Having decided to his entire satisfaction that the newly located lake was the true source of the Great River, Captain Glazier was ready to begin his descent of the stream, for, as yet, but a small portion of his great undertaking had been accomplished. True, he had done what had never been done before--he had penetrated into the innermost recesses of the mystery which had so long enshrouded the head-waters of the Mississippi, and traversed a part of the country where white man had never trod before; he had added greatly to the geographical knowledge of his country's mightiest river, and satisfied the spirit of investigation which had impelled him to begin this novel adventure; but the by no means least interesting, and at the same time, practical part of his voyage still lay before him. De Soto, Marquette, La Salle, Hennepin, Joliet and Schoolcraft, all had navigated but portions of the great flood of water to which they owe their renown; _he_ would descend its entire course from its source in the wilds of Minnesota to its outlet in the Gulf of Mexico. He would become familiar with the most striking features of the country on either side, and study through personal intercourse the varying phases of American character and life, as he passed from the fur-bearing, lumber-dealing States of the North, by the vast wheat fields of the West, and finally reach the cotton and sugar plantations of the South. No one had ever attempted this before, and it is probable no one will ever attempt it again, for the perils of a voyage of three thousand miles in an open canoe are not purely imaginary. And yet this was the only way in which he could satisfactorily and practically accomplish his object of making careful and minute observations along the route. Then, too, being himself so much interested in all that concerned the great "Father of Waters," he wished to awaken in others a like interest, and to effect this prepared a lecture on the "Pioneers of the Mississippi," which he intended to deliver at every town of importance on both banks as he floated down the stream. "Pay tribute to those to whom tribute is due" is his motto, and so the tragic fate of De Soto, the sad but poetic death of Marquette, and the triumphant banner of La Salle, called forth from his ready pen a lecture replete with historical interest. Standing, then, by the source of the mighty river, around which so many beautiful Indian legends cluster, and about which the white man has ever been curious, the Captain felt a natural throb of pride that so much of his great undertaking had been successfully achieved, and a hope that the future held further good in store for him.