The weather was very pleasant when we left our Michigan home, but at the Mississippi river the _squaw winter_, immediately preceding _Indian summer_, came upon us with unusual sharpness, and lasted through the remainder of our journey. We were to cross the river at a little hamlet called "Swan River," and our plan was to hire conveyances there which should take us the remaining distance. But on arriving at this point we found a young friend who had come West for his health, and was acting as agent for my brother, one of the owners of the purchase. He was on a business errand and not well prepared to take us back with him, but as we learned that it would be impossible to procure transportation for two or three days, and were extremely anxious to reach the end of our journey, he decided to make the attempt. We made the transit in small skiffs amidst huge cakes of floating ice, which threatened to swamp us before we reached the western shore, and our fears well nigh got the better of some of us, but taking a lesson from the implicit confidence our dear children reposed in us, we rested in our Heavenly Father's love and care, and so passed safely and trustingly over. At 4 P. M., we struck out into the wilderness, but, the roads being rough and our load heavy, we made very slow progress. By 9 o'clock we had not reached the half-way mark, but by way of encouragement to the horses, and in consideration of the tired, hungry children, we came to a halt and improvised a nocturnal picnic. It was cold, very cold, there was no shelter, no light but the camp-fire, and yet there was an attempt at cheerfulness, and the entertainment passed off with some degree of merriment.