in sight of St. Paul's roofs and spires, and soon were enjoying the
thoughtful care and generous hospitality of the Minnesota Boat Club.
Another day's close brought us to Red Wing, backgrounded by the green
bluffs and reddened cliffs of its bold hills. One more pull down the
now broad and islanded stream carried us to Lake Pepin, one of the
loveliest mirrors that reflects the sun, and to Frontenac's white
beach. The keels of the Fritz, the Betsy and the Hattie crunched the
sands at the end of their long journey, the boats were shunted back
upon the railway, and their weary owners were soon dozing in restful
forgetfulness upon the couches of the unsurpassed Chicago, Milwaukee
and St. Paul line.

[Illustration: END OF VOYAGE (FRONTENAC, LAKE PEPIN).]

Beyond reasonable doubt, our party is the only one that ever pushed its
way by boat up the entire course of the farther-most Mississippi.
Beyond any question, our canoes were the first wooden boats that ever
traversed those waters. Schoolcraft, in 1832, came all the way down the
upper river without portages, but he had very high water and many
helpers, in spite of which one of his birch canoes was wrecked. The
correspondent of a New York newspaper claimed the complete trip in his
canoe some five years ago, but his own guide and others told us that
his Dolly Varden never was above Brainerd, and that his portages above
were frequent. So we may well feel an honest pride in our Rushton-built
Rob Roys and our hard knocks, and may remember with pardonable
gratification that upon our own feet and keels we have penetrated the
solitudes lying around the source of the world's most remarkable river,
where no men live and where, probably, not more than two-score white
men have ever been.--A.H. SIEGFRIED.