LIFE ON THE MISSISSIPPI

 BY MARK TWAIN

 Part 12. 

Chapter 56 A Question of Law

THE slaughter-house is gone from the mouth of Bear Creek and so is thesmall jail (or 'calaboose') which once stood in its neighborhood. Acitizen asked, 'Do you remember when Jimmy Finn, the town drunkard, wasburned to death in the calaboose?'

Observe, now, how history becomes defiled, through lapse of time and thehelp of the bad memories of men. Jimmy Finn was not burned in thecalaboose, but died a natural death in a tan vat, of a combination ofdelirium tremens and spontaneous combustion. When I say natural death, Imean it was a natural death for Jimmy Finn to die. The calaboose victimwas not a citizen; he was a poor stranger, a harmless whiskey-soddentramp. I know more about his case than anybody else; I knew too much ofit, in that bygone day, to relish speaking of it. That tramp waswandering about the streets one chilly evening, with a pipe in hismouth, and begging for a match; he got neither matches nor courtesy; onthe contrary, a troop of bad little boys followed him around and amusedthemselves with nagging and annoying him. I assisted; but at last, someappeal which the wayfarer made for forbearance, accompanying it with apathetic reference to his forlorn and friendless condition, touched suchsense of shame and remnant of right feeling as were left in me, and Iwent away and got him some matches, and then hied me home and to bed, heavily weighted as to conscience, and unbuoyant in spirit. An hour ortwo afterward, the man was arrested and locked up in the calaboose bythe marshal--large name for a constable, but that was his title. At twoin the morning, the church bells rang for fire, and everybody turnedout, of course--I with the rest. The tramp had used his matchesdisastrously: he had set his straw bed on fire, and the oaken sheathingof the room had caught. When I reached the ground, two hundred men, women, and children stood massed together, transfixed with horror, andstaring at the grated windows of the jail. Behind the iron bars, andtugging frantically at them, and screaming for help, stood the tramp; heseemed like a black object set against a sun, so white and intense wasthe light at his back. That marshal could not be found, and he had theonly key. A battering-ram was quickly improvised, and the thunder of itsblows upon the door had so encouraging a sound that the spectators brokeinto wild cheering, and believed the merciful battle won. But it was notso. The timbers were too strong; they did not yield. It was said thatthe man's death-grip still held fast to the bars after he was dead; andthat in this position the fires wrapped him about and consumed him. Asto this, I do not know. What was seen after I recognized the face thatwas pleading through the bars was seen by others, not by me. 

I saw that face, so situated, every night for a long time afterward; andI believed myself as guilty of the man's death as if I had given him thematches purposely that he might burn himself up with them. I had not adoubt that I should be hanged if my connection with this tragedy werefound out. The happenings and the impressions of that time are burntinto my memory, and the study of them entertains me as much now as theythemselves distressed me then. If anybody spoke of that grisly matter, Iwas all ears in a moment, and alert to hear what might be said, for Iwas always dreading and expecting to find out that I was suspected; andso fine and so delicate was the perception of my guilty conscience, thatit often detected suspicion in the most purposeless remarks, and inlooks, gestures, glances of the eye which had no significance, but whichsent me shivering away in a panic of fright, just the same. And how sickit made me when somebody dropped, howsoever carelessly and barren ofintent, the remark that 'murder will out!' For a boy of ten years, I wascarrying a pretty weighty cargo. 

All this time I was blessedly forgetting one thing--the fact that I wasan inveterate talker in my sleep. But one night I awoke and found mybed-mate--my younger brother--sitting up in bed and contemplating me bythe light of the moon. I said--

'What is the matter?'

'You talk so much I can't sleep. '

I came to a sitting posture in an instant, with my kidneys in my throatand my hair on end. 

'What did I say. Quick--out with it--what did I say?'

'Nothing much. '

'It's a lie--you know everything. '

'Everything about what?'

'You know well enough. About THAT. '

'About WHAT?--I don't know what you are talking about. I think you aresick or crazy or something. But anyway, you're awake, and I'll get tosleep while I've got a chance. '

He fell asleep and I lay there in a cold sweat, turning this new terrorover in the whirling chaos which did duty as my mind. The burden of mythought was, How much did I divulge? How much does he know?--what adistress is this uncertainty! But by and by I evolved an idea--I wouldwake my brother and probe him with a supposititious case. I shook himup, and said--

'Suppose a man should come to you drunk--'

'This is foolish--I never get drunk. '

'I don't mean you, idiot--I mean the man. Suppose a MAN should come toyou drunk, and borrow a knife, or a tomahawk, or a pistol, and youforgot to tell him it was loaded, and--'

'How could you load a tomahawk?'

'I don't mean the tomahawk, and I didn't say the tomahawk; I said thepistol. Now don't you keep breaking in that way, because this isserious. There's been a man killed. '

'What! in this town?'

'Yes, in this town. '

'Well, go on--I won't say a single word. '

'Well, then, suppose you forgot to tell him to be careful with it, because it was loaded, and he went off and shot himself with thatpistol--fooling with it, you know, and probably doing it by accident, being drunk. Well, would it be murder?'

'No--suicide. '

'No, no. I don't mean HIS act, I mean yours: would you be a murdererfor letting him have that pistol?'

After deep thought came this answer--

'Well, I should think I was guilty of something--maybe murder--yes, probably murder, but I don't quite know. '

This made me very uncomfortable. However, it was not a decisiveverdict. I should have to set out the real case--there seemed to be noother way. But I would do it cautiously, and keep a watch out forsuspicious effects. I said--

'I was supposing a case, but I am coming to the real one now. Do youknow how the man came to be burned up in the calaboose?'

'No. '

'Haven't you the least idea?'

'Not the least. '

'Wish you may die in your tracks if you have?'

'Yes, wish I may die in my tracks. '

'Well, the way of it was this. The man wanted some matches to light hispipe. A boy got him some. The man set fire to the calaboose with thosevery matches, and burnt himself up. '

'Is that so?'

'Yes, it is. Now, is that boy a murderer, do you think?'

'Let me see. The man was drunk?'

'Yes, he was drunk. '

'Very drunk?'

'Yes. '

'And the boy knew it?'

'Yes, he knew it. '

There was a long pause. Then came this heavy verdict--

'If the man was drunk, and the boy knew it, the boy murdered that man. This is certain. '

Faint, sickening sensations crept along all the fibers of my body, and Iseemed to know how a person feels who hears his death sentencepronounced from the bench. I waited to hear what my brother would saynext. I believed I knew what it would be, and I was right. He said--

'I know the boy. '

I had nothing to say; so I said nothing. I simply shuddered. Then headded--

'Yes, before you got half through telling about the thing, I knewperfectly well who the boy was; it was Ben Coontz!'

I came out of my collapse as one who rises from the dead. I said, withadmiration--

'Why, how in the world did you ever guess it?'

'You told it in your sleep. '

I said to myself, 'How splendid that is! This is a habit which must becultivated. '

My brother rattled innocently on--

'When you were talking in your sleep, you kept mumbling something about"matches, " which I couldn't make anything out of; but just now, when youbegan to tell me about the man and the calaboose and the matches, Iremembered that in your sleep you mentioned Ben Coontz two or threetimes; so I put this and that together, you see, and right away I knewit was Ben that burnt that man up. '

I praised his sagacity effusively. Presently he asked--

'Are you going to give him up to the law?'

'No, ' I said; 'I believe that this will be a lesson to him. I shall keepan eye on him, of course, for that is but right; but if he stops wherehe is and reforms, it shall never be said that I betrayed him. '

'How good you are!'

'Well, I try to be. It is all a person can do in a world like this. '

And now, my burden being shifted to other shoulders, my terrors soonfaded away. 

The day before we left Hannibal, a curious thing fell under my notice--the surprising spread which longitudinal time undergoes there. I learnedit from one of the most unostentatious of men--the colored coachman of afriend of mine, who lives three miles from town. He was to call for meat the Park Hotel at 7. 30 P. M. , and drive me out. But he missed itconsiderably--did not arrive till ten. He excused himself by saying--

'De time is mos' an hour en a half slower in de country en what it is inde town; you'll be in plenty time, boss. Sometimes we shoves out earlyfor church, Sunday, en fetches up dah right plum in de middle er desermon. Diffunce in de time. A body can't make no calculations 'boutit. '

I had lost two hours and a half; but I had learned a fact worth four. 

Chapter 57 An Archangel

FROM St. Louis northward there are all the enlivening signs of thepresence of active, energetic, intelligent, prosperous, practicalnineteenth-century populations. The people don't dream, they work. Thehappy result is manifest all around in the substantial outside aspect ofthings, and the suggestions of wholesome life and comfort thateverywhere appear. 

Quincy is a notable example--a brisk, handsome, well-ordered city; andnow, as formerly, interested in art, letters, and other high things. 

But Marion City is an exception. Marion City has gone backwards in amost unaccountable way. This metropolis promised so well that theprojectors tacked 'city' to its name in the very beginning, with fullconfidence; but it was bad prophecy. When I first saw Marion City, thirty-five years ago, it contained one street, and nearly or quite sixhouses. It contains but one house now, and this one, in a state of ruin, is getting ready to follow the former five into the river. DoubtlessMarion City was too near to Quincy. It had another disadvantage: itwas situated in a flat mud bottom, below high-water mark, whereas Quincystands high up on the slope of a hill. 

In the beginning Quincy had the aspect and ways of a model New Englandtown: and these she has yet: broad, clean streets, trim, neat dwellingsand lawns, fine mansions, stately blocks of commercial buildings. Andthere are ample fair-grounds, a well kept park, and many attractivedrives; library, reading-rooms, a couple of colleges, some handsome andcostly churches, and a grand court-house, with grounds which occupy asquare. The population of the city is thirty thousand. There are somelarge factories here, and manufacturing, of many sorts, is done on agreat scale. 

La Grange and Canton are growing towns, but I missed Alexandria; wastold it was under water, but would come up to blow in the summer. 

Keokuk was easily recognizable. I lived there in 1857--an extraordinaryyear there in real-estate matters. The 'boom' was something wonderful. Everybody bought, everybody sold--except widows and preachers; theyalways hold on; and when the tide ebbs, they get left. Anything in thesemblance of a town lot, no matter how situated, was salable, and at afigure which would still have been high if the ground had been soddedwith greenbacks. 

The town has a population of fifteen thousand now, and is progressingwith a healthy growth. It was night, and we could not see details, forwhich we were sorry, for Keokuk has the reputation of being a beautifulcity. It was a pleasant one to live in long ago, and doubtless hasadvanced, not retrograded, in that respect. 

A mighty work which was in progress there in my day is finished now. This is the canal over the Rapids. It is eight miles long, threehundred feet wide, and is in no place less than six feet deep. Itsmasonry is of the majestic kind which the War Department usually dealsin, and will endure like a Roman aqueduct. The work cost four or fivemillions. 

After an hour or two spent with former friends, we started up the riveragain. Keokuk, a long time ago, was an occasional loafing-place of thaterratic genius, Henry Clay Dean. I believe I never saw him but once; buthe was much talked of when I lived there. This is what was said of him--

He began life poor and without education. But he educated himself--onthe curbstones of Keokuk. He would sit down on a curbstone with hisbook, careless or unconscious of the clatter of commerce and the trampof the passing crowds, and bury himself in his studies by the hour, never changing his position except to draw in his knees now and then tolet a dray pass unobstructed; and when his book was finished, itscontents, however abstruse, had been burnt into his memory, and were hispermanent possession. In this way he acquired a vast hoard of all sortsof learning, and had it pigeon-holed in his head where he could put hisintellectual hand on it whenever it was wanted. 

His clothes differed in no respect from a 'wharf-rat's, ' except thatthey were raggeder, more ill-assorted and inharmonious (and thereforemore extravagantly picturesque), and several layers dirtier. Nobodycould infer the master-mind in the top of that edifice from the edificeitself. 

He was an orator--by nature in the first place, and later by thetraining of experience and practice. When he was out on a canvass, hisname was a lodestone which drew the farmers to his stump from fiftymiles around. His theme was always politics. He used no notes, for avolcano does not need notes. In 1862, a son of Keokuk's latedistinguished citizen, Mr. Claggett, gave me this incident concerningDean--

The war feeling was running high in Keokuk (in '61), and a great massmeeting was to be held on a certain day in the new Athenaeum. Adistinguished stranger was to address the house. After the building hadbeen packed to its utmost capacity with sweltering folk of both sexes, the stage still remained vacant--the distinguished stranger had failedto connect. The crowd grew impatient, and by and by indignant andrebellious. About this time a distressed manager discovered Dean on acurb-stone, explained the dilemma to him, took his book away from him, rushed him into the building the back way, and told him to make for thestage and save his country. 

Presently a sudden silence fell upon the grumbling audience, andeverybody's eyes sought a single point--the wide, empty, carpetlessstage. A figure appeared there whose aspect was familiar to hardly adozen persons present. It was the scarecrow Dean--in foxy shoes, down atthe heels; socks of odd colors, also 'down;' damaged trousers, relics ofantiquity, and a world too short, exposing some inches of naked ankle;an unbuttoned vest, also too short, and exposing a zone of soiled andwrinkled linen between it and the waistband; shirt bosom open; longblack handkerchief, wound round and round the neck like a bandage; bob-tailed blue coat, reaching down to the small of the back, with sleeveswhich left four inches of forearm unprotected; small, stiff-brimmedsoldier-cap hung on a corner of the bump of--whichever bump it was. This figure moved gravely out upon the stage and, with sedate andmeasured step, down to the front, where it paused, and dreamilyinspected the house, saying no word. The silence of surprise held itsown for a moment, then was broken by a just audible ripple of merrimentwhich swept the sea of faces like the wash of a wave. The figureremained as before, thoughtfully inspecting. Another wave started--laughter, this time. It was followed by another, then a third--thislast one boisterous. 

