and habits, and who dare trust
their mental impulses are familiar with such.

Her invention of a language seems a simply natu-
ral motion of the mind when left to itself. The
language we habitually use is so broken, and so
hackneyed by ages of conventional use, that, in all
deep states of being, we crave one simple and primi-
tive in its stead. Most persons make one more or
less clear from looks, tones, and symbols : — this wo-
man, in the long leisure of her loneliness, and a mind
bent upon itself, attempted to compose one of letters
and words. I look upon it as no gift from without,
but a growth from her own mind.

Her invention of a machine, of which she made a
drawing, her power of drawing correctly her life-cir-
cle, and sun-circle, and the mathematical feeling she
had of her existence, in correspondent sections of
the two, are also valuable as mental facts. These
figures describe her history and exemplify the posi-
tion of mathematics toward the world of creative
thought.

Every fact of mental existence ought to be capable
of similar demonstration. I attach no especial im-
portance to her circles : — we all live in such ; all
who observe themselves have the same sense of ex-
actness and harmony in the revolutions of their des-
tiny. But few attend to what is simple and invaria-
ble in the motions of their minds, and still fewer
seek out means clearly to express them to others.

Goethe has taken up these facts in his Wander-

THE SEERESS OF PREVORST. 155

jahre, where he speaks of his Maearia ; also, one of
these persons who are compensated for bodily in-
firmity by a more concentrated and acute state of
mind, and consequent accesses of wisdom, as being
bound to a star. When she was engaged by a sense
of these larger revolutions, she seemed to those near
her on the earth, to be sick ; when she was, in fact,
lower, but better adapted to the details and variations
of an earthly life, these said she was well. Mac-
aria knew the sun and life circles, also, the lives of
spirit and soul, as did the forester's daughter of Pre-
vorst.

Her power of making little verses was one of her
least gifts. Many excitable persons possess this ta-
lent at versification, as all may possess it. It is
merely that a certain exaltation of feeling raises the
mode of expression with it, in the same way as song
differs from speech. Verses of this sort do not
necessarily demand the high faculties that constitute
the poet, — the creative powers. Many verses, good
ones, are personal or national merely. Ballads, hymns,
love-lyrics, have often no claim differing from those
of common prose speech, to the title of poems, ex-
cept a greater keenness and terseness of expression.

The verses of this Seherin are of the simplest
character, the natural garb for the sighs or aspirations
of a lonely heart. She uses the shortest words, the
commonest rhymes, and the verses move us by their
nature and truth alone.

The most interesting of these facts to me, arc her
impressions from minerals and plants. Her impres-
sions coincide with many ancient superstitions.

156 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

The hazel woke her immediately and gave her
more power, therefore the witch with her hazel wand,
probably found herself superior to those around her.
We may also mention, in reference to witchcraft, that
Dr. K. asserts that, in certain moods of mind, she had
no weight, but was upborne upon water, like cork,
thus confirming the propriety, and justice of our fore-
fathers' ordeal for witchcraft !

The laurel produced on her the highest magnetic
effect, therefore the Sibyls had good reasons for
wearing it on their brows.

u The laurel had on her, as on most sleep-wakers,
a distinguished magnetic effect. We thus see why
the priestess at Delphi, previous to uttering her ora-
cles, shook a laurel tree, and then seated herself on a
tripod covered with laurel boughs. In the temple of
iEsculapius, and others, the laurel was used to excite
sleep and dream."

From grapes she declared impressions, which cor-
responded with those caused by the wines made from
them. Many kinds were given her, one after the
other, by the person who raised them, and who gives
a certificate as to the accuracy of her impressions,
and his belief that she could not have derived them
from any cause, but that of the touch.

She prescribed vegetable substances to be used in
her machine, (as a kind of vapor bath,) and with good
results to herself.

She enjoyed contact with minerals, deriving from
those she liked a sense of concentrated life. Her
impressions of the precious stones, corresponded with
many superstitions of the ancients, which led to the

THE SEERESS OF PREVORST. 157

preference of certain gems for amulets, on which
they had engraved talismanic figures.

The ancients, in addition to their sense of the
qualities that distinguish the diamond above all gems,
venerated it as a talisman against wild beasts, poison,
and evil spiiits, thus expressing the natural influence of
what is so enduring, bright, and pure. Townshend,
speaking of the effect of gems on one of his slcep-
wakers, said, she loved the diamond so much that she
would lean her forehead towards it, whenever it was
brought near her.

It is observable that these sleep-wakers, in their
prescriptions, resemble the ancient sages, who culled
only simples for the sick. But if they have this fine
sense, also, for the qualities of animal and mineral
substances, there is no reason why they should not
turn bane to antidote, and prescribe at least homeo-
pathic doses of poison, to restore the diseased to
health.

The Seherin ascribed different states to the right
and left sides of every body, even of the lady moon.
The left is most impressible. Query : Is this the
reason why the left hand has been, by the custom of
nations, so almost disused, because the heart is on the
left side ?

She also saw different sights in the left from the
right eye. In the left, the bodily state of the person ;
in the right, his real or destined self, how often un-
known to himself, almost always obscured or pervert-
ed by his present ignorance or mistake. She had
also the gift of second sight. She saw the coffins of

14

»

158 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

those about to die. She saw in mirrors, cups of wa-
ter ; in soap-bubbles, the coming future.

We are here reminded of many beautiful supersti-
tions and legends ; of the secret pool in which the
daring may, at mid-moon of night, read the future ;
of the magic globe, on whose pure surface Britomart
sees her future love, whom she must seek, arrayed in
knightly armor, through a difficult and hostile world.

A looking-glass, right wondrously aguized,
Whose virtues through the wyde world soon were sol-
emnized.

It vertue had to show in perfect sight,
Whatever thing was in the world contayned,

Betwixt the lowest earth and hevens hight ;
So that it to the looker appertayned,

Whatever foe had wrought, or friend had fayned,
Herein discovered was, ne ought mote pas,

Ne ought in secret from the same remayned ;
Forthy it round and hollow shaped was,
Like to the world itselfe, and seemed a World of Glas.

Faerie Queene, Book III.

Such mirrors had Cornelius Agrippa and other
wizards. The soap-bubble is such a globe ; only
one had need of second sight or double sight to see
the pictures on so transitory a mirror. Perhaps it is
some vague expectation of such wonders, that makes
us so fond of blowing them in childish years. But,
perhaps, it is rather as a prelude to the occupation
of our lives, blowing bubbles where all things may

THE SEERESS OF PREVORST. 159

be seen, that, " to the looker appertain," if we can
keep them long enough or look quick enough.

In short, were this biography of no other value, it
would be most interesting as showing how the float-
ing belief of nations, always no doubt shadowing
forth in its imperfect fashion the poetic facts with
their scientific exposition, is found to grow up anew
in a simple, but high-wrought nature.

The fashioning spirit, working upwards from the
clod to man, proffers as its last, highest essay, the
brain of man. In the lowest zoophyte it aimed at
this; some faint rudiments may there be discerned:
but only in man has it perfected that immense gal-
vanic battery that can be loaded from above, below,
and around ; — that engine, not only of perception,
but of conception and consecutive thought, — whose
right hand is memory, whoso life is idea, the crown
of nature, the platform from which spirit takes wing.

Yet, as gradation is the beautiful secret of nature,
and the fashioning spirit, which loves to develop and
transcend, loves no less to moderate, to modulate,
and harmonize, it did not mean by thus drawing
man onward to the next state of existence, to destroy
his fitness for this. It did not mean to destroy his
sympathies with the mineral, vegetable, and animal
realm-, of whose components he is in great part
composed; which were the preface to his being, of
whom lie is to take count, whom he should govern
as a reasoning head of a perfectly arranged body.
He was meant to be the historian, the philosopher,
the poet, the king of this world, no less than the
prophet of the next.

160 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

These functions should be in equipoise, and when
they are not, when we see excess either on the natu-
ral (so called as distinguished from the spiritual,) or
the spiritual side, we feel that the law is transgressed.
And, if it be the greatest sorrow to see brain merged
in body, to see a man more hands or feet than head,
so that we feel he might, with propriety, be on all
fours again, or even crawl like the serpent ; it is also
sad to see the brain, too much excited on some one
side, which we call madness, or even unduly and
prematurely, so as to destroy in its bloom, the com-
mon human existence of the person, as in the case
before us, and others of the poetical and prophetical
existence.

We would rather minds should foresee less and see
more surely, that death should ensue by gentler gra-
dation, and the brain be the governor and interpreter,
rather than the destroyer, of the animal life. But, in
cases like this, where the animal life is prematurely
broken up, and the brain prematurely exercised, we
may as well learn what we can from it, and believe
that the glimpses thus caught, if not as precious as
the full view, are bright with the same light, and
open to the same scene.

There is a family character about all the German
ghosts. We find the same features in these stories
as in those related by Jung Stilling and others.
They bear the same character as the pictures by the
old masters, of a deep and simple piety. She stands
before as, this piety, in a full, high-necked robe, a
simple, hausfrauish cap, a clear, straightforward blue
eye. These are no terrible, gloomy ghosts with

THE SEERESS OF PREVORST. 161

Spanish mantle or Italian dagger. We feel quite at
home with them, and sure of their good faith.

To the Sehcrin, they were a real society, constantly
inspiring good thoughts. The reference to them
in these verses, written in her journal shortly before
her death, is affecting, and shows her deep sense of
their reality. She must have felt that she had been
a true friend to them, by refusing always, as she did,
requests she thought wrong, and referring them to a
Saviour.

Farewell, my friends,
All farewell,

God bless you for your love —
Bless you for your goodness.
All farewell I

And you, how shall I name you ?

Who have so saddened me,
I will name you also — Friends;
You have been discipline to me.

Farewell ! farewell !

Farewell ! you my dear ones,
Soon will you know '
How hard have been my sufferings
In the Pilgrim land.
Farewell !

Let it not grieve you,
That my woes find an end ;

i The physician thought she here referred to the examination of her
body that would lake plan- ali.r her death. The brain was found to be
sound, though there were marks of great disease elsewhere.

14*

162 SUMMER ON THE LAKES,

Farewell, dear ones,
Till the second meeting ;
Farewell ! Farewell !

In this journal her thoughts dwell much upon those
natural ties which she was not permitted to enjoy.
She thought much of her children, and often fancied
she had saw the one who had died, growing in the
spirit land. Any allusion to them called a sweet
smile on her face when in her trance.

Other interesting poems are records of these often
beautiful visions, especially of that preceding her own
death ; the address to her life-circle, the thought of
which is truly great, (this was translated in the Dublin
Magazine,) and descriptions of her earthly state as an
impiisonment. The story of her life, though stained
like others, by partialities, and prejudices, which were
not justly distinguished from what was altogether true
and fair, is a poem of so pure a music, presents such
gentle and holy images, that we sympathize fully in
the love and gratitude Kerner and his friends felt
towards her, as the friend of their best life. She was
a St. Theresa in her way.

His address to her, with which his volume closes,
may thus be translated in homely guise. In the ori-
ginal it has no merit, except as utteiing his affection-
ate and reverent feeling towards his patient, the
peasant girl, — "the sick one, the poor one." But
we like to see how7, from the mouths of babes and
sucklings, praise may be so perfected as to command
this reverence from the learned and worldly-wise.

THE SEERESS OF PREVORST. 163

Farewell ; the debt I owe thee

Ever in heart I bear ;
My soul sees, since I know thee,

The spirit depths so clear.

Whether in light or shade,

Thy soul now dwelling hath ;
Be, if my faith should fade,

The guide upon my path.

Li vest thou in mutual power,

With spirits blest and bright,
O be, in death's dark hour,

My help to heaven's light.

Upon thy grave is growing,

The plant by thee beloved,1
St. Johns-wort golden glowing,

Like St. John's thoughts of love.

Witness of sacred sorrow,

Whene'er thou meet'st my eye,

O rlower, from thee I borrow,
Thoughts for eternity.

Farewell ! the woes of earth

No more my soul affright ;
Who knows their temporal birth

Can easy bear their weight.

I do confess this is a paraphrase, not a translation,
also, that in the other extracts, I have taken liberties

1 She received great benefit from decoctions of this herb, and often
prescribed it to others.

164 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

with the original for the sake of condensation, and
clearness. What I have written must be received as
a slight and conversational account of the work.

Two or three other remarks, I had forgotten, may
come in here.

The glances at the spirit-world have none of that
large or universal significance, none of that value from
philosophical analogy, that is felt in any picture by
Svvedenborg, or Dante, of permanent relations. The
mind of the forester's daughter was exalted and
rapidly developed ; still the wild cherry tree bore
no orange ; she was not transformed into a philo-
sophic or poetic organization.

Yet many of her untaught notions remind of
other seers of a larger scope. She, too, receives
this life as one link in a long chain ; and thinks that
immediately after death, the meaning of the past life
will appear to us as one word.

She tends to a belief in the aromal state, and in
successive existences on this earth ; for behind per-
sons she often saw another being, whether their form
in the state before or after this, I know not ; behind
a woman a man, equipped for fight, and so forth.
Her perception of character, even in cases of those
whom she saw only as they passed her window, was
correct.

Kerner aims many a leaden sarcasm at those who
despise his credulity. He speaks of those sages as
men whose brain is a glass table, incapable of receiv-
ing the electric spark, and who will not believe, be-
cause, in their mental isolation, they are incapable of
feeling these facts.

MILWAUKIE. 16

>

Certainly, I think he would be dull, who could see
no meaning or beauty in the history of the forester's
daughter of Prevorst. She lived but nine-and-twenty
pears, yet, in that time, had traversed a larger portion
of the Held of thought than all her race before, in their
many and long lives.

Of the abuses to which all these magical imple-
ments are prone, I have an instance, since leaving
Mihvaukie, in the journal of a man equally sincere,
but not equally inspired, led from Germany hither by
signs and wonders, as a commissioned agent of Prov-
idence, who, indeed, has arranged every detail of his
life with a minuteness far beyond the promised care
of the sparrow. He props himself by spiritual aid
from a maiden now in this country, who was once an
attendant on the Sccress, and who seems to have
caught from her the contagion of trance, but not its
revelations.

Do not blame me that I have written so much
about Germany and Hades, while you were looking
for news of the West. Here, on the pier, I see dis-
embarking the Germans, the Norwegians, the Swedes,
the Swiss. Who knows how much of old legendary
lore, of modern wonder, they have already planted
amid the Wisconsin forests ? Soon, soon their tales
of the origin of things, and the Providence which
rules them, will be so mingled with those of the In-
dian, that the very <>ak trees will not know them
apart, — will not know whether itself be a ltunic, a
Druid, or a Winnebago oak.

166 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

Some seeds of all growths that have ever been
known in this world might, no doubt, already be
found in these Western wilds, if we had the power
to call them to life.

I saw, in the newspaper, that the American Tract
Society boasted of their agents' having exchanged, at a
Western cabin door, tracts for the Devil on Two Sticks,
and then burnt that more entertaining than edify-
ing volume. No wonder, though, they study it there.
Could one but have the gift of reading the dreams
dreamed by men of such various birth, various his-
tory, various mind, it would afford much more exten-
sive amusement than did the chambers of one Span-
ish city !

Could I but have flown at night through such men-
tal experiences, instead of being shut up in my little
bedroom at the Milwaukie boarding house, this chap-
ter would have been worth reading. As it is, let us
hasten to a close.

Had I been rich in money, I might have built a
house, or set up in business, during my fortnight's
stay at Milwaukie, matters move on there at so rapid a
rate. But, being only rich in curiosity, I was obliged
to walk the streets and pick up what I could in cas-
ual intercourse. When I left the street, indeed, and
walked on the bluffs, or sat beside the lake in their
shadow, my mind was rich in dreams congenial to the
scene, some time to be realized, though not by me.

A boat was left, keel up, half on the sand, half in
the water, swaying with each swell of the lake. It
gave a picturesque grace to that part of the shore, as
the only image of inaction — only object of a pensive

MILWAUKEE. 167

character to be seen. Near this I sat, to dream my
dreams and watch the colors of the lake, changing
hourly, till the sun sank. These hours yielded im-
pulses, wove webs, such as life will not again a fiord.

Returning to the boarding house, which was also a
boarding school, we were sure to be greeted by gay
laughter.

This school was conducted by two girls of nine-
teen and seventeen years ; their pupils were nearly
as old as themselves ; the relation seemed very pleas-
ant between them. The only superiority — that of
superior knowledge — was sufficient to maintain au-
thority— all the authority that was needed to keep
daily life in good order.

In the West, people are not respected merely be-
cause they are old in years ; people there have not
time to keep up appearances in that way ; when they
cease to have a real advantage in wisdom, knowledge,
or enterprise, they must stand back, and let those
who are oldest in character " go ahead," however few
years they may count. There are no banks of estab-
lished respectability in which to bury the talent there ;
no napkin of precedent in which to wrap it. What
cannot be made to pass current, is not esteemed coin
of the realm.

To the windows of this house, where the daughter
of a famous " Indian fighter," i. e. fighter against the
Indians, was learning French and the piano, came
wild, tawny figures, offering for sale their baskets of
berries. The boys now, instead of brandishing the
tomahawk, tame their hands to pick raspberries.

Here the evenings were much lightened by the

168 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

gay chat of one of the party, who, with the excellent
practical sense of mature experience, and the kindest
heart, united a naivete and innocence such as I
never saw in any other who had walked so long
life's tangled path. Like a child, she was every-
where at home, and like a child, received and be-
stowed entertainment from all places, all persons. I
thanked her for making me laugh, as did the sick and
poor, whom she was sure to find out in her briefest
sojourn in any place, for more substantial aid. Hap-
py are those who never grieve, and so often aid and
enliven their fellow men !

This scene, however, I was not sorry to exchange
for the much celebrated beauties of the Island of
Mackinaw.

CHAPTER VI.

MACKINAW.

Late at night we reached this island, so famous
for its beauty, and to which I proposed a visit of
some length. It was the last week in August, when
a large representation from the Chippewa and Otto-
wa tribes arc here to receive their annual payments
from the American government. As their habits
make travelling easy and inexpensive to them, nei-
ther being obliged to wait for steamboats, or write to
see whether hotels are full, they come hither by
thousands, and those thousands in families, secure of
accommodation on the beach, and food from the
lake, to make a long holiday out of the occasion.
There were near two thousand encamped on the
island already, and more arriving every day.

As our boat came in, the captain had some rockets
let off. This greatly excited the Indians, and their
yells and wild cries resounded along the shore. Ex-
cept for the momentary flash of the rockets, it was
perfectly dark, and my sensations as I walked with a
stranger to a strange hotel, through the midst of

15

170 SUMMER ON THE LAKE3.

these shrieking savages, and heard the pants and
snorts of the departing steamer, which carried away
all my companions, were somewhat of the dismal
sort ; though it was pleasant, too, in the way that
everything strange is ; everything that breaks in upon
the routine that so easily incrusts us.

I had reason to expect a room to myself at the
hotel, but found none, and was obliged to take up
my rest in the common parlor and eating-room, a cir-
cumstance which ensured my being an early riser.

With the first rosy streak, I was out among my
Indian neighbors, whose lodges honey-combed the
beautiful beach, that curved away in long, fair outline
on either side the house. They were already on the
alert, the children creeping out from beneath the
blanket door of the lodge ; the women pounding
corn in their rude mortars, the young men playing
on their pipes. I had been much amused, when the
strain proper to the Winnebago courting flute was
played to me on another instrument, at any one fan-
cying it a melody ; but now, when I heard the notes
in their true tone and time, I thought it not unwor-
thy comparison, in its graceful sequence, and the light
flourish, at the close, with the sweetest bird-songs ;
and this, like the bird-song, is only practised to allure
a mate. The Indian, become a citizen and a hus-
band, no more thinks of playing the flute than one
of the " settled down " members of our society would
of choosing the " purple light of love " as dye-stuff
for a surtout.

Mackinaw has been fully described by able pens,
and I can only add my tribute to the exceeding

MACKINAW. 171

beauty of the spot and its position. It is charming
to be on an island so small that you can sail round
it in an afternoon, yet lame enough to admit of long
secluded walks through its gentle groves. You can
go round it in your boat ; or, on foot, you can tread
its narrow beach, resting, at times, beneath the lofty
walls of stone, richly wooded, which rise from it in
various architectural forms. In this stone, caves are
continually forming, from the action of the atmos-
phere ; one of these is quite deep, and with a frag-
ment left at its mouth, wreathed with little creeping
plants, that looks, as you sit within, like a ruined
pillar.

The arched rock surprised me, much as I had
heard of it, from the perfection of the arch. It is
perfect whether you look up through it from the
lake, or down through it to the transparent waters.
We both ascended and descended, no very easy mat-
ter, the steep and crumbling path, and rested at the
summit, beneath the trees, and at the foot upon the
cool mossy stones beside the lapsing wave. Nature
lias carefully decorated all this architecture with shrubs
that take root within the crevices, and small creep-
ing vines. These natural ruins may vie for beauti-
ful effect with the remains of European grandeur,
and have, beside, a charm as of a playful mood in
nature.

The sugar-loaf rock is a fragment in the same kind
as the pine rock we saw in Illinois. It has the same
air of a helmet, as seen from an eminence at the
side, which you descend by along and Bleep path.
The rock itself may be ascended by the bold and

172 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

agile. Half way up is a niche, to which those, who
are neither, can climb by a ladder. A very handsome
young officer and lady who were with us did so, and
then, facing round, stood there side by side, looking
in the niche, if not like saints or angels wrought by
pious hands in stone, as romantically, if not as holily,
worthy the gazer's eye.

The woods which adorn the central ridge of the
island are very full in foliage, and, in August, showed
the tender green and pliant leaf of June elsewhere.
They are rich in beautiful mosses and the wild rasp-
berry.

From Fort Holmes, the old fort, we had the most
commanding view of the lake and straits, opposite
shores, and fair islets. Mackinaw, itself, is best seen
from the water. Its peculiar shape is supposed to
have been the origin of its name, Michilimackinac,
which means the Great Turtle. One person whom I
saw, wished to establish another etymology, which
he fancied to be more refined ; but, I doubt not, this
is the true one, both because the shape might suggest
such a name, and that the existence of an island in
this commanding position, which did so, would seem
a significant fact to the Indians. For Henry gives
the details of peculiar worship paid to the Great Tur-
tle, and the oracles received from this extraordinary
Apollo of the Indian Delphos.

It is crowned most picturesquely, by the white fort,
with its gay flag. From this, on one side, stretches
the town. How pleasing a sight, after the raw,
crude, staring assemblage of houses, everywhere else
to be met in this country, an old French town, mel-

MACKINAW. 173

low in its coloring, and with the harmonious effect of
a slow growth, which assimilates, naturally, with ob-
jects round it. The people in its streets, Indian,
French, half-breeds, and others, walked with a leisure
step, as of those who live a life of taste and inclina-
tion, rather than of the hard press of business, as in
American towns elsewhere.

On the other side, along the fair, curving beach,
below the white houses scattered on the declivity,
clustered the Indian lodges, with their amber brown
matting, so soft, and bright of hue, in the late after-
noon sun. The first afternoon I was there, looking
down from a near height, I felt that I never wished
to see a more fascinating picture. It was an hour of
the deepest serenity ; bright blue and gold, rich
shadows. Every moment the sunlight fell more mel-
low. The Indians were grouped and scattered among
the lodges ; the women preparing food, in the kettle
or frying-pan, over the many small fires ; the child-
ren, half-naked, wild as little goblins, were playing
both in and out of the water. Here and there
lounged a young girl, with a baby at her back, whose
bright eyes glanced, as if born into a world of cour-
age and of joy, instead of ignominious servitude and
slow decay. Some girls were cutting wood, a little
way from me, talking and laughing, in the low musi-
cal tone, so charming in the Indian women. Many
bark canoes were upturned upon the beach, and, by
that light, of almost the same amber as the lodges.
Others, coming in, their square sails set, and with
almost arrowy speed, though heavily laden with
dusky forms, and all the apparatus of their house-

15*

174 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

hold. Here and there a sail-boat glided by, with a
different, but scarce less pleasing motion.

It was a scene of ideal loveliness, and these wild
forms adorned it, as looking so at home in it. All
seemed happy, and they were happy that day, for
they had no firewater to madden them, as it was Sun-
day, and the shops were shut.

From my window, at the boarding house, my eye
was constantly attracted by these picturesque groups.
I was never tired of seeing the canoes come in, and
the new arrivals set up their temporary dwellings.
The women ran to set up the tent-poles, and spread
the mats on the ground. The men brought the
chests, kettles, &c. ; the mats were then laid on the
outside, the cedar boughs strewed on the ground, the
blanket hung up for a door, and all was completed in
less than twenty minutes. Then they began to pre-
pare the night meal, and to learn of their neighbors
the news of the day.

The habit of preparing food out of doors, gave all
the gipsy charm and variety to their conduct. Con-
tinuallv I wanted Sir Walter Scott to have been
there. If such romantic sketches were suggested
to him, by the sight of a few gipsies, not a group
near one of these fires but would have furnished him
material for a separate canvass. 1 was so taken up
with the spirit of the scene, that I could not follow
out the stories suggested by these weather-beaten,
sullen, but eloquent figures.

They talked a great deal, and with much variety
of gesture, so that I often had a good guess at the
moaning of their discourse. I saw that, whatever the

MACKINAW. 17-")

Indian may bo among the whites, lie is anything but
taciturn with his own people. And he often would

declaim, or narrate at length, as indeed it is obvious,
thai these tribes poss jreal power that way. if
only from the fables taken from their stores, by Mr.
Schoolcraft.

I liked very much to walk or sit among them.
With the women I held much communication by
Blgns. They are almost invariably coarse and Ugly,
with the exception of their eyes, with a peculiarly
awkward gait, and forms bent by burthens. This gait.
so different from the steady and noble step of the men.
marks the inferior position they occupy. I had heard
much eloquent contradiction of this. Mrs. School*
il't had maintained to a friend, that they were in
fact ; - arly on a par with their husbands as the
white woman with hers. " Although," said she, " on
account of inevitable causes, the Indian woman is
Subjected to many hardships of a peculiar nature, yet
her position, compared with that of the man, is In-h-
and freer than thai of the white woman. Why
will people look only on one side? They cither exalt
the lied man into a Demigod or degrade him into a
beast. They say that he compels his wife to do all
the drudgery, while hedoes nothing but hunt and
•muse himself; forgetting that, upon his activity and
power of endurance as a hunter, depends the support
of his family ; that this is labor of the most fatiguing
kind, and thai it is absolutely necessary that he should
keep his frame unbent by burdens and unworn by
toil, that he may be able to obtain the means of sub-
sistence. I have witnessed scenes of conjugal and

176 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

parental love in the Indian's wigwam from which I
have often, often thought the educated white man,
proud of his superior civilization, might learn an use-
ful lesson. When he returns from hunting, worn out
with fatigue, having tasted nothing since dawn, his
wife, if she is a good wife, will take off his moccasons
and replace them with dry ones, and will prepare his
game for their repast, while his children will climb
upon him, and he will caress them with all the ten-
derness of a woman ; and in the evening the Indian
wigwam is the scene of the purest domestic pleasures.
The father will relate for the amusement of the wife,
and for the instruction of the children, all the events
of the day's hunt, while they will treasure up every
word that falls, and thus learn the theory of the art,
whose practice is to be the occupation of their lives.

Mrs. Grant speaks thus of the position of woman
amid the Mohawk Indians :

" Lady Mary Montague says, that the court of
Vienna was the paradise of old women, and that
there is no other place in the world where a wo-
man past fifty excites the least interest. Had her
travels extended to the interior of North America, she
would have seen another instance of this inversion of
the common mode of thinking. Here a woman never
was of consequence, till she had a son old enough to
fight the battles of his country. From that date she
held a superior rank in society ; was allowed to live
at ease, and even called to consultations on national
affairs. In savage and warlike countries, the reign of
beauty is very short, and its influence comparatively
limited. The girls in childhood had a very pleasing

MACKINAW. 117

appearance ; but except hilt their fine hair, eves, and
teeth, every external grace was soon banished by per-
petual drudgery, carrying burdens too heavy to be
borne, and other slavish employments considered be-
neath the dignity of the men. These walked before
erect and graceful, decked with ornaments which set
oif to advantage the symmetry of their well-formed
persons, while the poor women followed, meanly
attired, bent under the weight of the children and
utensils, which they carried everywhere with them,
and disfigured and degraded by ceaseless toils. They
were very early married, for a Mohawk had no other
servant but his wife, and, whenever he commenced
hunter, it was requisite he should have some one to
carry his load, cook his kettle, make his moccasons,
and, above all, produce the young warriors who were
to succeed him in the honors of the chase and of the
tomahawk. Wherever man is a mere hunter, woman
is a mere slave. It is domestic intercourse that soft-
ens man, and elevates woman ; and of that there can
be but little, where the employments and amusements
arc not in common ; the ancient Caledonians honored
the fair ; but then it is to be observed, they were fair
huntresses, and moved in the light of their beauty to
the hill of rocs; and. the culinary toils were entirely
left to the rougher sex. When the young warrior
made his appearance, it softened the cares* of his
mother, who well knew that, when he grew up, every
deficiency in tenderness to his wife would be made
up in superabundant duty and affection to her. li it
were possible to carry filial veneration to excess, it
was done here ; for all other charities were absorbed

178 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

in it. I wonder this system of depressing the sex in
their early years, to exalt them when all their juvenile
attractions were flown, and when mind alone can dis-
tinguish them, has not occurred to our modern re-
formers. The Mohawks took good care not to admit
their women to share their prerogatives, till they ap-
proved themselves good wives and mothers."

The observations of women upon the position of
woman are always more valuable than those of men ;
but, of these two, Mrs. Grant's seems much nearer the
truth than Mrs. Schoolcraft's, because, though her
opportunities for observation did not bring her so close,
she looked more at both sides to find the truth.

Carver, in his travels among the Winnebagoes,
describes two queens, one nominally so, like Queen
Victoria; the other invested with a genuine royalty,
springing from her own conduct.

In the great town of the Winnebagoes, he found
a queen presiding over the tribe, instead of a sa-
chem. He adds, that, in some tribes, the descent is
given to the female line in preference to the male,
that is, a sister's son will succeed to the authority,
rather than a brother's son.

The position of this Winnebago queen, reminded
me forcibly of Queen A^ictoria's.

" She sat in the council, but only asked a few ques-
tions, or gave some trifling directions in matters rela-
tive to the state, for women are never allowed to sit in
their councils, except they happen to be invested with
the supieme authority, and then it is not customary
for them to make any formal speeches, as the chiefs
do. She was a very ancient woman, small in stature,

MACKINAW. 179

and not much distinguished by her dress from several
young women that attended her. These, her attend-
ants, seemed greatly pleased whenever I showed any
tokens of respect to their queen, especially when I
saluted her, which I frequently did to acquire her
favor."

The other was a woman, who being taken captive,
found means to kill her captor, and make her escape,
and the tribe were so struck with admiration at the
courage and calmness she displayed on the occasion,
as to make her chieftainess in her own right.

Notwithstanding the homage paid to women, and
the consequence allowed her in some cases, it is
impossible to look upon the Indian women, with-
out feeling that they do occupy a lower place than
women among the nations of European civilization.
The habits of drudgery expressed in their form and
gesture, the soft and wild but melancholy expression
of their eye, reminded me of the tribe mentioned by
Mackenzie, where the women destroy their female
children, whenever they have a good opportunity ;
and of the eloquent reproaches addressed by the
Paraguay woman to her mother, that she had not, in
the same way, saved her from the anguish and weari-
ness of her lot.

More weariness than anguish, no doubt, falls to the lot
of most of these women. They inherit submission, and
the minds of the generality accommodate themselves
more or less to any posture. Perhaps they sutler less
than their white sisters, who have more aspiration and
refinement, with little power of self-sustenance. But
their place is certainly lower, and their share of the
human inheritance less.

180 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

Their decorum and delicacy are striking, and
show that when these are native to the mind, no
habits of life make any difference. Their whole ges-
ture is timid, yet self-possessed. They used to
crowd round me, to inspect little things I had to
show them, but never press near ; on the contrary,
would reprove and keep off the children. Anything
they took from my hand, was held with care, then
shut or folded, and returned with an air of lady-like
precision. They would not stare, however curious
they might be, but cast sidelong glances.

A locket that I wore, was an object of untiring in-
terest ; they seemed to regard it as a talisman. My
little sun-shade was still more fascinating to them ;
apparently they had never before seen one. For an
umbrella they entertain profound regard, probably
looking upon it as the most luxurious superfluity a
person can possess, and therefore a badge of great
wealth. I used to see an old squaw, whose sullied
skin and coarse, tanned locks^ told that she had
braved sun and storm, without a doubt or care, for
sixty years at the least, sitting gravely at the door of
her lodge, with an old green umbrella over her head,
happy for hours together in the dignified shade. For
her happiness pomp came not, as it so often does, too
late ; she received it with grateful enjoyment.

