Chapter VII: Letter VI: July 2, 1840 (1)

_Dear E._--Rocked by the tempest we slept soundly, but arose in time to witness a glorious sunrise scene upon lake Erie. We were in the centre of the lake--no land was visible on either side, save two lonely islands, one of which was just vanishing upon the distant horizon, while the other one was only a short distance from our vessel. Suddenly a dazzling radiance shot up from the east, and in a few moments the sun came rushing from out the water as if in eager haste to greet his favorite lake. A flood of glory lighted up the green depths of Erie; tinging the foam with a thousand prismatic hues, and tipping with gold the white plumage of the birds which were soaring over our heads. The dark alleys of beech, maple, and hickory which covered the island, and its pebbly shore covered with diamond spray, were illumined with the morning rays, receiving new beauty from every touch. We were stretching from Sandusky bay upon the Ohio shore to the Detroit river; many islands were passed, some of them quite large. Cuningham island contains 2,000 acres. They are of limestone rock covered with forest trees. Here was the scene of the famous naval battle upon lake Erie, and these peaceful glades once echoed with the cannon’s roar. I regretted not seeing Sandusky, a large and pretty town, situated upon a river and bay of the same name. Here also is the mouth of the Maumee river, or the Miami of the lakes, northern termination of the great canal which commences at Cincinnati, and is connected with the canals of Indiana.

Land began to appear upon our western quarter, and soon the State of Michigan became visible. The mouth of Detroit river was soon after seen here, five miles wide from the Canadian shore to Michigan. At Amherstburg, a small Canadian town, we stopped about seven o’clock, for the purpose of taking in wood. The flashing of bayonets and the red uniform, as the sentinel walked up and down the wharf, told us we were in a land belonging to another nation. Fort Malden is passed soon after. Upon a platform, in front of the fortress, a file of soldiers were going through their exercises, their brilliant scarlet dresses and arms, prettily flashing back the morning sun. A boat, filled with red-coated soldiers, was passing over to an island to relieve the guard which stood upon a romantic point, near his little sentry box. A large ship came rapidly down the river, with all its sails out, looking like a huge bird of prey winging his flight to the shore, adding to the variety of the scene. Detroit is a beautiful river, connecting lakes St. Clair and Erie. Its width is generally about a mile--opposite Detroit city three-fourths of a mile. The shores are very beautiful, cultivated upon each side, with several pretty islands in the centre. Upon the Canadian side we observed several French settlements, their windmills upon every point giving a novel and unique effect to the scene. We did not reach Detroit until ten o’clock, although it is only 19 miles from the mouth of the river, owing to our delay in taking in wood. The city appeared well, covering a plateau of ground elevated 40 feet above the river. Three steamboats were in sight as we approached, one being a ferry boat to the town of Sandwich, opposite. As we were to remain here some time we landed and walked about the city. The city stands upon a plain which commands an extensive view of the river and surrounding country. A broad street runs through the centre called Jefferson avenue, lined on each side with shops and hotels. At the upper end are several handsome dwellings surrounded with gardens. The churches are common in their appearance, except the catholic, which I must say was uncommon. It is a large building of unpainted wood, having two odd looking steeples exactly alike, in the centre of the front; at the back is a dome having on each side a belfrey. Adjoining this is the residence of the Bishop, a large brick building. I was disappointed in the appearance of this city. It was built by the French, you know, in 1670, and being so much older than Rochester or Buffalo, we naturally supposed it would be larger than it is. But the same causes do not operate here which influence the prosperity of the other cities. It has not the old and settled state of New York behind it, nor the great canal. Michigan, of which Detroit is the capital, has been recently settled, and that only in the southern parts. The fur trade was for years its main dependence, and that has of late fallen off very much. As man invades the recesses of the forest, the animals retreat before him. Detroit has, however, felt the wind in her sails, and is rapidly following after her southern sisters. Of this, the increase of population is one proof--2,222 being their number in 1830, and 1839, 9,278. Several railroads are planned out, which, when the river and lakes are filled with ice, will be of much service. Of these, the Detroit and St. Joseph are the principal--leading from this city across the State to lake Michigan, a distance of 194 miles; 33 miles are completed. Many persons take this route to Chicago, in preference to the more extensive one around the lakes. Besides these, there are in contemplation the Detroit and Pontiac; Shelby and Detroit, &c. Michigan will soon fill up, as its population has increased since 1830, seven hundred per cent.; then it was 28,600, and now, in 1840, they count 211,205. Detroit will then be the great depot of the lakes, and bids fair to rival the neighboring cities. Here we landed our German emigrants, who were bound to the rich plains of Michigan. Upon the wharf were men busily engaged packing white fish salted, with barrels, fifty of which we took on board. The white fish is a delicious fish, something the form of our shad, averaging from 4 to 10 lbs. and sometimes weigh 14 lbs. There is a great trade of this fish upon the lakes. 30,000 barrels were exported from Cleveland this season. While passing the city, when we had resumed our voyage, we observed several rows of handsome ware houses, many of which seemed as if newly erected. We also noticed a large brick building erected for the hydraulic works which supply the city with water, it being in these lakes fit for cooking, washing and drinking. This city is the scene of one of Pontiac exploits. He was one of those brave and haughty spirits who cannot accustom themselves to the yoke of the white men. Of these, a few have appeared in latter years; Black Hawk being the last. The French he had become accustomed to, and suffered their presence in his realms, but when another nation appeared he determined to root them out the land. They were at peace apparently, but a deceitful peace, for Pontiac was organizing a confederacy against the English, who then occupied Detroit. ‘There was no sounding of the tocsin, no alarm of war given, no motion of the waves were felt,’ to quote the words of McKenney--‘In this moment of stillness, a scout returned bringing the intelligence that a large body of Indians were crossing lake St. Clair in canoes, and coming in the direction of Detroit, while numerous bands were appearing at every point.’ Pontiac appeared in the neighborhood with 3,000 warriors, who, in a friendly manner approached the fort, erected their wigwams, and commenced their Indian games, to lull all suspicion. That very band, unknown to the English, had just returned from the bloody massacre of Fort Michilimackinack, which they had surprised in the manner they now intended. Major Gladwin, however, suspected them, and admitted only six Indians at a time in the fort. The wily Pontiac at length succeeded in having a council held at the fort, and was permitted to attend with thirty-six chiefs. Their rifles were cut short and hid under their robes, with which they were to shoot down the officers and seize the fort. Were it not for the fidelity of a squaw to her master in the fort, the plan would have succeeded. As it was, they suffered severely from famine, and many were cut off who came to reinforce them, before the Indians finally retreated. Ten miles from Detroit the river gradually expands into lake St. Clair. A pretty lake--a most sweet lake--appearing small among its larger sisters, and yet it is 90 miles in circumference. The waters are cool and transparent, fringed with the graceful ash, the linden, ‘tasseled gentle,’ the beech, and the stately lioriodendron, and many other varieties. We felt reluctant to enter and ruffle the glassy surface, and disturb the profound repose which reigned around. The shores are low and there are no houses in sight. A wood cutter’s hut, and at its extremity, a light-house, were the only signs of life we saw. The trees were throwing their flickering shadows upon the placid water, or leaning over, as if to admire their own reflection so perfectly painted upon the mirrored surface,--

