I had reason to expect a room to myself at the hotel, but found none,
and was obliged to take up my rest in the common parlor and eating-room,
a circumstance which ensured my being an early riser.
With the first rosy streak, I was out among my Indian neighbors, whose
lodges honey-combed the beautiful beach, that curved away in long, fair
outline on either side the house. They were already on the alert, the
children creeping out from beneath the blanket door of the lodge; the
women pounding corn in their rude mortars, the young men playing on
their pipes. I had been much amused, when the strain proper to the
Winnebago courting flute was played to me on another instrument, at any
one fancying it a melody; but now, when I heard the notes in their true
tone and time, I thought it not unworthy comparison, in its graceful
sequence, and the light flourish, at the close, with the sweetest
bird-songs; and this, like the bird-song, is only practised to allure a
mate. The Indian, become a citizen and a husband, no more thinks of
playing the flute than one of the "settled down" members of our society
would of choosing the "purple light of love" as dye-stuff for a surtout.
Mackinaw has been fully described by able pens, and I can only add my
tribute to the exceeding beauty of the spot and its position. It is
charming to be on an island so small that you can sail round it in an
afternoon, yet large enough to admit of long secluded walks through its
gentle groves.
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