“I am very glad that I have seen a birch canoe; but I would like to see some Indians in it; not an Indian have I seen on the banks of this river. Now we are going to take in wood. I wish I could go on shore.” It did, indeed, look most inviting, that piece of woodland, with its high umbrageous roof, and deep dark recesses; and many of the gentlemen went on shore to gather flowers and cut sticks for canes; one of these was handed to Norman as a remembrance of the woods of Minnesota. The bank was bordered with two long wood-piles; and one of the officers of the boat measured the height and length of a section; and, at a word, twelve stout Irishmen sprung on shore, and seizing each his half dozen sticks, trotted on board. Rapid as were their movements, it was a long time before the great wood-pile was transferred to the deck of the steamer, but it was pleasant to enjoy the fragrance of the forest and the sweet songs of its birds. About mid-day they entered Lake Pepin, an expansion of the river twenty-four miles long, and from two to four miles wide. It is a beautiful sheet of water, with high rocky bluffs on the eastern, and rounded wooded hills on the western bank, while it is bordered with a broad beach of white gravel. A fresh breeze crossed its waters, almost rising into a stiff gale. Sudden gales of wind are not uncommon on this lake, often obliging steamers to lay to until their violence is over. On the western shore is the celebrated Maiden’s Rock, a bold, precipitous bluff, rising four hundred feet above the lake. All eyes were turned toward its towering height. Its story is one of great beauty. A maiden of the Sioux had given her heart to a chief of her own tribe, who had sought her love. The parents, however, would not consent to her alliance with the young brave, but insisted on her marrying an old chief, of great wisdom and influence in the nation. The marriage-day was fixed, and Oola-Ita, with other Indian maidens, was gathering berries on the brow of this cliff for the wedding-feast. Suddenly a plaintive song rose on the sea, and they saw the beautiful Oola-Ita poised gracefully on the very edge of the precipice, her head upraised, and her long hair floating in the wind, as she warbled her parting song. In a moment, before a friendly hand could arrest her, she leaped from the precipice, and was dashed to pieces on the rocks below. [Illustration: No. 666. MAIDEN’S ROCK.] Six miles above Lake Pepin is the town of Red Wing, finely situated on the river bank, beneath the shadow of a towering bluff. There was formerly the village of Talangamane, or the Red Wing, esteemed the first chief of his nation. The university which bears Bishop Hamline’s name, and which has been founded by his liberal gift, may be seen from the water, and near it is a large Methodist church.