wams up-curling,
Like the fumes from the temples and shrines
of the Druids of old in their forests.
Ah, little he dreamed then, forsooth,
that a city would stand on that hill-side,
And bear the proud name of DuLuth,
the untiring and dauntless explorer,--
A refuge for ships from the storms,
and for men from the bee-hives of Europe,
Out-stretching her long, iron arms
o'er an empire of Saxons and Normans.

[AZ] Now called "Mud River"--it empties into the Mississippi at Aitkin.

[BA] _Gitchee See-bee_--Big River--is the Ojibway name for the
Mississippi, which is a corruption of Gitchee Seebee--as Michigan is a
corruption of _Gitchee Gumee_--Great Lake, the Ojibway name of Lake
Superior.

[BB] The Ojibways called the St. Louis River _Gitchee-Gumee
See-bee_--_Great-lake River_, i.e. the river of the Great Lake (Lake
Superior).

[BC] The route of DuLuth above described--from the mouth of the
Wild-Rice (Mud) River, to Lake Superior--was for centuries, and still
is, the Indians' canoe-route. I have walked over the old portage from
the foot of the Dalles to the St. Louis above--trod by the feet of
half-breeds and _voyageurs_ for more than two centuries, and by the
Indians for perhaps a thousand years.

The swift west-wind sang in the sails,
and on flew the boat like a sea-gull,
By the green, templed hills and the dales,
and the dark, rugged rocks of the North Shore;
For the course of the brave Frenchman lay
to his fort at the _Gah-mah-na-tek-wahk,_[83]
By the shore of the grand Thunder Bay,
where the gray rocks loom up into mountains;
Where the Stone Giant sleeps on the Cape,
and the god of the storms makes the thunder,[83]
And the _Makinak_[83] lifts his huge shape
from the breast of the blue-rolling waters.
And thence to the south-westward led his course
to the Holy Ghost Mission,[84]
Where the Black Robes, the brave shepherds,
fed their wild sheep on the isle _Wauga-ba-me_,[94]
In the enchanting _Cha-quam-e-gon_ Bay
defended by all the Apostles,[BD]
And thence, by the Ke-we-naw,
lay his course to the Mission Sainte Marie,[BE]
Now the waves clap their myriad hands,
and streams the white hair of the surges;
DuLuth at the steady helm stands,
and he hums as he bounds o'er the billows:

O sweet is the carol of bird,
And sweet is the murmu