LIFE AT PUGET SOUND

WITH

SKETCHES OF TRAVEL

IN

WASHINGTON TERRITORY, BRITISH COLUMBIA, OREGON, AND CALIFORNIA

1865-1881

BY

CAROLINE C. LEIGHTON

BOSTONLEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERSNEW YORKCHARLES T. DILLINGHAM1884

COPYRIGHT, 1888, BY LEE AND SHEPARD. 

_All rights reserved. _

PREFACE. 

The following selections from observations and experiences during aresidence of sixteen years on the Pacific Coast, while they do not claimto describe fully that portion of the country, nor to give any accountof its great natural wealth and resources, yet indicate something of itscharacteristic features and attractions, more especially those of thePuget Sound region. 

This remote corner of our territory, hitherto almost unknown to thecountry at large, is rapidly coming into prominence, and is now madeeasy of access by the completion of the Northern Pacific Railroad. Thevast inland sea, popularly known as Puget Sound, ramifying in variousdirections, the wide-spreading and majestic forests, the ranges ofsnow-capped mountains on either side, the mild and equable climate, andthe diversified resources of this favored region, excite theastonishment and admiration of all beholders. To the lovers of the grandand beautiful, unmarred as yet by any human interference, who appreciatethe freedom from conventionalities which pertain to longer-settledportions of the globe, it presents an endless field for observation andenjoyment. There is already a steady stream of emigration to this new"land of promise, " and every thing seems to indicate for it a vigorousgrowth and development, and a brilliant and substantial future. 

CONTENTS. 

 CHAPTER I. 

 PAGE

 At Sea. --Mariguana Island. --Sea-Birds. --Shipwreck. --Life on Roncador Reef. --The Rescue. --Isthmus of Panama. --Voyage to San Francisco. --The New Baby. 1

 CHAPTER II. 

 Port Angeles. --Indian "Hunter" and his Wife. --Sailor's Funeral. --Incantation. --Indian Graves. --Chief Yeomans. --Mill Settlements. --Port Gamble Trail. --Canoe Travel. --The _Memaloost_. --Tommy and his Mother. --Olympic Range. --Ediz Hook. --Mrs. S. And her Children. --Grand Indian Wedding. --Crows and Indians. 18

 CHAPTER III. 

 Indian Chief Seattle. --Frogs and Indians. --Spring Flowers and Birds. --The Red _Tamáhnous_. --The Little Pend d'Oreille. --Indian Legend. --From Seattle to Fort Colville. --Crossing the Columbia River Bar. --The River and its Surroundings. --Its Former Magnitude. --The Grande Coulée. --Early Explorers, Heceta, Meares, Vancouver, Grey. --Curious Burial-Place. --Chinese Miners. --Umatilla. --Walla Walla. --Sage-Brush and Bunch-Grass. --Flowers in the Desert. --"Stick" Indians. --Klickatats. --Spokane Indian. --Snakes. --Dead Chiefs. --A Kamas-Field. --Basaltic Rocks. 38

 CHAPTER IV. 

 Two Hundred Miles on the Upper Columbia. --Steamer "Forty-Nine. "--Navigation in a Cañon. --Pend d'Oreille River and Lake. --Rock Paintings. --Tributaries of the Upper Columbia. --Arrow Lakes. --Kettle Falls. --Salmon-Catching. --Salmon-Dance. --Goose-Dance. 63

 CHAPTER V. 

 Old Fort Colville. --Angus McDonald and his Indian Family. --Canadian _Voyageurs_. --Father Joseph. --Hardships of the Early Missionaries. --The Coeurs d'Alêne and their Superstitions. --The Catholic Ladder. --Sisters of Notre Dame. --Skill of the Missionaries in instructing the Indians. --Father de Smet and the Blackfeet. --A Native Dance. --Spokanes. --Exclusiveness of the Coeurs d'Alêne. --Battle of Four Lakes. --The Yakima Chief and the Road-Makers. 75

 CHAPTER VI. 

 Colville to Seattle. --"Red. "--"Ferrins. "--"Broke Miners. "--A Rare Fellow-Traveller. --The Bell-Mare. --Pelouse Fall. --Red-Fox Road. --Early Californians. --Frying-Pan Incense. --Dragon-Flies. --Death of the Chief Seattle. 93

 CHAPTER VII. 

 Port Angeles Village and the Indian Ranch. --A "Ship's _Klootchman_. "--Indian _Muck-a-Muck_. --Disposition of an Old Indian Woman. --A Windy Trip to Victoria. --The Black _Tamáhnous_. --McDonald's in the Wilderness. --The Wild Cowlitz. --Up the River during a Flood. --Indian Boatmen. --Birch-Bark and Cedar Canoes. 109

 CHAPTER VIII. 

 Voyage to San Francisco. --Fog-Bound. --Port Angeles. --Passing Cape Flattery in a Storm. --Off Shore. --The "Brontes. "--The Captain and his Men. --A Fair Wind. --San Francisco Bar. --The City at Night. --Voyage to Astoria. --Crescent City. --Iron-Bound Coast. --Mount St. Helen's. --Mount Hood. --Cowlitz Valley and its Floods. --Monticello. 124

 CHAPTER IX. 

 Victoria. --Its Mountain Views, Rocks, and Flowers. --Vancouver's Admiration of the Island. --San Juan Islands. --Sir James Douglas. --Indian Wives. --Northern Indians. --Indian Workmanship. --The Thunder-Bird. --Indian Offerings to the Spirit of a Child. --Pioneers. --Crows and Sea-Birds. 137

 CHAPTER X. 

 Puget Sound and Adjacent Waters. --Its Early Explorers. --Towns, Harbors, and Channels. --Vancouver's Nomenclature. --Juan de Fuca. --Mount Baker. --Chinese "Wing. "--Ancient Indian Women. --Pink Flowering Currant and Humming-Birds. --"Ah Sing. " 151

 CHAPTER XI. 

 Rocky-mountain Region. --Railroad from Columbia River to Puget Sound. --Mountain Changes. --Mixture of Nationalities. --Journey to Coos Bay, Oregon. --Mountain Cañon. --A Branch of the Coquille. --Empire City. --Myrtle Grove. --Yaquina. --Genial Dwellers in the Woods. --Our Unknown Neighbor. --Whales. --Pet Seal and Eagle. --A Mourning Mother. --Visit from Yeomans. 165

 CHAPTER XII. 

 Puget Sound to San Francisco. --A Model Vessel. --The Captain's Relation to his Men. --Rough Water. --Beauty of the Sea. --Golden-Gate Entrance. --San Francisco Streets. --Santa Barbara. --Its Invalids. --Our Spanish Neighbors. --The Mountains and the Bay. --Kelp. --Old Mission. --A Simoom. --The Channel Islands. --A New Type of Chinamen. --An Old Spanish House. 182

 CHAPTER XIII. 

 Our Aerie. --The Bay and the Hills. --The Little Gnome. --Earthquake. --Temporary Residents. --The Trade-Wind. --Seal-Rocks. --Farallon Islands. --Exhilarating Air. --Approach of Summer. --Centennial Procession. --Suicides. --Mission Dolores. --Father Pedro Font and his Expedition. --The Mission Indians. --Chinese Feast of the Dead. --Curious Weather. 199

 CHAPTER XIV. 

 Quong. --His _Protégé_. --His Peace-Offering. --The Chinese and their Grandmothers. --Ancient Ideas. --Irish, French, and Spanish Chinamen. --Chinese Ingenuity. --Hostility against the Chinese. --Their Proclamations. --Discriminations against them. --Their Evasion of the Law. --Their Perseverance against all Obstacles. --Their Reverence for their Ancestors, and Fear of the Dead. --Their Medical Knowledge. --Their Belief in the Future. --Their Curious Festivals. --Indian Names for the Months. --Resemblance between the Indians and Chinese. --Their Superstitions. 220

 CHAPTER XV. 

 Chun Fa's Funeral. --Alameda. --Gophers and Lizards. --Poison Oak. --Sturdy Trees. --Baby Lizards. --Old Alameda. --Emperor Norton. --California Generosity. --The Dead Newsboy. --Anniversary of the Goddess Kum Fa. --Chinese Regard for the Moon and Flowers. --A Shin Worshipper. 242

LIFE AT PUGET SOUND. 

I. 

 At Sea. --Mariguana Island. --Sea-Birds. --Shipwreck. --Life on Roncador Reef. --The Rescue. --Isthmus of Panama. --Voyage to San Francisco. --The New Baby. 

 ATLANTIC OCEAN, May 26, 1865. 

It is a great experience to feel the loneliness of the sea, --to see thewhole circle of the heavens, and nothing under it but the rising andfalling water, from morning till night, day after day. 

The first night we were out the porpoises came up at twilight, andsported round the vessel. I saw some sea-birds that seemed to beplaying, --running and sliding on the green, glassy waves. In the wake ofthe vessel were most beautiful changing colors. Little Nelly S. Sat withus to watch the phosphorescence. She said, "The stars in the sea call tome, with little fine voices, 'Nelly, Nelly, are you alive?'"

 MAY 27, 1865. 

We have had our first sight of land, --Mariguana, a coral island, one ofthe Bahamas. Every one stood in silence to see it, it was so beautiful. The spray dashed so high, that, as it fell, we at first took it forstreams and cascades. It was just at sunrise; and we cast longing looksat the soft green hills, bathed in light. Now it is gone, and we haveonly the wide ocean again. But a new color has appeared in the water, --apurplish pink, which looks very tropical; and there are blotches ofyellow seaweed. Some of it caught in the wheel, and stopped it. Thesailors drew it up, and gave it to the children to taste. It was like alittle fruit, and they say the birds eat it. 

The sea is growing quite rough. I was thinking of being a little afraid, the vessel plunged so; but Mother Cary's chickens came out, and Ithought I might as well consider myself as one of them, and not in anymore danger than they are. 

 CARIBBEAN SEA, May 28, 1865. 

We have had a great experience of really rough weather. The spray dashedover the deck, and only the hardiest could keep up. Any one who tried tomove was thrown off his feet. Preparations were made for divine serviceby lashing two boxes together in the middle of the deck, and spreadinga flag over them. It was conducted by a Scotch Presbyterian minister. Ashe began his prayer, he received quite an addition to his congregation, in a flock of great birds, that appeared on my side of the vessel. Theywheeled round, and settled down softly together. I do not know what theyare, but suppose they are gulls of some kind. They have long, narrowwings, brown, with a little black, and snow-white underneath. I am halfinclined to envy these wild, soulless creatures, that know no fear. 

 RONCADOR REEF, June 5, 1865. 

On Tuesday morning, May 30, between three and four o'clock, we wereawakened by the sharp stroke of the engine-bell, a deep grinding sound, and the sudden stopping of the vessel. We knew that we had not arrivedat our port of destination, and felt instinctively that somethingextraordinary had happened. For a moment all was silence; then inquiriesarose from all sides, as to what was the matter. The engine seemed to bein a great state of commotion; and the vessel began to writhe with aheavy, laborious movement, as if attempting to free herself from thegrasp of some monster. We dressed hastily, and went into the cabin, where we found a good many of the passengers, and learned that thevessel had struck on a coral-reef. We put on life-preservers, and satwaiting until daylight, expecting every moment the vessel would split. As soon as it was light enough, we went upon deck, and saw the sailorscut away the masts and smoke-stacks, which went over the side of theship. The water dashed over the deck, so that we were obliged to gobelow. It seemed there as if we were under the ocean, with the waterbreaking over our heads. Chandeliers, glasses, and other movablearticles were crashing together around us. The cabin was filled withpeople, quietly sitting, ready for they knew not what. But among all theseven hundred passengers there was no shrieking nor crying nor groaning, except from the little children, who were disturbed by the noise anddiscomfort. How well they met the expectation of death! Faces that I hadpassed as most ordinary, fascinated me by their quiet, firm mouths, andeyes so beautiful, I knew it must be the soul I saw looking throughthem. Some parties of Swedish emigrants took out their littleprayer-books, and sat clasping each other's hands, and reading them. Amissionary bound for Micronesia handed out his tracts in all directions, but no one took much notice of them. Generally, each one seemed to feelthat he could meet death alone, and in his own way. 

In the afternoon a faint semblance of land was seen off on the horizon, and a boat was sent out to explore. It was gone a long time, and asnight approached was anxiously looked for. Just about dark, it appearedin sight. As it drew near, we saw the men in it waving their hats, andheard them shouting, by which we knew they had succeeded in findingland. The men on the vessel gave a hearty response, but the women couldnot keep back their tears. 

That night the women and children were lowered with ropes, over the sideof the vessel, into boats, and taken to a raft near by, hastilyconstructed on the rocks at the surface of the water, from loose spars, stateroom-doors, and such other available material as could be securedfrom the vessel. All night long we lay there, watching the dim outlineof the ship, which still had the men on board, as she rose and fell witheach wave, --the engine-bell tolling with every shock. The lights thathung from the side of the vessel increased the wild, funereal appearanceof every thing about us. They continually advanced and receded, andseemed to motion us to follow them. There was a strange fascinationabout them, which I could not resist; and I watched them through thewhole night. 

At daylight the next morning the ship's boats began to take us over tothe island discovered the day before, which was slightly elevated abovethe surface of the water, and about four miles distant from the wreck. As we approached the shore, some new birds, unlike any I had seenbefore, --indolent-looking, quiet, and amiable, --flew out, and hoveredover the boat, peering down at us, as if inquiring what strangecreatures were about to invade their home. Probably they had never seenany human beings before. The sailors said they were "boobies;" and theycertainly appeared very unsophisticated, and quite devoid of the wit andsprightliness of most birds. 

Only a few persons could be landed at a time, and I wandered about atfirst almost alone. It was two days before all the passengers weretransferred. Every thing was so new and strange, that I felt as if I hadbeen carried off to another planet; and it certainly was a greatexperience, to walk over a portion of the globe just as it was made, andwholly unaltered by man. 

I thought of an account of a wreck on this same water I had once read, in which the Caribbean was spoken of as the most beautiful though mosttreacherous of seas, and the intensity of color was mentioned. Suchrose-color I never saw before as in the shells and mosses we find here, nor such lovely pale and green tints as the water all about us shows. 

We have been here on this bare reef six days, with the breakers allaround us, and do not know whether we shall get off or not. We amuseourselves every morning with looking at the pert little birds, as queeras the boobies, though quite different from them, that sit and nod toeach other incessantly, and give each other little hits with theirbills, as if these were their morning salutations, --a rough way ofasking after each other's health. 

 SAN FRANCISCO, July 2, 1865. 

We are safely here at last, after forty-two days' passage, --longer thanthe children of Israel were in the wilderness. When we return it will beby a wagon-train, if the Pacific Railroad is not done. 

When we landed on Roncador Reef, we had no data for conjecturing wherewe were, except that we remembered passing the island of Jamaica attwilight on the evening preceding the wreck. We were afterwardsinformed that the vessel was seized by a strong current, and borne faraway from her proper course. How gay we were that night, with our musicand dancing, exhilarated all the more by the swiftness of the white, rushing water that drove us on to our fate!

