I have known whole congregations of Indians, good Indians,
ruined and brought to nothing by the opportunity of obtaining whisky as
often as they pleased."
We inquired whether the numbers of the people at the mission were
diminishing. She could not speak with much certainty as to this point,
having been only a year and a half at the mission, but she thought there
was a gradual decrease.
"The families of the Indians," she said, in answer to one of my
questions, "are small. In one family at the village are six children, and
it is the talk of all the Indians, far and near, as something
extraordinary. Generally the number is much smaller, and more than half
the children die in infancy. Their means would not allow them to rear many
children, even if the number of births was greater."
Such appears to be the destiny of the red race while in the presence of
the white - decay and gradual extinction, even under circumstances
apparently the most favorable to its preservation.
On Monday we left the Falls of St. Mary, in the steamer General Scott, on
our return to Mackinaw. There were about forty passengers on board, men in
search of copper-mines, and men in search of health, and travellers from
curiosity, Virginians, New Yorkers, wanderers from Illinois, Indiana,
Massachusetts, and I believe several other states. On reaching Mackinaw in
the evening, our party took quarters in the Mansion House, the obliging
host of which stretched his means to the utmost for our accommodation.
Mackinaw is at the present moment crowded with strangers; attracted by the
cool healthful climate and the extreme beauty of the place. We were packed
for the night almost as closely as the Potawottamies, whose lodges were on
the beach before us. Parlors and garrets were turned into sleeping-rooms;
beds were made on the floors and in the passages, and double-bedded rooms
were made to receive four beds. It is no difficult feat to sleep at
Mackinaw, even in an August night, and we soon forgot, in a refreshing
slumber, the narrowness of our quarters.
Letter XXXVII.
The Island of Mackinaw.
Steamer St. Louis, Lake Huron, _August_ 20, 1846.
Yesterday evening we left the beautiful island of Mackinaw, after a visit
of two days delightfully passed. We had climbed its cliffs, rambled on its
shores, threaded the walks among its thickets, driven out in the roads
that wind through its woods - roads paved by nature with limestone pebbles,
a sort of natural macadamization, and the time of our departure seemed to
arrive several days too soon.
The fort which crowns the heights near the shore commands an extensive
prospect, but a still wider one is to be seen from the old fort, Fort
Holmes, as it is called, among whose ruined intrenchments the half-breed
boys and girls now gather gooseberries.
