And “Blackhawk,” “Wolf,” and “Yelping Dog,”
And “Possum Tail,” and “Pollywog,”
And many hundred more.—F. G. H.
Again in the cars for a journey to St. Anthony’s Falls, and again the fertile rolling prairie met the eye on every side. The view was somewhat marred by the high board fences of the railroad, that in some places hid those broad flowery fields. Some curious mounds, round, smooth, and green, extended like a chain from east to west, and looked as if they were artificial formations, lying as they do on the bosom of the prairie; perhaps the burial-place of a departed race.
Soon the high lands on the Mississippi were seen. A portly gentleman of Galena, just returning from a convention at Springfield, pointed them out to Mrs. Lester, and said, “Ma’am, there is no such river in the world; you never saw such scenery; you would not look at the Hudson after it.”
“That would be unfortunate,” replied Mrs. Lester, “as my home is on the Hudson. Is the scenery finer than the Highlands and the Catskills?”
“Well, ma’am, I can’t exactly say as to that; I have not been below Albany.”
“Ah, then, you have not seen our beautiful river, as it cannot boast of much grandeur above Albany.”
Galena is a curious town, built on the side of a very steep hill; the houses rising one above another, and in a picturesque, romantic region. The road lay for some time along the bank of the Fever River, and Norman looked in vain for the lead mines, for which this part of the country is so famous. A very fine specimen of the lead ore was afterward given him.
“Ah! look, mother!” he exclaimed, as the descending sun that had been partially vailed, shone through a rift in the clouds, and was brightly mirrored in the placid waters of the river. Low wooded banks and islands were also mirrored there as well as the shining orb and the large dark masses of clouds. It was the great sight of the afternoon.