The scenery now around us surpasses my power of adequate description, as do the great lakes. Superior, Michigan, Huron,—and so on down the line,—in their magnitude and importance, those little lakes in the garden, southeast of us, containing a few acres each, mirroring their shining beauties into our faces. But O, how beautifully, and magnificently fenced, or walled in, is our garden! While there is a general level, bounding the top, yet what an indescribable variety of topping out. Cones, oblongs, smooth ridges, trees, huge rocks, rough, ragged and jageed, in almost endless variety. Perpendicular ledges boldly facing us: or single rocks of varied sizes; smooth bald heads, and ridges; deep, and dark chasms; wide openings of river’s mouths; all making one of the grandest panoramas conceivable. At present this “wild scenery” is being effaced by the profuse growth of timber. Near the southern extremity, lies the beautiful flourishing city of La Crosse, with its tall church spires and electric towers, fringed with smoke from its numerous lumber mills; most appropriately and providentially named. La Crosse—saying nothing of its being the name of an ancient game modernized—as here _crosses_ the _garden_ one of the four notable rivers, whose opening and bluff outline, may be seen coming in from the “far east,” making and containing the notable and once far-famed, “La Crosse valley”; on which is located the beautiful city of Sparta. Just beyond La Crosse city, and to the left we see the outline entrance of Mormon Cooley valley, which creek bounds the lower end of our garden. Now as we trace the wall to the left,—past the La Crosse valley, and first eastern gate—we discover another small line of opening through which runs Half-way creek, notable as the home (Holman) of Norwegians. The next bold heavy prominence is “King bluff.” Still tracing on, we notice some queer looking rocks, lying on top of a ridge; then, the Twin points, the outer one the “Sugar Loaf,” a most beatiful _cone mound_ pointed with rock, and beckon to Black river valley, this side of which, is “Castle rock;” and to the left, a wide opening and a beautiful valley,—the central and main eastern gate—with branching valleys, extending east and northeast, all in front of you, down which flows the notable “Black river,” appropriately named, from the natural blackness of its waters, and because it cuts and _divides_ our _garden_ through its center, and making a beautiful belt of timbered bottoms. As it nears the Mississippi, it forms a delta, one part turning to the left, and running parallel to the Mississippi, forming that grand booming pond, and depot of lumbering at Onalaska; and then empties itself into the Mississippi at LaCrosse; thus inclosing, and forming French island, once the resort of counterfeiters.