Mrs.
Doty received us with such true, sisterly kindness, and everything seemed so full of welcome, that we soon felt ourselves at home.
We found that, expecting our arrival, invitations had already been prepared to assemble the whole circle of Green Bay society to meet us at an evening party--this, in a new country, being the established mode of doing honor to guests or strangers.
We learned, upon inquiry, that Captain Harney, who had kindly offered to come with a boat and crew of soldiers from Fort Winnebago, to convey us to that place, our destined home, had not yet arrived; we therefore felt at liberty to make arrangements for a few days of social enjoyment at "the Bay." It was pleasant to people, secluded in such a degree from the world at large, to bear all the news we had brought--all the particulars of life and manners--the thousand little items that the newspapers of that day did not dream of furnishing--the fashions, and that general gossip, in short, which a lady is erroneously supposed more _au fait_ of, than a gentleman.
I well remember that, in giving and receiving information, the day passed in a pretty uninterrupted stream of communication.

All the party except myself had made the journey, or rather voyage, up the Fox River and down the Wisconsin to the Mississippi.
There were plenty of anecdotes of a certain trip performed by the three, in company with a French trader and his two sisters, then making their debut as Western travellers.

The manner in which Mademoiselle Julie would borrow, without leave, a fine damask napkin or two, to wipe out the ducks in preparation for cooking--the difficulty of persuading either of the sisters of the propriety of washing and rinsing their table apparatus nicely before packing it away in the mess-basket, the consequence of which was, that another nice napkin must be stealthily whisked out, to wipe the dishes when the hour for meals arrived--the fun of the young gentleman in hunting up his stray articles, thus misappropriated, from the nooks and corners of the boat, tying them with a cord, and hanging them over the stern, to make their way down the Wisconsin to Prairie du Chien.
Then there was a capital story of M.Rolette himself.

At one point on the route (I think in crossing Winnebago Lake) the travellers met one of the Company's boats on its way to Green Bay for supplies.

M.Rolette was one of the agents of the Company, and the people in the boat were his employes.