From the farthest realms of morning
Came the black-robe chief, the prophet,
He the priest of prayer; the pale-face
With his guides and his companions.’”
A lady showed Norman a picture of the rapids at the Sault St. Marie, with a number of Indians in their canoes; and the captain said they would paddle their canoes up the rapids, and then throwing their nets in the water as they came down, would catch the fish going up the stream.
After tea they seated themselves in the stern of the vessel, and looked at her track far over the lake. The air was cool and exhilarating, and it was with devout gratitude to God for the wonderful display of his mighty works, and for his abundant blessings, that some of the company gazed upon the serene glory of the sunsetting. It was not gorgeous, as was the sunset on Lake Michigan, with clouds of purple and crimson, but slowly, slowly the shining orb dipped behind the waters. The evening star hung trembling in the sky, faintly shining out from that region of pale gold; while the moon, high in the western heavens, promised for many hours her silvery light.
Norman brought out his trolling-hook, that he might have the pleasure of throwing it into Lake Huron, as he was denied that of fishing in Lake Superior. He let it out at the end of a long and strong fishing line, and amused himself watching it bounce out of the water, and feeling the twitches it gave his hand as the boat moved rapidly onward. A lady, who sat near, was very much amused at the stout resistance of the waves. At length Norman drew in his line, and lo! and behold the hook was gone. The action of the waves had worn away the stout cord, made still stronger by being wound around with thread.
“There,” said Norman, “I have lost the hook which cost me twenty-five cents.”
“I think it has given us twenty-five cents’ worth of pleasure,” said the lady, who had been watching the dancing line.
“And you have the honor of having lost your hook in the clear waters of Lake Huron,” added his mother. Norman was meanwhile tying to the end of his line the little board on which the line had been wound, and he threw that in the water in place of the hook. This was a more stirring pastime. The board offered so much stronger resistance to the waves, that Norman had to wind the line several times around his hand to retain his hold. At one moment the jerk was so violent, that the cord drew the boy toward the low balustrade, over which he might have easily gone, but for the interposing arms of the lady and his mother, at once thrown round him. There was a start among the little company as they perceived the boy’s danger, and Mrs. Lester told Norman he had now better draw in his line.