charm, in the
remains of the garden, the remains even of chimneys and a pier. They
gave feature to the scene.

Here I gathered many flowers, but they were the same as at Mackinaw.

The captain, though he had been on this trip hundreds of times, had
never seen this spot, and never would but for this fog, and his desire
to entertain me. He presented a striking instance how men, for the
sake of getting a living, forget to live. It is just the same in the
most romantic as the most dull and vulgar places. Men get the harness
on so fast, that they can never shake it off, unless they guard
against this danger from the very first. In Chicago, how many men live
who never find time to see the prairies, or learn anything unconnected
with the business of the day, or about the country they are living in!

So this captain, a man of strong sense and good eyesight, rarely found
time to go off the track or look about him on it. He lamented, too,
that there had been no call which, induced him to develop his powers
of expression, so that he might communicate what he had seen for the
enjoyment or instruction of others.

This is a common fault among the active men, the truly living, who
could tell what life is. It should not be so. Literature should not be
left to the mere literati,--eloquence to the mere orator; every Caesar
should be able to write his own commentary. We want a more equal, more
thorough, more harmonious development, and there is nothing to hinder
the men of this country from it, except their own supineness, or
sordid views.

When the weather did clear, our course up the river was delightful.
Long stretched before us the island of St. Joseph's, with its fair
woods of sugar-maple. A gentleman on board, who belongs to the Fort
at the Sault, said their pastime was to come in the season of making
sugar, and pass some time on this island,--the days at work, and the
evening in dancing and other amusements. Work of this kind done in the
open air, where everything is temporary, and every utensil prepared
on the spot, gives life a truly festive air. At such times, there is
labor and no care,--energy with gayety, gayety of the heart.

I think with the same pleasure of the Italian vintage, the Scotch
harvest-home, with its evening dance in the barn, the Russian
cabbage-feast even, and our huskings and hop-gatherings. The
hop-gatherings, where the groups of men and girls are pulling down and
filling baskets with the gay festoon