Minneapolis, the "flour city," noted for its broad streets and palatial homes nestling among the trees; its magnificent public library building with its well-filled shelves of book treasures; its expensive and beautiful public buildings and business blocks; its far-famed exposition building, and its great cluster of mammoth flouring mills that astonish the world, are the pride of every Minnesotian. Even the "Father of Waters" laughs as he leaps over the rocks and, winding in and out, drives this world of machinery that grinds up wheat--not by the car-load, but by the train-load, and--"Pillsbury's Best"--long since a national pride, has become a familiar international brand because it can be found in all the great marts of the world. What a transformation since 1638! Father Hennepin, no doubt, looks down from the battlements of Heaven in amazement at the change; and the poor Indians, who had been wont to roam about here, unhindered, have long since, in sorrow, fled away nearer to the setting sun; but alas! he returned and left the imprint of his aroused savage nature. CHAPTER III. A PATHETIC CHAPTER--CAPTAIN CHITTENDEN'S MINNEHAHA. In August, 1862, what do we see? Homes, beautiful prairie homes of yesterday, to-day have sunken out of sight, buried in their own ashes; the wife of an early love has been overtaken and compelled to submit to the unholy passion of her cruel captor; the prattling tongues of the innocents have been silenced in sudden death, and reason dethroned. A most pathetic case was that of Charles Nelson, a Swede. The day previous, his dwelling had been burned to the ground, his daughter outraged, the head of his wife, Lela, cleft by the tomahawk, and while seeking to save himself, he saw, for a moment, his two sons, Hans and Otto, rushing through the corn-field with the Indians in swift pursuit. Returning with the troops under Colonel McPhail, and passing by the ruins of his home, he gazed about him wildly, and closing the gate of the garden, asked: "When will it be safe to return?" His reason was gone! This pathetic scene witnessed by so many who yet live to remember it, was made a chapter entitled, "The Maniac," in a work from the pen of Mrs. Harriet E. McConkey, published soon after it occurred. [Illustration: Designed by A. P. Connolly. Minne-ha-ha Falls Before the White Man Ever Saw It.] Captain Chittenden, of Colonel McPhail's command, while sitting a few days after, under the Falls of Minnehaha, embodied in verse this wonderful tragedy, giving to the world the following lines: Minne-ha-ha, laughing water, Cease thy laughing now for aye, Savage hands are red with slaughter Of the innocent to-day. Ill accords thy sportive humor With their last despairing wail; While thou'rt dancing in the sunbeam, Mangled corpses strew the vale. Change thy note, gay Minne-ha-ha; Let some sadder strain prevail-- Listen, while a maniac wanderer Sighs to thee his woeful tale;