I left La Crosse in a steamer， just as the rising sun lighted the hilltops and gilded the Mississippi. It was a lovely morning， and， in company with a young girl of sixteen， who had traveled alone from some remote part of Canada， bound for a northern village in Wisconsin， I promenaded the deck most of the way to Winona， a pleased listener to the incidents of my young companion's experiences. She said that， when crossing Lake Huron， she was the only woman on board， but the men were so kind and civil that she soon forgot she was alone. I found many girls， traveling long distances， who had never been five miles from home before， with a self-reliance that was remarkable. They all spoke in the most flattering manner of the civility of our American men in looking after their baggage and advising them as to the best routes.
As you approach St. Paul， at Fort Snelling， where the Mississippi and Minnesota join forces， the country grows bold and beautiful. The town itself， then boasting about thirty thousand inhabitants， is finely situated， with substantial stone residences. It was in one of these charming homes I found a harbor of rest during my stay in the city. Mrs.
Stuart， whose hospitalities I enjoyed， was a woman of rare common sense and sound health. Her husband， Dr. Jacob H. Stuart， was one of the very first surgeons to volunteer in the late war. In the panic at Bull Run， instead of running， as everybody else did， he stayed with the wounded， and was taken prisoner while taking a bullet from the head of a rebel.
When exchanged， Beauregard gave him his sword for his devotion to the dying and wounded.
I had the pleasure of seeing several of the leading gentlemen and ladies of St. Paul at the Orphans' Fair， where we all adjourned， after my lecture， to discuss woman's rights， over a bounteous supper. Here I met William L. Banning， the originator of the Lake Superior and Mississippi Railroad.
He besieged Congress and capitalists for a dozen years to build this road， but was laughed at and put off with sneers and contempt， until， at last， Jay Cooke became so weary of his continual coming that he said： "I will build the road to get rid of you."
Whittier seems to have had a prophetic vision of the peopling of this region. When speaking of the Yankee， he says： "He's whittling by St. Mary's Falls， Upon his loaded wain； He's measuring o'er the Pictured Rocks， With eager eyes of gain.
"I hear the mattock in the mine， The ax-stroke in the dell， The clamor from the Indian lodge， The Jesuits' chapel bell！
"I hear the tread of pioneers Of nations yet to be； The first low wash of waves， where soon Shall roll a human sea." The opening of these new outlets and mines of wealth was wholly due to the forecast and perseverance of Mr. Banning. The first engine that went over a part of the road had been christened at St. Paul， with becoming ceremonies； the officiating priestess being a beautiful maiden. A cask of water from the Pacific was sent by Mr. Banning's brother from California， and a small keg was brought from Lake Superior for the occasion. A glass was placed in the hands of Miss Ella B. Banning， daughter of the president， who then christened the engine， saying： "With the waters of the Pacific Ocean in my right hand， and the waters of Lake Superior in my left， invoking the Genius of Progress to bring together， with iron band， two great commercial systems of the globe， I dedicate this engine to the use of the Lake Superior and Mississippi Railroad， and name it William L. Banning."
From St. Paul to Dubuque， as the boats had ceased running， a circuitous route and a night of discomfort were inevitable. Leaving the main road to Chicago at Clinton Junction， I had the pleasure of waiting at a small country inn until midnight for a freight train. This was indeed dreary， but， having Mrs. Child's sketches of Mmes. De Staë；l and Roland at hand， I read of Napoleon's persecutions of the one and Robespierre's of the other， until， by comparison， my condition was tolerable， and the little meagerly furnished room， with its dull fire and dim lamp， seemed a paradise compared with years of exile from one's native land or the prison cell and guillotine. How small our ordinary， petty trials seem in contrast with the mountains of sorrow that have been piled up on the great souls of the past！ Absorbed in communion with them twelve o'clock soon came， and with it the train.
A burly son of Adam escorted me to the passenger car filled with German immigrants， with tin cups， babies， bags， and bundles innumerable. The ventilators were all closed， the stoves hot， and the air was like that of the Black Hole of Calcutta. So， after depositing my cloak and bag in an empty seat， I quietly propped both doors open with a stick of wood， shut up the stoves， and opened all the ventilators with the poker. But the celestial breeze， so grateful to me， had the most unhappy effect on the slumbering exiles.
Paterfamilias swore outright； the companion of his earthly pilgrimage said， "We must be going north，" and， as the heavy veil of carbonic acid gas was lifted from infant faces， and the pure oxygen filled their lungs and roused them to new life， they set up one simultaneous shout of joy and gratitude， which their parents mistook for agony. Altogether there was a general stir.
As I had quietly slipped into my seat and laid my head down to sleep， I remained unobserved杢he innocent cause of the general purification and vexation.
We reached Freeport at three o'clock in the morning. As the dé；pot for Dubuque was nearly half a mile on the other side of the town， I said to a solitary old man who stood shivering there to receive us， "How can I get to the other station？" "Walk， madam." "But I do not know the way."
