the island with the tears that rise but do not fall, the sudden
longing despondency that comes occasionally to all, when the tired
heart cries out, 'O, to escape, to flee away, far, far away, and be at
rest!'

In 1856 Fort Mackinac held a major, a captain, three lieutenants, a
chaplain, and a surgeon, besides those subordinate officers who wear
stripes on their sleeves, and whose rank and duties are mysteries to
the uninitiated. The force for this array of commanders was small,
less than a company; but what it lacked in quantity it made up in
quality, owing to the continual drilling it received.

The days were long at Fort Mackinac; happy thought! drill the men. So
when the major had finished, the captain began, and each lieutenant
was watching his chance. Much state was kept up also. Whenever the
major appeared, 'Commanding officer; guard, present arms,' was called
down the line of men on duty, and the guard hastened to obey, the
major acknowledging the salute with stiff precision. By day and by
night sentinels paced the walls. True, the walls were crumbling, and
the whole force was constantly engaged in propping them up, but none
the less did the sentinels pace with dignity. What was it to the
captain if, while he sternly inspected the muskets in the block-house,
the lieutenant, with a detail of men, was hard at work strengthening
its underpinning? None the less did he inspect. The sally-port, mended
but imposing; the flag-staff with its fair-weather and storm flags;
the frowning iron grating; the sidling white causeway, constantly
falling down and as constantly repaired, which led up to the main
entrance; the well-preserved old cannon,--all showed a strict military
rule. When the men were not drilling they were propping up the fort
and when they were not propping up the fort they were drilling. In the