the abduction to the fact that the Finch boys were supposed to have taken some Indian ponies. In retaliation the Indians are said to have stolen the boy.

THE INDIANS' RAID.

the fences,

troit to the

In the year 1812, while Elisha Harrington was occupying what is known as the Harrington farm, the Chippewas made a raid on the settlement. Dving into the village, whooping and flourishing their weapons, the savages disn. Junted, tying their horses to the trees of the old orchard at Frederick. Of course the Harringtons fled. The Indians in undisturbed possession gave themselves p to plunder and rapine, feasting and debauchery. They burned down the barn and other improvements. The surrender of the traitorous Hull at British and their savage allies suggested this sudden foray. Elated w th that victory, in which they claimed an equal share of glory with the British, hey moved simultaneously upon all the settlements in the district of Detroit, in precisely the same manner as they did on the old settlement at Frederick. It was a sad time for the American settlers. Added to the humiliation of that disgraceful and infamous and treacherous action of Hull, were the dangers of savage forays. Many families fled to Detroit for safety, and among the number was that of Elisha Harrington, fleeing for protection to the very center of the arch-enemy who prompted the Indians to take those inhuman measures.

The old orchard, where the savages secured their horses, may still be seen at Frederick, and the gnarled and ancient trees yet stand, bearing the marks of the gnawing teeth of those wild ponies, which browsed there, while their wilder masters were indulging in rapine and murder.

In 1817, Elisha Harrington returned to the home from which he was forced to flee, only to find it in possession of a dozen of Canadians. On stating his case those men moved to the present site of Utica village, where they settled.

INDIANS ON THE TRAIL OF AN AMERICAN.

The spirit breathed into the Indians of the Wyandot district by their British masters, from 1774 to the period when the British troops were driven from this land, was pregnant with danger to the American frontiersman, and even more so to him who happened to dwell within the lines of those who essayed to enslave us. This spirit is portrayed in one of the stories of the past, related by Edgar Weeks, and founded on facts elicited by him from the best authorities. It appears that one of the settlers, located east of the present city of Mt. Clemens, supposed to be a member of the Tuckar family, had offended the Indians in that neighborhood, which offense created much disaffection among the Indians, and drew down upon him their hatred. For days and weeks he followed his daily avocations with the full knowledge that the malignant eye of some forest demon watched all his move

ments and waited an opportunity to carry out their designs toward him. For this reason he was accustomed to carry his well-kept rifle on his shoulder, always ready for any emergency-always prepared to meet his foe. Notwithstanding the commission which the Indians received from the British, to take the scalp of every American who fell into their hands, it is believed a special order was given the chiefs to res ect the lives and properties of the Tuckar and Connor families; the former on account of services rendered by one of them in the Pontiac affair, the other on account of his usefulness as interpreter, politician, and trader. Therefore the Indians not only feared the man himself, but lived in greater dread of the law as propour d at Fort La Pontchairn in this connection. They dared not take the life of Tuc ar; but rather conspired to abduct him to the Sagenong, or great camp of the tri13, retain him in captivity, and expose him to those savage tests-those excesses of inhumanity, which the conquerors of the Sauks inflicted on enemies or imaginary enemies who fell into their hands. With the expulsion of the British, and the rise of the white man to his natural position, the demoniac enemies of Tuckar sunk their passions in their interest, and evinced a most friendly disposition toward this pioneer.

VISIT TO THE INDIAN VILLAGE.

