We were now at the foot of the Wisconsin Valley—at the point, in fact, where Marquette and Joliet, coming from the forests and lakes of New France, had discovered the great River of the West, in 1673. Marquette, led by his rubrics, named it the River "Conception," but, in his journal, he freely employs the aboriginal term of Mississippi, which was in use by the whole body of the Algonquin tribes. While awaiting, at Prairie du Chein, the preparations for ascending the Wisconsin, the locality was found a very remarkable one for its large unios, and some other species of fresh-water shells. Some specimens of the unio crassus, found on the shores of the island in the Mississippi, opposite the village, were of thrice the size of any noticed in America or Europe, and put conchologists in doubt whether the species should not be named giganteus.[ [119] I had, in coming down the Mississippi, procured some fine and large specimens of the unio purpureus of Mr. Say, at the Painted Rock, with some other species; and the discovery of such large species of the crassus served to direct new attention to the subject.

Our sympathies were excited, at this place, by observing an object of human deformity in the person of an Indian, who, to remedy the want of the power of locomotion, had adjusted his legs in a large wooden bowl. By rocking this on the ground, he supplied, in a manner, the lost locomotive power. This man of the bowl possessed his faculties of mind unimpaired, spoke several Indian languages, besides the Canadian French, and appeared cheerful and intelligent. An excursion into the adjacent country, to view some caves, and a reported mineral locality made by Mr. Trowbridge, during my descent to the mines of Dubuque, brought me some concretions of carbonate of lime, but the Indian guides either faltered to make the promised discoveries, through their superstitions, or really failed in the effort to find the object. By tracing the shores of the Mississippi, I found the rolled and hard agates and other quartz species, which characterize the pebble-drift of its sources, still present in the down-flowing shore-drift.

The aboriginal name of this place is Kipesági, an Algonquin word, which is applied to the mouth or outflow of the Wisconsin River. It appears to be based on the verb kipa, to be thick or turbid, and sauge, outflow—the river at its floods, being but little else than a moving mass of sand and water.

It was the 9th (Aug.) at half-past ten in the morning before the expedition left the Prairie to ascend the Wisconsin, the mouth of which we reached after descending the Mississippi three miles. This is an impressive scene—the bold cliffs of the west bank of the Mississippi, with Pike's-hill rising in front on the west, while those of the Wisconsin Valley stand at but little less elevation on the north and south. At this season of the year the water is clear and placid, and mingles itself in its mighty recipient without disturbance. But it is easy to conceive, what the Indians affirm, that in its floods it is a strong and turbid mass of moving waters, against which nothing can stand. This character of the stream is believed, indeed, to be the origin of the Indian name of Wisconsin. Miskawägumi, means a strong or mixed water, or liquid. By adding to this word totoshabo (milk), the meaning is coagulated or turning milk; it is often used to mean brandy, which is then called strong water; by adding iscodawabo, the meaning is fire-water. Marquette, in 1673, spells the name of the river indifferently Meshkousing, and Mishkousing. Of this term, the inflection ing, is simply a local form, the letter s being thrown in for euphony. This word appears to be a derivation from the term mushkowa, strong water. By admitting the transmutation of m to w, the initial syllable mis is changed to wis, and the interpretation is then river (or place) of strong waters. The term of kipesagi, applied to its mouth, is but another characteristic feature of it—the one laying stress on its turbidity in flood, and the other on its strength of current. These are certainly the two leading traits of the Wisconsin, which rushes with a great average velocity over an inclined plane, without falls, for a great distance. It originates in a remarkable summit of sandy plains, which send out to the west the Chippewa River of Lake Pepin, to the north the Montreal and Ontonagon of Lake Superior, and to the east the Menomonee of Green Bay, while the Wisconsin becomes its southern off-drain, till it finally turns west at the Portage, and flows into the Mississippi.