And now the stranger stepped back one pace, took off his soldier-cap, tossed it into the wing, and began to speak, with deliberation, nobodylistening, everybody laughing and whispering. The speaker talked onunembarrassed, and presently delivered a shot which went home, andsilence and attention resulted. He followed it quick and fast, withother telling things; warmed to his work and began to pour his wordsout, instead of dripping them; grew hotter and hotter, and fell todischarging lightnings and thunder--and now the house began to breakinto applause, to which the speaker gave no heed, but went hammeringstraight on; unwound his black bandage and cast it away, stillthundering; presently discarded the bob tailed coat and flung it aside, firing up higher and higher all the time; finally flung the vest afterthe coat; and then for an untimed period stood there, like anotherVesuvius, spouting smoke and flame, lava and ashes, raining pumice-stoneand cinders, shaking the moral earth with intellectual crash upon crash, explosion upon explosion, while the mad multitude stood upon their feetin a solid body, answering back with a ceaseless hurricane of cheers, through a thrashing snowstorm of waving handkerchiefs. 

'When Dean came, ' said Claggett, 'the people thought he was an escapedlunatic; but when he went, they thought he was an escaped archangel. '

Burlington, home of the sparkling Burdette, is another hill city; andalso a beautiful one; unquestionably so; a fine and flourishing city, with a population of twenty-five thousand, and belted with busyfactories of nearly every imaginable description. It was a very sobercity, too--for the moment--for a most sobering bill was pending; a billto forbid the manufacture, exportation, importation, purchase, sale, borrowing, lending, stealing, drinking, smelling, or possession, byconquest, inheritance, intent, accident, or otherwise, in the State ofIowa, of each and every deleterious beverage known to the human race, except water. This measure was approved by all the rational people inthe State; but not by the bench of Judges. 

Burlington has the progressive modern city's full equipment of devicesfor right and intelligent government; including a paid fire department, a thing which the great city of New Orleans is without, but stillemploys that relic of antiquity, the independent system. 

In Burlington, as in all these Upper-River towns, one breathes ago-ahead atmosphere which tastes good in the nostrils. An opera-house haslately been built there which is in strong contrast with the shabby denswhich usually do duty as theaters in cities of Burlington's size. 

We had not time to go ashore in Muscatine, but had a daylight view of itfrom the boat. I lived there awhile, many years ago, but the place, now, had a rather unfamiliar look; so I suppose it has clear outgrownthe town which I used to know. In fact, I know it has; for I remember itas a small place--which it isn't now. But I remember it best for alunatic who caught me out in the fields, one Sunday, and extracted abutcher-knife from his boot and proposed to carve me up with it, unlessI acknowledged him to be the only son of the Devil. I tried tocompromise on an acknowledgment that he was the only member of thefamily I had met; but that did not satisfy him; he wouldn't have anyhalf-measures; I must say he was the sole and only son of the Devil--hewhetted his knife on his boot. It did not seem worth while to maketrouble about a little thing like that; so I swung round to his view ofthe matter and saved my skin whole. Shortly afterward, he went to visithis father; and as he has not turned up since, I trust he is there yet. 

And I remember Muscatine--still more pleasantly--for its summer sunsets. I have never seen any, on either side of the ocean, that equaled them. They used the broad smooth river as a canvas, and painted on it everyimaginable dream of color, from the mottled daintinesses and delicaciesof the opal, all the way up, through cumulative intensities, to blindingpurple and crimson conflagrations which were enchanting to the eye, butsharply tried it at the same time. All the Upper Mississippi region hasthese extraordinary sunsets as a familiar spectacle. It is the trueSunset Land: I am sure no other country can show so good a right to thename. The sunrises are also said to be exceedingly fine. I do not know. 

Chapter 58 On the Upper River

THE big towns drop in, thick and fast, now: and between stretchprocessions of thrifty farms, not desolate solitude. Hour by hour, theboat plows deeper and deeper into the great and populous North-west; andwith each successive section of it which is revealed, one's surprise andrespect gather emphasis and increase. Such a people, and suchachievements as theirs, compel homage. This is an independent race whothink for themselves, and who are competent to do it, because they areeducated and enlightened; they read, they keep abreast of the best andnewest thought, they fortify every weak place in their land with aschool, a college, a library, and a newspaper; and they live under law. Solicitude for the future of a race like this is not in order. 

This region is new; so new that it may be said to be still in itsbabyhood. By what it has accomplished while still teething, one mayforecast what marvels it will do in the strength of its maturity. It isso new that the foreign tourist has not heard of it yet; and has notvisited it. For sixty years, the foreign tourist has steamed up and downthe river between St. Louis and New Orleans, and then gone home andwritten his book, believing he had seen all of the river that was worthseeing or that had anything to see. In not six of all these books isthere mention of these Upper River towns--for the reason that the fiveor six tourists who penetrated this region did it before these townswere projected. The latest tourist of them all (1878) made the same oldregulation trip--he had not heard that there was anything north of St. Louis. 

Yet there was. There was this amazing region, bristling with greattowns, projected day before yesterday, so to speak, and built nextmorning. A score of them number from fifteen hundred to five thousandpeople. Then we have Muscatine, ten thousand; Winona, ten thousand;Moline, ten thousand; Rock Island, twelve thousand; La Crosse, twelvethousand; Burlington, twenty-five thousand; Dubuque, twenty-fivethousand; Davenport, thirty thousand; St. Paul, fifty-eight thousand, Minneapolis, sixty thousand and upward. 

The foreign tourist has never heard of these; there is no note of themin his books. They have sprung up in the night, while he slept. So newis this region, that I, who am comparatively young, am yet older than itis. When I was born, St. Paul had a population of three persons, Minneapolis had just a third as many. The then population of Minneapolisdied two years ago; and when he died he had seen himself undergo anincrease, in forty years, of fifty-nine thousand nine hundred andninety-nine persons. He had a frog's fertility. 

I must explain that the figures set down above, as the population of St. Paul and Minneapolis, are several months old. These towns are farlarger now. In fact, I have just seen a newspaper estimate which givesthe former seventy-one thousand, and the latter seventy-eight thousand. This book will not reach the public for six or seven months yet; none ofthe figures will be worth much then. 

We had a glimpse of Davenport, which is another beautiful city, crowninga hill--a phrase which applies to all these towns; for they are allcomely, all well built, clean, orderly, pleasant to the eye, andcheering to the spirit; and they are all situated upon hills. Thereforewe will give that phrase a rest. The Indians have a tradition thatMarquette and Joliet camped where Davenport now stands, in 1673. Thenext white man who camped there, did it about a hundred and seventyyears later--in 1834. Davenport has gathered its thirty thousand peoplewithin the past thirty years. She sends more children to her schoolsnow, than her whole population numbered twenty-three years ago. She hasthe usual Upper River quota of factories, newspapers, and institutionsof learning; she has telephones, local telegraphs, an electric alarm, and an admirable paid fire department, consisting of six hook and laddercompanies, four steam fire engines, and thirty churches. Davenport isthe official residence of two bishops--Episcopal and Catholic. 

Opposite Davenport is the flourishing town of Rock Island, which lies atthe foot of the Upper Rapids. A great railroad bridge connects the twotowns--one of the thirteen which fret the Mississippi and the pilots, between St. Louis and St. Paul. 

The charming island of Rock Island, three miles long and half a milewide, belongs to the United States, and the Government has turned itinto a wonderful park, enhancing its natural attractions by art, andthreading its fine forests with many miles of drives. Near the center ofthe island one catches glimpses, through the trees, of ten vast stonefour-story buildings, each of which covers an acre of ground. These arethe Government workshops; for the Rock Island establishment is anational armory and arsenal. 

We move up the river--always through enchanting scenery, there being noother kind on the Upper Mississippi--and pass Moline, a center of vastmanufacturing industries; and Clinton and Lyons, great lumber centers;and presently reach Dubuque, which is situated in a rich mineral region. The lead mines are very productive, and of wide extent. Dubuque has agreat number of manufacturing establishments; among them a plow factorywhich has for customers all Christendom in general. At least so I wastold by an agent of the concern who was on the boat. He said--

'You show me any country under the sun where they really know how toplow, and if I don't show you our mark on the plow they use, I'll eatthat plow; and I won't ask for any Woostershyre sauce to flavor it upwith, either. '

All this part of the river is rich in Indian history and traditions. Black Hawk's was once a puissant name hereabouts; as was Keokuk's, further down. A few miles below Dubuque is the Tete de Mort--Death's-head rock, or bluff--to the top of which the French drove a band ofIndians, in early times, and cooped them up there, with death for acertainty, and only the manner of it matter of choice--to starve, orjump off and kill themselves. Black Hawk adopted the ways of the whitepeople, toward the end of his life; and when he died he was buried, nearDes Moines, in Christian fashion, modified by Indian custom; that is tosay, clothed in a Christian military uniform, and with a Christian canein his hand, but deposited in the grave in a sitting posture. Formerly, a horse had always been buried with a chief. The substitution of thecane shows that Black Hawk's haughty nature was really humbled, and heexpected to walk when he got over. 

We noticed that above Dubuque the water of the Mississippi was olive-green--rich and beautiful and semi-transparent, with the sun on it. Ofcourse the water was nowhere as clear or of as fine a complexion as itis in some other seasons of the year; for now it was at flood stage, andtherefore dimmed and blurred by the mud manufactured from caving banks. 

The majestic bluffs that overlook the river, along through this region, charm one with the grace and variety of their forms, and the soft beautyof their adornment. The steep verdant slope, whose base is at thewater's edge is topped by a lofty rampart of broken, turreted rocks, which are exquisitely rich and mellow in color--mainly dark browns anddull greens, but splashed with other tints. And then you have theshining river, winding here and there and yonder, its sweep interruptedat intervals by clusters of wooded islands threaded by silver channels;and you have glimpses of distant villages, asleep upon capes; and ofstealthy rafts slipping along in the shade of the forest walls; and ofwhite steamers vanishing around remote points. And it is all as tranquiland reposeful as dreamland, and has nothing this-worldly about it--nothing to hang a fret or a worry upon. 

Until the unholy train comes tearing along--which it presently does, ripping the sacred solitude to rags and tatters with its devil'swarwhoop and the roar and thunder of its rushing wheels--and straightwayyou are back in this world, and with one of its frets ready to hand foryour entertainment: for you remember that this is the very road whosestock always goes down after you buy it, and always goes up again assoon as you sell it. It makes me shudder to this day, to remember thatI once came near not getting rid of my stock at all. It must be an awfulthing to have a railroad left on your hands. 

The locomotive is in sight from the deck of the steamboat almost thewhole way from St. Louis to St. Paul--eight hundred miles. Theserailroads have made havoc with the steamboat commerce. The clerk of ourboat was a steamboat clerk before these roads were built. In that daythe influx of population was so great, and the freight business soheavy, that the boats were not able to keep up with the demands madeupon their carrying capacity; consequently the captains were veryindependent and airy--pretty 'biggity, ' as Uncle Remus would say. Theclerk nut-shelled the contrast between the former time and the present, thus--

'Boat used to land--captain on hurricane roof--mighty stiff andstraight--iron ramrod for a spine--kid gloves, plug tile, hair partedbehind--man on shore takes off hat and says--

'"Got twenty-eight tons of wheat, cap'n--be great favor if you can takethem. "

'Captain says--

'"'ll take two of them"--and don't even condescend to look at him. 

'But nowadays the captain takes off his old slouch, and smiles all theway around to the back of his ears, and gets off a bow which he hasn'tgot any ramrod to interfere with, and says--

'"Glad to see you, Smith, glad to see you--you're looking well--haven'tseen you looking so well for years--what you got for us?"

'"Nuth'n", says Smith; and keeps his hat on, and just turns his back andgoes to talking with somebody else. 

'Oh, yes, eight years ago, the captain was on top; but it's Smith's turnnow. Eight years ago a boat used to go up the river with every stateroomfull, and people piled five and six deep on the cabin floor; and a soliddeck-load of immigrants and harvesters down below, into the bargain. Toget a first-class stateroom, you'd got to prove sixteen quarterings ofnobility and four hundred years of descent, or be personally acquaintedwith the nigger that blacked the captain's boots. But it's all changednow; plenty staterooms above, no harvesters below--there's a patentself-binder now, and they don't have harvesters any more; they've gonewhere the woodbine twineth--and they didn't go by steamboat, either;went by the train. '

Up in this region we met massed acres of lumber rafts coming down--butnot floating leisurely along, in the old-fashioned way, manned withjoyous and reckless crews of fiddling, song-singing, whiskey-drinking, breakdown-dancing rapscallions; no, the whole thing was shoved swiftlyalong by a powerful stern-wheeler, modern fashion, and the small crewswere quiet, orderly men, of a sedate business aspect, with not asuggestion of romance about them anywhere. 

Along here, somewhere, on a black night, we ran some exceedingly narrowand intricate island-chutes by aid of the electric light. Behind wassolid blackness--a crackless bank of it; ahead, a narrow elbow of water, curving between dense walls of foliage that almost touched our bows onboth sides; and here every individual leaf, and every individual ripplestood out in its natural color, and flooded with a glare as of noondayintensified. The effect was strange, and fine, and very striking. 

We passed Prairie du Chien, another of Father Marquette's camping-places; and after some hours of progress through varied and beautifulscenery, reached La Crosse. Here is a town of twelve or thirteenthousand population, with electric lighted streets, and with blocks ofbuildings which are stately enough, and also architecturally fineenough, to command respect in any city. It is a choice town, and we madesatisfactory use of the hour allowed us, in roaming it over, though theweather was rainier than necessary. 

Chapter 59 Legends and Scenery

WE added several passengers to our list, at La Crosse; among others anold gentleman who had come to this north-western region with the earlysettlers, and was familiar with every part of it. Pardonably proud ofit, too. He said--

'You'll find scenery between here and St. Paul that can give the Hudsonpoints. You'll have the Queen's Bluff--seven hundred feet high, andjust as imposing a spectacle as you can find anywheres; and TrempeleauIsland, which isn't like any other island in America, I believe, for itis a gigantic mountain, with precipitous sides, and is full of Indiantraditions, and used to be full of rattlesnakes; if you catch the sunjust right there, you will have a picture that will stay with you. Andabove Winona you'll have lovely prairies; and then come the ThousandIslands, too beautiful for anything; green? why you never saw foliage sogreen, nor packed so thick; it's like a thousand plush cushions afloaton a looking-glass--when the water 's still; and then the monstrousbluffs on both sides of the river--ragged, rugged, dark-complected--justthe frame that's wanted; you always want a strong frame, you know, tothrow up the nice points of a delicate picture and make them stand out. '

The old gentleman also told us a touching Indian legend or two--but notvery powerful ones. 

After this excursion into history, he came back to the scenery, anddescribed it, detail by detail, from the Thousand Islands to St. Paul;naming its names with such facility, tripping along his theme with suchnimble and confident ease, slamming in a three-ton word, here and there, with such a complacent air of 't isn't-anything, -I-can-do-it-any-time-I-want-to, and letting off fine surprises of lurid eloquence at suchjudicious intervals, that I presently began to suspect--

But no matter what I began to suspect. Hear him--

'Ten miles above Winona we come to Fountain City, nestling sweetly atthe feet of cliffs that lift their awful fronts, Jovelike, toward theblue depths of heaven, bathing them in virgin atmospheres that haveknown no other contact save that of angels' wings. 

'And next we glide through silver waters, amid lovely and stupendousaspects of nature that attune our hearts to adoring admiration, abouttwelve miles, and strike Mount Vernon, six hundred feet high, withromantic ruins of a once first-class hotel perched far among the cloudshadows that mottle its dizzy heights--sole remnant of once-flourishingMount Vernon, town of early days, now desolate and utterly deserted. 

'And so we move on. Past Chimney Rock we fly--noble shaft of sixhundred feet; then just before landing at Minnieska our attention isattracted by a most striking promontory rising over five hundred feet--the ideal mountain pyramid. Its conic shape--thickly-wooded surfacegirding its sides, and its apex like that of a cone, cause the spectatorto wonder at nature's workings. From its dizzy heights superb views ofthe forests, streams, bluffs, hills and dales below and beyond for milesare brought within its focus. What grander river scenery can beconceived, as we gaze upon this enchanting landscape, from the uppermostpoint of these bluffs upon the valleys below? The primeval wildness andawful loneliness of these sublime creations of nature and nature's God, excite feelings of unbounded admiration, and the recollection of whichcan never be effaced from the memory, as we view them in any direction. 

'Next we have the Lion's Head and the Lioness's Head, carved by nature'shand, to adorn and dominate the beauteous stream; and then anon theriver widens, and a most charming and magnificent view of the valleybefore us suddenly bursts upon our vision; rugged hills, clad withverdant forests from summit to base, level prairie lands, holding intheir lap the beautiful Wabasha, City of the Healing Waters, puissantfoe of Bright's disease, and that grandest conception of nature's works, incomparable Lake Pepin--these constitute a picture whereon thetourist's eye may gaze uncounted hours, with rapture unappeased andunappeasable. 

'And so we glide along; in due time encountering those majestic domes, the mighty Sugar Loaf, and the sublime Maiden's Rock--which latter, romantic superstition has invested with a voice; and oft-times as thebirch canoe glides near, at twilight, the dusky paddler fancies he hearsthe soft sweet music of the long-departed Winona, darling of Indian songand story. 

'Then Frontenac looms upon our vision, delightful resort of jaded summertourists; then progressive Red Wing; and Diamond Bluff, impressive andpreponderous in its lone sublimity; then Prescott and the St. Croix; andanon we see bursting upon us the domes and steeples of St. Paul, giantyoung chief of the North, marching with seven-league stride in the vanof progress, banner-bearer of the highest and newest civilization, carving his beneficent way with the tomahawk of commercial enterprise, sounding the warwhoop of Christian culture, tearing off the reekingscalp of sloth and superstition to plant there the steam-plow and theschool-house--ever in his front stretch arid lawlessness, ignorance, crime, despair; ever in his wake bloom the jail, the gallows, and thepulpit; and ever--'

'Have you ever traveled with a panorama?'

'I have formerly served in that capacity. '

My suspicion was confirmed. 

'Do you still travel with it?'

'No, she is laid up till the fall season opens. I am helping now towork up the materials for a Tourist's Guide which the St. Louis and St. Paul Packet Company are going to issue this summer for the benefit oftravelers who go by that line. '

'When you were talking of Maiden's Rock, you spoke of the long-departedWinona, darling of Indian song and story. Is she the maiden of therock?--and are the two connected by legend?'

'Yes, and a very tragic and painful one. Perhaps the most celebrated, as well as the most pathetic, of all the legends of the Mississippi. '

We asked him to tell it. He dropped out of his conversational vein andback into his lecture-gait without an effort, and rolled on as follows--

'A little distance above Lake City is a famous point known as Maiden'sRock, which is not only a picturesque spot, but is full of romanticinterest from the event which gave it its name, Not many years ago thislocality was a favorite resort for the Sioux Indians on account of thefine fishing and hunting to be had there, and large numbers of them werealways to be found in this locality. Among the families which used toresort here, was one belonging to the tribe of Wabasha. We-no-na(first-born) was the name of a maiden who had plighted her troth to alover belonging to the same band. But her stern parents had promisedher hand to another, a famous warrior, and insisted on her wedding him. The day was fixed by her parents, to her great grief. She appeared toaccede to the proposal and accompany them to the rock, for the purposeof gathering flowers for the feast. On reaching the rock, We-no-na ranto its summit and standing on its edge upbraided her parents who werebelow, for their cruelty, and then singing a death-dirge, threw herselffrom the precipice and dashed them in pieces on the rock below. '

'Dashed who in pieces--her parents?'

'Yes. '

'Well, it certainly was a tragic business, as you say. And moreover, there is a startling kind of dramatic surprise about it which I was notlooking for. It is a distinct improvement upon the threadbare form ofIndian legend. There are fifty Lover's Leaps along the Mississippi fromwhose summit disappointed Indian girls have jumped, but this is the onlyjump in the lot hat turned out in the right and satisfactory way. Whatbecame of Winona?'

'She was a good deal jarred up and jolted: but she got herself togetherand disappeared before the coroner reached the fatal spot; and 'tis saidshe sought and married her true love, and wandered with him to somedistant clime, where she lived happy ever after, her gentle spiritmellowed and chastened by the romantic incident which had so earlydeprived her of the sweet guidance of a mother's love and a father'sprotecting arm, and thrown her, all unfriended, upon the cold charity ofa censorious world. '

I was glad to hear the lecturer's description of the scenery, for itassisted my appreciation of what I saw of it, and enabled me to imaginesuch of it as we lost by the intrusion of night. 

As the lecturer remarked, this whole region is blanketed with Indiantales and traditions. But I reminded him that people usually merelymention this fact--doing it in a way to make a body's mouth water--andjudiciously stopped there. Why? Because the impression left, was thatthese tales were full of incident and imagination--a pleasant impressionwhich would be promptly dissipated if the tales were told. I showed hima lot of this sort of literature which I had been collecting, and heconfessed that it was poor stuff, exceedingly sorry rubbish; and Iventured to add that the legends which he had himself told us were ofthis character, with the single exception of the admirable story ofWinona. He granted these facts, but said that if I would hunt up Mr. Schoolcraft's book, published near fifty years ago, and now doubtlessout of print, I would find some Indian inventions in it that were veryfar from being barren of incident and imagination; that the tales inHiawatha were of this sort, and they came from Schoolcraft's book; andthat there were others in the same book which Mr. Longfellow could haveturned into verse with good effect. For instance, there was the legendof 'The Undying Head. ' He could not tell it, for many of the details hadgrown dim in his memory; but he would recommend me to find it andenlarge my respect for the Indian imagination. He said that this tale, and most of the others in the book, were current among the Indians alongthis part of the Mississippi when he first came here; and that thecontributors to Schoolcraft's book had got them directly from Indianlips, and had written them down with strict exactness, and withoutembellishments of their own. 

I have found the book. The lecturer was right. There are severallegends in it which confirm what he said. I will offer two of them--'The Undying Head, ' and 'Peboan and Seegwun, an Allegory of theSeasons. ' The latter is used in Hiawatha; but it is worth reading in theoriginal form, if only that one may see how effective a genuine poem canbe without the helps and graces of poetic measure and rhythm--

PEBOAN AND SEEGWUN. 

An old man was sitting alone in his lodge, by the side of a frozenstream. It was the close of winter, and his fire was almost out, Heappeared very old and very desolate. His locks were white with age, andhe trembled in every joint. Day after day passed in solitude, and heheard nothing but the sound of the tempest, sweeping before it the new-fallen snow. 

One day, as his fire was just dying, a handsome young man approached andentered his dwelling. His cheeks were red with the blood of youth, hiseyes sparkled with animation, and a smile played upon his lips. Hewalked with a light and quick step. His forehead was bound with awreath of sweet grass, in place of a warrior's frontlet, and he carrieda bunch of flowers in his hand. 

'Ah, my son, ' said the old man, 'I am happy to see you. Come in. Comeand tell me of your adventures, and what strange lands you have been tosee. Let us pass the night together. I will tell you of my prowess andexploits, and what I can perform. You shall do the same, and we willamuse ourselves. '

He then drew from his sack a curiously wrought antique pipe, and havingfilled it with tobacco, rendered mild by a mixture of certain leaves, handed it to his guest. When this ceremony was concluded they began tospeak. 

'I blow my breath, ' said the old man, 'and the stream stands still. Thewater becomes stiff and hard as clear stone. '

'I breathe, ' said the young man, 'and flowers spring up over the plain. '

'I shake my locks, ' retorted the old man, 'and snow covers the land. Theleaves fall from the trees at my command, and my breath blows them away. The birds get up from the water, and fly to a distant land. The animalshide themselves from my breath, and the very ground becomes as hard asflint. '

'I shake my ringlets, ' rejoined the young man, 'and warm showers of softrain fall upon the earth. The plants lift up their heads out of theearth, like the eyes of children glistening with delight. My voicerecalls the birds. The warmth of my breath unlocks the streams. Musicfills the groves wherever I walk, and all nature rejoices. '

At length the sun began to rise. A gentle warmth came over the place. The tongue of the old man became silent. The robin and bluebird began tosing on the top of the lodge. The stream began to murmur by the door, and the fragrance of growing herbs and flowers came softly on the vernalbreeze. 

Daylight fully revealed to the young man the character of hisentertainer. When he looked upon him, he had the icy visage ofPeboan. {footnote [Winter. ]} Streams began to flow from his eyes. As thesun increased, he grew less and less in stature, and anon had meltedcompletely away. Nothing remained on the place of his lodge-fire but themiskodeed, {footnote [The trailing arbutus. ]} a small white flower, witha pink border, which is one of the earliest species of northern plants. 

'The Undying Head' is a rather long tale, but it makes up in weirdconceits, fairy-tale prodigies, variety of incident, and energy ofmovement, for what it lacks in brevity. {footnote [See appendix D. ]}

Chapter 60 Speculations and Conclusions

WE reached St. Paul, at the head of navigation of the Mississippi, andthere our voyage of two thousand miles from New Orleans ended. It isabout a ten-day trip by steamer. It can probably be done quicker byrail. I judge so because I know that one may go by rail from St. Louisto Hannibal--a distance of at least a hundred and twenty miles--in sevenhours. This is better than walking; unless one is in a hurry. 

The season being far advanced when we were in New Orleans, the roses andmagnolia blossoms were falling; but here in St. Paul it was the snow, InNew Orleans we had caught an occasional withering breath from over acrater, apparently; here in St. Paul we caught a frequent benumbing onefrom over a glacier, apparently. 

But I wander from my theme. St. Paul is a wonderful town. It is puttogether in solid blocks of honest brick and stone, and has the air ofintending to stay. Its post-office was established thirty-six yearsago; and by and by, when the postmaster received a letter, he carried itto Washington, horseback, to inquire what was to be done with it. Suchis the legend. Two frame houses were built that year, and severalpersons were added to the population. A recent number of the leading St. Paul paper, the 'Pioneer Press, ' gives some statistics which furnish avivid contrast to that old state of things, to wit: Population, autumnof the present year (1882), 71, 000; number of letters handled, firsthalf of the year, 1, 209, 387; number of houses built during three-quarters of the year, 989; their cost, $3, 186, 000. The increase ofletters over the corresponding six months of last year was fifty percent. Last year the new buildings added to the city cost above$4, 500, 000. St. Paul's strength lies in her commerce--I mean hiscommerce. He is a manufacturing city, of course--all the cities of thatregion are--but he is peculiarly strong in the matter of commerce. Lastyear his jobbing trade amounted to upwards of $52, 000, 000. 

He has a custom-house, and is building a costly capitol to replace theone recently burned--for he is the capital of the State. He has churcheswithout end; and not the cheap poor kind, but the kind that the richProtestant puts up, the kind that the poor Irish 'hired-girl' delightsto erect. What a passion for building majestic churches the Irishhired-girl has. It is a fine thing for our architecture but too often weenjoy her stately fanes without giving her a grateful thought. In fact, instead of reflecting that 'every brick and every stone in thisbeautiful edifice represents an ache or a pain, and a handful of sweat, and hours of heavy fatigue, contributed by the back and forehead andbones of poverty, ' it is our habit to forget these things entirely, andmerely glorify the mighty temple itself, without vouchsafing onepraiseful thought to its humble builder, whose rich heart and witheredpurse it symbolizes. 

This is a land of libraries and schools. St. Paul has three publiclibraries, and they contain, in the aggregate, some forty thousandbooks. He has one hundred and sixteen school-houses, and pays out morethan seventy thousand dollars a year in teachers' salaries. 

There is an unusually fine railway station; so large is it, in fact, that it seemed somewhat overdone, in the matter of size, at first; butat the end of a few months it was perceived that the mistake wasdistinctly the other way. The error is to be corrected. 

The town stands on high ground; it is about seven hundred feet above thesea level. It is so high that a wide view of river and lowland isoffered from its streets. 

It is a very wonderful town indeed, and is not finished yet. All thestreets are obstructed with building material, and this is beingcompacted into houses as fast as possible, to make room for more--forother people are anxious to build, as soon as they can get the use ofthe streets to pile up their bricks and stuff in. 

How solemn and beautiful is the thought, that the earliest pioneer ofcivilization, the van-leader of civilization, is never the steamboat, never the railroad, never the newspaper, never the Sabbath-school, neverthe missionary--but always whiskey! Such is the case. Look historyover; you will see. The missionary comes after the whiskey--I mean hearrives after the whiskey has arrived; next comes the poor immigrant, with ax and hoe and rifle; next, the trader; next, the miscellaneousrush; next, the gambler, the desperado, the highwayman, and all theirkindred in sin of both sexes; and next, the smart chap who has bought upan old grant that covers all the land; this brings the lawyer tribe; thevigilance committee brings the undertaker. All these interests bring thenewspaper; the newspaper starts up politics and a railroad; all handsturn to and build a church and a jail--and behold, civilization isestablished for ever in the land. But whiskey, you see, was the van-leader in this beneficent work. It always is. It was like a foreigner--and excusable in a foreigner--to be ignorant of this great truth, andwander off into astronomy to borrow a symbol. But if he had beenconversant with the facts, he would have said--

Westward the Jug of Empire takes its way. 

This great van-leader arrived upon the ground which St. Paul nowoccupies, in June 1837. Yes, at that date, Pierre Parrant, a Canadian, built the first cabin, uncorked his jug, and began to sell whiskey tothe Indians. The result is before us. 

All that I have said of the newness, briskness, swift progress, wealth, intelligence, fine and substantial architecture, and general slash andgo, and energy of St. Paul, will apply to his near neighbor, Minneapolis--with the addition that the latter is the bigger of the twocities. 

These extraordinary towns were ten miles apart, a few months ago, butwere growing so fast that they may possibly be joined now, and gettingalong under a single mayor. At any rate, within five years from nowthere will be at least such a substantial ligament of buildingsstretching between them and uniting them that a stranger will not beable to tell where the one Siamese twin leaves off and the other begins. Combined, they will then number a population of two hundred and fiftythousand, if they continue to grow as they are now growing. Thus, thiscenter of population at the head of Mississippi navigation, will thenbegin a rivalry as to numbers, with that center of population at thefoot of it--New Orleans. 

Minneapolis is situated at the falls of St. Anthony, which stretchacross the river, fifteen hundred feet, and have a fall of eighty-twofeet--a waterpower which, by art, has been made of inestimable value, business-wise, though somewhat to the damage of the Falls as aspectacle, or as a background against which to get your photographtaken. 

Thirty flouring-mills turn out two million barrels of the very choicestof flour every year; twenty sawmills produce two hundred million feet oflumber annually; then there are woolen mills, cotton mills, paper andoil mills; and sash, nail, furniture, barrel, and other factories, without number, so to speak. The great flouring-mills here and at St. Paul use the 'new process' and mash the wheat by rolling, instead ofgrinding it. 

Sixteen railroads meet in Minneapolis, and sixty-five passenger trainsarrive and depart daily. In this place, as in St. Paul, journalismthrives. Here there are three great dailies, ten weeklies, and threemonthlies. 

There is a university, with four hundred students--and, better still, its good efforts are not confined to enlightening the one sex. There aresixteen public schools, with buildings which cost $500, 000; there aresix thousand pupils and one hundred and twenty-eight teachers. There arealso seventy churches existing, and a lot more projected. The banksaggregate a capital of $3, 000, 000, and the wholesale jobbing trade ofthe town amounts to $50, 000, 000 a year. 

Near St. Paul and Minneapolis are several points of interest--FortSnelling, a fortress occupying a river-bluff a hundred feet high; thefalls of Minnehaha, White-bear Lake, and so forth. The beautiful fallsof Minnehaha are sufficiently celebrated--they do not need a lift fromme, in that direction. The White-bear Lake is less known. It is alovely sheet of water, and is being utilized as a summer resort by thewealth and fashion of the State. It has its club-house, and its hotel, with the modern improvements and conveniences; its fine summerresidences; and plenty of fishing, hunting, and pleasant drives. Thereare a dozen minor summer resorts around about St. Paul and Minneapolis, but the White-bear Lake is the resort. Connected with White-bear Lake isa most idiotic Indian legend. I would resist the temptation to print ithere, if I could, but the task is beyond my strength. The guide-booknames the preserver of the legend, and compliments his 'facile pen. 'Without further comment or delay then, let us turn the said facile penloose upon the reader--

A LEGEND OF WHITE-BEAR LAKE. 

Every spring, for perhaps a century, or as long as there has been anation of red men, an island in the middle of White-bear Lake has beenvisited by a band of Indians for the purpose of making maple sugar. 

Tradition says that many springs ago, while upon this island, a youngwarrior loved and wooed the daughter of his chief, and it is said, also, the maiden loved the warrior. He had again and again been refused herhand by her parents, the old chief alleging that he was no brave, andhis old consort called him a woman!

The sun had again set upon the 'sugar-bush, ' and the bright moon rosehigh in the bright blue heavens, when the young warrior took down hisflute and went out alone, once more to sing the story of his love, themild breeze gently moved the two gay feathers in his head-dress, and ashe mounted on the trunk of a leaning tree, the damp snow fell from hisfeet heavily. As he raised his flute to his lips, his blanket slippedfrom his well-formed shoulders, and lay partly on the snow beneath. Hebegan his weird, wild love-song, but soon felt that he was cold, and ashe reached back for his blanket, some unseen hand laid it gently on hisshoulders; it was the hand of his love, his guardian angel. She took herplace beside him, and for the present they were happy; for the Indianhas a heart to love, and in this pride he is as noble as in his ownfreedom, which makes him the child of the forest. As the legend runs, alarge white-bear, thinking, perhaps, that polar snows and dismal winterweather extended everywhere, took up his journey southward. He at lengthapproached the northern shore of the lake which now bears his name, walked down the bank and made his way noiselessly through the deep heavysnow toward the island. It was the same spring ensuing that the loversmet. They had left their first retreat, and were now seated among thebranches of a large elm which hung far over the lake. (The same tree isstill standing, and excites universal curiosity and interest. ) For fearof being detected, they talked almost in a whisper, and now, that theymight get back to camp in good time and thereby avoid suspicion, theywere just rising to return, when the maiden uttered a shriek which washeard at the camp, and bounding toward the young brave, she caught hisblanket, but missed the direction of her foot and fell, bearing theblanket with her into the great arms of the ferocious monster. Instantlyevery man, woman, and child of the band were upon the bank, but allunarmed. Cries and wailings went up from every mouth. What was to bedone'? In the meantime this white and savage beast held the breathlessmaiden in his huge grasp, and fondled with his precious prey as if hewere used to scenes like this. One deafening yell from the loverwarrior is heard above the cries of hundreds of his tribe, and dashingaway to his wigwam he grasps his faithful knife, returns almost at asingle bound to the scene of fear and fright, rushes out along theleaning tree to the spot where his treasure fell, and springing with thefury of a mad panther, pounced upon his prey. The animal turned, andwith one stroke of his huge paw brought the lovers heart to heart, butthe next moment the warrior, with one plunge of the blade of his knife, opened the crimson sluices of death, and the dying bear relaxed hishold. 

That night there was no more sleep for the band or the lovers, and asthe young and the old danced about the carcass of the dead monster, thegallant warrior was presented with another plume, and ere another moonhad set he had a living treasure added to his heart. Their children formany years played upon the skin of the white-bear--from which the lakederives its name--and the maiden and the brave remembered long thefearful scene and rescue that made them one, for Kis-se-me-pa and Ka-go-ka could never forget their fearful encounter with the huge monster thatcame so near sending them to the happy hunting-ground. 

It is a perplexing business. First, she fell down out of the tree--sheand the blanket; and the bear caught her and fondled her--her and theblanket; then she fell up into the tree again--leaving the blanket;meantime the lover goes war-whooping home and comes back 'heeled, 'climbs the tree, jumps down on the bear, the girl jumps down after him--apparently, for she was up the tree--resumes her place in the bear'sarms along with the blanket, the lover rams his knife into the bear, andsaves--whom, the blanket? No--nothing of the sort. You get yourself allworked up and excited about that blanket, and then all of a sudden, justwhen a happy climax seems imminent you are let down flat--nothing savedbut the girl. Whereas, one is not interested in the girl; she is not theprominent feature of the legend. Nevertheless, there you are left, andthere you must remain; for if you live a thousand years you will neverknow who got the blanket. A dead man could get up a better legend thanthis one. I don't mean a fresh dead man either; I mean a man that's beendead weeks and weeks. 

We struck the home-trail now, and in a few hours were in thatastonishing Chicago--a city where they are always rubbing the lamp, andfetching up the genii, and contriving and achieving new impossibilities. It is hopeless for the occasional visitor to try to keep up withChicago--she outgrows his prophecies faster than he can make them. Sheis always a novelty; for she is never the Chicago you saw when youpassed through the last time. The Pennsylvania road rushed us to NewYork without missing schedule time ten minutes anywhere on the route;and there ended one of the most enjoyable five-thousand-mile journeys Ihave ever had the good fortune to make. 

APPENDIX A

(FROM THE NEW ORLEANS TIMES DEMOCRAT OF MARCH 29, 1882. )

VOYAGE OF THE TIMES-DEMOCRAT'S RELIEF BOAT THROUGH THE INUNDATED REGIONS

IT was nine o'clock Thursday morning when the 'Susie' left theMississippi and entered Old River, or what is now called the mouth ofthe Red. Ascending on the left, a flood was pouring in through and overthe levees on the Chandler plantation, the most northern point in PointeCoupee parish. The water completely covered the place, although thelevees had given way but a short time before. The stock had beengathered in a large flat-boat, where, without food, as we passed, theanimals were huddled together, waiting for a boat to tow them off. Onthe right-hand side of the river is Turnbull's Island, and on it is alarge plantation which formerly was pronounced one of the most fertilein the State. The water has hitherto allowed it to go scot-free in usualfloods, but now broad sheets of water told only where fields were. Thetop of the protecting levee could be seen here and there, but nearly allof it was submerged. 

The trees have put on a greener foliage since the water has poured in, and the woods look bright and fresh, but this pleasant aspect to the eyeis neutralized by the interminable waste of water. We pass mile aftermile, and it is nothing but trees standing up to their branches inwater. A water-turkey now and again rises and flies ahead into the longavenue of silence. A pirogue sometimes flits from the bushes andcrosses the Red River on its way out to the Mississippi, but the sad-faced paddlers never turn their heads to look at our boat. The puffingof the boat is music in this gloom, which affects one most curiously. Itis not the gloom of deep forests or dark caverns, but a peculiar kind ofsolemn silence and impressive awe that holds one perforce to itsrecognition. We passed two negro families on a raft tied up in thewillows this morning. They were evidently of the well-to-do class, asthey had a supply of meal and three or four hogs with them. Their raftswere about twenty feet square, and in front of an improvised shelterearth had been placed, on which they built their fire. 

The current running down the Atchafalaya was very swift, the Mississippishowing a predilection in that direction, which needs only to be seen toenforce the opinion of that river's desperate endeavors to find a shortway to the Gulf. Small boats, skiffs, pirogues, etc. , are in greatdemand, and many have been stolen by piratical negroes, who take themwhere they will bring the greatest price. From what was told me by Mr. C. P. Ferguson, a planter near Red River Landing, whose place has justgone under, there is much suffering in the rear of that place. Thenegroes had given up all thoughts of a crevasse there, as the upperlevee had stood so long, and when it did come they were at its mercy. On Thursday a number were taken out of trees and off of cabin roofs andbrought in, many yet remaining. 

