The foreign tourist has never heard of these; there is no note of them in his books.  They have sprung up in the night, while he slept.  So new is this region, that I, who am comparatively young, am yet older than it is.  When I was born, St. Paul had a population of three persons, Minneapolis had just a third as many.  The then population of Minneapolis died two years ago; and when he died he had seen himself undergo an increase, in forty years, of fifty-nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine persons.  He had a frog’s fertility.

I must explain that the figures set down above, as the population of St. Paul and Minneapolis, are several months old.  These towns are far larger now.  In fact, I have just seen a newspaper estimate which gives the former seventy-one thousand, and the latter seventy-eight thousand.  This book will not reach the public for six or seven months yet; none of the figures will be worth much then.

We had a glimpse of Davenport, which is another beautiful city, crowning a hill—­a phrase which applies to all these towns; for they are all comely, all well built, clean, orderly, pleasant to the eye, and cheering to the spirit; and they are all situated upon hills.  Therefore we will give that phrase a rest.  The Indians have a tradition that Marquette and Joliet camped where Davenport now stands, in 1673.  The next white man who camped there, did it about a hundred and seventy years later—­in 1834.  Davenport has gathered its thirty thousand people within the past thirty years.  She sends more children to her schools now, than her whole population numbered twenty-three years ago.  She has the usual Upper River quota of factories, newspapers, and institutions of learning; she has telephones, local telegraphs, an electric alarm, and an admirable paid fire department, consisting of six hook and ladder companies, four steam fire engines, and thirty churches.  Davenport is the official residence of two bishops—­Episcopal and Catholic.

Opposite Davenport is the flourishing town of Rock Island, which lies at the foot of the Upper Rapids.  A great railroad bridge connects the two towns—­one of the thirteen which fret the Mississippi and the pilots, between St. Louis and St. Paul.

The charming island of Rock Island, three miles long and half a mile wide, belongs to the United States, and the Government has turned it into a wonderful park, enhancing its natural attractions by art, and threading its fine forests with many miles of drives.  Near the center of the island one catches glimpses, through the trees, of ten vast stone four-story buildings, each of which covers an acre of ground.  These are the Government workshops; for the Rock Island establishment is a national armory and arsenal.

We move up the river—­always through enchanting scenery, there being no other kind on the Upper Mississippi—­and pass Moline, a center of vast manufacturing industries; and Clinton and Lyons, great lumber centers; and presently reach Dubuque, which is situated in a rich mineral region.  The lead mines are very productive, and of wide extent.  Dubuque has a great number of manufacturing establishments; among them a plow factory which has for customers all Christendom in general.  At least so I was told by an agent of the concern who was on the boat.  He said—­