CHAPTER XXI.
A SERMON.
Chicago was not, at the period of my first visit, the cheerful, happy place it had once been.

The death of Dr.Wolcott, of Lieutenant Furman, and of a promising young son of Mr.Beaubien, all within a few weeks of each other, had thrown a gloom over the different branches of the social circle.
The weather, too, was inclement and stormy beyond anything that had been known before.

Only twice, during a period of two months, did the sun shine out through the entire day.

So late as the second week in April, when my husband had left to return to Fort Winnebago, the storms were so severe that he and his men were obliged to lie by two or three days in an Indian lodge.
Robert Kinzie, Medard Beaubien, and Billy Caldwell had gone at the same time to the Calumet to hunt, and, as they did not make their appearance for many days, we were persuaded they had perished with cold.

They returned at length, however, to our infinite joy, having only escaped freezing by the forethought of Robert and Caldwell in carrying each two blankets instead of one.
Our only recreation was an occasional ride on horseback, when the weather would permit, through the woods on the north side of the river, or across the prairie, along the lake shore on the south.
When we went in the former direction, a little bridle-path took us along what is now Rush Street.