d the good wishes and laughter of our few remaining
acquaintances. Our wagon had been provided with a pair of excellent
travelling horses, and, sister Margaret and myself being accommodated
with the best pacers the country could afford, we set off in high
spirits towards the Aux Plaines--our old friend, Billy Caldwell (the
Sau-ga-nash), with our brother Robert, and Gholson Kercheval,
accompanying us to that point of our journey.

There was no one at Barney Lawton's when we reached there, save a
Frenchman and a small number of Indians. My sister and I dismounted, and
entered the dwelling, the door of which stood open. Two Indians were
seated on the floor, smoking. They raised their eyes as we appeared, and
never shall I forget the expression of wonder and horror depicted on the
countenances of both. Their lips relaxed until the pipe of one fell upon
the floor. Their eyes seemed starting from their heads, and raising
their outspread hands, as if to wave us from them, they slowly
ejaculated, "_Manitou!"_ (a spirit.)

As we raised our masks, and, smiling, came forward to shake hands with
them, they sprang to their feet and fairly uttered a cry of delight at
the sight of our familiar faces.

"Bon-jour, bon-jour, Maman!" was their salutation, and they instantly
plunged out of doors to relate to their companions what had happened.

Our afternoon's ride was over a prairie stretching away to the northeast
No living creature was to be seen upon its broad expanse, but flying and
circling over our heads were innumerable flocks of curlews,

"Screaming their wild notes to the listening waste."

Their peculiar, shrill cry of "crack, crack, crack--rackety, rackety,
rackety," repeated from the throats of dozens, as they sometimes stooped
quite close to our ears, became at length almost unbearable. It seemed
as if they had lost their senses in the excitement of so unusual and
splendid a cortege in their hitherto desolate domain.

The accelerated pace of our horses, as we approached a beautiful,
wooded knoll, warned us that this was to be our place of repose for the
night. These animals seem to know by instinct a favorable
encamping-ground, and this was one of the most lovely imaginable.

The trees, which near the lake had, owing to the coldness and tardiness
of the season, presented the pale-yellow appearance of unfledged
goslings, were here bursting into full leaf. The ground around was
carpeted with flowers--we could not bear t