Wau-bun | Page 5

beans and the folles avoines,[2] or wild rice; while
the squaws added to their quota of merchandise a contribution in the
form of moccasins, hunting-pouches, mococks, or little boxes of
birch-bark embroidered with porcupine-quills and filled with
maple-sugar, mats of a neat and durable fabric, and toy-models of
Indian cradles, snow-shoes, canoes, etc., etc.
It was no unusual thing, at this period, to see a hundred or more canoes
of Indians at once approaching the island, laden with their articles of
traffic; and if to these we add the squadrons of large Mackinac boats
constantly arriving from the outposts, with the furs, peltries, and
buffalo-robes collected by the distant traders, some idea may be formed
of the extensive operations and important position of the American Fur
Company, as well as of the vast circle of human beings either
immediately or remotely connected with it.

It is no wonder that the philanthropic mind, surveying these, races of
uncultivated heathen, should stretch forward to the time when, through
an unwearied devotion of the white man's energies, and an untiring
sacrifice of self and fortune, his red brethren might rise in the scale of
social civilization--when Education and Christianity should go hand in
hand, to make "the wilderness blossom as the rose."
Little did the noble souls at that day rejoicing in the success of their
labors at Mackinac, anticipate that in less than a quarter of a century
there would remain of all these numerous tribes but a few scattered
bands, squalid, degraded, with scarce a vestige remaining of their
former lofty character--their lands cajoled or wrested from them, the
graves of their fathers turned up by the ploughshare--themselves chased
farther and farther towards the setting sun, until they were literally
grudged a resting-place on the face of the earth!
Our visit to the Mission-school was of short duration, for the Henry
Clay was to leave at two o'clock, and in the mean time we were to see
what we could of the village and its environs, and after that dine with
Mr. Mitchell, an old friend of my husband. As we walked leisurely
along over the white, gravelly road, many of the residences of the old
inhabitants were pointed out to me. There was the dwelling of Madame
Laframboise, an Ottawa woman, whose husband had taught her to read
and write, and who had ever after continued to use the knowledge she
had acquired for the instruction and improvement of the youth among
her own people. It was her custom to receive a class of young pupils
daily at her house, that she might give them lessons in the branches
mentioned, and also in the principles of the Roman Catholic religion, to
which she was deeply devoted. She was a woman of a vast deal of
energy and enterprise--of a tall and commanding figure, and most
dignified deportment. After the death of her husband, who was killed
while away at his trading-post by a Winnebago named White Ox, she
was accustomed to visit herself the trading-posts, superintend the clerks
and engagés, and satisfy herself that the business was carried on in a
regular and profitable manner.
The Agency-house, with its unusual luxuries of piazza and gardens,

was situated at the foot of the hill on which the fort was built. It was a
lovely spot, notwithstanding the stunted and dwarfish appearance of all
cultivated vegetation in this cold northern latitude.
The collection of rickety, primitive-looking buildings, occupied by the
officials of the Fur Company, reflected no great credit on the
architectural skill of my husband, who had superintended their
construction, he told me, when little more than a boy.
There were, besides these, the residences of the Dousmans, the Abbotts,
the Biddles, the Drews, and the Lashleys, stretching away along the
base of the beautiful hill, crowned with the white walls and buildings of
the fort, the ascent to which was so steep that on the precipitous face
nearest the beach staircases were built by which to mount from below.
My head ached intensely, the effect of the motion of the boat on the
previous day, but I did not like to give up to it; so, after I had been
shown all that could be seen of the little settlement in the short time
allowed us, we repaired to Mr. Mitchell's.
We were received by Mrs. M., an extremely pretty, delicate woman,
part French and part Sioux, whose early life had been passed at Prairie
du Chien, on the Mississippi. She had been a great belle among the
young officers at Fort Crawford; so much so, indeed, that the suicide of
the post-surgeon was attributed to an unsuccessful attachment he had
conceived for her. I was greatly struck with her soft and gentle manners,
and the musical intonation of her voice, which