at one of my visits to New York, by Mr. Carter.
He appeared to be one of those anomalous persons, of easy good nature,
without much energy or will, and little or no moral sense, who might be
made a tool of. It seems no one at New York was taken in by him, but
having wandered over to London, the booksellers found him a good subject
for a book, and some hack there, with considerable cleverness, made him
a pack-horse for carrying a load of stuff about America's treatment of
the Indians. It was called a "captivity," and he was made to play the
part of an adventurer among the Indians--somewhat after the manner of
John Tanner. C. reviewed the book, on our route and at the Prairie, for
the _North American_, in an article which created quite a sensation, and
will be remembered for its force and eloquence. He first read to me some
of these glowing sentences, while on the portages of the Fox. It was
continued, during the leisure hours of the conferences, and finally the
critique was finished, after his visiting the place and the person, in
Missouri, to which Hunter had alluded as his sponsor in baptism. The man
denied all knowledge of him. Hunter was utterly demolished, and his book
shown to be as great a tissue of misrepresentation as that of
Psalmanazar himself.

_August 21st_. The party separates. I had determined to return to the
Sault by way of Lake Superior, through Chippewa River. But, owing to the
murder of Finley and his men at its mouth in 1824, I found it impossible
to engage men at Prairie du Chien, to take that route. I determined
therefore to go up the Wisconsin, and by the way of Green Bay. For this
purpose, I purchased a light canoe, engaged men to paddle it, and laid
in provisions and stores to last to Green Bay. Having done so, I
embarked about 3 o'clock P.M., descending the majestic Mississippi, with
spirits enlivened by the hope of soon rejoining friends far away. At the
same time, Mr. Holliday left for the same destination in a separate
canoe. On reaching the mouth of the Wisconsin, we entered that broad
tributary, and found the current strong. We passed the point of rocks
called _Petite Gres_, and encamped at _Grand Gres_.

Several hours previous to leaving the prairie, a friend handed me an
enveloped packet, saying, "Read it when you get to the mouth of the
Wisconsin." I had no conception what it related to, but felt great
anxiety to reach the place mentioned. I then opened it, and read as
follows: "I can