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eye never lost her, though I was crafty in the espionage. I noticed that another watched her as closely as I the young officer whose feet followed her motions as boldly as his eye. He certainly has many charms-a fine head and face, orientally dark and flashing, and a manly, graceful figure. But his most eloquent charm was a wounded Who would not willingly suffer the pang of bullet and surgical knife, to win glances so dewy with approval? Miss Estelle has no lukewarm patriotism. To her the United States soldier is the champion of a great idea, the hero of a noble crusade. But this young officer! Were those looks only for the military hero? Did no sweet personal emotion mingle with the undisguised interest? He seems to be intimate in the family, and has probably frequent access to her

society. A young woman might easily be magnetized by his Eastern eyes. They looked well this evening, as they stood together; his handsome head bent slightly as she looked up, sending the light of her smile into his face. As I watched them, I became convinced of a fact that I have mocked at and denied, viz., that I loved her utterly, and that to live for, or without her were the only prospects that lay in the perspective of my future-a lifelong happiness or a lifelong sorrow. But I will cast the madness from me, at whatever cost. In the meantime, I will procure a likeness of myself, also one of the handsome officer. They shall hang side by side, and I will make the contrast a constant study. A good sedative, this, for the imagination.

(To be continued.)

DARKNESS AND LIGHT.

I.

I SAW the Night prepare to mount the sky,
Yet watching till the Sun had left the throne.
To make her know that Day's great lord was gone,
A cloud beneath the West flashed signals high.
She threw her scouts abroad from zone to zone,
And drove her dusky steeds and chariot higher,
Quenching each cloud left by the Sun on fire;
And when her foe delays his rout to own,
Her first-born star urges the fleeing Day,

Then bids Night's ambushed companies advance,

Who rose in stately order, one by one,

Till all the squadrons bright afield had gone,

And with more signs of power filled heaven's expanse

Than he who at her coming fled away.

II.

Now Darkness reigns; Light's peer! God called thee Night With the same word wherewith He called Light Day;

And He himself hath said that He would stay.

In the thick darkness, though Himself be light.

No worlds on high to mortal vision roll
Till Night shows kindness to the lonesome earth;
Lonely no more, we straightway feel new birth
With the fraternity who gird the pole.
Sorrow comes over us, a deep-veiled Night;
Our Day is gone; but, wondering, we behold
Gateways that lead through mysteries untold,
And we who sat in darkness see great light.
Hail, endless Day! let there be Light! unfold
Night's orbs, lead through them, change our faith to sight.

MACKINAW.

FAR away to the northwest, between the great lakes Huron and Michigan, lies the pleasant island called by the redmen Michilimacinac, or the Sleeping Turtle. In that region also are found headlands known as the Sleeping Bear and the Sleeping Rabbit-names which indicate that the district was formerly, as now, a land of Drowsy-head, and filled with somnolent influences. The more valuable is it as a refuge for the overtasked brains and bodies of St. Louis and Chicago citizens, who, being always wide awake at home, need the perfect repose furnished at Mackinaw, where, unvexed by daily mail or telegram, they can fill their lungs with oxygen and their stomachs with whitefish.

There are many points of resemblance between Mackinaw and that other island of beauty which lies in Narraganset Bay-Aquidneck of the Indians, the Island of Rhodes of the Pilgrims, or Newport Island of to-day. Both were important commercial centres a hundred years ago, before the modern upstarts, New York and Chicago, were famous. Newport had a great trade with the West Indies and Africa, resting on rum and slavery; Mackinaw supplied all the frontier posts with Indian goods, cheap guns, shoddy blankets, glass beads, and whiskey; and to each place its ill-gotten wealth proved a delusion. Both islands are historical, and were the scene of solemn treaties and bloody battles; and after all their former glories, they are now supported by summer visitors and the fisheries. Both islands are beautiful in land and water views, in climate, and in atmosphere-the western island excelling in landscape, and the eastern in water-prospect. The population of each has remained the same for the last half century, and the people have in both places a slow, indifferent, sleepy character, unlike that of other American towns. In the words of the wise Fluel

len, "You shall find that the situations, look you, is both alike. There is a river in Macedon, and there is also, moreover, a river at Monmouth, and there is salmons in both.”

As we approach Mackinaw coming through the straits from Chicago, we see the resemblance which the island bears to a turtle sleeping on the calm water; but as the boat rounds to, and enters the little harbor round which the village is built, the likeness changes to that of an alligator's head, with the white cliffs representing the uncovered teeth of the monster.

As we step ashore, we are greeted with the pleasant smile of our host of the Mission House; and there, at the head of the pier, stands his omnibus, the same which we rode in twenty years ago, and apparently the same horses. Time deals gently with men and things in Mackinaw; and, thus reflecting, we arrive at the Mission House. The house has a pleasant seat, lying under the shelter of a limestone cliff covered with cedars, and looking out over a lawn upon the mile of water which separates this island from Bois Blanc and Round Island.

