at Marquette, then a village of a few hundred inhabitants, in due time. Here we met S. S. Robinson, who was then superintendent of a group of small mines lying along the range a few miles east of Lake Gogebic, owned and operated by the North American Mining Company.

At this time there was no breakwater at Marquette, and but one small dock or pier where boats could land.

Having discharged the Marquette freight, we again set sail, and, passing the Huron islands, we rounded Keweenaw point and made our next landing at Eagle River, then a flourishing village second in business and population to the settlements then existing along the south shore of Lake Superior. Here a long pier extended from the shore out into the lake to a point of safety for the landing of boats drawing not over 12 feet of water.

The Pittsburg & Boston, or, as more commonly known, the old Cliff mine, was located about two miles from this point, and was then in a most prosperous condition. It was this industry that gave to Eagle River its flourishing condition at that time. It was here I first saw native copper as mined on Lake Superior. Huge masses, cut into convenient sizes for handling, weighing from three to seven tons, lay piled on the shore awaiting shipment to the smelting works.

After discharging cargo for several hours, during which time many of the passengers "tramped" back to the Cliff and viewed the mine, we all went on board again, and the old Baltimore steamed back to Eagle Harbor, a distance of about five miles. The captain had gone to Eagle River first, as the weather was calm and he could effect a landing. Eagle Harbor is a small land-locked bay with a narrow, intricate entrance channel (since improved), lying between abrupt rockbound shores. We made the entrance safely, and after discharging cargo started out for Ontonagon, but were not so fortunate in getting out. The boat became stranded on the outer rocks, where she was exposed and in great danger from any seas coming from the lake; but fortunately there was almost a dead calm until we got afloat again about six hours later.

There was no way of getting relief from the outside, so after an ineffectual attempt to "wasp" her off by means of lines attached to anchors and worked from the boat's capstands, the order was given to "lighten freight," and all hands-crew and male passengers--went to work loading all kinds of freight, such as barrels and boxes, that could be easily handled, into the yawl and life-boats, and landing it upon the nearest beach. The unloading went on for about two hours, when the boat slid

off the rocks and was again afloat; then the tedious task of reloading the freight by small boats was gone through with, and we were under way once more, but not in the direction of Ontonagon. The captain found his boat was taking water in the hold and ran back to Agate Harbor under the pretense that he needed more fuel. Arriving there, we tied up to trees alongside a bold shore, where there was sufficient depth of water to allow the boat to lay where an ordinary gang plank reached from boat to shore, and a few of the deck hands were put to toting on wood, while the captain and most of the crew overhauled the freight in the hold and got at the leak.

The passengers strolled through the woods and engaged in a game of snowball, a novelty for them in the early days of June.

The captain found that when the boat first struck the rocks the planking was shivered though not broken for a space of about two feet long and ten inches wide, and she was taking considerable water.

How to repair the damage so that he could safely proceed on his voyage was a serious question to Captain Ryder, but with his years of experience as a pioneer sailor upon Lakes Huron and Superior, he was not long in devising a way out of the difficulty.

He took woolen blankets from the beds and cut them into pieces sufficiently large to cover and overlap by a margin of two inches on all sides the shivered planking. Then taking from the cargo a few kegs of white lead, he put a thick layer of lead over each square of the blanketing until he had prepared ten or twelve layers. These alternate layers of blanket and lead were placed together and covered with a two-inch plank. Cedar props were cut from the adjoining woods and taken aboard and fitted to proper lengths. Everything being in readiness, the patch was placed over the shivered part, the props, with one end resting on the plank covering the patch, and the other end against one of the cross timbers forming the deck above, were driven to a perpendicular position, and the leak so effectually stopped that the boat was run for three seasons following without further repairs. All this was done without the passengers' knowledge, and it only came to my knowledge several years afterwards, by Captain Ryder telling it to one of the passengers who was on board that trip.

We left Agate Harbor late in the afternoon, and the next morning found us at anchor one-half mile off the shore from Ontonagon. At that time boats could not enter the mouth of Ontonagon river. The sea was too

heavy to launch the yawl or bring out a lighter, but by eleven that morning it had calmed down sufficiently to launch the yawl and the passengers were taken ashore. There were several oxen and horses on board, which were plunged from the deck of the boat into the ice-cold water. They made a landing on the beach where they were caught, blanketed, and run into warm stables. Freight was at that time landed by means of lighters, poled by native Indians out and in through the mouth of the river to where the boats lay. Ontonagon was then the metropolis of all of the Lake Superior settlements.

Having described our trip of three weeks' duration that now requires only as many days to make, and having, I fear, wearied your patience, I will close.

THE LEGEND OF THE INDIAN SUMMER.

MARY E. CHAMBERLAIN.*

There is a beautiful tradition of the Indians in the poet lore of that fast vanishing race relating to the coming of those marvelous days, the aftermath of the summer, which crown the year with a fair, fleeting glory, a dream-like beauty, evanescent and lovely beyond compare. The legend runs like this:

High up in the heavens the Sun-god, he whose symbol is the white bird Wakehon, looked down upon the earth one day, smiling to see how well he had finished his labors of the year. Now the Sun-god is not the One-Ta-ren-ya-wa-go, Holder of the Heavens; no, he is only the Manito of the sun which, as we know, is the heart of the sky. He is fat and fair and lazy; then also he sometimes is very cross and out of temper, and at such times earth, sky, air, and water all feel his frowns. Often, however, he is good humored; and then it is that all things rejoice in his smiles. But looking down this day and seeing all so well done-all the grain ripened and gathered, all the fruit perfected and stored, the meadows lying tranquil, the forests still and peaceful, the game abundant, then it was that the Manito grew restive and bethought himself that he was much in need of a respite from such exceedingly good behavior-of which he sometimes grew very tired.