In which the massy forest grew,
As if in upper air;
More perfect both in shape and hue,
Than any waving there.

If you do not choose to emigrate to any of those charming spots I have mentioned along the road; if Auburn, or Rochester, or Cleveland do not lure you, perhaps you would like to come to the picturesque shores of St. Clair, and weave you a bower ‘in some sweet solitary nook’ under those trees of ‘ancient beauty;’ or erect a picturesque hermitage with a pet skull, and moralize and spiritualize your hours away. I have heard many declare they could better worship their Creator in the fields and woods than in temples made with hands, and can ‘look from nature up to nature’s God.’ I fear such are greatly deceived in the nature of their feelings, and many a lonely anchorite has thus mistaken adoration of the beauties of creation for worship of its Creator. His heart may be filled with the most elevated emotions while contemplating the glory and grandeur of God’s works, and he may be subdued to tears of tenderness while reflecting upon that kindness and mercy which has adorned the residence of man with such exquisite loveliness; but will that regenerate his heart? will it give him a knowledge of his Savior; shew him the mysteries of faith and redemption, and subject his will to that of Christ? If so, let him live upon a mountain top, and gaze at will; but I much fear these sentiments are but the ‘semblance of sacredness.’

The shores of St. Clair, being low, display the rise which has taken place in these northern lakes. That there is a rise and fall in this singular mass of fresh water has been observed for many years; and many opinions have been hazarded as to its cause. Some of the Indians declare there is a regular rise and fall every seven years; while the scientific traveller, Darby, tells us there is a rise once in fifty years. A person, upon whose knowledge we could rely, told us at Buffalo, one year, while he resided upon the banks of the St. Lawrence, the current ran out of lake Ontario at the rate of ten miles, and the next year the lake had unaccountably risen, and ran thirteen miles an hour. It must have been one of those extraordinary floods, of course much higher, which caused the lakes to overflow, as I have mentioned above--that is, if it were not a diluvial torrent. The captain of our steamboat, who had navigated these lakes for several years, a man of intelligence and integrity, agreed with the Indians in the belief of a gradual rise and fall in seven years. During these last two years the water has risen to the height of five or six feet. Our captain pointed to many spots, upon the shore, where the water had overflowed the land. Upon one pretty place a farm house had been abandoned, and a fine apple orchard, standing two years in the water, had been destroyed; and now, while all around was green, their limbs were bare and leafless. A very intelligent man, a settler upon the river St. Clair, pointed to several noble maple and beech trees, as we passed the Michigan shore, whose gradual decay he had watched, while making his spring and fall trips in order to purchase goods in New York. It was pitiable, he said, to behold such goodly trees, ‘green robed senators of ancient woods,’ sinking beneath the subtle destroyer, as some noble heart withering away at the touch of affliction! He watched them with an interest he would a friend consuming under a slow decay--their glorious beauty dimmed and faded, until a lifeless skeleton alone remained.

