104 

Pulpit Rock, Head of Dells. 
was something well worth going five 
miles to obtain, even leaving out the 
scenery, so we had been told. 
Imagine a perfect summer after- 
noon, a hazy, lazy, dreamy summer 
day, and you are entering the Jaws of 
the Dells. The jaws are immense rocks, 
high, massive and forbidding, standing 
in such close proximity that the pas- 
sage between seems hardly wide enough 
for our little boat, and causes us to 
wonder if the steamers, though of small 
proportions, can ever squeeze through 
at all, Once safely through these 
mighty jaws the real wonders of the 
Dells lie before us. On each side of 
this narrow, winding river, there is so 
much to see we are perplexed, not 
knowing which way to look, fearing to 
miss any, part. ‘‘To have seen it, to 
have hung it up in the hall of imagina- 
tive memory, is to have become richer 
forevermore.’’ How can one give any 
idea of what the Dells are really like to 
those who have never beheld them ? 
To say that they consist of high, preci- 
pitous rocks and ledges on either side 
of the river, of fantastic shape and out- 
line, sounds as if they were not so very 
wonderful after all, and, indeed, not 
half so beautiful as many other scenic 
' 
The American Angler 
points we hear spoken of daily. But, 
let us portray a picture by word-paint- 
ing as nearly true as we are able, and 
see if it is not pleasing. One may not 
make mention of all the points of in- 
terest along the way, but of some we 
must speak. 
A short distance up the river, at our 
left, is Romance Cliff, fulfilling in pic- 
turesqueness all that the name implies. 
It defies description, for who has the 
eloquence to describe that potent word ? 
The embodiment of the idea is ex- 
pressed in the magnificent rock; it si- 
lently gives utterance to all that words 
cannot express. Just a little beyond, 
on the other side of the river, our guide 
suddenly steered the boat into a cave- 
like opening, and there was a spring of 
water, which came trickling out from 
the bed of rock, so white and clear 
and tempting that we all drank of it 
and decided to name it ‘‘ Satisfaction 
Spring,” for, strange to say, though so 
worthy, ithad been nameless, and we 
unanimously agreed upon the name 
selected as the most fitting. 
Looking across the river we see an 
opening among the rocks, and a little 
way up from the river’s bank is a 
curious looking old house, having just 
the look and air about it that leads us 
unconsciously to ask our guide its his- 
tory. We felt sure it was no ordinary 
house, where somebody had lived and 
died who had no particular history, and 
our inference was correct. We learned 
it was the old Pioneer Hotel. Long be- 
fore the day of railroading, it had been 
the military post station between Green 
Bay and Prairie du Chien, having been 
built in 1844. 
Again, our guide steers our small 
craft towards another opening among 
the rocks, and we find ourselves in 
Boat Cave. We are completely shut in 