One day, as I was seated on one of the canoes, a
woman came and sat beside me, with her baby in its
cradle set up at her feet. She asked me by a ges-
ture, to let her take my sun-shade, and then to show
her how to open it. Then she put it into her baby's
hand, and held it over its head, looking at me the

MACKINAW. 181

while with a sweet, mischievous laugh, as much as to
say, "you carry a thing that is only fit for a baby ;"
her pantomime was very pretty. She, like the other
women, had a glance, and shy, sweet expression in
the eye ; the men have a steady gaze.

That noblest and loveliest of modern Preux. Lord
Edward Fitzgerald, who came through BulValo to
Detroit and Mackinaw, with Brant, and was adopt-
ed into the Bear tribe by the name of Eghnidal, was
struck, in the same way, by the delicacy of manners in
the women. He says, " Notwithstanding the life
they lead, which would make most women rough and
masculine, they are as soft, meek and modest, as the
best brought up girls in England. Somewhat co-
quettish too ! Imagine the manners of Mimi in a
poor squaw, that has been carrying packs in the
woods all her life."

McKennry mentions that the young wife, during
the short bloom of her beauty, is an object of homage
and tenderness to her husband. One Indian woman,
the Flying Pigeon, a beautiful, an excellent woman, of
whom he gives some particulars, is an instance of the
power uncommon characters will always exert of
breaking down the barriers custom has erected round
them. She captivated by her charms, and inspired
with reverence for her character, her husband and
son. The simple praise with which the husband in-
dicates the religion, the judgment, and the generosity
he saw in her, are as satisfying as Count Zinzendorf 's
more labored eulogium on his " noble consort." The
conduct of her son, when, many years after her death,
he saw her picture at Washington, is unspeakably

16

18*2 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

affecting. Catlin gives anecdotes of the grief of a
chief for the loss of a daughter, and the princely gifts
he offers in exchange for her portrait, worthy not
merely of European, but of Troubadour sentiment.
It is also evident that, as Mrs. Schoolcraft says, the
women have great power at home. It can never be
otherwise, men being dependent upon them for the
comfort of their lives. Just so among ourselves,
wives who are neither esteemed nor loved by their
husbands, have great power over their conduct by the
friction of every day, and over the formation of their
opinions by the daily opportunities so close a relation
affords, of perverting testimony and instilling doubts.
But these sentiments should not come in brief flashes,
but burn as a steady flame, then there would be more
women worthy to inspire them. This power is good
for nothing, unless the woman be wise to use it
aright. Has the Indian, has the white woman, as
noble a feeling of life and its uses, as religious a self-
respect, as worthy a field of thought and action, as
man ? If not, the white woman, the Indian woman,
occupies an inferior position to that of man. It is
not so much a question of power, as of privilege.

The men of these subjugated tribes, now accus-
tomed to drunkenness and every way degraded, bear
but a faint impress of the lost grandeur of the race.
They are no longer strong, tall, or finely proportion-
ed. Yet as you see them stealing along a height, or
striding boldly forward, they remind you of what was
majestic in the red man.

On the shores of lake Superior, it is said, if you
visit them at home, you may still see a remnant of

MACKINAW. 183

the noble blood. The Pillagers — (Pilleurs) — a
band celebrated by the old travellers, arc still exist*
ant there.

" Still some, ' the eagles of their tribe,' may rush."

I have spoken of the hatred felt by the white man
for the Indian : with white women it seems to amount
to disgust, to loathing. How I could endure the dirt,
the peculiar smell of the Indians, and their dwellings,
was a great marvel in the eyes of my lady acquaint-
ance ; indeed, I wonder why they did not quite give
me up, as they certainly looked on me with great dis-
taste for it. " Get you gone, you Indian dog," was
the felt, if not the breathed, expression towards the
hapless owners of the soil. All their claims, all their
sonows quite forgot, in abhorrence of their dirt, their
tawny skins, and the vices the whites have taught
them.

A person who had seen them during great part of
a life, expressed his prejudices to me with such vio-
lence, that I was no longer surprised that the Indian
children threw sticks at him, as he passed. A lady
said, " do what you will for them, they will be un-
grateful. The savage cannot be washed out of them.
Bring up an Indian child and see if you can attach it
to you." The next moment, she expressed, in the
presence of one of those children whom she was
bringing up, loathing at the odor left by one of her
people, and one of the most respected, as he passed
through the room. When the child is grown she will
consider it basely ungrateful not to love her, as it
certainly will not ; and this will be cited as an instance
of the impossibility of attaching the Indian.

184 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

Whether the Indian could, by any efforts of love
and intelligence from the white man, have been civil-
ized and made a valuable ingredient in the new state,
I will not say ; but this we are sure of; the French
Catholics, at least, did not harm them, nor disturb
their minds merely to corrupt them. The French
they loved. But the stern Presbyterian, with his
dogmas and his task-work, the city circle and the
college, with their niggard concessions and unfeeling
stare, have never tried the experiment. It has not
been tried. Our people and our government have
sinned alike against the first-born of the soil, and if
they are the fated agents of a new era, they have
done nothing — have invoked no god to keep them
sinless while they do the hest of fate.

Worst of all, when they invoke the holy power only
to mask their iniquity ; when the felon trader, who,
all the week, has been besotting and degrading the
Indian with rum mixed with red pepper, and damaged
tobacco, kneels with him on Sunday before a com-
mon altar, to tell the rosary which recalls the thought
of him crucified for love of suffering men, and to
listen to sermons in praise of " purity" ! !

My savage friends, cries the old fat priest, you
must, above all things, aim at 'purity.

Oh, my heart swelled when I saw them in a Chris-
tian church. Better their own dog-feasts and bloody
rites than such mockery of that other faith.

" The dog," said an Indian, " was once a spirit ;
he has fallen for his sin, and was given by the Great
Spirit, in this shape, to man, as his most intelligent
companion. Therefore we sacrifice it in highest

RECEPTION OF INDIAN CHIEFS. 185

honor to our friends in this world, — to our protect-
ing geniuses in another."

There was religion in that thought. The white
man sacrifices his own brother, and to Mammon, yet
he turns in loathing from the dog-feast.

" You say," said the Indian of the South to the
missionary, " that Christianity is pleasing to God.
How can that be ? — Those men at Savannah are
Christians."

Yes ! slave-drivers and Indian traders are called
Christians, and the Indian is to be deemed less like
the Son of Mary than they ! Wonderful is the de-
ceit of man's heart !

I have not, on seeing something of them in their
own haunts, found reason to change the sentiments
expressed in the following lines, when a deputation
of the Sacs and Foxes visited Boston in 1837, and
were, by one person at least, received in a dignified
and courteous manner.

GOVERNOR EVERETT RECEIVING THE INDIAN CHIEFS,

November, 1837.

Who says that Poesy is on the wane,
And that the Muses tune their lyres in vain?
'Mid all the treasures of romantic story,
When thought was fresh and fancy in her glory,
Has ever Art found out a richer theme,
More dark a shadow, or more soft a gleam,
Than fall upon the scene, sketched carelessly,
In the newspaper column of to-day ?
16*

186 SUMMER ON THE LAKES*

American romance is somewhat stale.

Talk of the hatchet, and the faces pale,

Wampum and calumets and forests dreary,

Once so attractive, now begins to weary.

Uncas and Magawisca please us still,

Unreal, yet idealized with skill ;

But every poetaster scribbling wTitling,

From the majestic oak his stylus whittling,

Has helped to tire us, and to make us fear

The monotone in which so much we hear

Of " stoics of the wood," and " men without a tear."

Yet Nature, ever buoyant, ever young,

If let alone, will sing as erst she sung ;

The course of circumstance gives back again

The Picturesque, erewhile pursued in vain ;

Shows us the fount of Romance is not wasted —

The lights and shades of contrast not exhausted.

Shorn of his strength, the Samson now must sue
For fragments from the feast his fathers gave,
The Indian dare not claim what is his due,

But as a boon his heritage must crave ;
His stately form shall soon be seen no more
Through all his father's land, th' Atlantic shore,
Beneath the sun, to us so kind, they melt,
More heavily each day our rule is felt ;
The tale is old, — we do as mortals must :
Might makes right here, but God and Time are just.

So near the drama hastens to its close,
On this last scene awhile your eyes repose ;
The polished Greek and Scythian meet again,
The ancient life is lived by modern men —

RECEPTION OF INDIAN CHIEFS. 187

The savage through our busy cities walks, —

He in his untouched grandeur silent stalks.

Unmoved by all our gaieties and shows,

Wonder nor shame can touch him as he goes ;

He gazes on the marvels we have wrought,

But knows the models from whence all was brought;

In God's first temples he has stood so oft,

And listened to the natural organ loft —

lias watched the eagle's ilijrht, the muttering thunder

heard,
Art cannot move him to a wondering word ;
Perhaps he sees that all this luxury
Brings less food to the mind than to the eye ;
Perhaps a simple sentiment has brought
More to him than your arts had ever taught.
What are the petty triumphs Art has given,
To eyes familiar with the naked heaven?

All has been seen — dock, railroad, and canal,
Fort, market, bridge, college, and arsenal,
Asylum, hospital, and cotton mill,
The theatre, the lighthouse, and the jail.
The Braves each novelty, reflecting, saw,
And now and then growled out the earnest yaw.
And now the time is come, 'tis understood,
When, having seen and thought so much, a talk may do
some good.

A well-dressed mob have thronged the sight to greet,
And in. it ley figures throng the spacious street ;
M;ijestical and calm through all they stride,
AVearincr the blanket with a monarch's pride ;
The gaz.ers stare and shrug, but can't deny
Their noble forms and blameless symmetry.

188 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

If the Great Spirit their morale has slighted,

And wigwam smoke their mental culture blighted,

Yet the physique, at least, perfection reaches,

In wilds where neither Combe nor Spursheim teaches ;

Where whispering trees invite man to the chase,

And bounding deer allure him to the race.

Would thou hadst seen it ! That dark, stately band,

Whose ancestors enjoyed all this fair land,

Whence they, by force or fraud, were made to flee,

Are brought, the white man's victory to see.

Can kind emotions in their proud hearts glow,

As through these realms, now decked by Art, they go ?

The church, the school, the railroad and the mart —

Can these a pleasure to their minds impart?

All once was theirs — earth, ocean, forest, sky —

How can they joy in what now meets the eye ?

Not yet Religion has unlocked the soul,

Nor Each has learned to glory in the Whole !

Must they not think, so strange and sad their lot,
That they by the Great Spirit are forgot 1
From the far border to which they are driven,
They might look up in trust to the clear heaven ;
But here — what tales doth every object tell
Where Massasoit sleeps — where Philip fell !

We take our turn, and the Philosopher
Sees through the clouds a hand which cannot err,
An unimproving race, with all their graces
And all their vices, must resign their places ;
And Human Culture rolls its onward flood
Over the broad plains steeped in Indian blood.

RECEPTION OF INDIAN CHIEFS. 189

Such thoughts steady our faith ; yet there will rise
Some natural tears into the calmest eves —
Which gaze where forest princes haughty go,
Made for a gnping crowd a raree show.

But this a scene seems where, in courtesy,
The pale face with the forest prince could vie,
For One presided, who, for tact and grace,
In any age had held an honored place, —
In Beauty's own dear day, had shone a polished Phidian
vase !

Oft have I listened to his accents bland,

And owned the magic of his silvery voice,
In all the traces which life's arts demand,
Delighted by the justness of his choice.
Not his the stream of lavish, fervid thought, —
The rhetoric by passion's magic wrought ;
Not his the massive style, the lion port,
Which with the granite class of mind assort;
But, in a range of excellence his own,
With all the charms to soft persuasion known,
Amid our busy people we admire him — " elegant and
lone."

He scarce needs words, so exquisite the skill

Which modulates the tones to do his will,

That the mere sound enough would charm the ear,

And lap in its Elysium all who hear.

The intellectual paleness of his cheek,

The heavy eyelids and slow, tranquil smile,
The well cut lips from which the graces speak,

Fit him alike to win or to beguile;
Then those words so well chosen, fit, though few,

190 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

Their linked sweetness as our thoughts pursue,

We deem them spoken pearls, or radiant diamond dew.

And never yet did I admire the power

Which makes so lustrous every threadbare theme —
Which won for Lafayette one other hour,

And e'en on July Fourth could cast a gleam —
As now, when I behold him play the host,
With all the dignity which red men boast —
With all the courtesy the whites have lost ; —
Assume the very hue of savage mind,
Yet in rude accents show the thought refined ; —
Assume the naivete of infant age,
And in such prattle seem still more a sage ;
The golden mean with tact unerring seized,
A courtly critic shone, a simple savage pleased;
The stoic of the woods his skill confessed,
As all the Father answered in his breast,
To the sure mark the silver arrow sped,
The man without a tear a tear has shed ;
And thou hadst wept, hadst thou been there, to see
How true one sentiment must ever be,
In court or camp, the city or the wild,
To rouse the Father's heart, you need but name his Child.

'T was a fair scene — : and acted well by all ;
So here 's a health to Indian braves so tall —
Our Governor and Boston people all !

I will copy the admirable speech of Governor Ev-
erett on that occasion, as I think it the happiest at-
tempt ever made to meet the Indian in his own way,
and catch the tone of his mind. It was said, in the

Everett's speech. 191

newspapers, that Keokuck did actually shed tears
when addressed as a father. If he did not with his
eyes, he well might in his heart.

EVERETT'S SPEECH.

Chiefs and warriors of the Sauks and Foxes, you
are welcome to our hall of council.

Brothers ! you have come a long way from home to
visit your white brethren ; we rejoice to take you by
the hand.

Brothers ! we have heard the names of your chiefs
and warriors ; our brothers, who have travelled into
the West, have told us a great deal of the Sauks and
Foxes ; we rejoice to see you with our own eyes, and
take you by the hand.

Brothers ! we are called the Massachusetts. This
is the name of the red men that once lived here.
Their wigwams filled yonder field ; their council fire
was kindled on this spot. They were of the same
great race as the Sauks and Misquakuiks.

Brothers ! when our fathers came over the great
waters, they were a small band. The red man stood
upon the rock by the seaside, and saw our fathers.
He might have pushed them into the water and
drowned them. But he stretched out his arm to our
fathers and said, " Welcome, white men ! " Our fa-
thers were hungry, and the red men gave them corn
and venison. Our fathers were cold, and the red man
wrapped them up in his blanket. We are now nu-
merous and powerful, but we remember the kindness

192 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

of the red man to our fathers. Brothers, you are
welcome ; we are glad to see you.

Brothers ! our faces are pale, and your faces are
dark ; but our hearts are alike. The Great Spirit
has made his children of different colors, but he loves
them all.

Brothers ! you dwell between the Mississippi and
the Missouri. They are mighty rivers. They have
one branch far East in the Alleghanies, and the
other far West in the Rocky Mountains ; but they
flow together at last into one great stream, and run
down together into the sea. In like manner, the red
man dwells in the West, and the white man in the
East, by the great waters ; but they are all one branch,
one family ; it has many branches and one head.

Brothers ! as you entered our council house, you
beheld the image of our great Father Washington.
It is a cold stone — it cannot speak. But he was the
friend of the red man, and bad his children live in
peace with their red brethren. He is gone to the
world of spirits. But his words have made a very
deep print in Our hearts, like the step of a strong buf-
falo on the soft clay of the prairie.

Brother ! I perceive your little son between your
knees. God preserve his life, my brother. He
grows up before you like the tender sapling by the
side of the mighty oak. May the oak and the sap-
ling flourish a long time together. And when the
mighty oak is fallen to the ground, may the young
tree fill its place in the forest, and spread out its
branches over the tribe like the parent trunk.

Brothers ! I make you a short talk, and again bid
you welcome to our council hall.

MISSIONARIES. 193

Not often have they been addressed with such
intelligence and tact. The few who have not ap-
proached them with sordid rapacity, but from love to
them, as men, and souls to be redeemed, have most
frequently been persons intellectually too narrow,
too straightly bound in sects or opinions, to throw
themselves into the character or position of the In-
dians, or impart to them anything they can make
available. The Christ shown them by these mis-
sionaries, is to them but a new and more powerful
Manito ; the signs of the new religion, but the fetiches
that have aided the conquerors.