The heat on the island was so intense, that our greatest necessity wasfor some shelter from the sun. The only materials which the placefurnished us were rocks of coral, with which we built up walls, overwhich were spread pieces of sail from the vessel. We lived in theselodges, in little companies. We sat together in ours in the daytime, andcould not leave our shelter for a moment without feeling as if we weresunstruck. Every night we abandoned it, and slept out on the rocks; butthe frequent little showers proved so uncomfortable that we were drivento great extremity to devise some covering. R. 's ingenuity proved equalto the emergency. He secured an opportunity to visit the vessel (whichheld together for some days) in one of the boats which were continuallyplying between her and the island, bringing over all available stores. All the mattresses and other bedding that could be secured had beendistributed, mostly to the mothers and children. His penetrating eyedetected the materials for a coverlet in the strips of painted canvasnailed to the deck. He managed without tools to tear off some pieces, and, by untwisting some tarred rope, to fasten them together; thusproviding a quilt, which, if not comfortable, was at least waterproof, and served to draw over us when a shower came on. It was no protection, however, against the crabs, large and small, that used to crawl underit, and eat pieces out of our clothes, and even our boots, while we wereasleep. These crabs were of the _hermit_ order. Each one, from theminutest to the largest, had taken possession of the empty shell of someother creature, exactly large enough for him, and walked about with iton his back, and drew himself snugly into it when molested. Every littlecrevice in the rocks had a white or speckled egg in it when we landed, and from these we made a few good meals. The one day the women spent onthe island alone with the birds passed in the most friendly manner; butafter the men and boys came, the larger ones abandoned us. 

We felt sorry not to bring away some of the beautiful shells which wereplentiful there, and more gorgeous than any thing I ever saw before. While the living creature is in them, they are much brighter than afterit is dead; and in the length of time it takes to bring them fromtropical countries, they fade almost like flowers. Mrs. S. Was soenterprising, and, I must say, so unæsthetic, as to try to concoct ameal from the occupants of some of the large conch-shells taken from thebeach, cooking it for a considerable length of time in a large brasskettle, the only available utensil. Those who partook of it in ourlittle group had cause to repent of their rashness; but we did not liketo charge the injury to the lovely creatures which were sacrificed forthis feast, preferring to "blame it on" to the brass kettle, as theCalifornia children would express it. The more cautious ones contentedthemselves with their two sea-biscuits and fragment of beef or pork perday, which were the regular rations served to each from the stores savedfrom the ship. Some surface water, found among the rocks, was carefullyguarded, and sparingly dealt out. 

After we had been four or five days on the island, two of the ship'sboats were sent out to seek assistance, manned by volunteer crews; oneheaded for Aspinwall, which was thought to be about two hundred andfifty miles distant, and the other to search for what was supposed to bethe nearest land. 

Very early on the morning of the tenth day we heard the cry of "Asail!" We started up from our rocky beds, and stood, without daring tospeak. There was a little upright shadow, about as large as a finger, against the sky. Every eye was turned to it, but no one yet dared toconfirm it; and, even if it were a sail, those on board the vessel mightnot see our island, it was so low, or our flag of distress, as we hadnothing on which to raise it very high. We stood for several minutes, without daring to look at each other with the consciousness that we weresaved. We presently saw that there were two little schooners beating upagainst the wind, directly towards us, and that they carried the redEnglish flag. They had been catching turtles on the Mosquito Coast. Assoon as our boat reached them, they unloaded their turtles (whichoccupied them a day), with the exception of three large ones which theyreserved for us, and then started at once. 

These small vessels were unequal to carrying away half the people on theisland, and they had no arrangements for the comfort of passengers. Aconsiderable number decided to embark on them, and commenced doing so;while the larger part of the company remained on the spot, to take theirchance of escape in some other way, since communication with the worldwas now established. 

The next day we were all rejoiced by the appearance of two United Statesgunboats from Aspinwall, which point was reached by our other boat, after a rough experience; the waves having capsized her during thepassage, and swallowed up the provisions and nautical instruments. 

It was then decided that all the company should be taken to Aspinwall bythe United States vessels, and their boats and ours were at once put toservice in transferring the people from the island; who, as theygathered up such fragments of their property as had been rescued fromthe wreck, and tied it up in bedquilts or blankets, shouldered theirbundles, and moved slowly down to the point of departure, --theirgarments weather-stained and crab-eaten, some of them without shoes orhats, and all with much-bronzed faces, --presented a picturesque andbeggarly appearance, in striking contrast to their aspect before thewreck. 

We were treated with the greatest kindness by every one connected withthe gunboats. They took us in their arms, and carried us into the boats, and stood all night beside us, offering ice-water and wine. They greatlybewailed our misfortunes, and told us, that, when they heard of ourcondition, they put on every pound of steam the vessels would bear, inorder to reach us as speedily as possible, fearing that some greatercalamity might befall us, --that our supply of water might entirely fail, or that the trade-wind might change, and a storm bring the sea over theisland. They told us, too, that we were very far off the track ofvessels; and, if our boats had failed to bring succor, in allprobability no one would ever have come there in search of us. 

The two schooners decided to remain a while, and wreck the vessel. As westeamed away from the reef, we passed her huge skeleton upon the rocks, the bell still hanging to the iron part of the frame. 

On the second day we reached Aspinwall, and disembarked. As we sat onthe wharf, in little groups, on pieces of lumber or on our bundles, waiting for arrangements to be made for our transportation across theIsthmus, a black man, employed there, fixed his eye upon ourdark-skinned Julia, and, approaching, asked if she "got free in theLinkum war. " I told him that she did, and asked him where he came from. He said he was from Jamaica; and I said, "I suppose you have been free along time?" to which he, replied, with great energy, "Before I wasborn, I was free, " and repeated it again and again, --"before I wasborn. "

We found that Julia, to whom all things were new in the land of freedom, thought that the island where we spent so many days was a regularstopping-place on the way to California, and that the wreck was alegitimate mode of stopping; as one day she inquired if that was the waythey always went to San Francisco, and said, if she had known travellingwas so hard, she would not have started. This accounted for herequanimity, which surprised me, after the vessel struck the reef, as shesat quietly eating her cakes, while every thing was going to destructionaround us, and the sea broke above our heads. 

In crossing the Isthmus of Panama, we were delighted with the neatappearance of the natives, whom we saw along the roadside, or sitting intheir little huts near by, which were made of the trunks of the tallpalm-trees, in columns, open at the side, and thatched with leaves. These people were clad in clean white garments, the women with muslinsand laces drooping from their bare shoulders, and with bright flowers intheir hair. 

On reaching Panama, the women there greeted us with great kindness andsympathy. One of them threw her arms around one of the first women ofour party that she saw, and exclaimed, "Oh, we have thought so muchabout you! we were afraid you would die for want of water. " It seemedstrange that they should have cared so much, when a little while beforethey never knew of our existence. I felt as if I had hardly had a chancebefore in my life to know what mere humanity meant, apart fromindividual interest, and how strong a feeling it is. We realized stillmore the kindness of these "dear, dark-eyed sisters, " when we opened thetrunk of clothing which they sent on board the "America, " the steamerthat took us to San Francisco. 

The voyage up the Pacific coast was long and wearisome. For some days wefelt seriously the ill effects of the island life and the tropic heat, and could only endure; until, one morning, we came up on deck, and therewere the beautiful serrated hills of Old California. We had rounded CapeSt. Lucas, and had a strong, exhilarating breeze from the coast, andbegan to be ourselves again. 

The monotony of our sea-life was broken by one event of specialinterest, --the addition of another human being to our large number. Imust mention first, --for it seems as if they brought her, --that all oneday we sailed in a cloud of beautiful gray-and-white gulls, flyingincessantly over and around us, with their pretty orange bills andfringed wings and white fan-tails. They were very gentle and dove-like. They staid with us only that day. The last thing that I saw at night, far into the dark, was one flying after us; and, the next morning, weheard of the birth of the baby. She was christened in the cabin, the dayafter, by the Micronesian missionary, in the presence of a largecompany. A conch-shell from the reef served as the christening-basin. The American flag was festooned overhead; and, as far as possible, thecabin was put into festive array. She was named "Roncadora America, "from the reef, and the vessel on which she was born. The captain gaveher some little garments he was carrying home to his own unborn baby, and the gold ties for her sleeves. When her name was pronounced, theship's gun was fired; then the captain addressed the father, who heldher, and presented him with a purse of fifty dollars from thepassengers, ending in triumph with--

 "And now, my friends, see Roncadora, With freedom's banner floating o'er her. "

The father then uncovered her; she having made herself quite apparentbefore by wrestling with her little fists under the counterpane, anduttering a variety of wild and incomprehensible sounds. She proved ahandsome baby, large and red, with a profusion of soft, dark hair. 

II. 

 Port Angeles. --Indian "Hunter" and his Wife. --Sailor's Funeral. --Incantation. --Indian Graves. --Chief Yeomans. --Mill Settlements. --Port Gamble Trail. --Canoe Travel. --The _Memaloost_. --Tommy and his Mother. Olympic Range. --Ediz Hook. --Mrs. S. And her Children. --Grand Indian Wedding. --Crows and Indians. 

 PORT ANGELES, WASHINGTON TERRITORY, July 20, 1865. 

We reached here day before yesterday, very early in the morning. We werecalled to the forward deck; and before us was a dark sea-wall ofmountains, with misty ravines and silver peaks, --the Olympic Range, afit home for the gods. 

A fine blue veil hung over the water, between us and the shore; and, theair being too heavy for the smoke of the Indian village to rise, it layin great curved lines, like dim, rainbow-colored serpents, over sea andland. 

I thought it was the loveliest place I had ever seen. The old Spanishexplorers must have thought so too, as they named it "Port of theAngels. "

We found that the path to our house was an Indian trail, winding abouta mile up the bluff from the beach; the trees shutting overhead, and allabout us a drooping white spirea, a most bridal-looking flower. Here andthere, on some precipitous bank, was the red Indian-flame. Every once ina while, we came to a little opening looking down upon the sea; and thesound of it was always in our ears. At last we reached a partiallycleared space, and there stood the house; behind it a mountain range, with snow filling all the ravines, and, below, the fulness and prime ofsummer. We are nearly at the foot of the hills, which send us down theirsnow-winds night and morning, and their ice-cold water. Between us andthem are the fir-trees, two hundred and fifty and three hundred feethigh; and all around, in the burnt land, a wilderness of bloom, --thepurple fireweed, that grows taller than our heads, and in the richestluxuriance, of the same color as the Alpine rose, --a beautifulforeground for snowy hills. 

The house is not ready for us. We are obliged at present, for want of achimney, to stop with our nearest neighbor. But we pay it frequentvisits. Yesterday, as we sat there, we received a call from two Indians, in extreme undress. They walked in with perfect freedom, and sat downon the floor. We shall endeavor to procure from Victoria a dictionary ofthe Haidah, Chinook, and other Indian languages, by the aid of which weshall be able to receive such visitors in a more satisfactory manner. Atpresent, we can only smile very much at them. Fortunately, on thisoccasion, our carpenter was present, who told us that the man was called"Hunter, " which served as an introduction. Hunter took from the woman awhite bag, in which was a young wild bird, and put it into my hands. Thecarpenter said that this Indian had done some work for him, bringing uplumber from the beach, etc. , and had come for his pay; that he would nottake a white man's word for a moment, but if, in making an agreementwith him, a white man gave him a little bit of paper with _any thing_written on it, he was perfectly satisfied, and said, "You my _tilikum_[relation]--I wait. "

The neighbor with whom we are stopping says, that, the night before wecame, a wildcat glared in at her as she sat at her window. 

It looks very wild here, the fir-trees are so shaggy. I think the bearsyet live under them. Many of the trees are dead. When the setting sunlights up the bare, pointed trunks, the great troops of firs look likean army with spears of gold, climbing the hills. 

 JULY 30, 1865. 

To-day, as we were descending by the trail from the bluff to the beach, we saw a funeral procession slowly ascending the wagon-road. It camefrom the Sailors' Hospital. We waited until it passed. The cartcontaining the coffin was drawn by oxen, and followed by a little whitedog and a few decrepit sailors. There was no sign of mourning, but areverent look in their faces. The body had been wrapped in a flag bybrotherly hands. The deep music of the surf followed them, and the darkfir-branches met overhead. 

In California, the poorest of people, by the competition of undertakers, are furnished, at low rates, with the use of silver-mounted hearses andnodding plumes, a shrouding of crape, and a long line of carriages. Eventhose who have really loved the one who is gone seem, in someincomprehensible way, to find a solace in these manifestations, andwould have considered this sailor's solitary funeral the extreme ofdesolation. But Nature took him gently to her bosom; the soft sky andthe fragrant earth seemed to be calling him home. 

We found by inquiry that it was the funeral of an entirely unknownsailor, who had not even any distant friends to whom he wished messagessent. His few possessions he left for the use of the children of theplace, and quietly closed his eyes among strangers, returning peacefullyto the unknown country whence he came. 

 AUGUST 2, 1865. 

We went this morning to an Indian _Tamáhnous_ (incantation), to driveaway the evil spirits from a sick man. He lay on a mat, surrounded bywomen, who beat on instruments made by stretching deer-skin over aframe, and accompanied the noise thus produced by a monotonous wail. Once in a while it became quite stirring, and the sick man seemed to beimproved by it. Then an old man crept in stealthily, on all-fours, and, stealing up to him, put his mouth to the flesh, here and there, apparently sucking out the disease. 

 AUGUST 17, 1865. 

Hunter stopped to rest to-day on our door-steps. He had a haunch ofelk-meat on his back, one end resting on his head, with a cushion ofgreen fern-leaves. He called me "_Closhe tum-tum_" (Good Heart), andgave me a great many beautiful smiles. 

We find that there are a number of canoes suspended in the largefir-trees on some of our land, with the mummies of Indians in them. These are probably the bodies of chiefs, or persons of high rank. Thereis also a graveyard on the beach, which is gay with bright blankets, raised like flags, or spread out and nailed upon the roofs over thegraves, and myriads of tin pans: we counted thirty on one grave. Alooking-glass is one of the choicest of the decorations. On one wenoticed an old trunk, and others were adorned with rusty guns. 

Last night there came a prolonged, heavy, booming sound, different fromany thing we had heard before. In the morning we saw that there had beena great landslide on the mountain back of us, bringing down rocks andtrees. 

 AUGUST 30, 1865. 

Yeomans, an old Indian chief, the _Tyee_ of the Flat-heads at PortAngeles, came to see us to-day. He pointed to himself, and said, "Me allthe same white man;" explaining that he did not paint his face, nordrink whiskey. Mrs. S. , at the light-house, said that she had frequentlyinvited him to dinner, and that he handled his napkin with perfectpropriety; although he is often to be seen sitting cross-legged on thesand, eating his meal of sea-urchins. 

He is very dramatic, and described to us by sounds only, without ourunderstanding any of the words, how wild the water was at Cape Flattery, and how the ships were rocked about there. It was thrilling to hear thesounds of the winds as he represented them: I felt as if I were in themidst of a great storm. 

His little tribe appear to have great respect for his authority as achief, and show a proper deference towards him. He is a mild and gentleruler, and not overcome by the pride and dignity of his position. He isalways ready to assist in dragging our boat on to the beach, and doesnot disdain the dime offered him in compensation for the service. 

His son, a grown man, no longer young, who introduced himself to us as"Mr. Yeomans's son, " and who appears to have no other designation, ismuch more of a wild Indian than the old man. Sometimes I see him atnight, going out with his _klootchman_ in their little canoe; she, crouched in her scarlet blanket at one end, holding the dark sail, andthe great yellow moon shining on them. 

I used to wonder, when we first came here, what their interests were, and what they were thinking about all the time. Little by little we findout. To-night he came in to tell us that there was going to be a great_potlach_ at the coal-mines, where a large quantity of _iktas_ would begiven away, --tin pans, guns, blankets, canoes, and money. How his eyesglistened as he described it! It seems that any one who aspires to be achief must first give a _potlach_ to his tribe, at which he dispensesamong them all his possessions. 

