The scenery on the upper Mississippi is reputed to be beautiful. So it
is. Yet all river scenery is generally monotonous. One gets tired of
looking at high rocky ridges quite as quickly as at more tame and
tranquil scenery. The bluffs on either side of the Mississippi, for
most of the way between Dunleith and St. Anthony's Falls, constitute
some of the most beautiful river scenery in the world. It is seldom
that they rise over two hundred feet from the water level, and their
height is quite uniform, so that from a distant point of view their
summit resembles a huge fortification. Nor, as a general thing, do
they present a bold or rocky front. The rise from the river is
gradual. Sometimes they rise to a sharp peak, towards the top of which
crops out in half circles heavy ridges of limestone. The ravines which
seem to divide them into separate elevations, are more thickly wooded,
and appear to have been grooved out by the rolling down of deep
waters. The most attractive feature of these bluffs or miniature
mountains, as they might be called is their smooth grassy surface,
thinly covered over with shade trees of various kinds. Whoever has
seen a large orchard on a hill side can imagine how the sides of these
bluffs look. At this season of the year the variegated foliage of the
trees gives them a brilliant appearance. It is quite rare to see a
bluff which rises gradually enough to admit of its being a good town
site. Hence it is that settlements on the banks of the river will
never be very numerous. Nature has here interposed against that
civilization which adorns the lower Mississippi. It appears to me that
all the available points for town sites on the river are taken up as
far as the bluffs extend; and some of these will require a great
amount of excavation before they can grow to importance.
But there are several thrifty and pleasant villages in Minnesota, on
the river, before reaching St. Paul. The first one of importance is
Brownsville, where, for some time, was a United States land office. It
is 168 miles above Dunleith. Winona, 58 miles farther up, is a larger
town. It is said to contain 5000 population. There is a land office
there also. But the town stands on land which, in very high water,
will run too much risk of inundation. Passing by several other
landings and germs of towns, we come to Wacouta, ninety-eight miles
above; which is a successful lumber depot. Six miles further on is Red
Wing, a place which delighted me on account of its cheerful location.
It is growing quite fast, and is the seat of a large Methodist
seminary. But the town of Hastings, thirty-two miles above, eclipses
everything but St. Paul. It is finely located on rising ground, and
the river is there narrow and deep. The boat stopped here an hour, and
I had a good opportunity to look about the place. The town appears to
have considerable trade with the back country. Its streets are laid
out with regularity; its stores and buildings are spacious, durable,
and neat. I heard that over $2000 were asked for several of the
building lots. A little way into the interior of the town I saw men at
work on a stone church; and approaching the spot, I determined to make
some inquiries of a boy who was briskly planing boards. First, I asked
how much the church was going to cost? About $3000, he replied.
"Are there any other churches in the place?"
"Yes, up there, where they are building."
"What denomination is that?"
"I don't know," he responded. "I only came into the place yesterday."
I thought he was doing well to begin to build churches so soon after
his arrival. And from his countenance, I have no doubt he will do
well, and become a useful citizen of the state. Hastings has its
democratic press the Dakota Journal, edited by J. C. Dow, a talented
young man from New Hampshire. The population of the town is about two
thousand. It is thirty-two miles below St. Paul, on the west side of
the river. There is nothing of especial interest between the two
places.
The great panorama which time paints is but a species of dissolving
views. It is but as yesterday since the present sites of towns and
cities on the shores just referred to showed only the rude huts of
Indian tribes. To-day, the only vestige left there of the Indian are
his burying-grounds. Hereafter the rudeness of pioneer life shall be
exchanged for a more genial civilization, and the present, then the
past, will be looked back to as trivial by men still yearning for the
future.
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