Here I will copy some remarks made by a discern-
ing observer, on the methods used by the missionaries,
and their natural results.

" Mr. — and myself had a very interesting con-
versation, upon the subject of the Indians, their cha-
racter, capabilities, &c. After ten years' experience
among them, he was forced to acknowledge, that the
results of the missionary efforts had produced nothing
calculated to encourage. He thought that there
was an intrinsic disability in them, to rise above, or
go beyond the sphere in which they had so long
moved. He said, that even those Indians who had
been converted, and who had adopted the habits of
civilization, were very little improved in their real
character ; they were as selfish, as deceitful, and as
indolent, as those who were still heathens. They
had repaid the kindnesses of the missionaries with the
basest ingratitude, killing their cattle and swine, and
robbing them of their harvests, which they wantonly
destroyed. He had abandoned the idea of effecting

17

194 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

any general good to the Indians. He had conscien-
tious scruples, as to promoting an enterprise so hope-
less, as that of missions among the Indians, by send-
ing accounts to the east, that might induce philan-
thropic individuals to contribute to their support.
In fact, the whole experience of his intercourse with
them, seemed to have convinced him of the irreme-
diable degradation of the race. Their fortitude
under suffering, he considered the result of physical
and mental insensibility ; their courage, a mere ani-
mal excitement, which they found it necessary to in-
flame, before daring to meet a foe. They have no
constancy of purpose ; and are, in fact, but little su-
perior to the brutes, in point of moral development.
It is not astonishing, that one looking upon the In-
dian character, from Mr. — 's point of view, should
entertain such sentiments. The object of his inter-
course with them was, to make them apprehend the
mysteries of a theology, which, to the most enlight-
ened, is an abstruse, metaphysical study ; and it is
not singular they should prefer their pagan super-
stitions, which address themselves more directly to
the senses. Failing in the attempt to christianize,
before civilizing them, he inferred, that, in the intrin-
sic degradation of their faculties, the obstacle was to

be found."

Thus the missionary vainly attempts, by once or
twice holding up the cross, to turn deer and tigers
into lambs ; vainly attempts to convince the red man
that a heavenly mandate takes from him his broad
lands. He bows his head, but does not at heart ac-
quiesce. He cannot. It is not true ; and if it were,

OBSTACLES. 19")

the descent of blood through the same channels, for
centuries, had formed habits of thought not so easily
to be disturbed.

Amalgamation would afford the only true and pro-
found means of civilization. But nature seems, like
all else, to declare, that this race is fated to perish.
Those of mixed blood fade early, and are not gene-
rally a fine race. They lose what is best in either
type, rather than enhance the value of each, by
mingling. There are exceptions, one or two such I
know of, but this, it is said, is the general rule.

A traveller observes, that the white settlers, who
live in the woods, soon become sallow, lanky, and
dejected ; the atmosphere of the trees does not agree
with Caucasian lungs; and it is, perhaps, in part, an
instinct of this, which causes the hatred of the new
settlers towards trees. The Indian breathed the at-
mosphere of the forests freely ; he loved their shade.
As they are effaced from the land, he fleets too ; a
part of the same manifestation, which cannot linger
behind its proper era.

The Chippewas have lately petitioned the state of
Michigan, that they may be admitted as citizens;
but this would be vain, unless they could be admit-
ted, as brothers, to the heart of the white man. And
while the latter feels that conviction of superiority,
which enabled our Wisconsin friend to throw away
the gun, and send the Indian to fetch it, he had
need to be very good, and very wise, not to abuse
his position. But the white man, as yet, is a half-
tamed pirate, and avails himself, as much as ever, of
the maxim, " Might makes right." All that civili-

196 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

zation does for the generality, is to cover up this with
a veil of subtle evasions and chicane, and here and
there to rouse the individual mind to appeal to heaven
against it.

I have no hope of liberalizing the missionary, of
humanizing the sharks of trade, of infusing the con-
scientious drop into the flinty bosom of policy, of
saving the Indian from immediate degradation, and
speedy death. The whole sermon may be preached
from the text, " Needs be that offences must come,
yet wo them by whom they come." Yet, ere they
depart, I wish there might be some masterly attempt
to reproduce, in art or literature, what is proper to
them, a kind of beauty and grandeur, which few of
the every-day crowd have hearts to feel, yet which
ought to leave in the world its monuments, to inspire
the thought of genius through all ages. Nothing in
this kind has been done masterly ; since it was Cle-
vengers's ambition, 'tis pity he had not opportunity
to try fully his powers. We hope some other mind
may be bent upon it, ere too late.

At present the only lively impress of their passage
through the world is to be found in such books as
Catlin's and some stories told by the old travellers, of
which I purpose a brief account.

First, let me give another brief tale of the power
exerted by the white man over the savage in a trying
case, but, in this case, it was righteous, was moral
power.

" We were looking over McKenney's trip to the
Lakes, and, on observing the picture of Key- way -no-
wut, or the Going Cloud, Mr. B. observed " Ah, that

KEY-WAY-NO-WUT. 197

is the fellow I came near having a fight with," and he
detailed at length the circumstances. This Indian
was a very desperate character, and whom all the
Leech lake band stood in fear of. He would shoot
down any Indian who offended him, without the least
hesitation, and had become quite the bully of that part
of the tribe. The trader at Leech lake warned Mr.
B. to beware of him, and said that he once, when he
(the trader) refused to give up to him his stock of
wild rice, went and got his gun antl tomahawk, and
shook the tomahawk over his head, saying " Now,
give me your wild rice." .The trader complied with
his exaction, but not so did Mr. B. in the adventure
which I am about to relate. Key-way-no-wut came
frequently to him with furs, wishing him to give for
them cotton cloth, sugar, flour, &c. Mr. B. explain-
ed to him that he could not trade for furs, as he was
sent there as a teacher, and that it would be like put-
ting his hand into the fire to do so, as the traders
would inform against him, and he would be sent out
of the country. At the same time, he gave him the
articles which he wished. Key-way-no-wut found
this a very convenient way of getting what he wanted,
and followed up this sort of game, until, at last, it
became insupportable. One day the Indian brought
a very large otter skin, and said " I want to get for
this ten pounds of sugar, and some flour and cloth,"
adding; " I am not like other Indians, /want to pay
for what I get. Mr. B. found that he must either be
robbed of all he had by submitting to these exactions,
or take a stand at once. He thought, however, he
would try to avoid a scrape, and told his customer he

17*

198 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

had not so much sugar to spare. " Give me then/'
said he, " what you can spare," and Mr. B. thinking
to make him back out, told him he would give him
five pounds of sugar for his skin. " Take it," said
the Indian. He left the skin, telling Mr. B. to take
good care of it. Mr. B. took it at once to the trader's
store, and related the circumstance, congratulating
himself that he had got rid of the Indian's exactions.
But, in about a month, Key-way-no-wut appeared
bringing some dirty Indian sugar, and said " I have
brought back the sugar that I borrowed of you, and I
want my otter skin back." Mr. B. told him, " I
bought an otter skin of you, but if you will return
the other articles you have got for it, perhaps I can
get it for you." " Where is the skin?" said he very
quickly, " what have you done with it ?" Mr. B.
replied it was in the trader's store, where he (the
Indian) could not get it. At this information he was
furious, laid his hands on his knife and tomahawk,
and commanded Mr. B. to bring it at once. Mr. B.
found this was the crisis, where he must take a stand
or be " rode over rough shod " by this man ; his wife,
who was present was much alarmed, and begged he
would get the skin for the Indian, but he told her
that " either he or the Indian would soon be master
of his house, and if she was afraid to see it decided
which was to be so, she had better retire." He turn-
ed to Key-way-no-wut, and addressed him in a stern
voice as follows : " I will not give you the skin.
How often have you come to my house, and I have
shared with you what I had. I gave you tobacco
when you were well, and medicine when you were

INDIAN ORATOR. 199

sick, and you never went away from my wigwam with
your hands empty. And this is the way you return
my treatment to you. I had thought you were a man
and a chief, but you are not, you are nothing but an
old woman. Leave tl lis house, and never enter it
again." Mr. B. said he expected the Indian would
attempt his life when he said this, but that he had
placed himself in a position so that he could defend
himself, and he looked straight into the Indian's eye,
and like other wild beasts he quailed before the glance
of mental and moral courage. He calmed down at
once, and soon began to make apologies. Mr. B.
then told him kindly, but firmly, that, if he wished
to walk in the same path with him, he must walk as
straight as the crack 'on the floor before them ; adding
that he would not walk with anybody who would
jostle him by walking so crooked as he had done.
He was perfectly tamed, and Mr. B. said he never
had any more trouble with him."

The conviction here livingly enforced of the supe-
riority on the side of the white man, was thus ex-
pressed by the Indian orator at Mackinaw while we
were there. After the customary compliments about
sun, dew, &c, " This," said he, " is the difference
between the white and the red man ; the white man
looks to the future and paves the way for posterity."
This is a statement uncommonly refined for an In-
dian ; but one of the gentlemen present, who under-
stood the Chippeway, vouched for it as a literal
rendering of his phrases ; and he did indeed touch
the vital point of difference. But the Indian, if he
understands, cannot make use of his intelligence.

200 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

The fate of his people is against it, and Pontiac and
Philip have no more chance, than Julian in the times
of old.

Now that I am engaged on this subject, let me
give some notices of writings upon it, read either at
Mackinaw or since my return.

Mrs. Jameson made such good use of her brief
visit to these regions, as leaves great cause to regret
she did not stay longer and go farther ; also, that she
did not make more use of her acquaintance with, in-
deed, adoption by, the Johnson family. Mr. John-
son seems to have been almost the only white man
who knew how to regard with due intelligence and
nobleness, his connexion with the race. Neither
French or English, of any povvers of sympathy, or
poetical apprehension, have. lived among, the Indians
without high feelings of enjoyment. Perhaps no
luxury has been greater, than that experienced by
the persons, who, sent either by trade or war, during
the last century, into these majestic regions, found
guides and shelter amid the children of the soil, and
recognized in a form so new and of such varied, yet
simple, charms, the tie of brotherhood.

But these, even Sir William Johnston, wThose life,
surrounded by the Indians in his castle on the Mo-
hawk, is described with such vivacity by Mrs. Grant,
have been men better fitted to enjoy and adapt them-
selves to this life, than to observe and record it. The
very faculties that made it so easy for them to live in
the present moment, were likely to unfit them for
keeping its chronicle. Men, whose life is full and in-
stinctive, care little for the pen. But the father of

MRS. SCHOOLCRAFT. 201

Mrs. Schoolcraft seems to have taken pleasure in ob-
servation and comparison, and to have imparted the
same tastes to his children. They have enough of
European culture to have a standard, by which to
judge their native habits and inherited lore.

By the premature death of Mrs. Schoolcraft was
lost a mine of poesy, to which few had access, and
from which Mrs. Jameson would have known how to
coin a series of medals for the history of this ancient
people. We might have known in clear outline, as
now we shall not, the growths of religion and philos-
ophy, under the influences of this climate and scenery,
from such suggestions as nature and the teachings
of the inward mind presented.

Now we can only gather that they had their own
theory of the history of this globe ; had perceived a
gap in its genesis, and tried to fill it up by the inter-
vention of some secondary power, with moral sym-
pathies. They have observed the action of fire and
water upon this earth ; also that the dynasty of
animals has yielded to that of man. With these
animals they have profound sympathy, and are
always trying to restore to them their lost honors.
On the rattlesnake, the beaver, and the bear, they
seem to look with a mixture of sympathy and vener-
ation, as on their fellow settlers in these realms.
There is something that appeals powerfully to the
imagination in the ceremonies they observe, even in
case of destroying one of these animals. I will say
more of this by-and-by.

The dog they cherish as having been once a spirit
of high intelligence ; and now in its fallen and im-

202 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

prisoned state, given to man as his special companion.
He is therefore to them a sacrifice of peculiar worth :
whether to a guardian spirit or a human friend. Yet
nothing would be a greater violation than giving the
remains of a sacrificial feast to the dogs, or even
suffering them to touch the bones.

Similar inconsistences may be observed in the
treatment of the dog by the white man. He is the
most cherished companion in the familiar walks of
many men ; his virtues form the theme of poetry
and history ; the nobler races present grand traits,
and are treated with proportionate respect. Yet the
epithets dog and hound, are there set apart to express
the uttermost contempt.

Goethe, who abhorred dogs, has selected that ani-
mal for the embodiment of the modern devil, who, in
earlier times, chose rather the form of the serpent.

There is, indeed, something that peculiarly
breaks in on the harmony of nature, in the bark
of the dog, and that does not at all correspond
with the softness and sagacity observable in his
eye. The baying the moon, I have been inclined
to set down as an unfavorable indication ; but,
since Fourier has found out that the moon is dead,
and "no better than carrion;" and the Greeks have
designated her as Hecate, the deity of suicide and
witchcraft, the dogs are perhaps in the right.

They have among them the legend of the car-
buncle, so famous in oriental mythos. Adair states
that they believe this fabulous gem may be found on
the spot where the rattlesnake has been destroyed.

If they have not the archetypal man, they have the

MUCKWA. 203

archetypal animal, " the grandfather of all beavers;"
to tlienij who do not know the elephant, this is the
symbol of wisdom, as the rattlesnake and boar of
power.

I will insert here a little tale about the bear, which
has not before appeared in print, as representing
their human way of looking on these animals, even
when engaged in their pursuit To me such stories
give a fine sense of the lively perceptions and exer-
cise of fancy, enjoyed by them in their lives of wood-
craft :

MUCKWA, OR THE HEAR.

A voting Indian, who lived a great while ago, when
he was quite young killed a bear ; and the tribe from
that circumstance called him Muckwa. As lie grew
up he became an expert hunter, and his favorite game
was the bear, many of which he killed. . One day he
started oil* to a river far remote from the lodges of his
tribe, and where berries and grapes were very plenty,
in pursuit of bears. He hunted all day but found
nothing ; and just at night he came to some lodges
which he thought to be those of some of his tribe.
He approached the largest of them, lifted the curtain
at its entrance, and went in, when he perceived the
inmates to be bears, who were seated around the
fire smoking. He said nothing, but seated himself
also and smoked the pipe which they offered him,
in silence. An old grey bear, who was the chief,
ordered supper to be brought for him, and after he had
eaten it, addressed him as follows : u My son, I am
glad to see you come among us in a friendly manner.
You have been a great hunter, and all the she-bears

204 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

of our tribe tremble when they hear your name. But
cease to trouble us, and come and live with me ; we
have a very pleasant life, living upon the fruits of the
earth ; and in the winter, instead of being obliged to
hunt and travel through the deep snow, we sleep
soundly until the sun unchains the streams, and
makes the tender buds put forth for our subsistence.
I will give you my daughter for a wife, and we will
live happily together." Muckwa was inclined to
accept the old bear's offer ; but when he saw the
daughter, who came and took off his wet moccasons,
and gave him dry ones, he thought that he had never
seen any Indian woman so beautiful. He accepted
the offer of the chief of the bears, and lived with his
wife very happily for some time. He had by her two
sons, one of whom was like an Indian, and the other
like a bear. When the bear-child was oppressed
with heat, his mother would take him into the deep
cool caves, while the Indian-child would shiver with .
cold, and cry after her in vain. As the autumn ad-
vanced, the bears began to go out in search of acorns,
and then the she-bear said to Muckwa, " Stay at home
here and watch our house, while I go to gather some
nuts." She departed and was gone for some days
with her people. By-and-by Muckwa became tired
of staying at home, and thought that he would go
off to a distance and resume his favorite bear-hunting.
He accordingly started off, and at last came to a grove
of lofty oaks, which were full of large acorns. He
found signs of bear, and soon espied a fat she-bear
on the top of a tree. He shot at her with a good
aim, and she fell, pierced by his unerring arrow. He

MUCKWA. *205

went up to her, and found it was his sister-in-law,
who reproached him with his cruelty, and told him
to return to his own people. Muckwa returned
quietly home, and pretended not to have left his
lodge. However, the old chief understood, and was
disposed to kill him in revenge ; but his wife found
means to avert her father's anger. The winter
season now coming on, Muckwa prepared to accom-
pany his wife into winter quarters ; they selected a
large tamarack tree, which was hollow, and lived
there comfortably until a party of hunters discovered
their retreat. The she-bear told Muckwa to remain
quietly in the tree, and that she would decoy off the
hunters She came out of the hollow, jumped from
a bough of the tree, and escaped unharmed, although
the hunters shot after her. Some time after, she re-
turned to the tree, and told Muckwa that he had
better go back to his own people. " Since you have
lived among us," said she, " we have nothing but ill-
fortune ; you have killed my sister ; and now your
friends have followed your footsteps to our retreats to
kill us. The Indian and the bear cannot live in the
same lodge, for the Master of Life has appointed for
them different habitations." So Muckwa returned
with his son to his own people ; but he never after
would shoot a she-bear, for fear that he should kill
his wife."

