All the lightness of the birch-tree,
All the toughness of the cedar,
All the larch’s supple sinews;
And it floated on the river
Like a yellow leaf in autumn,
Like a yellow water-lily.”
“I am very glad that I have seen a birch canoe; but I would like to see some Indians in it; not an Indian have I seen on the banks of this river. Now we are going to take in wood. I wish I could go on shore.”
It did, indeed, look most inviting, that piece of woodland, with its high umbrageous roof, and deep dark recesses; and many of the gentlemen went on shore to gather flowers and cut sticks for canes; one of these was handed to Norman as a remembrance of the woods of Minnesota.
The bank was bordered with two long wood-piles; and one of the officers of the boat measured the height and length of a section; and, at a word, twelve stout Irishmen sprung on shore, and seizing each his half dozen sticks, trotted on board. Rapid as were their movements, it was a long time before the great wood-pile was transferred to the deck of the steamer, but it was pleasant to enjoy the fragrance of the forest and the sweet songs of its birds.
About mid-day they entered Lake Pepin, an expansion of the river twenty-four miles long, and from two to four miles wide. It is a beautiful sheet of water, with high rocky bluffs on the eastern, and rounded wooded hills on the western bank, while it is bordered with a broad beach of white gravel. A fresh breeze crossed its waters, almost rising into a stiff gale. Sudden gales of wind are not uncommon on this lake, often obliging steamers to lay to until their violence is over.