By the time we had well seen the falls, and made some sketches and notes, the indefatigable canoemen announced our baggage all carried over the portage, and the canoes put into the water. Embarking, at this point, we found the river had lost its velocity; it was often difficult to determine that it had any current at all. We wound about, by a most tortuous channel, through savannas where coarse species of grass, flags, reeds, and wild rice struggled for the mastery. The whole country appeared to be one flat surface, where the sameness of the objects, the heat of the weather, and the excessively serpentine channel of the river, conspired to render the way tedious. The banks of the river were but just elevated above these illimitable fields of grass and aquatic plants. In these banks the gulls had their nests, and as they were disturbed they uttered deafening screams. Water-fowl were intruded upon at every turn, the blackbird and rail chattered over their clusters of reeds and cat-tails; the falcon screamed on high, as he quietly sailed above our heads, and the whole feathered creation appeared to be decidedly intruded on by our unwonted advance into the great watery plateau, to say nothing of the small and unimportant class of reptiles who inhabit the region.
Forty miles above the falls, the River Vermilion flows in through these savannas on the left hand; and three miles higher the Deer River is tributary on the right hand. We ascended six miles above the latter, and encamped in a dry prairie, on the same side, at a late hour. The men reported themselves to have travelled sixteen leagues, notwithstanding their detention on the Pakagama Portage. How far we had advanced, in a direct line, is very questionable. At one spot, we estimated ourselves to have passed, by the river's involutions, nine miles, but to have advanced directly but one mile. I noticed, on the meadow at this spot, a small and very delicious species of raspberry, the plant not rising higher than three or four inches. This species, of which I preserved both the roots and fruit, I referred to Dr. J. Torrey, of New York, who pronounced it the Rebus Nutkanus of Moçino—a species found by this observer in the Oregon regions. It is now known to occur eastwardly, to upper Michigan. As night approached on these elevated prairies, we observed for the first time the fire-fly.
The next morning (20th) we were again in motion at half-past five o'clock. It had rained during the night, and the morning was cloudy, with a dense fog. At the distance of ten miles, we passed the Leech Lake River. This is a very considerable river, bringing in, apparently, one-third as much water as the main branch. It is, however, but fifty miles in length, and is merely the outlet of the large lake bearing that name. It was thought the current of the Mississippi denoted greater velocity above this point, while the water exhibited greater clearness. We had still the same savanna regions, with a serpentine channel to encounter. Through this the men urged their way for a distance of thirty-five miles, when Winnipek Lake displayed itself before us. The waters of this lake have a whitish, slightly turbid aspect, after the prevalence of storms, which appears to reveal its shallowness, with a probably whitish clay bottom. The Chippewa name of Winnebeegogish [72] is, indeed, derivative from this circumstance. This lake is stated to be ten miles in its greatest length. We crossed it transversely in order to strike the inlet of the Mississippi, and encamped on the other side. In this transit we met a couple of Indian women in a canoe, who, being interrogated by the interpreter, stated that they came to observe whether the wild rice, which is quite an item of the Indian subsistence in this quarter, was matured enough to be tied into clusters for beating out. We estimated our advance this day, by the time denoted by the chronometer, at fifty-one miles.
We were again in our canoes the next morning at half-past four o'clock. In coasting along the north shores of Winnipek Lake, an object of limy whiteness attracted our attention, which turned out to be a small island composed of granitical and other boulders, which had served as the resting-place of birds, for which the region above the Pakagama Falls is so remarkable. On landing, a dead pelican was stretched on the surface. We had not before observed this species on the river, and named the island Shayta, from its Chippewa name. The buzzard, cormorant, brant, eagle, and raven had hitherto constituted the largest species. Along the shores of the river, the king-fisher and heron had been frequent objects. With respect to the cormorant, it was observed that the Indians classify it with the species of duck, their name for it, ka-ga-ge-sheeb, signifying, literally, crow-duck.
On again reaching the inlet of the Mississippi, its size and appearance corresponded so exactly to its character below the Winnipek, that it had evidently experienced but little or no change by passing through this lake. The same width and volume were observed which it had below this point; the same moderate velocity; the same borders of grassy savanna, and the same tendency to redouble its length, by its contortions, appeared. In some places, however, it approaches those extensive ridges of sandy formation, bearing pines, which traverse, or rather bound, these wide savannas. Through these channels the canoemen urged their course with their usual alacrity—now stopping a few moments to breathe, and then, striking their paddles again in the water with renewed vigor, and often starting off with one of their animated canoe-songs. From about eight o'clock in the morning till two in the afternoon we proceeded up the winding thread of this channel, when the appearance of a large body of water in the distance before us attracted attention. It was the first glimpse we had of the upper Red Cedar Lake. The Mississippi River here deploys itself in one of those large sheets of pellucid water which are so characteristic of its sources. On reaching the estuary at its entrance, a short halt was made. A large body of the most transparent water spread out before us. Its outlines, towards the south, were only bounded by the line of the horizon. In the distance appeared the traces of wooded islands. If Sandy Lake had, on emerging from the wilderness, impressed us with its rural beauty, this far transcended it in the variety and extent of outlines, and that oceanic amplitude of freshness, which so often inspires admiration in beholding the interior American lakes. It was determined to cross a part of the lake towards the north-east, in order to strike the site of an ancient Indian village at the mouth of Turtle River; and under the influences of a serene day, and one of their liveliest chants, the men pushed for that point, which was reached at three o'clock in the afternoon of the 21st July. The spot at which we landed was the verge of a green lawn, rising in a short distance to a handsome eminence, crowned with oaks and maples. One or two small log tenements stood on this slope occupied by two Canadians in the service of the American Fur Company. Several wigwams of bark and poles lifted their fragile conical forms on either side.
In one of these tenements, consisting of a small cabin of poles, sheathed with bark, we found an object of human misery which excited our sympathies. It was in the person of one of the Canadians, to whom reference has been made, of the name of Montruille. He had, in the often severe peregrinations of the fur trade in this quarter, been caught in a snow-storm during the last winter, and frozen both his feet in so severe a manner that they eventually sloughed off, and he could no longer stand upright or walk. He lay on the ground in a most pitiable state of dejection, with the stumps of his legs bound up with deer skins, with a gray, long-neglected beard, and an aspect of extreme despair. English he could not speak; and the French he uttered was but an abuse of the noble gift of language to call down denunciations on those who had deserted him, or left him thus