I admire this story for the savoir J'aire, the non-
chalance, the Vivian Grevism of Indian life. It is
also a poetical expression of the sorrows of unequal
relations ; those in which the Master of Lil«' was not
consulted. Is it not pathetic ; the picture of the

18

206 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

mother carrying off the child that was like herself into
the deep, cool caves, while the other, shivering with
cold, cried after her in vain ? The moral, too, of
Muckwa's return to the bear lodges, thinking to hide
his sin by silence, while it was at once discerned by
those connected with him, is fine.

We have a nursery tale, of which children never
weary, of a little boy visiting a bear house and hold-
ing intercourse with them on terms as free as Muck-
wa did. So, perhaps, the child of Norman-Saxon
blood, no less than the Indian, finds some pulse of the
Orson in his veins.

As they loved to draw the lower forms of nature
up to them, divining their histories, and imitating
their ways, in their wild dances and paintings ; even
so did they love to look upward and people the at-
mosphere that enfolds the earth, with fairies and
manitoes. The sister, obliged to leave her brother
on the earth, bids him look up at evening, and he
will see her painting her face in the west.

All places, distinguished in any way by nature,
aroused the feelings of worship, which, however
ignorant, are always elevating. See as instances in
this kind, the stories of Nanabojou, and the Winne-
bago Prince, at the falls of St. Anthony.

As with the Greeks, beautiful legends grow up
which express the aspects of various localities.
From the distant sand-banks in the lakes, glitter-
ing in the sun, come stories of enchantresses comb-
ing, on the shore, the long golden hair of a beauti-
ful daughter. The Lorelei of the Rhine, with her
syren song, and the sad events that follow, is found
on the lonely rocks of Lake Superior.

THE YOUNG WARRIOR. 207

The story to which I now refer, may be found in
a book called Life on the Lakes, or, a Trip to the
Pictured Rocks. There are two which purport to be
Indian tales ; one is simply a romantic narrative, con-
nected with a spot at Mackinaw, called Robinson's
Folly. This, no less than the other, was unknown
to those persons I saw on the island ; but as they
seem entirely beyond the powers of the person who
writes them down, and the other one has the profound
and original meaning of Greek tragedy, I believe they
must be genuine legends.

The one I admire is the story of a young warrior,
who goes to keep, on these lonely rocks, the fast
which is to secure him vision of his tutelary spirit.
There the loneliness is broken by the voice of sweet
music from the water. The Indian knows well that
to break the fast, which is the crisis of his life, by
turning his attention from seeking the Great Spirit,
to any lower object, will deprive him through life of
heavenly protection, probably call down the severest
punishment.

But the temptation is too strong for him ; like the
victims of the Lorelei, he looks, like them beholds a
maiden of unearthly beauty, to him the harbinger of
earthly wo.

The development of his fate, that succeeds ; of
love, of heart-break, of terrible revenge, which back
upon itself recoils, may vie with anything I have
ever known of stern tragedy, is altogether unlike
any other form, and with all the peculiar expression
we see lurking in the Indian eye. The demon is
not frightful and fantastic, like those that haunt the

208 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

German forest ; but terribly human, as if of full
manhood, reared in the shadow of the black forests.
An Indian sarcasm vibrates through it, which, with
Indian fortitude, defies the inevitable torture.

The Indian is steady to that simple creed, which
forms the basis of all this mythology ; that there is a
God, and a life beyond this; a right and wrong which
each man can see, betwixt which each man should
choose ; that good brings with it its reward and vice
its punishment. Their moral code, if not refined as
that of civilized nations, is clear and noble in the
stress laid upon truth and fidelity. And all unpreju-
diced observers bear testimony that the Indians, un-
til broken from their old anchorage by intercourse
with the whites, who offer them, instead, a religion of
which they furnish neither interpretation nor exam-
ple, were singularly virtuous, if virtue be allowed to
consist in a man's acting up to his own ideas of right.

Old Adair, who lived forty years among the In-
dians ; not these tribes, indeed, but the southern In-
dians, does great justice to their religious aspiration.
He is persuaded that they are Jews, and his main ob-
ject is to identify their manifold ritual, and customs
connected with it, with that of the Jews. His narra-
tive contains much that is worthless, and is written in
the most tedious manner of the folios. But his devo-
tion to the records of ancient Jewry, has really given
him power to discern congenial traits elsewhere, and
for the sake of what he has expressed of the noble
side of Indian character, we pardon him our having
to wade through so many imbecilities.

An infidel, he says, is, in their language, " one

OLD ADAIR. 209

who has shaken hands with the accursed speech ; " a
reliirious man, "one who lias shaken hands with the
beloved speech." If this be a correct definition, we
could wish Adair more religious.

He gives a fine account of their methods of puri-
fication. These show a dee}) reliance on the sus-
taining Spirit. By fasting and prayer they make
ready for all important decisions and actions. Even
for the war path, on which he is likely to endure
such privations, the brave prepares by a solemn fast.
His reliance is on the spirit in which he goes forth.

We may contrast with the opinion of the mission-
ary, as given on a former page, the testimony of one,
who knew them as Adair did, to their heroism under
torture.

He gives several stories, illustrative both of their
courage, fortitude, and resource in time of peril, of
which I will cite only the two first.

" The Shawano Indians took a Muskohgc warrior,
known by the name of " Old Scrany ;" they bastina-
doed him in the usual manner, and condemned him
to the fiery torture. He underwent a great deal,
without showing any concern ; his countenance and
behavior were as if he sutlercd not the least pain, and
was formed beyond the common laws of nature. He
told them, with a bold voice, that he was a very no-
ted warrior, and gained most of his martial prefer-
ments at the expense of their nation, and was desir-
ous of showing them in the act of dying that he was
still as much their superior, as when he headed his
gallant countrymen against them. That, although he
had fallen into their hands, in forfeiting the protection

18*

210 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

of the divine power, by some impurity or other, yet
he had still so much virtue remaining, as would ena-
ble him to punish himself more exquisitely than all
their despicable, ignorant crowd could possibly do,
if they gave him liberty by untying him, and would
hand to him one of the red hot gun-barrels out of the
fire. The proposal, and his method of address, ap-
peared so exceedingly bold and uncommon, that his
request was granted. Then he suddenly seized one
end of the red hot barrel, and, brandishing it from
side to side, he found his way through the armed and
surprised multitude, and leaped down a prodigious
steep and high bank into a branch of the river, dived
through it, ran over a small island, passed the other
branch amidst a shower of bullets, and, though num-
bers of his eager enemies were in close pursuit of
him, he got to a bramble swamp, and in that naked,
mangled condition, reached his own country. He
proved a sharp thorn in their side afterwards, to the
day of his death.

The Shawano also captivated a warrior of the
Anantooiah, and put him to the stake, according to
their usual cruel solemnities. Having unconcernedly
suffered much sharp torture, he told them with scorn,
they did not know how to punish a noted enemy,
therefore he was willing to teach them, and would
confirm the truth of his assertion, if they allowed him
the opportunity. Accordingly he requested of them
a pipe and some tobacco, which was given him ; as
soon as he lighted it, he sat down, naked as he was,
on the women's burning torches, that were within his
circle, and continued smoking his pipe without the

OLD ADAIR. 211

least discomposure. On this a head warrior leaped
up, and said they had scon, plain enough, that lie was
a warrior, and not afraid of dying ; nor should he have
died, but that he was both spoiled by the fire, and
devoted to it by their laws ; however, though he was
a very dangerous enemy, and his nation a treacherous
people, it should appear they paid a regard to
bravery, even in one, who was marked over the body
with war streaks at the cost of many lives of their
beloved kindred. And then, by way of favor, he,
with his friendly tomahawk, put an end to all his
pains : though this merciful but bloody instrument
was ready some minutes before it gave the blow, yet,
I was assured, the spectators could not perceive the
sufferer to change, either his posture, or his steady,
erect countenance in the least."

Some stones as fine, but longer, follow. In re-
ference to which Adair says. M The intrepid behavior
of these rod stoics, their surprising contempt of and
indifference to life or death, instead of lessening,
helps to confirm our belief of that supernatural power,
which supported the great number of primitive mar-
tyrs, who sealed the christian faith with their blood.
The Indians have BS much belief and expectation of
a future state, as the greater part of the Israelites
seem to have. But the christians of the first centu-
ries, may justly !>•• said to exceed even the most he-
roic American Indians, for they bore the bitterest
persecution with steady patience, in imitation of their
divine leader Messiah, in full confidence of divine
support and of a glorious recompense of reward ;
and, instead of even wishing for revenge on their

212 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

cruel enemies and malicious tormentors, (which is
the chief principle that actuates the Indians,) they
not only forgave them, but, in the midst of their tor-
tures, earnestly prayed for them, with composed
countenances, sincere love, and unabated fervor. And
not only men of different conditions, but the delicate
women and children suffered with constancy, and
died praying for their tormentors : the Indian women
and children, and their young men untrained to war,
are incapable of displaying the like patience and
magnanimity."

Thus impartially looks the old trader. I meant
to have inserted other passages, that of the encamp-
ment at Yowanne, and the horse race to which he
challenged them, to show how well he could convey
in his garrulous fashion the whole presence of Indian
life. That of Yowanne, especially, takes my fancy
much, by its wild and subtle air, and the old-nurse
fashion in which every look and gesture is detailed.
His enjoyment, too, at outwitting the Indians in their
own fashion is contagious. There is a fine history
of a young man driven by a presentiment to run
upon his death. But I find, to copy these stories, as
they stand, would half fill this little book, and com-
pression wrould spoil them, so I must wait some
other occasion.

The story, later, of giving an Indian liquid fire to
swallow, I give at full length, to show how a kind-
hearted man and one well disposed towards them,
can treat them, and view his barbarity as a joke.
It is not then so much wonder, if the trader, with
this s me feeling that they may be treated, (as how-

DEATH OF RED SHOES. 213

ever brutes should not be.) brutally, mixes red pepper
and damaged tobacco with the rum, intending in
their fever to fleece them of all they possess.

Like Murray and Henry, he has his great Indian
chief, who represents what the people should be, as
Pericles and Phocion what the Greek people should
be. If we are entitled to judge by its best fruits
of the goodness of the tree, Adair's Red Shoes, and
Henry's Wawatam, should make us respect the first
possessors of our country, and doubt whether we are
in all ways worthy to fill their place. Of the whole
tone of character, judgment may be formed by what
is said of the death of Red Shoes.

" This chief, by his several transcendent qualities
had arrived at the highest pitch of the red glory. . . .

He was murdered, for the sake of a French re-
ward, by one of his own countrymen. He had the
misfortune to be taken very sick on the road, and to
lodge apart from the camp, according to their custom.
A Judas, tempted by the high reward of the French
for killing him, officiously pretended to take great
care of him. While Red Shoes kept his face toward
him, the barbarian had such feelings of awe and pity
that he had not power to perpetrate his wicked de-
sign ; but when he turned his back, then gave the
fatal shot. In this manner fell this valuable brave
man, by hands that would have trembled to attack
him on an equality."

Adair, with all his sympathy for the Indian, mixes
quite unconsciously some white man's views of the
most decided sort. For instance, he recommends that
the tribes be stimulated as much as possible to war

214 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

with each other, that they may the more easily and
completely be kept under the dominion of the whites,
and he gives the following record of brutality as quite
a jocose and adroit procedure.

" I told him, on his importuning me further, that I
had a full bottle of the water of am hoome, " bitter
ears," meaning long pepper, of which he was igno-
rant. We were of opinion that his eager thirst for
liquor, as well as his ignorance of the burning quality
of the pepper, would induce the bacchanal to try it.
He accordingly applauded my generous disposition,
and said his heart had all along told him I would not
act beneath the character I bore among his country
people. The bottle was brought, I laid it on the ta-
ble, and then told him, as he was spitting very much,
(a general custom among the Indians when they are
eager for anything,) if I drank it all at one sitting it
would cause me to spit in earnest, as I used it only
when I ate, and then very moderately ; but though I
loved it, if his heart was very poor for it, I should be
silent, and not the least grudge him for pleasing his
mouth. He said, < your heart is honest, indeed ; I
thank you, for it is good to my heart, and makes it
greatly to rejoice.' Without any further ceremony
he seized the bottle, uncorked it, and swallowed a
large quantity of the burning liquid, till he was near-
ly strangled. He gasped for a considerable time, and
as soon as he recovered his breath, he said Hah, and
soon after kept stroking his throat with his right
hand. When the violence of this burning draught
was pretty well over, he began to nourish away in
praise of the strength of the liquor and bounty of

INDIAN CUSTOMS. 215

the giver. He then went to his companion and held
the liquor to his mouth according to custom, till he
took several hearty swallows. This Indian seemed
rather more sensible of its fiery quality than the other,
for it suffocated him for a considerable time ; but as
soon as he recovered his breath, he tumbled about
the floor like a drunken person. In this manner they
finished the whole bottle, into which two others had
been decanted. The burning liquor so highly in-
flamed their bodies, that one of the Choctaws, to cool
his inward parts, drank water till he almost burst ;
the other, rather than bear the ridicule of the people,
and the inward fire that distracted him, drowned him-
self the second night after in a broad and shallow

clay hole

There was an incident similar, which happened
among the Cherokees. When all the liquor was ex-
pended the Indians went home, leading with them, at
my request, those that were drunk. One, however,
soon came back, and earnestly importuned me for
more Nawahti, which signifies both physic and spirit-
uous liquor. They, as they are now become great
liars, suspect all others of being infected with their
own disposition and principles. The more I excused
myself, the more anxious he grew, so as to become
oflensive. I then told him I had only one quarter of
a bottle of strong physic, which sick people might
drink in small quantities, for the cure of inward
pains : and, laying it down before him, I declared I
did not on any account choose to part with it, but as
his speech had become very long and troublesome, he
might do just as his heart directed him concerning it.

216 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

He took it up, saying, his heart was very poor for
physic, but he would cure it, and make it quite
straight. The bottle contained three gills of strong
spirits of turpentine, which, in a short time he drank
off. Such a quantity would have demolished me or
any white person. The Indians, in general, are
either capable of suffering exquisite pain longer than
we are, or of showing more constancy and compo-
sure in their torments. The troublesome visiter soon
tumbled down and foamed prodigiously. I then sent
for some of his relations to carry him home. They
came ; I told them he drank greedily, and too much
of the physic. They said, it was his usual custom,
when the red people bought the English physic. They
gave him a decoction of proper herbs and roots, the
next day sweated him, repeated the former draught,
and he got well. As these turpentine spirits did not
inebriate him, but only inflamed his intestines, he
well remembered the burning quality of my favorite
physic, and cautioned the rest from ever teasing me
for any physic I had concealed in any sort of bottles
for my own use ; otherwise they might be sure it
would spoil them like the eating of fire."

We are pleased to note that the same white man,
who so resolutely resisted the encroachments of Key-
way-no-wut, devised a more humane expedient in a
similar dilemma.

" Mr. B. told me that, when he first went into the
Indian country, they got the taste of his peppermint,
and, after that, colics prevailed among them to an
alarming extent, till Mrs. B. made a strong decoction
of flagroot, and gave them in place of their favorite

CARVER. 217

medicine. This effected, as might be supposed, a
radical cure."

I am inclined to recommend Adair to the patient
reader, if such may be found in these United States,
with the assurance that, if he will have tolerance for
its intolerable prolixity and dryness, he will find, on
rising from the book, that he has partaken of an in-
fusion of real Indian bitters, such as may not be
drawn from any of the more attractive memoirs on
the same subject.

Another book of interest, from its fidelity and can-
did spirit, though written without vivacity, and by a
person neither of large mind nor prepared for various
inquiry, is Carver's Travels, " for three years through-
out the interior parts of America, for more than five
thousand miles."

He set out from Boston in " June, 1786, and pro-
ceeded, by way of Albany and Niagara, to Michili-
mackinac, a fort situated between the Lakes Huron
and Michigan, and distant from Boston 1300 miles."