We ascended, the first day, eighteen miles; the next, thirty-six; the third day, thirty-four miles; the fourth, forty; the fifth, thirty-eight, and the sixth, sixteen, which brought us to the Fox and Wisconsin Portage, a spot renowned from the earliest French days of western discovery. For here, on the waters separating the Mississippi from the great lakes, there had, at successive intervals, been pitched the tents of Marquette, La Hontan, Carver, and other explorers, who have, in their published journals, left traces of their footsteps. La Salle, who excelled them all in energy of character, proceeded to the Mississippi from Lake Michigan, down the Illinois.

Our estimates made the distance from the Mississippi to this point one hundred and eighty-two miles. It is a wide, and (at this season) shallow stream, with transparent waters, running over a bed of yellow sand, checkered with numerous small islands, and long spits of sand-bars. There is not a fall in this distance, and it must be navigable with large craft during the periodical freshets. It receives the Blue, Pine, and other tributaries in this distance. Its valley presents a geological section, on a large scale, of the series of lead-bearing rocks extending in regular succession from the fundamental sandstone to the topmost limestones. The water being shallow and warm, we often waded from bar to bar, and found the scene a fruitful one for its fresh-water conchology. The Indians frequently amused me by accounts of the lead mines and mineral productions of its borders; but I followed them in this search only to be convinced that they were without sincerity in these representations, and had no higher objects on this head, than, by assuming a conciliatory manner, to secure temporary advantages while the expedition was passing through their country. The valley belongs to the Winnebagoes, whom we frequently met, and received a friendly reception from. We also encountered Menomonies, who occupy the lower part of the adjacent Fox River Valley, but rove widely west and north over the countries of the tribes they are at peace with.

The Wisconsin Valley was formerly inhabited by the Sacs and Foxes, who raised large quantities of corn and beans on its fertile shores. They were driven by the French, in alliance with the Chippewas and Menomonies. It is now possessed exclusively by the Winnebagoes, a savage and bloodthirsty tribe, who came, according to tradition, many years ago from the south, and are thought to be related to some of the Mexican tribes. Their language is cognate with the great Sioux or Dakota stock west of the Mississippi, who likewise date their origin south. To those accustomed to hear the softer tones of the Chippewa and Algonquin, it sounds harsh and guttural. Their name for themselves is Hochungara; the French call them Puants.

In passing up this valley, an almost never-failing object of interest was furnished by the univalve shells found along its banks, and by the variety in size, shape, and color which they exhibited. Of these, the late Mr. Barnes has described, from my duplicates, the U. plicatus, U. verrucosus, U. ventricosus, U. planus, U. obliqua, and U. gracilis.[ [120] We frequently observed the scolipax minor, the plover, the A. alcyon, a small yellow bird, and C. vociferus, along its sandy shores; and, in other positions, the brant, the grouse, the A. sponsa, and the summer duck, and F. melodia. A range of hills extends from the Mississippi, on each shore, to within twenty miles of the Portage, where it ceases, on the south side, but continues on the north—receding, however, a considerable distance. This section is called the Highlands of the Wisconsin. The stratification is exclusively sandstone and limestone, in the usual order of the metalliferous series of the West, and lying in horizontal positions.

There are two kinds of rattlesnake in the Valley of the Wisconsin. The larger, or barred crotalis, is confined to the hills, and attains a large size. I killed one of this species at the mouth of a small cave on the summit of a cliff to which I ascended, which measured four feet in length, and had nine rattles. Its great thickness attracted notice. Attaching a twig to its neck, I drew it down into the valley as a present to our Indians, knowing that they regard the reptile in a peculiar manner. They found it a female, having eleven young, who had taken shelter in their maternal abdominal-covering. The Ottowas carefully took off the skin, and brought it with them. The second kind of this reptile is called prairie rattlesnake, is confined to the plains, and does not exceed fifteen or twenty inches in length.

The Indians had reported localities of lead, copper, and silver at various places, but always failed, as we ascended, to reveal anything of more value than detached pieces of sulphuret of iron, or brown iron-stone. When we reached the portage, a Winnebago, who had been the chief person in making these reports, came with great ceremony to present a specimen of his reported silver. On taking off the envelop it turned out to be a small mass of light-colored glistening folia of mica. We had found the horizontal rocks along the stream thus far, but the primitive shows itself, within a mile north of the portage, in orbicular masses in situ, coming through the prairies.