Chapter IV: Part 4

When I awakened we were at the dock at Mackinac Island. Everything was white with snow. The whole island looked like white marble. The damp snow had covered the trees. The fort on the hill looked so pretty where the snow was on the tops of the houses and chimneys. A flag waved over the fort. There were soldiers in their blue clothes walking up and down the fort hill. Dogs and ponies hitched to sleds with people dressed in fur coats, caps and mittens riding along the front street that reached round the pretty bay. The dock was full of people. Men, women and children nearly all speaking in French. There were a number of families going away on the last boat to their winter homes. Elizabeth took me ashore. We went into several stores and there I met old grandpa. I told him I was going to see Charley. He was so pleased to see me and cautioned me to be careful not to fall overboard and to be sure and tell Charley grandpa had not forgotten him. Then he gave me packages of candy, apples and raisins. I met several that knew me, as they were so often with us at home. We walked down to the Mission House, as mother had told me so much about the Mission. When Mr. Ferry was there mother had attended the Mission school for a time. We saw Robinson's Folly with the white snow covering the rocks and trees. We then came back to the old Mission Church, and going inside I told Elizabeth my mother had often taken me there when I was a baby. I showed her the Dousman pew in front where the family used to sit, my mother being adopted by Mr. and Mrs. Dousman. We then came to the "Old Agency House" with its quaint old chimney outside at the end, its little dormer windows in the roof. It was now all covered with the pure white snow and every shrub around its doors was draped in white. We passed on, going toward the Grand, many little houses covered with cedar bark and some had cedar bark put all around the outside, with narrow strips of wood tacked on to hold it. Some had little square windows with four and six panes of glass with white muslin curtains. They looked like little toy houses, but were warm and comfortable. It was a quaint little village full of jolly, kind hearted people whose hearts were tender and true to their neighbors.

It being cold we soon went back to the boat. Our boat looked like a huge snow bank beside the dock. The freight was being rolled over the plank and all was confusion. There were handshakes and good-byes as the people hurried over the plank. The "all aboard" was shouted, the plank was pulled in, the paddles turned and we were moving away amid the waving of caps and fluttering of handkerchiefs. Our whistle was saluting, and many of the people on the dock joined in one of the old French-Canadian glee or boat songs, their voices sounding far out over the waters as we passed Round Island.

ON LAKE HURON.

For a short time we watched the white island covered with snow. It soon set in thick again and the snow came down in blinding sheets with a cold wind. Our boat rocked and tumbled about. We were now out on Lake Huron in a heavy snow storm. Our captain and sailors were dressed in their warm fur coats. Every turn of the paddies was taking me farther from home, and soon such a longing came over me which I could not shake off. I wanted to go home. Elizabeth and my brother tried their best to comfort me, telling me I was going to see brother Charley; but nothing could make me feel better. Brother tried to have me eat something, but I could not. My chin quivered, I tried so hard not to cry, I ran to my room, throwing myself on my bed, trying hard to keep the tears back. Soon Mr. Crane came with a big doll he bought for me at Mackinac Island and grandpa McKinley came to see me, taking me in his arms and rocking me in one of Jane's chairs. I was very glad to see him. He was a dear white haired old man. He told me some droll stories that made me laugh. Then I told him I was going to see my brother Charley and that I was homesick, and if I didn't get better soon I was going to ask the captain to turn the boat and take me back to Beaver Island.

The storm grew worse, the seas ran higher, the snow was blinding and all things had to be made secure on the boat. No one but the sailors could walk about. Any that tried would be thrown down. The only way they could move about was to creep on their hands and knees. Sometimes our boat was high on the waves, when it seemed every timber in her would be broken. She trembled and then sank way down, where it seemed we would be buried in the foaming waters.

CROSSING SAGINAW BAY.

We were now crossing Saginaw Bay in a blinding snow storm. The whistle was blowing almost constantly, and once we heard another quite close to us. Women and children were crying in their state-rooms, others were groaning in fear and sickness. Our boat was creaking and tossing, sometimes on her side, when it seemed she would never rise again. Sailors were running on the deck and orders were shouted by the captain. Water was splashing into the cabins, glass was broken from the windows, and cabin boys were hurrying about nailing up blankets. Dishes were smashing as they fell from the lockers. Cabin doors could not be shut, our boat was twisted, and it seemed she could not last much longer she settled and trembled so at times, and then the great waves dashed all over her.

PRAYING FOR THE STORM TO CEASE.

