I was again on board the steamer Michigan. The same captain, the same
crew; Jane, the cabin maid was there with her pleasant smile. There were
several passengers from Green Bay going to Mackinac Island, for it was
payment time. Among the passengers was Mr. Scott, of Green Bay, who once
lived at Mackinac Island. Another was Mr. Michael Dousman, he being
another that had lived many years on Mackinac Island. His home then
being in Milwaukee. When we landed at Mackinac Island the entire beach
from Mission House Point to the place where the "Grand" now stands was
filled with a row of Indian wigwams.
There were Indians wearing their blankets and the women dressed in
bright gay colors with their papooses strapped on their backs in their
Indian cradles. The cradles were trimmed with gay colored ribbons. Dogs
and children were all mixed up together. Many squaws were pounding
Indian corn to make soup for their supper. The streets near the water at
Mackinac looked very bright in their gay colors. Indian women and their
children were strolling and chatting together looking at the bright
colored goods, while the men were most of the time walking about the
streets wrapped in their white blankets, they talking together in low
tones. Perhaps telling about how their grandfathers had met for councils
of war at this same place so many years before.
The island was just as beautiful as ever. It was early spring time when
I saw it last with the straits full of floating ice. Now the grass was
green and the trees were in autumn dress with the beautiful evergreens
mixed in among the pretty colored leaves of maple and birch. The crisp
autumn air gave new life after a hot summer. It had been a busy season
with summer visitors and a few had lingered for payment time.