not attempt to say so, as it might have come under the heading of
"d---- chat," worthy only of being replied to by that convincing argument,
the shovel.

A good night's sleep and a swim in the St. Louis river banished all trace
of toil. I left Fond-du-Lac early in the afternoon, and, descending by a
small steamer the many-winding St. Louis River, soon came in sight of the
town of Duluth. The heat had become excessive; the Bay of St. Louis, shut
in on all sides by lofty hills, lay under a mingled mass of thunder-cloud
and sunshine; far out in Lake Superior vivid lightnings flashed over the
gloomy water and long rolls of thunder shook the hills around. On board
our little steamboat the atmosphere was stifling, and could not have been
short of 100 degrees in the coolest place (it was 93 at six o'clock same
evening in the hotel at Duluth); there was nothing for it but to lie
quietly on a wooden bench and listen to the loud talking of some
fellow-passengers. Three of the hardest of hard cases were engaged in the
mental recreation of "'swapping lies;" their respective exchanges
consisting on this occasion of feats of stealing; the experiences of one
I recollect in particular. He had stolen an axe from a man on the North
Pacific Railroad and a few days later sold him the same article. This
Piece of knavery was received as the acme of cuteness; and I well
recollect the language in which the brute wound up his self-laudations:
"If any chap can steal faster than me, let him."

As we emerged from the last bend of the river and stood across the Bay of
St. Louis, Duluth, in all its barrenness, stood before us. The future
capital of the Lakes, the great central port of the continent, the town
whose wharves were to be laden with the teas of China and the silks of
Japan stood out on the rocky north shore of Lake Superior, the sorriest
spectacle of city that eye of man could look upon-wooden houses scattered