What Norman Saw in the West (2024)

9

CHAPTER I.
ON THE RAILWAY.

“How still Broadway looks so early inthe morning,” said Norman Lester to hismother, as they drove down the street totake the early train.

It was an unusual sight, the long vistaof the beautiful street in deep shadow,peaceful and calm as if it knew no tramplingfootsteps nor jostling vehicles. It10was just waking up from its brief hourof repose. Here and there a market cart,laden with vegetables, was jogging leisurelyon, then a carriage with travelersand trunks hastened onward. A fewwaiters were standing at the doors of thehotels to speed the parting guests, andpedestrians not ignorant of sunrise andits demands were walking on the broadpavement. Soon the swelling tide of lifewould rush through this great channel; theanxious, earnest brow, the sad and troubledcountenances; light and trifling, andbright and joyous faces, would all be bornedown that mighty stream. Business andpleasure, noise, and hurry, and confusionwould come, as the ascending sun chasedaway the shadows of the great thoroughfare,and with them its brief repose.

Norman’s thoughts went beyond Broadwayand its contrast.

13“I have actually set out on my journeyto the West to see my uncle, a journey Ihave been thinking of for two or threeyears. How I wish you were going withus, Edward,” he said to his tall cousin,whose manliness Norman greatly admired.

“You are to be your mother’s escort to-day,Norman,” replied Edward; “I hopeyou will take good care of her. You aretall enough to make quite a respectableescort, but I have my doubts as to yourcare and thoughtfulness. I think you arerather a heedless boy, but I hope you willcome back greatly improved.”

“There is no saying,” said Norman,“what this journey may do for me.”

“We shall see; but here we are at thedepôt,” was Edward’s reply.

The ferry was crossed, some orangesbought to quiet the noisy demands of theorange woman, seats secured, good-bysaid to Edward, and Norman and hismother were fairly off for a few daysride on the Erie Railroad to Niagara.

14How that terrible, untiring iron horsebore them on; how rapidly was the panoramaof wood and plain, of rock, river,and valley, unrolled before them; how hesnorted and panted, and shot onward,after a short pause now and then to refreshthe mighty giant.

The shifting landscape looked verylovely in the softened lights of that pleasantJune day. The tender green of thefoliage, orchards in full bloom, neat farm-houses,glimpses of the river Passaic, andtheir noble views of a beautiful valley, inthe midst of which rose the spires of PortJervis, lying prettily among the hills, werepresented to the eye and as rapidly withdrawn.Then the scenery became morewild as the train rushed along the highembankment, following the course of theDelaware, and looking down upon itsrapid waters. It is a wild, rugged region;15huge trees, great prostrate trunks, scarredand blackened trophies of the progress ofthe advancing settler wrestling with hisgigantic foes; log-cabins surrounded byunsightly clearings marred with frequentstumps; fields of wheat struggling for existencein the scanty soil; fantastical fencesformed of twisted, gnarled, antler-likeroots. A most picturesque region, whichmight, however, call forth the comment ofthe sturdy Sussex farmer: “Picturesque!I don’t know what you call picturesque;but I say, give me a soil that when youturn it up you have something for yourpains; the fine soil makes the fine country,madam.”

Norman looked with astonishment onthe lofty and massive arches of thebridges over which the railroad crossesthe valley, and had a glimpse of the waterleaping down the ravine at CascadeBridge. A number of men were workingthere on the steep sandy sides of the16cliff, that seemed to afford them a mostperilous footing.

One noble view he had of the Susquehannawith its islands; and then, as theychanged cars at Elmira, the rain obscuredthe lake and the fine country on theirway northward to Niagara.

“No clearing to-day, Norman,” saidMrs. Lester, as they left the Cataract Hotelin the drizzling rain to cross over to GoatIsland. They paused upon the bridge,and looked upon the rapids, foaming, anddashing, and roaring beneath.

“I can understand now,” said Norman,“what I have read about morbid impulses,for I feel as if I would like to jump intothe rushing water.”

The path down the hill to Juna Islandwas very muddy and slippery, and theywere obliged to walk down very carefully,lest a misstep should plunge them intothe mighty current.

18Mrs. Lester told Norman of a happyparty that once crossed the bridge to thisisland; of the little girl playfully throwntoward the fall by a young man; of thesudden terror that led her to jump fromhis arms; of his fearful plunge to save thelife he had periled, and of the twain borneover that giddy verge. Those fresh younglives, gone in one moment, with all ofearthly hope and aspiration.

It was fearful to think of; but how manyare daily and hourly borne, by the mightytides of worldliness and sin, over a moretremendous precipice; and there are nocries or prayers of pitying love; no mancareth for their souls!

Norman was very silent as he lookedfor the first time on that wondrous fall,the sight of which, he said, took away hisstrength. He felt awed and solemnized bythis mighty display of God’s mighty works.

By the path on Goat Island, not beautifuland attractive as usual, for the trees19had not put on their heavy foliage, andthe path was wet and muddy, they walkedto a little rural building, where, shelteredfrom the falling rain, they could lookdown upon the Horse-Shoe Fall. On onepoint in this magnificent cataract Normanloved to look; it was the angular centralpoint where the stream is greatest involume, and where its exquisite hue ofemerald green continually breaks intosnowy whiteness.

“I have heard those falling waters comparedto the robes of a goddess continuallyfalling from her shoulders,” said Mrs. Lester;“but the thought is scarcely spiritualenough to satisfy one.”

“It seems too grand to say anythingabout it,” said Norman; “it makes me sosilent.”

is a most fitting invocation at this place,”replied his mother.

20“I have been looking all round foryou,” said a lady, whom they had foundthe day before to be a most agreeablefellow-traveler, as she alighted from thecarriage, “and they told me at the hotelthat you had gone to Goat Island, so Icame here with the expectation of findingyou.”

After looking awhile at the fall, theydescended the hill, crossed the Terrapinbridge, and ascending the winding staircasein the stone tower, they came out onthe circular balcony above. It was fearfulto look from that giddy height downinto the foaming depths below, and in themidst of those maddening waters onecould scarcely believe that the town hada foundation sufficiently firm to resisttheir onward course. The columns ofspray, driven by the east wind, almost obscuredthe opposite cliffs.

Mrs. Bushnell wished Mrs. Lester andNorman to accompany her in her drive21round Goat Island home; but they preferredanother hour spent in sight of thefall. Many carriages drove up while theysat there, and men with cigars in theirmouths jumped out, ran down the hill,over the bridge, and up the stairs to thetower, where they took a hurried look atthe mighty torrent, and speedily regainedtheir carriages and were off.

“I really think, mother,” said Norman,“that we are enjoying Niagara morethan any one. We are having such along look.”

In the afternoon they accompanied Mrs.Bushnell and her nephew to the Britishside of the river. They crossed the SuspensionBridge, about two miles below thefalls. It is a miracle of art, a beautifulwork of man, in harmonious contrast withthe stupendous works of God. Norman,who had been studying his guide book,told them that there were more than eighteenmillion feet of wire, and that the22aggregate length of wire was more thanfour thousand miles.

They rode over the lower carriage wayof the bridge, which is a single span, eighthundred feet in length between the massivetowers by which it is supported. Incrossing they had a fine distant view ofthe two falls, and of the fearful chasmbeneath, with its solemn deep waters,quiet as if exhausted by their recentplunge.

The afternoon was decidedly stormy,the rain fell fast, dimming the glass of thecarriage, and driving in upon them,when the window was open. The sprayhung before the falls as a dense cloud,obscuring more than half of them fromview.

On their return Mr. White, Mrs. Bushnell’snephew, took Norman by the hand,and walked over the railroad bridge,while the carriage passed beneath. Normanlooked with wonder at those mighty23cables, twisted with so many wires, andsupporting with their interlacing ropesthat great structure weighing eight hundredtons. It seemed so solid and substantial,that Norman did not think ofany danger in crossing it, air hung as it isover the great abyss.

Another cloudy day, but it was ahappy day to Norman and his mother.As they loitered at Point View and onGoat Island, Norman took three or fourpencil sketches, to be copied and filled upat his leisure. He gathered some prettywhite and blue flowers on Goat Island,and arranged them fancifully in an Indianbirch-bark canoe which he had justpurchased.

“Mother,” said he, holding it up to her,“this canoe looks just like one of whichI have seen a picture. It illustrates anIndian legend of the paradise of flowers.They are represented as still retainingtheir flowerlike forms, leisurely reclining24in canoes, floating gently in the placidstreams of the spirit land.”

“How pretty it looks,” said his mother,“with those pendant white blossoms; Ishall always associate this flowery canoeand its graceful legend with this turn inthe path on Goat Island.”

“Are we not having a delightful afternoon,mother? the air is so pleasant, andthere are patches of blue sky, and it isnice not to carry an umbrella,” saidNorman.

“We should not have thought of thatelement of satisfaction, but for the experienceof these two days; as it is, we areprepared fully to appreciate it.”

They very much enjoyed their walk upto the “Three Sisters;” the rapids were ofthe most beautiful green, flecked withwhite foam, and in the absence of sunlightthey could look, without being dazzled,upon the graceful majestic flow ofwaters. How many longing, lingering25looks were given from each spot as, at theapproach of evening, they reluctantlyretraced their steps.

Norman had amused himself during theday in looking over Indian curiosities, andin addition to a birch-bark canoe workedin porcupine quills, pincushions, and matsworked in beads, had purchased a Derbyshire-sparcup and whistle at the storenear the bridge to Goat Island, with theassurance that they were turned at Niagara,out of Table Rock!

A parting glance from Point View thenext morning before breakfast, after whichthey took the cars for Buffalo, where theyfound Professor L. awaiting them. Along ride on the railroad, near the shoreof Lake Erie, (which was not howeveroften visible,) carried them through Pennsylvania,Ohio, and Michigan, and thenthrough Indiana and Illinois. All thesestates looked very much alike to Normanas he hurried past groves, ravines, towns,26and prairies, and after a day and night’stravel arrived at E., a village near Chicago,without any very definite impressions ofthe shifting scenery that had passed beforehis vision.

Most grateful was the quiet repose ofMrs. Rivers’s pretty home after the longwearisome ride in the cars, most pleasantwas it to be kindly welcomed by oldfriends in their new homes. The villageseemed full of purpose and aspiration,springing up in an oak opening on theshore of Lake Michigan, and clusteringround the two literary institutions thathave called it into existence. The familiarfaces gathered around Mrs. Rivers’stea-table recalled many dear and cherishedassociations, and brought backpleasant pictures of the past.

28Norman’s pleasures were in the present.He was soon off to the lake with GeorgeRivers, wandering a while on its pebblyshore, and then sitting on the pier fishing.They dropped their lines in the water, andsat waiting for a bite. Long and patientlythey sat, the sun burning their faces, buttheir patience was not rewarded withsuccess, for they got no fish. Normanfound more companions in the little Randolphsand Henrys, who were fishing atthe same time. They lived a few doorsfrom George Rivers, and they came tosee Norman, and invited him to dinnerand to tea. He had many pleasant talks,and many games with his new friends,who were very kind to him.

Sunday morning came; the weatherdoubtful, uncertain, showery. Mrs. Lesterheard with great pleasure a lecturefrom her former pastor, and a sermonfrom an old friend. The Sunday schoolwas invited to visit the Biblical Institute29that afternoon, to see some idols thathad just arrived from China, and to hearProfesor L. lecture upon them. Thechildren were on tip-toe with expectation;but the superintendent, after consultationwith the teachers, decided that it wouldnot be prudent to go; the clouds werethreatening, and the grass was wet withthe recent rain. With his pleasant faceand his kindly voice, he told the childrenof this decision, and then asked all whowere in favor of going to the Biblical Institutethe next afternoon, at four o’clock,to raise their hands. Every hand wasraised, but there was a new difficulty. Aprofessor in the Institute said that it wouldbe better to defer the visit till the nextSabbath, as it would interfere with thestudents’ recitations on Monday afternoon.

“Not the next Sabbath,” said anothergentleman; “there will be a general class-meetinghere then, which we all wishto attend.”

30“All, then,” said the superintendent,“who are in favor of visiting the Institutethis day fortnight, will signify it by holdingup their hands.”

Not an uplifted hand was seen; theexpression of opinion was very decided.The children did not believe in a pleasureso long delayed. The professor, withgreat good-humor, then said that theywere disposed to gratify the children, andthat they would so arrange their recitationsas to give them a cordial welcome.

“My text is at the Institute,” saidProfessor L., as he rose to speak to thechildren, “and my audience here;” buthe contrived to talk to them without atext so agreeably, that the children votedthat he should be invited to address themthe next afternoon, which he partly consentedto do.

It was a very pleasant looking Sundayschool, teachers and children all in their31places, notwithstanding the wet walksand the dark clouds. The children lookedbright and happy, interested in their lessons,attentive to their teachers, and theysang sweet hymns with great spirit andearnestness.

Monday was bright and beautiful, andmany little hearts beat high with thethoughts of the afternoon’s pleasure. Howglad they were that it had not been putoff for a fortnight. It was a pretty sightto see the procession of children windingthrough the grove of grand old trees onthe high bank of the lake, whose bluewaters sparkled in the sunlight. Thewhite sails of schooners were seen in thedistant horizon, and the lake looked sopeaceful that it was difficult to imagineit roughened by the tempest, uttering itsloud roar as its great waves dashed againstthe bank, tearing it away, and prostratingthe lofty trees that adorned it.

The children walked into the Institute,32and entering the room on the right, sawthe walls covered with pictures of hideousChinese idols. One of the great idolsthey had come to see was a giganticfigure, dressed in flowing robes of whitemuslin, with a ghastly face, rolling eyes,grinning mouth, and a crown on his head.He was attended by his servant, who hada horrible black face, and long flowingblack garments. Such figures as theseare carried through the streets in Chinato receive the worship of the people; andthus religion, which should elevate, onlydebases them; and fear is the ruling motiveinstead of love.

Norman thought of that scene in theidol temple in Rangoon: the room linedwith images of Boodh, in a sitting posture,with folded hands, bearing lamps togive light to a Christian prayer-meeting;Havelock, with his Bible in his hand,surrounded by a hundred Christian soldiers,praying to the God of heaven, and33singing praises to the Lord Christ in thisfamous idol temple. Well, the day willcome when all the idols will be cast tothe moles and the bats, and when fromevery hill-top and valley, from the broadprairie and the green savannah, the incenseof praise shall ascend to the oneliving and true God.

After the children had passed aroundthe rooms, and looked at the idols, theywent up stairs and seated themselves inthe chapel to hear Professor L. Thefresh breeze blew in the window, andthe lake spread its broad bosom beneaththe eye; stripes of green and blue gavevariety to its surface; little sail-boatssailed rapidly by; and a large steamerwent proudly on its way. It was pleasantto look out upon this noble view, andlisten at the same time to Professor L.’snarration of what he had seen during histhree years in China.

He gave an interesting account of Miss34Aldersey, a noble English woman, who,while in her pretty English home, in themidst of kind friends, and social joys, andreligious privileges, felt her heart so movedby the spiritual destitution of the Chinese,that she left home and friends, and allpleasant, familiar things, and went overthe seas to China. Freely she had received;freely she gave fortune, time, andtoil to the great work to which she hadconsecrated her life. She opened a school,and gathered in the poor neglected children.Female children are despised inChina, and many of these poor little things,who had no one to love them, found ahome beneath Miss Aldersey’s roof. Dayafter day she sat teaching these ignorantlittle girls, and telling them of Jesus andthe home he has gone to prepare for hispeople. They listened to the new andwonderful story, and their hearts wereopened to receive these heavenly truths.

One of them, after the custom of the35country, had been bethrothed when shewas four years old, to a boy several yearsolder, and the time approached when shewas called upon to be married. Part ofthe marriage ceremony consists of bowingdown before ancestral tablets, containingimages of their ancestors, andburning incense to them. This theyoung Christian Chinese girl refusedto do. She loved Jesus, she worshipedGod, and she would not bow down beforeany idol.

In vain her parents expostulated andentreated. In vain they offered her reward,and threatened punishment. Shewas firm in her refusal to break the lawof God. They beat her and tortured her,but her steadfast heart, stayed upon God,knew no fear. Faithful to her Christianprofession, this brave girl continued inthe path of Christian duty, unmoved bytribulation and wrath and all the devicesof wicked men.

36The children then sang the noble missionaryhymn,

and were dismissed for a little recreationin the grove, where there was a swing,and cool shade, and grassy turf. Just beforesunset the children were called together,and again in regular order walkedhomeward, with faces glowing with enjoyment,and minds and hearts filled withhappy thoughts and memories.

Wednesday morning Norman wentwith his mother to the lake, just afterbreakfast. The waves were gently kissingthe shore, and hours passed swiftlyaway as they listened to the soothingsound and gathered curious pebbles.They found some small fossils, with theremains of shells and animals in them,and Norman was greatly delighted withone that his mother picked up, thatlooked as if it had on it a single pearl37set in gold. They felt sorry to leave thepleasant beach; but the morning had alreadygone, and it was time to go to Mr.Henry’s to dinner. On their returnthey found a kind invitation from Mrs.Harris to take tea at the Institute. Therewere about forty students at the tea-table,and after tea they had prayers. Insteadof the reading of the Scripture, verseswere repeated, thus enabling all whowished to participate in the devotionalexercises; and noble and comfortingpromises, and precious truths, were utteredin varying tones. That companyof young men were girding on theirarmor, that they might fight as good soldiersunder the Captain of their salvation.They were preparing themselves for theirlife-work; some of them to sow the“precious seed” over the broad prairies ofIllinois, by the rocky bluffs and wood-crownedhills of Wisconsin, and the bluewaters of Minnesota; while others were38looking to the lands of the East—to Bulgaria,and India, and China. It waspleasant to exchange a few brief wordswith these young men who, by the eye offaith, could see more abundant harveststhan those which reward the Westernhusbandmen. They had asked the Lordof the harvest to send them as reapersinto these fields of promise, looking forwardto that blessed time when they shall“return with joy bringing their sheaveswith them.”

Mrs. Lester afterward looked upon theportrait of the Christian woman to whoseliberality this institution owes its existence.That portrait ought to hang onits walls. There is a queenly look aboutthe fine figure, and the way the head isset on the shoulders, and blended goodnessand intelligence in the countenance.In the evening of the same day Mrs.Lester was in the room where Mrs. Garrettdied, and she thought of the blissful39visions that may have floated about thatdying pillow glimpses of refreshing andperennial streams to make the wildernessrejoice and blossom as the rose. Her lifewas not spent in vain on the earth.Regular and consistent in her daily walksof duty and piety, she has, by the judiciousbestowment of ample means, prolongedher usefulness on the earth, linkedherself to holy activities through comingtime, and set in motion trains of influence,the mighty results of which mayonly be known in the morning of theresurrection. She made to herself friendsof the mammon of unrighteousness, thatwhen she failed they might receive herinto everlasting habitations.

Norman had many little friends to saygood-by to as he left for the cars on41Thursday morning, and very many pleasantmemories to take with him.

Kind friends were waiting for them atthe station at Chicago, and they weresoon driving through its busy streets.They approached the river, which hasmade the town, affording as it does a safeharbor for vessels. This river runs dueeast and falls into the lakes, receiving, abouta mile from its mouth, branches from thenorth and the south. The river and itsbranches, lined with substantial warehouses,divide the city into the north,south and west side. On approachingthe bridge it suddenly swung round togive passage to a large schooner towedby a little puffing black tug, which gaveits shrill whistle as a signal for the drawbridgeto open, and then went pantingand snorting through.

While waiting for the bridge to resumeits place, Emily Percy, a blue-eyed, fair-hairedlittle girl who was seated beside42Norman, showed him an old woodenhouse that formerly belonged to FortDearborn, and that, with the light-house,was the only thing left to tell of itsexistence.

“Norman,” said Mrs. Lester, “this is thefort spoken of in those lines you are sofond of repeating about the Indians:

“It is difficult to fancy any Indianshere, in the heart of this busy city,” saidNorman.

“And yet this great city,” said Mrs.Percy “is the growth of twenty-five years.In 1831 there were but four arrivals, twobrigs and two schooners, and now thereare eight thousand.”

43“The lonely garrison that abandonedthis fort in 1812,” said Mrs. Lester, “wouldhave been rather astonished, could thevision of this city have risen up: beforethem.”