The house appears to be full, but we trust that Mr. Franks will be able to find us a room if we leave him to study the situation. There is no use in being in a hurry here: "Slow and easy" is the word. An interesting uncertainty pervades all arrangements. You order a carriage for 4 o'clock, it arrives at 6. You and your party wish to meet the sun upon the mountain-tops, and direct the stable-keeper to send the three saddle-horses known on the island, at 5 A. M. Two of them arrive just as the breakfast-bell is ringing; the third, having escaped to the woods, is no longer available. You engage a sailboat to be at the wharf at 9; at that hour you see its white sails three miles away. As to the meals, they come when

the cook pleases, and he generally takes a liberal margin of time. But time is of no consequence; our business here is to kill it, and we succeed; it dies, and makes no sign. It is this absence of law and order which makes the place so attractive to children; here they run wild, unvexed by rules of behavior or

manners.

We notice another peculiarity: nothing is in place; every thing is used for an unusual purpose. The stable-keeper has boats to let; the doctor deals in nets and fishing gear. We visit the fort, and find it deserted; entering by escalade through a rear sally-port, we find no garrison except a pig, who comes grunting a welcome which seems to say that it is long since he has seen the face of man. The only church on the island partakes of the same confusion, and is used for a wash-house. It is but fair to add, however, that the owner of the church offers it for its legitimate uses whenever a preacher shall be forthcoming; until that time, linen will be cleansed instead of souls.

He

• The hotel has a long piazza in front, where most of the company is to be found. They are chiefly from the western cities, though an occasional New Yorker may be noticed by the shortness of his coat-tails or the slenderness of his legs. If a Philadelphian, we see that the hereditary neatness of costume and primness of accost yet lingers in the land of the Quaker. Your Bostonian, again, affects the English style. clothes himself in rough garments, cultivates the long side-whisker, is pedestrian and sporting in his tastes, and if he appears on horseback his nag must be a trotter. The Western men, mostly coming originally from the Eastern States, show a mixture of the habits of all, though the New York type prevails. But in the West, the cities are less important than elsewhere, and exercise less social influence. The great agricultural population of the West, which feeds the nation, which furnished the armies that saved its life, and which must soon politically control it,-this population knows little and cares less for the vaga

.

ries of fashion. These people stay at

home on their farms, and are seldom seen at watering-places. So that the people we meet at Mackinaw, or on Lake Superior, are not plants of Western growth, but merely Eastern merchants and lawyers transplanted. So we see that the ladies here wear the chignon as large, and the train as sweeping, as you find them at Newport or Saratoga; while the men look like Broadway somewhat modified by the freedom of Western life-with some of the starch washed out by Lake Michigan.

We are told by Schoolcraft, "that wherever Missilimacinac is mentioned in the missionary letters or in early history, it is the ancient fort on the apex of the Michigan peninsula that is alluded to." There were two places called Mackinaw-" Old Mackinaw," on the south side of the straits, seven miles from the island, and "New Mackinaw." The first was settled by Father Marquette in 1671, and was for many years the metropolis of the Ojibwa and Ottawa nations, and the theatre of some of the most important events in Indian history previous to the arrival of the white

man.

In 1675, Father Marquette died, on his way back from Kaskaskia to his mission at Old Mackinaw, and his body was brought here for burial by the friendly Indians, great numbers of whom followed in their canoes; and the Catholic historian says, "Marquette reposes here as the guardian angel of the Ottawa missions." The bones of the pious father, however, were not suffered to rest; for when the post of Mackinaw was removed, about 1780, from the peninsula to the island, his remains were transferred to the old Catholic burial-ground in the village upon the island. There they remained till a property-question arose to agitate the church; the graveyard was disturbed, and the bones of Marquette, with others, were transferred to the Indian village of La Crosse, near L'Arbre Croche, Michigan. For many years after the burial of the good father, in 1675, Old Mackinaw was the headquar

ters of the Indian trade, being the gateway of commerce between the St. Lawrence and the Mississippi, and the rendezvous of trappers, traders, soldiers, missionaries, and Indians. There was a fort and a chapel, and here the Jesuits erected their first college in the Western country. The place passed into English hands from the French, with all the other Western posts, in 1760, by treaty; and in 1762 it was taken by the Indians by stratagem, and most of the garrison massacred; as is well told by Henry, one of the few survivors, who was brought over to the island by a friendly Indian, and hidden in a cave. When the English recovered the post, they removed it, for greater security, to the island, where it has since remained under the English and American Governments, and the old post, which better commands the straits, abandoned. This removal was made about 1780, and "New Mackinaw," as it was called for a long time, became the great centre of the fur-trade. It was ceded to the United States in 1793, was retaken by the English in 1812, was unsuccessfully attacked by the Americans the next year, and was finally restored to them by the treaty of Ghent in 1814.

The island in former times had a bad reputation with the Indians, as being the resort of giants and evil spirits, whose principal abode was in a cave in the high rock upon which the fort stands, the entrance to which was said by the medicine-men to be right under the south gate, or sally-port. After the occupation by the white men, these spirits disappeared, driven away, perhaps, by the more potent spirits of the white medicine-man, known as Red-Eye and Forty-Rod Whiskey.