This afternoon, as I sat at my window, my attention was attracted by alittle noise. I looked up; and there was a beautiful young Indian girl, holding up a basket of fruit, of the same color as her lips and cheeks. It was a delicious wild berry that grows here, known as the redhuckleberry. Mrs. S. Knew her, and told me that she was the daughter ofthe old chief, lately betrothed to a Cape Flattery Indian. 

 SEPTEMBER 20, 1865. 

Everywhere about Puget Sound and the adjoining waters are little arms ofthe sea running up into the land, like the fiords of Northern Europe. Many of them have large sawmills at the head. We have been travellingabout, stopping here and there at the little settlements around themills. We were everywhere most hospitably received. All strangers arewelcomed as guests. Every thing seems so comfortable, and on such aliberal scale, that we never think of the people as poor, although therichest here have only bare wooden walls, and a few articles offurniture, often home-made. It seems, rather, as if we had moved two orthree generations back, when no one had any thing better; or, as if wemight perhaps be living in feudal times, these great mill-owners havesuch authority in the settlements. Some of them possess very largetracts of land, have hundreds of men in their employ, own steamboats andhotels, and have large stores of general merchandise, in connection withtheir mill-business. They sometimes provide amusements for the men, little dramatic entertainments, etc. , --to keep them from resorting todrink; and encourage them to send for their families, and to makegardens around their houses. 

The house where we stopped at Port Madison was very attractive. Themaple-trees had been cut down to build it; but life is so vigorous here, that they grew up under the porch, and then, as they became taller, cameoutside, and curved up around it, so that it was a perfect nest. Themaple here is not just like the Eastern tree, but has a larger, darkerleaf. Inside, the rooms were large and low, with great fireplaces filledwith flaming logs, that illuminated them brilliantly. 

We began our expedition round the Sound in a plunger, --the mostatrocious little craft ever constructed. Its character is well expressedby its name. These boats are dangerous enough in steady hands; but, asthey are exceedingly likely to be becalmed, the danger is very muchincreased from the temptation to drink that seems always to assail thecaptain and men in these wearisome delays. 

To avoid waiting two or three days at Port Madison for the steamer, wedetermined to cross to the next port by an Indian trail through thewoods; though we were told that it was very rough travelling, and thatno white woman had ever crossed there, and, also, that we might have totake circuitous routes to avoid fires. We started early in the morning, allowing the whole day for the journey. We passed through one of theburnt regions, where the trees were still standing, so gray and spectralthat it was like a strange dream. Farther along we heard a prolonged, mournful sound, that we could not account for; but, in a little while, we came to where the bright flames were darting from the trunks andbranches, and curling around them. The poor old trees were creaking andgroaning, preparatory to falling. We were obliged, occasionally, toabandon the trail; or, rather, it abandoned us, being burnt through. Off the path, the underbrush was almost impassable; the vine-maple, withcrooked stems and tangled branches, with coarse briers and vines, knitevery thing together. It seemed more like a tropical than a northernforest, there were so many glossy evergreen leaves. We recognized amongthem the holly-leaf barberry (known also as the Oregon grape), one ofthe most beautiful of shrubs. Its pretty clusters of yellow flowers werewithered, and its fruit not yet ripe. We found also the sallal, --theIndian's berry, --the salmon-colored raspberry, and the coral-redhuckleberry. Occasionally we heard the scream of a hawk, or the whirringof great wings above our heads; but, for the most part, we tramped on inperfect silence. The woods were too dark and dense for small birds. 

It was curious to notice how much some of the little noises sounded likewhispers, or like footsteps. There was hardly a chance that there couldbe any other human beings there besides ourselves. It recalled to me theIndian's dread of _skookums_ (spirits) in the deep woods. To him, themere flutter of a leaf had a meaning; the sighing of the wind wasintelligible language. So many generations of Indians had crossed thattrail, and so few white people, I felt as if some subtile aroma ofIndian spirit must linger still about the place, and steal into ourthoughts. Occasionally an owl stirred in the thicket beside us, or wecaught a glimpse of the mottled beauty of a snake gliding across ourpath. The great boom and crash of the falling trees startled us, untilwe were used to it, and understood it. 

Whenever we left the trail, we felt some doubt lest we might not find itagain, or might happen upon an impassable stream that would cut us offfrom farther progress; not feeling quite equal to navigating with a poleon a snag, after the fashion of the Indians. 

Near sunset, when the woods began to grow darker around us, we saw abird, about as large as a robin, with a black crescent on his breast. His song was very different from that of the robin, and consisted offive or six notes, regularly descending in minor key. It thrilled me tohear it in the solitary woods: it was like the wail of an Indian spirit. 

It began to be quite a serious question to us, what we were to do forthe night; as how near or how far Port Gamble might be, we could nottell. There was no possibility of our climbing the straight fir-trees, with branches high overhead; and to stop on the ground was not to bethought of, for fear of wild beasts. We hastened on, but the trailbecame almost undistinguishable before the lights of Port Gambleappeared below us. As we descended to the settlement, we were met withalmost as much excitement on the part of the mill people, who had nevercrossed the trail, as if we had risen from the water, or floated downfrom the sky, among them. 

We take great satisfaction in the recollection of this one day of pureIndian life. 

The next day we decided to try a canoe. We should not have ventured togo alone with the Indians, not understanding their talk; but anotherpassenger was to go with us, who represented that he had learned theonly word it would be necessary to use. He explained to us, after westarted, that the word was "_hyac_, " which meant "hurry up;" the onlydanger being that we should not reach Port Townsend before dark, as theywere apt to proceed in so leisurely a way when left to themselves. Aftera while, the bronze paddlers--two _siwashes_ (men) and two _klootchmen_(women)--began to show some abatement of zeal in their work, and ourfellow-passenger pronounced the talismanic word, with some emphasis;whereat they laughed him to scorn, and made some sarcastic remarks, half Chinook and half English, from which we gathered that they advisedhim, if he wanted to reach Port Townsend before dark, to tell the sun tostop, and not tell them to hurry up. We could only look on, and admiretheir magnificent indifference. They stopped whenever they liked, andlaughed, and told stories. The sky darkened in a very threatening way, and a heavy shower came on; but it made not the slightest difference tothem. After it was over, there was a splendid rainbow, like the greatgate of heaven. This animated the Indians, and their spirits rose, sothat they began to sing; and we drifted along with them, catching enoughof their careless, joyous mood, not to worry about Port Townsend, although we did not reach the wharf till two or three hours after dark. 

A day or two after, we found, rather to our regret, that we should beobliged to take a canoe again, from Port Discovery. The intoxicated"Duke of Wellington"--an Indian with a wide gold band round his hat, anda dilapidated naval uniform--came down, and invited us to go in hissloop. We politely declined the offer, and selected Tommy, the onlyIndian, we were told, who did not drink. With the aid of some of thebystanders, we asked his views of the weather. He said there wouldundoubtedly be plenty of wind, and plenty of rain, but it would not makeany difference: he had mats enough, and we could stop in the woods. But, as we had other ideas of comfort, we waited two days; and, as theweather was still unsettled, we took the precaution, before starting, togive him his directions for the trip: "_Halo_ wind, Port Angeles; _hyiu_wind, Dungeness, " meaning that we were to have the privilege of stoppingat Dungeness if it should prove too stormy to go on. So he and hislittle _klootchman_, about as big as a child of ten, took us off. Whenwe reached the portage over which they had to carry the canoe, hepointed out the place of the _memaloost_ (the dead). I see the Indiansoften bury them between two bodies of water, and have wondered if thishad any significance to them. I have noticed, too, that theirburial-places have always wild and beautiful surroundings. At thisplace, the blue blankets over the graves waved in the wind, like thewings of some great bird. A chief was buried here; and some enormouswooden figures, rudely carved, stood to guard him. They looked old andworn. They had long, narrow eyes, high cheek-bones, and long upper lips, like true Indians, with these features somewhat exaggerated. 

We tried to talk with Tommy a little about the _memaloost_. He said itwas all the same with an Indian, whether he was _memaloost_, or on the_illahie_ (the earth); meaning that he was equally alive. We were toldat the store, that Tommy still bought sugar and biscuits for his childwho had died. 

When we reached the other side of the portage, the surf roared so loud, it seemed frightful to launch the canoe in it; but Tommy praised R. As_skookum_ (very strong) in helping to conduct it over. He seemed muchmore good-natured than the Indians we had travelled with before. Hesmiled at the loon floating past us, and spoke to it. 

When we reached Dungeness, he represented that it would be very roughoutside, in the straits. So he took us to a farmhouse. I began tosuspect his motive, when I saw that there was a large Indian encampmentthere, and he pointed to some one he said was all the same as his mamma. It was the exact representation of a sphinx, --an old gray creature lyingon the sand, with the upper part of her body raised, and her lower limbsconcealed by her blanket. I expected to see Tommy run and embrace her:but he walked coolly by, without giving her any greeting whatever; andshe remained perfectly imperturbable, never stirred, and her expressiondid not change in the least. I was horror-stricken, but afterwardsaltered my views of her, and came to the conclusion that she was a good, kind mother, only that it was their way to refrain from all appearanceof emotion. When we started the next morning, she came down to the canoewith the little _klootchman_, loaded with presents, which she carried ina basket on her back, supported by a broad band round herhead, --smoking-hot venison, and a looking-glass for the child's grave, among them. The old lady waded into the water, and pushed us off withgreat energy and strong ejaculations. 

As we approached Port Angeles, we had a fine view of the Olympic Rangeof mountains, --shining peaks of silver in clear outline; later, onlydark points emerging from seas of yellow light. Little clouds were drawntowards them, and seemed like birds hovering over them, sometimeslighting, or sailing slowly off. 

 EDIZ HOOK LIGHT, September 23, 1865. 

This light-house is at the end of a long, narrow sand-spit, known by theunpoetical name of Ediz Hook, which runs out for three miles into theStraits of Fuca, in a graceful curve, forming the bay of Port Angeles. Outside are the roaring surf and heavy swell of the sea; inside thatslender arm, a safe shelter. 

In a desolate little house near by, lives Mrs. S. , whose husband wasrecently lost at sea. She is a woman who awakens my deepest wonder, fromher being so able to dispense with all that most women depend on. Sheprefers still to live here (her husband's father keeps the light), andfinds her company in her great organ. One of the last things her husbanddid was to order it for her, and it arrived after his death. I think thesailors must hear it as they pass the light, and wonder where thebeautiful music comes from. There is something very soft and sweet inher voice and touch. 

Sometimes I see the four children out in the boat. The little girls areonly four and six years old, yet they handle the oars with ease. As Ilook at their bare bright heads in the sunshine, they seem as pretty aspond-lilies. I feel as if they were as safe, they are so used to thewater. 

 PORT ANGELES, October 1, 1865. 

Port Angeles has been the scene of a grand ceremony, --the marriage ofYeomans's daughter to the son of a Makah chief. Many of the Makah tribeattended it. They came in a fleet of fifty canoes, --large, handsomeboats, their high pointed beaks painted and carved, and decorated withgay colors. The chiefs had eagle-feathers on their heads, greatfeather-fans in their hands, and were dressed in black bear-skins. OurFlat-heads in their blankets looked quite tame in contrast with them. They approached the shore slowly, standing in the canoes. When theyreached the landing in front of Yeomans's ranch, the congratulationsbegan, with wild gesticulations, leapings, and contortions. They weretall, savage-looking men. Some of them had rings in their noses; and allhad a much more primitive, uncivilized look, than our Indians on theSound. I could hardly believe that the gentlemanly old Yeomans woulddeliver up his pretty daughter to the barbarians that came to claim her, and looked to see some one step forward and forbid the banns; but theceremony proceeded as if every thing were satisfactory. There may bemore of the true old Indian in him than I imagined; or perhaps this is apolitical movement to consolidate the friendship of the tribes. Whenthey landed, they formed a procession, bearing a hundred new blankets, red and white, as a _potlach_ to the tribe. They brought also some ofthe much-prized blue blankets, reserved for special ceremonies and theuse of chiefs. 

What occurred inside the lodge, we could not tell; but were quitetouched at seeing Yeomans's son take the flag from his dead sister'sgrave, and plant it on the beach at high-water mark, as if it were akind of participation, on the part of the dead girl, in the joy of theoccasion. 

 OCTOBER 5, 1865. 

Flocks of crows hover continually about the Indian villages. The mostproverbially suspicious of all birds is here familiar and confiding. TheIndian exercises superstitious care over them, but whether from love orfear we could never discover. It is very difficult to find out what anIndian believes. We have sometimes heard that they consider the crowstheir ancestors. It is a curious fact, that the Indians, in talking, make so much use of the palate, --_kl_ and other guttural soundsoccurring so often, --and that the crow, in his deep "caw, caw, " uses thesame organ. It may be significant of some psychological relationshipbetween them. 

III. 

 Indian Chief Seattle. --Frogs and Indians. --Spring Flowers and Birds. --The Red _Tamáhnous_. --The little Pend d'Oreille. --Indian Legend. --From Seattle to Fort Colville. --Crossing the Columbia River Bar. --The River and its Surroundings. --Its Former Magnitude. --The Grande Coulée. --Early Explorers, Heceta, Meares, Vancouver, Grey. --Curious Burial-Place. --Chinese Miners. --Umatilla. --Walla Walla. --Sage-Brush and Bunch-Grass. --Flowers in the Desert. --"Stick" Indians. --Klickatats. --Spokane Indian. --Snakes. --Dead Chiefs. --A Kamas-Field. --Basaltic Rocks. 

 SEATTLE, WASHINGTON TERRITORY, November 5, 1865. 

We saw here a very dignified Indian, old and poor, but with somethingabout him that led us to suspect that he was a chief. We found, uponinquiry, that it was Seattle, the old chief for whom the town was named, and the head of all the tribes on the Sound. He had with him a littlebrown sprite, that seemed an embodiment of the wind, --such a swift, elastic little creature, --his great-grandson, with no clothes about him, though it was a cold November day. To him, motion seemed as natural asrest. 

Here we first saw Mount Rainier. It was called by the Indians _Tacoma_(The nourishing breast). It is also claimed that the true Indian name is_Tahoma_ (Almost to heaven). It stands alone, nearly as high as MontBlanc, triple-pointed, and covered with snow, most grand andinaccessible-looking. 

We have a great laurel-tree beside our house. It looks so Southern, itis strange to see it among the firs. It has a dark outer bark, and asoft inner skin; both of which are stripped away by the tree in growing, and the trunk and branches are left bare and flesh-colored. It hasglossy evergreen leaves, and bright red berries, that look very cheerfulin contrast with the snow. 

 APRIL 6, 1866. 

The frogs have begun to sing in the marsh, and the Indians in theircamps. How well their voices chime together! All the bright autumn days, we used to listen to the Indians at sunset; but after that, we heard nosound of them for several months. They sympathize too much with Natureto sing in the winter. Now the warm, soft air inspires them anew. Allthrough the cold and rainy months, as I looked out from my window, therewas always the little black figure in the canoe, as free and asunembarrassed by any superfluities as the birds that circled around it. It seemed a mistake, when the most severe weather came, for them to havemade no preparation whatever to meet it. It drove the women into ourhouses, with their little bundles of "fire-sticks" (pitch-wood) to sell. I offered one of them a pair of shoes; but she pointed to the snow, andsaid it was "hot, " and that it would make her feet too cold to wearshoes. 

We were told, before we came here, that this climate was like that ofAsia; and now an Asian flower has come to confirm it. The marshes areall gay with it: it is the golden club. The botany calls it theOrontium, because it grows on the banks of the Orontes; and it is veryAsian-looking. It has a great wrapper, like the rich yellow silk inwhich the Japanese brought their presents to President Lincoln. It is arelation to the calla-lily, but is larger. 

