Of course after an absence of some weeks from home, the meeting on these lonely waters and the exchanging of news was an occasion of great excitement.
The boats were stopped--earnest greetings interchanged--question followed question.
"_Eh bien_--have they finished the new house ?" "_Oui, Monsieur_." "_Et la cheminee, fume-t-elle ?_" (Does the chimney smoke ?) "_Non, Monsieur_." "And the harvest--how is that ?" "Very fine, indeed." "Is the mill at work ?" "Yes, plenty of water." "How is Whip ?" (his favorite horse.) "Oh! Whip is first-rate." Everything, in short, about the store, the farm, the business of various descriptions being satisfactorily gone over, there was no occasion for farther delay.

It was time to proceed.
"_Eh bien--adieu! bon voyage!_" "_Arrachez, mes gens!_" (Go ahead, men!) Then suddenly--"_Arretez! arretez!_" (Stop, stop!) "_Comment se portent Madame Rolette et les enfans ?_" (How are Mrs.
Rolette and the children ?) * * * * * This day, with its excitement, was at length over, and we retired to our rest, thankful that we had not General Root and his secretary close to our bed's head, with their budget of political news.
My slumbers were not destined, however, to be quite undisturbed.

I was awakened, at the first slight peep of dawn, by a sound from an apartment beneath our own--a plaintive, monotonous chant, rising and then falling in a sort of mournful cadence.

It seemed to me a wail of something unearthly--so wild--so strange--so unaccountable.

In terror I awoke my husband, who reassured me by telling me it was the morning salutation of the Indians to the opening day.
Some Menomonees had been kindly given shelter for the night in the kitchen below, and, having fulfilled their unvarying custom of chanting their morning hymn, they now ceased, and again composed themselves to sleep.