“a huge oak dry and dead,
Still clad with relics of its trophies old,
Lifting to heaven its aged hoary head,
Whose foot on earth hath got but feeble hold.”

This man’s history interested us much, and I will relate it for your edification. He was a native of our city of New York, one of a large family straightened for means. While quite young he had married, and struggled for years to support his family respectably, but sickness and ‘bad times’ rendered his lot a gloomy one. Hearing so often of the happiness and prosperity of ‘the west,’ he resolved to remove thither, and accordingly bought a tract of land upon St. Clair river, then farther west than it now is. He came here twenty years since, with a wife and several young children, and a mere trifle in money. A little village has now risen around him, of which he is the owner. He has built a good tavern for travellers, which he rents out; has erected a saw-mill; a few shops and houses, and a little church. His children are married and settled around him; and he is, as he expressed himself, ‘independent of the world.’ Once a year he goes to New York or Buffalo, to purchase goods for his shop. How much better is this state of things than to remain, struggling for a morsel, among the hungry crowd of a large city. I asked him if he never repented renouncing a city life. ‘No, indeed!’ he answered--‘I go there once or twice a year to transact business, but hurry away, for I feel as if in prison. I want elbow room, and never breathe free until threading my green lakes and vast forests again. I am glad to leave such fictitious existence, where each man models his conduct upon that of his neighbor, and dare not act as his spirit prompts him.’ We had passed into St. Clair river, and about sun-down dropped this man and his goods at his little village, which was seated upon a green slope, cut out of the forest, upon the Michigan shore. The houses were surrounded by little gardens and seemed comfortable.

The sign of the village inn was swinging in the summer breeze; a traveller had just alighted from his horse in front of the piazza, and the steam from his mill was rising high above the trees tinted purple in the evening light. From a shop door a young man, probably his son, accompanied by a neighbor, stepped forth to greet him; while, from the honeysuckle-covered porch of a neat cottage a woman, whom I fancied his wife, was looking eagerly out to watch his approach. Every thing denoted industry, cheerfulness, and independence.

Soon after leaving the village of Clay, we observed a ship at anchor near the shore, quite a picturesque object. It proved to be the Milwaukie, a ship of three hundred tons burthen, bound from Buffalo to Chicago. It was waiting for wind, or steam, to enable it to enter lake Huron, as this lake pours into the river St. Clair with so strong a current, that vessels can seldom stem it without a strong wind. She was soon attached to our steamboat, and we both passed swiftly along. What a superb western sky! The sun has long left us, and yet we scarcely miss its light, so golden and so brilliant is the mantle he has left behind him. It is nearly nine o’clock, and yet I can see to write this, but fatigue drives me to my cabin, and forces me to say adieu until to-morrow.

