“On their return they sailed up the river Illinois, through the beautiful prairies. The tribe of Illinois that live on its banks wanted the good missionary to remain with them, and one of their chiefs, with his young men, led the party to Lake Michigan, by way of Chicago. Here Marquette remained to preach to the Miamis north of Chicago, and Joliet returned to Quebec, to announce the discovery of the upper Mississippi. “And what became of the good Marquette?” “Two years afterward, as he was going to Mackinaw, he entered a little river in Michigan, which, for a long time afterward, was called by his name. He requested the men who paddled his canoe to carry him ashore. They did so; and there, with no shelter but the little bark cabin which his men hastily erected, he endured great agony. But he seems to have had faith in Christ, and died in great peace. In the gloom of the vast forests he slept to wake again in the green solitudes of the New World. His companions dug his grave on a rising ground near the river, and buried his body, which was afterward taken up by the Indians, and carried with great respect to old Mackinaw, and placed in a little vault of a Catholic church, which has long since disappeared.” The scenery that on their upward course was vailed in mist and drizzling rain, was now seen in its “fairest, happiest attitude.” Nothing was wanting to “the gentle grace” of that parting day. Purple, crimson, and gold painted the western sky, as the sun sank slowly below the horizon, lighting up a fairy scene on the placid waters of the river. Then, as the onward motion of the boat rudely disturbed the sleeping glory, new combinations of beauty sought to make amends for the loss of the serene picture of the radiant heavens. Golden ripples, a honeycomb of black and gold, lay between them and the wooded banks toward which, as the gorgeous tints now faded on earth and sky, Norman directed his attention. Rocks, decayed trees and branches covered with moss and lichen, were faithfully mirrored in the waters, giving a kaleidescopic effect to every object. Norman saw, simultaneously with his mother, exquisitely tinted butterflies, insects of green and gray, stone altars, rustic letters, and many other objects. Exclamations of wonder and admiration were echoed from one to the other at some of these marvelous combinations; and it was with reluctance they turned, as the twilight deepened, from the margin of the woodland to the clear outline of the trees against the western sky. There was still room for fancy to sketch her pictures, and call up birds and beasts in that varied outline. “This is the pleasantest afternoon of all,” cried Norman; “it is so nice for us to be by ourselves.” “And yet you forsook me first, Norman, and, absorbed in your play, lost the first views of the Mississippi. You said there was a want with children which children alone could supply—a demand of the social nature.”