scalps, is precisely what these tribes are doing at the present time. In the three hundred years' interval, they have made no mental progress. The Chippewa is just as fierce to-day, in hunting a Dacota scalp, as the Dacota is in hunting a Chippewa scalp. The conquering tribe has, however, pushed the Dacotas nearly one thousand miles down the Mississippi. "Talk of your Hannibals, Napoleons, and Alps, My glory," quoth the feathered hunter, "is in scalps." After following the deeply indented path nine hundred and fifty yards, we reached a small lake which disclosed, as we passed it, patches of a dark, coarse, mossy-like substance at its bottom. On reaching down with their paddles, the men brought up a singular species of aquatic plant with coral-shaped branches. After crossing this lake, the pine plain resumed its former character. There was then a shallow bog of fifty or sixty yards. The rest of the path consists of an arid sand plain, which is sometimes brushy, but generally presents dry, easy travelling. We had walked four thousand one hundred yards, or about two and a half miles, when we reached an elongated body of clear living water, having its outflow into Leech Lake. Embarking on this, we crossed it, and entered a narrow stream, winding about in a shaking savanna, where it was found difficult to veer the large five-fathom canoes in which we now travelled. This tortuous stream was joined by a tributary from the right, and at no remote distance, entered an elongated duplicate body of water, named by the Indians _Kapuka Sagatawag_, or the Abrupt Discharges.[175] Below the junction of these lakes, which appear to be outbursts from the Hauteur de Terre range, the stream is a wide-flowing river. Its shores abound in sedge, reeds, and wild rice. The last glimpses of daylight left us as this broad river entered into Leech Lake. Moonlight still served us, as we began the traverse of this spreading sea, but it soon became overcast, and it was intensely dark before we reached the recurved point of land of the principal chief's village. It was now ten o'clock at night, and it was eleven before the military canoes, under Lieutenant Allen, came up. In the morning a salute was fired by the Indians, who welcomed us. Aishkebuggekozh,[176] or the Flat-mouth, the reigning chief, invited me to breakfast. As this chief exercises a kind of imperial sway over the adjacent country, it was important to respect him. Having sent a dish of hard bread before me, I took my interpreter and went to his residence. I found him living in a tenement built of logs, with two rooms, well floored and roofed, with two small glass windows. At one end of the breakfast-room were extended his flags, medals, and warlike paraphernalia. In the centre of the floor, a large mat of rushes, or Indian-woven _apukwa_ was spread, and upon this the breakfast and breakfast things were arranged in an orderly manner. There were teacups, teaspoons, plates, knives and forks,