"On the fourth day we had an addition to our party. The woman at the helm said she was sick--and we went on shore perhaps three-quarters of an hour on account of the rain, and when it ceased, she was ready with her infant to step into the canoe and continue rowing, although she did not resume her seat in the stern until the next morning. This is a specimen of Indian life. "We have found Dr. and Mrs. Turner in the garrison here; she was formerly Mary Stuart of Mackinaw." "Traverse des Sioux, July 4. "The canoe (birch-bark) which we praised so highly failed us about eight miles below this place, in consequence of not having a supply of gum to mend a large rent made by a snag early this morning. Not thinking it was quite so far, I chose to try walking, husband carrying Isabella, the Frenchmen having hastened on to find our horses to bring up the baggage. We reached the river and found there was no boat here with which to cross. Mr. Riggs waded with Isabella, the water being about two and a half feet deep, and an Indian woman came to carry me over, when our horses were brought up. Husband mounted without any saddle, and I, quivering like an aspen, seated myself behind, clinging so tightly that I feared I should pull us both off. I do not think it was fear, at least not entirely, for I am still exceedingly fatigued and dizzy, but I have reason to be grateful that I did not fall into the river from faintness, as husband thought I was in danger of doing. Isabella's face is nearly blistered, and mine almost as brown as an Indian's." "LAC-QUI-PARLE MISSION, July 27, 1840. "We are once more in the quiet enjoyment of home, and are somewhat rested from the fatigue of our journey. The repetition of that parental injunction, 'Mary, do be careful of your health,' recalled your watchful care most forcibly. How often have I heard these words, and perhaps too often have regarded them less strictly than an anxious mother deemed necessary for my highest welfare. And even now, were it not that the experience of a few years may correct my _notions_ about health, I should be so unfashionable as to affirm that necessary exposures, such as sleeping on the prairie in a tent drenched with rain, and walking some two or three miles in the dewy grass, where the water would gush forth from our shoes at every step, and then continuing our walk until they were more than comfortably dry, as we did on the morning our canoe failed us, are not as injurious to the health as the unnecessary exposures of fashionable life."