The very last day of winter, as if they could not possibly wait a daylonger, great flocks of meadow-larks came, and settled down on the fieldnext to us. They are about as large as robins, and have a braided workof black-and-gold to trim off their wings, and a broad black collar ontheir orange breasts. They appear to have a very agreeable consciousnessof being in the finest possible condition. The dear old robins lookrather faded beside them. With them came the crimson-headed linnets. Intrying to identify these little birds from our books, I found that greatconfusion had prevailed in regard to them, because their nuptial plumagediffers so much from their ordinary dress. These darlings blushed allover with life and joy, which told me their secret. 

 APRIL 30, 1866. 

In the winter we were told, that, when the spring came fully on, theIndians would have the "_Red Tamáhnous_, " which means "love. " A little, gray old woman appeared yesterday morning at our door, with her cheeksall aglow, as if her young blood had returned. Besides the vermilionlavishly displayed on her face, the crease at the parting of her hairwas painted the same color. Every article of clothing she had on wasbright and new. I looked out, and saw that no Indian had on any thingbut red. Even old blind Charley, whom we had never seen in any thing buta black blanket, appeared in a new one of scarlet. But I was mosttouched by the change in this woman, because she is, I suppose, theoldest creature that I ever looked at. Nothing but a primeval rock everseemed to me so old; and when we had seen her before, she was like amummy generally in her clothing. These most ancient creatures have theirlittle stiff legs covered with a kind of blue cloth, sewed close roundthem, just like the mummy-wrappings I have seen at Barnum's Museum. Shehas more vivacity and animation than any one else I ever saw. If anybodyhas a right to bright cheeks, she has. I like the Indians' paintingthemselves, for in them it is quite a different thing from what it is infashionable ladies. They do it to show how they feel, not commonlyexpressing their emotions in words. 

This woman, who is a Pend d'Oreille, has the most extraordinary power ofmodulation in her voice. The Indians, by prolonging the sound of words, add to their force, and vary their meaning; so that the same wordsignifies more or less, according as it is spoken quickly or slowly. Shehas such a searching voice, especially when she is attempting to convictme of any subterfuge or evasion, that I have to yield to her at once. The Indians have no word, as far as I can learn, for "busy. " So, when Icannot entertain her, I have to make the nearest approach I can to thetruth, and tell her I am sick, or something of that kind; but nothingavails, with her, short of the absolute truth. She is so very fantasticand entertaining, that I should cultivate her acquaintance more, if itwere not for this deficiency in the language, which makes it impossibleto convey the idea to her when I want to get rid of her. As old as sheis, she still carries home the great sacks of flour--a hundredpounds--on her back, superintends the salmon-fishery for the family, takes care of the _tenas men_ (children), and looks after affairs ingeneral. 

 MAY 10, 1866. 

We walked out to Lake Union, and found an Indian and his wife living ina tree. The most primitive of the Indians, the old gray ones, who lookthe most interesting, do not commonly speak the Chinook at all, or haveany intercourse with the whites. On the way there, we found the peculiarrose that grows only on the borders of the fir-forest, the wild whitehoneysuckle, and the glossy _kinni-kinnick_--the Indian tobacco. 

We saw a nest built on the edge of the lake, rising and falling with thewater, but kept in place by the stalks of shrubs about it. A great brownbird, with spotted breast, rose from it. I recognized it as thedabchick. The Indians say that this bird was once a human being, wife toan Indian with whom she quarrelled. He was transformed to the greatblue heron, and stalks about the marshes. With the remnant of herwoman's skill, she makes these curious nests, in sheltered nooks, on theedges of lakes. She dived below the water, and we peeped in at herbabies. Their floating nest was overhung by white spirea. They hadsilver breasts, and pale blue bills. I wondered that their littlebleating cry did not call her back; but, though below the water, sheseemed to know that we were near, and as long as we lingered about shewould not return. 

We are going on a long journey to the north, part of it over a deserttable-land, where for four days there will be no house, --a part of thecountry frequented by the Snake River Indians and the Nez Perces, whoare inclined to be hostile. It is near the territory of the Pendd'Oreilles. I have seen one of them, with a pretty, graceful ornament inher ear. 

 FORT COLVILLE, WASHINGTON TERRITORY, June 8, 1866. 

We travelled by steamer from Seattle to Portland, thence by a successionof steamers as far as Wallulla. We then took the stage for Walla Walla, at which point public accommodation for travel ceases. We stopped theretwo or three days, seeking a conveyance across the country to thispoint; and finally secured a wagoner, who agreed to transport us and ourluggage for a hundred dollars, the distance being two hundred miles. 

The most interesting part of the journey was the passage of theColumbia. The bar at the mouth of the river is a great hinderance to itsfree navigation; and vessels are often detained for days, and evenweeks, waiting for a favorable opportunity to cross. We waited five daysoutside in the fog, hearing all the time the deep, solemn warning of thebreakers, to keep off. Our steadfast captain, as long as he could seenothing, refused to go on, knowing well the risk, though he sent theship's boats out at times to try to get his bearings. In all that time, the fog never once lifted so that he could get the horizon-line. At theend of the fifth day, he entered in triumph, with a clear view of theriver, the grandest sight I have ever seen. The passengers seemed hardlyto dare to breathe till we were over the bar. Some of them had witnesseda frightful wreck there a few years before, when, after a similarwaiting in the fog for nearly a week, a vessel attempted to enter theriver, and struck on the bar. She was seen for two days from Astoria, but the water was so rough that no life-boat could reach her. Thepassengers embarked on rafts, but were swept off by the sea. 

As we passed into the river, I sat on deck, looking about. All at once Ifelt a heavy thump on my back, and a wave broke over my head, --a prettyrough greeting from the sea. It seems that we slightly grounded, butwere off in an instant. 

I had long looked forward to the wonderful experience of seeing thisimmense river, seven miles broad, rolling seaward, and the great line ofbreakers at the bar; but no one can realize, without actually seeing it, how much its grandeur is enhanced by the surroundings of interminableforest, and the magnificence of its snow-mountains. The character of theriver itself is in accordance with every thing about it, especiallywhere it breaks through the Cascade Mountains in four miles of rapids;and still higher up, shut between basaltic walls, rushes with deafeningroar through the narrow passage of the Dalles, where it is compressedinto one-eighth of its width. For a long time I could not receive anyother sensation, nor admit any other thought, but of its terrificstrength. The Indians say that in former times the river flowed smoothlywhere are now the whirling rapids of the Cascades, but that a landslidefrom the banks dammed up the stream, and produced this great change. Howmany generations have repeated the account of this wonderful occurrence, from one to another, to bring it down to our times! This is now acceptedby scientific men as undoubtedly the fact. 

It is hard to conceive the idea of the geologists, that this is only theremnant of a vastly greater Columbia, that formerly occupied not onlyits present bed, but other channels, now abandoned, including the GrandeCoulée, between whose immense walls it poured a current ten miles broadat the mouth; and that the water was at some time one or two thousandfeet above the present level of the river, as shown by the terracesalong its banks, and fragments of drift caught in fissures of the rock. The Grande Coulée is like an immense roofless ruin, extending north andsouth for fifty miles. Strange forms of rock are scattered over thegreat bare plain. To the Indians, it is the home of evil spirits. Theysay there are rumblings in the earth, and that the rocks are hot, andsmoke. Thunder and lightning, so rare elsewhere on the western coast, are here more common. The evidences of volcanic action are everywhereapparent, --in the huge masses and curious columns of basaltic andtrap-rock, the lava-beds through which the rivers have found their way, and the powdery alkaline soil. The marks of glaciers are also asdistinct in the bowlders, and the scooping-out of the beds of lakes. Thegravelly prairies between the Columbia and Puget Sound, and theSnoqualmie, Steilaguamish, and other flats, show that the Sound wasformerly of much more extensive proportions than at present. 

The Columbia was first discovered on the 15th of August, 1775, by BrunoHeceta, a Spanish explorer, who found an opening in the coast, fromwhich rushed so strong a current as to prevent his entering. Heconcluded that it was the mouth of some great river, or possibly theStraits of Fuca, which might have been erroneously marked on his chart. As this was the anniversary of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary, henamed the opening _Enseñada de Asuncion_ (Assumption Inlet); and it wasafterwards called, in the charts published in Mexico, _Enseñada deHeceta_, and _Rio de San Roque_. He gave to the point on the north sidethe name of Cape _San Roque_; and, to that on the south, Cape _Frondoso_(Leafy Cape). 

Meares, in 1788, gave the name of Cape Disappointment to the northernpoint, owing to his not being able to make the entrance of the river, and the mouth he called Deception Bay, and asserted that there was nosuch river as the St. Roc, as laid down in the Spanish charts. 

Vancouver also, when exploring the Pacific coast in 1792, passed by thisgreat stream, without suspecting that there was a river of anyimportance there. He noticed the line of breakers, and concluded, that, if there was any river, it must be unnavigable, from shoals and reefs. He had made up his mind, that all the streams flowing into the Pacificbetween the fortieth and forty-eighth parallels of latitude were merebrooks, insufficient for vessels to navigate, and not worthy hisattention. 

Capt. Grey, who reached the place shortly after, with keener observationand deeper in-sight, saw the indications of a great river there, andafter lying outside for nine days, waiting a favorable opportunity toenter, succeeded in doing so on the 11th of May, 1792, being the firstto accomplish that feat, and explored the lower portion of it. He gaveto the river and to the southern point the names they now bear. 

Vancouver failed in the same way to discover the Fraser, the great riverof British Columbia, although he actually entered the delta of theriver, and sailed about among the sand-banks, naming one of themSturgeon Bank; while the Spanish explorers, who were there about thesame time, recognized the fact of its existence far out at sea, in theirregular currents, the sand-banks, the drift of trees and logs, andalso in the depression in the Cascade Mountains, which marks itschannel. 

In 1805 Lewis and Clarke, who reached the mouth of the Columbia thatyear, found that the Indians called the river "_Shocatilcum_" (friendlywater). 

Tourists have not yet discovered what a wonderful country this is forsight-seeing, fortunately for us. On our passage up the Columbia, afterleaving Portland, we sat for two or three days, almost alone, on thedeck of the steamer, with nothing to break the silence but the deepbreathing of the boat, which seemed like its own appreciation of it; andsailed past the great promontories, some of them a thousand feet high, and watched the slender silver streams that fall from the rocks, andfelt that we were in a new world, --new to us, but older and grander thanany thing we had ever seen. 

We were shown a high, isolated rock, rising far above the water, onwhich was a scaffolding, where, for many generations, the Indians haddeposited their dead. They were wrapped in skins, tied with cords ofgrass and bark, and laid on mats. Their most precious possessions wereplaced beside them, first made unserviceable for the living, to securetheir remaining undisturbed. The bodies were always laid with the headtoward the west, because the _memaloose illahie_ (land of the dead) laythat way. 

In the instincts of children and of uncivilized people, there seemssomething to trust. This idea of Heaven's lying toward the west appearsto have been held by the New-England Indians also, and is expressed inWhittier's lines, --

 "O mighty Sowanna! Thy gateways unfold, From thy wigwam of sunset Lift curtains of gold! Take home the poor spirit whose journey is o'er-- _Mat wonck kunna-monee!_ We see thee no more!"

The Chinese have also the "peaceful land in the west, " lying far beyondthe visible universe. 

Farther up the river, we passed some abandoned diggings, where littlecolonies of patient, toilsome Chinamen had established themselves, andwere washing and sifting the earth discarded by previous miners; making, we were told, on the average, two or three cents to the pan. TheChinaman regularly pays, as a foreigner (and is almost the onlyforeigner who does so), his mining-license tax to the State. He neverseeks to interfere with rich claims, and patiently submits to beingdriven away from any neglected spot he may have chosen if a white mantakes a fancy to it. 

We stopped one night at Umatilla City, a cheerless little settlement atthe junction of the Umatilla River with the Columbia, in the midst of ableak, dreary waste of sand and sage-brush, without a sign of a tree inany direction, a perfect whirlwind blowing all the time. What couldinduce people to live there, I could not imagine. 

We stopped a day or two at Walla Walla, where one of the early forts wasestablished; the post having been transferred from Wallula, where it wascalled Fort "Nez Perces, " from the Indians in that vicinity, who wore intheir noses a small white shell, like the fluke of an anchor. 

The journey from Walla Walla to Fort Colville occupied eleven days andnights, during which time we did not take a meal in a house, nor sleepin a bed. It was cold, rainy, and windy, a good deal of the time, but weenjoyed it notwithstanding. To wake up in the clear air, with thebright sky above us, when it was pleasant; and to reach at night thelittle oases of willows and birches and running streams where wecamped, --was enough to repay us for a good deal of discomfort. At one ofthe camping-grounds, --Cow Creek, --a beautiful bird sang all night; itsounded like bubbling water. 

For several days we saw only great sleepy-looking hills, stretching inendless succession, as far as the horizon extended, from morning tillnight, as if a billowy ocean had been suddenly transfixed in the midstof its motion. They have only thin vegetation on them, --not enough todisturb or conceal the beautiful forms, the curves which the waves leaveon the hills they deposit. Their colors are very subdued, --pale salmonfrom the dead grass, or light green like a thin veil, with the red earthshowing dimly through. There is no change in looking at them, but fromlight to shadow, as the clouds move over them. 

We travelled, for a long distance, over sage-brush and alkali plains. Inthis part of the country, sage-brush is a synonym for any thing that isworthless. We found the little woody twigs of it available for ourcamping-fires; but its amazing toughness reminded me of a story told byMr. Boller, in his book "Among the Indians. " He was taking a band ofmustang half-breeds from California to Montana, when, to his surprise, one of the mares presented him with a foal. Supposing it would beimpossible for it to keep up with the party, he took out his revolver toshoot it. Twice he raised it, but the little fellow trotted along socheerily that his heart failed him, and he returned it to the holster. The colt swam creeks breast-high for the horses, and travelled on withsublime indifference to every thing but the gratification of its keenlittle appetite. He resolved to take it through, thinking it would neverdo to destroy an animal of so much pluck, and named it "Sage-brush. " Itswam every stream, flinched from nothing, and arrived in good order inMontana, a distance of three hundred miles, having travelled every dayfrom the time it was half an hour old. Its name was most appropriate, asan illustration of the character of the plant. 

Intermixed with the wastes of sage-brush were patches of bunch-grass. The horses sniffed it with delight as luxuriant pasturage. It is curiousto see how nature here acts in the interest of civilization. The oldsettlers told us that many acres formerly covered with sage-brush werenow all bunch-grass. It is a peculiarity of the sage-brush, that firewill not spread in it. The bush which is fired will burn to the ground, but the next will not catch from it. The grass steals in among thesage-brush; and, when that is burned, it carries the fire from one bushto another. Although the grass itself is consumed, the roots strikedeep; and it springs up anew, overrunning the dead sage-brush. 

Then we came to the most barren country I ever saw, --nothing but broken, rusty, worm-eaten looking rocks, where the rattlesnakes live. But heregrew the most beautiful flower, peach-blossom color. It just thrust itshead out of the earth, and the long pink buds stretched themselves outover the dingy bits of rock; and that was all there was of it. We tooksome of the roots, which are bulbous, and shall try to furnish them withsufficient hardships to make them grow. 

One night, while in this region, we camped on a hill where the cayotescame up and cried round us, which made it seem quite wild. 

