Des Moines River--Iowa--Group of Indians--Tributary streams to the Mississippi--Galena--Bishop of Illinois--My sister's grave. _Friday Evening, July 7th._ Having passed the Des Moines river, the whole country bordering on the west bank of the Mississippi, is denominated the Wisconsin Territory, or more commonly here, _the Iowa country_. It is indeed a most beautiful country. It is said that a little more than four years since, there was not a single white settler west of the Mississippi and north of Des Moines river; now, there are between thirty and forty thousand. The Iowa country will, undoubtedly, soon become a state. Its new towns are springing up rapidly. I stopped at Burlington, where there are more than twelve hundred inhabitants, and where two years since there were only a few log-cabins. How important is it that the gospel should be planted here! The Methodists are beginning to send their preachers to proclaim salvation here. Every where we find them first on the ground. Truly their promptness and zeal are to be commended.--We have not a clergyman in this whole region. Cannot one be found who is willing to go to the Iowa country? Is there not one in the classes now graduating in our seminaries, that will come over to this Macedon and help them? As the day declined, the scenery around us seemed still more pleasing. The prairies on the left bank of the Mississippi became increasingly interesting. The river stretched before us like a broad lake, indented at a hundred points by masses of luxuriant and thickly clustered trees, that seemed to float in natural and upright form upon the surface. These, with all their verdant foliage, were distinctly reflected from the mirrored bosom of the unruffled waters, so that we seemed, as we gazed upon the watery surface, to look into the very depths of the forest, and see one tree standing back of another almost interminably. While thus gliding on, by a turn of the river we came suddenly upon the corner of another large prairie, and almost the first object that met our view were two rude bark covered wigwams that had just been put up on the very margin of the stream. In front of these cabins a fire had been kindled, either to keep off the musquitoes or to cook their evening meal. At the entrance of these Indian huts lay a dog, and around him stood or sat half a dozen Indian children, some of them in a state of almost entire nudity. Still nearer the water, looking into it, and off on to the opposite shore, stood the adult members of each family. These scarcely raised their head, or deigned to cast a glance at us, as our boat with all its clattering machinery swept proudly by.--While I continued to look at them, and saw them standing amid the solitariness of the prairie, with their eyes still fixed upon the opposite bank of the river, where rested the bones of their ancestors--when I saw