It is interesting to follow his footsteps in these lo-
calities, though they be not bold footsteps.

He mentions the town of the Sacs, on the Wiscon-
sin, as the largest and best built he saw, " com-
posed of ninety houses, each large enough for several
families. These are built of hewn plank, neatly
jointed, and covered with bark so compactly as to
keep out the most penetrating rains. Before the
doors are placed comfortable sheds, in which the in-
habitants sit, when the weather will permit, and
smoke their pipes. The streets are regular and spa-
19

218 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

cious. In their plantations, which lie adjacent to
their houses, and which are neatly laid out, they raise
great quantities of Indian corn, beans and melons."

Such settlements compare very well with those
which were found on the Mohawk. It was of such
that the poor Indian was thinking, whom our host
saw gazing on the shore of Nomabbin lake.

He mentions the rise and fall of the lake-waters,
by a tide of three feet, once in seven years, — a phe-
nomenon not yet accounted for.

His view of the Indian character is truly impartial.
He did not see it so fully drawn out by circumstances
as Henry did, (of whose narrative we shall presently
speak,) but we come to similar results from the two
witnesses. They are in every feature Romans, as de-
scribed by Carver, and patriotism their leading im-
pulse. He deserves the more credit for the justice
he is able to do them, that he had undergone the
terrors of death at their hands, when present at the
surrender of one of the forts, and had seen them in
that mood which they express by drinking the blood
and eating the hearts of their enemies, yet is able to
understand the position of their minds, and allow for
their notions of duty.

No selfish views, says he, influence their advice, or
obstruct their consultations.

Let me mention here the use they make of their
vapor baths. " When about to decide on some im-
portant measure, they go into them, thus cleansing
the skin and carrying off any peccant humors, so that
the body may, as little as possible, impede the mind
by any ill conditions."

CARVER. 219

They prepare the bath for one another when any
arrangement is to be made between families, on the
opposite principle to the whites, who make them
drunk before bargaining with them. The bath serves
them instead of a cup of coffee, to stimulate the think-
ing powers.

He mentions other instances of their kind of deli-
cacy, which, if different from ours, was, perhaps,
more rigidly observed.

Lovers never spoke of love till the daylight was
quite gone.

" If an Indian goes to visit any particular person in
a family, he mentions for whom his visit is intended,
and the rest of the family, immediately retiring to the
other end of the hut or tent, are careful not to come
near enough to interrupt them during the whole of
the conversation."

In cases of divorce, which was easily obtained, the
advantage rested with the woman. The reason given
is indeed contemptuous toward her, but a chivalric
direction is given to the contempt.

" The children of the Indians arc always distin-
guished by the name of the mother, and, if a woman
marries several husbands, and has issue by each of
them, they are called after her. The reason they
give for this is, that, t as their offspring are indebted
to the father for the soul, the invisible part of their
essence, and to the mother for their corporeal and ap-
parent part, it is most rational that they should be
distinguished by the name of the latter, from whom
they indubitably derive their present being.'

This is precisely the division of functions made by

220 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

Ovid, as the father sees Hercules perishing on the
funeral pyre.

" Nee nisi materna Vulcairum parte potentem
Sentiet. JEternum est a me quod traxit et expers
Atque immune necis, nuliaqe domabile flamma."

He is not enough acquainted with natural history
to make valuable observations. He mentions, how-
ever, as did my friend, the Indian girl, that those
splendid flowers, the Wickapee and the root of the
Wake-Robin, afford valuable medicines. Here, as
in the case of the Lobelia, nature has blazoned her
drug in higher colors than did ever quack doctor.

He observes some points of resemblance between
the Indians and Tartars, but they are trivial, and not
well considered. He mentions that the Tartars have
the same custom, with some of these tribes, of shaving
all the head except a tuft on the crown. Catlin says
this is intended to afford a convenient means by
which to take away the scalp ; for they consider it
a great disgrace to have the foeman neglect this, as if
he considered the conquest, of which the scalp is the
certificate, no addition to his honors.

" The Tartars," he says, " had a similar custom of
sacrificing the dog ; and among the Kamschatkans
was a dance resembling the dog-dance of our In-
dians."

My friend, who joined me at Mackinaw, happened,
on the homeward journey, to see a little Chinese
girl, who had been sent over by one of the missions,
and observed that, in features, complexion, and
gesture, she was a counterpart to the little Indian

HENRY. 221

girls she had just seen playing about on the lake
shore.

The parentage of these tribes is still an interest-
ing subject of speculation, though, if they be not
created for this region, they have become so assimi-
lated to it as to retain little trace of any other. To
me it seems most probable, that a peculiar race was
bestowed on each region, as the lion on one latitude
and the white bear on another. As man has two na-
tures— one, like that of the plants and animals,
adapted to the uses and enjoyments of this planet,
another, which presages and demands a higher sphere
— he is constantly breaking bounds, in proportion as
the mental gets the better of the mere instinctive ex-
istence. As yet, he loses in harmony of being what
he gains in height and extension ; the civilized man
is a larger mind, but a more imperfect nature than
the savage.

It is pleasant to meet, on the borders of these two
states, one of those persons who combines some of
the good qualities of both ; not, as so many of these
adventurers do, the rapaciousness and cunning of the
white, with the narrowness and ferocity of the sav-
age, but the sentiment and thoughtl'ulness of the one,
with the boldness, personal resource, and fortitude of
the other.

Such a person was Alexander Henry, who left
Quebec in 1760, for Mackinaw and the Sault St.
Marie, and remained in those regions, of which he
has given us a most lively account, sixteen years.

His visit to Mackinaw was premature ; the Indians
were far from satisfied ; they hated their new inas-

19*

222 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

ters. From the first, the omens were threatening,
and before many months passed, the discontent ended
in the seizing of the fort at Mackinaw and massacre
of its garrison ; on which occasion Henry's life was
saved by a fine act of Indian chivalry.

Wawatam, a distinguished chief, had found him-
self drawn, by strong affinity, to the English stranger.
He had adopted him as a brother, in the Indian mode.
When he found that his tribe had determined on the
slaughter of the whites, he obtained permission to
take Henry away with him, if he could. But not
being able to prevail on him, as he could not assign
the true reasons, he went away deeply saddened, but
not without obtaining a promise that his brother
should not be injured. The reason he was obliged
to go, was, that his tribe felt his affections were
so engaged, that his self-command could not be
depended on to keep their secret. Their promise
was not carefully observed, and, in consequence of
the baseness of a French Canadian in whose house
Henry took refuge, — baseness such as has not,
even by their foes, been recorded of any Indian, his
life was placed in great hazard. But Wawatam re-
turned in time to save him. The scene in which he
appears, accompanied by his wife — who seems to
have gone hand in hand with him in this matter —
lays down all his best things in a heap, in the middle
of the hall, as a ransom for the captive, and his little,
quiet speech, are as good as the Iliad. They have
the same simplicity, the same lively force and ten-
derness.

Henry goes away with his adopted brother, and

HENRY. 223

lives for some time among the tribe. The details
of this life are truly interesting. One time he is lost
for several days while on the chase. The description
of these weary, groping days, the aspect of nat-
ural objects and of the feelings thus inspired, and the
mental change after a good night's sleep, form a little
episode worthy the epic muse. He stripped off the
entire bark of a tree for a coverlet in the snow-storm,
going to sleep with " the most distracted thoughts in
the world, while the wolves around seemed to know
the distress to which he was reduced ; " but he waked
in the morning another man, clear-headed, able to
think out the way to safety.

"When living in the lodge, he says: " At one time
mucli scarcity of food prevailed. We were often
twenty-four hours without eating ; and when in the
morning we had no victuals for the day before us,
the custom was to black our faces with grease and
charcoal, and exhibit, through resignation, a temperas
cheerful as in the midst of plenty." This wise and
dignified proceeding reminds one of a charming ex-
pression of what is best in French character, as de-
scribed by Rigolette, in the Mysteries of Paris, of
the household of Pere Cretu and Ramonette.

He bears witness to much virtue among them.
Their superstitions, as described by him, seem child-
like and touching. He gives with much humor,
traits that show their sympathy witli the lower ani-
mals, such as I have mentioned. He speaks of them
as, on the whole, taeiturn, because their range of
topics is so limited, and seems 10 have seen nothing
of their talent for narration. Catlin, on the contrary,

224 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

describes them as lively and garrulous, and says, that
their apparent taciturnity among the whites is owing
to their being surprised at what they see, and unwil-
ling, from pride, to show that they are so, as well as
that they have little to communicate on their side,
that they think will be valuable.

After peace was restored, and Henry lived long at
Mackinaw and the Sault St. Marie, as a trader, the
traits of his biography and intercourse with the In-
dians, are told in the same bold and lively style. I
wish I had room for many extracts, as the book is
rare.

He made a journey one winter on snow shoes, to
Prairie du Chien, which is of romantic interest as
displaying his character. His companions could not
travel nearly so fast as he did, and detained him on
the way. Provisions fell short ; soon they were ready
to perish of starvation. Apprehending this, on a long
journey, in the depth of winter, broken by no hospit-
able station, Henry had secreted some chocolate.
When he saw his companions ready to lie down and
die, he would heat water, boil in it a square of this,
and give them. By the heat of the water and the
fancy of nourishment, they would be revived, and
induced to proceed a little further. At last they saw
antlers sticking up from the ice, and found the body
of an elk, which had sunk in and been frozen there,
and thus preserved to save their lives. On this " and
excellent soup" made from bones they found they
were sustained to their journey's end ; thus furnish-
ing, says Henry, one other confirmation of the truth,
that " despair was not made for man ; " this expres-

HENRY. 225

sion,and his calm consideration for the Canadian wo-
men that was willing to betray him to death, denote
the two sides of a fine character.

He gives an interesting account of the tribe called
" The Weepers," on account of the rites with which
they interrupt their feasts in honor of their friends.

He gives this humorous notice of a chief, called
« The Great Road."

" The chief, to whose kindly reception we were so
much indebted, was of a complexion rather darker
than that of the Indians in general. His appearance
was greatly injured by the condition of his hair, and
this was the result of an extraordinary superstition.

" The Indians universally fix upon a particular ob-
ject as sacred to themselves — as the giver of pros-
perity and as their preserver from evil. The choice
is determined either by a dream or some strong predi-
lection of fancy, and usually falls upon an animal, part
of an animal, or something else which is to be met
with by land, or by water; but the Great Road had
made choice of his hair, placing, like Samson, all his
safety in this portion of his proper substance ! His hair
was the fountain of all his happiness ; it was his strength
and his weapon — his spear and his shield. It preserved
him in battle, directed him in the chase, watched over
him in the march, and gave length of days to his
wives and children. Hair, of a quality like this, was
not to be profaned by the touch of human hands. I
was assured that it never had been cut nor combed
from his childhood upward, and that when any part
of it fell from his head, he treasured that part with
care ; meanwhile, it did not escape all care, even

226 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

while growing on the head, but was in the especial
charge of a spirit, who dressed it while the owner
slept. The spirit's style of hair-dressing was pecu-
liar, the hair being matted into ropes, which spread in
all directions."

I insert the following account of a visit from some
Indians to him at Mackinaw, with a design to frighten
him, and one to Carver, for the same purpose, as very
descriptive of Indian manners :

"At two o'clock in the afternoon, the Chippeways
came to my house, about sixty in number, and
headed by Mina-va-va-na, their chief. They walk-
ed in single file, each with his tomahawk in one
hand, and scalping knife in the other. Their bodies
were naked, from the waist upwards, except in a few
examples, where blankets were thrown loosely over
the shoulders. Their faces were painted with char-
coal, worked up with grease ; their bodies with white
clay in patterns of various fancies. Some had feathers
thrust through their noses, and their heads decorated
with the same. It is unnecessary to dwell on the sen-
sations with which I beheld the approach of this un-
couth, if not frightful, assemblage."

" Looking out, I saw about twenty naked young In-
dians, the most perfect in their shape, and by far the
handsomest I had ever seen, coming towards me, and
dancing as they approached to the music of their
drums. At every ten or twelve yards they halted,
and set up their yells and cries.

When they reached my tent I asked them to come
in, which, without deigning to make me any answer,
they did. As I observed they were painted red and

CARVER. 227

black, as they are when they go against an enemy,
and perceived that some parts of the war-dance
were intermixed with their other movements, I
doubted not but they were set on by the hostile
chief who refused my salutation. I therefore de-
termined to sell my life as dearly as possible. To
this purpose I received them sitting on my chest,
with my gun and pistols beside me ; and ordered
my men to keep a watchful eye on them, and be
also on their guard.

The Indians being entered, they continued their
dance alternately, singing at the same time of their
heroic exploits, and the superiority of their race over
every other people. To enforce their language,
though it was uncommonly nervous and expressive,
and such as would of itself have carried terror to
the firmest heart ; at the end of every period they
struck their war-clubs against the poles of my tent
with such violence, that I expected every moment
it would have tumbled upon us. As each of them
in dancing round passed by me, they placed their
right hands over their eyes, and coming close to
me, looked me steadily in the face, which I could
not construe into a token of friendship. My men
gave themselves up for lost ; and I acknowledge for
my own part, that I never found my apprehensions
more tumultuous on any occasion."

lie mollified them, however, in the end by
presents.

It is pity that Lord Edward Fitzgerald did not
leave a detailed account of his journey through the
wilderness, where he was pilot of an unknown course

228 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

for twenty days, as Murray and Henry have of theirs.
There is nothing more interesting than to see the
civilized man thus thrown wholly on himself and his
manhood, and not found at fault.

McKenney and Hall's book upon the Indians is a
valuable work. The portraits of the chiefs alone
would make a history, and they are beautifully
colored.

Most of the anecdotes may be found again in
Drake's Book of the Indians ; which will afford a
useful magazine to their future historian.

I shall, however, cite a few of them, as especially
interesting to myself.

Of Guess, the inventor of the Cherokee alphabet,
it was observable in the picture, and observed in the
text, that his face had an oriental cast. The same,
we may recall, was said of that of the Seeress of Pre-
vorst, and the circumstance presents pleasing analogies.
Intellect dawning through features still simple and na-
tional, presents very different apparitions from the
"expressive" and "historical" faces of a broken
and cultured race, where there is always more to
divine than to see.

Of the picture of the Flying Pigeon, the beautiful
and excellent woman mentioned above, a keen observer
said, " If you cover the forehead, you would think the
face that of a Madonna, but the forehead is still savage ;
the perceptive faculties look so sharp, and the fore-
head not moulded like a European forehead." This
is very true ; in her the moral nature was most de-
veloped, and the effect of a higher growth upon her
face is entirely different from that upon Guess.

RED JACKET. 229

His eye is interned, while the proper Indian eye
razes steadily,, as if on a distant object. That is half
the romance of it, that it makes yon think of dark
and distant places in the forest.

Guess always preferred inventing his implements
to receiving them from others : and, when consider-
ed as mad bv his tribe, while bent on the invention
of his alphabet, contented himself with teaching it to
his little daughter ; an unimpeachable witness.

Red Jacket's face, too, is much more intellectu d
than almost any other. But, in becoming so, it loses
nothing of the peculiar Indian stamp, but only canies
these traits to their perfection. Irony, discernment,
resolution, and a deep smouldering fire, that disdains
to flicker where it cannot blaze, may there be read.
Nothing can better represent the sort of unfeelingness
the whites have towards the Indians, than their conduct
towards his remains. He bad steadily opposed the
introduction of white religion, or manners, among the
Indians. He believed that for them to break down
the barriers was to perish. On many occasions he
had expressed this witli all the force of his eloquence.
He told the preachers, " if the Great Spirit had meant
your religion for the red man, he would have given it
to them. What they (the missionaries) tell us, we
do not understand ; and the light they ask for us,
makes the straight and plain path trod by our fathers
dark and dreary.''

When he died, he charged his people to inter him
themselves. " Dig my grave yourselves, and let not
the white man pursue me there." In defiance of this
last solemn request, and the invariable tenor of his

20

230 SUMMER ON THE. LAKES.

life, the missionaries seized the body and performed
their service over it, amid the sullen indignation of
his people, at what, under the circumstances, was
sacrilege.

Of Indian religion a fine specimen is given in the
conduct of one of the war chiefs, who, on an impor-
tant occasion, made a vow to the sun of entire re-
nunciation in case he should be crowned with success.
When he was so, he first went through a fast, and
sacrificial dance, involving great personal torment,
and lasting several days ; then, distributing all his
property, even his lodges, and mats, among the tribe,
he and his family took up their lodging upon the bare
ground, beneath the bare sky.

