oars. The sun was
just showing his face above the eastern woods as they pulled out into
the river. The boat was crowded with sundry household matters--all
carefully packed up and stowed away; a very small place was left at the
stern, and was occupied by the two women and the children. The mother
was a small and delicate-looking creature, well and neatly dressed. Had
you been there, you would have observed tear after tear dropping from
the pale cheek, as she bent in silence over her youngest babe; and see,
the eyes of that young father, too, are suffused with tears. Why do they
weep? Whither are they bound? Not a word is spoken. They are too sad to
talk. Still the oar keeps its measured stroke, and they glide slowly
on, and thus may we follow them day after day. Now and then a gentle
breeze fills the sail, and wafts the small boat on. When the shades of
evening begin to fall around them, they push to shore, and rear a
temporary tent. Then the frugal supper is spread upon the green grass,
and they gather round it, and forget their toils in speculations upon
the future. But the morrow draws on, with its demands upon their
strength; so they lay them down to rest. In due course they reach
Albany, then a small Dutch town filled with Dutch people, Dutch comforts
and frugality, and Dutch cabbage. This in those days was one of the
outposts of civilization. Beyond was a wilderness-land but little known.
Some necessaries are purchased, and again our little company launch
away. They reach the place where the city of Troy now stands, and turn
away to the left into the Mohawk river, and proceed slowly, and often
with great difficulty, up the rapids and windings of the stream. The
rich and fertile valley of the Mohawk of to-day was then the home of the
Indian. There the celebrated Chief Brant had lived but a short time
before, but had now withdrawn into the wilds of Western Canada. The
voyagers, after several days of hard labour and difficulty, emerge into
the little lake Oneida, lying in the north-western part of the State of
New York, through which they pass with ease and pleasure. The most
difficult part of their journey had been passed. They reach the Onondago
river, and soon pass down it to Oswego, then an old fort which the
French had reared when they possessed the country as a barrier against
the encroachments of the wily Indian. Several bloody frays have occurred
here, but our friends did not pause to learn their history. Their