THE St. Louis River and other smaller streams that flow down among the rocky 'hills on the northwest shore of Lake Superior, accumulate in St. Louis Bay. 

From thence they pour a brownish-red tide into the upper end of Minnesota Bay, a sheet of water about eight miles long by one mile wide, and separated from the head of the Lake by a long, narrow curved neck of land. The Nemadi River, roily at times, and light red-stained, enters the lower end of this bay. From this, by a direct channel, it opens into the Great Lake, in whose pure waters it makes a line of red for two or three miles. The St. Louis waters, entering from the upper end of the bay, also form a current in the lake of a peculiar hue. To these variously tinted currents, atmospheric conditions being favorable, the phenomenon of the mirage is probably due. 

Recently, while looking through a small telescope from the city of Duluth to the south shore of the lake, here about ten miles distant, I noticed that the forest seemed to come sheer down to the water's edge, broken here and there by high, bare banks of light red clay. While looking at this scene, I was surprised to see what appeared to be a long stratified cloud suddenly forming midway up the great bank, and stretching away to the right and left. It presently assumed an appearance of rippling water, opening as a beautiful bay into the great lake. 

A distinct bank, or cape, was thus found, continually separating, or withdrawing, from the true bank, but perfectly natural in appearance, with characteristic slopes, growth of timber, and margin of sand. The tongue, or head, of the bay in the meantime gradually advanced inland at a moderate angle with the shore of the lake, and was surrounded with a distinct appearance of flame, as if to burn away the timber to form a channel for the advancing waters. At length the cape, or promontory, seemed gradually to sink into the water, and finally disappeared, leaving only the wide expanse of the lake and the dull outlines of the distant shore. Had it not been for the gradual shifting of the scene, the known contour of the shore of the lake, and the flaming tongue of the phantom bay, the illusion would have been complete, so perfectly natural in other respects was the beautiful scene. 

When the apparition had vanished, a bright rainbow rested upon the bosom of the lake,—a reminder of the faithfulness with which the great 'Creator keeps covenant with the sons of men,—an assurance and seal to every promise of future good to his waiting children.