There was one among these young ladies whose tall, graceful figure, rich, blooming complexion, and dark, glancing eye, would have distinguished her in any drawing-room—­and another, whose gentle sweetness and cultivated taste made it a matter of universal regret that she was afterwards led to adopt the seclusion of a convent.

Captain Harney and his boat arrived in due time, and active preparations far the comfort of our journey commenced under the kind supervision of Mrs. Doty.  The mess-basket was stowed with good things of every description—­ham and tongue—­biscuit and plum-cake—­not to mention the substantiate of crackers, bread, and boiled pork, the latter of which, however, a lady was supposed to be too fastidious to think of touching, even if starving in the woods.

We had engaged three Canadian voyageurs to take charge of our tent, mess-basket, and matters and things in general.  Their business it was to be to cut the wood for our fires, prepare our meals, and give a helping hand to whatever was going forward.  A messenger had also been sent to the Kakalin, or rapids, twenty-one miles above, to notify Wish-tay-yun,[3] the most accomplished guide through the difficult passes of the river, to be in readiness for our service on a specified day.

In the mean time, we had leisure for one more party, and it was to be a “real Western hop.”  Everybody will remember that dance at Mrs. Baird’s.  All the people, young and old, that would be gathered throughout, or, as it was the fashion to express it, on Green Bay, were assembled.  The young officers were up from Fort Howard, looking so smart in their uniforms—­treasures of finery, long uncalled forth, were now brought to light—­everybody was bound to do honor to the strangers by appearing in their very best.  It was to be an entertainment unequalled by any given before.  All the house was put in requisition for the occasion.  Desks and seats were unceremoniously dismissed from Mr. B.’s office, which formed one wing, to afford more space for the dancers.  Not only the front portion of the dwelling, but even the kitchen was made fit for the reception of company, in case any primitive visitor, as was sometimes the case, should prefer sitting down quietly there and smoking his cigar.  This was an emergency that, in those days, had always to be provided for.

Nothing could exceed the mirth and hilarity of the company.  No restraint, but of good manners—­no excess of conventionalities—­genuine, hearty good-humor and enjoyment, such as pleasant, hospitable people, with just enough of the French element to add zest to anything like amusement, could furnish, to make the entertainment agreeable.  In a country so new, and where, in a social gathering, the number of the company was more important than the quality, the circle was not always, strictly speaking, select.

I was aware of this, and was therefore more amused than surprised when a clumsy little man, with a broad, red, laughing face, waddled across the room to where I had taken my seat after a dance, and thus addressed me: