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               MI N-N E-TOO-KA.
           A LEGEND OF M-DE-A-TON-KA.
       WA-KAN-WAR-KA-NON-MAN-I-TOU-MIN-NE-TOO-KA.
I T was a beautiful day in June, I854, when I arrived
   at Lake M-de-a-ton-ka, and taking a small and
rudely constructed boat, was soon to a point midway of
the lake, well known to the old settlers as the dividing
line between the Sioux and Chippewa nations, where
many a bloody battle had been fought, and wvhere
many a warrior had gone down to the sleep of death.
I ascended gradually from the lake to a height of some
thirty feet, winding over an Indian trail, through a
mass of rich foliage, blooming flowers, creeping vines,
singing birds, chirping squirrels, massive trees, cooling
shades, changing scenery, until I reached the top, and
there a grand sight met my view. Stretching off in the
distance was the sparkling water, and from various
knolls ascended the smoke of the wig-wam, where the
women were engaged in the sugar bush, while the men
dotted the lake in their light canoes, in quest of game
for their evening meal. The sun shone brightly, and a
thousand diamonds seemed to glitter on the bosom of
the fair lake, as the silvery waves rippled against the
pebbly shore, and darted back again, like a beautiful
maiden toying with her jewels. Here and there were
bays and inlets and promontories; nooks and quiet,
secluded points; yonder was a dark, forbidding spot,
thickly studded with trees, and as I gazed upon it, I
could see that it was the resting place of the dead, or
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