Wherever there was any soil, there was another little plant that wasvery pretty to notice, both for itself, and because of its adaptation tothe climate in the dry season. It was coated with a delicate fur; andlong after the hot sun was up, and when every thing else was dry, greatdiamonds of dew glistened in its soft hair. We saw a great many plantsof the lupine family, in every variety of shade, from crimson, blue, andpurple, to white. 

On the last days we had all the time before us dark mountains, with snowon their summits, and troops of trees on their sides, and ravines withsun-lighted mists travelling through them. It was like getting into aninhabited country, to reach the trees again: they were almost like humanbeings, after what we had seen. The Spokane River divides the greattreeless plain on the south from the timbered mountainous country to thenorth. 

During this journey, we came upon various little bands of Indians, ofdifferent tribes. We noticed the superiority of the "stick" Indians(those who live in the woods) over those who live by the sea. The formerhave herds of horses, and hunt for their living. The Indians who live byfishing are of tamer natures, poor and degraded, compared to those ofthe interior. 

We saw at Walla Walla some of the Klickatats, from the mountains. Theywere very bright and animated in their appearance, and wore fringeddresses and ornamented leggings, and moccasins of buffalo-skin. Theywere mounted upon fancy-colored and spotted horses, which they prizeabove all others. They presented such a striking contrast to the lazyClalams on the Sound, --who used to say to us in reply to our inquiriesas to their occupations and designs, "_Cultus nannitsh, cultusmitlight_" (look about and do nothing), as if that were their wholebusiness all day long, --that I was reminded of what some of the earlyexplorers said, that no two nations of Europe differed more widely fromeach other than the different tribes of Indians. 

One day we met an Spokane Indian, of very striking appearance, with aface like Dante's, but with a happier expression. He was most becominglyclothed in white blankets, compactly folded about him, with two or threenarrow red stripes across his bonnet of the same material, which had ared peaked border, completely encircling the face, like an Irishwoman'snight-cap, or rather day-cap, but much more picturesque. He was scouringthe hills and plains between the Snake and Spokane Rivers, mounted on agay little pony, in search of stolen horses. Upon being questioned as tohis abiding-place, he informed us that he did not live anywhere. 

We saw some representatives of another tribe of Indians, the Snakes. They call themselves Shoshones, which means only "inland Indians. " Thewhite people called them Snakes, probably because of their marvellouspower of eluding pursuit, by crawling off in the long grass, or divingin the water. They seemed more wild and agile than any we had seen. TheSnakes were a very numerous tribe when the traders first came amongthem. When questioned as to their number, by the agents of "The GreatWhite Chief, " they said, "It is the same as the stars in the sky. " Theywere a proud, independent people, living mostly on the plains, huntingthe buffalo. They kept no canoes; depending only on temporary rafts ofbulrushes or willows, if not convenient to ford or swim across thestreams. They were the only Indians of this part of the country who hadany knowledge of working in clay, --their necessities obliging them tomake rude jugs in which to carry water across the bare plains. Themountain Snakes were outlaws, enemies to all other tribes. They lived inbands, in rocky caverns; and were said to have a wonderful power ofimitating all sounds of nature, from the singing of birds to the howlingof wolves, --by this means diverting attention from themselves, andescaping detection in their roving, predatory expeditions. 

When we reached the ferry on the Snake River, we saw some Indiansswimming their horses across. They were a bunting-party of Spokanes andNez Perces. Strapped on to one of the horses, with a roll of blankets, was a Nez Perces baby. This infant, though apparently not over a yearand a half old, sat erect, grasping the reins, with as spirited andfearless a look as an old warrior's. 

At one of the portages, we saw some graves of chiefs; the bodiescarefully laid in east-and-west lines, and the opening of the lodgebuilt over them was toward the sunrise. On a frame near the lodge werestretched the hides of their horses, sacrificed to accompany them toanother world. The missionaries congratulate themselves that thesebarbarous ceremonies are no longer observed, that the Indian is weanedfrom his idea of the happy hunting-ground, and the sacrilegious thoughtof ever meeting his horse again is eradicated from his mind. I thoughtwith satisfaction that the missionary really knows no more about thefuture than the Indian, who seems ill adapted to the conventional ideaof heaven. For my part, I prefer to think of him, in the unknown future, as retaining something of his earthly wildness and freedom, rather thanas a white-robed saint, singing psalms, and playing on a harp. 

Between the Snake and the Spokane are several beautiful lakes. We met ahunter coming from one of them, who had shot a white swan. He said hefound it circling round and round its dead mate, in so much distressthat he thought it was a kindness to kill it. 

We passed two great smoking mounds, and, on alighting to investigate, found that we were in the midst of a kamas-field, where a great manyIndian women and children were busy digging the root, and roasting it inthe earth. 

Some of the old women wore the fringed skirt, made of cloth spun andwoven from the soft inner bark of the young cedar, which they used towear before blankets were introduced. 

The Indians eat other roots beside the kamas, but that is the one onwhich they chiefly depend. As soon as the snow is off the ground, theybegin to search for a little bulbous root they call the _pohpoh_. Itlooks like a small onion, and has a dry, spicy taste. In May they getthe _spatlam_, or bitter-root. This is a delicate white root, thatdissolves in boiling, and forms a bitter jelly. The Bitter Root Riverand Mountains get their name from this plant. In June comes the kamas. It looks like a little hyacinth-bulb, and when roasted is as nice as achestnut. We have seen it in blossom, when its pale-blue flowerscovered the fields so closely that, at a little distance, we took it fora lake. One of the women, seeing our curiosity as we watched them, drewsome of the bulbs out of the earth ovens, and handed them to us. As wetasted them, they explained that they were not ready to eat; that itwould take two or three days to roast them sufficiently. This they liveupon for two or three months; with the salmon, it is their chief articleof food. The women stop at the kamas-grounds, while the men go to thefishing-stations. 

In August they gather the choke-berry and service-berry, to dry for thewinter. When they are reduced to great extremity for food, theysometimes boil and eat the moss and lichens on the trees, which the deereats. Most of the work of digging the roots, and picking the berries, falls upon the women. On this account, a Spokane man in marrying joinsthe tribe of his wife, instead of her joining his tribe; thinking, if hetakes her away from the places where she has been accustomed to find herroots and berries, she may not succeed, in a new place, in discoveringthem. 

We saw, in the vicinity of the Pelouse River, some remarkable basalticrocks, that looked like buildings with columns and turrets andbastions. Some of them were like my idea of the great kings' tombs ofthe Egyptians. The colors on them were often very Egyptian-like, --brightsulphur-yellow, and brown, and sometimes orange and darkred, --incrustations of lichen and weather-staining. We saw, also, wallsof pentagonal columns of rock, packed closely together. Where thePelouse enters the Snake River, are immense ledges of square blocks. When we camped there, and I lay down beneath them at night, "Swedish_trappa_, a stair, " from the geological text-book, was always running inmy mind, --this black trap-rock made such great steps that led up towardsthe sky. 

We have seen here a splendid specimen of gold, which is to be sent tothe Exposition at Paris. It is granulated, and sparkles as I never sawgold before. Some one suggests that a thin film of quartz may becrystallized over it. 

Next week we hope to go up within sight of the whirlpools of Death'sRapids, a long distance above here, on the Columbia River. These rapidsare so named on account of the number of persons who have been lost inattempting to navigate them. Their names are cut into the rocks at theside of the passage; their bodies have never been found. 

IV. 

 Two Hundred Miles on the Upper Columbia. --Steamer "Forty-Nine. "--Navigation in a Cañon. --Pend d'Oreille River and Lake. --Rock Paintings. --Tributaries of the Upper Columbia. --Arrow Lakes. --Kettle Falls. --Salmon-Catching. --Salmon-Dance. --Goose-Dance. 

 FORT COLVILLE, July 20, 1866. 

We have just returned from a trip on the Columbia River, extending twohundred miles north into British Columbia, on the little steamer builtin this vicinity for the purpose of carrying passengers and supplies tothe Big Bend and other mines in the upper country. We did not get to the"Rapids of the Dead. " The boat, this time, did not complete her ordinarytrip. Some of the passengers came to the conclusion that the river wasnever intended to be navigated in places she attempted to run through. It is a very adventurous boat, called the "Forty-nine, " being the firstto cross that parallel, --the line separating Washington Territory fromBritish Columbia. The more opposition she meets with, and the morepredictions there are against her success, the more resolute she is togo through; on which account, we were kept three weeks on the way, theordinary length of the passage being four days. I was surprised, when wecame to the first of what was called the "bad water, " to see the boataim directly for it. It was much better, the captain said, to go "headon, " than to run the risk of being carried in by an eddy. I never sawany river with such a tendency to whirl and fling itself about as theUpper Columbia has. It is all eddies, in places where there is the leastshadow of a reason for it, and even where there is not; influenced, Isuppose, by the adjoining waters. Some of these whirl-pits are ten orfifteen feet deep, measured by the trees that are sucked down into them. 

The most remarkable part of the river is where it is compressed toone-sixth of its width, in passing through a mountain gorgethree-quarters of a mile long. The current is so strong there, that ittakes from four to six hours for the steamer to struggle up against it, and only one minute to come down. The men who have passed down throughit, in small boats, say that it is as if they were shot from the mouthof a cannon. 

When we reached this cañon, our real difficulties began. We attemptedto enter it in the afternoon, but met with an accident which delayed usuntil the next morning. Meanwhile the river began to rise. It goes upvery rapidly, fifty, sixty, I believe even seventy, feet, sometimes. Wewaited twelve days in the woods for it to subside. The captain cut us atrail with his axe; and we sat and looked at the great snow-fields up onthe mountains, so brilliant that the whitest clouds looked dark besidethem. The magnificence of the scenery made every one an artist, from thecaptain to the cook, who produced a very beautiful drawing of threesnow-covered peaks, which he called "The Three Sisters. "

Everybody grew very impatient; and at length, one night, the captainsaid he would try it the next morning, although he had never before beenup when the water was so high. A heavy rain came on, lasting all night, so that it seemed rather desperate to attempt going through, if theriver was too high the night before; and I could hardly believe it, whenI heard the engineer getting up the steam to start. The wildest weatherprevailed at this time, and on all important occasions. As soon as wewent on board the boat, in first starting, a violent thunder-storm cameon, lightning, hail, and rain; and a great pine-tree came crashingdown, and fell across the bow of the boat. A similar storm came againthe first time we tried to enter the cañon; and the drift it broughtdown so interfered with the steering, that it led to the accident beforementioned. On this last morning, there were most evident signs ofdisapproval all about us, --the sky perfect gloom, and the rivercontinually replenishing its resources from the pouring rain, andstrengthening itself against us. But we steamed up to the entrance ofthe cañon. Then the boat was fastened by three lines to the shore, andthe men took out a cable six hundred feet in length, which they carriedalong the steep, slippery rocks, and fastened to a great tree. One ofthem rolled down fifty feet into the water, but was caught by hiscompanions before he was whirled away. They then returned to the boat, let on all the steam, and began to wind up the cable on the capstan. With the utmost power of the men and steam, it was sometimes impossibleto see any progress. Finally, however, that line was wound up; and theboat was again secured to the bank, and the cable put out the secondtime. This part of the passage was still more difficult; and, after theline was arranged, two men were left on shore with grappling-irons tokeep it off the rocks, --a great, fine-looking one, who appeared equal toany emergency, and a little, common one, with sandy hair and alobster-colored face and neck. We watched them intently; and, as we drewnear, we saw that the line had caught on something beneath the surfaceof the water, so that they could not extricate it. The little man toiledvigorously at it, standing in the water nearly up to his head; butappeared to be feebly seconded, by the big one, who remained on therocks. It seemed as if the line would part from the strain, or the boatstrike the next moment. The mate shouted and gesticulated to them; butno voice could be heard above the raging water, and they either couldnot understand his motions, or could not do as they were directed. Theboat bore directly down upon them. Presently it seemed evident to usthat the little man must sacrifice himself for the steamer; but I didnot know how it looked to him, --people are all so precious tothemselves. He stopped a second, then flung back his cap and pole, andthrew himself under the boiling water. Up came the rope to the surface, but the man was gone. Instantly after, he scrambled up the bank; and thegreat magnificent man did nothing but clutch him on the back when hewas safely out. 

We had then wound up about two-thirds of the cable. Immediately after, this remarkable occurrence took place: The great heavy line came whollyup out of the water. A bolt flew out of the capstan, which was a signalfor the men who were at work on it to spring out of the way. The captainshouted, "Cut the rope!" but that instant the iron capstan was torn outof the deck, and jumped overboard, with the cable attached to it. I feltthankful for it, for I knew it was the only thing that could put an endto our presumptuous attempt. I had felt that this rope would be a greatsnare to us in case of accident. Three of our four rudders were broken;but the remaining one enabled us to get into an eddy that carried us toa little cove, where we stopped to repair damages sufficiently to comedown the river. 

All day, the rain had never ceased; and the river had seemed to me likesome of those Greek streams that Homer tells of, which had so muchpersonal feeling against individuals. I felt as if we were going to bepunished for an audacious attempt, instead of rewarded for what mightotherwise have been considered a brave one. When the capstandisappeared, it was just as if some great river-god, with a whiff ofhis breath, or a snap of his fingers, had tossed it contemptuouslyaside. So we turned back defeated. But there was a great deal to enjoy, when we came to think of it afterwards, and were safely out of it. Wehad seen nothing so bold and rugged before. An old Scotchman, who knowsmore about it than any one else here, had said to us before we started, "That British Columbia is such a terrible country, very little can everbe known of it. " But there was a great deal that was beautiful too. Iwas particularly struck with the manner in which the Pend d'Oreillesprings into the Columbia. Glen Ellis Fall, gliding down in itsswiftness, always seemed to me more beautiful than almost any thing elseI ever saw. But this river is more demonstrative. It springs up, andfalls again in showers of spray, and comes with great leaps out of thecañon, in a way that I cannot describe. There is in it more freedom andstrength and delight than in any thing else I ever saw. Far to thesouth-east, this stream widens into Lake Pend d'Oreille. On this lakeare the wonderful painted rocks, rising far above the water, upon which, at the height of several hundred feet, are the figures of men andanimals, which the Indians say are the work of a race that precededthem. They are afraid to approach the rocks, lest the waters should risein anger, and ingulf them. There are also hieroglyphic figures far up onthe rocks of Lake Chelan, which is supposed to have once been an arm ofthe Columbia. These paintings or picture-writings must have been madewhen the water was so high in the lakes that they could be done by menin boats. 

Most of the tributaries of the Upper Columbia are similar in characterto the main stream, --wild, unnavigable rivers, flowing through deepcañons, and full of torrents and rapids. With Nature so vigorous andunsubdued about us, all conventionalities seemed swept away; andsomething fresh and strong awoke in us, as if it had long slumbereduntil the presence of its kindred in these mountain streams called it toconsciousness, --something of the force and freedom of these wild, tireless Titans, that poured down their white floods to the sea. 

Most of these streams rise in lakes, and in some part of their coursespread again into one or more lakes; as, the Arrow Lakes of theColumbia, the Flat-head, Kootenay, Pend d'Oreille, and Coeur d'Alêne, and the beautiful string of lakes of the Okinakane, and many others. 

As we passed through the Upper Arrow Lake and Lower Arrow Lake, whichlie in British Columbia, we had some splendid views of mountain scenery. The Upper Lake is thirty-three miles long, and three in width, crystalline water, surrounded by snow-covered peaks and precipices, andforests of pine and cedar. The second is sixteen miles below the first, forty-two miles in length, and two and a half wide. Innumerable arrowswere sticking in the crevices of the rocks. Formerly every Indian whopassed deposited an arrow, --intended probably as an offering to thespirit that rules over the chase, just as the Indian medicine-man, whenhe gathers his roots, makes an offering to the earth. 

