ted by the snow, which fell eight inches on the 4th of October,
Miss Brush determined to give up the remainder of her excursion, and
accept our pressing invitation to remain with us until the return of her
friends, we were looked upon as public benefactors. She was now to
accompany us to Green Bay, and possibly to Detroit.

Our voyage down the river was without incident, and we reached Green Bay
just as all the place was astir in the expectation of the arrival of one
of Mr. Newbery's schooners. This important event was the subject of
interest to the whole community, from Fort Howard to "Dickenson's." To
some its arrival would bring friends, to some supplies--to the ladies,
the fashions, to the gentlemen, the news, for it was the happy bearer of
the mails, not for that place alone, but for all the "upper country."

In a few days the vessel arrived. She brought a mail for Fort Winnebago,
it being only in the winter season that letters were carried by land to
that place, via _Niles's Settlement_ and Chicago.

In virtue of his office as Postmaster, my husband opened the mail-bag,
and took possession of his own letters. One informed him of the
satisfactory appearance at the Department of the missing accounts, but
oh! sad disappointment, another brought the news that my parents had
gone to Kentucky for the winter--not to any city or accessible place,
but "up the Sandy," and over among the mountains of Virginia, hunting up
old land-claims belonging to my grandfather's estate.

It was vain to hope to follow them. We might hardly expect to find them
during the short period we could be absent from home--not even were we
to receive the lucid directions once given my father by an old settler
during his explorations through that wild region.

"You must go up _Tug_," said the man, "and down _Troublesome_, and fall
over on to _Kingdom-come_."[51]

We did not think it advisable to undertake such an expedition, and
therefore made up our minds to retrace our steps to Fort Winnebago.

No boats were in readiness to ascend the river. Our old friend Hamilton
promised to have one in preparation at once, but time passed by, and no
boat was made ready.

It was now the beginning of November. We were passing our time very
pleasantly with the Irwins and Whitneys, and at the residence of
Colonel Stambaugh, the Indian Agent, but still this delay was
inconvenient and vexatious.

I suggested undertaking the journey on horseback. "No, indeed,"