* * * * *

_July 3d._--Still in the river St. Clair. We stopped some hours in the night at Newport, to take in a supply of wood. The captain purchased eighty cords at $1,50 a cord. He told us it was his opinion the steamboats upon these waters would soon be obliged to burn coal, although surrounded by such a world of trees, as there is so much time wasted in stopping for it. I did not regret our detention, as I was anxious to lose no part of a scenery to me so novel and pleasing. This is a beautiful river about sixty miles long, and half a mile broad, having several little towns upon it. Cotrelville and Palmer we had also passed in the night; the latter a thriving place, from which a rail road is contemplated to Romeo, twenty-six miles, there to meet the Shelby and Detroit rail road. A communication will thus be continued with Detroit through the winter. The country upon the Canadian shore is wild and uninhabited, while the Michigan side of the river is frequently adorned with fields of grass or wheat, or thrifty orchards. The houses are plain, but seemed surrounded by every comfort. Our course ran quite near this shore, so close, that I might fancy myself transported into the midst of a farm yard, with all its morning business going on. A pretty white wood house is before me now, surrounded by fields and barns, having a row of cherry trees in front whose fruit is glistening red in the morning sun. In the barn yard a man is chopping wood, to cook the breakfast, I suppose--another is busy hoeing in a potatoe field--a boy is leading a horse down to the river for water, while numerous other children are arrested in their play and stand open mouthed gazing at us--ducks are dabbling in the wavelets--pigs are rooting up the turf--a flock of geese are running down the bank at us with beaks and wings extended in a warlike attitude--while a sober cow chews her cud under a large hickory nut tree. The next moment all is gone, to give place to the silent groves of oak, maple and ash. Upon a long narrow island near the Canadian shore, my eyes were attracted by what seemed a row of haystacks. I enquired the meaning, and was told I was looking upon an Indian village, and these were wigwams. I was delighted to behold a veritable Indian lodge, and to see _real_ Indians, instead of those half civilized beings I had met at Niagara. They are a body of Chippeway Indians who reside upon Warpole Island under the care of a Missionary of the Methodist church. Their wigwams consisted of poles meeting at top, around which, coarse matting, formed of reeds is fastened. From the apex of these cones smoke was rising, telling of culinary operations going on within. Around each lodge was a small patch of potatoes or corn. A small church, with the missionary cottage and a few log cabins, were in the midst. Groups of Indians were lounging upon the bank gazing at us, while others unconcernedly pursued their usual occupations of fishing or hoeing. How much more graceful were those wild sons of the forest, than the civilized men I had observed upon the shores I had passed. Their mantles of cloth or blanket stuff, trimmed with gay colors, were gracefully thrown around them, and their ornamented leggins or moccasins glittered as they walked. How dignified is the tread of an Indian! we remarked as we passed the island, many in various occupations and attitudes, yet they never moved awkwardly, nor sprang, nor jumped in a clumsy manner. The missionary cottage was an object of great interest to us. I had often read of these self-denying disciples of Jesus, but never before looked upon the scene of their labors. Here in this lonely shore, away from all they love--their friends and home--and almost shut out from the face of civilized man, they spend their days in laboring to ameliorate the lot of these unhappy children of the forest. In bringing them to the feet of their master, they are indeed conferring a blessing upon them past all return. As a recompense for the bright land their fathers have taken from the bereaved Indian, they are leading them to another, brighter and more lasting. There is no change, nor shadow of turning--there, no enemy can destroy their homes--there, the tears are wiped from their eyes, and all their sorrows soothed. Noble missionary, who can appreciate thy sacrifice? None but those who have come from a civilized land, where thou hast passed thy early days, and who now sees thee among the endless forests with no associates save those wretched savages, can understand the greatness of thy disinterestedness. During the short summer, a residence may be tolerable, but when the rivers and lakes are choaked up by ice, the short glimpse he has obtained of his fellow man, while whirled past in a steamboat, will be denied him. The roar of the winter wind will shake his cottage, and the wolf will scare him from his slumbers. But what are earthly joys or sorrows to a child of Christ? His meat and drink is to do the will of him that sent him, and in return for the comforts and pleasures of civilized life, he receives a peace ‘the world cannot give’--a joy, David in all the glory of his kingly life sighed for, when he prayed ‘Give me the joy of thy salvation.’ A small settlement is formed at the mouth of Black river, called Port Huron, which is to be the termination of another canal across the state.

Here we found another vessel waiting for wind. It was the brig Rocky Mountain, bound to Green Bay, being attached to our other side we passed ‘doubly armed.’ Near the point where the river leaves lake Huron stands fort Gratiot, an United States military station whose white walls and buildings, over which the American flag was waving, looked out brightly from among the dark forest of the Michigan shore. A line of blue coats were going through their morning drill; and a few cannons looked out fiercely upon us. A small white Gothic church, and a cottage stood near; the whole making a pretty cabinet picture. The river now narrowed to a quarter of a mile, upon each side a point--the American side crowned by a light-house, and the Canadian by a cluster of Indian cabins. A bark canoe, paddled by five Indians, pushed off the shore and came after us with the greatest rapidity, their long black hair flying wildly behind them. Our two vessels retarded our motion a little, so that the Indians overtook us, and kept at our side for some distance. They used their paddles with astonishing quickness, and we were surprised to see them in their ‘light canoe,’ keep pace with our large steamboat. It was however for a short distance only--they were soon fatigued with such great exertion, and turned towards the point, and sprang out, or rather stepped out with the greatest dignity, drew the canoe to the shore, and then _squatted_ down upon the bank evidently enjoying their race. I use the above inelegant word, as being very expressive of their posture. The Indian never sits down as we do--with his feet close beside each other, and his body erect, he sinks slowly down--his blanket is then thrown over his head and around his feet, so that nothing is seen except his dark glaring eyes. Through the narrow pass before mentioned, between the two points, the waters of Huron run with a swift current. Here we were furnished with another evidence of the rise of these waters.

An officer of the army and his wife were our fellow voyagers, very intelligent and agreeable persons. They had been stationed at fort Gratiot a few years since, and had frequently roved over the beach around the light-house in search of the pretty silecious pebbles, agate, camelian, and calcedony, which are often found upon these shores. To their surprise, they now found their favorite point, ‘curtailed of its fair proportions’ by a rise of nearly five feet of water. Our steamboat and its two ‘tenders,’ passed between the points out of St. Clair river, and we found ourselves at once in a large and shoreless lake, with nothing in front, between us and the bright blue sky, which touched the green waters in the far horizon beyond. The transition is so sudden from the narrow opening, to the boundless lake as to produce a grand and exciting effect. Once out upon the calm waters of Huron, our two guests were loosened from their tackles, and spreading their huge wings, they passed one to each shore, and we soon left them far behind. About an hour after, the bell of our steamboat startled the still lake with its clamors, denoting the approach of some vessel. We looked out in time to see the noble steamboat Great Western rush past us as if upon the wings of a whirlwind. She was on her way from Chicago to Buffalo. Her bell answered ours, and the deck was crowded with passengers. One of these standing alone by himself, and taking his hat off attracted our notice and we discovered in him an old acquaintance from New York. These meetings in a distant land are very interesting, carrying our feelings at once to the home we had left. This steamboat is one of the largest upon the lakes, is finished in a style of great elegance, and is said to be as long as the English steamship of the same name.

