Western Reserve chronicle. [volume] (Warren, Ohio) 1855-1921, 1868-12-30
Letter from Minnesota.

| Letter from Minnesota.
RED WING, MINI, Nov, 1865.
EDITOR CHRONICLE: II am thor
oughly persuaded that my name
might consistently be placed in the
catalogue of travellers. Here am al
! mosta thousand miles away from that
spot of earth with which my infancy
was familiar, - have sailed on the
father of waters, or as Smith saws,
parent of Adams ale, ,"-have seen a
deer, prairie chicken and live Indians
and to-day am sitting within a few
rods Of a point where, but one month
. ago, an enormous bear departed for
ursine glory. Triumphantly | ask
what more is necessary? Taking for
granted no one will dispute my claims
as a traveller, might | not as such,
visit scenes, the novelty of which
would render description, even i'm my
rough way, not entirely without in
terest.
Did you ever float along the northern
Mississippi? If so, YOU did not fail
to observe the long lines of bluffs,
from three to five hundred feet in
height, standing out boldly upon
either side, or slOping up from the
waters edge as smooth as an inclined
prairie. At almost regular intervals
deep gullies, denoting the spot where
some streamlet has lost its way into
the Mississippi, divide the line into
lpyramidal masses, which, to my un-
sophisticated mind, strongly resemble
the antiquated masonry of the Nile.
Occasionally these gulches are wide,
leaving a level spot in which nestles
an adventurous village, and OCCASION
ally upon the steep mountain side
commercial necessity has placed
human habitation. To completely
appreciate the magnificence of Missis-
sippi scenery three thousand miles
above the Gulf of Mexico, one must
sit upon the upper deck in tranquil
day, with no other companion than
Imagination. The Rhine has no such
I grand castles, or lofty turrets, the
Gaudalquivar no such garden of flow
ers or vernal beauty. Ii is hard to be-
lieve that the huge walls of stratifOrm
rocks are not the works of art, or the
slOping gardens are not fashioned by
| human hands. After leavingA Aa
Crosse until you reach the limit of
steamboat navigation, nothing is seen
| but this ever varying, yet consistent
scenery. My first stopping place is
Red Wing, a village named after cell
ebrated Indian chief, containing per-
haps two thousand inhabitants, and
neatly situated on the Minnesota side
have visited to-day the historical
Maiden Rock, a few miles below Red
Wing, near which is located a village
bearing the same name. A wonderful
legend has been preserved, and is still
eXtant among the "nOble red men,
and communicated thence to the
white settlers in the vicinity, from
which the place derives its name. a
great many moons ago q stately chief
of the Winnebago tribe felt the gentle |
pangs inflicted by the arrows of the !
dusky Indian Cupid-and that only a |
certain beauty of the Winona tribe |
could bring him balm, or share his |
heart, his VenisOn and his wigwam. !
The maidenis father-Old WinOna-l
strongly favored her union with the |
Winnebago chieftain; "for," said he, |
(all Indians you know are philOsO- |
piers twill not this alliance make |
peace between the two nations-and /
shall not receive seven horses and n |
keg of fire-water to reeOmpense me /
for the loss of my daughter. And /
though the music of her voice shall be /
lost TO the ear of old WinOna, shall he |
not be cOmfOrted by two pounds of /
tobacco fresh from the WinnebagO ?" I
These and like arguments clinched his /
purpose, and when the maiden refused, /
he sternly fixed the day. and ordered +
six fat dogs and bear to be in readi- /
ness for the marriage feast. But Miss
WinOna couldn't see it," At night,
when the old chief slept, she crept
from her lodge, and with a white
lover who had strayed among her
tribe, and upon whom she had Law
ished her affections, started for the
big woods" to escape the hated Win
nebagO. Morning came, and old
WinOna raved at the "French custom
pursued by his daughter" and swore
in the most appropriate and eloquent
"Injin" that somebody's hair should
be raised" All the warriors of the
village, headed by the old chief-tOm-
ahawk in hand, were soon upon the
trail of the flying fugitives. On n
perpendicular bluff, overlooking the
river, in the beautiful morning, stood
the undaunted maiden and her favored
white lover. As the chieftain saw
them his eye flashed fire, and for n
moment his tomahawk twinkled in
the sunlight, and then descended,
cleaving the skull of the unfortunate
white man. Quick as lightning the
maiden bounded toward the precipice,
and with one wild shrek -sprang
over, and three hundred and fifty feet
below, the tIlrbid water of the Missis-
sippi closed over her forever. The
legend goes on to tell how old Winona
very properly lbut not at all like an
Indian) died of grief; and how at sun
rise ever thereafter, the restless spirit
of the maiden could be heard singing
wierdsOngs and at such times, should
one venture TO gnZe into the depths
below, invisible hands would draw
him down, down into destruction.
From that time since the place has
been known as Maiden Rock or
Lovers Leap"
II cannot tell how the truth may be,
say the tale as twas told to me"
The farming land around Red Wing
is especially adapted to wheat raising,
and this is the main source of revenue
to the farmer. Thousands of bushels
are shipped daily from this one port,
and when multiplied by the many
equally good shipping points along
the river, some idea can be CLEANED of
the magnitude of this product. Ivis-
ited several farms in the vicinity and
was surprised to SEQ how large a share
each contributed to the grand aggre-
gate ready to supply Eastern demand.
One old farmer took me to his graneTy,
and as we entered he sOrrowfully re-
that had il not been for the
"dry spell' he should have had at
least five thousand bushels, but rs it
was, he had barely thi'ty-Hine hundred.
pitied the poor man because of shis
failure. In those heaps of
golden grain one cannot help behold
ing the glorious resources Of our cOun-
try. Grim Want lies buried In every
pile; and In every barge which floats
upon the Mississippi bosom, rosy
Plenty makes merry mt the gaunt
skeletons of starvation, and with her
own glowing hands, shackles down
human misery.
/ am going further north in few
days, and should be pleased to give
you further of my observations.
d. w. w.
There Is a good story of French
man who was great prlctical-jOkCF
all his life and even played a trick ,
q flor ba had Lost the pou.pr of puiOV-