“Why did they abandon the fort,mother?” asked Norman.

“They thought it best when they heardof General Hull’s surrender at Detroit.Soon after leaving the fort they wereattacked by a large body of Indians, towhom they surrendered, on condition thattheir lives should be spared. Notwithstandingthis promise, the Indians cruellymurdered several of them.”

“You must not forget to tell of Mrs.Heald,” said Mrs. Percy, “for I think wemay call her the heroine of Chicago.”

“I leave that to you,” replied Mrs.Lester.

“An Indian,” said Mrs. Percy, “approachedher with uplifted tomahawk,when, with great presence of mind, she44looked him full in the face, and smilinglysaid, ‘Surely you would not kill asquaw!’ This Indian warrior was disarmedby this appeal, and the lady’s lifewas saved.”

The schooner towed by the potent littletug soon passed through, but they weredetained by a sloop that made its wayvery slowly, and Norman had time tolook at the vessels in the river, many ofthem loaded with grain, twenty-five millionsof bushels being annually receivedat this grain port. He also watched withgreat interest the working of a dredgingmachine used to take mud out of the riverand thus deepen its channel.

A great number of carriages and cartsawaited the return of the moving bridge,and many, pedestrians were ready to leapupon it as it approached. The bridgesare a daily school of patience for the citizensof Chicago.

The few days at Mrs. Percy’s Norman45enjoyed very much. He took long walkswith Emily about the north side of thecity, which is pleasantly shaded withtrees and adorned with many fine residences.They drove out too with Mrs.Percy on Michigan Avenue, a noblestreet, with rows of fine houses built ofbeautiful cream-colored stone, and prettycottages embowered in shrubbery, frontingon the lake. The railway is laidthrough the water, at a short distance fromthe shore, and the interval affords a finesafe place for rowing, sheltered as it isfrom the sudden storms of the lake. Therewere a number of pretty row boats rapidlydarting to and fro, and young peopleenjoying the air and exercise on the quietwaters.

They returned by Wabash Avenue,adorned with its noble churches. Theyalighted, and went in to look at the newMethodist church, which was nearlyfinished. Norman thought it very beautiful.46This, and the handsome Presbyterianchurch at the next corner, are builtof the cream-colored stone which givessuch a cheerful light aspect to the edificesin Chicago. The Second Presbyterianchurch is the most antique-looking structurein the city. It is built of a whitishstone, spotted with black, giving it somewhatthe aspect of the white marble ofSt. Paul’s begrimed with the smoke anddust of London. This stone was found onthe prairies; the black is a sort of bitumenthat exudes from it, and as the quarry isexhausted, this church will be unique aswell as antique in its appearance.

Norman was amused at the inequalityof the sidewalks, sometimes rising abovethe carriage way, sometimes depressedfar below, so that the pedestrian is obligedcontinually to go up and down steps, orinclined planes, and to mind his ways ifhe wishes to avoid a fall. The new storesopen finely on the elevated sidewalks,47and Norman was astonished to see thesplendid rows of stores with elaborateiron fronts. The older houses and storesmust be entered by descending steps toreach their level. Mrs. Percy told Normanthe reason of this, that the city wasbuilt on a flat prairie, so low that thewater would not run off, and the streetscould not be drained; and so this enterprisingpeople are lifting up the wholecity six or seven feet, and there must beinequality of surface while this transitionprocess is going on. Norman saw aframe house, mounted on rollers, leisurelymaking its way through the streets.

Charlie Percy, who was several yearsolder than Norman had a chemical cabinet,and the boys had a very animatedevening, trying a number of experiments,making colored fires, and making firejump about the surface of the water.

“Here is an invitation for you, children,”said Mr. Percy, “which I have no48doubt you will be very glad to accept.Mr. and Mrs. Bowers called to invite usto accompany them to Green Park, wherethey are to have a pic-nic.”

“How pleasant that will be,” exclaimedEmily; “I am sure you will liketo go, Norman.”

The children were ready immediatelyafter dinner, when Mr. Bowers’s carriagedrove up for them, and at the station theyfound quite a party of children, baskets inhand, with their mothers and fathers,bound for the pic-nic. They were a joyousfamily party, Mr. Bowers’s sisters andtheir families. Norman looked from thecars upon the stately buildings of MichiganAvenue, and there was not time tolook at much more, for a few minutesbrought them to Green Park, and theparty were soon out of the cars, and on abank overlooking the lake. It is a prettyplace, grassy turf, graveled walks, gratefulshade, and rustic summer houses; better49than all, the pleasant beach with itsrounded pebbles, and the constant dashof its gentle waves. The children hadmerry games of tag and puss-in-the-corner,then they wandered along thebeach, and then they came with sharpenedappetites to inquire when the basketswere to be opened. “You may go andbring them now,” was the welcomeresponse.

“Are we not to sit round the table inthe summer-house?” asked one of thelittle girls.

“No,” replied her mamma, “it iscooler here.”

Willing feet ran to the rustic arbor,and willing hands brought the basketsfrom the rustic table. They seated themselveson the grass and ate the biscuitsand sardines and sandwiches, and thegingerbread and cake. A little girl whomthey did not know was playing near herfather and mother, who were seated on a50bench at a little distance. One of thechildren, with thoughtful kindness, askedher mother’s permission to take some biscuitsand cake to the little stranger, andjoyfully she ran off to offer of their abundanceto the little one.

After they had done full justice to thecontents of the baskets, and picked uppebbles on the beach, they sat in the largesummer house and sang hymns, sweetfamiliar hymns, sung by sweet childishvoices, sobering and sanctifying thepleasures of that happy Saturday afternoon.

At the station they found a merryparty of school-girls who had walked outin the morning to gather flowers on theprairie. They were in high glee; theirlarge straw hats were wreathed with oakleaves, and their hands were filled withgreat bunches of flowers,

Norman said good-by to Emily Percy51at her door, for he and his mother were tospend the Sabbath with Mrs. Bowers, anda pleasant Sabbath it was. The conversation,in harmony with the day, on thepiazza, after breakfast, beneath the shadeof lofty spreading trees; the sermons andservices of morning, afternoon, and evening,different in tone and character, butall profitable and pleasing; the visit to thelarge and interesting Sunday school, inwhich Mrs. Bowers taught a class, madethe Sabbath a delightful one.

Monday morning Mrs. Percy took Mrs.Lester and Norman and Emily to herhusband’s grain warehouse, the top ofwhich they reached after ascending manyflights of steps. The roof is of canvas,covered with tar, upon which, while it iswarm, pebbles are thrown, making a durableand fire proof roof. The city laybeneath them; they could mark its greatextent, trace the course of its dividingrivers, with their sails, and steamers, and52propellers; see trains of cars arriving anddeparting; count the spires which

and around all see the great lake andthe encircling prairie.

The warehouse was filled with dust, asthe machinery was in motion. Normanwatched the elevators lifting up the grainfrom the rail-car on one side to the fifthstory of the warehouse, where it isweighed and poured into great bins,whence it is discharged into vessels on theother side. The elevator is a series ofbuckets on an endless band. Thousandsof bushels, from the wide prairies of Illinois,are thus elevated, weighed, andtransferred from car to boat, to be sent tothe Eastern states or to Europe.

The saddest sight Norman saw in thiscity was the great number of saloons, asthey call the shops where liquor is sold,where drunkards are made, and wheremany an unwary victim is lured to destruction.53In almost every block, theytempt the thoughtless; music sounds herwelcome; vice puts on her most attractivemien; and young men forget a father’scounsel, a mother’s prayers; and for themomentary gratification of their appetitesthey offer up reputation, character, health,life, and their eternal all; a costly sacrifice!Everything lost, and nothing gainedbut degradation, misery, and death.

A railway ride over the beautifulprairies took Norman and his mother totheir place of destination. How soft andgentle were those prairie swells, lookinglike English park scenery, relieved as isthe vast expanse of meadow by scatteredgroves of trees. The fine unbroken horizonline tells you that you do not see a greaterextent of country, only because your eyehas no greater capabilities; that onward,and all around, the vast prairie lies in itsverdure and beauty; that there, as here,55the flowers are springing; that you maytravel north, south, east, and west, hundredsof miles, and still that undulatingprairie, in its “encircling vastness,” will liearound you like the sea.

At the station Norman found his unclelooking out anxiously for him, and he wassoon pressed tenderly in his arms.

“Well, my boy,” said his uncle, “Ifeared we should be disappointed againto-day. How glad I am to see you oncemore, though you have so grown I wouldnot have known you.”

“How is Aunt Ellen?” asked Norman.

“Very well, she is waiting anxiously foryou at home; she has been counting thedays since you wrote you were coming.”

“How well I remember,” said Norman,“when I was a little boy, how she let mewhittle in her room, and how shebrought me bread and butter with whitesugar on it.”

“That bread and butter and sugar56made a deep impression on his mind,”said Mrs. Lester; “he has always connectedthe thought of it with his Aunt Ellen.”

“And there is your Aunt Ellen at thegate looking for you,” said his uncle.

Norman loved his uncle and aunt verymuch, and was very glad to be with themonce more. He loved to sit by hisuncle’s side and read to him, and tell himabout his school, and about his cottagehome, and about his little cousins, Bessieand Edith, with whom he spent so manypleasant summer days, rambling aboutthe woods and among the rocks.

His uncle was an invalid, obliged continuallyto recline on his couch, but hewas always cheerful, always happy. Asister said of him, that if you put him onthe top of a rock he would be happy;and the secret of this was, that his heartwas filled with love to God, and that hehad constant communion with his blessedSaviour. The peace of God lay upon his57countenance; he had no troubled orvexing thoughts.

He loved to read and hear about theprogress of Christ’s kingdom, and aboutwhat good men are doing to bring aboutthe fulfillment of that prayer, “Thy willbe done on earth as it is in heaven.”

Norman was very busy for several days,copying his sketches of Niagara, and doingthem in pastil, and his uncle took greatinterest in the progress of his work.

One day they went with a clergyman,Aunt Ellen’s brother, to a seminary, builton a commanding eminence above thetown. After seeing the scholars do theirsums very rapidly on the black-board,they went to the upper story of the building,and looked upon an extensive view.To the north the rapid river, with its highbanks and wooded islands; to the east,the prairie, stretching out far in the distance.The spires and buildings of thetown toward the south, with the fine58arches of the railing embankments, whilethe river, whose falls filled the air withsound, was spanned with the noble archesof the railroad bridge, and the brokenones of several ruined bridges, sweptaway by the recent floods.

After leaving the seminary they wanderedin the oak grove that adorns thebluff upon which it stands, and lookeddown on the ravine which bounds thegrounds to the north.

“Now, mother,” said Norman, onemorning after breakfast, “for a walk onthe prairies.”

“I am ready,” replied Mrs. Lester; “itis a cool, gray morning; just the day forsuch a ramble.”

On and on they wandered; Normanrunning to and fro, as the brilliant tint ofsome flower caught his eye, made hismother the bearer of all his floral treasures.A fine bouquet he had after a while, yellowlupins, the blue spiderwort, the purple59phlox, an orange flower very much likethe wallflower, and the painted cup, madeclassic by Bryant’s verse:

They first walked toward the south,where they could have glimpses of theriver; but at length they directed theircourse to the east, to an octagon house,that stood like a light-house on a hill.Crossing the railroad, they paused a whileto see the gravel-train get its load of sandfrom the banks.

“There,” said Norman, as the locomotivegave a snort or two, as if in impatienceat the pause; “there stands thegrand old fellow to be looked at, as Mr.Beecher says.”

A far-reaching view of the undulatingprairie, heightened at intervals by flashesof the river gliding among the fertile60meadows, repaid them for the ascent tothe octagon house.

On their return they stood beneath arailroad bridge, and saw two long freighttrains pass over it. They passed a ruraltown that had recently sprung up in an“oak opening,” and arrived at home withflowers and pleasant remembrances oftheir four-mile walk on the prairies.

Norman’s quiet pleasures by his uncle’sside, his reading and sketching, soon gaveplace to more active out-of-door amusem*nts.He formed a friendship with twoboys who lived in the neighborhood, whowere so well-trained, that his uncle readilyconsented to his intimacy with them.

“Even a child is known by his doings;”and it is well when a boy has alreadyformed a character which inspires confidence,and allows parents and friendssafely to trust in him. Such a lad willprobably retain in manhood the respectand confidence he has won in boyhood.

61Norman went every evening with Alfredand Herbert Walduf to bathe in theRock river, and sometimes he went withthem to fish, or walked with them in thewoods.

These boys were regular attendants atthe Sunday school of which Mr. Laurence,Aunt Ellen’s brother, was superintendent,and they asked Norman to gowith them to school. How earnestly thechildren listened when their superintendenttold them of the sad fate of four oftheir number who had recently joinedwith them in their hymns of praise. Theyhad removed a short time before withtheir parents to a town not far distant,where their father had received a call topreach. A letter had been received fromtheir mother, describing the situation oftheir new home, by the side of a littlestream, and saying that she thought shehad found a pleasant resting-place.

Father, mother, and eight children were62all gathered together one peaceful Sabbath;the two elder sons having comehome from their places of business tospend a few days with their family. Kindand affectionate words were spoken—athankful retrospect of the past, and hopefulglancings to the future.

The next day the little stream began torise and swell, and the children greatlyenjoyed the transformation of their quietbrook into the rushing torrent. Enjoyment,however, gave place to alarm asthe waters rose higher and higher, tillthey reached the house.

Some men from the village came downand advised them to seek a more secureshelter. On measuring the waters, however,they found that they had fallen fourinches; and the father, thinking that theworst was over, concluded that they hadbetter remain in the house. The men,gathering up some clothes that hadbeen left out to dry, handed them to63the inmates of the house, and leftthem.

There were anxious hearts in that lonelydwelling that night, as they listened tothe rushing waters without. The babywakened, and the elder brother, to amuseand quiet the little thing, gave it hiswatch to play with. Suddenly there wasa crash, and the house was loosened fromits foundations. There was a cry heardfrom the wife and mother, and then allother sounds were lost in the roar of thewaters. Stunned, half unconscious, thefather felt himself borne onward by therushing flood. As the stream carried himpast an overhanging tree, he caught holdof its branches, and there he hung till themorning light brought help and rescue.He was a childless man; the loving facesof wife and children he was to see nomore till the morning of the resurrection.Four of the bodies were found the nextmorning beneath the ruins of the house.64The infant’s hand clasped the watch, stillticking, while its own pulse was stoppedforever. The waters of the stream, swelledby the great freshet, had been obstructedby a culvert on the railway till it gaveway, and the accumulated mass of watershad swept on with resistless impetuosity,working ruin and death.

And then Mr. Laurence enforced thelesson so often taught, so soon forgotten,of so living that when the cry is heard,“Behold the bridegroom cometh!” whetherat midnight or in the morning, we maygo forth with joy to meet him.

Again in the cars for a journey to St.Anthony’s Falls, and again the fertilerolling prairie met the eye on every side.The view was somewhat marred by thehigh board fences of the railroad, that insome places hid those broad flowery fields.Some curious mounds, round, smooth, andgreen, extended like a chain from east to66west, and looked as if they were artificialformations, lying as they do on the bosomof the prairie; perhaps the burial-placeof a departed race.

Soon the high lands on the Mississippiwere seen. A portly gentleman of Galena,just returning from a convention atSpringfield, pointed them out to Mrs.Lester, and said, “Ma’am, there is no suchriver in the world; you never saw suchscenery; you would not look at the Hudsonafter it.”

“That would be unfortunate,” repliedMrs. Lester, “as my home is on theHudson. Is the scenery finer than theHighlands and the Catskills?”

“Well, ma’am, I can’t exactly sayas to that; I have not been below Albany.”

“Ah, then, you have not seen ourbeautiful river, as it cannot boast of muchgrandeur above Albany.”

Galena is a curious town, built on the67side of a very steep hill; the houses risingone above another, and in a picturesque,romantic region. The road lay for sometime along the bank of the Fever River,and Norman looked in vain for the leadmines, for which this part of the countryis so famous. A very fine specimen ofthe lead ore was afterward given him.

“Ah! look, mother!” he exclaimed, asthe descending sun that had been partiallyvailed, shone through a rift in the clouds,and was brightly mirrored in the placidwaters of the river. Low wooded banksand islands were also mirrored there aswell as the shining orb and the large darkmasses of clouds. It was the great sightof the afternoon.

At Dunleith, on the line between Illinoisand Wisconsin, the terminus of theIllinois Central road, they went on boardthe Grey Eagle, the best boat on the UpperMississippi.

A sunset on the Missi-sepe, the Great68River! It was radiant and golden, butwithout any pomp of crimson clouds, oflong-trailing glory.

Norman had a fine view of Dubuque,built on a natural terrace on the oppositeshore, and creeping up four of five ravinesbetween the great bluffs which rise directlybehind the town. After tea, as theboat was not to leave till morning, hewatched the lights gleaming out from thecity below, and the scattered dwellingsabove, and then went to bed in his state-room.

His mother had not met the friendswhom she had expected to join at Dunleithfor this excursion, and she felt somewhatdisappointed. The morning camein clouds and drizzling rain. The hillswere vailed; but as the boat went verynear the western shore, the passengerscould admire the wealth of foliage, andthe rich greens of those primeval forests.A road ran along the river bank, and69some men were quarrying stone; nearthis was a deserted log-house.

On passing a very high red bluff, thatstood in the forest, like an Egyptian idol,so curiously was it fashioned, Mrs. Lesterran to the east side of the boat to callNorman to look at it. He came, butafter a hasty glance returned to his play,which for the time wholly absorbed him.He was engaged in some merry gameswith Helen and Frank Lisle, and he hadno thought for anything else. Mrs. Lislefound that Norman was the son of a ministerwho had been an intimate friend ofher sister’s. “My sister has very frequentlyspoken to me of him,” she said;“I almost think I had known him. Mysister named her eldest son after yourfather, Norman, and I have been strangelyreminded of Lester at your age all themorning.”

Norman remained a while to look at alarge raft which his mother had called70him to see. There were twenty men uponit; some of them with red shirts, andanother wrapping a white blanket aroundhim. There was a shed where one manwas cooking the dinner, and a board tablein front for their meals. A gentlemansaid that a raft of that size was worthabout seven thousand dollars. Therewere a number of rafts floating by thiswestern shore. One misses the white sailsof the Hudson on the Mississippi, whererafts, and steamboats, and an occasionalsail-boat, are the only craft on its waters.

There were ravines running up amongthe hills, and near the shore were layersof white stone piled regularly as if laid inmortar. Castellated bluffs peeped outfrom the encircling verdure, and lowislands, covered with willows, were emergingfrom the recent floods. From behindone of these the steamer Northern Lightappeared, her bright golden star on aback ground of green.

71After dinner the aspect of things brightened.The clouds rolled away, and theclear blue sky appeared in its soft beauty.The eastern now became the most interestingside; noble bluffs were seen far abovethe lofty oaks and maples, like someancient towers, the strongholds of theformer lords of the soil. The town ofGuttenbay is on a table land at the footof one of these bluffs, and beyond it arange of rounded hills, softly rising abovewooded islands. “O look!” said HelenLisle, “at that beautiful rainbow in thespray.” It was no fleeting vision, but allthe afternoon the radiant bow, with itshues of blended brightness, affordedthem a beautiful object for contemplation.

“See those trees,” cried Norman; “theylook as if they were running a race downhill.”

In crossing from the east to the westside they passed an island shaped like a72bowl, the center filled with water, and abroad green brim. M’Gregor’s landingis a small busy town of one long street,there being no place for another in thenarrow ravine. The street was filled withwagons, and many passengers landed togo out on the rich prairies of Iowa, towhich this ravine leads.

There is a noble view of the broad riverand its wooded islands, in crossing toPrairie du Chien on the east side. Normanwas amused at seeing three dogs onthis prairie, the first he had seen on theshores of the river. The town derives itsname from a family of Fox Indians, whoformerly lived there, and were known bythe name of Dogs.

The fort, though now deserted, lookedvery finely with its white walls, and itspleasant site, commanding the far reachesof the Mississippi, and the prairie openinginto the interior.

75“Keokuk used to live here, Norman;do you remember the story you werereading about him?”

“O yes, mother, he was such a braveman. He was chief of the Sacs andFoxes, and yet he was such a firmfriend to the whites that he exerted allhis influence to prevent his tribe fromgoing to war with them. At one timewhen the nation had determined upon awar with the United States, he told themto burn their wigwams, kill their squaws,and then to go into the enemy’s countryto conquer or to die. This speech convincedthem of the folly of engaging in awar that could only terminate in theirruin, and they followed his peacefulcounsels.”

“And then,” asked Mrs. Lester, “howdid he show his magnanimity when thepeople were wearied with his goodness,as the Athenians of old were at hearingAristides called the Just?”

“O yes, that was at Prairie du Chien76too. They chose a young man for chiefinstead of the noble chief who so long hadled them. He quietly took the lowerplace, and introduced his youthful successorto the United States agent, askinghim to treat him as kindly as he hadtreated Keokuk. This noble conductshowed the tribe their folly, and Keokukwas soon restored to his place as theirchief.”

“Poor Red Bird,” said Mrs. Lester,“this spot was a fatal one to him. Hewas a real Indian hero; tall, lithe, andbeautiful, graceful in movement, skilledin feats of agility, daring and brave.”

“Why was this spot fatal to him?”asked Helen.

“He was a great friend to the whites,”replied Mrs. Lester, and dealt kindly andtruly with them. An Indian had beenkilled by a white man, and his tribe demandedscalps to atone for this murder.Red Bird was sent to obtain the scalp of77the white man, but he returned, sayinghe could find none.

Then came the cruel taunts of the revengefulsavages; “Red Bird was nobrave;” “he feared the pale-faces;” “hecared not to avenge the blood of one oftheir tribe.” “Red Bird must go again,”and this time not alone, but accompaniedby cruel Indians, to watch his movements.Poor Red Bird had never met the pale-facesbut with truth and kindness, andnow a hundred voices clamored for theirdestruction; and these voices overpoweredthe still small voice within him.

Red Bird and his two companions entereda cabin, a little below Prairie duChien, at noon-day. It was a peacefulfamily group, fearing no evil. The womanwas washing near the window thatlooked toward the river; her husbandwas seated by the cradle of his sleepingchild, while an old soldier sat near thedoor. The Indians asked for something78to eat, and as the woman gave them somebread and milk, she saw an expression intheir faces that led her to fly from thecabin to call for help. No help couldreach the ill-fated occupants of the cabin.The tomahawk of the Indians rapidly descended;Red Bird scalped the husbandand father, the second Indian the soldier,while the fair hair of the infant was danglingat the belt of the third savage, as heleft the cabin.

“And what became of Red Bird?”asked Helen.

“He was taken by the United Statesofficers, and brought to trial. Red Bird,sad and stately, drew himself up to hisfull height, and said that he had alwaysbeen a friend of the white man, that hehad never before injured them, and thathe had been forced to this act of retaliationby the taunts of his tribe; that hethought they ought not to condemn himfor a single offense.”

81“He was put in irons, an indignity thatso wrought upon his lofty spirit, that hepined to death.”

“Look at that log-cabin on the bank,”said Norman; “perhaps that is the oneKeokuk slept in one night.”

“Why did he go there?” asked Helen.

“He came in and asked for a night’slodging. The settler’s family, who had seenmany Indians about in the afternoon,were afraid; but the noble countenanceof their guest reassured them, and theygave him permission to stay. In the morninghe told them that his tribe were returningup the river, after having receivedtheir money from the United States, andthat as some of them had drunk the firewater,he feared they might alarm thepale-faces in the cabin, and therefore hehad come to project them.”

Painted Rock, so called because thereare Indian paintings upon it, was on theopposite side of the river, in deep shadow,82while the green hill sloping toward thesouth, lay in broad sunshine.

Dwellings nestled in a pretty ravinewere frowned upon by four lofty cliffs,whose rugged rocks resembled fortifications.One rock looked precisely like thefragment of a massive wall. Just beyond,a valley, branching in three directions,ran up among the hills. Over one ofthese, to the south, the dark shadow of thebluff was thrown, while the soft roundedhills to the north were covered with scatteredtrees, resembling orchards on thehillside, giving a cultivated look to thescene.

No docks are needed, as the steamer,that only draws about eighteen inches ofwater, runs up anywhere close to theshore. As it was approaching the bankthey saw a log-cabin, in the door of whichstood a man, and a little child in red frockand white pantalets, making a prettypicture.

83On the jutting point where the boattouched was a white house, and a younggirl, with an earthen pitcher, was walkingdown the stone steps leading to thewater.

A great yellow Egyptian-looking cliffthrew a shadow over this peaceful scene.

“There are the nine passengers whoare to land at this place,” exclaimed Norman,as a man walked up the road followedby eight sheep. “He has been surroundedby that family ever since we leftDunleith.”

“He looks very well satisfied now tohave them all safely landed,” said HelenLisle; “how pleased his children will beat the grand arrival.”

The bluffs were now magnificent. Thelimestone strata extended in straight lines,looking like streets; then a bold red blufftowered up like a great cathedral; then abuilding resembling the New York FreeAcademy, while lofty masses of rock,84crowned and encircled with verdure, continuallyremind one of the feudal castlesof the Rhine. It was with reluctancethey obeyed the summons to tea, whichwithdrew them from the ruddy cliffs ofWisconsin; but on returning to the deckthey saw them still, glowing in the lightof the setting sun:

There is the mouth of the Upper IowaRiver, on the boundary line of Iowa andMinnesota. “Good-by, Iowa,” said Norman,taking off his hat and waving it tothe receding state.

“Crossing the river again,” said Mrs.Lester. “We will soon be at the mouth ofthe Bad Axe River, but the light is fadingso rapidly that we will not be able to see85the spot of the decisive conflict betweenthe Indian and white man.”

“I never heard of that battle mother,will you tell me something about it?”

“It was at the close of the Black Hawkwar, in 1832. The Indians were entirelydefeated by the United States troops at thisplace. A number of squaws were slainin the wild confusion of battle, not beingdistinguished from the Indians in thelong grass into which they had fled forrefuge. One poor woman, as she receivedher mortal wound, clasped her child closeto her bosom, and fell over upon it,thus pinioning it to the ground. Thepoor little thing was found the next dayunder the lifeless body of its mother. Itsarm was broken, and the child was sostarved that, even during the painfuloperation of setting the broken bone, iteagerly devoured some meat given to itby the compassionate soldier who hadrescued it from the arms now powerless86for its protection. The love of anothermother bore her safely over the deepwaters. She placed her papoose in herblanket, and holding it between her teeth,she swam across the broad river, andreached the opposite shore in safety.”

“It must have been a proud momentfor De Soto when he first looked upon thelower waters of this magnificent river,”said Mrs. Lester, as she sat with Normanon the guards of the boat the next morning;“what a scene it must have been;the canoes of the Indians floating on thewaters, while on the banks hundreds ofthe red men, with white feathers wavingo’er their brows, were gazing with wonderat their new visitors.

“And when he and his followers hadcrossed the bank, and the Indians kneltto the white chief, whom they thoughtwas one of the children of the sun, to88ask him for life for the dying, he toldthem to pray to God, who alone couldhelp them.

“Soon in this dreary western wildernessthe princely De Soto breathed hislast. His people, fearing to let the Indiansknow of his death, wrapped up hisbody, and buried it beneath the watersof the great river he had discovered;while, for the first time, a Christian requiem,softly chanted in the darkness,mingled with the music of its winds andwaves.”[1]

1. De Soto never saw the Upper Mississippi. He ascendedthe Lower Mississippi as far as the Missouri. Hedied and was buried somewhere near the mouth of theArkansas River.—Ed.

“And so,” said Norman, “the mightyriver is a memorial of him. How muchI would like to have seen birch-canoesfloating on the river. And I do believethere is one made fast to the shore justby that ‘dug-out.’”

89“What an ugly word ‘dug-out’ is; sodifferent from the birch canoe,” said Mrs.Lester.

“But, mother, it just tells what it is;a trunk of a tree, hollowed or dug out inthe shape of a boat. But see how prettythat bark canoe is! Don’t you rememberwe were reading about it in Hiawatha;how he girdled the birch-tree just aboveits roots, and just below its lower branches,then cut it from top to bottom, and strippedit, unbroken, from the tree with awooden wedge?”

“Well, what did he do then?”

“He made a framework of cedar-boughs,like two bended bows, and thenhe sewed the bark together with the rootsof the larch-tree; bound it to the framework,and stopped up all the seams andcrevices with resin from the fir-tree. Andthen he embroidered it with porcupinequills.”

“You remember pretty well how the90canoe was made, Norman. I wish youcould recall some of those lines about thebirch canoe you were so fond of repeating.”

“I think I can, mother,” said Norman;“at any rate I will repeat what I remember:”

“I am very glad that I have seen abirch canoe; but I would like to see someIndians in it; not an Indian have I seenon the banks of this river. Now we aregoing to take in wood. I wish I could goon shore.”

It did, indeed, look most inviting, that91piece of woodland, with its high umbrageousroof, and deep dark recesses; andmany of the gentlemen went on shore togather flowers and cut sticks for canes;one of these was handed to Norman as aremembrance of the woods of Minnesota.

The bank was bordered with two longwood-piles; and one of the officers of theboat measured the height and length of asection; and, at a word, twelve stout Irishmensprung on shore, and seizing eachhis half dozen sticks, trotted on board.Rapid as were their movements, it was along time before the great wood-pile wastransferred to the deck of the steamer, butit was pleasant to enjoy the fragrance ofthe forest and the sweet songs of its birds.

About mid-day they entered Lake Pepin,an expansion of the river twenty-fourmiles long, and from two to four mileswide. It is a beautiful sheet of water,with high rocky bluffs on the eastern, androunded wooded hills on the western bank,92while it is bordered with a broad beachof white gravel. A fresh breeze crossedits waters, almost rising into a stiff gale.Sudden gales of wind are not uncommonon this lake, often obliging steamers tolay to until their violence is over.

On the western shore is the celebratedMaiden’s Rock, a bold, precipitous bluff,rising four hundred feet above the lake.All eyes were turned toward its toweringheight. Its story is one of great beauty.

A maiden of the Sioux had given herheart to a chief of her own tribe, who hadsought her love. The parents, however,would not consent to her alliance with theyoung brave, but insisted on her marryingan old chief, of great wisdom and influencein the nation. The marriage-daywas fixed, and Oola-Ita, with other Indianmaidens, was gathering berries on thebrow of this cliff for the wedding-feast.Suddenly a plaintive song rose on the sea,and they saw the beautiful Oola-Ita poisedgracefully on the very edge of the precipice,her head upraised, and her longhair floating in the wind, as she warbledher parting song. In a moment, beforea friendly hand could arrest her, sheleaped from the precipice, and was dashedto pieces on the rocks below.

95Six miles above Lake Pepin is the townof Red Wing, finely situated on the riverbank, beneath the shadow of a toweringbluff. There was formerly the village ofTalangamane, or the Red Wing, esteemedthe first chief of his nation. The universitywhich bears Bishop Hamline’sname, and which has been founded by hisliberal gift, may be seen from the water,and near it is a large Methodist church.

Two weeks after a terrible accidenthappened at this town. The steamerGalena took fire. The pilot manfullykept his place at the wheel; amid thescorching flames he brought the boat to theshore, and kept her there till the passengers96had escaped. A mother and threechildren were lost, but the rest stood intheir night-clothes on the shore; some ofthem stripped of the means which wereto provide them with a home in the newcountry to which they were going, butthankful for lives saved from flood andflame.

The presiding elder of the district cameon board at Red Wing. He was introducedto Mrs. Lester by a Baptist minister,who was returning to St. Paul with hisbride. He had been in the country fortwelve years, and his varied knowledgemade him a most agreeable companion.He had been brought in familiar contactwith the Indians and with the settlers;he could tell of the wigwam, and the logcabin, and the thriving towns now replacingthem; he knew the character ofthe strata of the river bank and the namesof the trees in the forest. He had visitedan Indian mission four hundred miles97above the Falls of St. Anthony; had ascendedpart of it in a canoe carried overthe portage past the rapids, by half-breeds.A most quiet, domestic river it is aboveSt. Anthony, flowing through beautifulprairies covered with grapes and wildflowers, diversified with gentle hills andgroves of oak. These prairies were formerlythe resort of herds of buffaloes anddeer; wolves, too, roamed over them,and just before dawn might be heard thehideous cry of the great white owl.Abundance of water-fowl used to be seenhere; ducks, geese, pelicans, swans, andsnipe; while the hawk, buzzard, and eaglesailed on lofty wing in the regions of upperair.

The waters of the St. Croix River lookedblue and beautiful as they flowed fromthe lovely lake at its mouth into the moreturbid waters of the Mississippi, withwhich they refuse for some time to mingle,the currents of different hues running side98by side. Magnificent forests, huge trees(primeval) of stately trunk and deep richfoliage, adorn the shores of the river, orthe large islands in its broad bosom.

Norman saw three wigwams on one ofthese islands, and two Indian boys seatedon the shore. Not very far from this wasformerly a Sioux village of Le Petit Corbeau,or the Little Raven. An anecdoteis told of this Indian chief, which veryfinely illustrates the Saviour’s precept:“If any man take away thy coat, let himhave thy cloak also.”

The Little Raven, going one morningto examine his beaver-trap, found a sauteurin the act of stealing it. The thief,looking up, saw the chief of a nation withwhich his own was at war, standing lookingat him with a loaded rifle in his hands.The culprit expected instant death. Howgreat then was his astonishment whenthe Sioux chief, approaching him, said:“Be not alarmed, I come to present you99the trap, of which I see you stand in need.You are entirely welcome to it. Take mygun also, as I perceive you have none ofyour own, and depart with it to the landof your countrymen; but linger not here,lest some of my young men, who arepanting for the blood of their enemies,should discover your footsteps in ourcountry, and should fall upon you.” So saying,he gave him his gun and his accoutrements,and returned unarmed to his village.

One would think that this Indian chiefmust have heard and received the sublimewords of the apostle:

“Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves,but rather give place unto wrath:for it is written, ‘Vengeance is mine; Iwill repay,’ saith the Lord; therefore, ifthine enemy hunger, feed him; if hethirst, give him drink: for in so doingthou shalt heap coals of fire on his head.Be not overcome of evil, but overcomeevil with good.”

St. Paul, “the diadem city of thenorthwest,” situated on high bluffs, at abend of the river, looked very imposingin the light of a glowing sunset. Thenoisy cries of the hackmen and runnersfor the different hotels filled the air asthe boat touched the wharf. Fourteen ofthe passengers took the stage for St. Anthony’sFalls. Norman was seated onthe top of the stage-coach. The glimmeringtwilight and the pale moonlightwere not, however, very favorable for distantviews of a new country. Companiesof emigrants had pitched their tents and101kindled their fire to cook their eveningmeal. The light played upon the facesof parents and children grouped aroundthe fire, and fell upon the white cover ofthe prairie wagons, near which the horseswere tied.

There were glimpses of the Mississippi,of a large hotel and a high observatory;and exclamations from sleepy childrenat the great musquetos lighting upontheir faces in the darkness. There was asound of waters in the air, and a greatbuilding loomed up in the dim light, andthey were at the Winslow House. Greathalls, large parlors richly furnished, andbed-rooms with velvet carpets and luxuriouslystuffed chairs. Very grand for thenorthwest. It was past eleven o’clock,and the wearied travelers were glad toseek repose.

At four o’clock in the morning Mrs.Lester was awakened by a knock at herdoor. It was from an untiring fellow-traveler,102who wished to see all that wasto be seen in time to return to the GreyEagle at ten. Mrs. Lester thanked her,but said she could not get ready in time,and from her window she watched thelady, her brother, and her niece on theirway to the falls and the bridge. Sightseeingseemed particularly unattractive inthat grey morning twilight that clothesthe landscape with a more sober liverythan that of evening.

After some ineffectual attempts toarouse Norman, Mrs. Lester went to theobservatory, at the top of the great hotel,to see the sun rise. It was a noble view;the town of St. Anthony immediately beneaththe eye; the Mississippi, with itsfalls, suspension bridge, and wooded islandabove, and the rocky chasm below; Minneapolis,with its spires and fine hotels, onthe opposite side of the river, and theboundless prairie meeting the sky in thatencircling horizon.

105At length Norman was awakened, andafter sundry calls from his mother tohasten his movements, he sallied forthwith her for a walk. Walking down thestreet for some distance, they crossed alittle bridge leading past a large stonemill, and after scrambling over a stonypath, they came to the edge of the riverand in view of the falls. Norman’s disappointmentwas great. “Why, mother,”said he, “have we come all this distanceto see these falls?”

In truth they were not very imposing.The stream above was filled with logs,floated down to be sawed in the mill, andmany of them were lodged above and belowthe fall, while a shingle-machine wasbuilt in the center. Man’s work had takenaway all the wild grace of nature.

The fall is only seventeen feet high, butthe whole scene looks finely from thebridge below, and from the Minneapolisside, whence it was seen by the party that106set out on their rambles at four o’clock inthe morning.

It was a very warm morning, but nearthe river the air was cool and refreshing,and Norman gathered wild roses androse-buds in all their dewy freshness.The charm of early birds, too, was notwanting at Owah-Menah, the musicalIndian name, changed by Father Hennepin,a French missionary, who visitedthis spot in 1680, to St. Anthony’sFalls.

As the falls of a mighty river, they areworth seeing; and they are at the point oftransition from the prairies of the UpperMississippi, to the rugged limestonebluffs below; oaks growing above, andcedars and pines below.

On their way to the hotel Normangathered some purple flowers growing ingreat profusion, while his mother wanderedto the suspension bridge so gracefullythrown over the river, looked at the107pretty wooded island, and at the mass ofdrift logs collected in the boom.

After a nice and beautifully servedbreakfast, Norman and his mother gotinto a carriage to return to St. Paul andthe Grey Eagle. They would have likedto spend the day at St. Paul, but Mrs.Lester was anxious to return home, as shethought she would be able to do, beforethe Sabbath. They crossed the suspensionbridge, drove through Minneapolis,called to say good-by to Mrs. Lisle andthe children, who had added so much tothe pleasure of their river travel, andthen rapidly over the broad prairie.

Their attention was attracted by alonely tomb, deeply shaded with trees, onthe banks of the Minnehaha, and thedriver told them that it was the tomb ofthe young wife and child of an officer ofthe army, who, when stationed at FortSnelling, buried his beloved ones on thebanks of this romantic stream.

108The driver stopped; they were on theprairie, with nothing to excite expectation.

2. See Frontispiece.

Then getting out of the carriage, anddescending a narrow path, the fall wasbefore them, perfectly satisfying in itsbeauty; a gem of a fall, at once stampingits image on the memory; “a thing ofbeauty” to be “a joy forever.”

The fall is sixty feet high, and makesone graceful leap over an amphitheaterof rock, that recedes far enough to enableone to walk round behind the fall, beneaththe overhanging cliff. One largetree grew on the steep bank on whichthey stood, sufficiently near to make a fineforeground to the picture, and throw itsmasses of foliage across the fall. Therewas nothing to mar the perfect loveliness109of the scene. A stir in the branches ofthe great tree against which Normanleaned induced him to look up, and there,upon the bough,

Norman watched him leap surely frombranch to branch, over the deep abyssbelow, and then gathered some prettyflowers within reach, and asked the guideto gather some graceful hare-bells thathung over the steep cliff.

Another look from the head of the falls,and a few more flowers gathered, whichthey pressed, together with the rose-budsfrom Owah-Menah, and they got intothe carriage.

Soon they reached Fort Snelling, inwhich Norman was very much interested.They drove round the deserted barracks,no longer astir with “the pomp and circ*mstance110of war.” Norman would haveenjoyed seeing the sentinel on duty andthe soldiers on parade. His motherthought of the lonely lives the officersand their families must have led on thatfrontier post, far, far as it then was fromthe center of civilized life.

The fort commands a noble view, placedas it is on a commanding bluff at thejunction of the Mississippi and the St.Peters rivers. The valley of the St. Peters,sloping upward, with its sunnyfields, its aromatic grasses, and noblegroves, stretches onward in its beauty asfar as the eye can reach. In this valleyis found the fine red stone of which theIndians make the bowls of their pipes; thered paint the Sioux use so much, and theblue and green clay used in painting, arealso found here. This lovely valley hadrecently been the scene of a bloody battlebetween the Sioux and Chippewas, andthe driver told Norman that he had seen111some of wounded Indians carried throughSt. Anthony by some of their tribe.

