abeth Grignon as interpreter, made a missionary
visit to the Portage during our residence there, and, after some
instruction from him, about forty consented to be baptized. Christian
names were given to them, with which they seemed much pleased; and not
less so with the little plated crucifixes which each received, and which
the women wore about their necks. These they seemed to regard with a
devotional feeling; but I was not sufficiently acquainted with their
language to gather from them whether they understood the doctrine the
symbol was designed to convey. Certain it is, they expressed no wish to
learn our language, in order that they might gain a fuller knowledge of
the Saviour, nor any solicitude to be taught more about him than they
had received during the missionary's short visit.

One woman, to whom the name of Charlotte had been given, signified a
desire to learn the domestic ways of the whites, and asked of me as a
favor through Madame Paquette that she might be permitted to come on
"washing-day," and learn of my servants our way of managing the
business. A tub was given her, and my woman instructed her, by signs and
example, how she was to manage. As I was not a little curious to observe
how things went on, I proceeded after a time to the kitchen where they
all were. Charlotte was at her tub, scouring and rubbing with all her
might at her little crucifix. Two other squaws sat upon the floor near
her, watching the operation.

"That is the work she has been at for the last half-hour," said Josette,
in a tone of great impatience. "_She'll_ never learn to wash."

Charlotte, however, soon fell diligently to work, and really seemed as
if she would tear her arms off, with her violent exertions.

After a time, supposing that she must feel a good deal fatigued and
exhausted with the unaccustomed labor, I did what it was at that day
very much the fashion to do,--what, at home, I had always seen done on
washing-day,--what, in short, I imagine was then a general custom among
housekeepers. I went to the dining-room closet, intending to give
Charlotte a glass of wine or brandy and water. My "cupboard" proved to
be in the state of the luckless "Mother Hubbard's"--nothing of the kind
could I find but a bottle of orange shrub.

Of this I poured out a wineglassful, and, carrying it out, offered it to
the woman. She took it with an expression of great pleasure; but, in
carrying it to her lips, she stopped short, and exclaim