In the fortification which crowns the bluff, and is called Fort Mackinac, there is a curious mixture of frontier-post and old-world castle. Thick walls of limestone crawl along the cliffs and scale the rocks, leading to sally-ports defended by cannon; while at the angles of the work, blockhouses of logs stand loopholed for musketry, and stockaded against Indian attack. The fort is a

very picturesque object, and a specimen of a mountain fastness, perhaps unique in this country; but as a fort, in the modern meaning of the term, it is probably of little value. A monitor, with a ten-inch gun, would make short work of it; besides which, it is commanded by a hill in the middle of the island, by the possession of which the British took it in 1812, having dragged a couple of guns up in the night, which rendered the fort untenable. They built an earthwork on this hill which they called Fort George, and after the rendition of the island to the Americans, the name was changed to Fort Holmes, in memory of Major Holmes, of the United States Army, who fell in the attack upon it under the command of Colonel Croghan.

Our hotel, the Mission House, has a name which is significant and historical. It was built for a Protestant Mission by the General Association of Connecticut, who established it here in 1802, and sent Mr. Daniel Bacon as a missionary to the Indians in this region. The worthy man did not meet with much success, however, the reply of the redmen to his germon being, "Brother, your religion is very good, but it is only good for white people. It will not do for Indians." The mission was continued until 1837, when it was abandoned, and the mission-house and church were sold.

Protestant missions seem to be valued in proportion to their distance from the parent churches. If in India or Patagonia, the money flows freely in for their support. When Mackinaw was one thousand miles away from the settlements, the mission was worthy of support; but now that it is practically at our own door, and would benefit the white heathen, it is abandoned.

The climate of the island is very salubrious. The air is pure and bracing, so that persons who, in St. Louis or Chicago, hardly find energy to cross the street, are here able to walk over the hills for miles. The temperature is uniform, owing to its insular position: a record of the thermometer kept in

July and August, 1865, gives 78° as the highest figure at noon, and 60° as the lowest. The walks and drives are pleasant, winding through the thick woods which cover the interior of the island, it being a pile of limestone, about three miles in diameter. The variety of trees is great, almost all, in fact, which grow in this latitude being found here, though the cedar is most abundant, covering every rocky eminence, in great size and beauty. Flowers abound in the woods, such as the twin-flower, yellow lady-slipper, Linnea, Louicera, Cyno-glossum; and the Epigea, or Mayflower, supposed by some enthusiasts to be peculiar to Plymouth woods, is here in great beauty.

All the navigation of Lake Michigan passes in sight of this place; the steamers going through the channel between Round Island and Mackinaw, and most of the sail-vessels taking the south channel, between Bois Blanc and the Michigan shore.

What this lake navigation is, few persons have an idea; but before the Rebellion it was equal in amount to half the commerce of the United States, and for the last five years this internal navigation has constantly increased, while the foreign trade has fallen off. The Chicago Tribune for August 26, 1867, records the arrival at that port, on the day previous, of eighteen steamers and one hundred and sixty-five sailvessels; a larger number, it is thought, than will often be found to have arrived even at New York in a single day. A record kept at Mackinaw of vessels passing through the straits for six months, ending September 30, 1859, in the daytime, gives

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The village of Mackinaw consists of two streets of old frame-houses, many of them built early in the century; a few stores and old warehouses, the latter representing the palmy days of the fur-trade, now passed away, and the former dealing in the goods needed by a small population of fishermen and half-breeds-with Indian curiosities and New York millinery for the summer visitors.

One of these which we noticed, with smart-looking clerks behind the counter, seemed to be the favorite resort of the young ladies from the hotels, who beguiled the long hours of summer by the purchase of bark canoes and Stuart's candy, by ascertaining by scale their daily increase in weight in this wholesome air, varied by flirtations with the island-beaux, just to keep themselves in practice, probably. These were merely the amusements, the serious business of the day being walks to the Arched Rock or the Lover's Leap, rides to those remoter points, Fort Holmes and the British Landing, or in sailing about the straits,-virtue, in this case, bringing its own reward, in a keener appetite for the trout and white-fish, the strawberries and raspberries, of the Mission House table. We mention these as the indigenous and native viands-all things else eatable being brought from Detroit or Chicago by steamer.

And here let us say a word of those fishes of the great lakes, the white-fish and trout, often eaten by travellers, but seldom in perfection; and to which, consequently, justice has not been done. The first of these is, when fresh and in good condition, a delicious fish, everywhere; similar in delicacy to the Connecticut river shad, but with fewer bones, and a higher flavor. The fish which it most resembles is, we think, a fresh-caught blue-fish-and, like it, the white-fish should be broiled. When kept for a day or two on ice, as is the case with most of those found in the lake-cities, the flavor and delicacy are wholly lost. Even at Mackinaw you seldom get them in perfection at the hotels, as the purveyors for those houses

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