Some Menomonees had been kindly given shelter for the night in the kitchen below, and, having fulfilled their unvarying custom of chanting their morning hymn, they now ceased, and again composed themselves to sleep.  But not so their auditor.  There was to me something inexpressibly beautiful in this morning song of praise from the untaught sons of the forest.  What a lesson did it preach to the civilized, Christianized world, too many of whom lie down and rise up without an aspiration of thanksgiving to their Almighty Preserver—­without even a remembrance of His care, who gives His angels charge concerning them!  Never has the impression of that simple act of worship faded from my mind.  I have loved to think that, with some, these strains might be the outpouring of a devotion as pure as that of the Christian when he utters the inspiring words of the sainted Ken—­

“Awake, my soul! and with the sun,” etc.

* * * * *

Among the visitors who called to offer me a welcome to the West, were Mr. and Miss Cadle, who were earnestly engaged in the first steps of their afterwards flourishing enterprise for the education of Indian and half-breed children.  The school-houses and chapel were not yet erected, but we visited their proposed site, and listened with great interest to bright anticipations of the future good that was to be accomplished—­the success that was to crown their efforts for taming the heathen and teaching them the knowledge of their Saviour and the blessings of civilized life.  The sequel has shown how little the zeal of the few can accomplish, when opposed to the cupidity of the many.

Our evening party went off as parties do elsewhere.  The most interesting feature to me, because the most novel, was the conversation of some young ladies to whom I was introduced, natives of Green Bay or its vicinity.  Their mother was a Menomonee, but their father was a Frenchman, a descendant of a settler some generations back, and who, there is reason to believe, was a branch of the same family of Grignon to which the daughter of Madame de Sevigne belonged.  At least, it is said there are in the possession of the family many old papers and records which would give that impression, although the orthography of the name has become slightly changed.  Be that as it may, the Miss Grignons were strikingly dignified, well-bred young ladies, and there was a charm about their soft voices, and original, unsophisticated remarks, very attractive to a stranger.

They opened to me, however, a new field of apprehension; for, on my expressing my great impatience to see my new home, they exclaimed, with a look of wonder,—­

“Vous n’avez donc pas peur des serpens?”

“Snakes! was it possible there were snakes at Fort Winnebago?”

“At the Portage! oh! yes—­one can never walk out for them—­rattle-snakes—­copper-heads—­all sorts!”

I am not naturally timid, but I must confess that the idea of the serpens sonnettes and the siffleurs was not quite a subject of indifference.