Our blankets were wet by water coming in upon us as Elizabeth and I lay in our berth with our hands tightly clasped in each others. She had been telling me about her home, mother, sisters and brothers. How they were waiting and watching for them to come home, saying, "I know my mother is praying for us." Then I said, "And we must pray, pray awful hard, because my father, mother and John said if I was in trouble God would hear me and help me, and I guess I will pray for our boat to be saved." Elizabeth said, "Yes child, pray for us all." And I am sure God heard the feeble prayer I made as I told him how sorry everybody would be if our dear old Michigan steamboat went down. I felt no fear through all the storm. I said to Elizabeth, "Now we must go to sleep." She kissed me, saying, "Dear child, what a comfort you are to me." We were cold and wet in our berths and now the boat seemed pitching and tossing another way. Her head would go down so far it seemed she would pitch over head first. Many were screaming in the cabins. Mr. Crane with my brother and William were on the cabin floor near our door. Our door had to be tied back to keep from slamming. My brother had the life preservers ready and some had already put them on. Oh the praying and the screaming was terrible; but in the midst of all I went sound to sleep. When I awoke our boat was still. We had weathered the gale.

AT PRESQUE ISLE DOCK.

There was tramping of feet and scraping of shovels. I was sure we had run aground. Brother soon told us we were safe at Presque Isle dock. Oh how glad we felt! Brother said hurry and dress so you can get out on deck and look at our boat. She is a sight to look at. We were soon on the dock looking at our boat covered with snow and ice. One could never have imagined it was a boat that lay there. It was like a big ice berg. Her spar was so covered with ice it looked like a great tree. Our boat was a side wheel steamer with a walking beam. Capt. Newberry was owner and master. He said to his mates, "Boys, when this old steamer of ours can weather such a gale she can go through anything." People came running down to the dock to see the steamer as the news spread. We laid there two days and nights to clear the snow and ice off and make some repairs so she could go to Buffalo to lay up for the winter. Brother Lewis said he could not tell how many barrels of salt were used on that trip to keep the boat from sinking with ice. Our ears were tired hearing the shovels scraping the snow and ice for the rest of the trip.

AT DETROIT AND CLEVELAND.

Our passengers began to feel better that the great storm was over and again we were moving. Many were to leave the boat at Detroit, as some were to cross over to the Canada side. At Detroit we remained for some time, our Captain's home being there. Mr. Crane, Elizabeth, William, Lewis and I went ashore. Mr. Crane bought me some red morocco shoes and a pretty red silk hood to match my red cloak. We had not many passengers after we left Detroit, and again the sea was rough with a heavy rain storm. When we reached Cleveland we again went ashore, walking about the city all morning, and in the afternoon Mr. Crane took a carriage and we drove about the city, seeing many handsome residences, but they could not get me to say anything I saw was nicer to me than my island home. That night there was a gale on Lake Erie so our boat laid in port. I was still homesick and the tears would come often, though I tried to keep them back. My brother Lewis was to leave us here at Cleveland, as this was where he was going to school. After he left us I was very lonely.

TRYING TO BE HAPPY.

Elizabeth said. "Now my dear child you must have patience. Spring will soon be here and we will take you home again. So now, have patience." All day long after she talked to me I kept repeating every little while. "Patience, patience; have patience." I did not know its meaning. At last I asked her what it meant. She tried to explain to me it meant not to worry, not to fret, to be quiet and wait, try to be happy, sing when I wanted to cry, and be cheerful and not give up to sadness. I repeated many times what she said to me and promised to do the best I could. How much I needed that lesson before my face was again turned homeward! I did not cry any more. I told Elizabeth my heart was getting too big and I was sure it would burst. When I felt so bad and it was hard to keep the tears back I took my doll Jane (I had named her after the dear, kind cabin maid) in my arms, rocking and singing some of my old French songs my mother had taught me. When Elizabeth looked at me I said, "Now I am getting patience." Soon the captain came in, saying, "Is this the little girl that is homesick?" I said, "Oh no, I'm not homesick any more. I have got patience." He laughed heartily. Elizabeth explained to him what I meant. He said, "No don't you get homesick any more. I will take you home next April on this old steamboat of mine. So get all the patience you can."

ON THE HEADLANDS.

