Personal Memoirs of a Residence of Thirty Years with the Indian Tribes on the American Frontiers eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 1,003 pages of information about Personal Memoirs of a Residence of Thirty Years with the Indian Tribes on the American Frontiers.

Personal Memoirs of a Residence of Thirty Years with the Indian Tribes on the American Frontiers eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 1,003 pages of information about Personal Memoirs of a Residence of Thirty Years with the Indian Tribes on the American Frontiers.
height.  It was an arid eminence of the pebble and erratic block era, bearing small gray pines and shrubbery.  This constituted our first pause, or puggidenun. On descending it, we were again plunged among bramble.  Path, there was none, or trail that any mortal eye, but an Indian’s, could trace.  We ascended another eminence.  We descended it, and entered a thicket of bramble, every twig of which seemed placed there to bear some token of our wardrobe, as we passed.  To avoid this, the guide passed through a lengthened shallow pond, beyond which the walking was easier.  Hill succeeded hill.  It was a hot day in July, and the sun shone out brightly.  Although we were evidently passing an alpine height, where a long winter reigned, and the vegetation bore every indication of being imperfectly developed.  We observed the passenger pigeon, and one or two species of the falco family.  There were indications of the common deer.  Moss hung abundantly from the trees.  The gray pine predominated in the forest growth.

At length, the glittering of water appeared, at a distance below, as viewed from the summit of one of these eminences.  It was declared by our Indian guide to be Itasca Lake—­the source of the main, or South fork of the Mississippi.  I passed him, as we descended a long winding slope, and was the first man to reach its banks.  A little grassy opening served as the terminus of our trail, and proved that the Indians had been in the practice of crossing this eminence in their hunts.  As one after another of the party came, we exulted in the accomplishment of our search.  A fire was quickly kindled, and the canoes gummed, preparatory to embarkation.

We had struck within a mile of the southern extremity of the lake, and could plainly see its terminus from the place of our embarking.  The view was quite enchanting.  The waters were of the most limpid character.  The shores were overhung with hard wood foliage, mixed with species of spruce, larch, and aspen.  We judged it to be about seven miles in length, by an average of one to two broad.  A bay, near its eastern-end, gave it somewhat the shape of the letter y.  We observed a deer standing in the water.  Wild fowl appeared to be abundant.  We landed at the only island it contains—­a beautiful spot for encampment, covered with the elm, cherry, larch, maple, and birch, and giving evidence, by the remains of old camp-fires, and scattered bones of species killed in the chase, of its having been much resorted to by the aborigines.

This picturesque island the party honored me by calling after my name—­in which they have been sanctioned by Nicollet and other geographers.  I caused some trees to be felled, pitched my tent, and raised the American flag on a high staff, the Indians firing a salute as it rose.

This flag, as the evidence of the government having extended its jurisdiction to this quarter, I left flying, on quitting the island—­and presume the band of Ozawandib, at Cass Lake, afterwards appropriated it to themselves.

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Personal Memoirs of a Residence of Thirty Years with the Indian Tribes on the American Frontiers from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.