The steamer approaching whistles, then strikes a bell about six times funereally, with a pause after the third bell; and then you see the whole village making haste to the landing,—commonly the raw, stony, or sandy shore,—the postmaster with his mailbag, the passenger, and almost every dog and pig in the town. That is commonly one narrow street and back-yards, at an angle of about forty-five degrees with the horizon. If there is more flat space between the water and the bluff, it is almost sure to be occupied by a flourishing and larger town.
We deserted the outside of the steamboat at a few miles above Red Wing, where there was a remarkable bluff (Red Wing Bluff) standing apart before the town, as we approached it. We reached St. Paul at two or three o clock in the morning. The bluffs are here very much lower, and even below Red Wing they had been far more interrupted by hollows. We wooded up again before reaching Lake Pepin, taking the wood-boat along with us, now on this side, then on that. Notice the white maples, etc., and see more white birch on the bluffs.
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