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Fuller, S. M. (Sarah Margaret), 1810-1850

"Summer on the Lakes, in 1843"

The people in its streets, Indian, French,
half-breeds, and others, walked with a leisure step, as of those who
live a life of taste and inclination, rather than of the hard press of
business, as in American towns elsewhere.
On the other side, along the fair, curving beach, below the white houses
scattered on the declivity, clustered the Indian lodges, with their
amber brown matting, so soft, and bright of hue, in the late afternoon
sun. The first afternoon I was there, looking down from a near height, I
felt that I never wished to see a more fascinating picture. It was an
hour of the deepest serenity; bright blue and gold, rich shadows. Every
moment the sunlight fell more mellow. The Indians were grouped and
scattered among the lodges; the women preparing food, in the kettle or
frying-pan, over the many small fires; the children, half-naked, wild as
little goblins, were playing both in and out of the water. Here and
there lounged a young girl, with a baby at her back, whose bright eyes
glanced, as if born into a world of courage and of joy, instead of
ignominious servitude and slow decay. Some girls were cutting wood, a
little way from me, talking and laughing, in the low musical tone, so
charming in the Indian women. Many bark canoes were upturned upon the
beach, and, by that light, of almost the same amber as the lodges.
Others, coming in, their square sails set, and with almost arrowy speed,
though heavily laden with dusky forms, and all the apparatus of their
household.


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