From the earliest times these two nationshave been at war; a feud transmittedfrom generation to generation.

How few of these Indians have learnedthe great lessons of loving kindness whichthe white men ought to have taught them.Steadily retreating from their broad prairies,their great lakes and rivers, beforethe advancing tread of the white man,they have not, as they gave up their beautifulhomes, got a title to a grander andmore glorious inheritance in the spiritland. How many have received firewaterand fire-arms, at the hand of thewhite man! how few have taken fromhim the cup of salvation! Some of thecustoms of the Sioux seem to indicatethat they have come from Asia, acrossthe narrow straits that divide the twocontinents. They offer sacrifices andprayers to an unknown God; they have112feasts of thanksgiving after deliverancefrom danger; they offer meat and burnt-offerings;they burn incense. These customs,together with their peculiar countenancesand utterances, their own traditions,and the testimony of other nations,have convinced careful observers thatthey are descendants of a race ofAsiatics.[3]

3. Pike’s Expedition.

The road winds around the hill onwhich the fort is built, and Norman sawmany swallows flying into nests excavatedin the banks of white sand-stone.

Crossing the river by a rope ferry, theyascended the opposite bank, and droverapidly onward till they stopped to visitCarver’s Cave.

There are several large rooms roundedin the white sand-stone, which crumblesat the touch. The floor was of pure whitefine sand, powdered, while through thecave flowed a stream clear as crystal.113Norman stooped and drank freely of thecool refreshing water. He was delighted.“How beautiful these arched walls are,”he exclaimed; “how curious to have suchrooms hollowed out of the earth.”

There were other apartments to bereached, through a narrow passage, butthe driver had no torch with him, and itwas not advisable to venture in the darkness.Norman broke off a piece of thesand-stone as a memorial of the cave, andthen hastened to the carriage.

Over the prairie, with its abundant blossoms;along the high bluffs upon whichSt. Paul is built; through a long busystreet; a pause at the door of a gentlemanwhom Mrs. Lester had known in herold home in the East, and they were oncemore on the Grey Eagle.

And there was the lady whom they hadleft at the Winslow House, just gettingout of the stage. Her face brightened asshe heard of Fort Snelling, the lovely114Minnehaha, and Carver’s Cave; but thenshe had had a very satisfactory view ofSt. Anthony’s Falls, and had been ableto verify, in the truth-telling daylight,the vague and indistinct impressions of amoonlight drive.

The gentleman whom Mrs. Lester hadcalled to see, and who was out driving atthe time, came to the boat to see her, andpromised her many lovely drives if shewould prolong her visit. There weremany things to say of old friends andscenes, and he sat talking in the saloontill Norman ran in to say that the boathad left the wharf. Good-by was hurriedlysaid, and Mr. —— hastened tothe captain to ask him to put him ashore,as he was not prepared for a voyagedown the Mississippi.

“That is the way,” said the captain;116“people do not mind their own business,and then I have to attend to it.”

He good-humoredly, however, gave theorder to arrest the course of the proudsteamer, and direct its prow to the oppositeshore. It was the work of some minutes,for they are obliged, in stopping at alanding going down stream, to turn thebow up the current.

“Well, captain,” said Mr. ——, as hesprang on shore, “I promise you to godown twice in the Grey Eagle for this.”

There were some curious caves on theeastern bank of the river, walled up andwith windows in them. In one of thesethe owner keeps his vegetables, as it isperfectly protected from the frost.

Going down the river was the going upreversed, and yet the same scenery becamenew, seen under different aspects.The broad sunlight that now lay on landand water was not so favorable to artisticeffect as the softened light and the117lengthening shadows of the previousevening.

After dinner the Rev. Mr. Maynardasked Mrs. Lester to go into the bow ofthe boat, where there was a cool breeze,most welcome in that sultry summer day,and a fine view of the scenery. Normanwould not go; he was tired, and preferredreading in the saloon, where his motherleft him. Nearly an hour passed away,and as they were, approaching the St.Croix River, Mrs. Lester said: “I mustshow Norman this beautiful sheet ofwater; he did not see it when we wentup.”

Through the long saloon she went,opened her state-room door, he was notthere; out on the guards, not there. Sheasked the stewardess, who had not seenhim since dinner. Breathless with agitation,Mrs. Lester rushed upstairs to thehurricane-deck, meeting Mr. Maynard,who had come up the opposite side to118look in the pilot-house; the boy was notthere! where could he be?

Mr. Maynard had looked in the steerage,the barber’s shop; there was no cornerof the boat unvisited, and the terribledread that he had fallen overboard wassettling down on his mother’s heart as shesank down on a chair in the saloon, whenthe stewardess exclaimed, as she openedthe door of the state-room, “Here he is,asleep in the upper berth!” And therehe was, fast asleep, with two life-preservers,which he had tied around him, andwhich his mother had mistaken for a graycomforter.

Norman, awakened, looked down withsome wonder at the group at the door.It was very hot; the sun’s fervent rayswere shining upon the state-room, and thelife-preservers rather added to the heat,so that Norman had had a pretty warmtime. But he had made up by a soundsleep for the late sitting up of the night119before, and the early rising at St. Anthony,and he was now quite ready to enjoythe afternoon.

Mr. Maynard, greatly relieved that Normanwas found, pointed out his house onthe high bank of the river at Prescott,and then said good-by, as he was goinghome.

Lake Pepin looked finely, with the“wavy curvature of its guardian hills;”and again the Maiden’s Rock attractedall eyes. Lake City is prettily situatedbeneath the bluffs on the western bank.A young girl, who there came on theboat, told a sad story.

A few days before, a party of merryyoung people got into a boat, to sail overto Maiden’s Rock. The party was plannedto celebrate the birthday of a younggirl who, with her sister, and two friends,sisters, on a visit to them, had just returnedfrom school for their vacation.Two young gentlemen and another young120lady completed the party. The morningwas bright, and the sail charming. Therewas no cloud in the sky, no shadow onthat youthful group. They climbed theMaiden’s Rock, gathered berries like thoseIndian maidens, and talked of the sad fateof the chief’s daughter; little dreamingthat in a few short hours the fate of Oola-Itawas to be theirs, that they, too, werelooking for the last time on the waters ofLake Pepin!

On their return a sudden flaw of windupset their boat in the middle of the lake.The young men charged the young girlsto hold fast to the boat as it floated, upturned,in the water. They did so till,one by one, their hands becoming numband powerless, and their strength exhausted,they sunk to rise no more! Thelong hair of one of the girls became entangledaround the button of the coat ofone of the young men, and he succeededin lifting her up, and reaching the shore121with her. The four sisters were gone,and as the three survivors entered thetown with their heavy tidings, the friendsof the two sisters visiting Lake City drovein to take them home. Alas, they werealready beyond the reach of earthly helpor love!

In a few days the bodies of these fouryoung girls were found, two of them fardown at the other end of the lake. Everyheart sympathized with the bereaved parents,and while their house was left tothem desolate, the shadow of grief restedon the whole town.

A clear sunset and fading twilight gaveplace to the rising glories of the queen ofnight.

About ten o’clock the boat stopped bythe side of a forest to take in wood. Pinefa*gots, lighted on the shore, cast a ruddyglow on the men, who ran rapidly to andfro with their burden.

The moonlight slept peacefully on the122waters, while from out of the shadowyrecesses of the grove a whippowillcharmed the night into silence. Rapid,clear, and distinct were those sweet sounds,as if he wished to sing his song for thelistening ears soon to be far away. Heseemed to have all the wood to himself, ashe warbled his delicious notes. In harmonywere they with the still beauty ofthat summer night, with the mystery ofthat woodland scene, and the quiet rippleof the moonlit waters.

“Loud, and sudden, and near, the noteof the whippowill sounded, like a flutein the woods; and anon, through theneighboring thickets. Further and furtheraway it floated, and dropped intosilence.”

Later in the night there was alarm andconfusion on board. The steamer Itasca,at a landing, ran into the Grey Eagle,breaking her paddle-wheel. There was acrash, and for some time none knew the123extent of the injury received. The engineswere stopped. The emigrants sleepingon the deck, near the broken wheel,roused by the collision, were transferred,with their sleeping children, to the otherside, and fruitless attempts were made torepair the injury. After a delay of twohours the machinery was again set in motion,and the one paddle-wheel had to doall the work. Happily Norman and hismother, who were on the quiet side of theboat, slept through all the noise and confusion.

Early in the morning Winona appeared,surrounded by its protecting hills,reposing, as do most of those pretty towns,in the shadow of the great bluffs, “likepeace in the bosom of strength.”

The boat stopped for some time at LaCrosse, a very nourishing town. HereMrs. Lester saw two Indians in blanketsand leggings, a sight Norman missed, tohis great disappointment. He was at theother end of the boat, too far off to besummoned in time.

The pilot, having just left his watchof six hours, came and invited them to125come up to the pilot-house in the afternoon.It was a welcome invitation, forthe day was very warm, and the pilot-house,with its cool breeze, and its commandingview of the scenery, was a mostdesirable place. Norman admired thehandsome pilot as, with steadfast eye anderect figure, he stood at the wheel, scanningthe waters, and guiding the vessel inthe channel, winding round the islands,and from one shore to the other of thegreat river. Turning the wheel, first tothe right, and then to the left, it seemsvery easy work, a very simple operation;and yet what destinies depend upon thosemovements; fortune, happiness, life, allinvolved! Hundreds of human beingspass days of enjoyment and nights ofquiet rest because they have faith in theirpilot.

And there are men who, as they guidethe pen, or utter calm, truthful words, orpray in the deep of their hearts, seem to126be doing very little, and yet those pentraces, those simple words, those earnestprayers, may guide hundreds in the perilousvoyage of life, may direct their courseaway from the shoals and snags thatthreaten destruction, and float them safelyto their desired haven.

Norman was greatly mortified at thedisabled state of the Grey Eagle, one wingbroken, how could she maintain her triumphantflight? Others accustomed toyield the palm, now passed her with ease.

“I hope they know that her paddle-wheelis broken,” said Norman; “justlook at those boats; what efforts they aremaking to pass us!”

Norman watched the boats with greatinterest, as they put on more steam, anddarted past the Grey Eagle, making thelandings before her, and carrying off thewaiting passengers.

The view, crossing the river from Prairiedu Chien, overlooking the islands as127they now could from their elevated position,was extremely fine.

The Northern Light and the Grey Eaglemet at M’Gregor’s Landing, and thecaptain of the latter was telling the captainof the former about his broken paddle-wheeland his consequently tardyprogress.

“There is a lady trying to speak toyou,” said the pilot. On the NorthernLight was Mrs. Ralston, with whom Mrs.Lester had intended to journey to St. Paul.Handkerchiefs were waved and mutesignals attempted, but the few desiredwords of explanation were wanting. Nearand yet afar off. The boats soon partedfor their opposite points of destination,and Mr. and Mrs. Ralston, from the hurricanedeck, waved their good-by. Nearlyopposite M’Gregor’s landing is the mouthof the Wisconsin River.

“There was a memorable voyage onthat river nearly two hundred years ago,”128said Mrs. Lester. “Two canoes, containingseven men, floated down these waters,‘entering happily this great river with ajoy that could not be expressed.’”

“Who were they, mother?”

“Father Marquette, the gentle, goodmissionary; Joliet, a citizen of Quebec,and five Frenchmen, their companions.They had left the Fox River, which flowsinto Green Bay, and carrying their canoes,they crossed the narrow portage thatdivides it from the Wisconsin on the 10thof June, 1673. Down the river for sevendays, floating in those majestic solitudes,seeing neither man nor beast, passingbeautiful prairies, and green hillsides, thediscoverers at length reached the greatriver which they were seeking to find.

“And where did they go then?” askedNorman. “Over these waters the lightbirch bark canoes floated for about sixtyleagues. Then they landed on the westernbank of the river, where they saw129foot-prints on the shore. They followedthem till they came in sight of an Indianvillage.

“They commended themselves to God,and cried aloud. Four old men advancedto meet them, bearing the calumet, thepeace-pipe, adorned with brilliant feathers,and saying, “We are Illinois,” whichmeans, “We are men.” The Indians invitedthe strangers to their village, prepareda feast in their honor, and entertainedthem for six days. Several hundred warriorsthen escorted them to their canoes,hanging around the neck of Marquette,on parting, the calumet, with its plumageof various hues, a pledge of safety for thewanderers among savage tribes.”

“Do go on, mother, and tell me somethingmore about Marquette. I think hisadventures are very interesting.”

“I know little more about him, exceptthat he sailed down the river past theMissouri and the Ohio, and that some130warlike Indians, armed with clubs, axes,bows and arrows, came out to meet themwith the fearful war-whoop. Marquettestood up, holding the sacred peace-pipe,and God touched the hearts of the Indians,so that at the sight of this symbol theythrew their bows and arrows into thecanoes, and welcomed the strangers.

“On their return they sailed up theriver Illinois, through the beautiful prairies.The tribe of Illinois that live on itsbanks wanted the good missionary toremain with them, and one of their chiefs,with his young men, led the party to LakeMichigan, by way of Chicago. HereMarquette remained to preach to theMiamis north of Chicago, and Jolietreturned to Quebec, to announce the discoveryof the upper Mississippi.

“And what became of the good Marquette?”

“Two years afterward, as he was goingto Mackinaw, he entered a little river in131Michigan, which, for a long time afterward,was called by his name. He requestedthe men who paddled his canoeto carry him ashore. They did so; andthere, with no shelter but the little barkcabin which his men hastily erected, heendured great agony. But he seems tohave had faith in Christ, and died in greatpeace. In the gloom of the vast forestshe slept to wake again in the green solitudesof the New World. His companionsdug his grave on a rising ground near theriver, and buried his body, which wasafterward taken up by the Indians, andcarried with great respect to old Mackinaw,and placed in a little vault of aCatholic church, which has long sincedisappeared.”

The scenery that on their upward coursewas vailed in mist and drizzling rain, wasnow seen in its “fairest, happiest attitude.”Nothing was wanting to “thegentle grace” of that parting day. Purple,132crimson, and gold painted the westernsky, as the sun sank slowly below thehorizon, lighting up a fairy scene on theplacid waters of the river. Then, as theonward motion of the boat rudely disturbedthe sleeping glory, new combinationsof beauty sought to make amendsfor the loss of the serene picture of theradiant heavens. Golden ripples, a honeycombof black and gold, lay betweenthem and the wooded banks towardwhich, as the gorgeous tints now faded onearth and sky, Norman directed his attention.

Rocks, decayed trees and branchescovered with moss and lichen, were faithfullymirrored in the waters, giving akaleidescopic effect to every object. Normansaw, simultaneously with his mother,exquisitely tinted butterflies, insects ofgreen and gray, stone altars, rustic letters,and many other objects. Exclamationsof wonder and admiration were echoed133from one to the other at some of thesemarvelous combinations; and it was withreluctance they turned, as the twilightdeepened, from the margin of the woodlandto the clear outline of the trees againstthe western sky. There was still roomfor fancy to sketch her pictures, and callup birds and beasts in that varied outline.

“This is the pleasantest afternoon ofall,” cried Norman; “it is so nice for usto be by ourselves.”

“And yet you forsook me first, Norman,and, absorbed in your play, lost thefirst views of the Mississippi. You saidthere was a want with children whichchildren alone could supply—a demandof the social nature.”

“I know it, mother; I know that I saidso, and I enjoyed those merry games verymuch; but after all this has been thehappiest time.”

A very pleasant room at the JulienHouse afforded a welcome retreat on theSabbath. It was intensely hot; the burningrays of the sun were reflected fromthe towering bluffs that shield the townfrom the west wind. A walk of a mileand a half through the main street ledthem to the Methodist church, wherethe services were very animating anddelightful.

A cordial greeting from the minister,who had known Mrs. Lester in the East,135was followed by a kind invitation to theparsonage, next door to the church. Therewas a beautiful bunch of flowers on thetable, gathered on the prairies the daybefore. One, the moccasin flower, a largeyellow flower, with a sort of pouch likea gigantic calceolaria, Norman had neverseen before, and he was very much pleasedwhen a number of them were given tohim.

Several churches to which Mrs. Lesterwent in the afternoon were closed, so shecontinued her walk to the same church,where she heard a very good sermonfrom the Presbyterian minister, to whosecongregation the use of the Methodistchurch was given while their own wasbeing repaired.

The street she took on her return homeled her nearer to the bluff, up which peoplewere creeping to get some cool air inthe oppressive stillness of that summerafternoon. Every door was open, and136quiet pleasant interiors were revealed tothe passer-by; family groups, seated on theporch or in the parlor, reading or takingtheir tea.

Toward evening, as he was sitting onthe window, Norman saw a number ofpeople flocking to the Levee, and he askedhis mother’s permission to follow them,and ascertain what had happened. Hesoon returned, looking very grave anddowncast. He had been in the presenceof death. A young man of nineteen hadbeen drowned the evening before, seizedwith sudden cramps while bathing, andthey had just found his body. There itlay, floating on the water, the head downward,the limbs drawn up; and in thesolemn presence of death light and carelesswords had been spoken that shockedNorman, touched as he was by the unfamiliarsight. The drowned lad wasFrench, an orphan and a stranger in theland, with no one to miss him or mourn137for him, save one loving heart, that ofa sister, left alone without kindred orfriends. Later in the evening the vehiclecontaining the body stopped at aconfectioner’s, on the opposite side of thestreet, and the young man was carriedin to the room he had left the eveningbefore, in the fullness of life and health.

Well is it in this life of uncertainty,when the happiest moments may bedarkened by the presence of this grimvisitor, to be prepared for his coming;to have our fear of him taken away; tobe able to look upon him as the messengersent to call us to our Father’s house.

“In the midst of life we are in death:to whom then, O Lord, can we turn butunto thee!”

The morning came bright and warm asever.

At the boat Norman was delighted tosee his friend, the pilot of the Grey Eagle,who introduced them to Captain Gray,of the Kate Cassel. There he saw too thelady who brought with her memories ofthe early dawn at St. Anthony. “Youlike to see everything that is to be seen,”she said to Mrs. Lester; “under that barespot you see on the bluff south of thetown is the grave of Dubuque, the Indianchief who once owned all this land.”

“Mother,” said Norman, as their kindly139informant left them, “Dubuque is avery strange name for an Indian chief tohave; he must have been named by theFrench when he was a child.”

“Julien Dubuque,” replied his mother,“was not an Indian, but a Frenchman, whobought all this valuable mining region,so rich in fine lead ore, from the Indians,in 1788. They had been discovered twoyears before by the wife of Peosta, anIndian warrior. Dubuque died in 1810.The Julien House is named, I suppose, inhis honor.”

For a hot and weary hour the deckhands were busy taking on freight: firstbarrels from a warehouse on the Leveeat Dubuque; then at Dunleith, a numberof reapers and mowers, very heavy andcumbersome to be moved.

As soon as the boat was in motionCaptain Gray asked Mrs. Lester if shewould go to the pilot-house, as that wasthe coolest part of the boat. Very kindly140he escorted her thither across the hurricane-deck.It was a delightful changefrom the heated atmosphere below to thecool refreshing breezes above.

“Two eagles at once,” said the captain.“There is something for you to look at,my boy.”

There was the Grey Eagle, her paddlesboth in motion, and the War Eagle followingher in her northward course; agreat sight for Norman.

The banks are well wooded, and ofsome elevation, and there are prettyislands; but the scenery is more monotonousand not so grand as that of the UpperMississippi. The river is much moreshallow, and can be navigated only by asmaller class of steamboats.

The captain pointed out to them, onthe banks of the river, the entrance to alead mine, and a hill-top called PilotKnob.

At two o’clock they approached Fulton,141and the captain courteously took them onshore.

Fulton, the terminus of an air-line roadfrom Chicago, is rather an uninvitinglooking place, with a grand hotel, suitablefor a great city; a destiny Fultondoes not seem likely to achieve.

Seated in the cars, Norman saw the sunset for the last time on the great riverthat had become to him a familiar friend;saw the Rock River gleam in the moonlight;and soon after the welcome lightsof his uncle’s home.

Norman had a great deal to tell hisuncle and aunt about the Mississippi, andMinnehaha, and the boats, and the littleincidents of their journey, and the weekhe was to spend at Dixon passed rapidlyaway.