One does not appreciate the sight of earth until he has traveled througha flood. At sea one does not expect or look for it, but here, withfluttering leaves, shadowy forest aisles, house-tops barely visible, itis expected. In fact a grave-yard, if the mounds were above water, would be appreciated. The river here is known only because there is anopening in the trees, and that is all. It is in width, from Fort Adamson the left bank of the Mississippi to the bank of Rapides Parish, adistance of about sixty miles. A large portion of this was undercultivation, particularly along the Mississippi and back of the Red. When Red River proper was entered, a strong current was running directlyacross it, pursuing the same direction as that of the Mississippi. 

After a run of some hours, Black River was reached. Hardly was itentered before signs of suffering became visible. All the willows alongthe banks were stripped of their leaves. One man, whom yourcorrespondent spoke to, said that he had had one hundred and fifty headof cattle and one hundred head of hogs. At the first appearance of waterhe had started to drive them to the high lands of Avoyelles, thirty-fivemiles off, but he lost fifty head of the beef cattle and sixty hogs. Black River is quite picturesque, even if its shores are under water. Adense growth of ash, oak, gum, and hickory make the shores almostimpenetrable, and where one can get a view down some avenue in thetrees, only the dim outlines of distant trunks can be barelydistinguished in the gloom. 

A few miles up this river, the depth of water on the banks was fullyeight feet, and on all sides could be seen, still holding against thestrong current, the tops of cabins. Here and there one overturned wassurrounded by drift-wood, forming the nucleus of possibly some futureisland. 

In order to save coal, as it was impossible to get that fuel at anypoint to be touched during the expedition, a look-out was kept for awood-pile. On rounding a point a pirogue, skilfully paddled by a youth, shot out, and in its bow was a girl of fifteen, of fair face, beautifulblack eyes, and demure manners. The boy asked for a paper, which wasthrown to him, and the couple pushed their tiny craft out into the swellof the boat. 

Presently a little girl, not certainly over twelve years, paddled out inthe smallest little canoe and handled it with all the deftness of an oldvoyageur. The little one looked more like an Indian than a white child, and laughed when asked if she were afraid. She had been raised in apirogue and could go anywhere. She was bound out to pick willow leavesfor the stock, and she pointed to a house near by with water threeinches deep on the floors. At its back door was moored a raft aboutthirty feet square, with a sort of fence built upon it, and inside ofthis some sixteen cows and twenty hogs were standing. The family didnot complain, except on account of losing their stock, and promptlybrought a supply of wood in a flat. 

From this point to the Mississippi River, fifteen miles, there is not aspot of earth above water, and to the westward for thirty-five milesthere is nothing but the river's flood. Black River had risen duringThursday, the 23rd, 1{three-quarters} inches, and was going up at nightstill. As we progress up the river habitations become more frequent, butare yet still miles apart. Nearly all of them are deserted, and theout-houses floated off. To add to the gloom, almost every living thingseems to have departed, and not a whistle of a bird nor the bark of thesquirrel can be heard in this solitude. Sometimes a morose gar willthrow his tail aloft and disappear in the river, but beyond thiseverything is quiet--the quiet of dissolution. Down the river floats nowa neatly whitewashed hen-house, then a cluster of neatly split fence-rails, or a door and a bloated carcass, solemnly guarded by a pair ofbuzzards, the only bird to be seen, which feast on the carcass as itbears them along. A picture-frame in which there was a cheap lithographof a soldier on horseback, as it floated on told of some hearth invadedby the water and despoiled of this ornament. 

At dark, as it was not prudent to run, a place alongside the woods washunted and to a tall gum-tree the boat was made fast for the night. 

A pretty quarter of the moon threw a pleasant light over forest andriver, making a picture that would be a delightful piece of landscapestudy, could an artist only hold it down to his canvas. The motion ofthe engines had ceased, the puffing of the escaping steam was stilled, and the enveloping silence closed upon us, and such silence it was!Usually in a forest at night one can hear the piping of frogs, the humof insects, or the dropping of limbs; but here nature was dumb. The darkrecesses, those aisles into this cathedral, gave forth no sound, andeven the ripplings of the current die away. 

At daylight Friday morning all hands were up, and up the Black westarted. The morning was a beautiful one, and the river, which isremarkably straight, put on its loveliest garb. The blossoms of the hawperfumed the air deliciously, and a few birds whistled blithely alongthe banks. The trees were larger, and the forest seemed of older growththan below. More fields were passed than nearer the mouth, but the samescene presented itself--smoke-houses drifting out in the pastures, negroquarters anchored in confusion against some oak, and the modestresidence just showing its eaves above water. The sun came up in aglory of carmine, and the trees were brilliant in their varied shades ofgreen. Not a foot of soil is to be seen anywhere, and the water isapparently growing deeper and deeper, for it reaches up to the branchesof the largest trees. All along, the bordering willows have been denudedof leaves, showing how long the people have been at work gathering thisfodder for their animals. An old man in a pirogue was asked how thewillow leaves agreed with his cattle. He stopped in his work, and withan ominous shake of his head replied: 'Well, sir, it 's enough to keepwarmth in their bodies and that's all we expect, but it's hard on thehogs, particularly the small ones. They is dropping off powerful fast. But what can you do? It 's all we've got. '

At thirty miles above the mouth of Black River the water extends fromNatchez on the Mississippi across to the pine hills of Louisiana, adistance of seventy-three miles, and there is hardly a spot that is notten feet under it. The tendency of the current up the Black is towardthe west. In fact, so much is this the case, the waters of Red Riverhave been driven down from toward the Calcasieu country, and the watersof the Black enter the Red some fifteen miles above the mouth of theformer, a thing never before seen by even the oldest steamboatmen. Thewater now in sight of us is entirely from the Mississippi. 

Up to Trinity, or rather Troy, which is but a short distance below, thepeople have nearly all moved out, those remaining having enough fortheir present personal needs. Their cattle, though, are suffering anddying off quite fast, as the confinement on rafts and the food they getbreeds disease. 

After a short stop we started, and soon came to a section where therewere many open fields and cabins thickly scattered about. Here were seenmore pictures of distress. On the inside of the houses the inmates hadbuilt on boxes a scaffold on which they placed the furniture. The bed-posts were sawed off on top, as the ceiling was not more than four feetfrom the improvised floor. The buildings looked very insecure, andthreatened every moment to float off. Near the houses were cattlestanding breast high in the water, perfectly impassive. They did notmove in their places, but stood patiently waiting for help to come. Thesight was a distressing one, and the poor creatures will be sure to dieunless speedily rescued. Cattle differ from horses in this peculiarquality. A horse, after finding no relief comes, will swim off insearch of food, whereas a beef will stand in its tracks until withexhaustion it drops in the water and drowns. 

At half-past twelve o'clock a hail was given from a flat-boat inside theline of the bank. Rounding to we ran alongside, and General Yorkstepped aboard. He was just then engaged in getting off stock, andwelcomed the 'Times-Democrat' boat heartily, as he said there was muchneed for her. He said that the distress was not exaggerated in theleast. People were in a condition it was difficult even for one toimagine. The water was so high there was great danger of their housesbeing swept away. It had already risen so high that it was approachingthe eaves, and when it reaches this point there is always imminent riskof their being swept away. If this occurs, there will be great loss oflife. The General spoke of the gallant work of many of the people intheir attempts to save their stock, but thought that fully twenty-fiveper cent. Had perished. Already twenty-five hundred people had receivedrations from Troy, on Black River, and he had towed out a great manycattle, but a very great quantity remained and were in dire need. Thewater was now eighteen inches higher than in 1874, and there was no landbetween Vidalia and the hills of Catahoula. 

At two o'clock the 'Susie' reached Troy, sixty-five miles above themouth of Black River. Here on the left comes in Little River; justbeyond that the Ouachita, and on the right the Tensas. These threerivers form the Black River. Troy, or a portion of it, is situated onand around three large Indian mounds, circular in shape, which riseabove the present water about twelve feet. They are about one hundredand fifty feet in diameter, and are about two hundred yards apart. Thehouses are all built between these mounds, and hence are all flooded toa depth of eighteen inches on their floors. 

These elevations, built by the aborigines, hundreds of years ago, arethe only points of refuge for miles. When we arrived we found themcrowded with stock, all of which was thin and hardly able to stand up. They were mixed together, sheep, hogs, horses, mules, and cattle. One ofthese mounds has been used for many years as the grave-yard, and to-daywe saw attenuated cows lying against the marble tomb-stones, chewingtheir cud in contentment, after a meal of corn furnished by GeneralYork. Here, as below, the remarkable skill of the women and girls inthe management of the smaller pirogues was noticed. Children werepaddling about in these most ticklish crafts with all the nonchalance ofadepts. 

General York has put into operation a perfect system in regard tofurnishing relief. He makes a personal inspection of the place where itis asked, sees what is necessary to be done, and then, having two boatschartered, with flats, sends them promptly to the place, when the cattleare loaded and towed to the pine hills and uplands of Catahoula. He hasmade Troy his headquarters, and to this point boats come for theirsupply of feed for cattle. On the opposite side of Little River, whichbranches to the left out of Black, and between it and the Ouachita, issituated the town of Trinity, which is hourly threatened withdestruction. It is much lower than Troy, and the water is eight and ninefeet deep in the houses. A strong current sweeps through it, and it isremarkable that all of its houses have not gone before. The residents ofboth Troy and Trinity have been cared for, yet some of their stock haveto be furnished with food. 

As soon as the 'Susie' reached Troy, she was turned over to GeneralYork, and placed at his disposition to carry out the work of relief morerapidly. Nearly all her supplies were landed on one of the mounds tolighten her, and she was headed down stream to relieve those below. AtTom Hooper's place, a few miles from Troy, a large flat, with aboutfifty head of stock on board, was taken in tow. The animals were fed, and soon regained some strength. To-day we go on Little River, where thesuffering is greatest. 

DOWN BLACK RIVER

Saturday Evening, March 25. 

We started down Black River quite early, under the direction of GeneralYork, to bring out what stock could be reached. Going down river a flatin tow was left in a central locality, and from there men poled her backin the rear of plantations, picking up the animals wherever found. Inthe loft of a gin-house there were seventeen head found, and after agangway was built they were led down into the flat without difficulty. Taking a skiff with the General, your reporter was pulled up to a littlehouse of two rooms, in which the water was standing two feet on thefloors. In one of the large rooms were huddled the horses and cows ofthe place, while in the other the Widow Taylor and her son were seatedon a scaffold raised on the floor. One or two dug-outs were driftingabout in the roam ready to be put in service at any time. When the flatwas brought up, the side of the house was cut away as the only means ofgetting the animals out, and the cattle were driven on board the boat. General York, in this as in every case, inquired if the family desiredto leave, informing them that Major Burke, of 'The Times-Democrat, ' hassent the 'Susie' up for that purpose. Mrs. Taylor said she thankedMajor Burke, but she would try and hold out. The remarkable tenacity ofthe people here to their homes is beyond all comprehension. Just below, at a point sixteen miles from Troy, information was received that thehouse of Mr. Tom Ellis was in danger, and his family were all in it. Westeamed there immediately, and a sad picture was presented. Looking outof the half of the window left above water, was Mrs. Ellis, who is infeeble health, whilst at the door were her seven children, the oldestnot fourteen years. One side of the house was given up to the workanimals, some twelve head, besides hogs. In the next room the familylived, the water coming within two inches of the bed-rail. The stove wasbelow water, and the cooking was done on a fire on top of it. The housethreatened to give way at any moment: one end of it was sinking, and, infact, the building looked a mere shell. As the boat rounded to, Mr. Ellis came out in a dug-out, and General York told him that he had cometo his relief; that 'The Times-Democrat' boat was at his service, andwould remove his family at once to the hills, and on Monday a flat wouldtake out his stock, as, until that time, they would be busy. Notwithstanding the deplorable situation himself and family were in, Mr. Ellis did not want to leave. He said he thought he would wait untilMonday, and take the risk of his house falling. The children around thedoor looked perfectly contented, seeming to care little for the dangerthey were in. These are but two instances of the many. After weeks ofprivation and suffering, people still cling to their houses and leaveonly when there is not room between the water and the ceiling to build ascaffold on which to stand. It seemed to be incomprehensible, yet thelove for the old place was stronger than that for safety. 

After leaving the Ellis place, the next spot touched at was the Oswaldplace. Here the flat was towed alongside the gin-house where there werefifteen head standing in water; and yet, as they stood on scaffolds, their heads were above the top of the entrance. It was found impossibleto get them out without cutting away a portion of the front; and so axeswere brought into requisition and a gap made. After much labor thehorses and mules were securely placed on the flat. 

At each place we stop there are always three, four, or more dug-outsarriving, bringing information of stock in other places in need. Notwithstanding the fact that a great many had driven a part of theirstock to the hills some time ago, there yet remains a large quantity, which General York, who is working with indomitable energy, will getlanded in the pine hills by Tuesday. 