At nine o'clock that evening we reached Fairport. It had been raining hard and the night was dark. We were ready to leave the boat. Jane, the cabin maid kissed me many times, saying, "Now my dear child try not to be homesick and we hope to meet you in the spring and take you home with us." We stepped ashore, it seemed to me the dock was moving from under us, we had been over a week on the boat. Elizabeth was soon with her brothers and sisters who had come to meet her. She took my hand saying, "This is my little friend, Elizabeth Whitney." They gave me a hearty welcome and I knew I was among friends. We hurried to the hotel kept by Mrs. Root in Fairport, where we remained all night. Next morning after breakfast we crossed over the river on the scow ferry, where we were met by Mr. Crane's carriage and we drove to their home on the Headlands. There Mrs. Crane was standing in her door to meet her husband and children. After all had greeted their father and mother, Mrs. Crane with the rest of the family gave me a kind welcome and I felt quite happy with them. Their nearest neighbor was Mr. Alexander Snell. He had been to Beaver Island and knew my parents. Mrs. Snell and everybody was very kind to the little "Island Girl," as I was called. Her sister, Mrs. Wright, was our neighbor at home. Mr. Crane's youngest child was a girl of five years, and a boy named Charley eight, so we children had great fun hunting hen's eggs in the big barn.

After one week one bright morning Mr. Crane took me in the carriage to Painesville to my new home. We crossed the Grand river at Fairport, then took the old plank road to Painesville. How the horses' hoofs did clatter as we drove on a fast trot! We stopped at the turn of the road, where Mr. Crane had two sisters living. Their house was on a pretty knoll on the right as we drove into Painesville. We had dinner with Mrs. Matthews. The other sister was a maiden lady called by the children "Aunt Margaret." They were all very kind to me.

IN MY NEW HOME.

After dinner we drove into Painesville up to the cottage door to my new home. The lady came to the door and knew at once I was the little girl she expected and said, "Come in." We stepped inside, Mr. Crane saying, "I have brought you this child as you directed me in your letter. Her father has put her in my care and I am responsible for her. If you do not like to keep her this winter I shall take her home with me. If you do take her and at any time don't want her, let me know. I shall come once every week to see her until I go back to the island, and of course you know she is to go back to her home with me unless she wants to stay and you want to keep her." The lady said, "Yes you have said just as my letter to her father reads." She looked at me, then turning to Mr. Crane she said, "She is so small she won't be able to help me much." Mr. Crane said, "Why you said in your letter you wanted her for company and to do little errands and chores for you and be with your children." "Yes," the lady said, "But I shall expect her to help me some." Mr. Crane told her, "You promised to send the child to school and I have money from her father to buy her books." The lady said, "Oh I know we shall like her." Then Mr. Crane handed her the money for my books, saying, "She has clothes enough. If there is anything more needed let me know." He gave her his address and went out to bring my trunk. He said, "Now my dear child, I hope you will be happy in your new home. I will come every week to see you." Turning to Mrs. Shepard, he said, "If this child gets sick let me know." He bent down and kissed me, the tears falling fast from his eyes, he bowed to Mrs. Shepard and hurried away.

The last link that reminded me of my island home was gone. Oh it was terrible! I tried to run after him to call him back. I wanted to say come back, come back and take me to your home. I could not speak, I could not move, never while life lasts can I forget how I felt when I saw Mr. Crane driving away in the carriage. I was among entire strangers in a strange land. A child of seven and a half years of age. The lady said, "Come to the fire you must be cold." She then took my cloak and hood. I sat down in a little chair. She went about the house at her work, never speaking to me. All was silent and quiet. In a little while the two little children, one a boy of three, the other a year old, just walking, came to me. The oldest brought me some toys and put in my hands, never speaking. Then the youngest came and put his little face up to mine. I kissed him, which seemed to please him, and soon I took him on my lap, where he soon fell asleep, while the other child was sitting quietly beside me on the floor playing with his toys. The lady took the child and laid him on the bed saying. "Do you like children?" I answered. "Yes Ma'm." It was the first word I had spoken since I entered the house. She took her sewing and never spoke. Oh how long the time seemed! I cannot tell how I felt. No tears would come to give me relief. At last she put her sewing away and began the supper. Then the lights were lit; the baby had wakened and I again took him in my arms. The other child stood close beside me.

MR. MILTON A. SHEPARD.

Soon the door opened and a man came in. The children cried, "Papa." He kissed the children saying, "Who is this little girl?" His wife told him, "This is the little island girl we expected." He took my hand, saying. "I am glad to see you. But wife what a little midget she is." He was a kind looking man with black hair and eyes. Supper was on the table. I was placed near the children. I tried to eat, but I could not swallow. The food stuck in my throat. Mr. Shepard noticed I did not eat, so he asked me if I would like some milk. I answered, "Yes, sir." Mrs. Shepard told him there was none only what the children had. I said, "Never mind," but little Henry gave me his cup full. I managed to drink it. When the meal was over I asked if I should do the dishes. "Not tonight, but tomorrow," she said. Mr. Shepard asked me a few questions about my island home, which was the only time in all my stay that my home or my parents were ever mentioned to me.

HOMESICK.

