CHAPTER II.
MICHILIMACKINAC.
Michilimackinac! that gem of the Lakes! How bright and beautiful it looked as we walked abroad on the following morning! The rain had passed away, but had left all things glittering in the light of the sun as it rose up over the waters of Lake Huron, far away to the east.

Before us was the lovely bay, scarcely yet tranquil after the storm, but dotted with canoes and the boats of the fishermen already getting out their nets for the trout and whitefish, those treasures of the deep.

Along the beach were scattered the wigwams or lodges of the Ottawas who had come to the island to trade.

The inmates came forth to gaze upon us.

A shout of welcome was sent forth, as they recognized _Shaw-nee-aw-kee,_ who, from a seven years' residence among them, was well known to each individual.
A shake of the hand, and an emphatic "_Bon-jour_--_bon-jour_," is the customary salutation between the Indian and the white man.
"Do the Indians speak French ?" I inquired of my husband.
"No; this is a fashion they have learned of the French traders during many years of intercourse." Not less hearty was the greeting of each Canadian _engage_, as he trotted forward to pay his respects to "Monsieur John," and to utter a long string of felicitations, in a most incomprehensible _patois_.