And
Above Winona You'll Have Lovely Prairies; And Then Come The Thousand
Islands, Too Beautiful For Anything; Green?
Why you never saw foliage so
green, nor packed so thick; it's like a thousand plush cushions afloat
on
A looking-glass - when the water 's still; and then the monstrous
bluffs on both sides of the river - ragged, rugged, dark-complected - just
the frame that's wanted; you always want a strong frame, you know, to
throw up the nice points of a delicate picture and make them stand out.'
The old gentleman also told us a touching Indian legend or two - but not
very powerful ones.
After this excursion into history, he came back to the scenery, and
described it, detail by detail, from the Thousand Islands to St. Paul;
naming its names with such facility, tripping along his theme with such
nimble and confident ease, slamming in a three-ton word, here and there,
with such a complacent air of 't isn't-anything,-I-can-do-it-any-time-I-
want-to, and letting off fine surprises of lurid eloquence at such
judicious intervals, that I presently began to suspect -
But no matter what I began to suspect. Hear him -
'Ten miles above Winona we come to Fountain City, nestling sweetly at
the feet of cliffs that lift their awful fronts, Jovelike, toward the
blue depths of heaven, bathing them in virgin atmospheres that have
known no other contact save that of angels' wings.
'And next we glide through silver waters, amid lovely and stupendous
aspects of nature that attune our hearts to adoring admiration, about
twelve miles, and strike Mount Vernon, six hundred feet high, with
romantic ruins of a once first-class hotel perched far among the cloud
shadows that mottle its dizzy heights - sole remnant of once-flourishing
Mount Vernon, town of early days, now desolate and utterly deserted.
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