Previous to the departure of the Hurons from Macomb County, it was certainly worth one's while to visit one of their villages. A Frenchman who visited them in 1808 or 1810 described their villages on the Clinton at that time. He says: "I remember one fine afternoon about ten years ago, accompanying an old Indian trader thither. Seated in a light canoe, and each armed with a paddle we started from the mouth of the river for the ostensible purpose of bartering with the Indians for furs, etc. For my part I was perfectly delighted with the idea, as I never had an opportunity hitherto of seeing the Indians at home, at least during the Summer season. The river was sufficiently agitated to cause our tiny boat to rock dreamily, and as we sped onwards the rich wavelets leaped and sported against our canoe's prow and sides, like sportive kittens, ever and anon greeting our faces with a damp paw, that was by no means unpleasant. On, on we sped, now under the shadow of the green woods, now by the fringed, rich border of the clearings, or by the grasscovered marsh. We could see from a bend in the river the Indian village, and hear the wild, joyous shouts of the dusky juveniles as they pursued their uncouth sports and games. As we approached their camp what a busy and exhilarating scene was presented to our view! I clapped my hands in the exuberance of my spirits, for never before had I witnessed a scene so full of real, unaffected natural happiness as there greeted my senses. My companion did not appear to share in my enthusiasm, owing, doubtless, to the fact that he was accustomed to such scenes. Little Indian boys and girls could be seen prowling around like little

Cupids-some wrestling, some shooting with tiny bows and arrows, some paddling their toy canoes, while others sported in the waters of the river like so many amphibia, each striving to excel the other in the manner and demonstration of its enjoyment.

Superannuated Indians and squaws sat by the tent-doors, looking on with a quiet, demure pleasure, or arranging some toy or trinket for a favorite little toddler, while the more efficient were engaged in various occupations. Oh how I longed for an artist's skill, that I might sketch the wild and picturesque scene. Here, thought I, is human nature in its free, untrammeled state. Care seemed to be a stranger to those children of Nature; no thought of sorrow seemed to engross their minds; and the world, with all its vicissitudes and vexations, was allowed to pass along unnoticed by them. Buoyancy of spirit was a striking feature in their character. As we drew our canoe out upon the beach, the Indians came forward to greet us, and with a hearty shake of the hand, wished us a cordial bon jour. The dusky urchins left their sports to take a full survey of the visitors; which having done, they returned to their games with a yelp and a bound.

Situated upon the greenest and most beautiful portion of the camp ground were a number of white and neat looking tents, which were closed, and isolated from the dingy, smoky tepees of the village. The trader, who seemed a sort of privileged character, was entirely at home; while I, considering myself among strangers, clung to him, and followed him wherever he went, not venturing to throw myself upon my own responsibility. I was therefore pleased when I saw him start toward the white tents, for I was curious to know what they contained. Drawing aside the canvas, he entered without ceremony, I, of course, following after. Seated upon beautiful mats of colored rushes, which served as carpets and divans, were some three or four good-looking squaws, very neatly and even richly attired in the fanciful style of the native, busily engaged in embroidering and ornamenting moccasins, broad-cloth leggings, and blankets with variegated beads and porcupine quills. Everything around evinced the utmost order, neatness and taste. No bustling nichee or dirty urchin was allowed the freedom of those apparently consecrated tents; but all was quiet and calm within; and if converse were carried on it was in that calm, soft, musical tone so peculiar to them. So, so, thought I, here we have a sort of aristocracy-a set of exclusives, and a specimen of high life among the natives; yet it was just that kind of high life in many respects, after which their white sisters might take pattern. No idle gossipping or scandal was indulged in; they quietly plied their needles, and kept their counsels to themselves. If they had occasion to visit their neighbors' tents it was done quietly and pleasantly, after which business was resumed.

This description of the Indian villages on the Reviere Aux Hurons, or Clinton

is based upon fact. Though the Wyandot or Huron is now far away from his olden land, his wife, or sister, or mother may look back with pride to their settlements by Lake St. Clair, and in charity wish that the new Americans there will be as happy their fathers were.

MANNERS AND CUSTOMS.

