Steamer St. Louis, Lake Huron, August 20, 1846.

Yesterday evening we left the beautiful island of Mackinaw, after a visit of two days delightfully passed.  We had climbed its cliffs, rambled on its shores, threaded the walks among its thickets, driven out in the roads that wind through its woods—­roads paved by nature with limestone pebbles, a sort of natural macadamization, and the time of our departure seemed to arrive several days too soon.

The fort which crowns the heights near the shore commands an extensive prospect, but a still wider one is to be seen from the old fort, Fort Holmes, as it is called, among whose ruined intrenchments the half-breed boys and girls now gather gooseberries.  It stands on the very crest of the island, overlooking all the rest.  The air, when we ascended it, was loaded with the smoke of burning forests, but from this spot, in clear weather, I was told a magnificent view might be had of the Straits of Mackinaw, the wooded islands, and the shores and capes of the great mainland, places known to history for the past two centuries.  For when you are at Mackinaw you are at no new settlement.

In looking for samples of Indian embroidery with porcupine quills, we found ourselves one day in the warehouse of the American Fur Company, at Mackinaw.  Here, on the shelves, were piles of blankets, white and blue, red scarfs, and white boots; snow-shoes were hanging on the walls, and wolf-traps, rifles, and hatchets, were slung to the ceiling—­an assortment of goods destined for the Indians and half-breeds of the northwest.  The person who attended at the counter spoke English with a foreign accent.  I asked him how long he had been in the northwestern country.

“To say the truth,” he answered, “I have been here sixty years and some days.”

“You were born here, then.”

“I am a native of Mackinaw, French by the mother’s side; my father was an Englishman.”

“Was the place as considerable sixty years ago as it now is?”

“More so.  There was more trade here, and quite as many inhabitants.  All the houses, or nearly all, were then built; two or three only have been put up since.”

I could easily imagine that Mackinaw must have been a place of consequence when here was the centre of the fur trade, now removed further up the country.  I was shown the large house in which the heads of the companies of voyageurs engaged in the trade were lodged, and the barracks, a long low building, in which the voyageurs themselves, seven hundred in number, made their quarters from the end of June till the beginning of October, when they went out again on their journeys.  This interval of three months was a merry time with those light-hearted Frenchmen.  When a boat made its appearance approaching Mackinaw, they fell to conjecturing to what company of voyageurs it belonged; as the dispute grew warm the conjectures became bets, till finally, unable to restrain their impatience, the boldest of them dashed into the waters, swam out to the boat, and climbing on board, shook hands with their brethren, amidst the shouts of those who stood on the beach.