I did not much like the angry swell upon the water, but the poor creature was in such grief that I told her, if she was not afraid of venturing with me, I would try and put her over.

She expressed her thanks in the warmest terms, accompanied by a shower of blessings; and I took the paddles and went down to the landing.  Jenny was very averse to my “tempting Providence,” as she termed it, and wished that I might get back as safe as I went.  However, the old woman launched the canoe for me, pushed us from the shore, and away we went.  The wind was in my favour, and I found so little trouble in getting across that I began to laugh at my own timidity.  I put the girl on shore, and endeavoured to shape my passage home.  But this I found was no easy task.  The water was rough, and the wind high, and the strong current, which runs through that part of the lake to the Smith rapids, was dead against me.  In vain I laboured to cross this current; it resisted all my efforts, and at each repulse I was carried farther down towards the rapids, which were full of sunken rocks, and hard for the strong arm of a man to stem—­to the weak hand of a woman their safe passage was impossible.  I began to feel rather uneasy at the awkward situation in which I found myself placed, and for some time I made desperate efforts to extricate myself, by paddling with all my might.  I soon gave this up, and contented myself by steering the canoe in the path that it thought fit to pursue.  After drifting down with the current for some little space, until I came opposite a small island, I put out all my strength to gain the land.  In this I fortunately succeeded, and getting on shore, I contrived to drag the canoe so far round the headland that I got her out of the current.  All now was smooth sailing, and I joyfully answered old Jenny’s yells from the landing, that I was safe, and would join her in a few minutes.

This fortunate manoeuvre stood me in good stead upon another occasion, when crossing the lake, some weeks after this, in company with a young female friend, during a sudden storm.

Two Indian women, heavily laden with their packs of dried venison, called at the house to borrow the canoe, to join their encampment upon the other side.  It so happened that I wanted to send to the mill that afternoon, and the boat could not be returned in time without I went over with the Indian women and brought it back.  My young friend was delighted at the idea of the frolic, and as she could both steer and paddle, and the day was calm and bright, though excessively warm, we both agreed to accompany the squaws to the other side, and bring back the canoe.

Mrs. Muskrat has fallen in love with a fine fat kitten, whom the children had called “Buttermilk,” and she begged so hard for the little puss, that I presented it to her, rather marvelling how she would contrive to carry it so many miles through the woods, and she loaded with such an enormous pack; when, lo! the squaw took down the bundle, and, in the heart of the piles of dried venison, she deposited the cat in a small basket, giving it a thin slice of the meat to console it for its close confinement.  Puss received the donation with piteous mews; it was evident that mice and freedom were preferred by her to venison and the honour of riding on a squaw’s back.