He was not much given to thinking, because he was fat and lazy, but now he set himself to it to find some speedy way of indulging such mischevious pranks as he felt disposed. The better to help his meditations he filled and lighted his great calumet, his mighty peace-pipe, that should not have been smoked except in the council lodge, and so sat down to his musings. After a long time he hit upon a plan that filled him with glee.

"Aha!" he cried, "I will get me up and away into the far, frozen Northland where my brother Peboan (the winter) reigns, and I will help him strip these forests, still these rivers, and send the icy blasts sweeping over the great lakes and waters, drifting the powdery snow through the villages and piling it high about the wigwams. I'll nip the hunter's fingers and make the old men cower over the coals and the women and children wail in the storm. It will be rare sport to see my brother Seegwan (the Spring) work till he sweats to repair my mischief-the lazy fellow!"

After this, overcome by the labor of thinking out things for himself to which he was not accustomed, and besides being still surfeited with the great feast of the Medway that was held but lately in the month of the Sturgeon when all the fruits and grains, the game and fish are most abundant and delicious, the lazy Sun-god failed to note the sly approach of Weeng, the Spirit of Sleep, who with his many hued pinions came fluttering softly in the air with a gentle, murmuring noise that in time stole away the senses of the Manito, and while not at all meaning to linger he yet drifted away into peaceful slumber. Then, as he thus slept, summer gaily tarried, flaunting her most vivid colors in the very face of the stupid Sun-god; the waters laughed softly, the winds murmured in gentle undertone, all things in nature conspiring together to laugh at and mock him, yet always so quietly as not to disturb his slumbers.

* Mrs. Mary E. Chamberlain, Vice-president for Muskegon county, is a native of the State of New York, but came to Muskegon, Mich., in the early "seventies," where she now resides. Mrs. Chamberlain is an artist of ability, excelling in the painting of marine subjects; she is interested in historical study and has done some good work along that line in her writings for different publications, and with pen and brush has won for herself an enviable reputation.

While he dreams the smoke from his great peace-pipe fills the air-you see it resting on the far hills and craggy uplands in a purple haze, there in the still valleys, there on the quiet waters and over all the landscape like a shimmering veil. And not till his mighty calumet is smoked out to its very latest spark will the fat and lazy Manito awake. This then is the Indian Summer.

THE LEGEND OF THE SHOOTING STAR-THE WAKENDENDAS. AN INDIAN IDYL.

From the twilight skies a pale star looked down with wistful longing upon the beautiful, green earth. All about it its brother and sister stars were bright and happy and in bands sported together upon the measureless shining plain in which they lived, or collected thickly along the broad road which is the pathway of the ghosts* in their journey to the far-off country of souls, the spi-men-kah,-wi-u, the fair land above.

But this one star was alone in heaven and sorrowful with longing. It turned away from the soft light of the moon, when she walked forth adown the broad heavens, and shuddered when the sun, the bright Heart of the Sky, flung wide the gates for the beautiful Wabun, the Dawn-Maiden. Fairer under the light of the young moons or the bright shimmer of the sun seemed the lovely earth than all besides, and the still, green meadows, the cool, waving forests, the blue rivers softly flowing-all more blissful than the star-lodges yet in the sky.

Every night, when twilight fell, the star looked for its image reflected in a tranquil lake, set round with tall rushes and mighty forest trees whose wide arms interlaced-seeing with envy the Namagoosh (trout) and the sly Kenozha (pickerel) leaping in the sunlight or flashing in the moonlight, hearing the Dainda (frog) calling among the reeds and rushes-watching the bright Wawatossa (fire fly) flitting through the darkness above the softly whispering water. Every night, there, the loon cried to the echo hiding on the shadowy strand-the whip-poor-will answering clear and sweet in the far distance; there the wild geese stretched their lazy flight across quiet waves-plover piped from the sedges-the owl hooted far off in the lonely forest.

All through the long months of the moon while she walked the sky the star looked down upon that fair lake lying tranquil beneath it with waves flashing in soft undertone of happy secrets; it saw the coming of sweet blossoms in the bright Moon of Flowers (May) and how they crept close to the edge-saw the gentle fawns in the Month of Deer (July) come trooping down to drink of its cool waterslooking, watching, until now in the gray Month of the Beaver (November) the star had grown worn and pale-breathing its life away in sighs of longing.

Then it was that the great Master of Life, Ta-ren-ya-wa-go, Holder of the Heavens, saw with compassion and gave the star its wish because of his love which keeps all things within the circle of his arm.

So, slowly gently through the soft purple twilight, while Gushkewan, the Darkness, and his brother Weeng, the gentle Spirit of Sleep, hovered in the air, the star came drifting downward, floating-drifting-falling from the wide shining plains of heaven, the fair land above.

Through the forest a band of hunters came laden with game. Silently but quickly they traversed in unerring certainty the trackless solitudes. They knew that just beyond, not far away, the twinkling fires of their wigwams gleamed redly through the darkness, flaming upon the laughing children at play upon the smooth turf about the lodges, flashing from the glittering ornaments of the women as they moved about preparing the evening repast, shining redly upon the grave

The milky way.