All along Black River the 'Susie' has been visited by scores ofplanters, whose tales are the repetition of those already heard ofsuffering and loss. An old planter, who has lived on the river since1844, said there never was such a rise, and he was satisfied more thanone quarter of the stock has been lost. Luckily the people cared firstfor their work stock, and when they could find it horses and mules werehoused in a place of safety. The rise which still continues, and was twoinches last night, compels them to get them out to the hills; hence itis that the work of General York is of such a great value. From daylightto late at night he is going this way and that, cheering by his kindlywords and directing with calm judgment what is to be done. Oneunpleasant story, of a certain merchant in New Orleans, is told allalong the river. It appears for some years past the planters have beendealing with this individual, and many of them had balances in hishands. When the overflow came they wrote for coffee, for meal, and, infact, for such little necessities as were required. No response to theseletters came, and others were written, and yet these old customers, withplantations under water, were refused even what was necessary to sustainlife. It is needless to say he is not popular now on Back River. 

The hills spoken of as the place of refuge for the people and stock onBlack River are in Catahoula parish, twenty-four miles from Black River. 

After filling the flat with cattle we took on board the family of T. S. Hooper, seven in number, who could not longer remain in their dwelling, and we are now taking them up Little River to the hills. 

THE FLOOD STILL RISING

Troy: March 27, 1882, noon. 

The flood here is rising about three and a half inches every twenty-fourhours, and rains have set in which will increase this. General Yorkfeels now that our efforts ought to be directed towards saving life, asthe increase of the water has jeopardized many houses. We intend to goup the Tensas in a few minutes, and then we will return and go downBlack River to take off families. There is a lack of steamtransportation here to meet the emergency. The General has three boatschartered, with flats in tow, but the demand for these to tow out stockis greater than they can meet with promptness. All are working nightand day, and the 'Susie' hardly stops for more than an hour anywhere. The rise has placed Trinity in a dangerous plight, and momentarily it isexpected that some of the houses will float off. Troy is a littlehigher, yet all are in the water. Reports have come in that a woman andchild have been washed away below here, and two cabins floated off. Their occupants are the same who refused to come off day beforeyesterday. One would not believe the utter passiveness of the people. 

As yet no news has been received of the steamer 'Delia, ' which issupposed to be the one sunk in yesterday's storm on Lake Catahoula. Sheis due here now, but has not arrived. Even the mail here is mostuncertain, and this I send by skiff to Natchez to get it to you. It isimpossible to get accurate data as to past crops, etc. , as those whoknow much about the matter have gone, and those who remain are not wellversed in the production of this section. 

General York desires me to say that the amount of rations formerly sentshould be duplicated and sent at once. It is impossible to make anyestimate, for the people are fleeing to the hills, so rapid is the rise. The residents here are in a state of commotion that can only beappreciated when seen, and complete demoralization has set in, If rations are drawn for any particular section hereabouts, they wouldnot be certain to be distributed, so everything should be sent to Troyas a center, and the General will have it properly disposed of. He hassent for one hundred tents, and, if all go to the hills who are inmotion now, two hundred will be required. 

APPENDIX B

THE MISSISSIPPI RIVER COMMISSION

THE condition of this rich valley of the Lower Mississippi, immediatelyafter and since the war, constituted one of the disastrous effects ofwar most to be deplored. Fictitious property in slaves was not onlyrighteously destroyed, but very much of the work which had depended uponthe slave labor was also destroyed or greatly impaired, especially thelevee system. 

It might have been expected by those who have not investigated thesubject, that such important improvements as the construction andmaintenance of the levees would have been assumed at once by the severalStates. But what can the State do where the people are under subjectionto rates of interest ranging from 18 to 30 per cent. , and are also underthe necessity of pledging their crops in advance even of planting, atthese rates, for the privilege of purchasing all of their supplies at100 per cent. Profit?

It has needed but little attention to make it perfectly obvious that thecontrol of the Mississippi River, if undertaken at all, must beundertaken by the national government, and cannot be compassed byStates. The river must be treated as a unit; its control cannot becompassed under a divided or separate system of administration. 

Neither are the States especially interested competent to combine amongthemselves for the necessary operations. The work must begin far up theriver; at least as far as Cairo, if not beyond; and must be conductedupon a consistent general plan throughout the course of the river. 

It does not need technical or scientific knowledge to comprehend theelements of the case if one will give a little time and attention to thesubject, and when a Mississippi River commission has been constituted, as the existing commission is, of thoroughly able men of different walksin life, may it not be suggested that their verdict in the case shouldbe accepted as conclusive, so far as any a priori theory of constructionor control can be considered conclusive?

It should be remembered that upon this board are General Gilmore, General Comstock, and General Suter, of the United States Engineers;Professor Henry Mitchell (the most competent authority on the questionof hydrography), of the United States Coast Survey; B. B. Harrod, theState Engineer of Louisiana; Jas. B. Eads, whose success with thejetties at New Orleans is a warrant of his competency, and Judge Taylor, of Indiana. 

It would be presumption on the part of any single man, however skilled, to contest the judgment of such a board as this. 

The method of improvement proposed by the commission is at once inaccord with the results of engineering experience and with observationsof nature where meeting our wants. As in nature the growth of trees andtheir proneness where undermined to fall across the slope and supportthe bank secures at some points a fair depth of channel and some degreeof permanence, so in the project of the engineer the use of timber andbrush and the encouragement of forest growth are the main features. Itis proposed to reduce the width where excessive by brushwood dykes, atfirst low, but raised higher and higher as the mud of the river settlesunder their shelter, and finally slope them back at the angle upon whichwillows will grow freely. In this work there are many details connectedwith the forms of these shelter dykes, their arrangements so as topresent a series of settling basins, etc. , a description of which wouldonly complicate the conception. Through the larger part of the riverworks of contraction will not be required, but nearly all the banks onthe concave side of the beds must be held against the wear of thestream, and much of the opposite banks defended at critical points. Theworks having in view this conservative object may be generallydesignated works of revetment; and these also will be largely ofbrushwood, woven in continuous carpets, or twined into wire-netting. This veneering process has been successfully employed on the MissouriRiver; and in some cases they have so covered themselves with sediments, and have become so overgrown with willows, that they may be regarded aspermanent. In securing these mats rubble-stone is to be used in smallquantities, and in some instances the dressed slope between high and lowriver will have to be more or less paved with stone. 

Any one who has been on the Rhine will have observed operations notunlike those to which we have just referred; and, indeed, most of therivers of Europe flowing among their own alluvia have required similartreatment in the interest of navigation and agriculture. 

The levee is the crowning work of bank revetment, although notnecessarily in immediate connection. It may be set back a shortdistance from the revetted bank; but it is, in effect, the requisiteparapet. The flood river and the low river cannot be brought intoregister, and compelled to unite in the excavation of a single permanentchannel, without a complete control of all the stages; and even theabnormal rise must be provided against, because this would endanger thelevee, and once in force behind the works of revetment would tear themalso away. 

Under the general principle that the local slope of a river is theresult and measure of the resistance of its bed, it is evident that anarrow and deep stream should have less slope, because it has lessfrictional surface in proportion to capacity; i. E. , less perimeter inproportion to area of cross section. The ultimate effect of levees andrevetments confining the floods and bringing all the stages of the riverinto register is to deepen the channel and let down the slope. The firsteffect of the levees is to raise the surface; but this, by inducinggreater velocity of flow, inevitably causes an enlargement of section, and if this enlargement is prevented from being made at the expense ofthe banks, the bottom must give way and the form of the waterway be soimproved as to admit this flow with less rise. The actual experiencewith levees upon the Mississippi River, with no attempt to hold thebanks, has been favorable, and no one can doubt, upon the evidencefurnished in the reports of the commission, that if the earliest leveeshad been accompanied by revetment of banks, and made complete, we shouldhave to-day a river navigable at low water, and an adjacent country safefrom inundation. 

Of course it would be illogical to conclude that the constrained rivercan ever lower its flood slope so as to make levees unnecessary, but itis believed that, by this lateral constraint, the river as a conduit maybe so improved in form that even those rare floods which result from thecoincident rising of many tributaries will find vent without destroyinglevees of ordinary height. That the actual capacity of a channel throughalluvium depends upon its service during floods has been often shown, but this capacity does not include anomalous, but recurrent, floods. 

It is hardly worth while to consider the projects for relieving theMississippi River floods by creating new outlets, since thesesensational propositions have commended themselves only to unthinkingminds, and have no support among engineers. Were the river bed cast-iron, a resort to openings for surplus waters might be a necessity; butas the bottom is yielding, and the best form of outlet is a single deepchannel, as realizing the least ratio of perimeter to area of crosssection, there could not well be a more unphilosophical method oftreatment than the multiplication of avenues of escape. 

In the foregoing statement the attempt has been made to condense in aslimited a space as the importance of the subject would permit, thegeneral elements of the problem, and the general features of theproposed method of improvement which has been adopted by the MississippiRiver Commission. 

The writer cannot help feeling that it is somewhat presumptuous on hispart to attempt to present the facts relating to an enterprise whichcalls for the highest scientific skill; but it is a matter whichinterests every citizen of the United States, and is one of the methodsof reconstruction which ought to be approved. It is a war claim whichimplies no private gain, and no compensation except for one of the casesof destruction incident to war, which may well be repaired by the peopleof the whole country. 

EDWARD ATKINSON. 

Boston: April 14, 1882. 

APPENDIX C

RECEPTION OF CAPTAIN BASIL HALL'S BOOK IN THE UNITED STATES

HAVING now arrived nearly at the end of our travels, I am induced, ere Iconclude, again to mention what I consider as one of the most remarkabletraits in the national character of the Americans; namely, theirexquisite sensitiveness and soreness respecting everything said orwritten concerning them. Of this, perhaps, the most remarkable example Ican give is the effect produced on nearly every class of readers by theappearance of Captain Basil Hall's 'Travels in North America. ' In fact, it was a sort of moral earthquake, and the vibration it occasionedthrough the nerves of the republic, from one corner of the Union to theother, was by no means over when I left the country in July 1831, acouple of years after the shock. 

I was in Cincinnati when these volumes came out, but it was not tillJuly 1830, that I procured a copy of them. One bookseller to whom Iapplied told me that he had had a few copies before he understood thenature of the work, but that, after becoming acquainted with it, nothingshould induce him to sell another. Other persons of his professionmust, however, have been less scrupulous; for the book was read in city, town, village, and hamlet, steamboat, and stage-coach, and a sort ofwar-whoop was sent forth perfectly unprecedented in my recollection uponany occasion whatever. 

An ardent desire for approbation, and a delicate sensitiveness undercensure, have always, I believe, been considered as amiable traits ofcharacter; but the condition into which the appearance of Captain Hall'swork threw the republic shows plainly that these feelings, if carried toexcess, produce a weakness which amounts to imbecility. 

It was perfectly astonishing to hear men who, on other subjects, were ofsome judgment, utter their opinions upon this. I never heard of anyinstance in which the commonsense generally found in national criticismwas so overthrown by passion. I do not speak of the want of justice, andof fair and liberal interpretation: these, perhaps, were hardly to beexpected. Other nations have been called thin-skinned, but the citizensof the Union have, apparently, no skins at all; they wince if a breezeblows over them, unless it be tempered with adulation. It was not, therefore, very surprising that the acute and forcible observations of atraveler they knew would be listened to should be received testily. Theextraordinary features of the business were, first, the excess of therage into which they lashed themselves; and, secondly, the puerility ofthe inventions by which they attempted to account for the severity withwhich they fancied they had been treated. 

Not content with declaring that the volumes contained no word of truth, from beginning to end (which is an assertion I heard made very nearly asoften as they were mentioned), the whole country set to work to discoverthe causes why Captain Hall had visited the United States, and why hehad published his book. 

I have heard it said with as much precision and gravity as if thestatement had been conveyed by an official report, that Captain Hall hadbeen sent out by the British Government expressly for the purpose ofchecking the growing admiration of England for the Government of theUnited States, --that it was by a commission from the treasury he hadcome, and that it was only in obedience to orders that he had foundanything to object to. 

I do not give this as the gossip of a coterie; I am persuaded that it isthe belief of a very considerable portion of the country. So deep is theconviction of this singular people that they cannot be seen withoutbeing admired, that they will not admit the possibility that any oneshould honestly and sincerely find aught to disapprove in them or theircountry. 

The American Reviews are, many of them, I believe, well known inEngland; I need not, therefore, quote them here, but I sometimeswondered that they, none of them, ever thought of translating Obadiah'scurse into classic American; if they had done so, on placing (he, BasilHall) between brackets, instead of (he, Obadiah) it would have savedthem a world of trouble. 

I can hardly describe the curiosity with which I sat down at length toperuse these tremendous volumes; still less can I do justice to mysurprise at their contents. To say that I found not one exaggeratedstatement throughout the work is by no means saying enough. It isimpossible for any one who knows the country not to see that CaptainHall earnestly sought out things to admire and commend. When he praises, it is with evident pleasure; and when he finds fault, it is with evidentreluctance and restraint, excepting where motives purely patriotic urgehim to state roundly what it is for the benefit of his country should beknown. 

In fact, Captain Hall saw the country to the greatest possibleadvantage. Furnished, of course, with letters of introduction to themost distinguished individuals, and with the still more influentialrecommendation of his own reputation, he was received in full drawing-room style and state from one end of the Union to the other. He saw thecountry in full dress, and had little or no opportunity of judging of itunhouselled, unanointed, unannealed, with all its imperfections on itshead, as I and my family too often had. 

