Amphitheatre, the Grand Portal, the Cascades, � all. The
boat plashes gaily onwards. Sail The rock. fog still rests on the shores as
we win our way westwards. �Tis now all purple tinged, and fantas-
tically beautiful to gaze upon. It rests on the lower parts of the cliff,
enshrouding the, while their summits rise above it in a long, broken
varied line. The water looks now darkly blue black. Grand Island
on our right. A large, well treed isle, at which at the sun-
set, or a little later we stop to �wood�. Two planking pieces
are projected out, at inequal angles, for the logs to be rolled
adown. I, Swan, Lewis, (Fort Huron, man, connected with
a paper there) and others ramble out amid ferns and thickets.
In the isle has lived for 15 years one Abraham Williams, an
old fellow, with wife, daughters and folk. Rumors there are that
he committed some amiable indiscretion in the way of murder, and
came hither to scape from the grip of Father Antic, but nothing
tangible is known. He�s taciturn in talk, saying nought of his
orgin. Owns 2000 ares, cultivates but little, and wont sell.
Two of his daughters were visited by some of our party, and they
were described as comely, lady-like women with well-attired, and
with books in the room. Back to the boat, and aboard.
Lewis�s description of the fishing at the Saut St Marie, by
the Indians. In the rapids with nets. Portages a feature
of these lakes. It implies an distraction, necessitating carrying the
boat or canoe across. The canal at the Saut, recently com-
menced will be completed in years twain. The �Sam Ward�
had to be carried over. Evening part in writing and talk till 11,
then to bed.