106 LAKE PEPIN. ST. CEOIX. 



had been betrothed by her father against her wish. The wed- 

 ding-day was appointed, and the feast was being prepared. 

 She and her young companions went out to gather a berry that 

 grows among the rocks. It was a summer evening, and, busied 

 in their occupation, the rest did not observe that Winona had 

 parted from them. Suddenly from the summit of the rock a 

 low cry was heard. It was the death song of Winona, who, in 

 a moment more, with one spring from the edge of the preci- 

 pice, buried herself in the lake. 



At a place called Prescott, at the junction of the St. Croix 

 river, on the Wisconsin side, the country is remarkably pretty, 

 wooded and park like, with rounded grassy knolls 100 feet 

 high, which slope down towards the water, terminating in a 

 precipitous limestone bank. Here, in some places, the prairie 

 falls gradually to the edge of the river. The country for some 

 distance back is all bought and occupied, but none of the set- 

 tlers seem to choose a residence among the wooded glens. A 

 few hours more bring us to St. Paul's. 



