’And so we move on.  Past Chimney Rock we fly—­noble shaft of six hundred feet; then just before landing at Minnieska our attention is attracted by a most striking promontory rising over five hundred feet—­ the ideal mountain pyramid.  Its conic shape—­thickly-wooded surface girding its sides, and its apex like that of a cone, cause the spectator to wonder at nature’s workings.  From its dizzy heights superb views of the forests, streams, bluffs, hills and dales below and beyond for miles are brought within its focus.  What grander river scenery can be conceived, as we gaze upon this enchanting landscape, from the uppermost point of these bluffs upon the valleys below?  The primeval wildness and awful loneliness of these sublime creations of nature and nature’s God, excite feelings of unbounded admiration, and the recollection of which can never be effaced from the memory, as we view them in any direction.

’Next we have the Lion’s Head and the Lioness’s Head, carved by nature’s hand, to adorn and dominate the beauteous stream; and then anon the river widens, and a most charming and magnificent view of the valley before us suddenly bursts upon our vision; rugged hills, clad with verdant forests from summit to base, level prairie lands, holding in their lap the beautiful Wabasha, City of the Healing Waters, puissant foe of Bright’s disease, and that grandest conception of nature’s works, incomparable Lake Pepin—­these constitute a picture whereon the tourist’s eye may gaze uncounted hours, with rapture unappeased and unappeasable.

’And so we glide along; in due time encountering those majestic domes, the mighty Sugar Loaf, and the sublime Maiden’s Rock—­which latter, romantic superstition has invested with a voice; and oft-times as the birch canoe glides near, at twilight, the dusky paddler fancies he hears the soft sweet music of the long-departed Winona, darling of Indian song and story.

’Then Frontenac looms upon our vision, delightful resort of jaded summer tourists; then progressive Red Wing; and Diamond Bluff, impressive and preponderous in its lone sublimity; then Prescott and the St. Croix; and anon we see bursting upon us the domes and steeples of St. Paul, giant young chief of the North, marching with seven-league stride in the van of progress, banner-bearer of the highest and newest civilization, carving his beneficent way with the tomahawk of commercial enterprise, sounding the warwhoop of Christian culture, tearing off the reeking scalp of sloth and superstition to plant there the steam-plow and the school-house—­ever in his front stretch arid lawlessness, ignorance, crime, despair; ever in his wake bloom the jail, the gallows, and the pulpit; and ever—­’

‘Have you ever traveled with a panorama?’

‘I have formerly served in that capacity.’

My suspicion was confirmed.

‘Do you still travel with it?’

’No, she is laid up till the fall season opens.  I am helping now to work up the materials for a Tourist’s Guide which the St. Louis and St. Paul Packet Company are going to issue this summer for the benefit of travelers who go by that line.’