I was put to bed upstairs alone in a room. The first time in my life I was ever alone at night, but I was not afraid, only homesick. I took my doll Jane in my arms, saying my prayers I went to bed, but not to sleep. My thoughts went back to my home on the island. I could see my pets, father, mother and John sitting around the table, mother sewing, John reading, and the tears would come in spite of all my efforts to keep them back. Then I thought about what Elizabeth said to me that I must have patience, yes I must not cry and I would soon see brother Charley. I would ask Mr. Shepard in the morning about my brother. Then I whispered so low to Jane, telling her it was naughty to cry and complain, and that we must pray God to help us, asking her if she had forgotten the big storm when we were on the lake. In talking to my doll I fell asleep and only awoke when Mr. Shepard was building the fire in the morning. I was soon dressed and was down stairs, where I began dressing the children, and always after that I took care of them. The dear children, how they loved me and I loved them! Never once were they cross to me, and I hope I never was to them. Of course I could not comb my hair. It was long and heavy. Mrs. Shepard did it for me. I helped her with the dishes and soon learned how she did her work. She was very neat and her home was always in order. By standing on a little stool I could reach the dishes on the pantry shelves and soon could do the dishes alone and help about the other work.

GOING TO SCHOOL IN THE LITTLE RED SCHOOL HOUSE.

The next week I was sent to school in the little red school house. Miss Elizabeth Crawford was my teacher. She and her mother lived near the school house in a little vine covered cottage. I was very happy in school. Mr. Shepard heard my lessons in the evenings so he could see what progress I made. Mr. and Mrs. Shepard had both been teachers. The Christmas time was saddest for me, for then I missed my home the most.

MEETING BROTHER CHARLEY.

I was in Painesville over a month before I saw my brother Charley. He came one day and staid to dinner. I could scarcely believe it was he, he had grown so tall and seemed such a little man. After dinner we took the children on the sled and went to Mr. Shepard's shop where he made the wagons. Then we went down the bank to the river. At four o'clock he must start for home. I wanted him to stay all night, but he said he could not. The time came all too soon for him to go and with many promises to come again we bade good-by and he was gone. For days afterward I wondered "had I dreamed he was there or was it a reality." I never saw him again while I remained.

One morning soon after when Mrs. Shepard was combing my hair she took the shears and cut it off short. My heart was broken. She said, "I can't be troubled with your long hair every morning." Mr. Shepard was sorry, but said, "Never mind, it will grow again," which comforted me because I feared it would always be short like the Mormon women's hair. Mrs. Shepard had a niece boarding with her. She liked to tease me, telling me it would never grow again.

Every Sabbath I went to church and always had my verse learned for my Sabbath school teacher. One morning on my way to school I met Mr. Peter McKinley. He lived in a large house near our school. He was very glad to see me. To me it seemed like seeing some one from home. Mr. Crane came every week to see me, but I never saw him. Sometimes I was at school, twice I was in the house upstairs with the children but never knew he was there until he was gone. Spring was drawing near and I wondered if I ever would see Mr. Crane and go home.

One day Mr. and Mrs. Shepard left home and went to Willoughby. Her niece kept house and I helped her take care of the children. They were gone two days. The front door was always locked and I was told not to go to the door if anyone came. Once when I was on the street I saw Elizabeth Crane and her sister driving. They knew me and I knew them, but they were out of sight so quick I had not time to speak to them. Mr. and Mrs. Shepard came home. They began to pack their goods. Once I said, "Are you going away?" She said, "Yes, we are going to move to Willoughby."

A CHILD'S PRAYER.

All that night I lay awake. I knew then they intended to move and take me with them, and then I would never see my father and mother again. My heart was heavy, and all night I kept praying that God would help me to go to my own home. Mrs. Shepard had a sister living near, and next day I went to her, telling her I had not seen Mr. Crane and I feared I was to be taken away to another place and would never see my people again. She was a dear, kind lady, and she said, "I will see my sister about this," and she came right home with me. She talked with her sister for a long time. I did not hear their conversation, only I saw Mrs. Shepard was displeased. When Mrs. Robinson left she kissed me. I saw tears in her eyes. She had been so kind to me all winter. It was the one bright spot in that winter's life for me. The next morning we were to start for Willoughby. As I went to my room my heart was heavy with trouble. I took my doll Jane, telling her my sorrows and fears, but somehow Jane could not comfort me. I said to her, "It is because you don't know anything about my people. You have never been to Beaver Island." The moon was shining bright into my room. I lay a long time thinking and saying, "Oh, what shall I do!" I got out of bed and knelt beside it praying as I had never prayed before. I told God all about my sorrows, saying, "Oh won't you help me and take me home to my father?" My heart felt lighter. With Jane in my arms I lay me down to sleep and never wakened until Mr. Shepard called. We hurried our breakfast. Mrs. Shepard appeared nervous. My heart felt lighter than it had for many a day and I kept listening for carriage wheels which I felt sure would come. One load of goods had gone to the depot, the dray had just left the door with another and there were just a few things left for the last load. Our wraps lay on a chair.

