They were six gay-hearted, merry fellows, lightening their labor with their pipe and their songs, in which latter they would have esteemed it a great compliment to be joined by the ladies who listened to them; but our hearts, alas! were now too heavy to participate in their enjoyment.
The Fourth of July, the day on which we left our home, was a gloomy one indeed to those who departed and to the one left behind.

Who knew if we should ever meet again?
The experience which some of the circle had had in Indian warfare was such as to justify the saddest forebodings.

There was not even the consolation of a certainty that this step would secure our safety.

The Sauks might, possibly, be on the other side of us, and the route we were taking might perhaps, though not probably, carry us into their very midst.

It was no wonder, then, that our leave-taking was a solemn one--a parting which all felt might be for this world.
Not _all_, however; for the gay, cheerful Frenchmen laughed and sang and cracked their jokes, and "assured Monsieur John that they would take Madame John and Madame Alum safe to the bay, spite of Sauks or wind or weather." Thus we set out on our journey.