Wau-bun | Page 3

narration of a
tour with General Cass, in 1820, to the sources of the Mississippi--nay,
even earlier, in the days when I stood at my teacher's knee, and spelled
out the long word Mich-i-li-mack-i-nac, that distant land, with its vast
lakes, its boundless prairies, and its mighty forests, had possessed a
wonderful charm for my imagination. Now I was to see it!--it was to be
my home!
Our ride to the quay, through the dark by-ways, in a cart, the only
vehicle which at that day could navigate the muddy, unpaved streets of
Detroit, was a theme for much merriment, and not less so, our descent
of the narrow, perpendicular stair-way by which we reached the little
apartment called the Ladies' Cabin. We were highly delighted with the
accommodations, which, by comparison, seemed the very climax of
comfort and convenience; more especially as the occupants of the cabin
consisted, beside myself, of but a lady and two little girls.
Nothing could exceed the pleasantness of our trip for the first
twenty-four hours. There were some officers, old friends, among the
passengers. We had plenty of books. The gentlemen read aloud
occasionally, admired the solitary magnificence of the scenery around
us, the primeval woods, or the vast expanse of water unenlivened by a
single sail, and then betook themselves to their cigar, or their game of
euchre, to while away the hours.
For a time the passage over Thunder Bay was delightful, but, alas! it
was not destined, in our favor, to belie its name. A storm came on, fast
and furious--what was worse, it was of long duration. The pitching and
rolling of the little boat, the closeness, and even the sea-sickness, we
bore as became us. They were what we had expected, and were
prepared for. But a new feature of discomfort appeared, which almost
upset our philosophy.
The rain, which fell in torrents, soon made its way through every seam
and pore of deck or moulding. Down the stair-way, through the joints
and crevices, it came, saturating first the carpet, then the bedding, until,
finally, we were completely driven, "by stress of weather," into the
Gentlemen's Cabin. Way was made for us very gallantly, and every

provision resorted to for our comfort, and we were congratulating
ourselves on having found a haven in our distress, when, lo! the seams
above opened, and down upon our devoted heads poured such a flood,
that even umbrellas were an insufficient protection. There was nothing
left for the ladies and children but to betake ourselves to the berths,
which, in this apartment, fortunately remained dry; and here we
continued ensconced the livelong day. Our dinner was served up to us
on our pillows. The gentlemen chose the dryest spots, raised their
umbrellas, and sat under them, telling amusing anecdotes, and saying
funny things to cheer us, until the rain ceased, and at nine o'clock in the
evening we were gladdened by the intelligence that we had reached the
pier at Mackinac.
We were received with the most affectionate cordiality by Mr. and Mrs.
Robert Stuart, at whose hospitable mansion we had been for some days
expected.
The repose and comfort of an asylum like this, can be best appreciated
by those who have reached it after a tossing and drenching such as ours
had been. A bright, warm fire, and countenances beaming with kindest
interest, dispelled all sensations of fatigue or annoyance.
After a season of pleasant conversation, the servants were assembled,
the chapter of God's word was solemnly read, the hymn chanted, the
prayer of praise and thanksgiving offered, and we were conducted to
our place of repose.
It is not my purpose here to attempt a portrait of those noble friends
whom I thus met for the first time. To an abler pen than mine should be
assigned the honor of writing the biography of Robert Stuart. All who
have enjoyed the happiness of his acquaintance, or, still more, a sojourn
under his hospitable roof, will carry with them to their latest hour the
impression of his noble bearing, his genial humor, his untiring
benevolence, his upright, uncompromising adherence to principle, his
ardent philanthropy, his noble disinterestedness. Irving in his "Astoria,"
and Franchere in his "Narrative," give many striking traits of his early
character, together with events of his history of a thrilling and romantic
interest, but both have left the most valuable portion unsaid, his

after-life, namely, as a Christian gentleman.
Of his beloved partner, who still survives him, mourning on her
bereaved and solitary pilgrimage, yet cheered by the recollection of her
long and useful course as a "Mother in Israel," we will say no more
than to offer the incense of loving hearts, and prayers for the best
blessings from her Father in heaven.

CHAPTER II
MICHILIMACKINAC.
Michilimackinac!