The fiscal crisis that was now impending over Michigan, it was evident was in the process of advance; but it was not possible to tell when it would fall, nor with what severity.  All had been over-speculating—­over-trading—­over-banking, overdoing everything, in short, that prudence should dictate.  But the public were in for it, and could not, it seems, back out, and every one hoped for the best.  My best friends, the most cautious guides of my youth, had entered into the speculating mania, and there appeared to be, in fact, nobody of means or standing, who had been proof against the temptation of getting rich soon.  I “immured” myself far away from the scene of turmoil and strife, and was happy so long as I kept my eyes on my books and manuscripts.

Feb. 8th.  The mission recently established by the Presbyterian Board at Grand Traverse Bay, flourishes as well as it is reasonable to expect.  Mr. Johnston writes:  “The chief Kosa, and another Indian, have cut logs sufficient for their houses.  This finishes our pinery on this point.  We cannot now get timber short of the river on the south-east side of the bay, or at the bottom of it, twelve miles distant.  Mr. Dougherty has a prayer meeting on Saturday night, and Bible class on Sabbath afternoon.  His meetings on Sunday are regularly attended by all the Indians who spend the winter with us; they continue to manifest a kind feeling towards us, and appear anxious to acquire useful knowledge.”

March 7th.  While politicians, financiers, speculators in real estate, anxious holders of bank stock, and missionaries careful of the Indian tribes are thus busy—­each class animated by a separate hope—­it is refreshing to see that my little daughter (Jane) who writes under this date from her school at Philadelphia, is striving after p’s and g’s.  “I am getting along in my studies very well.  I love music as much as ever.  I like my French studies much.  I have got all p’s for my lessons, but one g.  G is for good, and p for perfect.”  What a pity that all classes of adult men were not pursuing their g’s and p’s with equal simplicity of emulation and purity of purpose.

10th.  Prof.  L. Fasquelle, of Livingston, transmits to me a translation of the so-called “Pontiac manuscript.”  This document consists of an ancient French journal, of daily events during the siege of the fort of Detroit by that redoubtable chief and his confederates in 1763.  It was found in the garret of one of the French habitants, thrust away between the plate and the roof; partly torn, and much soiled by rains and the effects of time.