ages are a mere matter of convenience, or, to speak with greater
propriety, a kind of bargain settled between the parents and relatives."

We came on very well, and encamped at the Little Detroit, or strait, so
called, in the Grand Traverse. This traverse separates Green Bay from
Lake Michigan. It is computed to be twenty miles over. A cluster of
islands enables canoes to pass. There are some hieroglyphics on
the rocks.

_2d_. We embarked at three o'clock, A.M., and went on very well, until
ten, when we stopped on one of the islands for breakfast, having nearly
completed the traverse. In the meantime the wind arose in our favor, and
we went on along the north shore of Lake Michigan gayly. We passed the
mouth of the Manistee River, which interlocks with the Tacquimenon of
Lake Superior, where some of our St. Mary's Chippewas make their
gardens. An aft wind and light spirits are inseparable, whether a man be
in a frigate or a canoe. There is something in the air exhilarating. I
have been passing in retrospect, the various journeys I have made, but
during none has my anxieties to return been so great as this. What a
wonderful destiny it is that makes one man a traveler and another a
poet, a mathematician, &c. We appear to be guided by some innate
principle which has a predominating force. No man was more unlikely to
be a traveler than myself. I always thought myself to be domestic in my
feelings, habits, and inclinations, and even in very early youth,
proposed to live a life of domestic felicity. I thought such a life
inseparable from the married state, and resolved, therefore, to get
married, as soon as prudence and inclination would permit.
Notwithstanding this way of thinking my life has been a series of active
employment and arduous journeyings. I may say my travels began even in
childhood, for when only six or seven years old, I recollect to have
wandered off a long distance into the pine plains of my native town, to
view Honicroisa Hill, a noted object in that part of the country, to the
great alarm of all the family, who sent out to search for me. My next
journey was in my eleventh year, when I accompanied my father, in his
chaise, he dressed out in his regimentals, to attend a general
court-martial at Saratoga. I had not then read any history of our
Revolution, but had heard its battles and hardships, told over by my
father, which created a deep interest, and among the events was
Burgoyne's surrender. My mind was