The devotion of the Stylites and the hair-cloth
saints, is in act, though not in motive, less noble, be-
cause this great chief proposed to go on in common
life, where he had lived as a prince — a beggar.

The memoir by Corn Plant of his early days is
beautiful.

Very fine anecdotes are told of two of the Western
chiefs, father and son, who had the wisdom to see
the true policy toward the whites, and steadily to ad-
here to it.

A murder having taken place in the jurisdiction of
the father, he delivered himself up, with those sus-
pected, to imprisonment. One of his companions
chafed bitterly under confinement. He told the
chief, if they ever got out, he would kill him, and
did so. The son, then a boy, came in his rage and
sorrow, to this Indian, and insulted him in every way.
The squaw, angry at this, urged her husband •• to kill

PETALESHAKRO. 231

the boy at once." But he only replied with " the joy
of the valiant," " He will be a great Brave," and
then delivered himself up to atone for his victim,
and met his death with the noblest Roman com-
posure.

This boy became rather a great chief than a great
brave, and the anecdotes about him are of signal
beauty and significance.

There is a fine story of an old mother, who gave
herself to death instead of her son. The son, at the
time, accepted the sacrifice, seeing, with Indian cool-
ness, that it was better she should give up her few
solitary and useless days, than he a young existence
full of promise. But he could not abide by this view,
and after suffering awhile all the anguish of remorse,
he put himself solemnly to death in the presence of the
tribe, as the only atonement he could make. His
young wife stood by, with her child in her arms, com-
manding her emotions, as he desired, for, no doubt, it
seemed to her also, a sacred duty.

But the finest story of all is that of Petalesharro, in
whose tribe at the time, and not many years since,
the custom of offering human sacrifices still subsisted.
The fire was kindled, the victim, a young female cap-
tive, bound to the stake, the tribe assembled round.
The young brave darted through them, snatched the
girl fffom her peril, placed her upon his horse, and
both had vanished before the astonished spectators
had thought to interpose.

He placed the girl in her distant home, and then
returned. Such is the might of right, when joined
with courage, that none ventured a word of resent-

232 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

ment or question. His father, struck by truth, en-
deavored, and with success, to abolish the barbarous
custom in the tribe. On a later occasion, Petalesharro
again offered his life, if required, but it was not.

This young warrior visiting Washington, a medal
was presented him in honor of these acts. His reply
deserves sculpture : " When I did it, I knew not that
it was good. I did it in ignorance. This medal
makes me know that it was good."

The recorder, through his playful expressions of
horror at a declaration so surprising to the civilized
Good, shows himself sensible to the grand simplicity
of heroic impulse it denotes. Were we, too, so good,
as to need a medal to show us that we are !

The half-breed and half-civilized chiefs, however
handsome, look vulgar beside the pure blood. They
have the dignity of neither race.

The death of Oseola, (as described by Catlin,)
presents a fine picture in the stern, warlike kind, tak-
ing leave with kindness, as a private friend, of the
American officers ; but, as a foe in national regards,
he raised himself in his dying bed, and painted his
face with the tokens of eternal enmity.

The historian of the Indians should be one of their
own race, as able to sympathize with them, and pos-
sessing a mind as enlarged and cultivated as John
Ross, and with his eye turned to the greatness of the
past, rather than the scanty promise of the future.
Hearing of the wampum belts, supposed to have been
sent to our tribes by Montezuma, on the invasion of
the Spaniard, we feel that an Indian who could glean
traditions familiarly from the old men, might collect
much that we could interpret.

MACKENZIE. 233

Still, any clear outline, even of a portion of their
past, is not to be hoped, and we shall be well con-
tented if we can have a collection of genuine frag-
ments, that will indicate as clearly their life, as
a horse's head from the Parthenon the genius of
Greece.

Such, to me, are the stories I have cited above.
And even European sketches of this greatness, dis-
tant and imperfect though they be, yet convey the
truth, if made in a sympathizing spirit. Adair's
Red Shoes, Murray's old man, Catlin's noble Man-
dan chief, Henry's Wa-wa-tam, with what we knowT
of Philip, Pontiac, Tecumseh and Red Jacket, would
suffice to give the ages a glimpse at what was great
in Indian life and Indian character.

We hope, too, there will be a national institute,
containing all the remains of the Indians, — all that
has been preserved by official intercourse at Wash-
ington, Catlin's collection, and a picture gallery as
complete as can be made, with a collection of skulls
from all parts of the country. To this should be
joined the scanty library that exists on the subject.
• I have not mentioned Mackenzie's Travel-. He
is an accurate observer, but sparing in his records,
because his attention was wholly bent on fiis own ob-
jects. This circumstance gives a heroic charm to his
scanty and simple narrative. Let what will happen,
or who will go back, he cannot ; he must find the
sea, along those frozen rivers, through those starving
countries, among tribes of stinted men. whose habit-
ual interjection was " edui, it is hard, uttered in a
querulous tone," distrusted by his followers, deserted
20*

234 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

by his guides, on, on he goes, till he sees the sea,
cold, lowering, its strand bristling with foes ; but he
does see it.

His few observations, especially on the tribes who
lived on fish, and held them in such superstitious ob-
servance, give a lively notion of the scene.

A little pamphlet has lately been published, giving
an account of the massacre at Chicago, which I wish
much I had seen while there, as it would have im-
parted an interest to spots otherwise barren. It is
written with animation, and in an excellent style,
telling just what we want to hear, and no more.
The traits given of Indian generosity are as charac-
teristic as those of Indian cruelty. A lady, who was
saved by a friendly chief holding her under the waters of
the lake, while the balls were whizzing around, received
also, in the heat of the conflict, a reviving draught
from a squaw, who saw she was exhausted ; and, as
she lay down, a mat was hung up between her and
the scene of butchery, so that she was protected from
the sight, though she could not be from sounds, full
of horror.

I have not wished to write sentimentally about the
Indians, however moved by the thought of their wrongs
and speedy extinction. I know that the Europeans
who took possession of this country, felt themselves
justified by their superior civilization and religious
ideas. Had they been truly civilized or Christianized,
the conflicts which sprang from the collision of the
two races, might have been avoided ; but this cannot
be expected in movements made by masses of men.
The mass has never yet been humanized, though the
age may develop a human thought.

M'KENNEY. 23')

Since those conflicts and differences did arise, the
hatred which sprang, from terror and Buffering, on the
European side. lias naturally warped the whites still
farther from justice.

The Indian, brandishing the scalps of his friends
and wife, drinking their blood and eating their hearts,
is by him viewed as a fiend, though, at a distant day.
he will no doubt be considered as having acted the
Roman or Carthaginian part of heroic and patriotic
sell-defence, according to the standard of right and
motives prescribed by his religious faith and educa-
tion. Looked at by his own standard, he is virtuous
when lie most injures his enemy, and the white, if he
be really the superior in enlargement of thought,
ought to cast aside his inherited prejudices enough to
see this, — to look on him in pity and brotherly good-
will, and do all he can to mitigate the doom of those
who survive his past injuries.

In McKenney's book, is proposed a project for or-
ganizing the Indians under a patriarchal government,
but it does not look feasible, even on paper. Could
their own intelligent men be left to act unimpeded
in their behalf, they would do far better for them
than the white thinker, with all his general know-
It d. But we dare not hope the designs of such
will not always be frustrated by the same barbarous
selfishness they were in Georgia. There was a chance
of seeing what might have been done, now lost for-
ever.

Yet let every man look to himself how far this
blood shall be required at his hands. Let the mis-
sionary, instead of preaching to the Indian, preach to

236 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

the trader who ruins him, of the dreadful account
which will be demanded of the followers of Cain, in
a sphere where the accents of purity and love come on
the ear more decisively than in ours. Let every legis-
lator take the subject to heart, and if he cannot undo
the effects of past sin, try for that clear view and
right sense that may save us from sinning still more
deeply. And let every man and every woman, in
their private dealings with the subjugated race, avoid
all share in embittering, by insult or unfeeling preju-
dice, the captivity of Israel.

CHAPTER VII.

9AULT ST. MARIE.

Nine days I passed alone at Mackinaw, except for
occasional visits from kind and agreeable residents at
the fort, and Mr. and Mrs. A. Mr. A., long engaged
in the fur-trade, is gratefully remembered by many
travellers. From Mrs. A., also, I received kind at-
tentions, paid in the vivacious and graceful manner
of her nation.

The society at the boarding house entertained, be-
ing of a kind entirely new to me. There were many
traders from the remote stations, such as La Pointe,
Arbre Croche, — men who had become half wild
and wholly rude, by living in the wild ; but good-hu-
mored, observing, and with a store of knowledge to
impart, of the kind proper to their place.

There were two little girls here, that were pleasant
companions for me. One gay, frank, impetuous, but
sweet and winning. ^\\e was an American, fair, and
with bright brown hair. The other, a little French
Canadian, used to join me in my walks, silently take
my hand, and sit at my feet when I stopped in beau-

238 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

tiful places. She seemed to understand without a
word ; and I never shall forget her little figure, with
its light, but pensive motion, and her delicate, grave
features, with the pale, clear complexion and soft eye.
She was motherless, and much left alone by her fa-
ther and brothers, who were boatmen. The two lit-
tle girls were as pretty representatives of Allegro and
Penseroso, as one would wish to see.

I had been wishing that a boat would come in to take
me to the Sault St. Marie, and several times started,
to the window at night in hopes that the pant and
dusky-red light crossing the waters belonged to such
an one ; but they were always boats for Chicago or
Buffalo, till, on the 28th of August, Allegro, who
shared my plans and wishes, rushed in to tell me that
the General Scott had come, and, in this little steamer,
accordingly, I set off the next morning.

I was the only lady, and attended in the cabin by
a Dutch girl and an Indian woman. They both
spoke English fluently, and entertained me much by
accounts of their different experiences.

The Dutch girl told me of a dance among the com-
mon people at Amsterdam, called the shepherd's
dance. The two leaders are dressed as shepherd and
shepherdess ; they invent to the music all kinds of
movements, descriptive of things that may happen in
the field, and the rest were obliged to follow. I have
never heard of any dance which gave such free play
to the fancy as this. French dances merely describe
the polite movements of society ; Spanish and Nea-
politan, love ; the beautiful Mazurkas, &c, are war-

THE GENERAL SCOTT. 239

like or expressive of wild scenery. But in this one
is great room both £ot fun and fancy*

The Indian was married, when young, by her pa-
rents, to a man she did not love. He became dissi-
pated, and did not maintain her. She left him.
taking with her their child ; for whom and herself she
earns a subsistence by going as chambermaid in
these boats. Now and then, she said, her husband
called on her, and asked if he might live with her
again ; but she always answered, no. Here she was
far freer than she would have been in civilized life.

I was pleased by the nonchalance of this woman,
and the perfectly national manner she had preserved
after so many years of contact with all kinds of peo-
ple. The two women, when I left the boat, made
me presents of Indian work, such as travellers value,
and the manner of the two was characteristic of their
different nations. The Indian brought me hers, when
I was alone, looked bashfullv down when she save it,
and made an almost sentimental little speech. The
Dutch girl brought hers in public, and, bridling her
short chin with a self-complacent air, observed she
had bought it for me. But the feeling of affectionate
regard was tfie same in the minds of both.

Island after island we passed, all fairly shaped and
clustering friendly, but with little variety of vegetation.

In the afternoon the weather became foggy, and
we could not proceed after dark. That was as dull
an evening as ever fell.

The next morning the fog still lay heavy, but
the captain took me out in his boat on an ex-
ploring expedition, and we found the remains of

240 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

the old English fort on Point St. Joseph's. All
around was so wholly unmarked by anything but
stress of wind and weather, the shores of these
islands and their woods so like one another, wild and
lonely, but nowhere rich and majestic, that there was
some charm in the remains of the garden, the re-
mains even of chimneys and a pier. They gave fea-
ture to the scene.

Here I gathered many flowers, but they were the
same as at Mackinaw.

The captain, though he had been on this trip hun-
dreds of times, had never seen this spot, and never
would, but for this fog, and his desire to entertain me.
He presented a striking instance how men, for the
sake of getting a living, forget to live. It is just the
same in the most romantic as the most dull and vul-
gar places. Men get the harness on so fast, that they
can never shake it off, unless they guard against this
danger from the very first. In Chicago, how many
men, who never found time to see the prairies or learn
anything unconnected with the business of the day,
or about the country they were living in !

So this captain, a man of strong sense and good
eyesight, rarely found time to go off the track or look
about him on it. He lamented, too, that there had
been no call which induced him to develop his pow-
ers of expression, so that he might communicate what
he had seen, for the enjoyment or instruction of
others.

This is a common fault among the active men, the
truly living, who could tell what life is. It should not
be so. Literature should not be left to the mere lit-

st. Joseph's. 241

erati — eloquence to the mere orator. Every Casar
should be able to write his own commentary. We
want a more equal, more thorough, more harmonious
development, and there is nothing to hinder from it
the men of this country, except their own supine-
ness, or sordid views.

When the weather did clear, our course up the
river was delightful. Long stretched before us the
island of St. Joseph's, with its fair woods of sugar
maple. A gentleman on board, who belongs to the
Fort at the Sault, said their pastime was to come in
the season of making sugar, and pass some time on
this island, — the days at work, and the evening in
dancing and other amusements.

I wished to extract here Henry's account of this,
for it was just the same sixty years ago as now, but
have already occupied too much room with extracts.
Work of this kind done in the open air, where every-
thing is temporary, and every utensil prepared on the
spot, gives life a truly festive air. At such times,
there is labor and no care — energy with gaiety,
gaiety of the heart.

I think with the same pleasure of the Italian vint-
age, the Scotch harvest-home, with its evening dance
in the barn, the Russian cabbage-feast even, and our
huskings and hop-gatherings — the hop-gatherings
where the groups of men and girls are pulling down
and filling baskets with the gay festoons, present as
graceful pictures as the Italian vintage.

I should also like to insert Henry's descriptions of
the method of catching trout and white fish, the
delicacies of this region, for the same reason as I want

21

242 SUMMER ON THE LAKE3.

his account of the Gens de Terre, the savages among
savages, and his tales, dramatic, if not true, of can-
nibalism.

I have no less grieved to omit Carver's account of
the devotion of a Winnebago prince at the Falls of
St. Anthony, which he describes with a simplicity
and intelligence, that are very pleasing.

I take the more pleasure in both Carver and Hen-
ry's power of appreciating what is good in the Indian
character, that both had run the greatest risk of losing
their lives during their intercourse with the Indians,
and had seen them in their utmost exasperation, with
all its revolting circumstances.

I wish I had a thread long enough to string on it
all these beads that take my fancy ; but, as I have not,
I can only refer the reader to the books themselves,
which may be found in the library of Harvard Col-
lege, if not elsewhere.

How pleasant is the course along a new river, the
sight of new shores ; like a life, would but life flow as
fast, and upbear us with as full a stream. I hoped we
should come in sight of the rapids by daylight ; but
the beautiful sunset was quite gone, and only a young
moon trembling over the scene, when we came within
hearing of them.

I sat up long to hear them merely. It was a
thoughtful hour. These two days, the 29th and 30th
August, are memorable in my life ; the latter is the
birth-day of a near friend. I pass them alone,
approaching Lake Superior ; but I shall not enter
into that truly wild and free region ; shall not have
the canoe voyage, whose daily adventure, with the

EDITH. ,' h'J

camping out at night beneath the stars, would have
given an interlude of such value to my existence. I
shall not see the Pictured Rocks, their chapelfl and
urns. It did not depend on me ; it never has,
whether such things shall be done or not.

My friends ! may they see, and do, and be more,
especially those who have before them a greater
number of birthdays, and of a more healthy and
unfettered existence :

TO EDITH, ON HER BIRTHDAY.

If the same star our fates together bind,
Why are we thus divided, mind from mind ?
If the same law one grief to both impart,
How could'st thou grieve a trusting mother's heart ?

Our aspiration seeks a common aim,
Why were we tempered of such differing frame ?
— But 'tis too late to turn this wrong to right ;
Too cold, too damp, too deep, has fallen the night.

And yet, the angel of my life replies,
Up«»n that night a Morning Star shall rise,
Fairer than that which ruled the temporal birth,
Undimmed by vapors of the dreamy earth ;

It says, that, where a heart thy claim denies,
'Genius shall read its Becrel ere it flies;
The earthly form may vanish from thy Bide,
Pure love will make thee still the spirit's bride.

