-in fact, quite in civilized style, Mr. Weeks, the
man who brought us across, was the major-domo, during the temporary
absence of Mr. Lawton.

Mrs. Lawton was a young woman, and not ill-looking. She complained
bitterly of the loneliness of her condition, and having been "brought
out there into the woods; which was a thing she had not expected, when
she came from the East." We did not ask her with what expectations she
had come to a wild, unsettled country; but we tried to comfort her with
the assurance that things would grow better in a few years. She said,
"She did not mean to wait for that. She should go back to her family in
the East, if Mr. Lawton did not invite some of her young friends to come
and stay with her, and make it agreeable."

We could hardly realize, on rising the following morning, that only
twelve miles of prairie intervened between us and _Chicago le Desire_,
as I could not but name it.

We could look across the extended plain, and on its farthest verge were
visible two tall trees, which my husband pointed out to me as the
planting of his own hand, when a boy. Already they had become so lofty
as to serve as landmarks, and they were constantly in view as we
travelled the beaten road. I was continually repeating to myself, "There
live the friends I am so longing to see! There will terminate all our
trials and hardships!"

A Mr. Wentworth joined us on the road, and of him we inquired after the
welfare of the family, from whom we had, for a long time, received no
intelligence. When we reached Chicago, he took us to a little tavern at
the forks of the river. This portion of the place was then called _Wolf
Point_, from its having been the residence of an Indian named
"_Moaway_," or "the Wolf."

"Dear me," said the old landlady, at the little tavern, "what dreadful
cold weather you must have had to travel in! Why, two days ago the river
was all open here, and now it's frozen hard enough for folks to cross
a-horseback!"

Notwithstanding this assurance, my husband did not like to venture, so
he determined to leave his horses and proceed on foot to the residence
of his mother and sister, a distance of about half a mile.

We set out on our walk, which was first across the ice, then down the
northern bank of the river. As we approached the house we were espied by
Genevieve, a half-breed servant of the family. She did not wait to
salute us, but flew into the house, crying,--

"Oh! Madame Kinzie, who do