THE HOMES OF SOME OF OUR FRIENDS. 



397 



stream will in time grow the commercial orchards for the northwest 

 who can doubt? Returning down the bluffs by another route, we 

 come across the accompanying- view, which discloses at an eleva- 

 tion of one hundred and fifty feet (no guessing-) the city by Lake 

 Pepin and the lake itself in the distance, only one of the thousand 

 similar pictures stored away in our minds from this trip. 



I have not yet spoken of the orcharUo .il >Ir. Underwood's home, 

 from which he writes me lately they have harvested a thousand 

 bushels. Two years' cultivation has transformed a hide bound, com- 

 paratively barren orchard into one ideally thrifty and fruitful, and 

 cultivation with them is no longer looked upon as an experiment. 

 Rip up the sod, friends, and let the air blow through, then cultivate 



