No answer came from the sunset clouds, and as twilight sank down on the earth I rose to go. 'I fully believe,' I said, as though repeating a creed, 'that this poor, loving heart, whose earthly body lies under this mound, is happy in its own loving way. It has not been changed, but the happiness it longed for has come. How we know not; but the God who made Wilhelmina understands her. He has given unto her not rest, not peace, but an active, living joy.' I walked away through the wild meadow, under whose turf, unmarked by stone or mound, lay the first pioneers of the Community and out into the forest road, untravelled save when the dead passed over it to their last earthly home. The evening was still and breathless, and the shadows lay thick on the grass as I looked back. But I could still distinguish the little mound with the rose-bush at its head, and, not without tears, I said, 'Farewell, poor Wilhelmina; farewell.' ST. CLAIR FLATS In September, 1855, I first saw the St. Clair Flats. Owing to Raymond's determination, we stopped there. 'Why go on?' he asked. 'Why cross another long, rough lake, when here is all we want?' 'But no one ever stops here,' I said. 'So much the better; we shall have it all to ourselves.' 'But we must at least have a roof over our heads.' 'I presume we can find one.' The captain of the steamer, however, knew of no roof save that covering a little lighthouse set on spiles, which the boat would pass within the half hour; we decided to get off there, and throw ourselves upon the charity of the lighthouse-man. In the meantime, we sat on the bow with Captain Kidd, our four-legged companion, who had often accompanied us on hunt-expeditions, but never so far westward. It had been rough on Lake Erie,--very rough. We, who had sailed the ocean with composure, found ourselves most inhumanly tossed on the short chopping waves of this fresh water sea; we, who alone of all the cabin-list had eaten our four courses every day on the ocean-steamer, found ourselves here reduced to the depressing diet of a herring and pilot-bread. Captain Kidd, too, had suffered dumbly; even now he could not find comfort, but tried every plank in the deck, one after the other, circling round and round after his tail dog-fashion, before lying down, and no sooner down than up again, for another choice of planks, another circling, and another failure. We were sailing across a small lake whose smooth waters were like clear green oil; as we drew near the outlet, the low, green shores curved inward and came together, and the steamer entered a narrow, green river. 'Here we are,' said Raymond. 'Now we can soon land.' 'But there isn't any land,' I answered. 'What is that, then?' asked my near-sighted companion, pointing toward what seemed a shore. 'Reeds.' 'And what do they run back to?' 'Nothing.' 'But there must be solid ground beyond?' 'Nothing but reeds, flags, lily-pads, grass, and water, as far as I can see.' 'A marsh?'