all the varieties of
fruit-trees that Michaud might be supposed able to climb.

By evening of the first day we arrived at _the Kakalin_, where another
branch of the Grignon family resided. We were very pleasantly
entertained, although, in my anxiety to begin my forest life, I would
fain have had the tent pitched on the bank of the river, and have laid
aside, at once, the indulgences of civilization. This, however, would
have been a slight, perhaps an affront; so we did much better, and
partook of the good cheer that was offered us in the shape of hot
venison steaks and crepes, and that excellent cup of coffee which none
can prepare like a Frenchwoman, and which is so refreshing after a day
in the open air.

The Kakalin is a rapid of the Fox River, sufficiently important to make
the portage of the heavy lading of a boat necessary; the boat itself
being poled or dragged up with cords against the current. It is one of a
series of rapids and _chutes_, or falls, which occur between this point
and Lake Winnebago, twenty miles above.

The next morning, after breakfast, we took leave of our hosts, and
prepared to pursue our journey. The bourgeois, from an early hour, had
been occupied in superintending his men in getting the boat and its
loading over the Kakalin. As the late rains had made the paths through
the woods and along the banks of the river somewhat muddy and
uncomfortable for walking, I was put into an ox-cart, to be jolted over
the unequal road; saluting impartially all the stumps and stones that
lay in our way, the only means of avoiding which seemed to be when the
little, thick-headed Frenchman, our conductor, bethought him of suddenly
guiding his cattle into a projecting tree or thorn-bush, to the great
detriment not only of my straw bonnet, but of my very eyes.

But we got through at last, and, arriving at the head of the rapids, I
found the boat lying there, all in readiness for our re-embarking.

Our Menomonee guide, _Wish-tay-yun_, a fine, stalwart Indian, with an
open, good-humored, one might almost say _roguish_ countenance, came
forward to be presented to me.

"_Bon-jour, bon-jour, maman_," was his laughing salutation. Again I was
surprised, not as before at the French, for to that I had become
accustomed, but at the respectable title he was pleased to bestow upon
me.

"Yes," said my husband, "you must make up your mind to receive a very
numerous and well-grown family, consisting of all the Winnebag