The Catholic missionaries were much surprised to find crosses erectedsometimes in lonely places, and at first supposed some other priestsmust have preceded them; but learned that they were set up by theIndians, in honor of the moon, to induce her to favor their nightlyexpeditions for robbery or the chase. 

 JULY 22, 1866. 

We have been on an excursion to Kettle Falls on the Columbia, where theriver dashes over the huge rocks in a most picturesque way. These fallswere called _La Chaudière_ by the Canadian _voyageurs_, because thepool below looks like a great boiling caldron. We noticed that limestonethere replaced the black basalt, of which we had seen so much, the waterfalling over a tabular bed of white marble. 

There we saw some Indians engaged in spearing salmon, as the fish wereattempting to leap the falls, in their passage up the stream to theirbreeding-places. They do not always succeed in passing the falls attheir first leap, sometimes falling back two or three times. Many ofthem are dashed on the rocks at the Cascades, and at other points wherethe river presents obstacles to their progress. An immense number becomevictims to the nets of the fishermen, and the traps and spears of theIndians; and those that escape these dangers, and reach the upperwaters, are very much bruised and battered, --"spent salmon" they arecalled. After their long journey of six or seven hundred miles from thesea, it seems as if they would be filled with despair at the sight ofthese boiling cataracts. They refuse bait on the way, apparently neverstopping for food, from the time they leave the salt water. Often withfins and tails so worn down as to be almost useless, their noses worn tothe bone, their eyes sunken, sometimes wholly extinguished, theystruggle on to the last gasp, to ascend the streams to their sources. Incalm weather they swim near the surface, and close to the shore, toavoid the strong current; and they are so possessed with this onepurpose, and so regardless of every thing about them, that the Indianscatch hundreds of them by merely slipping the gaff-hook under theirbodies, and lifting them out of the water, --selecting the best topreserve for food, and throwing aside those that they consider asworthless. These pale, emaciated creatures, I looked at with thegreatest interest. How strong is the impulse that carries them through, in spite of these almost insurmountable obstacles! It is beyond ourknowledge, why, in coming in from the sea, they pass certain streams toenter others; but this they are known to do, so perfectly do theyunderstand the mysterious direction given them. 

The early explorers witnessed many ceremonies among the Indians not nowobserved by them; as, the salmon-dance, to celebrate the taking of thefirst salmon in the river. When the earliest spring salmon was caught inthe Columbia, the Indians were extremely particular in their dealingswith it. No white man could obtain it at any price, lest, by opening itwith a knife instead of a stone, he should drive all following salmonfrom the river. Certain parts must be eaten with the rising, and otherswith the falling, tide; and many other minute regulations carefullyobserved. After the salmon-berry ripened, they relaxed their vigilance, feeling that by that time the influx was secure. 

The Gros Ventres celebrated the goose-dance, to remind the wild geese, as they left in the autumn, that they had had good food all summer, andmust come back in the spring. This dance was performed by women, eachone carrying a bunch of long seed-grass, the favorite food of the wildgoose. They danced to the sound of the drum, circling about withshuffling steps. 

V. 

 Old Fort Colville. --Angus McDonald and his Indian Family. --Canadian _Voyageurs_. --Father Joseph. --Hardships of the Early Missionaries. --The Coeurs d'Alêne and their Superstitions. --The Catholic Ladder. --Sisters of Notre Dame. --Skill of the Missionaries in instructing the Indians. --Father de Smet and the Blackfeet. --A Native Dance. --Spokanes. --Exclusiveness of the Coeurs d'Alêne. --Battle of Four Lakes. --The Yakima Chief and the Road-Makers. 

 FORT COLVILLE, July 25, 1866. 

We have been making a little visit to Old Fort Colville, one of theHudson Bay stations, kept by Angus McDonald, an old Scotchman, who hasbeen there for a great many years. He is an educated gentleman, of agreat deal of character and intelligence; and his wife is an Indianwoman, who cannot live more than half the year in the house, and has towander about, the rest of it, with her _tilicums_ (relations andfriends). 

It was interesting to see how this cultivated man, accustomed to theworld as he had been, had adapted himself to life in this solitary spoton the frontier, with his Indian children for his only companions. Hehas about ten. In some of them the Scotch blood predominated, but inmost the Indian blood was more apparent. The oldest son, a grown man, was a very dark Indian, decorated with wampum. Christine, the oldestdaughter, resembled her father most. She kept house for him, because, asshe explained to us, her mother could not be much in-doors. She spoke, too, of disliking to be confined. I asked her where she liked best tobe; and she said, with the Blackfeet Indians, because they had theprettiest dances, and could do such beautiful bead-work; and describedtheir working on the softened skins of elk, deer, and antelope, makingdresses for chiefs and warriors. We had a sumptuous meal ofRocky-Mountain trout, buffalo-tongues, and pemmican. Although Christinewas, in some respects, quite a civilized young lady, she occasionallybetrayed her innocence of conventionalities, as when she came andwhispered to me, before the meal was announced, what the chief disheswere to be. She mentioned, as one of the delicacies of the Blackfeet, berries boiled in buffalo-blood. 

Mr. McDonald told us many stories about the Canadian _voyageurs_employed by the Hudson Bay Company, illustrating their power ofendurance and their elastic temperament. One of their men, he said, waslost for thirty-five days in the woods, and finally discovered by theIndians, crawling on his hands and feet towards a brook, nearlyexhausted, but still keeping up his courage. He asked us if we couldconjecture how he had kept alive all that time, with no means whatever, outside of himself, to procure food. He had actually succeeded in makinga fine net from his own hair, with which he caught small fishes, devouring them raw, accompanied by a little grass or moss; not daring toeat any roots or berries, lest they might be poisonous, as the countrywas new to him. These Canadians are as brown as Indians, from theirconstant exposure to the sun and wind, and have adapted themselvescompletely to Indian ways, wearing a blanket _capote_, leather trousers, moccasins, and a fur cap, with a bright sash or girdle to hold a knifeand a tobacco-pouch. Their half-breed children are generally excellentcanoe-men and hunters, with the vivacity of the father, and theendurance of the mother's race. Marcel Bernier, one of these FrenchCanadians, was one of the early settlers in the Cowlitz Valley; and wehave travelled with him between the Columbia River and Puget Sound, andonce stopped at his house over night. It was quite different from thecommon Indian houses; having pillow-cases trimmed with ruffles and lace, and great bear-skin mats on the door. The baby slept in a little hammockswung from the ceiling. The family were devoted Catholics, and sungmatins and vespers, and had pictures and images of saints about theroom. We were quite impressed by the advance in civilization which thelittle admixture of French blood had brought. 

Christine took us to see an ancient Indian woman, who remembers thecountry when there were no white people in it. She has the fifthgeneration of her children about her. She is wholly blind, her eyesmostly closed, only little bloodshot traces of them left. She satserenely in the sunshine, hollowing out a little canoe of pine-bark forthe youngest, two little girls who swam in the arm of the river beforethe tent-door. 

We went with Christine also up on the bluff to see Father Joseph, aCatholic priest, who represented to me a new class of men, whom I hadknown before only in books. His eyes were as clear blue as Emerson'sideal ones, that tell the truth; and I knew he meant it, when heanswered a question I asked him, in a way that surprised me, and which Ishould have taken, in some men, for cant. I asked him if it was notever solitary there; and he said, "It is enough like my own home[Switzerland] for that, but all countries are alike to me. We have nohome here below. " For twenty-five years he has lived on the top of thathill, with only miserable Indians around him, who could repay him verylittle for all his efforts. In the Indian war, he was supposed to be sostrongly on the side of the Indians, that the government agent, as Ifind by the printed report, recommended his removal; although headmitted that it was hard to say any thing against a man who had madesuch unbounded sacrifices for what he considered the good of theIndians. He had books in all languages on his shelves, and was veryintelligent and courteous. 

He described the condition of the country when the first little band ofJesuits, of whom he was one, entered upon the Oregon mission, --Oregonthen extending east as far as the Rocky Mountains. They had often totravel through dark forests, into which the daylight never entered, and, axe in hand, make their own paths through the wilderness, sometimescrawling on all-fours through labyrinths of fallen trees, fording riverswhere the water reached to their shoulders, travelling afterwards intheir wet clothes, with swollen limbs, and moccasins soaked in bloodfrom laceration of their feet by the thorns of the prickly pear, andlying down at night on their beds of brushwood, wrapped in theirbuffalo-robes. The Indians were full of curiosity to know what they werein search of, and listened with great interest when they attempted totalk with them. The first group that Father Joseph gathered about himsat all night to hear him, although they had come from hard labor ofhunting and fishing, and digging roots. He said, that, however degradedthey were, they were all eager to find some power superior to man. 

The tribe among whom he first established himself--the Coeursd'Alêne--were renowned among all the tribes for their belief in sorcery;and he experienced great difficulty in making an impression upon them, from the opposition of the medicine-men (jugglers). Among this tribe hefound two relics held in great esteem, of which the Indians gave himthis account:--

They said that the first white man they ever saw wore a spotted-calicoshirt--which to them appeared like the small-pox--and a great whitecomforter. They thought the spotted shirt was the Great Manitou himself, the master of the alarming disease that swept them off in such vastnumbers, and that the white comforter was the Manitou of the snow; that, if they could only secure and worship them, the small-pox would bebanished, and abundant snows would drive the buffalo down from themountains. The white man agreed to give them up, receiving in exchangeseveral of their best horses; and for many years these two Manitous werecarried in solemn procession to a hill consecrated to superstitiousrites, laid reverently on the grass, and the great medicine-pipe (whichis offered to the earth, the sun, and the water) was presented to them;the whole band singing, dancing, and howling around them. 

Father Joseph treated the Indians altogether as children, and devised asystem of object-teaching, making little images representing what theywere to shun, and what to seek, to which he pointed in instructing them. He considered it a miracle, that they yielded their hearts to histeaching; but it seemed to me, that if the good priest's gentle ways andentire devotion to their welfare had produced no effect, it would havebeen as contradictory to all the laws of nature as any miracle could be. While instructing some savages from Puget Sound, he said the idea cameinto the mind of one of the priests, to represent by a ladder, which hemade on paper, the various truths and mysteries of religion, in theirchronological order. This proved vastly beneficial in instructing them. It was called the "Catholic ladder, " and disseminated widely among theIndians; their progress in religion being measured by their knowledge ofthis ladder. At the same time that he sent the ladder among them, hesent also roots and seeds and agricultural tools. I could hardly repressa smile at seeing that he spoke with the same enthusiasm of theirsuccess with the beans and potatoes, as with the ladder. The truth is, that he had deeply at heart the good of these, his "wild children of theforest, " as he always called them. It was quite touching to him, hesaid, to see how ready they were to believe that God took charge ofearthly things as well as of heavenly. 

One of his associates in the early missions was a Belgian priest, whosejournal he showed us. He brought over, to aid in the work, six sistersof Notre Dame, in 1844. The vessel which brought them to the Pacificcoast stopped at Valparaiso and Lima, to inquire how to enter theColumbia River. Not receiving any satisfactory information, they sailednorth till they reached the forty-sixth degree of latitude. Then theyexplored for several days, and at length saw a sail coming out of whatappeared to be the mouth of a river. They immediately sent an officer tofind out from this vessel how to enter; but, as he did not return, theywere obliged to approach alone the "vast and fearful mouth of theriver, " and soon found themselves in the terrible southern channel, intowhich, they were assured afterwards, no vessel had ever sailed before. The commander of the fort at Astoria had endeavored, by hoisting flags, by great signal-fires, and guns, to warn them of their danger. They sawthe signals, but did not suspect their intention. They sailed two milesamidst fearful breakers. When at length they reached stiller water, acanoe approached them, containing an American man and some ClatsopIndians. The white man told them he would have come sooner to their aid, but the Indians refused to brave the danger; and said that he expectedevery moment to see the vessel dashed into a thousand pieces. TheIndians, seeing it ride triumphantly over the dreadful bar, consideredit under the special guidance of the Great Spirit, and greeted it withwild screams of delight. This was the introduction of the serene sistersto their field of labor. My idea of the sisters generally had been ofpale, sad beings, whose most appropriate place was by the side ofdeath-beds. These sisters of Notre Dame were brisk, energetic women, oflively temperaments. Finding the building which was preparing for themnot yet provided with doors and windows, from the scarcity of mechanics, they themselves set about planing, glazing, and painting, to make everything neat and comfortable. Wilkes, in his account of his exploringexpedition, speaks regretfully of the poor appearance the Protestantmissions presented, when compared with those of the Catholics; therebeing among the former an unthrifty, dilapidated look, and the Indianshe saw there appeared to be employed only as servants. 

The Catholics took pains to make all their ceremonies as imposing ascircumstances would permit; making free use of musketry, bright colors, and singing, --things most attractive to an Indian, --remarking often, "Noise is essential to the Indian's enjoyment, " and, "Without singing, the best instruction is of little value. " They showed the Indians thatthey regarded the comfort and good of their bodies, as well as of theirsouls; giving them at Easter a great feast of potatoes, parsneps, turnips, beets, beans, and pease, to impress upon them the advantages ofcivilization, and taking pains that the requirements of religion shouldnot interfere with the fishery or the chase. All the good customs andpractices already established among them, they confirmed and approved, and found much to sympathize with in the Indians. The suavity anddignified simplicity of the chiefs particularly pleased them, and therelation of the chief to the people, --they consulting him in regard toevery public or private undertaking, as when about to take a journey, orwhen entering upon marriage; he regulating the gathering of roots andberries, the hunting and fishing, and the division of spoils. Thepriests said of the chief, "He speaks calmly, but never in vain. " Theyadmired the self-control of the Indians, who never showed any impatiencewhen misfortunes befell them; and said, that, the farther theypenetrated into the wilderness, the better Indians they found. They wereespecially pleased with those about the sources of the Columbia, andsaid of their converts in that region, "If it be true that the prayer ofhim who possesses the innocence, the simplicity, and the faith of achild, pierces the clouds, then will the prayers of these dear childrenof the forest reach the ear of Heaven. " They were interested in thedifferent views of the future life held by the different tribes. Tothose who lived by woods and waters, heaven was a country of lakes, streams, and forests; but the Blackfoot heaven was of great sandhills, stretching far and wide, abounding in game. 

They devoted themselves with great zeal to reconciling hostile tribes, particularly the Blackfeet and Flat-heads. All the tribes feared theBlackfeet, especially that terrible sub-tribe called the "BloodIndians. " The Snakes, too, were a common enemy to all the river-tribes. Father De Smet, the Belgian priest, with great intrepidity started forthe Blackfoot country, although receiving numerous warnings of the riskhe incurred. He encamped in the heart of their country. One of theirchiefs sought him out, and took a fancy to the fearless old man atsight, embracing him in savage fashion, "rough but cordial. " This chiefwas ornamented from head to foot with eagle-feathers, and dressed inblue as a mark of distinction. With this powerful friend, he immediatelygained a footing among them. He conducted towards them with great wisdomand kindness, interfering as little as possible with their old customs. After he had made many converts among them, they asked him, on one ofthe great days of the Church, if he would like to see them manifesttheir joy in their own way, --by painting, singing, and dancing; towhich he gave courteous assent. The dance was performed wholly by womenand children, although in the dress of warriors. Some of them carriedarms, others only green boughs. All took part in it, from the toddlinginfant to the ancient grandam whose feeble limbs required the aid of astaff. They carried caskets of plumes, which nodded in harmony withtheir movements, and increased the graceful effect. There was alsojingling of bells, and drums beaten by the men who surrounded them, andjoined in the songs. To break the monotony, occasionally a suddenpiercing scream was added. If the dance languished, haranguers and thosemost skilful in grimaces came to its aid. The movement consisted of alittle jump, more or less lively according to the beat of the drum. Itwas danced on a beautiful green plain, under a cluster of pines. All theIndians climbed the trees, or sat round on their horses, to see it. 

