The Greenville journal. [volume] (Greenville, Ohio) 1850-1918, 1916-08-31

talk freely, and to boast Of his ex-
ploits and adventures. yet he refrained
from laying hand on me, nor did he
once refer to the incident of the blum.
Nor was the journey lacking In in
tereSt or adventure. Never shall
forget the charm of those days and
nights, amid which we made slow and
toilsome passage through the desolate
wilderness, ever gaining new leagues
to the westward. Only twice in weeks
did we encounter human beings-Once
a camp Of Indians on the shore Of a
lake, and once a Capuchin monk, alone
but for a single voyageur as COM
panion, passed us upon the river. And
when, at last. we made the long por-
tage, tramping through the dark for
est aisles, bearing on our shoulders
heavy loads, scarcely able to see the
sun even at midday through the leafy
screen Of leaves. and came forth at
twilight on the shores of the mighty
lake, no words can express the rap
lures with which | stood and gazed
across that eXpanse Of heaving, rest
less water. The men launched their
canoes upon the surface and made
camp in the edge of the forest, but
could not move, could not restrain
my eyes, until darkness descended and
left all before me a void.
1t was scarcely more than daybreak
when we broke camp and headed our
canoes out into the lake. With the
dawn, and the CLINT Of sunlight over
the waters, much Of my dread depart
ed, and could appreciate the wild
song of delight with which our Indian
paddlers bent to their work. The
sharp-prowed canoes swept through
the waters swiftly, no longer battling
against a current, and the shore line
ever in view was fascinating in its
green foliage. We kept close to the
northern shore, and soon found pas
sage amid numerous islands. forest
covered, but with high, rocky outlines.
For four days we cOasted thus, never
out Of sight of shore, and usually with
islands between us and the main body
Of water. In all that time we had no
sign of man-not even wisp Of
smoke, nor heard the crack Of distant
rife. About us extended loneliness
and desolation, great waters never
still, vast forests grim and somber,
tall, menacing rocks, bright-coIored in
the sun.
As last we left the chain of islands
behind, and one morning struck out
from the shore into the waste of wa
ters, the prows of the canoes turned
the steersman guiding our
course by the sun. For several hours
we were beyond view of land, with
naught to rest the eye upon save the
gray sea, and then, when it was nearly
night. we reached the shore and
beached our canoes at st. Ignace.
So much had been said of st. Ignace,
and so long had the name been ia
miliar throughout New France, that
my first view Of the place brought
me Dltter. DISAPPOINTMENT.
The miserable little village was upon
a point of land, originally covered with
heavy growth of forest A bit of this
had been rudely cut, the rotting
stumps still standing. and from the
timber a dozen rough log houses had
been constructed facing the lake. A
few rods back, on slightly higher land.
was log chapel and a house. some
what more pretentious than the others,
in which the priests lodged. The whole
aspect of the place was peculiarly
desolate and depressing, facing that
vast waste of water, the black forest
shadows behind, and those rotting
stumps in the foreground.
Nor was our welcome one to make
the heart rejoice. Scarce a dozen per-
sons gathered at the beach to aid us
in making landing, rough engages
mostly, and not among them all face
familiar. 1t was only later, when
two priests from the mission came
hurrying forward, that we were greet
ed by cordial speech. These invited a
few Of us to become guests at the
mission house, and assigned the re-
of our party to vacant huts.
Cassion, Chevet and Pere AIlouez
me as l walked beside a
young priest up the beaten path, but
D'Artigny was left behind with the
men. l overheard Cassion order him
to remain, but he added some word
in lower voice, which brought a flush
IF anger into the younger mans face,
although he merely turned on his heel
without reply.
We remained at st. Ignace three
lays, busily engaged in repairing our
'anoes and rendering them fit for the
ong voyage yet before US. From this
)oint we were to venture on treacher-
Dus waters, as yet scarcely explored,
he shores inhabited by savage, un-
Inown tribes, with not q white man
n all the long distance from Green
Bay to the Chicago portage. Once l |
got out the map and traced the dis
ance, feeling sick at heart as | thus
more clearly the weary jour-
icy.
Those were dull, lonely days | |
passed in the desolate mission house,
While the others were busy at their
'arious tasks. Only at night time, or
IS they struggled in to their meals, did |
see anyone but Pere Allouez, who |
vas always close at hand, a silent
hadOw from whose presence could
lot escape. l visited the priests gar
len, climbed the rocks overlooking
he water and even ventured into the
lark forest, but he was ever beside
ne, suave but insistent on doing his
masters will. The only glimpse had
+ D'Artigny was at a distance, for