The whole picture completed, showed the perfect outline that had given the island its original Indian name, _Mich-i-li-mack-i-nac_, the Big Turtle.
Then those pure, living waters, in whose depths the fish might be seen gliding and darting to and fro; whose clearness is such that an object dropped to the bottom may be discerned at the depth of fifty or sixty feet, a dollar lying far down on its green bed, looking no larger than a half dime! I could hardly wonder at the enthusiastic lady who exclaimed: "Oh! I could wish to be drowned in these pure, beautiful waters!" As we passed the extreme western point of the island, my husband pointed out to me, far away to the northwest, a promontory which he told me was Point St.Ignace.It possessed great historic interest, as one of the earliest white settlements on this continent.

The Jesuit missionaries had established here a church and school as early as 1607, the same year in which a white settlement was made at St.Augustine, in Florida, and one year before the founding of Jamestown, Virginia.
All that remains of the enterprises of these devoted men, is the remembrance of their labors, perpetuated, in most instances, only by the names of the spots which witnessed their efforts of love in behalf of their savage brethren.

The little French church at Sandwich, opposite Detroit, alone is left, a witness of the zeal and self-sacrifice of these pioneers of Christianity.
Passing "Old Mackinac," on the main land, which forms the southern border of the straits, we soon came out into the broad waters of Lake Michigan.

Every traveller, and every reader of our history, is familiar with the incidents connected with the taking of the old fort by the Indians, in the days of Pontiac.

How, by means of a game of ball, played in an apparently friendly spirit outside the walls, and of which the officers and soldiers had come forth to be spectators, the ball was dexterously tossed over the wall, and the savages rushing in, under pretext of finding it, soon got possession and massacred the garrison.
The little Indian village of L'Arbre Croche gleamed far away south, in the light of the setting sun.