And thou, ungentle, yet much loving child,

Whose heart still shows the" untamed haggard wild/'
A heart which justly makes the highest claim,
Too easily is checked hy transient blame;

244 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

Ere such an orb can ascertain its sphere,
The ordeal must be various and severe ;
My prayers attend thee, though the feet may fly,
I hear thy music in the silent sky.

I should like, however, to hear some notes of
earthly music to-night. By the faint moonshine I
can hardly see the banks ; how they look I have no
guess, except that there are trees, and, now and
then, a light lets me know there are homes with
their various interests. I should like to hear some
strains of the flute from beneath those trees, just to
break the sound of the rapids.

When no gentle eyebeam charms ;
No fond hope the bosom warms ;
Of thinking the lone mind is tired —
Nought seems bright to be desired ;

Music, be thy sails unfurled,
Bear me to thy better world ;
O'er a cold and weltering sea,
Blow thy breezes warm and free ;

By sad sighs they ne'er were chilled,

By sceptic spell were never stilled ;

Take me to that far-offshore,

Where lovers meet to part no more ;

There doubt, and fear and sin are o'er,
The star of love shall set no more.

With the first light of dawn I was up and out,
and then was glad I had not seen all the night
before ; it came upon me with such power in

RAPIDS. 245

its dewy freshness. O ! they arc beautiful indeed,
these rapids ! The grace is so much more ob-
vious than the power. I went up through the old
Chippeway burying ground to their head, and sat

down on a large stone to look. A little way off
was one of the home lodges, unlike in shape to
the temporary ones at Mackinaw, hut these have
been described by Mrs. Jameson. Women, too, I
saw coming home from the woods, stooping under
great loads of cedar boughs, that were strapped
upon their backs. But in many European coun-
tries women carry great loads, even of wood, upon
their backs. I used to hear the girls singing and laugh-
ing as they were cutting down boughs at Mackinaw ;
this part of their employment, though laborious,
gives them the pleasure of being a great deal in the
free woods.

I had ordered a canoe to take me down the rapids,
and presently I saw it coming, with the two Indian
canoe-men in pink calico shirts, moving it about with
their long poles, with a grace and dexterity worthy
fairy land. Now and then they cast the scoop-net ;
all looked just as I had fancied, only far prettier.

When they came to me, they spread a mat in the
middle of the canoe ; I sat down, and in less than
four minutes we had descended the rapids, a distance
of more than three quarters of a mile. I was some-
what disappointed in this being no more of an exploit
than I found it. Having heard such expressions used
as of " darting," or, "shooting down," these rapids,
I had fancied there was a wall of rock souk where,
where descent would somehow be accomplished, and

21*

246 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

that there would come some one gasp of terror and
delight, some sensation entirely new to me ; but I
found myself in smooth water, before I had time to
feel anything but the buoyant pleasure of being car-
ried so lightly through this surf amid the breakers.
Now and then the Indians spoke to one another in a
vehement jabber, which, however, had no tone that
expressed other than pleasant excitement. It is, no
doubt, an act of wonderful dexterity to steer amid
these iasrged rocks, when one rude touch would tear
a hole in the birch canoe ; but these men are evi-
dently so used to doing it, and so adroit, that the
silliest person could not feel afraid. I should like
to have come down twenty times, that I might have
had leisure to realize the pleasure. But the fog
which had detained us on the way, shortened the
boat's stay at the Sault, and I wanted my time to
walk about.

While coming down the rapids, the Indians
caught a white-fish for my breakfast ; and cer-
tainlv it was the best of breakfasts. The white-
fish I found quite another thing caught on this
spot, and cooked immediately, from what I had
found it at Chicago or Mackinaw. Before, I had
had the bad taste to prefer the trout, despite the
solemn and eloquent remonstrances of the Habi-
tues, to whom the superiority of white fish seem-
ed a cardinal point of faith.

I am here reminded that I have omitted that indis-
pensable part of a travelling journal, the account of
what we found to eat. I cannot hope to make up,
by one bold stroke, all my omissions of daily record ;

DINNERS. 247

but that I may show mys If not destitute of the com-
mon feelings of humanity, I will observe that he
whose affections turn in summer towards vegetables,

should not come to this region, till the subject of diet
be better understood ; that of fruit, too, there is little
yet, even at the best hotel tables; -that the prairie
chickens require no praise from me, and that the trout
and white-fish are worthy the transparency of the
lake waters.

In this brief mention I by no means mean to give
myself an air of superiority to the subject. If a din-
ner in the Illinois woods, on dry bread and drier
meat, with water from the stream that flowed hard
by, pleased me best of all, yet at one time, when
living at a house where nothing was prepared for the
table fit to touch, and even the bread could not be
partaken of without a headach in consequence, I
learnt to understand and sympathize with the anxious
tone in which fathers of families, about to take their
innocent children into some scene of wild beauty, ask
first of all, " Is there agood table ?" I shall ask just so
in future. Only those whom the Powers have furnish-
ed small travelling cases of ambrosia, can take ezerci
all day, and be happy without even bread morning or
night.

Our voyage back was all pleasure. It was the
fairest clay. I saw the river, the islands, the clouds to
the greatest advantage.

On board was an old man, an Illinois farmer, whom
I found a most agreeable companion, lb' had just
been with his son, and eleven Other young men, on an
exploring expedition to the shores of lake Superior.
He was the only old man of the party, but lie had

248 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

enjoyed, most of any, the journey. He had been the
counsellor and playmate, too, of the young ones. He
was one of those parents, — why so rare ? — who un-
derstand and live a new life in that of their children,
instead of wasting time and young happiness in try-
ing to make them conform to an object and standard
of their own. The character and history of each
child may be a new and poetic experience to the pa-
rent, if he will let it. Our farmer was domestic, ju-
dicious, solid ; the son, inventive, enterprising, super-
ficial, full of follies, full of resources, always liable to
failure, sure to rise above it. The father conformed
to, and learnt from, a character he could not change,
and won the sweet from the bitter.

His account of his life at home, and of his late
adventures among the Indians, was very amusing, but
I want talent to write it down. I have not heard
the slang of these people intimately enough. There
is a good book about Indiana, called the New Pur-
chase, written by a person who knows the people of
the country well enough to describe them in their
own way. It is not witty, but penetrating, valuable
for its practical wisdom and good-humored fun.

There were many sportsman stories told, too, by
those from Illinois and Wisconsin. I do not retain
any of these well enough, nor any that I heard ear-
lier, to write them down, though they always interest-
ed me from bringing wild, natural scenes before
the mind. It is pleasant for the sportsman to be in
countries so alive with game ; yet it is so plenty that
one would think shooting pigeons or grouse would seem
more like slaughter, than the excitement of skill to a

MACKINAW. 249

good sportsman. Hunting the deer is full of adven-
ture, and needs only a Scropeto describe it to invest
the western woods with historic associations.

How pleasant it was to sit and hear rough men tell
pieces out of their own common lives, in place of the
frippery talk of some fine circle with its conventional
sentiment, and timid, second-hand criticism. Free
blew the wind, and boldly flowed the stream, named
for Mary mother mild.

A fine thunder shower came on in the afternoon.
It cleared at sunset, just as we came in sight of beau-
tiful Mackinaw, over which a rainbow bent in pro-
mise of peace.

I have always wondered, in reading travels, at the
childish joy travellers felt at meeting people they
knew, and their sense of loneliness when they did
not, in places where there was ever} thing new to oc-
cupy the attention. So childish, I thought, always to
be longing for the new in the old, and the old in the
nev. . Yet just such sadness I felt, when I looked
on the island, glittering in the sunset, canopied by
the rainbow, and thought no friend would welcome
me there ; just such childish joy I felt, to sec unex-
pectedly on the landing, the face of one whom I call-
ed friend.

The remaining two or three days were delightfully
spent, in walking or boating, or sitting at the window
to see the Indians go. This was not quite so pleas-
ant as their coming in, though accomplished with
the same rapidity ; a family not taking half an hour
to prepare for departure, and the departing canoe a
beautiful object. Bui they left behind, on all the

250 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

shore, the blemishes of their stay — old rags, dried
boughs, fragments of food, the marks of their fires.
Nature likes to cover up and gloss over spots and
scars, but it would take her some time to restore that
beach to the state it was in before they came.

S. and I had a mind for a canoe excursion, and
we asked one of the traders to engage us two good
Indians, that would not only take us out, but be sure
and bring us back, as we could not hold converse
with them. Two others offered their aid, beside the
chief's son, a fine looking youth of about sixteen,
richly dressed in blue broadcloth, scarlet sash and leg-
gins, with a scarf of brighter red than the rest, tied
around his head, its ends falling gracefully on one
shoulder. They thought it, apparently, fine amuse-
ment to be attending two white women ; they carried
us into the path of the steamboat, which was going
out, and paddled with all their force, — rather too
fast, indeed, for there was something of a swell on
the lake, and they sometimes threw water into the
canoe. However, it flew over the waves, light as a
sea-gull. They would say, "Pull away," and " Ver'
warm," and, after these words, would laugh gaily.
They enjoyed the hour, I believe, as much as we.

The house where we lived belonged to the widow
of a French trader, an Indian by birth, and wearing
the dress of her country. She spoke French fluently,
and was very ladylike in her manners. She is a
great character among them. They were all the
time coming to pay her homage, or to get her aid
and advice ; for she is, I am told, a shrewd wo-
man of business. My companion carried about her

INDIANS. 251

sketch-book with her, and the Indians were inter-
ested when they saw her using her pencil, though
less so than about the sun-shade. This lady of the
tribe wanted to borrow the sketches of the beach,
with its lodges and wild groups, " to show to the
savages," she said.

Of the practical ability of the Indian women, a
good specimen is given by McKenney, in an amusing
story of one who went to Washington, and acted
her part there in the " first circles," with a tact and
sustained dissimulation worthy of Cagliostro. She
seemed to have a thorough love of intrigue lor its
own sake, and much dramatic talent. Like the
chiefs of her nation, when on an expedition among
the foe, whether for revenge or profit, no impulses
of vanity or wayside seductions had power to turn
her aside from carrying out her plan as she had origi-
nally projected it.

Although I have little to tell, I feel that I have
learnt a great deal of the Indians, from observing
them even in this broken and degraded condition.
There is a language of eye and motion which cannot
be put into words, and which teaches what words
never can. 1 feel acquainted with the soul of this
race ; I read its nobler thought in their defaced
figures. There ivas a greatness, unique and precious,
which he who does not feel will never duly appre-
ciate the majesty of nature in this American con-
tinent.

I have mentioned that the Indian orator, who
addressed the agents on this occasion, said, the
difference between the white man and the red

252 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

man is this : " the white man no sooner came here,
than he thought of preparing the way for his pos-
terity ; the red man never thought of this." I was
assured this was exactly his phrase ; and it defines
the true difference. We get the better because
we do

"Look before and after."

But, from the same cause, we

" Pine for what is not.".

The red man, when happy, was thoroughly happy ;
when good, was simply good. He needed the
medal, to let him know that he was good.

These evenings we were happy, looking over the
old-fashioned garden, over the beach, over the waters
and pretty island opposite, beneath the growing
moon ; we did not stay to see it full at Mackinaw.
At two o'clock, one night, or rather morning, the
Great Western came snorting in, and we must go ;
and Mackinaw, and all the north-west summer, is
now to me no more than picture and dream ; —

"A dream within a dream."

These last days at Mackinaw have been pleasanter
than the "lonesome" nine, for I have recovered the
companion with whom I set out from the East, one
who sees all, prizes all, enjoys much, interrupts never.

At Detroit we stopped for half a day. This place
is famous in our history, and the unjust anger at its
surrender is still expressed by almost every one who

GENERAL HULL. 253

passes there. I had always shared the common feel-
ing on this subject ; for the indignation at a disgrace*

to our arms that seemed so unnccessay, lias been
handed down from father to child, and few of us
have taken the pains to ascertain where the blame
lay. But now, upon the spot, having read all the
testimony, I felt convinced that it should rest solely
with the government, which, by neglecting to sustain
General Hull,- as he had a right to expect they would,
compelled him to take this step, or sacrifice many
lives, and of the defenceless inhabitants, not of sol-
diers, to the cruelty of a savage foe, for the sake .of
his reputation.

I am a woman, and unlearned in such affairs ; but,
to a person with common sense and good eyesight, it
is clear, when viewing the location, that, under the
circumstances, he had no prospect of successful de-
fence, and that to attempt it would have been an act
of vanity, not valor.

I feel that I am not biased in this judgment by my
personal relations, for I have always heard both sides,
and, though my feelings had been moved by the pic-
ture of the old man sitting down, in the midst of his
children, to a retired and despoiled old age, after a
life of honor and happy intercourse with the public,
yet tranquil, always secure that justice must be done
at last, I supposed, like others, that he deceived
himself, and deserved to pay the penalty for fail-
ure to the responsibility he had undertaken. Now
on the spot, I change, and believe the country at
large must, ere long, change from this opinion. And
I wish to add my testimony, however trilling its
22

254 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

weight, before it be drowned in the voice of general
assent, that I may do some justice to the feelings
which possessed me here and now.

A noble boat, the Wisconsin, was to be launched this
afternoon, the whole town was out in many-colored
array, the band playing. Our boat swept round to a
good position, and all was ready but — the Wiscon-
sin, which could not be made to stir. This was quite
a disappointment. It would have been an imposing
sight.

In the boat many signs admonished that we were
floating eastward. A shabbily dressed phrenologist
laid his hand on every head which would bend, with
half-conceited, half-sheepish expression, to the trial
of his skill. Knots of people gathered here and there
to discuss points of theology. A bereaved lover was
seeking religious consolation in — Butler's Analogy,
which he had purchased for that purpose. However,
he did not turn over many pages before his attention
was drawn aside by the gay glances of certain dam-
sels that came on board at Detroit, and, though But-
ler might afterwards be seen sticking from his pocket,
it had not weight to impede him from many a feat of
lightness and liveliness. I doubt if it went with him
from the boat. Some there were, even, discussing
the doctrines of Fourier. It seemed pity they were
not going to, rather than from, the rich and free
country where it would be so much easier, than with
us, to try the great experiment of voluntary associa-
tion, and show, beyond a doubt, that " an ounce of
prevention is worth a pound of cure," a maxim of

THE BOOK TO THE READER. 2.V)

the "wisdom of nations," which has proved of little
practical efficacy as yet.

Better to stop before landing at Buffalo, while I
have yet the advantage over some of my readers.

THE BOOK TO THE READER

WHO OPENS, AS AMERICAN READERS OFTEN DO, AT THE END,
WITH DOGGEREL SUBMISSION.

To see your cousin in her country home,

If at the time of blackberries you come,

" Welcome, my friends," she cries with ready glee,

" The fruit is ripened, and the paths are free.

But, madam, you will tear that handsome gown ;

The little boy be sure to tumble down ;

And, in the thickets where they ripen best,

The matted ivy, too, its bower has drest.

And then, the thorns your hands are sure to rend,

Unless with heavy gloves you will defend ;

Amid most thorns the Bweetest rosea Wow,

Amid most thorns the sweetest berries orow."

b'

If, undeterred, you to the fields must go,

You tear your dresses and you scratch your hands ;

But, in the places where the berries grow,
A sweeter fruit the ready sense commands,

Of wild, gay feelings, fancies springing sweet —

Of bird-like pleasures, fluttering and fleet.

Another year, you cannot go yourself,

To win the berries from the thickets wild,

And housewife skill, instead, has filled the shelf

With blackberry jam, " by best receipts compiled,-

256 SUMMER ON THE LAKES.

Not made with country sugar, for too strong
The flavors that to maple juice belong ;
But foreign sugar, nicely mixed ' to suit
The taste,' spoils not the fragrance of the fruit."

'T is pretty good," half-tasting, you reply,

I scarce should know it from fresh blackberry.

But the best pleasure such a fruit can yield,

Is to be gathered in the open field ;

If only as an article of food,

Cherry or crab-apple are quite as good ;

And, for occasions of festivity,

West India sweetmeats you had better buy."

Thus, such a dish of homely sweets as these
In neither way may chance the taste to please.

Yet try a little with the evening-bread;
Bring a good needle for the spool of thread ;
Take fact with fiction, silver with the lead,
And, at the mint, you can get gold instead ;
In fine, read me, even as you would be read.

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