Indian sketches.
Between the fort and these falls are the "Little Falls," forty feet in
height, on a stream that empties into the Mississippi. The Indians call
them Mine-hah-hah, or "laughing waters." In sight of Fort Snelling is a
beautiful hill called Morgan's Bluff; the Indians call it "God's House."
They have a tradition that it is the residence of their god of the
waters, whom they call Unk-ta-he. Nothing can be more lovely than the
situation and appearance of this hill; it commands on every side a
magnificent view, and during the summer it is carpeted with long grass
and prairie flowers. But, to those who have lived the last few years at
Fort Snelling, this hill presents another source of interest. On its top
are buried three young children, who were models of health and beauty
until the scarlet fever found its way into regions hitherto shielded
from its approach. They lived but long enough on earth to secure them an
entrance into heaven. Life, which ought to be a blessing to all, was to
them one of untold value; for it was a short journey to a better land--a
translation from the yet unfelt cares of earth to the bright and endless
joys of heaven.

Opposite the Fort is Pilot Knob, a high peak, used as a burial-place by
the Indians; just below it is the village of Mendota, or the "Meeting of
the Waters."

But to me, the greatest objects of interest and curiosity were the
original owners of the country, whose teepees could be seen in every
direction. One could soon know all that was to be known about Pilot Knob
or St. Anthony's falls; but one is puzzled completely to comprehend the
character of an Indian man, woman, or child. At one moment, you see an
Indian chief raise himself to his full height, and say that the ground
on which he stands is his own; at the next, beg bread and pork from an
enemy. An Indian woman will scornfully refuse to wash an article that
might be needed by a white family--and the next moment, declare that she
had not washed her face in fifteen years! An Indian child of three years
old, will cling to its mother under the walls of the Fort, and then
plunge into the Mississippi, and swim half way across, in hopes of
finding an apple that has been thrown in. We may well feel much
curiosity to look into the habits, manners, and motives of a race
exhibiting such contradictions.

There is a great deal said of Indian warriors--and justly too of the
Sioux. They are, as a race, tall fine-looking men;