A CHILD'S PRAYER ANSWERED.

Mr. Shepard had gone to the postoffice. A carriage drove up and stopped before our door. A lady came quickly in. I looked and saw it was Aunt Margaret, Mr. Crane's sister. I threw my arms about her, saying, "I am so glad to see you. Will you take me home?" She said, "Do you want to go?" "Yes, I want to go." She turned to Mrs. Shepard saying, "I see you are moving. I am Mr. Crane's sister. He was not able to see this child this winter. He sent me as the time is drawing near when my brother returns to the Island. He promised this child's father to bring her back if she wants to go." Mrs. Shepard told her she would have no interference and would keep me. "No," said Aunt Margaret, "Your letter reads the child could go home and come again if all was agreeable. And she says she wants to go and I shall take her. Elizabeth get your things on." I just flew I got my trunk, the lady putting it into the carriage. I was following her when Mrs. Shepard said, "Child aren't you going to kiss me and the children?" I put my arms about her neck, kissing her and caught the children in my arms with a hug and a kiss, then ran to the carriage.

Aunt Margaret lifted me to the seat, took the lines, and our horse just flew down the plank road till we arrived at Mrs. Matthews, where Mr. Crane was waiting for us. He came, saying, "Dear child how I have worried about you. When I saw I could never get to see you I sent sister Margaret and now you can go home on the steamboat Michigan." Oh what a happy child I was! All the sad, gloomy, lonesome days were forgotten. I was going home. Home to my father and mother. Going to my island home.

We soon started for the Headlands once again. The horses' hoofs clattered over the road to Fairport. We crossed the river, and in a short time were at Mr. Crane's house, where all the family met me with greetings of love. I entered school; Miss Marion Brooks was my teacher. I was at the Headlands three weeks when a letter came from the Captain of the steamboat Michigan to be ready at a certain date to meet the boat at Fairport. Mr. Crane made preparations, and on the date mentioned in the letter we were all in Fairport to take the steamboat. My brother had come from Cleveland.

HOMEWARD BOUND ON STEAMBOAT MICHIGAN.

How my heart swelled with joy when I heard the Michigan's whistle and saw the steamer nearing the dock. Mr. Crane's people were sad to have them go, but all was ready, good-byes were said and again the old familiar sound of "all aboard" was heard. We stepped upon the gang-plank. Jane met us with her pleasant greetings, lines were cast off, our boat was moving, we steamed out upon the waters of Lake Erie with many blocks of floating ice about us, and the sea gulls were again soaring high above us, uttering their shrill cries, as if they, too, were glad to have the spring time come. We reached Cleveland, where several families took passage for the island, some of whom were our boarders of the year before. At Detroit more came on board. Among the rest Mr. and Mrs. Loaney. They had been to Toronto, Canada, for the winter. There were many fishermen returning to the island on this first trip. More would follow later. The weather was fair. Our steamer had been repaired since that terrible trip in December.

The Captain said to me, "Little girl did you get lots of patience this winter?" At first I could not remember what he meant. Then it flashed through my mind and I answered, "Yes sir." He said, "Well child, I told you this old steamboat would carry you home and now you will soon be there." Jane was glad to see us all again, the tears ran down her face when I told her how homesick I was and what a comfort my Jane had been to me. It was pleasant enough for us to be on deck after we left Detroit. We stopped at almost every port. Lake Huron was calm and quiet this time with just a ripple on Saginaw Bay, but we could feel the motion of big swells, which sent many to their state rooms.

AT MACKINAC ISLAND.

We passed Bois Blanc, and were soon at the dock at Mackinac Island. This time green trees greeted our view, but the white fort on the hill with the flag waving over it looked just the same. The people were all out to greet the first steamboat of the season, it being sometime about the middle of April, 1852, old grandpa being among the rest. He was glad to see us, but sorry Charley was not among us. Again we walked the streets and climbed to the fort. The grass was springing up in the yards, and all nature told us spring had come. There were happy, cheerful smiles on people's faces, children were playing in the sunshine.

We had now left the dock and again there was waving and singing on the dock to cheer us on our way. Our boat moved out past Round Island. There were great blocks of drifting ice on every side. Near the little island of St. Helena we almost stopped to keep clear of the ice. We steamed past Hog Island, with little Hat Island looking white with ice packed about it. Over to the northward was all ice, which had not yet broken to drift. We soon were at the McKinley dock at the harbor; freight was taken on for Green Bay, again the "all aboard" was called and we steamed along past Big Sand Bay. We could see all the little homes that would soon be occupied by summer people.

