“There is a lady trying to speak to you,” said the pilot. On the Northern Light was Mrs. Ralston, with whom Mrs. Lester had intended to journey to St. Paul. Handkerchiefs were waved and mute signals attempted, but the few desired words of explanation were wanting. Near and yet afar off. The boats soon parted for their opposite points of destination, and Mr. and Mrs. Ralston, from the hurricane deck, waved their good-by. Nearly opposite M’Gregor’s landing is the mouth of the Wisconsin River. “There was a memorable voyage on that river nearly two hundred years ago,” said Mrs. Lester. “Two canoes, containing seven men, floated down these waters, ‘entering happily this great river with a joy that could not be expressed.’” “Who were they, mother?” “Father Marquette, the gentle, good missionary; Joliet, a citizen of Quebec, and five Frenchmen, their companions. They had left the Fox River, which flows into Green Bay, and carrying their canoes, they crossed the narrow portage that divides it from the Wisconsin on the 10th of June, 1673. Down the river for seven days, floating in those majestic solitudes, seeing neither man nor beast, passing beautiful prairies, and green hillsides, the discoverers at length reached the great river which they were seeking to find. “And where did they go then?” asked Norman. “Over these waters the light birch bark canoes floated for about sixty leagues. Then they landed on the western bank of the river, where they saw foot-prints on the shore. They followed them till they came in sight of an Indian village. “They commended themselves to God, and cried aloud. Four old men advanced to meet them, bearing the calumet, the peace-pipe, adorned with brilliant feathers, and saying, “We are Illinois,” which means, “We are men.” The Indians invited the strangers to their village, prepared a feast in their honor, and entertained them for six days. Several hundred warriors then escorted them to their canoes, hanging around the neck of Marquette, on parting, the calumet, with its plumage of various hues, a pledge of safety for the wanderers among savage tribes.” “Do go on, mother, and tell me something more about Marquette. I think his adventures are very interesting.” “I know little more about him, except that he sailed down the river past the Missouri and the Ohio, and that some warlike Indians, armed with clubs, axes, bows and arrows, came out to meet them with the fearful war-whoop. Marquette stood up, holding the sacred peace-pipe, and God touched the hearts of the Indians, so that at the sight of this symbol they threw their bows and arrows into the canoes, and welcomed the strangers.