The family that remained were an old couple with a young son of
seventeen years. The old couple felt the journey too long for them to
take so preferred to remain all winter. Father and mother tried hard to
persuade them not to remain, but go home, but they would not go so they
prepared to pass the winter at a place called Birch Point, a cold, bleak
shore, where the foot of a white man seldom ever came in winter at that
time and very seldom the Indian hunters except on their hunting
expeditions. Our goods had been sent on to Manistique and we were to
follow in a few days in our boat. Just before we left father took us all
down the shore to see the old couple that were to remain all winter and
try to persuade them to come with us to Manistique. The name of this
family was McWilliams. We found the old gentleman very sick. Mother told
me afterwards we were with them two weeks. The old man died. Father made
the casket. We buried him on that lonely shore in a quiet little nook
where he loved so much to sit and watch the waves roll in upon the white
sandy beach. Buried him where the blue sea waves might chant a requiem
to his grave.
Sing on, sad waves, your sound shall toll
A solemn requiem to the soul
Who sleeps so peaceful on that shore
Till time shall wake to sleep no more.
My people tried hard to have the mother and son go with us but nothing
could induce them to leave the lonely grave of their loved one. Time
was passing, father was anxious to reach Manistique at once. They told
me it was a great sorrow to leave the mother and son alone, and to make
it more lonely the wolves and bears were so numerous we could hear the
howl of the wolves and growls of the bears just as soon as it became
dark every night. They would sit at our doors and snap and growl at each
other. They were so hungry we could hear their teeth snap together. John
McWilliams picked brush and wood, keeping a fire around his father's
grave until he could build a strong fence of logs around it.