HOME AGAIN.

Brother and I saw our home, with father, mother and John standing in the door. We waved to them; they saw and answered. Our boat was landed; father and John were there to meet us with other friends. I could scarcely wait for the gang plank to be put out. Ah well, the home coming was almost worth the waiting for. As soon as I had greeted father and John I ran up the dock for home, my little dog chasing after me. I met Mr. Cable hurrying down. As I ran past without stopping, he said, "Aren't you going to shake hands?" "Oh yes, but I am in such a hurry to get home," I answered. Oh the joy to be once more at home! I took both hands and dashed the water up into my face as I ran along the shore to our house. The sound of the waves seemed welcoming me home. I looked back once toward the boat and saw father with Elizabeth and the rest coming. I ran almost breathless into the house saying, "Mother I have come home." She hurried toward me saying. "Charley." Then she caught at the back of a chair. Her face was so pale I thought she would fall, and I gave her water to drink. She kissed me with her eyes full of tears. I whispered, "No, Charley has not come."

The rest came in. Mr. Crane's people were to stay with us until their house was ready. We were a happy family around our table at supper time.

I was now home and yet there was a sadness about it. We were not all together as we once had been. Father and mother had grown thin and pale. John said he could never tell how much we children had been missed. He had read his books, sung his songs and told his stories to pass away the winter evenings, and they had all worried much about the Michigan, knowing that we were out in that terrible storm when we left in the fall. I was busy for a few days visiting our neighbors and telling them about my trip and where I had been. My little friend Rose and her mother were glad to see me, as I could tell them about their people on the Headlands. Their Aunt Mary Snell and Cousins Andrus, Alva and the rest. There was a sweet little babe at Cable's. They called her Cora, and I was so glad, because now I could help take care of her. Somehow life had changed. Before going away the world did not seem to reach out very far beyond our island home, now it began to seem like a great big world to me, and many were the questions I asked John, which he was always glad to answer. Once I said, "John were you ever homesick?" After a minute he answered, "Yes, sometimes." I said, "I know what homesick means now."

A MOTHER'S LONGING TO SEE HER BOY.

Though life was busy with us, we missed Charley. Brother Anthony had returned from Green Bay, being delighted with his school, his uncle and aunt were so kind to him. One evening I went to the beach to sit beside the water. I wanted to hear its soft low whisperings again. I was not there long before I heard some one sobbing. I turned and mother was beside me. She said, "I came to look for you and I was thinking that perhaps Charley may never come home." She sat beside me silent for a time and then said, "Now we must not spend our time in sorrow. Sometime Charley may come." And she told me how anxious she was about a sick neighbor she was caring for, saying, "I shall depend on you, Elizabeth, to help me, and I want you to be careful never to repeat anything we talk about. There is much trouble among the Mormons themselves. Strang has been gone all winter, and some of the apostles refuse to obey the laws of polygamy. There are spies all about us and the Mormons are not our friends any more." I promised her I would be careful. She said, "Mr. Sinclair is afraid of his life, as he knows he may be made an example of for refusing to obey Strang's laws. I have many things to think about and do for this sick woman. And I want to tell you something else. Elizabeth Crane is going to be married in June. Charles Angel will come after her. Then her home will be in Saginaw and her sister Jennie will come in her place to keep house for her father. So now do not worry Elizabeth about anything, for she has lots of sewing and we must help her all we can."

Life was busy; our summer people were with us. Elizabeth Crane had left us never to return. Mr. Angel and she were married at Mackinac Island. When the boat came back her sister Jennie, a beautiful girl of nineteen, came to remain until fall, when she, too, married Mr. James Corlette of the Headlands. Mr. Crane, with others, left the island early in September, as the Mormons had taken every boat along the shore below Cable's dock, with the nets from the lake and fish from their fish houses. They left the island, never coming back again, just a few months before we, too, were obliged to leave or become Mormons.

MENOMINEE INDIAN FAMILY.

Sometime in June there came a canoe of Indians to our shore. They made their camp near us. Mother went to see them. When she came home she told us they were Menominee Indians come to fish for a time. They had been over to Cross Village visiting some friends. Their home was in Green Bay county. There were two small children, the Indian and his wife. The Indian woman was a pretty woman with jet black hair cut straight across the forehead, this being the fashion with Menominee squaws. Their wigwam was always nice and clean. She was a nice sewer, piecing pretty bed quilts, which always looked clean. Often when mother got in a hurry with her work she hired the Indian woman to scrub and wash, and other times to do some sewing. She was always smiling, showing her pretty white teeth.