The art of hunting not only supplied the Indian with food, but, like that of war, was a means of gratifying his love for distinction. The male children, as soon as they acquired sufficient age and strength, were furnished with a bow and arrow and taught to shoot birds and other small game. Success in killing a large quadruped required years of careful study and practice, and the art was as sedulously inculcated in the minds of the rising generation as are the elements of reading, writing and arithmetic in the common schools of civilized communities. The mazes of the forest and the dense, tall grass of the prairies were the best fields for the exercise of the hunter's skill. No feet could be impressed in the yielding soil but that the tracks were the object of the most searching scrutiny, and revealed at a glance the animal that made them, the direction it was pursuing, and the time that had elapsed since it had passed. In a forest country he selected the valleys, because they were most frequently the resort of game. The most easily taken, perhaps, of all the animals of the chase was the deer. It is endowed with a curiosity which prompts it to stop in its flight and look back at the approaching hunter, who always avails himself of this opportunity to let fly the fatal arrow.

Their general councils were composed of the chiefs and old men. When in council, they usually sat in concentric circles around the speaker, and each individual, notwithstanding what rankled within, preserved an exterior as immovable as if cast in bronze. Before commencing business a person appeared with the sacred pipe, and another with fire to kindle it. After being lighted it was first presented to heaven, secondly to the earth, thirdly to the presiding spirit, and lastly the several counselors, each of whom took a whiff. These formalities were observed with as close exactness as state etiquette in civilized courts.

The dwellings of the Indians were of the simplest and rudest character. On some pleasant spot by the bank of a river, or near an ever-running spring, they raised their groups of wigwams, constructed of the bark of trees, and easily taken down and removed to another spot. The dwelling places of the chiefs were sometimes more spacious, and constructed with greater care, but of the same materials. Skins taken in the chase served them for repose. Though principally dependent upon hunting and fishing, the uncertain supply from those sources led them to cultivate small patches of corn. Every family did everything necessary within itself,, commerce, or an interchange of articles, being almost unknown to them. In cases of dispute and dissension, each Indian relied upon himself for retaliation. Blood

for blood was the rule, and the relatives of the slain man were bound to obtain

bloody revenge for his death. This principle gave rise, as a matter of course, to innumerable bitter feuds, and wars of extermination where such were possible. War, indeed, rather than peace, was the Indian's glory and delight,-war, not conducted as civilization, but war where individual skill, endurance, gallantry and cruelty were prime requisites. For such a purpose as revenge the Indian would make great sacrifices, and display a patience and perseverance truly heroic; but when the excitement was over, he sank back into a listless, unoccupied, well-nigh useless savage. During the intervals of his more exciting pursuits, the Indian occupied his time in decorating his person with all the refinement of paint and feathers, and in the manufacture of his arms and of canoes. These were constructed of bark, and so light that they could easily be carried on the shoulder from stream to stream. His amusements were the war-dance, athletic games, the narration of his exploits, and listening to the oratory of the chiefs; but during long periods of such a period he remained in a state of torpor, gazing listlessly upon the trees of the forests and the clouds that sailed above them; and this vacancy imprinted an habitual gravity, and even melancholy, upon his general deportment.

The main labor and drudgery of Indian communities fell upon the women. The planting, tending and gathering of the crops, making mats and baskets, carrying burdens-in fact, all things of the kind were performed by them, thus making their condition but little better than that of slaves. Marriage was merely a matter of bargain and sale, the husband giving presents to the father of the bride. In general they had but few children. They were subjected to many and severe attacks of sickness, and at times famine and pestilence swept away whole tribes.

CHAPTER XII.

THE FRENCH PIONEERS.

The Griffin was finished Aug. 4, 1679, and her sails set, a trial trip made, and the name she bore bestowed upon her by Father Hennepin. On the fifth, five small cannon were placed in position. The seventh was the day appointed for entering upon that voyage over the Gitchi Gomee or great inland seas. The morning arrived; the sun shone forth, as it were, over a sea of gold; a favoring breeze played upon the waters; the cataract of Niagara, six miles below, reduced its roar to music; while from La Salle's new fortress the song of the Te Deum swelled upon the morning air. The sails were set, Robert De La Salle, commander of the Griffin, Father Louis Hennepin, historian and chaplain, with the