This whole day since ten o’clock--we have been passing through Huron under a cloudless sky. The lake is two hundred and fifty-five miles long, and its waters are of a deeper tint than those we have passed, owing to its great depth, as we are sailing over nine hundred feet of water, while in some places it is said to be unfathomable. The color is a dark olive almost black, and it is only when the sun shines through the waves that we can perceive they are green. The cause of the various colors of water has produced many a hypothesis. Sir Humphry Davy tells us the primitive color of water is like the sky, a delicate azure.[13] He says ‘the finest water is that which falls from the atmosphere--this we can rarely obtain in its pure state, as all artificial contact gives more or less of contamination; but, in _snow melted by the sunbeams_ that has fallen upon glaciers, themselves formed from frozen snow, may be regarded as in its state of greatest purity. Congelation expels both salt and air from water whether existing below, or formed in the atmosphere; and in the high and uninhabited region of glaciers, there can scarcely be any substances to contaminate. Removed from animal and vegetable life, they are even above the mineral kingdom.’ Water from melted snow, then considered as the purest, Sir Humphrey goes on to describe its color. ‘When a mass is seen through, it is a bright blue, and according to its greater or less depth of substance, it has more or less of this color.’ ‘In general when examining lakes and masses of water in high mountains, their color is the same bright azure. Capt. Parry states that water in the Polar ice has the like beautiful tint.’ The brown, green, and other colors of rivers he imputes to substances over which they flow, as peat bogs, vegetable and mineral substances. He allows the sea cannot be colored from any thing upon the bottom, but imputes the tint to the infusion of iodine, and brome which he has detected in sea water, the result of decayed marine vegetables. Of this primitive water are our lakes formed, originating as they do in regions of snow and ice. Lake Superior, from whence they flow, is a vast basin of trap rock, of volcanic origin.[14] It is the most magnificent body of water in the world, five hundred miles long, and nine hundred deep, and perfectly pellucid. Into this pure, and originally, azure primitive water, there flow forty rivers, upon the south side alone, according to Mr. McKenney of the Indian department, who counted this number from St. Mary’s to the river St. Louis. These rivers he tells us are all _amber colored_. Why then may not these yellow rivers flowing into blue water, produce _green_. You see I like to hazard a hypothesis as well as others. I hope you will not call this absurd. Col. McKenney himself, imputes the green color to reflection of the ‘rays of light passing through the foliage of the shores, conveying their own green hue unto the surface of the water from which they are reflected.’ This might be the case in small rivers or lakes, but it cannot thus tint such a vast extent of water. A writer in the American Journal of Science, is of opinion the color of water is reflected from the sky, and is blue, dull, black, or golden, as the sky may be--and that ‘green is produced in water, by the yellow light of the sun mixed with the cerulean blue through which it shines.’ On the contrary the Count Xavier de Maistre,[15] does not impute the color of water to any infused substance, nor to reflection from above, but reflection from the surface below, ‘as the blue color of the sky is owing to reflection from the earth beneath.’ ‘Limpid waters, when they have sufficient depth,’ says the Count, reflect like air, a blue color from below,--and this arises from a mixture of air, which water always contains to a greater or lesser amount. This blue color, being the primitive hue of water is sometimes clouded or lost by earthy infusion, or reflections from a colored sky. The green tinge which he sometimes observed in water, he tells us, is occasioned by reflection from a _white_ surface below. This he proves by his experiment of a sheet of tin painted white let down beneath the water--and his description of the water in the beautiful limestone grotto, on the shore of the Mediteranian at Capri. The green tint observed in the ocean is only seen when it is so shallow, as to reflect the sun’s rays from the earth beneath it.

As the States surrounding these lakes are more or less underlaid by limestone, we may suppose the bottoms of the waters are in some places paved with it; and from this, or the shores under the water and around it, may be reflected, according to the Count’s theory, the light which gives the water a green appearance. But I will not trouble you with any more speculations; they come with an ill grace from me who only pretend to describe all that passes before my eyes.