One morning when I awoke I found father and Mr. Dora, a neighbor, had gone to Mackinac Island. They were gone about three days. When they came home father had clothing for mother which Mr. Cable did not keep in his store. Among the rest was a great quantity of bright colored glass beads and many yards of colored ribbon, which she put away in her trunk, saying to me, "Do not speak about what I have put away." Mother and the Indian woman were often together speaking softly, so I never knew what they said. Mother seemed anxious, and the Indian woman also seemed quiet and thoughtful.

Soon after father's return mother said to me, "Elizabeth I want you to let all your other work alone and string beads for me." I was delighted, for if there was anything I loved to do it was to string the pretty colored beads. So I began at once, each color on a strong thread. After stringing a great quantity in this way, then I made many strings in different colors, mixing the beads. As much as I enjoyed it I got very tired, and whenever I went to the camp the little Indian children were stringing beads and their mother was sewing, making deerskin moccasins, on which she sewed the beads, which were so pretty when finished. She made many pairs of them. Sometimes the Indian woman came to our house, helping mother and me to string the beads, which she did so fast, and talked so pleasantly in her own language, mother speaking her language as well as the other tribes' that lived around us. There were several camps of Chippewa Indians that lived along the shore that helped the fishermen clean their fish, and the women made oil from the fish refuse which sold for one dollar a gallon or more, according to quality. Most of these Indians came from Garden Island.

THE ROBBERS' DEN.

Our Mormon friends who used to come to our house did not come any more. There were two who sometimes came in a few minutes, but never remained long. Everybody was anxious to know what the king would do about his people when he came back. Many of the Mormons believed Strang would take no notice of the refusal of some of his elders to practice polygamy, while others thought that the man who hoped to have Strang's place would influence him to make them suffer the penalty, which the Mormons themselves told us was death, this elder contending severe measures was the only way to enforce obedience to the law.

Having already organized a band of forty thieves, these men were being trained to go out and do all the robbing from the Gentiles they saw fit to do. The two men who headed the band were brothers and were large and powerful men, Isaac and John Pierce. They were well suited to do such work. The place they chose to secrete their stolen goods was a long point at the lower end of Beaver Island, distant about three miles from the harbor. This place was called by them "Rocky Mountain Point." Being an out-of-the-way place they would not be seen secreting much of their plunder.

WAKING AND SEEING INDIANS IN MY ROOM.

One night I was awakened out of a sound sleep by hearing footsteps in the room. I opened my eyes and saw mother with the Indian woman and another woman going up stairs. I waited sometime for them to come down, but fell asleep before they came. I was awakened again. There was a very dim light in the room. I saw a tall Indian who seemed to walk about very feeble as if sick. His black hair was pulled over his eyes and he held his hand up as if to shade his eyes from any light. There were two Indian women in the room, one the Menominee woman, the other was a stranger but she wore her hair cut across the forehead. She seemed young and was dressed very beautifully. Her moccasins were trimmed with pretty beads, and many strings of bright colored beads were about her neck, and I thought she must be a princess, the daughter of a chief. She and the Indian walked about the room several times, while mother and the Menominee woman spoke to them in their language, they answering in the same. I saw father nod and smile, at which they all took up parcels and small bundles from the table and walked out in single file.

DEPARTURE OF THE INDIANS.

I waited some little time, and hearing nothing I got frightened, thinking father and mother had gone away and left me, I got up, ran out of doors and met mother. She took a blanket from my bed, saying, "Come Elizabeth and see the Menominee Indians, they are going away. They must go home and see to their crops and cannot stay here any longer." I said, "Where did the other two come from?" She made a quick motion, putting her hand over her mouth, which I understood was to be silent and ask no questions. We were both speaking in French. I followed her to the beach, where a large birch bark canoe was packed. I saw four little children packed away Indian fashion, each had a little black puppy dog in his arms. The tall sick Indian got in first, seating himself and smoking his pipe, then the young Indian woman followed, then the Indian and his wife. There were many "bou shou's" (good-byes) spoken in subdued tones. The Indian and his wife took the paddles, father gave one hard push and away sped the bark canoe over the blue water. The sky was just getting red in the east, little birds were twittering in the branches of the trees, we all stood watching the fast receding canoe, which soon looked a speck upon the water. I ran to the house and crept into bed, and when I awakened the sun was high. I asked mother where the Indians were now; she answered. "They are far away." All day she seemed cheerful, and I heard her sing for the first time since I came home from Ohio. I wandered down to the Indian camp and all I saw was just a few marks where the wigwams had stood. No rubbish was lying about. They had vanished as if they had never been. Surely "They had folded their tents like the Arabs and as silently stole away."

