306 TRANSACTIONS OF THE CANADIAN INSTITUTE. [VoL. VI. 
The spring came and with it the young trader with unabated affection. 
The chief’s daughter became Mrs. Johnston and lived very happily for 
thirty-six years at what is now the American Sault Ste. Marie, until Mr. 
Johnston’s death. 
The story is beautifully told in Mrs. Jameson’s “Summer Rambles in 
Canada.” Mr. Johnston was a native of County Antrim, his father having 
an estate at Craige, near the Giant's Causeway. He fell into the 
company of the half baronial class of the North-West fur traders. The 
free life and beauty of the Northland attracted his poetic fancy as the 
like scenes in Upper Canada early in the century aroused the in- 
spiration of his fellow countryman, Thomas Moore. He found in 
Waub-Ojeeg, as Schoolcraft says, a sort of rajah, whom men were always 
ready to follow. Andrew J. Blackbird met Johnston at Macinac, and 
describes him as “a most noble looking and tall young man, who spoke 
perfectly the Indian language.” He had four sons and four daughters 
to whose education he paid the utmost attention. 
Of the daughters, one became. wife of Rev. Dr. McMurray, who was 
then Anglican missionary at the Sault, and later Rector of Niagara; 
another was wife of Mr. Henry R. Schoolcraft, for many years American 
Indian agent at Macinac. 
Waub-Ojeeg was in as high esteem for eloquence and poetry as for 
warlike daring. Mr. Johnston translated one of his war songs into English 
verse. 
WAUB-OJEEG’S BATTLE SONG. 
On that day when our heroes lay low, lay low, 
On that day when our heroes lay low 
I fought by their side, and thought, ere I died, 
Just vengeance to take on the foe, 
Just vengeance to take on the foe. 
On that day, when our chieftains lay dead, lay dead, 
On that day, when our chieftains lay dead, 
I fought hand to hand at the head of my band, 
And here on my breast have I bled, have I bled, 
And here on my breast have I bled. 
Our chiefs shall return no more, no more, 
Our chiefs shall return no more— 
Nor their brethren of war, who can show scar for scar, 
Like women their fates shall] deplore, deplore, 
Like women their fates shall deplore. 
Five winters in hunting we'll spend, we'll spend, 
Five winters in hunting we'll spend, 
Till our youth, grown to men, we'll to war lead again, 
And our days like our fathers’ will end, will end, 
And our days like our fathers’ will end. 
Ns ge ale bed 