One day Norman’s aunt took Mrs. Lesterto see Father Dixon, the patriarch ofthe place to which his name is given.The hotel also bears the name given to142him by the Indians, Nachusah, or theWhite Haired. His long flowing whitehair makes him look very venerable; andthere is an expression of gentleness in hisdelicate features that wins the love of thechildren of the town, who all call himGrandpapa. He established a ferry overthe Rock River thirty years ago, whenthere were no white people in all thecountry round, and lived here in his solitarydwelling by the river side.

He lives there still; and Mrs. Lesterwas very much interested in her visit tohim, and in his accounts of the Indianswho formerly roamed over these prairies,now the fruitful farms of the whitemen.

One day a gentleman, who lived on theopposite side of the river, sent his two carriagesover for Norman’s uncle and aunt,his mother and himself. As Norman wasin the woods with Herbert Waldorf, theywent without him. The bridge had been143carried away by the flood, so they crossedby the rope ferry. A very stout wirerope was stretched across the river, and ascow was fastened to this by a rope whichslipped by a wheel along the iron cable.When they drove on the scow, the manturned the prow of the boat up the current,which at once urged the boat onward.It is a very pleasant and rapidway of crossing the river, allowing oneto have a near look of the swiftly flowingwaters.

Mr. Dexter had a pretty cottage andfifty acres of prairie land just on the edgeof the town. Mrs. Lester went up stairsto see the extensive view of prairie fromErnest Dexter’s window, and then shelooked at a cabinet of fossils, most ofwhich he had collected himself in Illinois.There were some very fine specimens, andhe was kind enough to give Mrs. Lester anumber of them.

The music of the piano called forth the144rival notes of the mocking bird, and, accompaniedby several canaries, he madethe air vocal with sweet sounds. Mrs.Lester forgot what she was playing, socharmed was she with these delicioussongsters. Strawberries and ice-creamwere fully appreciated after the music, andthe evening’s entertainment concludedwith a magnificent sunset on the prairie.Golden clouds were penciled softly on theclear amber sky, while rugged wild cloudstowered up in stern contrast with thiscalm serenity. One could imagine thecliffs of Sinai in those gray clouds, so boldand lofty, while through a torn riftgleamed the soft blue sky. It was amemorable sunset even in the West,where they claim for their sunsets a peculiarbeauty.

Norman was very sorry when he heardhow much he had missed, especially asMr. Dexter had been kind enough tosend over twice for him. So he told145Harold Dexter, when he saw him atchurch the next day, that he would walkover with Herbert Waldorf on Mondaymorning.

After breakfast Norman and Herbertwalked over to Mr. Dexter’s, where theyfound the boys waiting for them. Aftera careful survey of Ernest’s treasury, andof a smaller cabinet belonging to Haroldand his brother, they set off, with basketsand hammers, in search of minerals. Theywent to a quarry and found a very finefossil, a portion of a petrified snake.They hammered at this for a long time,but they broke it all to pieces in endeavoringto get it out. Harold found, however,a large stone filled with petrifiedshells, which he kindly gave to Norman,who came home in the afternoonwith his basket filled with pieces ofrock.

One afternoon Norman saw three “prairieschooners” in the street before his146uncle’s door. These are the emigrant wagonswith their white tops, which look notunlike sails as you see them quietly movingon over the far reaches of the prairie.A number of horses and boys were standingnear them. The party were hesitatingas to their course; wishing to crossthe river, and seeing no bridge but therailroad bridge, they were making theirway to that, when they found they couldnot cross it. Hence the halt and theconsultation.

“Norman,” said his mother, “do goand find out where those emigrants aregoing.”

“O mother,” said Norman, “I wouldnot ask them for anything.”

“I will go then,” replied his mother,as she opened the garden gate, andwalked up to the last prairie wagon, inwhich a woman was seated with her fourchildren.

She seemed pleased to hear the accents147of a friendly voice, and soon told hersimple story.

Eight years before she had been left awidow, with six children. The boys oftwelve and fourteen did not wish to learna trade, and farming was not very profitablein the part of Pennsylvania whereshe lived; so she had come to seek, in thefertile fields of Iowa, bread for her children.She had worked hard, and days oftoil were still before her, but there wasmore hope in that virgin soil of securinga competence. The rich deep blackloam of these prairies often, at its firstsowing, bears a golden harvest, that givesback to the farmer the amount he haspaid for the land, and the expense of itscultivation.

Mrs. Lester asked the emigrant, inwhose patient face she had taken muchinterest, if she had any friends in the newand strange country to which she wasgoing.

148“O yes,” she replied; she had a marrieddaughter there, and a church andSunday school for her children. She wasa Methodist, as were the two familieswith whom she was journeying; and shewould have been unwilling to go whereher children would be deprived of theirreligious privileges.

There were fifteen persons in the company.They had driven from Pennsylvaniato Cleveland, where they had takenthe cars for Chicago. The wagon waslifted on the car, the cover taken off, andthe woman said she had had the pleasantestride she had ever taken in her life,looking over the lake and the prairie fromher elevated position. From Chicagothey had journeyed on, sometimes sleepingin their wagons, and sometimes onthe floor of some house opened for them.There were bright, black-eyed childrenpeeping from the recesses of the coveredwagon, as their mother was talking to149Mrs. Lester, and one little girl sat intentlyreading. Mrs. Lester bade her goodspeed,and the woman, with brightenedface, thanked her for her words of kindnessand sympathy.

The last day of their stay in Dixon atlength arrived, and with it came AuntClara, whom Norman had never seen before,but whom he very soon learned tolove. She showed him his picture whena baby, which his mother had sent her,and she found it difficult to trace any resemblanceto the tall boy before her.

Norman stayed with her and his unclein the evening, while his mother went outwith a gentleman and lady to take adrive on the prairies. The day had beenvery warm, but there was a cool breezeon those boundless meadows that undulatedpeacefully, in their rounded swells,to the far horizon. The corn was laughingin rich abundance, the wheat standingthick on the fields, after the sun had set,150leaving its luminous track of light in wavyradiance; one huge cloud towered up insolitary grandeur, its bold outline gildedby those parting rays.

Norman was very sorry to part with hisdear young friends, Alfred and Herbert;but he was very glad that his Aunt andUncle Lester, and his Aunt Clara, weregoing with them, so that he had not tosay good-by to them. As he had traveledover this road when he came west, hehad seen these broad prairies before, butthey were now enameled with brighterhues. Great patches of purple phlox, aprofusion of yellow flowers, and bright152red lilies, made all the broad expanse avast flower-garden. His Aunt Clara saidthat many of the prairie flowers were disappearingin the progress of cultivation.The cattle that now covered the plainsdestroyed them, and the plow rootedthem up.

“Yes,” said his uncle to Norman, “yourAunt Clara sometimes fancies her missionis to cultivate a blooming inclosure, inwhich she will preserve all the prairieflowers from the extinction to which theyare rapidly tending.”

Geneva, which they soon reached, is apretty town on the Fox River, and thehouse of Henry’s aunt, whom they hadcome to visit, had a view of the river andits wooded islands. Norman’s Aunt Claytonwas very glad to see him, and verykind to him, so that he was very happywith his new relations. His aunt wouldbring him, several times a day, a greattumbler of good rich milk, the like of153which he had not often seen. She sentfor Willie Clayton to meet Norman, andthe boys asked permission to bathe in theriver, Willie assuring Mrs. Lester that itwas perfectly safe. They were absent fora long time, and as neither of the boyscould swim, Mrs. Lester became veryanxious as the dinner-hour approached,and they had not yet returned. Mr. Claytonvery kindly offered to go in search ofthem, and while he was gone the boysmade their appearance. They did notknow that they had been so long away;they had waded over to the island, andthe time slipped away more quickly thanthey thought.

After dinner Norman said his backwas very much burned, exposed, as it hadbeen, to the fierce rays of the sun. Hismother put some flour on it, but aftera while, it became so painful that he hadto lie down on the bed and have it coveredwith flour. His neck, and back, and154arms were all bright scarlet, and he sufferedvery much from the intense burning.

The next day there was to be a schoolpicnic in the grove, and Willie was tospeak on the occasion. Norman said itwould be impossible for him to dress himself;but when the animating strains ofthe band floated in his window, as theprocession marched to the grove, hethought he might make the effort. Hismother helped him to put on his clothes,as his back was all blistered, and he walkedwith her and his aunt and uncle rathersoberly to the picnic.

The children were seated on benchesunder the trees, and a platform was erectedfor the speakers. Norman was soonseated beside Willie, who was also sufferingfrom his sun-burned back. The bandwas stationed near them, and between therecitations and declamations of the children,“discoursed most excellent music.”

After a while the company were invited155to partake of refreshments, and, precededby the band, they marched to anotherpart of the grove, where tables were tastefullyarranged, covered with an abundanceof good cake, and ornamented withflowers.

Norman and Willie were in the frontrank next to the rope that separated thechildren from the tables; but the pressurefrom behind was rather severe on theirtender backs, so they came to where theirmothers and aunts were standing.

Mrs. Lester was happy to recognize inone of the young men most active in providingfor the wants of the children, onewhom she had known in her former belovedhome in the East. Of his mother,who had been a near neighbor, she retaineda most kindly remembrance; andas she had been suddenly and recentlycalled to her home in the heavens, Mrs.Lester was glad to learn that her son, leftwith his brother almost alone in the156world, was active in this western town inthe Sabbath school and in the temperancecause, maintaining a consistent religiouscharacter. A great field for usefulnessis opened in the West to Christian youngmen. So many young men, in seedingtheir fortunes in these new and thrivingtowns, throw off the restraining influenceof their pious homes; absent themselvesfrom the house of God, and are thus easilyled aside by a thousand encircling temptations.

Exercises in geography, arithmetic, anddeclamation followed the feast, some ofwhich the band applauded in a very gracefulmanner. A number of children gatheredaround the musicians, and one littleboy, in a bright red frock, stood leaningagainst his father, close by the great drum,his eyes fixed on its great circumference, andhis eyelids winking every time it was struck.

After the exercises one of the ministersmade a very good speech, in which he157told the children that if they wanted torise above being mere drudges at the dictationof others, they must study, theymust work, they must learn to think.What they did, they must do with theirmight; when they played, they must playin earnest; and when they studied, theymust study in earnest; and that to be industriousand to be in earnest, was the onlyway to be anything, or to do anything inthe world.

He made the children laugh when hetold them that in some parts of NewHampshire the fields were so stony, thatit was jocosely said that the farmers sharpenedtheir sheep’s noses that they mighteat the grass growing between the stones.This was a wonderful story for westernchildren, who never saw stones on theirbroad fertile prairies.

As the band played its farewell, thecompany left the ground greatly pleasedwith the day’s entertainment.

The next day Norman was to go withhis mother and aunt to a camp-meeting.It had rained the night before, andthe clouds were gathering in rather athreatening manner, obscuring the heavens,and forming in dark masses at severalpoints on the horizon. It wasthought not very prudent to go, butthe strong desire in Mrs. Lester’s faceoverpowered the cooler judgment of theothers.

“If it does not rain,” said Mrs. Lester,“those clouds will certainly be better than159the broad glare of sunshine we have hadfor some days past.”

The carriage drove up to the door, andcalling for some friends who lived near,they were soon on their way. The drivewas very pleasant through the Fox valley,with frequent groves and pretty viewsof the river. They drove into the prettytown of St. Charles, across its fine bridge,with its noble piers, through the town onthe east of the river, and after a littlewhile into the deep woods in which thecamp-meeting was held. The roadthrough the woods was very bad: deepmud, and several sloughs, called in thewest slews. All these critical spots werehappily passed, and reaching the grovethey got out of the carriage and walkedon the camp-ground.

The gentleman who accompanied thembrought the carriage cushions to put onthe plank seats, which were rather dampwith the heavy rains of the night previous.160There were ministers in the elevatedcovered stand, appropriated tothem, and a large congregation gatheredfor a love-feast. It was pleasant to hearthem speak of the happiness of religion,to see the calm peace on their countenances,and to listen to their expressionsof love to their Saviour, of faith in him,and fixed resolve to live to his service.

An intermission of a few minutes beforethe public service gave Norman anopportunity of looking about him. Aboutthirty tents were pitched in a circle, andin the center of the amphitheater thusformed, seats were arranged for the congregationbeneath the shade of fine nobletrees that spread wide their branches.One, beneath which the preachers’ standwas placed, threw itself toward the othertrees, that bent as if to meet it, making amost picturesque group. At each cornerof the area there was a structure formedof four stout sticks, about five feet high,161on which rested a platform covered withturf. On these rude candelabras, atdark, they kindled pine knots, to givelight to the evening meetings and to theencampment. How much Norman wouldlike to have seen this wild woodland thusilluminated, the broad glare flashing onthe gathered groups.

An excellent sermon was preached on“Bear ye one another’s burdens, andso fulfill the law of Christ;” and then ayoung minister, with the sweet expressionof whose face Norman had been struck,got up and made an address full ofbeauty. It was enforcing the law ofkindness. He said that when they droveto the camp-ground the day before theyhad got into a slough on the road, andthere they were fast, the horses remainingquiet after some ineffectual attempts tomove forward. The driver, he was gladto say, betrayed no impatience, and didnot swear at the delay. Soon another162wagon drove up, and the driver, seeingthe difficulty they were in, at once unhitchedhis own horses and drew themout. And that was what, he said, weought to do when we saw people introuble, draw them out if we had thepower. He then spoke of the harsh judgmentwe often form of others, becausethey are deficient in some point uponwhich we lay stress. “Now,” he continued,“these trees that bend over usare not rounded and full on every side;some have their wealth of branches onone side, and some on another. And soChristians seldom present full symmetryof growth. One brother has a great dealof patience and very weak faith; and onesister has faith almost strong enough toremove mountains and very little patience.Now we should rather contemplatethe excellences of our Christianfriends than their deficiencies.”

He exhorted the people not to be like163those trees that are slow to yield theirfruit, whose fruit, hard and green, requireda vigorous shake to loosen itshold. “Rather,” said he, “be like thosegenerous trees, borne down with theirgolden fruit, blessing the eye, and thetouch, and the taste of all around—treesof blessing, making glad the heritage ofGod.” He spoke of words of kindnessand sympathy, how often they cheeredthe heart of the desolate, and brightenedthe path of the wayfarer. How oftenthose who were collecting for benevolentobjects were more cheered with the kindwords of one who had no money to give,than with the large gifts of another,grudgingly bestowed.

One word of counsel he gave, rather atvariance with ordinary exhortation. Hecharged his hearers to try not to be first,but to be second. “In your plans andpleasures think of some one before yourself;prefer the comfort of some friend to164your own; sacrifice your own ease to promotethe well-being of another, and youwill tread in the footsteps of Him whopleased not himself.”

Norman saw the tears in his Aunt Lester’seyes, as he turned to look at her,and he thought that she had learned thatlesson well, that she was always thinkingof other people, and preferring their comfortto her own.

The hymn, swelled by the united voicesof that large congregation, filled the grovewith its solemn harmony, and then thewords of the benediction fell like dewupon them.

Norman had never been to a camp-meetingbefore, and the scene had all thecharm of novelty to him. He saw thepeople preparing their meals in the rearof their tents, the fire made of dry stickson the grounds, and the kettle hung on across stick, placed in the notches of twoupright ones. The tables were spread in165the tents, and soon surrounded by familygroups. A lady, who knew Norman’saunt, invited them to dinner, afterwhich they returned to their seats,when the bell was rung for the afternoonservice.

The sermon was a good one, on “Gatherup the fragments that remain, that nothingmay be lost.”

Norman did not remember much of thesermon; but one fact, given by the ministerwho rose to exhort, made a great impressionupon him.

“At a time of great religious interest,”said he, “when many persons, awakenedto a sense of their danger, were inquiringwhat they should do to be saved, I spoketo three boys, and asked them if theycould not, by personal effort, lead someof their companions to the Saviour. Oneof the boys, a tall and thoughtful lad,stood a little apart from the rest, his eyesfixed on the ground, while I was talking166to them. He said nothing, but it was anhour of fixed resolve.

“Three days after one of the boyscame to me, and said: ‘Sir, do you rememberthe tall boy that stood near whenyou were talking to us?’ ‘Yes, I do,’ Ireplied. ‘Well, sir, he has been tryingever since to lead sinners to Christ; andhe has persuaded three men, and twowomen, and a little boy to give theirhearts to the Saviour; and there he is,sir, talking to that gray-haired man!’ Ifollowed the direction of the boy’s eye,and there stood the lad, his thoughtfulface all aglow with feeling, as he spokeearnestly to the old man, who shortlyafter came forward, and knelt as a penitentat the altar of prayer. Who canestimate the good thus accomplished bythe earnest efforts of this lad; and whymay not every one follow his example,and make it his business to lead souls toChrist?”

167It was with reluctance they left thishallowed scene, where they had beenpermitted to join the swell of holy song,and to hear so much that was profitable;teachings that ought to make them better.Norman would gladly have stayed for theevening services, to have seen those treesgleaming out in the ruddy light, but theywould not venture to travel that road inthe darkness. As it was they had a verypleasant drive home, where they camejust in time for tea.

The Sabbath dawned clear and beautiful,bringing refreshing breezes after theintense heat of the past fortnight. Afterthe morning service in the Methodistchurch Mrs. Lester stayed to the Bible classled by the minister. The lesson was theeighth chapter of Romans, and it was interestingto see two old men, with spectacles,bending earnestly over one book, andtalking over the meaning of the passage.The members of the class were all menand women, and there was a very freeinterchange of thought, as they looked169into the Scriptures of truth. One faceespecially attracted Mrs. Lester’s attention.It was a youthful face, rather large, veryfair, with light hair, blue eyes, and regularfeatures, not beautiful, but with asweet, heavenly expression on the highbrow, and in the untroubled eye. In theclass-meeting that followed the Bible class,she spoke calmly, but with an unfalteringtrust, of her love to the Saviour, as beingthe master-passion of her soul; that sheloved God supremely, and found him tobe a satisfying portion. Her father, wholed the class, spoke to her, with tears inhis eyes, of the time when her decrepitform would put on immortality, and wouldshine with glorious beauty; when shewould know no weary hours of pain, butwould dwell in the land where theinhabitants shall no more say, I amsick, but where all tears shall be wipedaway.

Yes, that sweet face was the face of a170cripple. Her form was shrunken andwithered, and her limbs had never carriedher whithersoever she would. Her fathertook her into his arms at the close of theservice, her limbs hanging limp and asif without life, and carried her to thelittle wagon in which he had drawn herto church. Mrs. Lester asked her if shewas not tired with the long service.

“O no,” she said; she would like to staythere till the evening prayer-meeting atfive o’clock.

It was not very often she could go tothe house of God. She felt with David,“A day in thy courts is better thana thousand: I had rather be a doorkeeperin the house of my God than todwell in the tents of wickedness.” O howshe loved the house of God, the placewhere his honor dwelleth.

This poor, crippled girl, who had knownno happy childhood, who had never beenable to participate in its sports, who had171always been confined to the narrow precinctsof a home destitute of all the luxuriesof life, who had been daily accustomedto pain and privation, had yet found thetrue secret of happiness. It lay like moonlighton her countenance. She had thatwithin which many of the rich and wiseand great, who look at will on the gloriousscenery of earth, who command the treasuresof literature and art, who surroundthemselves with all the comforts and appliancesof a home of elegant sufficiency,fail to gain—calm peace in her heart, perfectcontentment with her lot, and a springof never-failing happiness. Nor is sheuseless in the world, though she has noworldly means to give, nor hands or feetto do her bidding. The light of her holyexample, her patience, meekness, resignation,and faith, are treasures to the Church.Every Wednesday there is a prayer-meetingin her room, of which she takes thecharge, as she can be always present, and172the beauty and propriety with which shespeaks of divine things make her wordsvery profitable.