The missionaries secured some of their readiest converts among theSpokanes (children of the sun), who lived mostly on a great open plain. Instead of being crafty and reserved, like most of the tribes aboutthem, they were free and genial. They welcomed the earliest explorers, and lived on friendly terms with the settlers. They were moresusceptible to civilization and improvement than most of the otherIndians. 

Father De Smet was enthusiastic in his enjoyment of the forests and themountains; speaking often of the "skyward palaces and holy towers" amongthe hills, "the immortal pine, " the "rock-hung flower, " the "fantasticgrace of the winding rivers. " The desert country through which hetravelled, and of which we also saw something in coming to this place, he called "a little Arabia shut in by stern, Heaven-built walls ofrock. " In the narrow valleys at the foot of the Cascade Mountains, hefound magnificent groves of rhododendrons, thousands of them together, fifteen or twenty feet high, --green arches formed underneath by theirintertwined branches; above, bouquets of splendid flowers, shading fromdeepest crimson to pure white. 

He mourned very much over the superstitions of the Indians; but said, nevertheless, that an attack of severe illness, which he suffered afterone of his journeys, was no doubt sent as a punishment for his toocarnal admiration of nature. 

 * * * * *

While we were talking with Father Joseph, and looking over the journal, a messenger rode up to the door, and told him that _Tenas Marie_ (LittleMary) was dying. The Indian agent, who stood by, said, "It is not muchof a loss; she is a worthless creature. " Father Joseph turned to him ina most dignified way, and said, "It is a human being;" and then toChristine, and asked if she would lend him a horse, she having a wholeherd at command. Presently he started off for a whole night's ride. Ithought, if I were Little Mary, after my bad life, when I must enterinto account for it, I should be a good deal cheered and supported tosee his kind eyes, and hear his firm voice directing me at the last. 

The Coeurs d'Alêne (pointed hearts, or hearts of arrows--flint)[1]were so called from their determined resistance to having the white mencome among them. They did not desire to have one of the Hudson BayCompany's posts upon their land, although the other tribes favored theirestablishment among them, wishing to barter their skins and obtainfire-arms; but said, that, if the white men saw their country, theywould want to take it from them, it was so beautiful. 

Father Joseph was their interpreter in the negotiations between themand the United States Government. They attacked Col. Steptoe, while hewas passing through their territory, because they had heard that thewhite men were going to build a road which would drive away the deer andthe buffalo. It was explained to them, that, although this was so, otheradvantages would more than compensate for it. This was beyond theircomprehension. To them, the advantages of civilization bore nocomparison to the charm of their free, roving life. When the armyofficers entered the Coeur d'Alêne country, they declared that noconception of heaven could surpass the beauty of its exquisite lakes, embosomed in the forest. This tribe held firm against all propositionsof the government to treat with them, until Donati's comet appeared in1858; when, supposing it to be a great fiery broom sent to sweep themfrom the earth, they accepted a treaty. 

The "Battle of Four Lakes" was fought in this country. An old man whomwe met at the fort in Walla Walla, who saw this battle, gave us someaccount of it. The lakes are surrounded with rocks covered with pine. Beyond them is a great rolling country of grassy hills. For about twomiles, he said, this open ground was all alive with the wildest, mostfantastic figures of mounted Indians, with painted horses, havingeagle-feathers braided into their tails and manes; each Indian fightingseparately on his own account. He described to us the appearance of thewar chief as he rode to battle, his own head hidden by a wolf's head, with stiff, sharp ears standing erect, ornamented with bears' claws, andunder it a circlet of feathers. From this head depended a long train offeathers that floated down his back; the loss of which would be the lossof his honor, and as great a disaster to him as, to a Chinaman, the lossof his cue. His war-horse was painted, as well as his own person, andalso profusely decorated with feathers on head and tail. The Indianshave such a fancy for feathers, that, in some of their medicineceremonies, they smear their heads with a sticky substance, and coverthem all over with swan's-down. 

Lieut. Mullan's surveying expedition roused many of the tribes todesperation. Owhi, the Yakima chief, when urged to give up hisland, --or, what amounted to the same thing, to allow free passage to thesurveying party and the road-makers, --argued that he could not give awaythe home of his people; saying, "It is not mine to give. The GreatSpirit has _measured_ it to my people. " Not being successful in hisarguments, he organized the outbreak of the following winter. The armydestroyed the caches filled with dried berries, and the pressed cakewhich the Indians prepare from roots for their winter food, many lodgesfilled with grain, and hundreds of horses; the officers mentioning intheir report, that it would insure the Indians a winter of greatsuffering, and concluding in these words: "Seldom has an expedition beenundertaken, the recollection of which is invested with so much that isagreeable, as that against the Northern Indians. "

 FOOTNOTES:

[1] To the Canadian _voyageur_, the word _alêne_ (awl) meant anysharp-pointed instrument. 

VI. 

 Colville to Seattle. --"Red. "--"Ferrins. "--"Broke Miners. "--A Rare Fellow-Traveller. --The Bell-Mare. --Pelouse Fall. --Red-Fox Road. --Early Californians. --Frying-Pan Incense. --Dragon-Flies. --Death of the Chief Seattle. 

 SEATTLE, August 23, 1866. 

We were detained at Fort Colville several days longer than we desired, seeking an opportunity to get back to the Columbia River, by some chancewagon going down from the mines, or from some of the supply-stations inthe upper country. In our expedition on the "Forty-nine, " we had seen agreat many miners, and, among them, one horrid character, with a flamingbeard, who was known by every one as "Red. " He had been mining in thesnow mountains, far up in British Columbia, and joined us to go down onthe steamer to Colville. He was terribly rough and tattered-looking. Themining-season in those northern mountains is so short, that he said hewas going back to winter at the mines, so as to be on the spot for workin the spring, and that he should take up about forty gallons of greaseto keep himself warm through the winter. 

He and his companions told great stories about their rough times in themountains. Some of them mentioned having been reduced to the extremityof living on "ferrins" when all other food had failed. These accountswere generally received, by the rest of the miners, with great outburstsof laughter. That appeared to be their customary way of regarding alltheir misfortunes, --at least, in the retrospect. We wondered what the"ferrins" could be. Nobody seemed to resort to them, except in thedirest need. Upon inquiry, we found out that they were _boiled ferns_. Ihave always noticed that even insects of all kinds pass by ferns. Isuspect that even the hungriest man would find them rather unsatisfying, but this light diet seemed to have kept them in the most jovial spirits. 

R. Was rather averse to travelling in such company, and always presented"Red" to me as the typical miner, when opportunities offered for ourgetting down from Colville with a party from the mines. Finally Ipersuaded him to accept either "Buffalo Bill, " who offered to take us byourselves, or an Irishman who insisted upon having a few miners withhim. I think he was rather prejudiced against the former, on account ofhis name; and we therefore made an agreement with the latter, to takeus, with only two miners, instead of ten as he at first desired, that R. Should see them before we started, and that we should have the wagon toourselves at night. As it happened, we left in haste, and did not seethe miners until they leaped from the wagon, and began to assist inputting in our baggage. That was not an occasion, of course, forcriticising them. Besides that, I saw, when I first looked at them, thatthey were rather harder to read than most people I had met; and I couldnot in a minute tell what to make of them. Our wagoner said they were"broke miners. " I did not know exactly what that meant, but thought theymight be very desperate characters, made more so by specialcircumstances. One of them looked like a brigand, with his dark hair andeyes. But I didn't mind; for I was tired of travelling about, andanxious to get home. I thought I would sleep most of the way down; so Iput back my head, and shut my eyes. Presently the dark man began to talkwith R. , in a musical voice, about the soft Spanish names of places inCalifornia; and I could not sleep much. Then he spoke of the primitiveforms in which minerals crystallized, the five-sided columns of volcanicrock, and the little cubes of gold. I could make no pretence at sleepany longer; I had to open my eyes; and once in a while I asked aquestion or two, although I would not show much interest, and determinednot to become at all acquainted with him, because we were necessarily tobe very intimate, travelling all day together, and camping together atnight. But I watched him a great deal, and listened to his conversationupon many subjects. I think, that not only on this journey, but in allthe time since we came to this coast, we have not enjoyed any thing elseso much. He had uncommon powers of expression, and of thought andfeeling too, and took great interest in every thing. He had even alittle tin box of insects. He showed us the native grains, wild rice, etc. , the footprints of animals, the craters of old volcanoes, andcalled us to listen to the wild doves at night, and the cry of the loonand the curlew. 

We travelled in a large freight-wagon, drawn by four mules. A prettylittle "bell-mare" followed the wagon. At night she was tied out on theplain; and the mules were turned loose to feed, and were kept fromwandering far away by the tinkle of the bell hung on her neck. We slepton beautiful flowering grass, which our wagoner procured for us on theway. When he tied great bunches of it on the front of the wagon, to feedthe animals when they came to a barren place, it looked as if we werepreparing to take part in some floral procession. The first night, wecamped in the midst of the pine-trees. When I woke in the night, andlooked round me, the row of dark figures on either side seemed like thegenii in "The Arabian Nights, " that used to guard sleeping princesses. 

Besides the knowledge which our fellow-traveller possessed of thecountry through which we were passing, which made him a valuablecompanion to us then, his general enthusiasm would have made himinteresting anywhere. I remember a little incident at one of our noonstopping-places, which we thought was very much to his credit. He alwayshastened to make a fire as soon as we stopped. It was rather hard tofind good places, sheltered from the wind, where it would burn, andwhich would furnish us, too, with a little shade. On this occasion therewas a magnificent tree very near us. We were passing out of the regionof trees, so it was a particularly welcome sight. He started the fireclose to it. It happened to be too near; the pitch caught fire, andpresently the trunk was encircled with flame. He was desperate to thinkthat he should have been guilty of an act of "such wantondestructiveness, " as he called it, --especially as it was the last finetree on the road. He abandoned all idea of dinner, and did nothingthrough that fiery noon, when we could hardly stir from theshade, --which we found farther off, --but rush between the stream near byand the tree, with his little camp-kettle of water, to try to save it. He looked back with such a grateful face, as we left the spot, to seethat the flames were smothered. There was something like a child abouthim; that is, an uncommon freedom from the wickedness that seems tobelong to most met, certainly the class he is in the habit ofassociating with. I doubt if there is one of the men we saw on the"Forty-nine" who would not have been delighted to burn that tree down;and how few of them would have thought, as he did, to put the littlepieces of wood that we had to spare, where fuel was scarce, into theroad, so that "some other old fellow, who might chance to come along, might see them and use them "!

He told us one beautiful story about miners, though, in connection withthe loss of the "Central America. " He had a friend on board among thepassengers, who were almost all miners going home. When they allexpected to perish with the vessel, a Danish brig hove in sight, andcame to the rescue. But the passengers could not all be transferred toher. They filled the ship's boats with their wives and their treasure, and sent them off; and the great body of them went down with a cheer anda shout, as the vessel keeled over. 

The event of special interest, in our journey home, was our visit to thePelouse Fall. We had heard that there was a magnificent fall on thePelouse, twelve miles by trail from the wagon-road, which we were verydesirous of seeing; but no one could give us exact directions forfinding it. Our friend the miner wanted very much to see it also; and ashe seemed to have quite an instinct for finding his way, by rockformations and other natural features of the country, we ventured toattempt it with him. The little bell-mare, which was a _cayuse_ (Indian)horse, was offered for my use, and an old Spanish wooden saddle placedupon her back. I had no bridle; but I had been presented at the fortwith a _hackama_ (a buffalo-hair rope), such as the Indians use withtheir horses. This was attached to the head of the horse, so that theminer could lead her. My saddle had an arrangement in front by which toattach the lasso, in catching animals. The miner said that just the samepattern was still in use in Andalusia and other Spanish provinces. Ifelt as if I were starting on quite a new career. When he lifted me onto the horse, he said, "How light you are!" It was because every carehad dropped off from me. 

We rode over the wildest desert country, with great black walls of rock, and wonderful cañons, with perpendicular sides, extending far down intothe earth. Mr. Bowles, in his book, "Across the Continent, " says hecannot compare any thing else to the exhilaration of the air of theupland plains; neither sea nor mountain air can equal it. The extremeheat, too, seemed to intensify every thing in us, even our power ofenjoyment, notwithstanding the discomfort of it. The thermometer marked117° in the shade. I felt as if I had never before known what breezesand shadows and streams were. Just as we had reached the last limit ofpossible endurance, the shadow of some great wall of rock would fallupon us, or a little breeze spring up, or we would find the landdescending to the bed of a stream. At length our miner, who had beenfor the last part of the way looking and listening with the closestattention, struck almost directly to the spot, hardly a step astray. Itwas all below the surface of the earth, so that hardly any sound roseabove; and there was no sign of any path to it, not a tree, nor shrub, nor blade of grass near, but an amphitheatre of rock, and the beautifulwhite river, in its leap into the cañon falling a hundred and ninetyfeet. The cliffs and jagged pinnacles of basaltic rock around it wereseveral hundred feet high. It looked like a great white bridal veil. Itwas made up of myriads of snowy sheaves, sometimes with the faintestamethyst tint. It shattered itself wholly into spray before it struckthe water below, --that is, the outer circumference of it, --and the innerpart was all that made any sound. 

The miner looked upon it with perfect rapture. He said to me, "It is arare pleasure to travel with any one who enjoys any thing of this kind. "I felt it so too. 

His striking directly at the spot, after many miles of travel, withoutany landmarks, reminded me of the experience of Ross, the Hudson Baytrader, when he travelled from Fort Okanagan on foot, two hundred milesto the coast, taking with him an Indian, who told him they would go bythe Red Fox road; that is, the road by which Red Fox the chief and hismen used to go. After they had travelled a long distance over a pathlesscountry, without any sign of a trail, or climbed along the rocky banksof streams, he asked his guide when they would reach the Red Fox road. "This is it, you are on, " was the reply. "Where?" eagerly inquired Ross:"I see no road here, not even so much as a rabbit could walk on. "--"Oh, there is no road, " answered the Indian: "this is the place where theyused to pass. "

At another time, when he was travelling with an Indian guide, who wasaccompanied by some of his relatives, the latter were left at a placecalled Friendly Lake, and were to be called for on their return. Theywent on to their journey's end, and on their way back, some days after, stopped at the place; but no sign of the relatives appeared. The guide, however, searched about diligently, and presently pointed to a smallstick, stuck up in the ground, with a little notch in it. He said, "Theyare there, " pointing in the direction in which the stick slanted, --"oneday's journey off. " Exactly there they were found. 

There was a kind of generosity about this "broke miner, " that made usready to forgive a great deal in him. No doubt there would have been agreat deal to forgive if we had known him more. He was, very likely, inthe habit of drinking and gambling, like the others that we saw. I knowhe was a terrible tobacco chewer and smoker. He has been seventeen yearson the Pacific side of the continent, came out as a "forty-niner, " hastravelled a great deal, and taken notes of all he has seen, and said hethought of making use of them some time, if his employments would everadmit of it. I think he is the best fitted to describe the country, ofall the persons I have met. 

