“Where the falls of Minnehaha
Flash and gleam among the oak trees,
Laugh and leap into the valley.”
It was here that Hiawatha came courting the lovely maiden Minnehaha. The falls are surrounded by a government park. Hurrying along through glen and dale, looking for the falls, we met a party of young ladies who were having a picnic in the park.
I accosted one of them, “Beg pardon, Mademoiselle, can you tell me where to find the falls?”
She looked astonished for a moment. “The falls of what?”
“The falls of Minnehaha.”
“O, I don’t know; never heard of her,” replied my maiden fair as she turned and tripped away.
It has always seemed so strange to me that people living near places of interest are oftentimes ignorant of the fact.
We next met a youth of some fourteen summers, who knew the history of St. Paul, Minneapolis and their environs. He could tell you all about the big mills, the soldiers, the barracks and old Fort Snelling. He knew the story of Minnehaha, too; had been to the falls hundreds of times, and knew the Song of Hiawatha as he knew his alphabet. Gitche Manitou had but to set his foot on the earth and a mighty river flowed from his tracks. Mudjekeewis was a great warrior, but Hiawatha was his hero. It was with genuine regret that we bade good-by to this interesting youth.