THE APOSTLE AND HIS FAMILY AMONG THE INDIANS.

It was eight years afterward when I learned just who it was that stole away on that quiet morning in the bark canoe. I was living for a short time in the Green Bay country. I was invited out one afternoon to a quilting party. The men were to come for supper and a lady was to play for us on the violin, she being an accomplished musician. She had come there from Baltimore for her health. As we sat at our quilting in the afternoon, one of the women asked the lady of the house why it was they had settled there near the Menominee Indian reservation, and if they were not afraid to be killed sometime by the Indians. Then the lady of the house explained and told her story of how her husband, herself and children had been saved by one family of these Indians with the help of a white family, and this was why her husband was devoting his time to preaching among the Indians. I, being a stranger in the place, had not met this family before, but had been invited to their home with others. Before she had finished I seemed to understand it all. I knew now what all the beads and bright colored ribbons were used for and I knew who the tall sick Indian was with the pretty young Indian woman and the two little children with the others in the canoe. When I made myself known to the lady and her family they were overjoyed to see me. I met them several times afterward, and she told me how they crossed over to the north shore and kept along close to the shore, camping many times where the Indian and his wife set their net and caught all the fish they needed to eat, all the time teaching them to speak their language. They did not go direct to the Indian settlement until fall, then her husband concluded to settle among them and act as a missionary to them. Never very strong in health he had grown stronger in the open air life. Their children were educated at Green Bay.

I will try to tell just a little of this woman's story. Of how they came to Beaver Island with many others, and how they got away from the Island after much sorrow.

THE APOSTLE'S WIFE'S STORY.

Our home was in a small town in New Jersey. We had a little farm and were very comfortable. It was spring time, our crops were planted and growing. It was told us one day two men had asked for our little church to hold a meeting in for a couple of evenings and the whole neighborhood was invited to attend. My husband being an elder in our little church we, with many other neighbors went to hear the men speak. They were both good talkers and we were all greatly interested. They continued the meetings a week and we all became so interested they were invited to remain longer. One claimed to be a minister, the other an elder. They told a great deal about the Land of Promise they had found. My husband's two brothers were ready to join and prevailed upon my husband to come with them. About thirty were ready to follow the new preaching. They left us to go to other parts and told us to be ready at a certain time, when they would come back and take us with them. We sold our little farm and stock at a great sacrifice, keeping only our bedding and clothing, as they told us it was a long journey. We waited for them to come until November and had almost given up in despair, when one day they came. When we started there were twenty-five grown people with their children. We had two small children, twins, a boy and a girl. Our hopes were high, we were going westward they told us. We took a steamboat at Buffalo, as they told us no railroad had yet been built to reach there. The trip was hard, cold and tedious. Not one of us had ever been on the water before. We were afraid and we were all sick, but we stood it as bravely as possible and hoped for better times.

It was a dark, stormy night when we landed. Snow was falling. We were a cold, shivering company as we stumbled along up the dock. We were taken into a house, where we soon had a warm supper and were told we could sleep on the floor if we had bedding of our own, as their beds were all full. We made our beds and found it very cold, as doors were opening and shutting until almost morning. We were all put into one large room which was very bare of furniture. Children cried and there was not very much sleep. At the first peep of day most of us were up to take our first look at the Promised Land. At first we tried to look out of the windows, but they were steamed and frosty and we could not see. We then went out of doors. Our first glance was out on the cold, rough water of a little harbor, as they called it, and never shall I forget the lonely feeling that came over me. All was silent but the sound of the waves that washed upon the shore. What little ground was visible where the snow had drifted was all bare white sand. There were many pretty evergreen trees back a short distance from the water. There being few houses visible we were told the houses and farms were farther back in the country. We were called to breakfast, and when it was finished we were told we could go to the King's house, which was pointed out to us, and he would direct us what to do next. "The King's House." What did they mean? We had never heard of any king. They said, "You will soon know. We are ruled by a king who has revelations direct from God. There are twelve apostles to rule with him, and out of this company of people he will choose four more which are needed." Our surprise was great. We were anxious to know all, so were taken to the King's house. He met us very kindly and explained many things to us. He talked considerable about his revelations and what he hoped to do for his people. His manner was very captivating, and we all felt much encouraged after he had talked with us. We were all divided up among the other families on the island until we could build our homes. We were there over a week before we knew for certain we were on an island. To me it was a terrible shock but we had no time to think much about it only what we should do to provide shelter for the long winter. The King soon left to go travelling for the winter to bring more converts in the spring.