In the afternoon we were off Saginaw bay, an indentation in the coast of Michigan running seventy or eighty miles deep and forty wide, making the lake here very broad; in one spot we were out of sight of the land. A river of the same name flows into the bay, upon which, about twenty-three miles from its mouth, is a small town. A canal is proposed from this bay, across the state to lake Michigan, at Grand or Washtenog river. How shall I convey to you an idea of the loveliness which sat upon earth, air, and water this afternoon! Certainly that sunset upon lake Huron is the most beautiful I have ever beheld. The vast and fathomless lake, bounded by the heavens alone, presented an immense circle, ‘calm as a molten looking-glass,’--to quote from my favorite Job--surrounded by a band of fleecy clouds, making a frame work of chased silver. Slowly and gracefully sank the orb, the white clouds gently dispersing at his approach, and leaving their monarch a free and glorious path. As he drew near that chrystal floor, all brilliancy faded from the face of the lake, save one bright pathway from the sun to us--like the bridge of Giamschid leading from earth to heaven. The sun which I had always been accustomed to see above, was now below me, near the water, on the water, under the water! A veil of purple is thrown over it, and now the sun sleeps on lake Huron. The gold and rose which painted the western sky have gone. Darkness has stolen over the world below, and we turn our eyes above. What a high and noble dome of loveliest blue! Upon one side there hangs a crescent of the purest pearly white, while at its side steals forth one silver star, soon followed, as, saith Ezekiel, by ‘all the bright lights of heaven,’ until night’s star-embroidered drapery is canopied around us. What bosom is insensible to this gorgeous firmament? Who hath not felt the ‘sweet influence of the Pleiades’ while gazing at this starry roof above? I wish I could make you a piece of poetry upon this subject, but as there is enough already composed upon the stars, I will send you a bit of Byron and tell you--

Blue roll the waters--blue the sky
Spreads like an ocean hung on high,
Bespangled with those isles of light,
So wildly spiritually bright,
Whoever gazed upon them shining,
And turned to earth without repining.

Do you remember that little hymn our old nurse used to teach us in our childhood:

Twinkle, twinkle, pretty star
Can’t you tell us what you are,
Up above the world so high
Like a diamond in the sky.

Yes, from childhood to manhood, we wish to penetrate into the mysteries of those golden regions, and ever ask them to tell us ‘what you are.’ We see them gem the night with their lustrous beauty; we watch them as they pace their azure courts, and lose ourselves in high imaginings, too vast for us, while earth still keeps our souls its prisoner. How much deeper must be the interest with which the astrologer of old followed them in their ‘golden tracks.’ In them he read his destiny, and thought to see the scenes of earth reflected in their light. How must he have gazed upon them, as their rays paled or brightened, while reading in them ‘the fate of man and empires.’ Man’s efforts to penetrate the mysteries of these glorious creations have not been all in vain. The Almighty architect, from time to time, graciously bestows upon him, knowledge of ‘parts of his ways.’ How much more has been vouchsafed to us than to the early nations. Looking back through the vista of the past, we shall see great men appear, as ‘stars to rule the night’ of our darkness and tell us of creation’s mysteries. Solomon, Ptolemy, Gallileo, Copernicus, Tycho Brahe, Paschal, Newton, Herschel, with a host of satellites, have been graciously shown the book of knowledge, to light man’s pathway through the earth, and enlarge his ideas of the magnificence and the benevolence of his Creator. ‘In the beginning,’ it did not enter into God’s purpose to tell mankind more of the starry host, than that they were ‘lights to rule the night,’ and for ‘signs and for seasons;’ now see what amazing things have been shown to us. We know they are worlds like our own, filled with mountains and seas; having night and day, summer and winter. We see their fields, now white with snow, now dark with returning vegetation. How our hearts bound with hopes of future knowledge; and imagine the time will come, when we can gaze upon their landscapes, and ‘listen to the hum of their mighty population.’[16] We have seen nature in all its power and grandeur, while tossed on Erie’s waves, or listening to the thunder of Niagara; but here she is at rest in all her quiet loveliness; and would her worshippers behold her in her fairest mood, let them come and gaze at evening on lake Huron.

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_July 4th._--The sun and I arose at the same time. When I left my state-room, as if waiting to greet me, it arose majestically from the bosom of the water, flooding the lake with light. No land was descried upon the east, but we were near the Michigan shore off Thunder bay. The Shanewaging islands which stretch across it were distinctly visible, and presented various beauties of shape and tint. All trace of man has now disappeared, for the northern part of Michigan has never been settled owing to the intense cold of the winters. We have passed a long line of coast without any inhabitant (except a forlorn woodman’s hut in one spot) stretching for two hundred and fifty miles, covered with boundless forests, in whose green recesses there are paths ‘which no fowl knoweth, and which the vultures eye hath not seen.’ Here is the home of the bear, the elk, and the moose-deer--and upon the aspen, oak, and maple trees, sport the blue bird, the robin, and yellow hammer, undisturbed by the foot of man. We have now past the bounds of civilization, and our vessel is the only spot of life in this vast region of forest and water.

