Just after dinner they reached Mackinaw, where a number of the excursionists were to remain until the boat returned from Collingwood. The captain said they would remain at Mackinaw time enough to visit the fort.

Ready at the gangway as the boat touched 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 pebbles of the beach. Up the hill to the fort, the sun shining down on them with fervent heat, while his rays were reflected from the white walls. It was, however, a short, direct road, and the lovely view fully repaid them for the momentary heat. A peaceful scene lay beneath them; the quiet little village of Mackinaw, with its humble dwellings; the beach, sweeping round in the form of a crescent, and the placid waters of Lake Huron beyond, made a pretty picture; the sentinel walking to and fro on his post; the heavy pieces of artillery, and piles of shot and shell. Soldiers, grouped here and there, greatly interested Norman. The descent was very steep, and Norman in one minute found himself at the foot of the walled-in road which they had ascended. On arriving at the boat they found the men engaged in putting on shore sheep and cattle for the support of the soldiers, whose provision is thus brought to them. Taking advantage of the delay, Norman rushed on shore to buy some birch bark boxes, filled with maple sugar, and embroidered in porcupine quills. As he showed them to his mother on his return, she ventured up the street to buy some Indian work, emboldened by the sight of the captain walking before her.

A group of Indian women, in their own dress, with blue cloth blankets and leggings, attracted their attention as they entered the shop. They were Ottawas, and one of them had a face of great beauty. It was oval: her features were fine, and there was a pensive expression, a look of sadness on her face, that made her very interesting. Mrs. Lester wanted to look at that face of sorrowful meaning, and learn something of her history; but the sight of the captain, on his return to the boat, hastened her movements, and hastily selecting some fans and boxes of maple sugar, with an embroidered canoe of birch bark, she hurried away.

Nine more sheep to land; there would have been a few moments to spare for a longer perusal of the face of that Ottawa maiden, but it was safe to come when they did, and not run the risk of being left. And so they were once more in motion, with hastily gathered memories of Mackinaw, its town and fort.

“Norman,” said Mrs. Lester, “did you ever hear of a famous game of ball at Mackinaw?”

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

“It was in June. A number of Indians had arrived near the fort, apparently to trade, and a day was appointed for a game of ball, of which they are very fond. Stakes were planted, and the game, in playing which the great object is to keep the ball beyond the adversary’s goal, began. The Indians uttered loud cries in the wild excitement of the game, and the commandant of the fort and his lieutenant stood outside of the gate to watch them. The ball was tossed nearer and nearer the fort, and the excited crowd of Indians ran and leaped after it, when suddenly they rushed upon the two officers at the gate, and imprisoned them. At once they joined some Indians who had come into the fort under pretense of trading, and imprisoned the whole garrison, seventeen of whom they put to death.

“This was the beginning of Pontiac’s war.”

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

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

“Well, mother, I believe this was at the beginning of Pontiac’s war too. An Indian woman had made some moccasins for Major Gladstone, who commanded the fort at Detroit. They were made of a curious elk-skin that he valued very much. He paid her for them, and gave her the rest of the skin, asking her to make another pair for a friend of his. The squaw seemed unwilling to go home, and the major sent for her, and asked her what she was waiting for. She said she did not like to take the elk-skin that he thought so much of, as she could not make another pair of moccasins. He asked her why she could not make them. At first she would not tell; but then she said he had been very good to her, and she would tell him the secret, that she might save his life.

“The Indians, who had asked permission to visit the fort the next day, that they might present the calumet to Major Gladstone, were coming with their guns cut off, that they might hide them under their blankets; then, when Pontiac presented the calumet in some peculiar way, they were to fire upon the officers.

“The soldiers were stationed outside of the room where the council was to be held; the officers were armed, and when Pontiac was about to present the calumet, the officers partially drew their swords from their scabbards, and the clank of the soldiers’ arms was heard outside. Pontiac turned pale, and presented the calumet without the preconcerted signal.

“Major Gladstone then stepped up to one of the Indians, pulled aside his blanket, and revealed the gun cut short, just as the squaw had said. He accused Pontiac of treachery, but said that as he had promised them a safe audience, they might go out of the town unharmed.”

