The dinner was smoking hot on the table when we drove up to the hotel at Swan River; and so charming a drive in the pure air had given me a keen appetite.  The dinner (and I speak of these matters because they are quite important to travellers) was in all respects worthy of the appetite.  The great staple article of Minnesota soil appears to be potatoes, for they were never known to be better anywhere else—­ Eastport not excepted—­ and at our table d’hote they were a grand collateral to the beef and pork.  The dessert consisted of nice home made apple pies served with generosity, and we had tea or milk or water, as requested, for a beverage.  After partaking of a dinner of this kind, the rest of the day’s journey was looked forward to with no unpleasant emotions.  The stage happened to be lightly loaded, and we rolled along with steady pace, and amidst jovial talk, till we reached the thriving, but to me not attractive, town of Watab.  Three houses had been put up within the short time since I had stopped there.  We got into Mr. Gilman’s tavern at sundown.  I was rejoiced to find a horse and carriage waiting for me, which had been kindly sent by a friend to bring me to St. Cloud.  It is seven miles from Watab to this town.  It was a charming moonlight evening, and I immediately started on with the faithful youth who had charge of the carriage, to enjoy my supper and lodging under the roof of my hospitable friend at St. Cloud.

LETTER XIV.

 St. Cloud.—­ The Pacific trail.

Agreeable visit at St. Cloud—­ Description of the place—­ Causes of the rapid growth of towns—­ Gen. Lowry—­ The back country—­ Gov.  Stevens’s report—­ Mr. Lambert’s views—­ Interesting account of Mr. A. W. Tinkham’s exploration.

St. Cloud, October, 1856.

If I follow the injunction of that most impartial and worthy critic, Lord Jeffrey, which is, that tourists should describe those things which make the pleasantest impression on their own minds, I should begin with an account of the delightful entertainment which genuine hospitality and courtesy have here favored me with.  I passed Blannerhasset’s Island once, and from a view of the scenery, sought something of that inspiration which, from reading Wirt’s glowing description of it, I thought would be excited; but the reality was far below my anticipation.  If applied to the banks of the Mississippi River, however, at this place, where the Sauk Rapids terminate, that charming description would be no more than an adequate picture.  The residence of my friend is a little above the limits of St. Cloud, midway on the gradual rise from the river to the prairie.  It is a neat white two-story cottage, with a piazza in front.  The yard extends to the water’s edge, and in it is a grove of handsome shade trees.  Now that the leaves have fallen, we can sit on the piazza and have a full view