in entered Eden,

"Earth felt the wound; and nature from her seat,
Sighing through all her works, gave signs of woe
That all was lost."

They heard fearful accounts of attacks by ferocious tribes rushing down
upon them, plundering, burning, killing, scalping, with mercilessness
which demons could not exceed. They were expecting soon another attack,
and were then upon the point of abandoning their homes and emigrating
to the other side of the Mississippi, to join, for their protection,
another large and friendly tribe.

Soon after Father Hennepin resumed his voyage, the Indians, according
to his narrative, had their suspicions excited that he was conveying
hatchets and guns to their enemies, either intentionally, or which
might fall into their hands. They therefore sent a band of their
swift-footed warriors down the river, to a narrow pass, to intercept
the canoe. This could hardly be considered contrary to the laws of
warfare among civilized nations. The Indians had witnessed the
lightnings and thunders of the white man's guns, and the terrible
energies of their death dealing-bolts. They might surely consider the
canoe as freighted with goods which were contraband of war.

We know not what reason Father Hennepin had for suspecting this
movement of the Indians. He gives no proof of any such hostile design.
It is not improbable that his suspicions were groundless. As he
approached the narrow pass where he imagined the warriors to lie in
ambush, he saw the smoke of the camp fires ascending from a grove which
crowned one of the eminences. This certainly did not indicate any
secret movement. He paddled close to the other side of the river, not
only without being attacked, but without obtaining even a glimpse of
his imagined foes.

On the 8th of March they reached the Mississippi River. The broad
flood, a mile in width, swept majestically along, from unknown regions
of the north, quite covered with floating ice. The vast masses, two or
three feet in thickness, and which could not be eluded, would speedily
tear their frail birch canoe into fragments. At the mouth of the
Illinois there was a gentle elevation, covered with the stately forest,
which commanded a fine view of both of the rivers and of the adjacent
region.

Here the Frenchmen drew their canoe upon the shore, erected a camp,
with open front, as a shelter from the cold north wind, built their
fire, cooked their game, of which they found abundance a