How the poor animals shivered as they were reined in among the floating ice!  And we, who sat waiting in the piercing wind, were not much better off.  Probably Brunet was of the same opinion; for, with his usual perversity, he plunged in immediately after Plante, and stood shaking and quaking behind him, every now and then looking around him, as much as to say, “I’ve got ahead of you, this time!” We were all across at last, and spurred on our horses, until we reached Hawley’s[19]—­a large, commodious dwelling, near the east fork of the river.

The good woman welcomed us kindly, and soon made us warm and comfortable.  We felt as if we were in a civilized land once more.  She proceeded immediately to prepare dinner for us; and we watched her with eager eyes, as she took down a huge ham from the rafters, out of which she cut innumerable slices, then broke a dozen or more of fine fresh eggs into a pan, in readiness for frying—­then mixed a johnny-cake, and placed it against a board in front of the fire to bake.  It seemed to me that even with the aid of this fine, bright fire, the dinner took an unconscionable time to cook; but cooked it was, at last, and truly might the good woman stare at the travellers’ appetites we had brought with us.  She did not know what short commons we had been on for the last two days.

We found, upon inquiry, that we could, by pushing on, reach Lawton’s, on the Aux Plaines, that night—­we should then be within twelve miles of Chicago.  Of course we made no unnecessary delay, but set off as soon after dinner as possible.

The crossing of the east fork of the Du Page was more perilous than the former one had been.  The ice had become broken, either by the force of the current, or by some equestrians having preceded us and cut through it, so that when we reached the bank, the ice was floating down in large cakes.  The horses had to make a rapid dart through the water, which was so high, and rushing in such a torrent, that if I had not been mounted on Jerry, the tallest horse in the cavalcade, I must have got a terrible splashing.

As it was, I was well frightened, and grasped both bridle and mane with the utmost tenacity.  After this we travelled on as rapidly as possible, in order to reach our place of destination before dark.

Mr. Dogherty, a tall, bolt-upright man, half Quaker, half Methodist, did his best to entertain me, by giving me a thorough schedule of his religious opinions, with the reasons from Scripture upon which they were based.  He was a good deal of a perfectionist, and evidently looked upon himself with no small satisfaction, as a living illustration of his favorite doctrine.

“St. John says,” this was the style of his discourse, “St. John says, ‘He that is born of God, doth not commit sin’ Now, if I am born of God, I do not commit sin.”

I was too cold and too weary to argue the point, so I let him have it all his own way.  I believe he must have thought me rather a dull companion; but at least he gave me the credit of being a good listener.