not separate from you without expressing my grateful
acknowledgments for the honor you have done me, by connecting my name
with your _Narrative of Travels in the Central Portions of the
Mississippi Valley, &c._" Nothing could have been more gratifying or
unexpected.

_22d_. A fog in the valley detained us till 5 o'clock A.M. After
traveling about two hours, Mr. Holliday's canoe was crushed against a
rock. While detained in repairing it, I ordered my cook to prepare
breakfast. It was now 9 o'clock, when we again proceeded, till the heat
of noon much affected the men. We pushed our canoes under some
overhanging trees, where we found fine clusters of ripe grapes.

In going forward we passed two canoes of Menomonies, going out on their
fall hunt, on the Chippewa River. These people have no hunting grounds
of their own, and are obliged to the courtesy of neighboring nations for
a subsistence. They are the most erratic of all our tribes, and may be
said to be almost nomadic. We had already passed the canoes, when Mr.
Lewis, the portrait painter, called out stoutly behind us, from an
island in the river. "Oh! ho! I did not know but there was some other
breaking of the canoe, or worse disaster, and directed the men to put
back. See, see," said he, "that fellow's nose! Did you ever see such a
protuberance?" It was one of the Menomonies from _Butte des Morts_, with
a globular irregular lump on the end of his nose, half as big as a man's
fist. Lewis's artistic risibles were at their height, and he set to work
to draw him. I could think of nothing appropriate, but Sterne and
Strasbourg.

_23d_. A heavy fog detained us at Caramani's village, till near 6 A.M.
The fog, however, still continued, so thick as to conceal objects at
twenty yards distance. We consequently went cautiously. Both this day
and yesterday we have been constantly in sight of Indian canoes, on
their return from the treaty. Wooden canoes are exclusively used by the
Winnebagoes. They are pushed along with poles.

We passed a precipitous range of hills near Pine Creek, on one of which
is a cave, called by our boatmen _L'diable au Port_. This superstition
of peopling dens and other dark places with the "arch fiend," is common.
If the "old serpent" has given any proofs to the French boatmen of his
residence here, I shall only hope that he will confine himself to this
river, and not go about troubling quiet folks in the land of the Lakes.

At Pine River we went inla