After breakfast Norman, his mother, and Alfred Scarborough went to the hurricane deck. Soon a gentleman came up, and walked vigorously up and down, giving at each turn some good advice to Norman. He was an English clergyman, hale and fresh complexioned, with a bright eye, and firm, quick step, though he was seventy years of age. “I have come out,” he said, “to get some fresh air before breakfast. There are not many young men that can run up a mountain like me. Many young men only smoke, and sleep, and eat; they never think of taking vigorous exercise. They will never be able to walk as I do at my age. “Walk, my boy,” said he, putting his hand on Norman’s shoulder “run, leap, and you will grow strong. Those are the Fox Islands, are they? Well, I must go down to my breakfast, they will not make much on me; I can eat a pound more than I could have when I came up.” And thus ending his walk and sentences together, he went down stairs. It was a lovely morning; the cool breeze was exhilarating, and the morning passed quickly away as they glided through the straits that connect Lake Michigan and Lake Huron; the straits so long known under the formidable name of the Straits of Michilimackinac, now abridged to Mackinaw. CHAPTER XX. MACKINAW AND LAKE HURON. In our wake there follow’d, white as flakes of snow, Seven adventurous sea-gulls, floating to and fro; Diving for the bounty of the bread we threw, Dipping, curving, swerving—fishing as they flew. MACKAY. Just after dinner they reached Mackinaw, where a number of the excursionists were to remain until the boat returned from Collingwood. The captain said they would remain at Mackinaw time enough to visit the fort.