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

How beautiful the island looked in its commanding position! The high land in the center, with its lofty forests rising like a curve. How much they would have enjoyed the day that had been promised them at Mackinaw to visit the old fort on its central heights, the arched rock, and the wild solitudes of this picturesque region. The bold rock known as the Lover’s Leap stood out finely from the greenwood behind, and Norman listened to its story told him by Mr. Bard. An Indian maiden, who had refused to marry a brave who loved her very much, was one day seated on this lofty rock, looking out on the grand view beneath her, when she heard a stealthy step, and her rejected lover stood by her side. The hour, the scene were propitious to his suit, and again it was urged with all the warmth of earnest affection. The maiden listened, hesitated, and at length told him that if he would leap off that cliff she would marry him. The Indian raised his tall form to its utmost height, looked at the sea, the sky, and then at the beautiful face for which he periled the sight of both, and leaped from the giddy verge. Strange to say, without loss of life or limb, with the agility and skill of a well-trained Indian, he took the fearful leap, which was broken by the branches of trees and shrubbery beneath. And thus he won his Indian bride.

Mr. Bard, who had come to the country when there were but two houses in Chicago out of the fort, had been familiar with it when the Indian tribes roved at will over the vast prairies of Illinois. He spoke four of their languages, and could sing their songs. He had been twice cast away on the shores of Lake Michigan, and he could tell many a tale of wild adventure. More wonderful than any fairy tale was the aspect of the cultivated farms, the neat farm-houses, the numerous villages and towns, with their spires pointing skyward, the great city that had all grown up in a few years beneath his eye. And those red men, with whom he had been so familiarly associated, where had they gone? How rapidly those western regions are losing the element of the picturesque that the Indian with his bark canoe and his wigwam give to their lakes and rivers, with their wooded shores.

He told Norman of a most curious scene he had once witnessed. An Indian had a very handsome pony, which another Indian was anxious to purchase, but which he resolutely refused to sell. They were both drinking, when the owner of the pony, finding his stock of whisky exhausted, asked the other to give or sell him a mouthful from his remaining bottle. He at first declined, but, on being entreated, said that he would give him a mouthful of whisky for the pony. The Indian at once consented to give up his favorite horse for the momentary gratification, and putting his lips to those which had recently imbibed the whisky, he received the stipulated mouthful.

It was a repetition, in these western wilds, of the old Hebrew story, the sacrifice of a birthright by the hungry hunter for the mess of pottage given him by the plain man dwelling in tents. Well, were this the solitary repetition! but, alas! Esaus are found in all our borders, giving up, for the indulgence of present clamorous desires, an inheritance more glorious than any to which the first-born of earth could ever lay claim.

The captain asked Norman if he had seen the northern lights the evening before. Norman said that he was asleep, and asked the captain if he frequently saw them.

“O yes,” he replied, “they are very brilliant in these high latitudes. The Indians think they are the dance of the dead. One evening I came on deck, and looking up at that pole I saw a bird just resting on the gilt ball that surmounts it. I seemed to hear the soft flutter of her wings. I watched it for some time, and then went in and called the engineer to look at it. He too saw it, and when I turned to look at the boat every line and point seemed luminous. He was showing it to some ladies, and pointing toward it a light blue flame streamed from his finger. Everything was highly charged with electricity, which produced the semblance of the bird on the flagstaff on the bow. I never saw anything like it.”

“How long did it last?” asked Norman.

“About two hours.”

Norman then asked him about Lake Superior, and he told him of the wonderful beauty of the pictured rocks, of the castles and temples jutting out of their bold front, of their arched caverns; that those majestic rocks, three hundred feet high, extend ten miles, and the Indians passed them with awful reverence, thinking that they were the dwelling-place of the great Manitou.

The captain spoke of the sudden storms so violent in this “Big Sea Water” in the autumn, and showed Norman a very beautiful gold watch that had been presented to him by the citizens of Superior City, in honor of his courage, skill, and fidelity when his vessel was exposed to a severe storm, and he brought her safely through the snow, and ice, and tempest. On the case was engraved a picture of the “Lady Elgin,” and on the heavy gold chain, secured by an anchor to his buttonhole, were his initials, in massive gold letters.