From the entrance of Lake Huron to Mackinac, there were but two places where man was visible. At the mouth of the Zappa river soon after entering the lake, there is a cabin where a woodman resides in the summer season to supply the steamboats; and at Presque Isle where we stopped in the afternoon there is another cluster of cabins, and woodpiles. Our Captain did not stop at this latter place, as he did not like their wood, it being chiefly swamp ash. The shore is low, covered with trees, having below, a beach of yellow sand, until just before coming in sight of Michilimackinac when the land becomes a little elevated. Ten miles this side of the last mentioned place, we passed Boisblanc, a large wooded island, taking its name of ‘_white wood_’ from the silver barked birch tree. This island belongs to government, and its only inhabitants, save a few straggling Ottowas are the family of the light-house keeper whose pretty tenement, and stately light-house, appear upon a projecting point. There is also a farm upon the island given by government to the Missionaries of Michilimackinac, who sometimes maintain a farmer upon it. O Mackinaw, thou lonely island, how shall I describe thy various beauties! certainly for situation, history, and native loveliness, it is the most interesting island in our States. We approach it through an avenue of islands, Drummond and Manitoulin, dimly seen on our east, and Boisblanc, and Round, in our western side. Stretching across our path, far away in front of us, is Mackinaw, painted against the clear blue sky. The island of Michilimackinac, or Mackinaw, or Mackinac as it is commonly spelt and pronounced, is a high and bold bluff of limestone about three hundred feet above the water, covered with verdure. Its name signifies in the Indian tongue great turtle, as it is something of the figure of this animal. At the foot of the bluff are strewed the buildings of the town. Among the most conspicuous of these are, the agency house and gardens, residence of Mr. Schoolcraft, Indian Agent--and the church and mission house. Along the beach were several Indian wigwams, while numerous pretty bark canoes were going and coming, as this is the Indian stopping place. A very beautiful, and conspicuous object was the United States fort, presenting at a distance the appearance of a long white line of buildings inserted, into the top of the island high above the town. As we approached, its picturesque block-houses and the pretty balconied residences of the officers, came out to view, having the banner of the ‘stripes and stars’ waving over them. While gazing at this fair picture, suddenly a brilliant flame, and volumes of white smoke arose above the fort, while a booming sound told us they were firing their mid-day salute in honor of the day. This added much to the beauty and grandeur of the scene. As our boat was to remain there for some hours, we disembarked and ascended to the fort to visit our friends the commanding officer and his family. We found them sitting upon their balcony, looking down upon the newly arrived steamboat. After the first greetings and mutual enquiries were over, we were shown all it was thought would interest us.

The view from our friend’s balcony was beautiful in the extreme. The bay in front, the lovely islands around covered with a luxurious vegetation--the town spread out at our feet--the Indian lodges, and the canoes skimming the bright waters, each called forth our expressions of admiration. Passing into the interior of the fort, and through the fine parade ground and a large gateway, we found ourselves upon the summit of the island. Our path lay through copses of white birch, maple, and various other trees, and over green sward covered with strawberries and a variety of wild flowers. Our friends kindly gathered for me a variety of these, among which was a fine scarlet lilium superbum, blue bells, and kinni kanic, or Indian tobacco, and a pretty plant called Indian strawberry. Suddenly the silver tones of woman’s voice, sounded near, and in a fairy dell we came upon a tent, surrounded by a party of ladies and gentlemen, busily engaged preparing for a fete in honor of the day. Among them was the daughter of our host, and some of the celebrated family of S----t. We were presented to the party, and were quite chagrined our limited time would not permit us to accept their invitation to remain and partake of their festivities. The grace and beauty of Mrs. S----t made great impression upon us. To me she was peculiarly interesting from the fact of her being descended from the native lords of the forest; for you know I have always taken the greatest interest in the fate of our Indian tribes. From the accent, the deep brunette of her smooth skin, and her dark hair and eyes, I should have taken her for a Spanish lady. From the tent we wound our way up to a high peak of the island. When near the summit, we left a grove, and saw before us one of the most picturesque and singular objects imaginable. It was a high arched rock of white limestone, stretching across a chasm before us, making a pretty natural bridge, through which we gazed far down into the waves of Huron, at least two hundred feet below. The surprise, the beauty and novelty of this striking object, brought forth expressions of admiration from us. The white arch was adorned with tufts of wild flowers, and shrubbery. Ascending the arch, we gazed down upon the white beach below, whose pebbles could be here distinctly seen under the limpid water although many feet deep--and out upon the fair waters, and the pretty islands, which

“----Like rich and various gems inlay
The unadorned bosom of the deep.”

We were obliged to be satisfied with a hasty view of this charming scene, as our time was limited; and we turned reluctantly towards our boat, without visiting the ruins of fort Holmes, upon the high summit of the island. While passing through the town we observed several antique houses which had been erected by the French, who first settled this place in sixteen hundred and seventy three.