Captain Hall had certainly excellent opportunities of making himselfacquainted with the form of the government and the laws; and ofreceiving, moreover, the best oral commentary upon them, in conversationwith the most distinguished citizens. Of these opportunities he madeexcellent use; nothing important met his eye which did not receive thatsort of analytical attention which an experienced and philosophicaltraveler alone can give. This has made his volumes highly interestingand valuable; but I am deeply persuaded, that were a man of equalpenetration to visit the United States with no other means of becomingacquainted with the national character than the ordinary working-dayintercourse of life, he would conceive an infinitely lower idea of themoral atmosphere of the country than Captain Hall appears to have done;and the internal conviction on my mind is strong, that if Captain Hallhad not placed a firm restraint on himself, he must have givenexpression to far deeper indignation than any he has uttered againstmany points in the American character, with which he shows from othercircumstances that he was well acquainted. His rule appears to have beento state just so much of the truth as would leave on the mind of hisreaders a correct impression, at the least cost of pain to the sensitivefolks he was writing about. He states his own opinions and feelings, andleaves it to be inferred that he has good grounds for adopting them; buthe spares the Americans the bitterness which a detail of thecircumstances would have produced. 

If any one chooses to say that some wicked antipathy to twelve millionsof strangers is the origin of my opinion, I must bear it; and were thequestion one of mere idle speculation, I certainly would not court theabuse I must meet for stating it. But it is not so. 

. . . . . . . 

The candor which he expresses, and evidently feels, they mistake forirony, or totally distrust; his unwillingness to give pain to personsfrom whom he has received kindness, they scornfully reject asaffectation, and although they must know right well, in their own secrethearts, how infinitely more they lay at his mercy than he has chosen tobetray; they pretend, even to themselves, that he has exaggerated thebad points of their character and institutions; whereas, the truth is, that he has let them off with a degree of tenderness which may be quitesuitable for him to exercise, however little merited; while, at the sametime, he has most industriously magnified their merits, whenever hecould possibly find anything favorable. 

APPENDIX D

THE UNDYING HEAD

IN a remote part of the North lived a man and his sister, who had neverseen a human being. Seldom, if ever, had the man any cause to go fromhome; for, as his wants demanded food, he had only to go a littledistance from the lodge, and there, in some particular spot, place hisarrows, with their barbs in the ground. Telling his sister where theyhad been placed, every morning she would go in search, and never fail offinding each stuck through the heart of a deer. She had then only todrag them into the lodge and prepare their food. Thus she lived till sheattained womanhood, when one day her brother, whose name was Iamo, saidto her: 'Sister, the time is at hand when you will be ill. Listen tomy advice. If you do not, it will probably be the cause of my death. Take the implements with which we kindle our fires. Go some distancefrom our lodge and build a separate fire. When you are in want of food, I will tell you where to find it. You must cook for yourself, and I willfor myself. When you are ill, do not attempt to come near the lodge, orbring any of the utensils you use. Be sure always to fasten to yourbelt the implements you need, for you do not know when the time willcome. As for myself, I must do the best I can. ' His sister promised toobey him in all he had said. 

Shortly after, her brother had cause to go from home. She was alone inher lodge, combing her hair. She had just untied the belt to which theimplements were fastened, when suddenly the event, to which her brotherhad alluded, occurred. She ran out of the lodge, but in her haste forgotthe belt. Afraid to return, she stood for some time thinking. Finally, she decided to enter the lodge and get it. For, thought she, my brotheris not at home, and I will stay but a moment to catch hold of it. Shewent back. Running in suddenly, she caught hold of it, and was comingout when her brother came in sight. He knew what was the matter. 'Oh, 'he said, 'did I not tell you to take care. But now you have killed me. 'She was going on her way, but her brother said to her, 'What can you dothere now. The accident has happened. Go in, and stay where you havealways stayed. And what will become of you? You have killed me. '

He then laid aside his hunting-dress and accoutrements, and soon afterboth his feet began to turn black, so that he could not move. Still hedirected his sister where to place the arrows, that she might alwayshave food. The inflammation continued to increase, and had now reachedhis first rib; and he said: 'Sister, my end is near. You must do as Itell you. You see my medicine-sack, and my war-club tied to it. Itcontains all my medicines, and my war-plumes, and my paints of allcolors. As soon as the inflammation reaches my breast, you will take mywar-club. It has a sharp point, and you will cut off my head. When it isfree from my body, take it, place its neck in the sack, which you mustopen at one end. Then hang it up in its former place. Do not forget mybow and arrows. One of the last you will take to procure food. Theremainder, tie in my sack, and then hang it up, so that I can looktowards the door. Now and then I will speak to you, but not often. ' Hissister again promised to obey. 

In a little time his breast was affected. 'Now, ' said he, 'take theclub and strike off my head. ' She was afraid, but he told her to mustercourage. 'Strike, ' said he, and a smile was on his face. Mustering allher courage, she gave the blow and cut off the head. 'Now, ' said thehead, 'place me where I told you. ' And fearfully she obeyed it in allits commands. Retaining its animation, it looked around the lodge asusual, and it would command its sister to go in such places as itthought would procure for her the flesh of different animals she needed. One day the head said: 'The time is not distant when I shall be freedfrom this situation, and I shall have to undergo many sore evils. So thesuperior manito decrees, and I must bear all patiently. ' In thissituation we must leave the head. 

In a certain part of the country was a village inhabited by a numerousand warlike band of Indians. In this village was a family of ten youngmen--brothers. It was in the spring of the year that the youngest ofthese blackened his face and fasted. His dreams were propitious. Havingended his fast, he went secretly for his brothers at night, so that nonein the village could overhear or find out the direction they intended togo. Though their drum was heard, yet that was a common occurrence. Having ended the usual formalities, he told how favorable his dreamswere, and that he had called them together to know if they wouldaccompany him in a war excursion. They all answered they would. Thethird brother from the eldest, noted for his oddities, coming up withhis war-club when his brother had ceased speaking, jumped up. 'Yes, 'said he, 'I will go, and this will be the way I will treat those I amgoing to fight;' and he struck the post in the center of the lodge, andgave a yell. The others spoke to him, saying: 'Slow, slow, Mudjikewis, when you are in other people's lodges. ' So he sat down. Then, in turn, they took the drum, and sang their songs, and closed with a feast. Theyoungest told them not to whisper their intention to their wives, butsecretly to prepare for their journey. They all promised obedience, andMudjikewis was the first to say so. 

The time for their departure drew near. Word was given to assemble on acertain night, when they would depart immediately. Mudjikewis was loudin his demands for his moccasins. Several times his wife asked him thereason. 'Besides, ' said she, 'you have a good pair on. ' 'Quick, quick, ' said he, 'since you must know, we are going on a war excursion;so be quick. ' He thus revealed the secret. That night they met andstarted. The snow was on the ground, and they traveled all night, lestothers should follow them. When it was daylight, the leader took snowand made a ball of it, then tossing it into the air, he said: 'It was inthis way I saw snow fall in a dream, so that I could not be tracked. 'And he told them to keep close to each other for fear of losingthemselves, as the snow began to fall in very large flakes. Near as theywalked, it was with difficulty they could see each other. The snowcontinued falling all that day and the following night, so it wasimpossible to track them. 

They had now walked for several days, and Mudjikewis was always in therear. One day, running suddenly forward, he gave the SAW-SAW-QUAN, {footnote [War-whoop. ]} and struck a tree with his war-club, and itbroke into pieces as if struck with lightning. 'Brothers, ' said he, 'this will be the way I will serve those we are going to fight. ' Theleader answered, 'Slow, slow, Mudjikewis, the one I lead you to is notto be thought of so lightly. ' Again he fell back and thought tohimself: 'What! what! who can this be he is leading us to?' He feltfearful and was silent. Day after day they traveled on, till they cameto an extensive plain, on the borders of which human bones werebleaching in the sun. The leader spoke: 'They are the bones of thosewho have gone before us. None has ever yet returned to tell the sad taleof their fate. ' Again Mudjikewis became restless, and, running forward, gave the accustomed yell. Advancing to a large rock which stood abovethe ground, he struck it, and it fell to pieces. 'See, brothers, ' saidhe, 'thus will I treat those whom we are going to fight. ' 'Still, still, ' once more said the leader; 'he to whom I am leading you is notto be compared to the rock. '

Mudjikewis fell back thoughtful, saying to himself: 'I wonder who thiscan be that he is going to attack;' and he was afraid. Still theycontinued to see the remains of former warriors, who had been to theplace where they were now going, some of whom had retreated as far backas the place where they first saw the bones, beyond which no one hadever escaped. At last they came to a piece of rising ground, from whichthey plainly distinguished, sleeping on a distant mountain, a mammothbear. 

The distance between them was very great, but the size of the animalcaused him to be plainly seen. 'There, ' said the leader, 'it is he towhom I am leading you; here our troubles will commence, for he is amishemokwa and a manito. It is he who has that we prize so dearly (i. E. Wampum), to obtain which, the warriors whose bones we saw, sacrificedtheir lives. You must not be fearful: be manly. We shall find himasleep. ' Then the leader went forward and touched the belt around theanimal's neck. 'This, ' said he, 'is what we must get. It contains thewampum. ' Then they requested the eldest to try and slip the belt overthe bear's head, who appeared to be fast asleep, as he was not in theleast disturbed by the attempt to obtain the belt. All their effortswere in vain, till it came to the one next the youngest. He tried, andthe belt moved nearly over the monster's head, but he could get it nofarther. Then the youngest one, and the leader, made his attempt, andsucceeded. Placing it on the back of the oldest, he said, 'Now we mustrun, ' and off they started. When one became fatigued with its weight, another would relieve him. Thus they ran till they had passed the bonesof all former warriors, and were some distance beyond, when lookingback, they saw the monster slowly rising. He stood some time before hemissed his wampum. Soon they heard his tremendous howl, like distantthunder, slowly filling all the sky; and then they heard him speak andsay, 'Who can it be that has dared to steal my wampum? earth is not solarge but that I can find them;' and he descended from the hill inpursuit. As if convulsed, the earth shook with every jump he made. Verysoon he approached the party. They, however, kept the belt, exchangingit from one to another, and encouraging each other; but he gained onthem fast. 'Brothers, ' said the leader, 'has never any one of you, whenfasting, dreamed of some friendly spirit who would aid you as aguardian?' A dead silence followed. 'Well, ' said he, 'fasting, Idreamed of being in danger of instant death, when I saw a small lodge, with smoke curling from its top. An old man lived in it, and I dreamedhe helped me; and may it be verified soon, ' he said, running forward andgiving the peculiar yell, and a howl as if the sounds came from thedepths of his stomach, and what is called CHECAUDUM. Getting upon apiece of rising ground, behold! a lodge, with smoke curling from itstop, appeared. This gave them all new strength, and they ran forwardand entered it. The leader spoke to the old man who sat in the lodge, saying, 'Nemesho, help us; we claim your protection, for the great bearwill kill us. ' 'Sit down and eat, my grandchildren, ' said the old man. 'Who is a great manito?' said he. 'There is none but me; but let melook, ' and he opened the door of the lodge, when, lo! at a littledistance he saw the enraged animal coming on, with slow but powerfulleaps. He closed the door. 'Yes, ' said he, 'he is indeed a greatmanito: my grandchildren, you will be the cause of my losing my life;you asked my protection, and I granted it; so now, come what may, I willprotect you. When the bear arrives at the door, you must run out of theother door of the lodge. ' Then putting his hand to the side of thelodge where he sat, he brought out a bag which he opened. Taking out twosmall black dogs, he placed them before him. 'These are the ones I usewhen I fight, ' said he; and he commenced patting with both hands thesides of one of them, and he began to swell out, so that he soon filledthe lodge by his bulk; and he had great strong teeth. When he attainedhis full size he growled, and from that moment, as from instinct, hejumped out at the door and met the bear, who in another leap would havereached the lodge. A terrible combat ensued. The skies rang with thehowls of the fierce monsters. The remaining dog soon took the field. The brothers, at the onset, took the advice of the old man, and escapedthrough the opposite side of the lodge. They had not proceeded farbefore they heard the dying cry of one of the dogs, and soon after ofthe other. 'Well, ' said the leader, 'the old man will share their fate:so run; he will soon be after us. ' They started with fresh vigor, forthey had received food from the old man: but very soon the bear came insight, and again was fast gaining upon them. Again the leader asked thebrothers if they could do nothing for their safety. All were silent. The leader, running forward, did as before. 'I dreamed, ' he cried, 'that, being in great trouble, an old man helped me who was a manito; weshall soon see his lodge. ' Taking courage, they still went on. Aftergoing a short distance they saw the lodge of the old manito. Theyentered immediately and claimed his protection, telling him a manito wasafter them. The old man, setting meat before them, said: 'Eat! who is amanito? there is no manito but me; there is none whom I fear;' and theearth trembled as the monster advanced. The old man opened the door andsaw him coming. He shut it slowly, and said: 'Yes, my grandchildren, you have brought trouble upon me. ' Procuring his medicine-sack, he tookout his small war-clubs of black stone, and told the young men to runthrough the other side of the lodge. As he handled the clubs, theybecame very large, and the old man stepped out just as the bear reachedthe door. Then striking him with one of the clubs, it broke in pieces;the bear stumbled. Renewing the attempt with the other war-club, thatalso was broken, but the bear fell senseless. Each blow the old man gavehim sounded like a clap of thunder, and the howls of the bear ran alongtill they filled the heavens. 