The captain showed Norman the straits that led up into Lake Superior, and he regretted his mother had given up the excursion around the lake. She concluded that as they had been gone two months from home, it would not be well to set out on an excursion that would detain them ten or 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 much the loss of the sight of the prairies and rocks, and all the desolate glories of this great lake.

“Norman,” said his mother, “just think of the courage it must have required when, more than two hundred years ago, two French missionaries sailed over these lonely lakes. They were seventeen days in a light bark canoe. They sailed past the pretty islands we shall soon see in Georgian Bay, and over the clear waters upon which we are now sailing, up the river St. Mary, which the captain showed you, which leads to Lake Superior, and there, at the Sault St. Marie, they told the Indians about Jesus:

A lady showed Norman a picture of the rapids at the Sault St. Marie, with a number of Indians in their canoes; and the captain said they would paddle their canoes up the rapids, and then throwing their nets in the water as they came down, would catch the fish going up the stream.

After tea they seated themselves in the stern of the vessel, and looked at her track far over the lake. The air was cool and exhilarating, and it was with devout gratitude to God for the wonderful display of his mighty works, and for his abundant blessings, that some of the company gazed upon the serene glory of the sunsetting. It was not gorgeous, as was the sunset on Lake Michigan, with clouds of purple and crimson, but slowly, slowly the shining orb dipped behind the waters. The evening star hung trembling in the sky, faintly shining out from that region of pale gold; while the moon, high in the western heavens, promised for many hours her silvery light.

Norman brought out his trolling-hook, that he might have the pleasure of throwing it into Lake Huron, as he was denied that of fishing in Lake Superior. He let it out at the end of a long and strong fishing line, and amused himself watching it bounce out of the water, and feeling the twitches it gave his hand as the boat moved rapidly onward. A lady, who sat near, was very much amused at the stout resistance of the waves. At length Norman drew in his line, and lo! and behold the hook was gone. The action of the waves had worn away the stout cord, made still stronger by being wound around with thread.

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

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

“And you have the honor of having lost your hook in the clear waters of Lake Huron,” added his mother. Norman was meanwhile tying to the end of his line the little board on which the line had been wound, and he threw that in the water in place of the hook. This was a more stirring pastime. The board offered so much stronger resistance to the waves, that Norman had to wind the line several times around his hand to retain his hold. At one moment the jerk was so violent, that the cord drew the boy toward the low balustrade, over which he might have easily gone, but for the interposing arms of the lady and his mother, at once thrown round him. There was a start among the little company as they perceived the boy’s danger, and Mrs. Lester told Norman he had now better draw in his line.

A new entertainment succeeded. Norman had been watching a sea-gull that had been following directly in the track of their vessel for many miles long before sunset; those untiring wings of snowy white had borne the graceful bird onward, and ever and anon she made a circling sweep, and rested a while on the bosom of the water.

“Norman,” said Mrs. Bard, “you go to the pantry, and ask for some pieces of bread, and throw them in the water, and you will soon have a flock of sea-gulls following you.”

Norman waited not a second bidding, and soon came back with some rolls and pieces of bread. He threw some in, and the gull did not see them. He then waited till the bird came quite near the vessel, and threw it up toward her. Then he had the satisfaction of seeing the gull slowly circle round and round, till it picked up the morsel of bread. In a few minutes another gull came, and then another, and then another, till six white birds, on rapid wing, were hovering over the vessel’s track, and picking up the bread cast upon the waters.

Norman’s delight knew no bounds. It is pleasant to feed chickens in a barn-yard; but what is that compared to feeding gulls on Lake Huron, and seeing them wing their flight at your call through the trackless solitudes of air. He was sorry when the darkness prevented the sea-gulls from seeing the pieces of bread, and they

The evening star soon set, and the moon was left pale empress of the sky. How glorious was the path of silvery light she threw across the water. Sweet strains of music sounded from the band, and the eye, following that radiant pathway, would see in it now a silvery cascade, and now a shining road to a niche, in which hung the moon, the crescent lamp of night. It was a sweet conclusion to a day rich in enjoyment. Sea, sky, and air had brought their tribute; and the heart of man had rejoiced, as the eye took in this wealth of beauty. What suitable expression those feelings found in the language of the nineteenth Psalm!