returned to the village to see what was going on, “what he had done with the English man.” And being told, he said, “you have done well.” Attawang came to see me, and made his two sons guard me. Two Kickapoo chiefs came to me, and spoke kindly, telling me that they had not been at war with the English for seven years. Two Miamis came likewise, and told me that I need not be afraid to go to their village. A Huron woman however abused me because the English had killed her son. Late at night I returned to Attawang’s cabin, where I found my servant concealed under a blanket, the Indians having attempted to murder him; but they had been prevented by St. Vincent. There was an alarm in the night, a drunken Indian having been seen at the skirt of the wood. One of the Delaware nation, who happened to be with Pondiac’s army, passing by the cabin where I lay, called out in broken English: “D—d son of a b—ch.” All this while I saw none of my own Indians: I believe their situation was almost as perilous as my own. The following day (30th) the Miamis and Kickapoos set out on their return home, as provisions were growing scarce. An Indian called the little chief, told Godefroi that he would send his son with me, and made me a present of a volume of Shakespear’s plays; a singular gift from a savage. He however begged a little gunpowder in return, a commodity to him much more precious than diamonds. The next day (31st) I gave Attawang, who was going to Detroit, a letter for General Bradstreet,[12] and to one of my servants whom I sent along with this chief, I gave another for his Aid de Camp. And now, having purchased three horses and hired two canoes to carry our little baggage, I set out once more, having obtained Pondiac’s consent, for the Illinois country, with my twelve Indians, the two Canadians, St. Vincent’s two slaves, and the little chief’s son and nephew. There was scarcely any water in the channel of the river, owing to the great drought, so that the canoes could hardly be dragged along empty in some places. We passed by the island where is Pondiac’s village, and arrived at a little village consisting of only two pretty large cabins, and three small ones, and here we encamped: that is, we lay on the ground; and as a distinguished personage, I was honoured by having a few small branches under me, and a sort of basket-work made by bending boughs with their ends fixed in the earth, for me to thrust my head under to avoid the musketoes or large gnats with which that country is infested. The day following (August 1st)[13] arrived St. Vincent and Pondiac. The latter gave the former the great belt, forty years old, on which were described two hundred and ten villages. St. Vincent joined us, and we set forward, and arrived at another village of the Uttawaws, the last of their villages we had to pass. One of the chiefs of this village gave me his hand, and led us into the cabin for strangers, where