In the afternoon Mrs. Lester and Normanwent to the prayer-meeting. At the closeof the service Mrs. Day, to whom Mrs.Clayton had introduced her in the morning,came up and asked her to go homeby the way of her house, as she wished togather some flowers for her. The largegarden, filled with flowers and shrubbery,blooming most luxuriantly in that fertilesoil, looked cool and inviting. Mrs. Dayhanded Norman some flowers as the beginningof his bouquet, and told him togo and pick what he liked. Pink and whitespireces, double China pinks, a few lingeringJune roses, the pretty bee larkspur,the coreopsis, candytuft, and verbenas, weregathered in profusion by Mrs. Day’s lavishhand, and arranged in two bouquets for Mrs.Clayton and Mrs. Lester. “Four yearsago,” said she, “this garden was a bare173field. I never was so discouraged in comingto any new place.”

“You certainly have transformed itinto a very pleasant home,” replied Mrs.Lester. “Taste and cultivation, withsuch a soil as this, can soon work wonders.You can truly sit under your ownvine and fig-tree,” continued she, pointingto a beautiful grape-vine that hadcrept up a lattice, and inclosed with itsgraceful green curtain a verandah in therear of the house.

“Yes,” said she, “I planted that vinemyself, and it is a daily rejoicing to me,and a sermon too. It reminds me continuallyof that true Vine from which wemust draw all our life and sustenance.”

“It is well,” said Mrs. Lester, “to havedivine truths thus brought to our mindsby the objects that surround us.”

“My prairie home,” said Mrs. Day,“was really beautiful; that was quite tomy mind; a nice house shaded with trees,174adorned with shrubbery and flowers, andlooking upon broad fertile fields.”

“Why did you leave so pretty ahome?” asked Mrs. Lester.

“We came here to be near a church,and to enjoy religious privileges. Foryears after we went on the prairie ourhouse was the home of the preachers, andmeetings were always held there. Asthe country became more settled the serviceswere transferred to a church, fourmiles from us, and we at length concludedto give up our home to our son, and cometo spend the evening of our lives in aplace where we could constantly enjoythe services of God’s house. We havetried to make religion the chief businessof our life, and God has prospered us.”

“And you enjoy this new country?”inquired Mrs. Lester.

177“It seems to me,” she replied, “theoldest country God has made; suchriches as these are in the soil all readyand prepared for the seed of the sower,only waiting for man’s coming to yield ofits abundance.”

The sun was tinging town and prairiewith his parting beams, and the gardenwas already in deep shadow whenNorman and his mother, loaded withbright and fragrant flowers, returnedhome.

Early, very early the next morning,the fifth of July, Mrs. Lester was arousedby the firing of cannon, to celebrate ournational independence. Norman andWillie had kept the third, by firing offcrackers all day, and winding up withwheels, Roman candles, and blue lights,exhibited to an appreciating audience onthe portico in the evening. After breakfastNorman, his Aunt Clara, and hismother bade good-by, and got in thecarriage which was to convey them toBatavia, the spires of which were visible179from Mr. Clayton’s. It was a pleasantdrive of two miles in the Fox River valley.The man drove very fast, and theywere sorry to arrive so soon at the placeof their destination, especially when theywere told that they were to wait twohours for the arrival of the train. Thehackman, who had come for them beforethe time, had many demands for the carriage,for which he charged an extraprice in honor of the holiday. A numberof passengers were waiting for thetrain; many of them going to the celebrationat Aurora, a pretty town, all astirwith gaily dressed people, and a processionmarching to the grove where alreadya crowd was gathered. It was a mostlovely country, soft rolling prairie, withits wealth of golden wheat, of wavingcorn, of graceful barley, bordered byrich groves of timber, and dotted hereand there with towns and villages.

At Mendota they left their cars, and180entered those of the Illinois Central Railroad.There were several trains there,and a great number of passengers hurryingto and fro, and rushing in to dinner.Norman ran first into one store, and theninto another, to buy some torpedoes, ashe was very anxious to make some noise,to give vent to his patriotic feeling. Hecame back with a large box full, just intime, for the train was soon in motion.And the passengers too, for the road wasso rough that the people went dancing upand down in the most violent manner.Mrs. Lester asked the conductor if theroad was so rough all the way? No, hesaid; they had passed over the worst ofit. And with that hope Mrs. Lestertried to enjoy the beautiful prairies, andthe noble view of the Illinois River asseen from the high embankment overwhich the road passes.

Norman would like to have seen the“Starved Rock,” somewhere on this181river, whither some Indians, pursued bytheir enemies, fled for refuge. Theywere surrounded, and all escape from therock prevented by their encircling foes,who, day after day, waited for them tosurrender. At length they scaled therock, and found the garrison all starvedto death but one squaw, who calmlyawaited the entrance of her enemies.

The Starved Rock, however, was not insight, nor was any rock recalling thrillinglegend and heroic story; but anotherprospect, not so agreeable, from the rearof the car near which they were seated—along strait road, the rails of which wererather too much curved to suggest ideasof safety. “Don’t you think this roadvery unsafe?” inquired Mrs. Lester of agentleman who was contemplating thisretrospective view of dangers passed.

“Not very, but it might be safer.”

Up and down jumped all that car-loadof passengers, whose faces wore not the182calmest and brightest expression. Suddenlythere was an explosion that startledpeople rather ready to be startled, andMrs. Lester, remembering the torpedoes,turned to Norman, who was looking outof the rear window, and said reproachfully,“Norman, how can you do so?”

Every eye was directed toward theblushing lad, as he earnestly exclaimed,“Mother, it was not me.”

Returning to his seat he looked for thetorpedoes, which he found had been joltedoff the seat on the floor under his mother’sfeet, and a sudden movement of herfoot had caused the explosion of ten ortwelve of them. “There, mother, it wasyou after all,” said Norman, as he gatheredup his remaining torpedoes.

Again they were startled—a prolongedwhistle, and a stoppage of the cars on anembankment at a distance from any station.Every head went out of the windows,and some enterprising passengers183went out on the platform to learn the causeof this ominous pause. Again and againthat warning whistle; what did it mean?At length the matter was explained.About twenty horses were on the track,galloping on in front of the locomotive,which was obliged to pause till they separatedto the right and the left.

Right glad were the party when theyarrived at Bloomington. Mrs. Lesterwished to go to a very handsome hotel,the photograph of which had been shownto her on the Grey Eagle by the proprietorthereof. A large unfinished buildingseemed to her very like the photographshe had seen; but that could not be, asthe photograph must have been takenfrom the hotel in its finished, occupiedstate, with handsome stores beneath. Oninquiry she found this was the hotel inquestion, which stood there, an arrestedmonument of western enterprise. Theywent to the hotel opposite, and after tea184some friends of Aunt Clara’s called to seethem, and to ask them to walk.

Bloomington is a large, finely situatedtown, on the rising prairie, not far fromthe fine groves that mark the course ofSugar Creek. The president of the IllinoisUniversity (situated in a grove nearthe town) walked with them, and tookthem to the observatory on the FemaleCollege, where they had a lovely sunsetview of the town, the prairie, and the distantwoods. How cool and refreshingwere those prairie breezes after the intenseheat of the day; but they were warnedby the fading light that it was time to return.No mountains or hills to prolongthe twilight in these regions. The sunsinks, and speedily the darkness comes on.Miss Allen, Aunt Clara’s friend, insistedupon their coming in to see her. Withkindly hospitality she had sent for severalof Aunt Clara’s friends to meet her; andwhile Norman was amused with some fireworks185in the court-yard, they were refreshedwith cake and ice-cream. MissAllen, her brothers, and Mrs. Lester hadvery pleasant conversation about somemutual friends, and thus passed the eveningto an hour rather late for travelers whowere to rise at two o’clock in the morning.

At that early hour they were aroused,and the omnibus conveyed them to thestation at three o’clock, where they hadthe satisfaction of being told that the carshad stopped above the junction, cause unknown.Probably they had run off thetrack, and they might not arrive beforeeight o’clock.

“There is the locomotive that is to takeus,” said a gentleman, pointing to the expectantiron horse, panting and snorting,and rushing to and fro, as if impatient atthe delay. “I saw him in the bank on Saturday,just below here. But he has sufferedno harm from running off the track.”

“Near them stood an engineer with his186arm in a sling. He had been returningto his post, as he had been off duty, whenhe threw himself forward to rescue a manwho, having missed his footing on the step,would have been under the wheel of thecar. As it was, his struggles loosenedthe footing of his deliverer, who succeededin dragging him on the truck, from whichprecarious position they were rescued assoon as the train could be stopped. Theengineer’s arm was badly broken, butthe man whose life he had saved nevercame to thank him. “I have no moneyto give him, why should I go?” said he tothe conductor, who told him to thank theman who had periled life and limb tosave him.”

“Men do not risk their lives formoney,” replied the conductor, turningaway from the ungrateful man.

“The prospect looks rather dim,” saidAunt Clara, the first discouraging wordshe had spoken.

187“How calm and quiet she was,” saidNorman, “when we were so frightenedin the rail car.”

The waiting-room of the station-housewas not very comfortable for weary passengers;Norman established himself onthree chairs, and was soon fast asleep onhis hard bed; nor was he wakened whenhis mother slipped her carpet-bag underhis head.

A group near the door was more picturesque.It was a German family whomthey had seen the day before at the cars,and who had passed all night at thestation. One little girl lay across a bag,her head tending toward the floor. Theyounger brother was on his knees, restinghis head on a chair, fast asleep;while near them, her head erect, as ifwatching over her goods and chattels, satthe elder sister, a quaint, prim-lookinggirl of thirteen, with a short waist, and alittle shawl pinned round it, and a broad188flat over her braids of light hair; whileround her were bags, and boxes, andbundles, an incongruous heap, in whichit was at first somewhat difficult to distinguishthe sleeping children. The littleboy at length, weary of his constrainedposition on his knees, had pillowed hishead on his sleeping sister’s foot, which,by sundry twitches, and a few energetickicks, freed itself from the encumberingweight. But still the childrenslept on. The mother was sittingoutside of the door, silent, because noneknew her language. At length a telegramannounced that the cars would bethere at five. The locomotive had beenstopped because the rails were slippery.

The early twilight brightened into day,the train arrived, the passengers steppedin, and a very short time brought Norman,his mother and aunt to their point ofdestination; a few houses had been droppeddown on the prairie, as the nucleus189of a town; not very promising as a resting-place.Soon, however, a buggy anda wagon drove up for the travelers, who,after a short drive, were welcomed bytheir relatives.

It looked quite homelike; the houseshaded by tall trees, the garden, thehedge of Osage orange shutting out thewide expanse of prairie. The house wasin the corner of Tazewell county; thebarn in McLean, and the greater partof the farm in a third county. Normanfound two new aunts to know and love,and a tall cousin of six feet three.

It was not long before he became acquaintedwith two little girls of ten and191twelve, cousins, who lived on a farm near,with whom he had many pleasant hoursof play. They had, too, a great deal totalk over of their journings in the West,for these little girls had always beforelived in a New England home. Theyhad seen a great many Indians, paintedin all their bravery, in Wisconsin. Theyhad seen a squaw, with her papoose strappedon her back, riding on a small Indianpony, with a child before and a childbehind.

“This, mother,” said Norman, “is pleasanterthan all; one day on a prairie isworth ten days in town.” He was upearly in the morning to see the horseswatered before they were sent off to thefield. There were more then twenty ofthem, and Norman’s cousin, Justin, selectedthe handsomest colt on the farm, andgave it to Norman for his own. Normanwas enchanted. He took an ear of corn,and Prince followed him about, eating it192from his hand. Even after Prince hadgone down into the field, he followedNorman and the ear of corn home.

“Mother, look at my colt,” said Normanin triumph; “how am I to get himhome?” There were various plans discussed,as the one idea took possession ofhis mind, but no satisfactory conclusionswere arrived at. The glow of delightsomewhat faded away. “I really do notknow what good my colt is going to dome,” said Norman, despondingly; “Icannot ride him here, and I cannot takehim home.”

His face brightened, however, whenDavid brought up a horse for him to ride.He had never rode before but once, whenthe pony threw him over his head; buthe said this was the sort of riding hewould like, to charge over the prairies.

He did ride off several miles over theprairies by himself, and then he rode fourmiles with his Aunt Clara.

193It was the time of harvest, and Normanloved to watch the mowing machineas it so rapidly cut down the tall grass,and the hay-making, and the tossing itinto the great hay-stack. But what mostinterested him was to watch the progressof the great header, with its three attendantwagons, as it loomed up so grandlyin the harvest field. Three horses urgedonward the machine, which cut off theheads of the wheat and threw it on aplatform, whence it was taken up in anelevator and received into a wagon, whichaccompanied the gigantic machine till itwas loaded, and then, giving place toanother, drove to the great stack with itsburden. This machine requires three attendantwagons and six men, who thuscut down as much wheat as fifteen mencan do in the ordinary way, and stackit to boot. These mowing and reapingmachines seem especially intended forthe extensive level grain fields of Illinois,194which would look in vain for reapers andmowers with the old sickle and scythe.Something is lost however in picturesqueeffect, as was most manifest in the fieldnext to that which the great header wasso rapidly despoiling of its riches. Thisfield was dotted over with the gracefulsheaves of wheat, while a number of menwere engaged in the work of bindingand stacking them together.

Norman had watched too the ploughman,who, with a cultivator passing betweenthe shining corn, did the workmore laboriously done at the East byhoeing.

He liked to watch the herds of cattleand sheep feeding on the prairies; greatherds, for everything was on a great scaleon these western farms.

But better even than this were the storieshis cousin Justin told him about hisboyish days. He was twenty-three yearsold, and he had lived on the prairie sixteen195years. It used to be the custom, hesaid, to plant a flagstaff in some centralposition, and invite horsem*n to leave thegroves all around and ride to this pointat a certain hour. As the hour approachedhorsem*n would be seen issuingfrom all the groves, riding rapidlyonward, driving before them wolves,and the timid deer, till a dense ring ofthree or four hundred horsem*n inclosingthe frightened animals who were thendispatched by the clubs with which themen were armed. Sometimes the desperatewolves broke through the ringwhere it was weakest, and then there waswaving of hats, and cheering, and gallopingafter the animals, and all was wilduproar. “I can remember” said he “thecharm these wolf-hunts had for me whenI was a boy of twelve; how I armed myselfwith my club, mounted my spiritedhorse, and galloped off to the stirringscene.”

196“My cousin Walter,” continued Justin,“liked to hunt the wolf alone. One dayhe encountered a prairie wolf, whom hepursued till the wolf plunged into thestream to escape him. Seizing him bythe tail, he cut the strings of his hindlegs, during which operation the wolf bithis foot, leaving the mark of his longteeth through his boot. The disabledwolf, however, as it emerged from thewater, made but slow progress, and Walter,disengaging his stirrups, gave him ablow in the forehead which killed him,and stripping off his skin, he returnedhome with his trophy, afterward to dogood service in the form of a muff for hissister.”

Then he told of the prairie fires thatcame every year. To be prepared for theapproach of this fiery invader theyploughed several furrows near the fenceof their farm, and then several furrows atthe distance of about four rods, and to the197grass on that interval they set fire, thatthis bared strip might oppose a barrier tothe flames. Onward they would comewhen the wind was from the same quarter,with the speed of a locomotive,crackling, flashing, leaping high in theair, rolling great waves of lurid light onwardwith fierce rapidity. They wouldwatch the on-coming of this sheetedflame, terrible in its fiery glare, crimsoningthe heavens with its ruddy glow,consuming everything in its path, sendingup fiery messengers into the sky,and wonder whether it would be possiblefor them to escape. “It was a magnificentsight,” continued he; “never do Iexpect to see anything so terrible in itssublimity and beauty. Now that theprairies are covered over with the habitationsof men, we have no more prairiefires, and no more wolf hunts. No morefierce pursuer did the prairie wolf findthan this untiring adversary of flame,198driving before it the terrified wolves andthe gentle deer, flying for life till theyreached some timber where the firewould be arrested.”

Norman was very sorry when the daycame for him to leave. He was sorry toleave his aunts and cousins, to whom hehad become very much attached; he wassorry to leave his colt, and to give up hispleasant rides on horseback. The daythey were to leave they were to dine withanother aunt of Norman’s, and Norman,accompanied by David, rode there onhorseback, while his cousin Justin was todrive his mother in his buggy. She hadvery much enjoyed her daily drives overthe prairies, enamelled with flowers, ofevery new variety of which Justin stoppedto gather for her, and which sheprized as memorials of those pleasanthours.

At his aunt’s Norman saw the pictureof his Cousin Walter—the hero of the199wolf story—a face full of intelligence andsweetness, a slender form. He was abrilliant youth, with high hopes and aspirations,when, in the midst of his collegiatecourse, he was stricken down bycholera, and in a few days was numberedwith the dead.

After dinner Norman mounted hishorse, and, attended by David, who rodebeautifully, he took his way toward thestation. His mother and his cousin startedabout half an hour afterward, and pursuedtheir winding way. The road onthe prairies is continually changing; asthe new farms are fenced, the owners divertthe road from their fields to the exteriorof their farms. One memorableplace Mrs. Lester had passed on her driveto the village the evening before. It wasa slough where, in the spring, a pair ofhorses were so completely buried that itwas necessary to employ oxen to dragthem out by the head. One field, on their200way to the station, looked as if it werecovered with pansies, the rather coarseflowers with which it was filled beingsoftened by distance into this likeness.

They drove across a grassy field thatlooked as if it must at some time havebeen the bed of a great river, so strikinglydid the woodlands resemble the banks.Indeed, one is often struck, in looking outupon the prairies, with the resemblanceto a sea view. At the margin there willfrequently be a mist, such as bounds theview on the water; the groves of timberjut out into the prairie like headlands,and the eye often follows these indentationsas if tracing the shore of a vast lake.Proofs are not wanting to establish the factthat Illinois was once the bed of a greatlake, probably an expansion of the Mississippi,till it broke though on its headlongcourse to the Gulf of Mexico. The prairiebreezes come every day to moderate theintense heat of summer, and sweep over201these vast plains as on the bosom of agreat inland sea. Those who build in thetimber lose these refreshing winds.

Mrs. Lester was somewhat troubled onarriving at the station to find that Normanwas not there, though he had left solong before her, and she looked ratheranxiously over the prairie for some signs ofhis coming. The boys were not visible, andshe was contemplating the prospect of returningto the kind friends whom she hadleft when they came in sight. She wavedher handkerchief to them to hasten, as thetrain was due in five minutes. Just intime; the train was in sight as Normanstepped on the platform; and as Justinaccompanied them into the cars to findthem seats, Mrs. Lester hurried him off,lest he should be taken on, so short wasthe pause at the station.

The ride was very agreeable: boundlessviews of rolling prairie, that lookedlike English park scenery; scattered groves,pretty farm houses, thriving villages, affordeda constant succession of agreeableobjects. Far to the west was seen athreatening cloud, at length descending intorrents of rain to the westward, whilethe sudden, violent wind that swept acrossthe track of the cars was succeeded bydashes of rain. A curious optical illusionwas produced by the sun shiningfrom behind a dark cloud, and throwing203lines of light across the prairie, producingthe effect of a fort, and of long rows ofwhite buildings. The sun was setting behindclouds of crimson and gold when thetrain arrived at Joliet, and stopped twentyminutes for refreshments.

Joliet, named in honor of the citizen ofQuebec who first trod the soil of Iowa,is a handsome town, ornamented withnumerous spires. Here are fine quarriesof the beautiful cream-colored stone usedso much in Chicago, and transportedthither by a canal running over the lowwet prairies parallel with the railroad.

While waiting till the train from Chicagoshould pass them, Norman had afine view of some splendid rockets inhonor of the arrival of a noted politicianin the city.

At the station they found their kindfriend, Mr. Percy, and he drove them tohis house very rapidly. Late as it was,Mrs. Percy and Miss Ray were at the204door to welcome them, and, after a fewwords of greeting, to show them to theirrooms.

The next morning Norman went fishingwith Charley Percy, and while hewas gone his Uncle and Aunt Lestercame in Mrs. Hunter’s carriage to takethem for a drive. Mrs. Hunter took them toher house, where they had iced lemonade;and Mrs. Lester returned, promising totake tea and stay all night with Mr. andMrs. Lester at her brother’s, where theywere staying. This brother was a minister,and his home had an atmosphere oftaste and refinement and piety. Choicebooks, in every room, invited perusal;illustrated works attracted the eye; acanary warbled its sweet notes, especiallywhen the piano was touched; and themistress of the house sang the songs herhusband had written. Most pleasantlydid every object harmonize with the reposeof the Sabbath. The new Methodist205church edifice was in the next street,and the services were held for the lasttime in the lecture-room, as on nextThursday the church was to be dedicatedto the worship of God. At the love-feastin the afternoon there was an earnest expressionof gratitude to God for theabundant mercies he had showered uponthem during the past winter, and for theprosperity that had attended their effortsto erect a house to his service.

Mrs. Percy sent the carriage for themin the afternoon, and they found the familyassembled in the parlor, singingsacred songs. Each one had the musicof the hymns, and the hour before teathus passed most pleasantly. In the eveningNorman and his mother went withMr. and Mrs. Percy to church, and heardan excellent sermon from Dr. Rice, onthe breast-plate of faith and love, and thehelmet, the hope of salvation. “Howmuch reason have we for thankfulness,”206said Mrs. Lester to Norman in the evening,“that everywhere we have foundChristian homes; everywhere familyprayer, and a love for God’s house andservice. How many such privilegeshave we enjoyed!”

The next morning Dr. Davis called toinvite them to pay him a visit; Normanwent with Albert Davis, and a few hoursafterward the doctor called in his carriagefor Mrs. Lester. Norman’s uncleand aunt were in the carriage, and whenthey arrived at the doctor’s countryplace, they found Norman lying on thegrass, contemplating Albert’s pony.

Norman found some very interestingbooks filled with large colored plates ofbirds, and plants, and Indians. He lookedat these portraits of the red men, taken byMr. Catlin, and read sketches of theirhistory with great interest

In the afternoon Dr. Davis drove themto see the pretty grounds of a gentleman207in the neighborhood, and to the LakeView House, where they drank someiced lemonade, and wandered on thebeach. It seemed very much like thesea-shore, the great waves rolling in anddashing against the sand, and, a little below,the hulk of a vessel blown ashoreand stranded in the recent storm. Suchproofs of the power of old Michigan,when its waves rise up in their might,may be seen all along its shores, unprovidedas they are with harbors for vesselsto take refuge in at the approach of thetempest.

Lake Superior, the mighty lake, fed bytwo hundred rivers and streams, plungingdown falls and rapids to mingle theirwaters with those of this inland ocean;with its stern rocky walls, and overhangingcrags; with its rich mines of copper,silver, and iron; with its abundant fisheriesof trout, pickerel, pike, carp, blackfish, and white fish; and with its grandpictured rocks, presenting columns, towers,arches, and ruins, and hollowed outinto vast caverns, echoing with tremendousroar to the dash of the waves. An excursion209proposed to this lake offered greatattractions, and Mrs. Lester was temptedto go on the fine steamer that was to takea party thither.

Norman supplied himself with trolling-hookand fishing tackle, as the steamerwas to stop frequently to allow the passengersto fish in those cold, clear, transparentwaters. Charley Percy and hisfriend, Alfred Scarborough, somewhatolder than himself, were going in thesteamer to Collingwood, on their way toNiagara; so in the evening they went tothe boat, accompanied by Mr. and Mrs.Percy, and Alfred’s father and mother.The saloon was gayly lighted up, the bandplaying; the state-rooms were very comfortable,and the beginning of the voyageat least was very promising.

Good-by was said to their kind friends,and the steamer moved slowly down theriver, past the warehouses, and throughthe bridges, in the darkness, amid the210gleaming lights here and there, and tothe sound of music, and it all seemedvery dream-like. At length they reachedthe lake, and the regular lines of light onMichigan Avenue sparkled as they sailedaway. It was very late, near eleveno’clock, and the travelers soon sought therepose of their berths. Mrs. Lester onlywakened in the morning in time to seethe graceful spires of Racine, sleepingin the early morning light.

About ten o’clock they sailed into theharbor of Milwaukee, built on both sidesof the Milwaukee River, on a high bluffoverlooking the lake. Most of the townis built of the Milwaukee brick, which isof a light straw-color; and though thisbrick is a very fine building material, yetit harmonizes too much with the color ofthe sandy streets and sandy bluff to givea fine effect to the town. A strongercontrast would be better. There are somevery fine buildings; a hotel of beautiful211and elaborate design, and a custom-houseof fine architecture, built of white stone.

Until one o’clock “The Planet” remainedat Milwaukee, awaiting the arrivalof a party who wished to go on theexcursion, and who had telegraphed themfrom Chicago, and this delay enabled thepassengers to ride and walk about thetown.

A sad sight met the eyes of those whor*mained on the boat. The steamboatTraveler was just passing them, on itsway out of the harbor, when the mate,who had given some orders not followedto his satisfaction, let himself down fromthe upper deck, by catching hold of themiddle rail of the balustrade. The railbroke, and the man was thrown into thewater, probably receiving some mortalblow on the way, as he never rose. Trulythere is but a step between us and death.In that calm water, on that still, sunnyday, the hardy seaman who had braved212death in the darkness and tempest, founda grave.

It was very warm, and all were gladwhen the steamer was once more in motion,and the fresh breezes of the lakecame with their cooling for heated brows.It was rather too fresh after a while, andthere was more motion than was consistentwith the enjoyment of some of thepassengers. There was a shower, too,dimpling the lake, and driving most of thepeople into the saloon.

Norman had his first experience of seasickness,and retiring to his berth at fiveo’clock, he slept there till the morning.His mother was very sorry to have himmiss that magnificent sunset on LakeMichigan. The rain had passed away,and a light breeze crisped the waters.The boat had made its last landing, andthe little town they were leaving was glorifiedby its back ground of amber, deepeninginto a brilliant orange. Every house213and tree came out with marvelous distinctness,as the sun dipped behind thewestern horizon, and painted, after he hadpassed from view, a gorgeous picture ashis parting gift—a gift not to be lost withthe fleeting hour, or to be confoundedwith other gifts from the same source.It was marvelous in its beauty. Cloudsof rich crimson, fading into brown, werefestooned on the serene radiance of theclear sky. A wealth of celestial draperyseemed drawn aside to reveal the far-offglory. As these kindling hues fadedaway, a cloud nearer the horizon assumedthe aspect of a woodland scene recedingfrom the shore of the lake. There werethe headlands jutting into the water, thenodding groves, the bays running intothe land. It was difficult to make allthis extensive country only cloud-land,and the little company at the stern of theboat gazed upon it till the gatheringdarkness hid it from view.

214It was a night of glorious shows; aboutten o’clock the northern lights threw uptheir quivering brilliant scintillations farup into the heavens, glorifying the northwith a bow of flickering beauty, even asthe west had been glorified with massesof magnificent clouds. The lake, however,was almost too rough to allow manyspectators to enjoy this glimpse of northernsplendors, and most of the passengerssought the safe security of their berths.

Early in the morning Norman wascalled by his mother to come out on deckand see the Manitou Islands, with theirsandy bluffs and crown of green trees.Norman looked at them a long time insilence by himself. When he came to hismother he said: “I feel almost as if Ihad been looking at the Holy Land;those islands were the holy land tothe Indians, the dwelling-place of theGreat Spirit, not to be approached bymortals.”

215“It made me very fanciful to look atthem,” continued Norman. “The greatcloud of smoke that our steamer is sendingtoward the island, and that now hoversover it, seemed to me an oblation tothe great Manitou of the Indians.”

There was a visitor from those islands;a pretty little bird that lighted on theropes, and jumped about the deck tillfrightened away.

They passed Beaver Island, once inhabitedby the Mormons, who, the captainsaid, seemed a very quiet, inoffensivepeople when they lived there. He saidthey had been very kind in assisting himonce when he ran ashore near theirisland.

After breakfast Norman, his mother,and Alfred Scarborough went to the hurricanedeck. Soon a gentleman cameup, and walked vigorously up and down,giving at each turn some good advice toNorman. He was an English clergyman,216hale and fresh complexioned, with abright eye, and firm, quick step, thoughhe was seventy years of age. “I havecome out,” he said, “to get some freshair before breakfast. There are not manyyoung men that can run up a mountainlike me. Many young men only smoke,and sleep, and eat; they never think oftaking vigorous exercise. They willnever be able to walk as I do at myage.

“Walk, my boy,” said he, putting hishand on Norman’s shoulder “run, leap,and you will grow strong. Those are theFox Islands, are they? Well, I must godown to my breakfast, they will not makemuch on me; I can eat a pound morethan I could have when I came up.”And thus ending his walk and sentencestogether, he went down stairs.

It was a lovely morning; the coolbreeze was exhilarating, and the morningpassed quickly away as they glided217through the straits that connect LakeMichigan and Lake Huron; the straits solong known under the formidable nameof the Straits of Michilimackinac, nowabridged to Mackinaw.

Just after dinner they reached Mackinaw,where a number of the excursionistswere to remain until the boat returnedfrom Collingwood. The captain said theywould remain at Mackinaw time enoughto visit the fort.

Ready at the gangway as the boattouched the shore, Mrs. Lester, Norman,with a number of others, rushed on shore,scarcely pausing to look through the clear,transparent water at the white pebblesof the beach. Up the hill to the fort, thesun shining down on them with fervent219heat, while his rays were reflected fromthe white walls. It was, however, a short,direct road, and the lovely view fully repaidthem for the momentary heat. Apeaceful scene lay beneath them; thequiet little village of Mackinaw, with itshumble dwellings; the beach, sweepinground in the form of a crescent, and theplacid waters of Lake Huron beyond,made a pretty picture; the sentinelwalking to and fro on his post; the heavypieces of artillery, and piles of shot andshell. Soldiers, grouped here and there,greatly interested Norman. The descentwas very steep, and Norman inone minute found himself at the foot ofthe walled-in road which they had ascended.On arriving at the boat theyfound the men engaged in putting onshore sheep and cattle for the support ofthe soldiers, whose provision is thusbrought to them. Taking advantage ofthe delay, Norman rushed on shore to buy220some birch bark boxes, filled with maplesugar, and embroidered in porcupinequills. As he showed them to his motheron his return, she ventured up the streetto buy some Indian work, emboldened bythe sight of the captain walking beforeher.

A group of Indian women, in theirown dress, with blue cloth blankets andleggings, attracted their attention as theyentered the shop. They were Ottawas,and one of them had a face of greatbeauty. It was oval: her features werefine, and there was a pensive expression,a look of sadness on her face, that madeher very interesting. Mrs. Lester wantedto look at that face of sorrowful meaning,and learn something of her history; butthe sight of the captain, on his return tothe boat, hastened her movements, andhastily selecting some fans and boxes ofmaple sugar, with an embroidered canoeof birch bark, she hurried away.

221Nine more sheep to land; there wouldhave been a few moments to spare for alonger perusal of the face of that Ottawamaiden, but it was safe to come whenthey did, and not run the risk of beingleft. And so they were once more inmotion, with hastily gathered memoriesof Mackinaw, its town and fort.

“Norman,” said Mrs. Lester, “did youever hear of a famous game of ball atMackinaw?”

“No, mother; please tell me about it.”

“It was in June. A number of Indianshad arrived near the fort, apparently totrade, and a day was appointed for a gameof ball, of which they are very fond.Stakes were planted, and the game, inplaying which the great object is to keepthe ball beyond the adversary’s goal, began.The Indians uttered loud cries inthe wild excitement of the game, and thecommandant of the fort and his lieutenantstood outside of the gate to watch222them. The ball was tossed nearer andnearer the fort, and the excited crowd ofIndians ran and leaped after it, when suddenlythey rushed upon the two officers atthe gate, and imprisoned them. At oncethey joined some Indians who had comeinto the fort under pretense of trading, andimprisoned the whole garrison, seventeenof whom they put to death.

“This was the beginning of Pontiac’swar.”

“I never heard of this game of ball,”said Norman; “but I can tell as good astory of a pair of moccasins. May I?”

“Certainly,” said his mother. “I wouldlike to hear it.”

“Well, mother, I believe this was atthe beginning of Pontiac’s war too. AnIndian woman had made some moccasinsfor Major Gladstone, who commanded thefort at Detroit. They were made of acurious elk-skin that he valued very much.He paid her for them, and gave her the223rest of the skin, asking her to make anotherpair for a friend of his. The squaw seemedunwilling to go home, and the major sentfor her, and asked her what she was waitingfor. She said she did not like to takethe elk-skin that he thought so much of,as she could not make another pair ofmoccasins. He asked her why she couldnot make them. At first she would nottell; but then she said he had been verygood to her, and she would tell him thesecret, that she might save his life.

“The Indians, who had asked permissionto visit the fort the next day, that theymight present the calumet to MajorGladstone, were coming with their gunscut off, that they might hide them undertheir blankets; then, when Pontiac presentedthe calumet in some peculiar way, theywere to fire upon the officers.

“The soldiers were stationed outside ofthe room where the council was to beheld; the officers were armed, and when224Pontiac was about to present the calumet,the officers partially drew their swordsfrom their scabbards, and the clank of thesoldiers’ arms was heard outside. Pontiacturned pale, and presented the calumetwithout the preconcerted signal.

“Major Gladstone then stepped up to oneof the Indians, pulled aside his blanket,and revealed the gun cut short, just as thesquaw had said. He accused Pontiacof treachery, but said that as he had promisedthem a safe audience, they mightgo out of the town unharmed.”

“Perhaps if he had kept them prisoners,”said Mrs. Lester, “he might have preventedthe war that ensued.”

How beautiful the island looked in itscommanding position! The high land inthe center, with its lofty forests rising likea curve. How much they would haveenjoyed the day that had been promisedthem at Mackinaw to visit the old fort onits central heights, the arched rock, and225the wild solitudes of this picturesqueregion. The bold rock known as theLover’s Leap stood out finely from thegreenwood behind, and Norman listenedto its story told him by Mr. Bard. AnIndian maiden, who had refused to marrya brave who loved her very much, wasone day seated on this lofty rock, lookingout on the grand view beneath her, whenshe heard a stealthy step, and her rejectedlover stood by her side. The hour, thescene were propitious to his suit, and againit was urged with all the warmth of earnestaffection. The maiden listened, hesitated,and at length told him that if hewould leap off that cliff she would marryhim. The Indian raised his tall form toits utmost height, looked at the sea, thesky, and then at the beautiful face forwhich he periled the sight of both, andleaped from the giddy verge. Strange tosay, without loss of life or limb, with theagility and skill of a well-trained Indian,226he took the fearful leap, which was brokenby the branches of trees and shrubberybeneath. And thus he won his Indianbride.

Mr. Bard, who had come to the countrywhen there were but two houses in Chicagoout of the fort, had been familiar withit when the Indian tribes roved at willover the vast prairies of Illinois. Hespoke four of their languages, and couldsing their songs. He had been twice castaway on the shores of Lake Michigan, andhe could tell many a tale of wild adventure.More wonderful than any fairy talewas the aspect of the cultivated farms,the neat farm-houses, the numerous villagesand towns, with their spires pointingskyward, the great city that had all grownup in a few years beneath his eye. Andthose red men, with whom he had beenso familiarly associated, where had theygone? How rapidly those western regionsare losing the element of the picturesque227that the Indian with his bark canoe andhis wigwam give to their lakes and rivers,with their wooded shores.

He told Norman of a most curiousscene he had once witnessed. An Indianhad a very handsome pony, which anotherIndian was anxious to purchase, but whichhe resolutely refused to sell. They wereboth drinking, when the owner of thepony, finding his stock of whisky exhausted,asked the other to give or sell him amouthful from his remaining bottle. Heat first declined, but, on being entreated,said that he would give him a mouthfulof whisky for the pony. The Indian atonce consented to give up his favoritehorse for the momentary gratification, andputting his lips to those which had recentlyimbibed the whisky, he received thestipulated mouthful.

It was a repetition, in these westernwilds, of the old Hebrew story, the sacrificeof a birthright by the hungry hunter228for the mess of pottage given him by theplain man dwelling in tents. Well, werethis the solitary repetition! but, alas! Esausare found in all our borders, giving up, forthe indulgence of present clamorous desires,an inheritance more glorious thanany to which the first-born of earth couldever lay claim.

The captain asked Norman if he hadseen the northern lights the eveningbefore. Norman said that he was asleep,and asked the captain if he frequently sawthem.

“O yes,” he replied, “they are verybrilliant in these high latitudes. The Indiansthink they are the dance of thedead. One evening I came on deck, andlooking up at that pole I saw a bird justresting on the gilt ball that surmounts it.I seemed to hear the soft flutter of herwings. I watched it for some time, andthen went in and called the engineer tolook at it. He too saw it, and when I229turned to look at the boat every line andpoint seemed luminous. He was showingit to some ladies, and pointing towardit a light blue flame streamed fromhis finger. Everything was highlycharged with electricity, which producedthe semblance of the bird on the flagstaffon the bow. I never saw anythinglike it.”

“How long did it last?” asked Norman.

“About two hours.”

Norman then asked him about LakeSuperior, and he told him of the wonderfulbeauty of the pictured rocks, of thecastles and temples jutting out of theirbold front, of their arched caverns; thatthose majestic rocks, three hundred feethigh, extend ten miles, and the Indianspassed them with awful reverence, thinkingthat they were the dwelling-place ofthe great Manitou.

The captain spoke of the sudden stormsso violent in this “Big Sea Water” in the230autumn, and showed Norman a very beautifulgold watch that had been presentedto him by the citizens of Superior City, inhonor of his courage, skill, and fidelitywhen his vessel was exposed to a severestorm, and he brought her safely throughthe snow, and ice, and tempest. On thecase was engraved a picture of the “LadyElgin,” and on the heavy gold chain, securedby an anchor to his buttonhole,were his initials, in massive goldletters.

The captain showed Norman the straitsthat led up into Lake Superior, and he regrettedhis mother had given up the excursionaround the lake. She concluded thatas they had been gone two months fromhome, it would not be well to set out onan excursion that would detain them tenor twelve days longer, and expose them,moreover, to traveling on the Sabbath.The home prospect looked so bright, however,that they did not regret very much231the loss of the sight of the prairies androcks, and all the desolate glories of thisgreat lake.

“Norman,” said his mother, “just thinkof the courage it must have required when,more than two hundred years ago, twoFrench missionaries sailed over theselonely lakes. They were seventeen daysin a light bark canoe. They sailed pastthe pretty islands we shall soon see inGeorgian Bay, and over the clear watersupon which we are now sailing, up theriver St. Mary, which the captain showedyou, which leads to Lake Superior, andthere, at the Sault St. Marie, they told theIndians about Jesus:

232A lady showed Norman a picture ofthe rapids at the Sault St. Marie, with anumber of Indians in their canoes; andthe captain said they would paddle theircanoes up the rapids, and then throwingtheir nets in the water as they camedown, would catch the fish going up thestream.

After tea they seated themselves in thestern of the vessel, and looked at her trackfar over the lake. The air was cool andexhilarating, and it was with devout gratitudeto God for the wonderful display ofhis mighty works, and for his abundantblessings, that some of the company gazedupon the serene glory of the sunsetting.It was not gorgeous, as was the sunset onLake Michigan, with clouds of purple andcrimson, but slowly, slowly the shiningorb dipped behind the waters. The eveningstar hung trembling in the sky, faintlyshining out from that region of pale gold;while the moon, high in the western233heavens, promised for many hours hersilvery light.

Norman brought out his trolling-hook,that he might have the pleasure of throwingit into Lake Huron, as he was deniedthat of fishing in Lake Superior. He letit out at the end of a long and strongfishing line, and amused himself watchingit bounce out of the water, and feeling thetwitches it gave his hand as the boatmoved rapidly onward. A lady, who satnear, was very much amused at the stoutresistance of the waves. At length Normandrew in his line, and lo! and beholdthe hook was gone. The action of thewaves had worn away the stout cord,made still stronger by being wound aroundwith thread.

“There,” said Norman, “I have lostthe hook which cost me twenty-five cents.”

“I think it has given us twenty-fivecents’ worth of pleasure,” said the lady,who had been watching the dancing line.

234“And you have the honor of havinglost your hook in the clear waters of LakeHuron,” added his mother. Norman wasmeanwhile tying to the end of his line thelittle board on which the line had beenwound, and he threw that in the waterin place of the hook. This was a morestirring pastime. The board offered somuch stronger resistance to the waves,that Norman had to wind the line severaltimes around his hand to retain his hold.At one moment the jerk was so violent,that the cord drew the boy toward thelow balustrade, over which he mighthave easily gone, but for the interposingarms of the lady and his mother, at oncethrown round him. There was a startamong the little company as they perceivedthe boy’s danger, and Mrs. Lestertold Norman he had now better draw inhis line.

