Safely led and guided by pilots who could tell The pulses of the river, its windings, and its swell; Who knew its closest secrets, by dark as well as light, Each bluff and ringing forest, each swamp or looming height. MACKAY. Early in the morning Winona appeared, surrounded by its protecting hills, reposing, as do most of those pretty towns, in the shadow of the great bluffs, “like peace in the bosom of strength.” The boat stopped for some time at La Crosse, a very nourishing town. Here Mrs. Lester saw two Indians in blankets and leggings, a sight Norman missed, to his great disappointment. He was at the other end of the boat, too far off to be summoned in time. The pilot, having just left his watch of six hours, came and invited them to come up to the pilot-house in the afternoon. It was a welcome invitation, for the day was very warm, and the pilot-house, with its cool breeze, and its commanding view of the scenery, was a most desirable place. Norman admired the handsome pilot as, with steadfast eye and erect figure, he stood at the wheel, scanning the waters, and guiding the vessel in the channel, winding round the islands, and from one shore to the other of the great river. Turning the wheel, first to the right, and then to the left, it seems very easy work, a very simple operation; and yet what destinies depend upon those movements; fortune, happiness, life, all involved! Hundreds of human beings pass days of enjoyment and nights of quiet rest because they have faith in their pilot. And there are men who, as they guide the pen, or utter calm, truthful words, or pray in the deep of their hearts, seem to be doing very little, and yet those pen traces, those simple words, those earnest prayers, may guide hundreds in the perilous voyage of life, may direct their course away from the shoals and snags that threaten destruction, and float them safely to their desired haven. Norman was greatly mortified at the disabled state of the Grey Eagle, one wing broken, how could she maintain her triumphant flight? Others accustomed to yield the palm, now passed her with ease. “I hope they know that her paddle-wheel is broken,” said Norman; “just look at those boats; what efforts they are making to pass us!” Norman watched the boats with great interest, as they put on more steam, and darted past the Grey Eagle, making the landings before her, and carrying off the waiting passengers. The view, crossing the river from Prairie du Chien, overlooking the islands as they now could from their elevated position, was extremely fine. The Northern Light and the Grey Eagle met at M’Gregor’s Landing, and the captain of the latter was telling the captain of the former about his broken paddle-wheel and his consequently tardy progress.