Wau-bun | Page 8

the news of our arrival, and had come to take us at
once to his hospitable mansion. We were only too happy to gather
together our bags and travelling-baskets and accompany him without
farther ceremony.
Our drive took us first along the edge of Navarino, next through
Shanty-town (the latter a far more appropriate name than the former),
amid mud and mire, over bad roads, and up and down hilly, break-neck
places, until we reached the little brick dwelling of our friends. Mrs.
Doty received us with such true, sisterly kindness, and everything
seemed so full of welcome, that we soon felt ourselves at home.
We found that, expecting our arrival, invitations had already been
prepared to assemble the whole circle of Green Bay society to meet us
at an evening party--this, in a new country, being the established mode
of doing honor to guests or strangers.
We learned, upon inquiry, that Captain Harney, who had kindly offered
to come with a boat and crew of soldiers from Fort Winnebago, to
convey us to that place, our destined home, had not yet arrived; we
therefore felt at liberty to make arrangements for a few days of social
enjoyment at "the Bay."
It was pleasant to people, secluded in such a degree from the world at

large, to bear all the news we had brought--all the particulars of life and
manners--the thousand little items that the newspapers of that day did
not dream of furnishing--the fashions, and that general gossip, in short,
which a lady is erroneously supposed more au fait of, than a gentleman.
I well remember that, in giving and receiving information, the day
passed in a pretty uninterrupted stream of communication. All the party
except myself had made the journey, or rather voyage, up the Fox River
and down the Wisconsin to the Mississippi.
There were plenty of anecdotes of a certain trip performed by the three,
in company with a French trader and his two sisters, then making their
debut as Western travellers. The manner in which Mademoiselle Julie
would borrow, without leave, a fine damask napkin or two, to wipe out
the ducks in preparation for cooking--the difficulty of persuading either
of the sisters of the propriety of washing and rinsing their table
apparatus nicely before packing it away in the mess-basket, the
consequence of which was, that another nice napkin must be stealthily
whisked out, to wipe the dishes when the hour for meals arrived--the
fun of the young gentleman in hunting up his stray articles, thus
misappropriated, from the nooks and corners of the boat, tying them
with a cord, and hanging them over the stern, to make their way down
the Wisconsin to Prairie du Chien.
Then there was a capital story of M. Rolette himself. At one point on
the route (I think in crossing Winnebago Lake) the travellers met one of
the Company's boats on its way to Green Bay for supplies. M. Rolette
was one of the agents of the Company, and the people in the boat were
his employés. Of course after an absence of some weeks from home,
the meeting on these lonely waters and the exchanging of news was an
occasion of great excitement.
The boats were stopped--earnest greetings interchanged--question
followed question.
"_Eh bien_--have they finished the new house?"
"_Oui, Monsieur_."

"_Et la cheminée, fume-t-elle?_" (Does the chimney smoke?)
"_Non, Monsieur_."
"And the harvest--how is that?"
"Very fine, indeed."
"Is the mill at work?"
"Yes, plenty of water."
"How is Whip?" (his favorite horse.)
"Oh! Whip is first-rate."
Everything, in short, about the store, the farm, the business of various
descriptions being satisfactorily gone over, there was no occasion for
farther delay. It was time to proceed.
"_Eh bien--adieu! bon voyage!_"
"_Arrachez, mes gens!_" (Go ahead, men!)
Then suddenly--"_Arrêtez! arrêtez!_" (Stop, stop!)
"_Comment se portent Madame Rolette et les enfans?_" (How are Mrs.
Rolette and the children?)
* * * * *
This day, with its excitement, was at length over, and we retired to our
rest, thankful that we had not General Root and his secretary close to
our bed's head, with their budget of political news.
My slumbers were not destined, however, to be quite undisturbed. I
was awakened, at the first slight peep of dawn, by a sound from an
apartment beneath our own--a plaintive, monotonous chant, rising and
then falling in a sort of mournful cadence. It seemed to me a wail of

something unearthly--so wild--so strange--so unaccountable. In terror I
awoke my husband, who reassured me by telling me it was the morning
salutation of the Indians to the opening day.
Some Menomonees had been kindly given shelter for the night in the
kitchen below, and, having fulfilled their unvarying custom of chanting
their morning hymn, they now ceased, and again composed themselves
to sleep.