A new entertainment succeeded. Normanhad been watching a sea-gull that235had been following directly in the trackof their vessel for many miles long beforesunset; those untiring wings of snowywhite had borne the graceful bird onward,and ever and anon she made a circlingsweep, and rested a while on the bosom ofthe water.

“Norman,” said Mrs. Bard, “you goto the pantry, and ask for some pieces ofbread, and throw them in the water, andyou will soon have a flock of sea-gullsfollowing you.”

Norman waited not a second bidding,and soon came back with some rolls andpieces of bread. He threw some in, andthe gull did not see them. He thenwaited till the bird came quite near thevessel, and threw it up toward her. Thenhe had the satisfaction of seeing the gullslowly circle round and round, till it pickedup the morsel of bread. In a few minutesanother gull came, and then another, andthen another, till six white birds, on rapid236wing, were hovering over the vessel’strack, and picking up the bread cast uponthe waters.

Norman’s delight knew no bounds. Itis pleasant to feed chickens in a barn-yard;but what is that compared to feedinggulls on Lake Huron, and seeing themwing their flight at your call through thetrackless solitudes of air. He was sorrywhen the darkness prevented the sea-gullsfrom seeing the pieces of bread, and they

The evening star soon set, and the moonwas left pale empress of the sky. Howglorious was the path of silvery light shethrew across the water. Sweet strains ofmusic sounded from the band, and theeye, following that radiant pathway, wouldsee in it now a silvery cascade, and nowa shining road to a niche, in which hungthe moon, the crescent lamp of night. Itwas a sweet conclusion to a day rich inenjoyment. Sea, sky, and air had broughttheir tribute; and the heart of man hadrejoiced, as the eye took in this wealthof beauty. What suitable expression thosefeelings found in the language of the nineteenthPsalm!

A bright band of light clearly definedthe eastern horizon, and heralded the approachof the sun. A steamer, making itsway along the shore, stood out with greatdistinctness in the clear atmosphere. Theywere in Georgian Bay, dotted with prettyislands, and near the southwestern shore,deeply indented and covered with timber.

“There are our friends, the sea-gulls,”exclaimed Norman. Yes, there theywere—

their white wings glancing in the sunlight.At length Collingwood was visible,241a stone light-house, on an island, passed,then another wooden light-house, andthey were in the harbor.

Norman saw two wigwams among thetrees, and a “dug-out” with four or fiveIndians in it.

The train had left twenty minutes beforethe smoke of the Planet was seen,and a telegram was sent to Toronto requestinga special train, which it wasthought would be granted. The passengerswere all seated in the cars, the locomotivehad its steam up, when a telegramcame to say that there could be no trainbefore four o’clock.

Collingwood is a collection of unpaintedhouses built in the sand, most drearyand uninviting in its aspect. Normanand his mother, and Alfred Scarborough,walked through its streets. The storesare shaded by evergreens, stuck in theground, to afford a temporary shade.They went into several stores, to buy some242Indian things, but there was no one in thestore to sell them, and after waitinga while they were obliged to leave. Atlength Mrs. Lester found some prettyboxes, worked with porcupine quills, andNorman bought an Indian battle-axe.

After wandering a while on the shores ofthe lake, looking down into its clear transparentwaters, and gathering some wildflowers, they returned to the boat, wherethey found the other passengers. Theview of the harbor of Collingwood wasvery pretty, the waters were blue andbeautiful, and the breezes cool andbracing.

Norman watched with great interest arace between a little sloop and schooner,round the light-house. The wind was sofresh that the vessels leaned very farover, and seemed in some danger of beingcapsized.

While the train was coming slowlyup from the pier to the station, where243the passengers awaited it, a gentleman,with a baby in his arms, was walking onthe track. The English clergyman rushedforward before it, waving his umbrellaand crying, “Off, man, off the track, orin one moment you will be crushed toatoms.”

Again they were seated in the cars.“What beautiful spikes of purple flowers,”exclaimed Mrs. Lester, “and close bythe station. I wish we had seen them.”

“And those brilliant red flowers,” saidNorman, “Did you ever see anythingprettier?”

“Do you think they are flowers or berries”asked his mother; “we go so fastthat I cannot tell which they are.”

At a station where they stopped, a gentlemangot out and gathered some ofthese red berries, handing them to Mrs.Lester through the window.

“Red elderberries,” said Mrs. Lester;“very pretty, but not the gorgeous flowers244we thought them; we cannot pressthese.”

The road lay through timber, and thestations were groups of unpainted housesin the clearings. Felled trees and blackenedstumps met the eye in every direction.

At a station near Lake Simcoe thetrain stopped for two or three minutes,and Norman and his mother rushed toan opening, where they had a lovely viewof the pretty sheet of water.

A longer view they had, though notso lovely, when the train went down on ashort railroad running to the lake, to takethe passengers who had made the circuit ofit in the little steamboat. The boat wasin sight, but some distance off, so that thepassengers seated themselves on the pier,or on the piles of boards that encumberedit. Logs and boards met the eye inevery direction, and an immense steamsaw-mill was at work, converting the245felled trees of the great forest throughwhich they had passed, into the boardswith which the settler builds his house.

“Where is Norman?” asked Mrs. Lesteranxiously of Mr. Campbell, a Scotchgentleman. “I do not see him anywhere.”The gentleman told her hewould look for him, and in a few minuteshe returned with the boy.

“Mother, I went up to that wood togather some of these beautiful purpleflowers for you, and for that young lady.She said she would like some of them,and I saw that the steamboat was so faroff that I had time.”

“You should have told me where youwere going, my child, and you wouldhave spared me some moments of anxiety.”

“I am sorry, mother, but I was in nodanger. I wanted to get some red berriesfor that young lady, but I could notfind any.”

246“You may have these,” replied hismother; “I do not want them;” and whileNorman went to give his berries andflowers to the young lady, with whom hehad had many pleasant talks on thePlanet, his mother pressed the prettyspikes of purple flowers in her guidebook.

The English clergyman stayed that hemight go around Lake Simcoe, of whichmost of the passengers thought they hadseen enough. It was dark when theyreached Toronto, and Norman did notsee much, roused as he was from a soundsleep, till he walked through the statelyhalls and parlors of the Rossin House,and into his comfortable room.

A bright, clear, cool Sabbath! Perfectpeace reigned in that city; not a sounddisturbed its quiet. All the storesclosed; no riding or driving; no groupsof idle people congregated anywhere;clean quiet streets only filled with peopleon their way to the house of God. Itwas a striking contrast to many of ourtowns in the States, where multitudes ofpeople are riding and driving, buyingand selling, crowding to the drinking saloons,and in many other ways desecratingGod’s holy day.

248Mrs. Lester told Norman that shewished him to learn that beautiful promisein the fifty-eighth chapter of Isaiah.

“If thou turn away thy foot from theSabbath, from doing thy pleasure on myholy day; and call the Sabbath a delight,the holy of the Lord, honorable; andshalt honor him, not doing thine ownways, nor finding thine own pleasure, norspeaking thine own words.

“Then shalt thou delight thyself in theLord; and I will cause thee to ride uponthe high places of the earth, and feed theewith the heritage of Jacob thy father:for the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it.”

“Mother,” said Norman, “people donot seem to mind traveling on Sunday.Every one was surprised that you hurriedfrom St. Paul, so as not to be on boardthe boat on Sunday.”

“I think, my dear child, that those whofear God will keep his commandments.And this commandment to keep holy the249Sabbath-day was spoken not only amidthe thunders of Sinai, but amid the blissfulsolitudes of Eden. Prophet afterprophet warned the Sabbath-breaker ofcoming woe, and promised blessings tothose who remembered the Sabbath tokeep it holy. Listen to the beautifulpromise God gives to those who keep hisSabbaths: ‘Even unto them will I givein my house, and within my walls, aplace and a name better than of sons anddaughters: I will give them an everlastingname, that shall not be cut off.’

“Just think of the things here promised,a home, a place in God’s house, aposition better than that even of sons anddaughters, and a name never to be forgotten.What a reward for the faithfuland joyful keeping of the Sabbath, initself a happiness. But, Norman, read theseventh verse of the same chapter, (Isaiahlvi,) and you will find more blessingspromised.”

250Norman found the place and read:

“Even them will I bring to my holymountain, and make them joyful in myhouse of prayer: their burnt-offerings andtheir sacrifices shall be accepted uponmine altar.”

In the morning Norman and his mother,accompanied by Mr. Campbell, went tothe cathedral. It is a large handsomenew church, and the grassy turf around it,shaded by fine trees, gave a very pleasantaspect to the entrance. As they stoodnear the door awaiting the pew-opener toshow them to seats, a lady in a largesquare pew in the corner invited them in.It was very warm; the pew was under thegallery and closely curtained, and thewords of the unseen minister, as he beganthe service, were inaudible. Mrs. Lesterwhispered to Mr. Campbell, “Had we notbetter go somewhere where we can seeand hear?”

With words of apology to the lady who251had kindly offered them seats, they leftthe pew, and were shown to another in thenave, the body of the church. It was anew thing for Norman to hear prayers forQueen Victoria and the Prince Consort,and all the royal family, instead of thePresident of the United States.

Another thing showed him that he wasin a foreign country. On the front of thegallery, just above him, were a gilt lionand unicorn, with a crown above them.The royal arms of England were in frontof the pew of Sir Edmund Head, theGovernor General of Canada. The sermonwas preached by the curate, a slenderyoung man, who was soon to go to Europefor his health. After the service the twoaids-de-camp of the Governor General, infull uniform, waited for him at the churchdoor, to attend him to his carriage. Hekeeps up a sort of court, as the representativeof royalty, and his salary is $35,000.

After dinner Mrs. Lester, with Norman,252went to see Dr. G., a Wesleyan minister,once a fellow passenger across theAtlantic. His house is very pleasantlysituated, overlooking the pretty groundsof the normal school, whose fine buildingsare an ornament to the city. Once, manyyears before, Mrs. Lester had taken teawith Mrs. G., and it was very pleasant torenew an acquaintance made under veryhappy auspices. The evening service inthe Wesleyan churches did not begin tillsix, and Mrs. G. asked Mrs. Lester to remainand go to the Adelaide church withthem. Mrs. Lester, however, found itnecessary to return to the hotel, and beforeshe went Dr. G. showed her, from thetop of the house, the numerous churcheswhose spires adorn the fair city of Toronto.

They had a pleasant walk to their hotel,at the far end of the town; on their waythey passed several handsome churches,one situated in a sort of court, the streetterminating at the church. It was a253pleasant evening service at the Richmond-streetchurch: a very large congregation,hearty singing, and a good earnestsermon.

On passing the pretty Congregationalchurch on the corner of Adelaide andBay streets, they walked in and foundthat the minister had just begun his sermonon, “At midnight there was a cryheard, Behold the Bridegroom cometh:go ye out to meet him.” The minister,with a strong Scotch accent was saying, asthey entered, “Who of you would be willingto fix a time when you would beready to hear that cry?” He spoke of thestillness and solemnity of the hour—midnightsilence and darkness, when theslightest sound startles one; when the wind,or the rustling of a branch against thewindow, often terrifies one when sittingalone or suddenly awakened from sleep.What then will it be to hear the piercingtones of that trumpet that will rouse theuniverse?

254And then he said that that night mightthe cry sound to one who was listening tohim, that suddenly, in the still watches ofthe night, that soul might be called tomeet the Bridegroom. The morningwould come; the family assembled atbreakfast would miss the absent one, andon going to his room they would find onlyhis lifeless remains; he would never meetwith them again on earth.

Ontario was sleeping in the sunshinewhen they crossed it on Monday morning.

“Is this an English or American fort?”asked Norman, as he looked at the massivewalls of Fort Niagara at the mouthof the river. “It is an American fort,”said a young English officer, who stoodnear, “but we will come down and takeit soon.”

“Not so easily as you think,” repliedNorman.

“Yes we will,” said the Lieutenant;“we will come down and take it, andkeep it too.”

256“I don’t believe you will,” said Norman.

“We took it once,” rejoined the officer,“in the last war.”

“But you did not keep it,” Normanreplied.

As Norman was going off the boat theEnglishman said: “We will soon comeand annex the United States.”

From the boat to the cars, for the shortride to Clifton Station, there is a superbview of the Queenstown Heights, andBrock’s monument rising proudly on itsgrand pedestal.

The window of Mrs. Lester’s room, atthe Clifton House, commanded a fineview of the falls, so that they could beenjoyed even in the moments of rest anddressing.

It was a lovely day, and the walk toTable Rock is probably the most magnificentin the world, commanding as it does,through its entire length, a noble view ofboth falls. The sunlight on the white257foaming water made it almost painful forthe eyes to look upon.

They sat on Table Rock and lookeddown upon the dazzling beauty of thosefalling waters so quaintly described bythe French missionary, Father Hennepin,who saw them in 1678. “A vast andprodigious cadence of water, which fallsdown after a surprising and astonishingmanner, insomuch that the universe doesnot afford its parallel.”

They had a more extensive view of therapids, in connection with the falls, fromthe observatory of the house near TableRock. Then they went to the Pagoda,and after ascending several flights ofstairs, entered a small room containing around table covered with white muslin.Norman wondered why they had come,when the old man closed the window,and on this white table was thrown a picturethat the greatest painter of earthcannot equal.

258Soft and beautiful, a moving picturefirst of the American falls, then of thebrown crags of Goat Island, and the softfoliage of its forests, then of the Horse-ShoeFall, with its brown stone tower.And while they were looking at this thelittle steamer Maid of the Mist, was seenmaking its way through the foam andspray to the foot of that mighty cataract,and then turning for its returnvoyage.

“What a beautiful picture!” cried Norman,laughing aloud with delight; “whatwould not the Queen of England give forsuch a table in her drawing room?”

“No table of mosaic or enamel canever equal the soft tints of that lovelypicture,” replied his mother.

“O look there! look there!” cried Norman,as Table Rock and the road leadingto it appeared on the wonderful table.“See those ladies with their parasolsseated on the rock, and that little girl259with her brown straw flat, and that carriagefilled with gentlemen driving upthere; and look at these ladies walkingaway; how little do they know that theirportraits are painted on this table?

“In old times, mother,” continued Norman,“people would have thought this amagic table, but because we know thatit is a camera obscura we do not thinkit so wonderful.”

“There is the Clifton House,” said theman, “and see that bit of foreground,masses of foliage.”

“Norman, we must leave this enchantedpicture, for it will soon be time for usto go back to dinner.”

One more view from Table Rock, morebeautiful than ever, crowned as it waswith a brilliant rainbow spanning theBritish and American Falls, a type ofthe bow of peace which should unitethe nations.

Once more the Maid of the Mist was260seen urging her way close beneath theAmerican Falls. The figures on her deck,in their waterproof dresses, looked weirdand unearthly as they stood looking up tothat mass of descending waters, and envelopedin the clouds of spray. On theirway home Mrs. Lester stopped to purchasesome curious fossils from a manwho had his stand under some trees, andshe sat awhile on a chair he placed forher on the grass, looking at the view,which is exceedingly fine from this point,commanding the fearful chasm and therugged rocks on the Canada side.

The same walk in the afternoon, whenthey descended the stone steps leadingto the path under Table Rock: down,down by the side of those stupendouscliffs, towering upward in their might,the water trickling along the crevices, tillthey stood beneath the overhanging TableRock and looked upward at that massof falling waters.

261“This I like better than all,” said Norman;“how much I would like to go behindthe sheet of water.”

“No, indeed,” replied his mother, “Ido not mean that you shall go there. Butis not this grand!”

A few minutes only and they retracedtheir steps, gathering some blue hare-bellsgrowing out of the crevices of these rudecliffs.

Slowly, slowly the shadow of the hillscrept up the falls, vailing their dazzlingbeauty, and obscuring their radiant bows.The sunset came too soon to close thatday of exceeding beauty; but then themoon faintly lighted up the splendors ofthe scene, kindling the rapids above thefalls, and making a path of light in theprofound depths below. A little way inthe moonlight, down the road to the ferry,to gaze on the wonders of that fearfulchasm, softened rather than heightened bythat silvery light.

262No lunar bow to be seen till late in thenight from the Canada side. Those wholooked that night from Goat Island andthe Tower saw it in great beauty.

Then tell me, what have you brought home? If butan olive leaf, let us have it; come, unpack your budget.

Up at four o’clock; the Falls yet unvisitedby the sun’s early beams. Thebirds were singing their merriest song, asNorman and his mother, after an earlybreakfast, got into the carriage, and rodealong that wonderful river to the SuspensionBridge. A wondering glance at thefearful depths below, as the water rolledon beneath, mighty in its seeming stillness,a last lingering look at the Falls asthey crossed the Suspension Bridge, andthey were at the station.

In the cars of the Central Railroad;how rapidly they were borne onward!how hot and dusty it soon became! Lockport,264with its wild scenery, its commandingviews, and its splendid locks on thecanal, letting down its waters from a greatheight, interested Norman more thananything he saw. Then the salt lakes,near Syracuse, and the great salt worksthere!

But Norman was in no mood for enjoyment.The water, of which he drank sofreely at Niagara, had disagreed withhim, and he suffered a good deal of pain.

“Mother, please do not go to TrentonFalls.”

“O Norman, you would enjoy seeingthem very much; they are so verybeautiful!”

“I would not enjoy them at all now;but do not let me keep you from going.”

Mrs. Lester hesitated. She was mostanxious to visit that spot, so perfectlysatisfying in its wild beauty; but it wouldbe a great drawback to enjoy it alone, andshe concluded to defer it till some more265auspicious moment. She little thoughtof the tragedy that would have saddenedher visit!

That afternoon a boy of fourteen fellfrom one of the rocky ledges, and was atonce swallowed up in those engulfingwaters. His brother, who was with him,missed him, and saw his hat floating inthe rapid stream. They had been broughtthere, with their mother, to spend a fewweeks, by their father, who had returnedto his business in town.

And so, at Utica, instead of going toTrenton, as she anticipated, Mrs. Lesterresumed her place in the cars, and lookedthat afternoon upon the lovely MohawkValley, as it was unrolled before herview.

At East Albany Norman was lookingout of the cars at the up-train, which hadjust arrived, and at a little boy runningunder the cars, in front of those greatwheels that would crush him to atoms if266the train moved while he was in his perilousposition, when Mrs. Lester exclaimed,“Why, there’s your Aunt Augusta andAunt Helen!” Glances of recognition,mute gestures, but no words possible, asthe train was just starting.

“They are going to Trenton and Niagara,”said Mrs. Lester. “If we had goneto Trenton we would have met themthere. There is your Uncle Charles wavinggood-by from the platform.”

“And there were Bessie and Edith,”said Norman, mournfully.

“I think not,” replied Mrs. Lester. “Idid not see them.”

“But I am sure I saw them,” said Norman;“and that will take away half mypleasure in getting home. I was lookingforward to telling them about all what Ihad seen.”

At the depôt Mrs. Lester was kindlygreeted by Mrs. Eiledon, who insistedupon sending her home in her carriage.267After leaving Mrs. Eiledon at Ellesmere,they drove on to the Glen. How beautifuleverything looked in this region ofvalleys and hills! How glorious was thesunset behind those grand, blue mountains!How refreshing the soft eveningbreezes, after the heat and dust of thecars!

Home again. Norman’s heart leapedup within him.

“How surprised they will be! Mother,put your vail down, and they will thinkit is Mrs. —— come to pay a visit.”

As they drove through the wood, andcame in sight of the cottage, Normansprang to his feet, and waving his hatround and round, shouted a loud hurra.Even then the party on the veranda didnot recognize the returning travelers inthe gathering twilight. They fanciedthem on the distant waters of Lake Superior,and were greatly astonished to seetheir familiar faces, as they sprung out of268the carriage. There was a loud and prolongedshout of welcome, and cordialembraces from mother, and sisters, andaunts, and cousins. Yes, Norman’s littlecousins, Bessie and Edith, were there, inspite of the vision he had had of them inthe up-train, and their voices were loudand merry all the evening.

It was with deep gratitude to God thatNorman and his mother retired to restthat evening. They were thankful thathis kind providence had watched overthem in their journey of more than threethousand miles, and had brought themhome again, to find those whom they lovedwell and happy.