These are frail delapidated buildings, covered with roofs of bark. Upon the beach a party of Indians had just landed, and we stood while they took down their blanket sail, and hauled their birch bark canoe about twenty feet long, upon the shore. These are the Menominies or wild rice eaters, the ugliest Indians I had ever seen--also Winebagoes, with dark skin, low foreheads and shaggy hair, and having no pretentions to dress. I saw a chief however afterwards who was gaily bedizened with tinsel, beads, and paint, having one side of his face a light pea green, and the other cheek scarlet. We watched them erect their lodges which was done very soon--a few poles were placed in a circle, one end of each stood in the earth, while the others met at the top--coarse matting was folded around these, leaving an opening for a door, over which a blanket was hung. Some matting being spread upon the floor inside, the children and moveables were placed inside, and the canoe drawn up near it. We visited some of the shops and laid up a store of Indian articles, which are made by these poor people and sold here. Among them were small baskets called Mococks, made of birch bark embroidered with porcupine quills, stained different colors--this was filled with maple sugar. It is pleasant to meet friends so far from home, but I think the pleasure is almost counterbalanced by the pain of parting. This we felt keenly, when the planks had withdrawn, and our friends had been forced to leave us, as we gazed after them winding their way up to the fort, the shores, and waters around seemed more desolate, more lonely than before.

Just before the steamboat started we had an opportunity of judging of the boasted transparency of this water, its depth having prevented this on our voyage. I looked down into it from the boat, where it was twenty feet deep, and could scarcely believe there was anything but air between us and those shining pebbles below. We had also an opportunity of hearing some Indian music. Upon the shore sat a group of unearthly beings, one of whom struck several taps upon a sort of drum, accompanied by the others, in what sounded like a wolf recitative--at the end of this all united in a yell which dyed away over the lake, much in the style of a howling blast accompanied by the shrieks of a drowning traveller. Our fishing party left us here to go up the Sault St. Mary, into lake Superior, spending their summer days among the picturesque scenery of that magnificent lake. We bade adieu with much regret to this pretty island, whose green terraces, fort and picturesque town, Indian lodges, and light canoes, made a beautiful scene--but the most interesting point in the view, was that white handkerchief waving farewell from the fortress balcony.

This island is 615 miles from Buffalo; 319 from Detroit. There are water marks upon the rocks 200 feet above the lake, proving the water had once stood so high. The scenery here has been prettily described by an author of talent, Mrs. Jameson; but, as much pleased as I was with her book, I must regret she came here under such circumstances. It is with reluctance I censure one so gifted, but it is with a view of warning you, and my young friends to whom I know you will show my letters, against errors to which the very witchery of her genius would blind you. However passionate a desire you may entertain for the picturesque, I hope you may never leave the protection of your friends and wander in search of it alone. May your curiosity to see great men never lead you to invade the retreat of a world hating bachelor; and may you never stray in wild forests, through storms and tempests, with no companion save a rude Indian, or a ‘bronzed, brawney, unshaven, back-woodsman,’ ‘very much like a bear upon his hind legs,’ and you ‘a poor, lonely, shivering woman.’ I quote her words. You had better be a ‘tarry at home traveller,’ or write ‘voyages around my own room.’ If you do thus, you must expect the ladies where you visit will look ‘formal and alarmed,’ as she tells us the ladies of Toronto looked upon her. But now I have done scolding and will pursue my journey. Upon a green slope of the Michigan shore, a pile of ruins were pointed out as the site of old fort Mackinac, which was taken by Pontiac with a stratagem and afterwards every one within were massacred. How must those unfortunates have felt, upon this desolate shore, hundreds of miles away from their country, and at the mercy of savages. A band of Chippewa’s or Ojibwa’s were just passing in canoes thirty feet in length. This tribe stands higher in rank than the others, and their language, like the French, is the polite tongue among the Indian tribes. They have a ruler whose office has been hereditary for ages. He is called Mudjikiwis, and they pride themselves much upon his and their own rank and lineage. There is an anecdote, related by Schoolcraft, of one of this tribe, which, if you have never seen, will amuse you. Chi Waishki, alias the Buffalo, was presented by the commissioners of the treaty of Fond du Lac, with a medal as a badge of distinction. ‘What need have I of this?’ he said haughtily. ‘It is known whence I am descended!’ These canoes are the prettiest and lightest things imaginable. They are formed of the bark of the birch tree, sewn together with a thread made from fine roots of cedar split. The bark is soaked to make it more pliable. Sometimes they are very gaily painted and ornamented. The paddles are of light wood. Our Captain placed before us at dinner a very fine lake trout, which he had purchased at Mackinaw. It was two feet long, and very delicious. Fine salmon are also taken in these lakes. We were now upon the great lake Michigan, which stretches from here three hundred and twenty miles, to the Illinois shore, and is nine hundred feet deep. Our course lay near the Michigan shore, which presented high bluffs and points of limestone, with banks of pebbles, and high jagged hills, or _dunes_ of sand. These pebbles and sand are said to be thrown up by the north-western winds, but I should rather imagine them left up by the floods which have swept over the land. Upon our right were Fox and Beaver isles, beyond which, Green bay runs into Wisconsin, one hundred and three miles. This northern shore of Michigan is uninhabited, and covered with dense forests. The ledges and masses of white limestone upon some of these islands looked like fortresses or other buildings.

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