Sault Saint Marie, August, 1846.

It is computed that the American coast of Lake Superior extends to about twice the length of that which belongs to Canada. Our portion of the northern shore is skirted by a range of mountains which seem to be from two to three thousand feet in height; and it is said they extend in an unbroken chain from the river Saint Louis to the gulf of Saint Lawrence. Though they abound in cliffs, caverns, and waterfalls, when seen from the water, “distance lends enchantment” to these mountains, and they fade away, swell beyond swell, like the rolling billows of the ocean, while an occasional cloud will rest upon them, as if to remind the beholder of a ship, and thus complete the illusion. On the southern shore of the lake is a range called the Porcupine Mountains, which appear to be about as extensive (but not so lofty) as the Catskills; their varying outlines, seen as you sail along the coast, are very beautiful indeed. Point Keweenaw is also covered with hills, but less lofty and picturesque than those already mentioned. That portion of the coast lying between this point and the river Saint Mary, is low, and with the exception of the Pictured Rocks, uninteresting. Though our shores are not, generally speaking, what we should call rocky, yet they are distinguished for a variety of remarkable bluffs. Those alluded to above, are found on the east of Point Keweenaw, and extend along the coast some nine miles. They have been striped with various colors by mineral alluviations, and are about one hundred and fifty feet high. The most conspicuous of them is perhaps three hundred feet high, but its most superb feature was demolished by a storm in the year 1816. That feature, according to a drawing in my possession, was an arch or doorway, fifteen feet broad and one hundred high, through which the Indians were accustomed to pass with their canoes. In those days, too, from the crevices in these solid walls of whitish sandstone leaped forth beautiful cascades, and mingled their waters with those of the lake. Beautiful caverns meet the eye in every direction, and the water at their base is of a deep green, and in some places almost fathomless.

A cluster of rocks similar to the above is found westward of the Apostle Islands. These, however, are composed of a deep red sandstone, and are only about one hundred feet high, extending along the shore for about two miles. The arches here are almost numberless, and exceedingly picturesque and singular, and you may wind your way among them in a canoe without the least danger, provided you have a steady hand and sufficient nerve. And the caverns, too, in these bluffs are also very numerous, and some of them are so deep and dark that the eye cannot measure their depths,—and from these gloomy recesses, “even in a season of calm weather,” always issues a sound like thunder, which must be perfectly terrific when a storm is raging. All these bluffs are covered with a stunted growth of Alpine and other trees.

The largest island in Lake Superior belongs to the American government, and is called Isle Royal. It is forty miles long, and varies from six to ten miles in width. Its hills have an altitude of four hundred feet, it is covered with forest, and has a bold shore. During the winter it is entirely uninhabited, but for the two last summers has been thoroughly explored by the copper speculators. The northern side is bold and rocky, but the southern shore has a number of fine bays and natural harbors. The soil is barren, but distinguished for its fishing grounds. According to the Indians, it is the home of all the spirits of their mythology, or rather what we should call fairy-land.

Near the western extremity of this lake are the Apostle Islands, which are evidently detachments of a peninsula, running out in the same direction with Keweenaw, which is known as La Point. The group consists of three islands, and they stud the water most charmingly. There is a dreamy summer beauty about them, which made me almost sigh to dwell along their peaceful and solitary shores for ever. They are covered with dense forests, and ascend from the water’s edge to a conspicuous height.

On the extreme point of the largest island is situated a trading post known as La Point. When I was there, it contained about a dozen inhabited log cabins, and the wigwams of about three thousand Chippeway Indians. They were assembled there to receive their annual instalment in money and goods from the general government, as a return for the untold acres, which they had deeded to their “Great Father and Protector,” the President. The sum allotted to each was four dollars in money, and in goods one blanket and a sufficient amount of cloth to make a pair of leggins. This was all, and yet many of these poor wretches had paddled their canoes more than a thousand miles, to obtain this meager present. The great majority had reached the Point in a state of starvation, and were therefore immediately compelled to transfer their money into the open hands of the American Fur Company, for pork at fifty dollars per barrel and flour at fifteen dollars per hundred. It was understood, however, that when the red barbarians should start for their distant homes, the white barbarians would furnish them with sufficient provisions to take them out of sight. This unhappy state of things took such firm hold upon my feelings that my reflections upon the fate of the Indian tribes actually threw me into a thoughtful mood, and prevented me from enjoying my visit on the island. There is a Protestant missionary establishment at this place, but the missionaries are compelled to prosecute their labors as if with tied hands and closed lips, on account of the superior power of the Romish church. From time immemorial La Point has been the Mecca of the fur traders and the poor Indians. After exploring the immense wilderness on the west and north, enduring the severest hardships, they look forward to their visit at this place as the prominent event of the year. It is also the recruiting or starting place for all expeditions to the Mississippi river, there being only two routes,—that by the BrulÉ and Saint Croix rivers, and another by the Saint Louis.

The rivers running into Lake Superior from the south are quite numerous, but none of them are very large. They are all remarkably clear, and abound in waterfalls. They invariably enter the lake in some sandy bay, and it is a singular fact, that shortly after a severe storm many of them cannot be entered even by a canoe, owing to their being blocked with sand, which event is of course followed by an overflow, for the time, of the surrounding country. When the storm has subsided, however, they break through the sandy barriers, and rush with great velocity into the lake.