The young men had now run some distance, when they looked back. Theycould see that the bear was recovering from the blows. First he movedhis paws, and soon they saw him rise on his feet. The old man sharedthe fate of the first, for they now heard his cries as he was torn inpieces. Again the monster was in pursuit, and fast overtaking them. Notyet discouraged, the young men kept on their way; but the bear was nowso close, that the leader once more applied to his brothers, but theycould do nothing. 'Well, ' said he, 'my dreams will soon be exhausted;after this I have but one more. ' He advanced, invoking his guardianspirit to aid him. 'Once, ' said he, 'I dreamed that, being sorelypressed, I came to a large lake, on the shore of which was a canoe, partly out of water, having ten paddles all in readiness. Do not fear, 'he cried, 'we shall soon get it. ' And so it was, even as he had said. Coming to the lake, they saw the canoe with ten paddles, and immediatelythey embarked. Scarcely had they reached the center of the lake, whenthey saw the bear arrive at its borders. Lifting himself on his hindlegs, he looked all around. Then he waded into the water; then losinghis footing he turned back, and commenced making the circuit of thelake. Meantime the party remained stationary in the center to watch hismovements. He traveled all around, till at last he came to the placefrom whence he started. Then he commenced drinking up the water, andthey saw the current fast setting in towards his open mouth. The leaderencouraged them to paddle hard for the opposite shore. When only a shortdistance from land, the current had increased so much, that they weredrawn back by it, and all their efforts to reach it were in vain. 

Then the leader again spoke, telling them to meet their fates manfully. 'Now is the time, Mudjikewis, ' said he, 'to show your prowess. Takecourage and sit at the bow of the canoe; and when it approaches hismouth, try what effect your club will have on his head. ' He obeyed, andstood ready to give the blow; while the leader, who steered, directedthe canoe for the open mouth of the monster. 

Rapidly advancing, they were just about to enter his mouth, whenMudjikewis struck him a tremendous blow on the head, and gave the SAW-SAW-QUAN. The bear's limbs doubled under him, and he fell, stunned bythe blow. But before Mudjikewis could renew it, the monster disgorgedall the water he had drank, with a force which sent the canoe with greatvelocity to the opposite shore. Instantly leaving the canoe, again theyfled, and on they went till they were completely exhausted. The earthagain shook, and soon they saw the monster hard after them. Theirspirits drooped, and they felt discouraged. The leader exerted himself, by actions and words, to cheer them up; and once more he asked them ifthey thought of nothing, or could do nothing for their rescue; and, asbefore, all were silent. 'Then, ' he said, 'this is the last time I canapply to my guardian spirit. Now, if we do not succeed, our fates aredecided. ' He ran forward, invoking his spirit with great earnestness, and gave the yell. 'We shall soon arrive, ' said he to his brothers, 'atthe place where my last guardian spirit dwells. In him I place greatconfidence. Do not, do not be afraid, or your limbs will be fear-bound. We shall soon reach his lodge. Run, run, ' he cried. 

Returning now to Iamo, he had passed all the time in the same conditionwe had left him, the head directing his sister, in order to procurefood, where to place the magic arrows, and speaking at long intervals. One day the sister saw the eyes of the head brighten, as if withpleasure. At last it spoke. 'Oh, sister, ' it said, 'in what a pitifulsituation you have been the cause of placing me! Soon, very soon, aparty of young men will arrive and apply to me for aid; but alas! Howcan I give what I would have done with so much pleasure? Nevertheless, take two arrows, and place them where you have been in the habit ofplacing the others, and have meat prepared and cooked before theyarrive. When you hear them coming and calling on my name, go out andsay, "Alas! it is long ago that an accident befell him. I was the causeof it. " If they still come near, ask them in, and set meat before them. And now you must follow my directions strictly. When the bear is near, go out and meet him. You will take my medicine-sack, bows and arrows, and my head. You must then untie the sack, and spread out before you mypaints of all colors, my war-eagle feathers, my tufts of dried hair, andwhatever else it contains. As the bear approaches, you will take allthese articles, one by one, and say to him, "This is my deceasedbrother's paint, " and so on with all the other articles, throwing eachof them as far as you can. The virtues contained in them will cause himto totter; and, to complete his destruction, you will take my head, andthat too you will cast as far off as you can, crying aloud, "See, thisis my deceased brother's head. " He will then fall senseless. By thistime the young men will have eaten, and you will call them to yourassistance. You must then cut the carcass into pieces, yes, into smallpieces, and scatter them to the four winds; for, unless you do this, hewill again revive. ' She promised that all should be done as he said. She had only time to prepare the meat, when the voice of the leader washeard calling upon Iamo for aid. The woman went out and said as herbrother had directed. But the war party being closely pursued, came upto the lodge. She invited them in, and placed the meat before them. While they were eating, they heard the bear approaching. Untying themedicine-sack and taking the head, she had all in readiness for hisapproach. When he came up she did as she had been told; and, before shehad expended the paints and feathers, the bear began to totter, but, still advancing, came close to the woman. Saying as she was commanded, she then took the head, and cast it as far from her as she could. As itrolled along the ground, the blood, excited by the feelings of the headin this terrible scene, gushed from the nose and mouth. The bear, tottering, soon fell with a tremendous noise. Then she cried for help, and the young men came rushing out, having partially regained theirstrength and spirits. 

Mudjikewis, stepping up, gave a yell and struck him a blow upon thehead. This he repeated, till it seemed like a mass of brains, while theothers, as quick as possible, cut him into very small pieces, which theythen scattered in every direction. While thus employed, happening tolook around where they had thrown the meat, wonderful to behold, theysaw starting up and turning off in every direction small black bears, such as are seen at the present day. The country was soon overspreadwith these black animals. And it was from this monster that the presentrace of bears derived their origin. 

Having thus overcome their pursuer, they returned to the lodge. In themeantime, the woman, gathering the implements she had used, and thehead, placed them again in the sack. But the head did not speak again, probably from its great exertion to overcome the monster. 

Having spent so much time and traversed so vast a country in theirflight, the young men gave up the idea of ever returning to their owncountry, and game being plenty, they determined to remain where they nowwere. One day they moved off some distance from the lodge for thepurpose of hunting, having left the wampum with the woman. They werevery successful, and amused themselves, as all young men do when alone, by talking and jesting with each other. One of them spoke and said, 'Wehave all this sport to ourselves; let us go and ask our sister if shewill not let us bring the head to this place, as it is still alive. Itmay be pleased to hear us talk, and be in our company. In the meantimetake food to our sister. ' They went and requested the head. She toldthem to take it, and they took it to their hunting-grounds, and tried toamuse it, but only at times did they see its eyes beam with pleasure. One day, while busy in their encampment, they were unexpectedly attackedby unknown Indians. The skirmish was long contested and bloody; many oftheir foes were slain, but still they were thirty to one. The young menfought desperately till they were all killed. The attacking party thenretreated to a height of ground, to muster their men, and to count thenumber of missing and slain. One of their young men had stayed away, and, in endeavoring to overtake them, came to the place where the headwas hung up. Seeing that alone retain animation, he eyed it for sometime with fear and surprise. However, he took it down and opened thesack, and was much pleased to see the beautiful feathers, one of whichhe placed on his head. 

Starting off, it waved gracefully over him till he reached his party, when he threw down the head and sack, and told them how he had found it, and that the sack was full of paints and feathers. They all looked atthe head and made sport of it. Numbers of the young men took the paintand painted themselves, and one of the party took the head by the hairand said--

'Look, you ugly thing, and see your paints on the faces of warriors. '

But the feathers were so beautiful, that numbers of them also placedthem on their heads. Then again they used all kinds of indignity to thehead, for which they were in turn repaid by the death of those who hadused the feathers. Then the chief commanded them to throw away allexcept the head. 'We will see, ' said he, 'when we get home, what we cando with it. We will try to make it shut its eyes. '

When they reached their homes they took it to the council-lodge, andhung it up before the fire, fastening it with raw hide soaked, whichwould shrink and become tightened by the action of the fire. 'We willthen see, ' they said, 'if we cannot make it shut its eyes. '

Meantime, for several days, the sister had been waiting for the youngmen to bring back the head; till, at last, getting impatient, she wentin search of it. The young men she found lying within short distancesof each other, dead, and covered with wounds. Various other bodies layscattered in different directions around them. She searched for the headand sack, but they were nowhere to be found. She raised her voice andwept, and blackened her face. Then she walked in different directions, till she came to the place from whence the head had been taken. Thenshe found the magic bow and arrows, where the young men, ignorant oftheir qualities, had left them. She thought to herself that she wouldfind her brother's head, and came to a piece of rising ground, and theresaw some of his paints and feathers. These she carefully put up, andhung upon the branch of a tree till her return. 

At dusk she arrived at the first lodge of a very extensive village. Hereshe used a charm, common among Indians when they wish to meet with akind reception. On applying to the old man and woman of the lodge, shewas kindly received. She made known her errand. The old man promised toaid her, and told her the head was hung up before the council-fire, andthat the chiefs of the village, with their young men, kept watch over itcontinually. The former are considered as manitoes. She said she onlywished to see it, and would be satisfied if she could only get to thedoor of the lodge. She knew she had not sufficient power to take it byforce. 'Come with me, ' said the Indian, 'I will take you there. ' Theywent, and they took their seats near the door. The council-lodge wasfilled with warriors, amusing themselves with games, and constantlykeeping up a fire to smoke the head, as they said, to make dry meat. They saw the head move, and not knowing what to make of it, one spokeand said: 'Ha! ha! It is beginning to feel the effects of the smoke. 'The sister looked up from the door, and her eyes met those of herbrother, and tears rolled down the cheeks of the head. 'Well, ' said thechief, 'I thought we would make you do something at last. Look! look atit--shedding tears, ' said he to those around him; and they all laughedand passed their jokes upon it. The chief, looking around, andobserving the woman, after some time said to the man who came with her:'Who have you got there? I have never seen that woman before in ourvillage. ' 'Yes, ' replied the man, 'you have seen her; she is a relationof mine, and seldom goes out. She stays at my lodge, and asked me toallow her to come with me to this place. ' In the center of the lodge satone of those young men who are always forward, and fond of boasting anddisplaying themselves before others. 'Why, ' said he, 'I have seen heroften, and it is to this lodge I go almost every night to court her. 'All the others laughed and continued their games. The young man did notknow he was telling a lie to the woman's advantage, who by that meansescaped. 

She returned to the man's lodge, and immediately set out for her owncountry. Coming to the spot where the bodies of her adopted brotherslay, she placed them together, their feet toward the east. Then takingan ax which she had, she cast it up into the air, crying out, 'Brothers, get up from under it, or it will fall on you. ' This she repeated threetimes, and the third time the brothers all arose and stood on theirfeet. 

Mudjikewis commenced rubbing his eyes and stretching himself. 'Why, 'said he, 'I have overslept myself. ' 'No, indeed, ' said one of theothers, 'do you not know we were all killed, and that it is our sisterwho has brought us to life?' The young men took the bodies of theirenemies and burned them. Soon after, the woman went to procure wives forthem, in a distant country, they knew not where; but she returned withten young women, which she gave to the ten young men, beginning with theeldest. Mudjikewis stepped to and fro, uneasy lest he should not getthe one he liked. But he was not disappointed, for she fell to his lot. And they were well matched, for she was a female magician. They then allmoved into a very large lodge, and their sister told them that the womenmust now take turns in going to her brother's head every night, tryingto untie it. They all said they would do so with pleasure. The eldestmade the first attempt, and with a rushing noise she fled through theair. 

Toward daylight she returned. She had been unsuccessful, as shesucceeded in untying only one of the knots. All took their turnsregularly, and each one succeeded in untying only one knot each time. But when the youngest went, she commenced the work as soon as shereached the lodge; although it had always been occupied, still theIndians never could see any one. For ten nights now, the smoke had notascended, but filled the lodge and drove them out. This last night theywere all driven out, and the young woman carried off the head. 

The young people and the sister heard the young woman coming highthrough the air, and they heard her saying: 'Prepare the body of ourbrother. ' And as soon as they heard it, they went to a small lodgewhere the black body of Iamo lay. His sister commenced cutting the neckpart, from which the neck had been severed. She cut so deep as to causeit to bleed; and the others who were present, by rubbing the body andapplying medicines, expelled the blackness. In the meantime, the onewho brought it, by cutting the neck of the head, caused that also tobleed. 

As soon as she arrived, they placed that close to the body, and, by aidof medicines and various other means, succeeded in restoring Iamo to allhis former beauty and manliness. All rejoiced in the happy terminationof their troubles, and they had spent some time joyfully together, whenIamo said: 'Now I will divide the wampum, ' and getting the belt whichcontained it, he commenced with the eldest, giving it in equal portions. But the youngest got the most splendid and beautiful, as the bottom ofthe belt held the richest and rarest. 

They were told that, since they had all once died, and were restored tolife, they were no longer mortal, but spirits, and they were assigneddifferent stations in the invisible world. Only Mudjikewis's place was, however, named. He was to direct the west wind, hence generally calledKebeyun, there to remain for ever. They were commanded, as they had itin their power, to do good to the inhabitants of the earth, and, forgetting their sufferings in procuring the wampum, to give all thingswith a liberal hand. And they were also commanded that it should also beheld by them sacred; those grains or shells of the pale hue to beemblematic of peace, while those of the darker hue would lead to eviland war. 

The spirits then, amid songs and shouts, took their flight to theirrespective abodes on high; while Iamo, with his sister Iamoqua, descended into the depths below.