He gave us quite a vivid idea of the semi-barbarous life of theCalifornia pioneers, and of the intense desire they sometimes felt for aglimpse of their homes, their wives, and children. I remembered StarrKing's saying that women and children had been more highly appreciatedin California ever since, on account of their scarcity during the firstfew years. I rather think the sentiment of the miners was somewhatintensified by the extreme difficulty they found in doing women's work. One of them, now an eminent physician, pricked and scarred his fingersin the most distressing manner, in attempting to sew on his buttons, and patch the rents in his garments. Another member of the camp, whowas afterwards governor of the State, won his first laurels as a cook, by the happy discovery, that, by combining an acid with the alkali usedin the making of their bread, the result was vastly more satisfactorythan where the alkali alone was used. In crossing the plains, they hadused the alkali water found there for this purpose. 

A travelling theatrical company, who presented themselves with theannouncement that they would perform a drama entitled "The Wife, " metwith unbounded appreciation. Carpenters were employed at sixteen dollarsa day to prepare for its presentation. This was the first play everacted in San Francisco. The company were encouraged to remain, and giveother performances; but, as there was only one lady actor, every playhad to be altered to conform to this condition of things. 

The most tempting advertisement a restaurant could offer was, "potatoesat every meal. " Those who indulged in fresh eggs did so at an expense ofone dollar per egg. 

When the signal from Telegraph Hill announced the arrival of the monthlymail-steamer, there was a general rush for the post-office; and a longline was formed, reaching from the office out to the tents in thechapparal. The building was a small one, and the facilities forassorting and delivering the mail so limited, that many hours wereconsumed in the work. Large prices were often paid for places near thehead of the line; and some of the more eager ones would wrap theirblankets around them, and stand all night waiting, in order to get anearly chance. 

Thus, with endless stories and anecdotes, accounts of his adventures asa miner and explorer, and descriptions of the new and wonderful placeshe had visited, and the curious people he had met, our fellow-travellerbeguiled the tediousness of the journey, and continually entertained us. 

As we approached Walla Walla, we made our last camp at the Touchet, alovely stream. I woke in the morning feeling as if some terriblemisfortune had befallen us. I could not tell what, until I was fullyroused, and found it could be nothing else than that we must sleep in abed that night. 

We left our miner in Walla Walla, to get work, I think, as a machinist. My acquaintance with him was a lesson to me, never to judge any one byappearance or occupation. We met afterwards some little, common-lookingmen, who had been so successful at the mines that they could hardlycarry their sacks of gold-dust, which made hard white ridges in theirhands. They had fifteen thousand dollars or more apiece. I thought, howunequally and unwisely Fate distributes her gifts; but then, as Mrs. S. Said when there was such a rush for the garments brought on board thesteamer for us at Panama, after our shipwreck, "Let those have them whocan least gracefully support the want of them. "

Among the miners of the upper country, who had not seen a white womanfor a year, I received such honors, that I am afraid I should have had avery mistaken impression of my importance if I had lived long amongthem. At every stopping-place they made little fires in theirfrying-pans, and set them around me, to keep off the mosquitoes, while Itook my meal. As the columns of smoke rose about me, I felt like aheathen goddess, to whom incense was being offered. The mosquitoes wereterrible; but we found our compensation for them in the journeyhomeward. I remember the entomology used to call the dragon-fly the"mosquito-hawk;" and such dragon-flies I never before saw as we met withnear the rivers, especially at the Pelouse. There seemed to be afestival of them there, and one kind of such a green as I believe neverwas seen before on earth, --so exquisite a shade, and so vivid. Therewere also burnished silver and gold ones, and every beautiful variety ofspotting and marking. A little Indian boy appeared there, dressed infeathers, with a hawk on his wrist, --a wild, spirited-looking littlecreature. 

On Sunday we reached Olympia, and saw the waters of the Sound, and theold headlands again. I had no idea it could look so homelike; and whenthe mountain range began to reveal itself from the mist, I felt as ifnothing we had seen while we were gone had been more beautiful, morereally impressive, than what we could look at any day from our ownkitchen-door. 

As we approached Seattle, we began to gather up the news. It is verymuch more of an event to get back, when you have had no newspapers, andonly the rarest communication of any kind, while you have been gone. 

Seattle, the old chief, had died. When he was near his end, he sent wordover to the nearest settlement, that he wished Capt. Meigs, the owner ofthe great sawmill at Port Madison, to come when he was dead, and takehim by the hand, and bid him farewell. 

We learned that the beautiful Port Angeles was to beabandoned, --Congress having decided to remove the custom-house to PortTownsend, --and that no vessels would go in there. It seemed like leavingAndromeda on her rock. We are going down to make a farewell visit. 

VII. 

 Port Angeles Village and the Indian Ranch. --A "Ship's _Klootchman_. "--Indian _Muck-a-Muck_. --Disposition of an Old Indian Woman. --A Windy Trip to Victoria. --The Black _Tamáhnous_. --McDonald's in the Wilderness. --The Wild Cowlitz. --Up the River during a Flood. --Indian Boatmen. --Birch-Bark and Cedar Canoes. 

 EDIZ HOOK, October 21, 1866. 

We are making a visit at the end of Ediz Hook. No one lives here now butthe light-keepers. When we feel the need of company, we look across tothe village of Port Angeles and the Indian ranch. It is very striking tosee how much more picturesque one is than the other, in the distance. Inthe village, all the trees have been cut down; but the lodges of theIndians stand in the midst of a maple grove, and in this Indian-summerweather there is always a lovely haze about it, bright leaves, and bluebeams of mist across the trees. Living so much out of doors as they do, and in open lodges, their little fires are often seen, giving theirranch a hospitable look, and making the appearance of the village veryuninviting in comparison. 

 OCTOBER 26, 1866. 

We have had a great storm; and last night, about dark, a white figure ofa woman appeared in the water, rising and falling, outside the breakers. Some Indians went out in their canoes, and took her in to the shore. Oneof them came to tell us about it. A "ship's _klootchman_" (wife orwoman), he said it was, and a "_hyas_ [big] ship" must have gone down. It was the figure-head of a vessel. The next morning, I saw that theIndians had set it up on the sand, with great wings--which they made ofbroken pieces of spars--at the sides. It was the large, handsome figureof a woman, twice life-size. They seemed to regard it as a kind ofgoddess; and I felt half inclined to, myself, she looked out so serenelyat the water. I sat down by her side, thinking about what had probablyhappened, to try to get her calm way of regarding it. A sloop was sentover from the custom-house, to take it across the bay foridentification; but that proved impracticable. The captain said that heknew the work, --it was English carving. Soon after, a vessel came in, having lost her figure-head. The men on board said that a strange shipran into her in the night, and immediately disappeared. They supposedshe was much injured, as they afterwards saw a deck-load of lumberfloating, which they thought had come from her. They said it might bethe "Radama, " bound for China. 

 OCTOBER 29, 1866. 

To-day, when we were coasting along the shore, we saw Yeomans preparinghis canoe for a long excursion. It was lined with mats. In the middlewere two of the baskets the Indians weave from roots, filled with redsalmon-spawn. Against them lay a gray duck, with snowy breast; then, deer-meat, and various kinds of fishes. Over the whole he had laid greatgreen leaves that looked like the leaves of the tulip-tree. The narrowend of the canoe was filled with purple sea-urchins, all alive, and ofthe most vivid color. I took one up, and asked him if they were good toeat. He said, "Indian _muck-a-muck_, not for Bostons" (whites). Hisarrangements looked a great deal more picturesque than our preparationsfor picnics. 

The light-keeper at Ediz Hook told us to-day that he had exhumed an oldIndian woman, whom some of her tribe had buried alive, or, rather, wrapped up and laid away in one of the little wooden huts in theirgraveyard, according to their custom of disposing of the dead. They hadapparently become tired of the care of her, and concluded to anticipateher natural exit from the world by this summary disposition of her. Mr. S. Heard her cries, and went to the rescue. He restored her to thetribe, with a reprimand for their barbarity, and told them the Bostonswould not tolerate such _mesahchie_ (outrageous) proceedings. 

 PORT ANGELES, October 31, 1866. 

We made a spirited voyage to Victoria, across the Straits of Fuca. Therehad been a very severe storm, which we thought was over; but it had awild ending, after we were on our way, and beyond the possibility ofreturn. We saw the California steamer, ocean-bound, putting back toport. Our only course was to hasten on. The spray was all rainbows, andthere were low rainbows in the sky, --incomprehensible rainbows above andbelow, --and the strongest wind that ever blew. It was all too wonderfulfor us to be afraid: it was like a new existence; as if we had cast offall connection with the old one, and were spirits only. We flew past thehigh shores, and looked up at the happy, homelike houses, with a strangefeeling of isolation and independence of all earthly ties. 

I staid on deck till every man had gone in, feeling that I belongedwholly to wind and wave, borne on like a bird. But the captain came andtook me in, lest I should be swept from the deck. When we reachedVictoria, great wooden signs were being blown off the stores, andknocking down the people in the streets. This is certainly the home ofthe winds. 

 NOVEMBER 20, 1866. 

To-day we met on the beach Tleyuk (Spark of Fire), a young Indian withwhom we had become acquainted. Instead of the pleasant "_Klahowya_" (Howdo you do?), with which he was accustomed to greet us, he took no noticeof us whatever. On coming nearer, we saw hideous streaks of black painton his face, and on various parts of his body, and inquired what theymeant. His English was very meagre; but he gave us to understand, in afew hoarse gutturals, that they meant hostility and danger to any onethat interfered with him. We noticed afterwards other Indians, withdark, threatening looks, and daubed with black paint, gathering fromdifferent directions. The old light-keeper was launching his boat tocross over to the spit, and we turned to him for an explanation. Hewarned us to keep away from the Indians, as this was the time of the"Black _Tamáhnous_, " when they call up all their hostility to thewhites. He pointed to some Indian children, who had a white elk-horn, like a dwarf white man, stuck up in the sand to throw stones at. I hadnoticed for the last few days, when I met them in the narrow paths inthe woods, that they stopped straight before me, obliging me to turnaside for them. 

We saw them withdraw to an old lodge in the woods, as if to hold asecret council. We did not feel much concerned as to the result of itfor ourselves, as we held such friendly relations to Yeomans, the oldchief, and had always given the Indians all the sea-bread theywanted, --that being the one article of our food that they seemed most toappreciate. As it proved, it was a mere thunder-cloud, dissipated aftera few growls. 

 MCDONALD'S, December 18, 1866. 

Not knowing the name of the nearest town, I date this from McDonald's, that having been our last stopping-place. It is on the stage-routebetween Columbia River and Puget Sound, and a place worth remembering. Iwish I could give an idea of its cheeriness, especially after travellinga fortnight in the rain, as we have done. At this season of the year, every thing is deluged; and the roads, full of deep mudholes andformidable stumps, are now at their worst. The heavy wagons move slowlyand laboriously forward, sometimes getting so deep in the mire that itis almost impossible to extricate them, and at times impeded by fallentrees, which the driver has to cut away. They are poorly protectedagainst the searching rains, and for the last two days we have beendrenched. 

When we caught the first glimpse of the red light in the distance, wefelt very much inclined to appreciate any thing approaching comfort, tired and dripping as we were; but what our happy Fates had in store forus, we never for a moment imagined. We had hardly entered the housebefore we felt that it was no common place. The fireplace was like agreat cavern, full of immense logs and blazing bark. It lighted up amost hospitable room. From a beam in the low ceiling, hung a greatbranch of apples. I counted twenty-three bright red and yellow applesshining out from it. 

Two stages meet here, and the main business at this time of the year isdrying the passengers sufficiently for them to proceed on their way thenext day. The host and his family stood round the fire, handling andturning the wet garments with unbounded good-nature and patience. Thestage-drivers cracked jokes and told stories. A spirit of perfectequality prevailed, and a readiness to take every thing in the bestpossible part. The family are Scotch, --hard-working people; but theyhave not worked so hard as to rub all the bloom off their lives, as somany people have that we have seen. 

When supper was announced, another surprise awaited us. Instead of theunvarying round of fried meat and clammy pie with which we had hithertobeen welcomed, we were refreshed with a dish of boiled meat, acorn-starch pudding, and stewed plums. Why some other dweller in thewilderness could not have introduced a little variety into his bill offare, we could never conceive. It seemed a real inspiration in McDonald, to send to California or Oregon for a little dried fruit and some papersof corn-starch. He gave us, too, what was even more delightful than hiswholesome food, --a little glimpse of his home-life. To a tiredtraveller, what could be more refreshing than a sight of somebody'shome? Generally, at whatever place we stopped, we saw only the"men-folks;" the family, often half-breed, being huddled away in therear. Here, in the room in which the guests were received, lay thesmiling baby in its old-fashioned cradle. Two blithe little girls dancedin and out, and the old grandfather sat holding a white-haired boy. Whendinner was over, the great business of drying the clothes was resumed bythe travellers and the family; and we held our wrappings by the fire, and turned them about, until we became so drowsy that we lost all senseof responsibility. We found, the next morning, that our host sat up andfinished all that were left undone. He had become so accustomed to thiskind of work, that he did not seem to consider it was any thing extra, or that it entitled him to any further compensation than the usual onefor a meal and a night's lodging. When we offered something more, hepointed to a little box nailed up beside the door, over which was anotice that any one who wished might contribute something for a schoolwhich the Sisters were attempting to open for the children of thatneighborhood. Being Scotch people, I could hardly believe they wereCatholics; but found upon inquiry that their views were so liberal as toenable them to appreciate the advantages of education, by whomsoeveroffered. I was quite touched by McDonald's little contribution tocivilization, in the midst of the wilderness. As I looked back, inleaving, at the great trees and the exquisitely curved slope of hislittle clearing, I felt that in the small log house was something worthyof the fine surroundings. 

 OLYMPIA, December 23, 1866. 

When we reached Cowlitz Landing, we found the river quite different incharacter from what we had known it before. It had risen many feet aboveits ordinary level, and was still rising, and had become a wide, fierce, and rushing stream, bearing on its surface great trees and fragments ofwrecked buildings, swiftly sailing down to the Columbia. How serenely wedescended the river last year, floating along at sunset, admiring thelovely valley and the hills, reaching over the side of the canoe, andsoaking our biscuits in the glacier-water, without once thinking of thevicissitudes to which we were liable from its mountain origin!

The little steamer that recently had begun to compete with the Indiancanoes in the traffic of the river, and the carrying of passengers, didnot dare to attempt to ascend it. Navigation was not to be thought of byordinary boats, or by white men, and was possible only by canoes in themost trusty hands. No land-conveyance could be had at this point. Wewere told that we might take the stream, by those familiar with it, ifwe could find good Indians willing to go with us. One called "Shorty"was brought forward to negotiate with us. He has the same dwarfedappearance I have noticed in the old women, and that strange, Egyptian-looking face and air. It would be impossible for any one totell, by his appearance, whether he personally were old or young; butthe ancientness of the type is deeply impressed upon him. Ifhalf-civilized Indians had been offered, or those that had had muchintercourse with the whites, I should have hesitated more to trust them;but he was such a pure Indian, it seemed as if he were as safe as anywild creature. Whether he would extend any help, in emergencies, to hisclumsy civilized passengers, was a more doubtful question. However, asthe alternative was to wait indefinitely, and the character of thestopping-places, as a rule, drives one to desperate measures, weconfided ourselves to his hands, and embarked with him and hisassistant, a fine athletic young Indian. 

We fixed our eyes intently upon him, as if studying our fates. He wasperfectly imperturbable, and steered only, the other poling the canoealong the edge of the stream, and grasping the overhanging trees topull it along, using the paddle only when these means were notavailable. His work required unceasing vigilance and activity, and wasso hard that it would have exhausted any ordinary man in a few hours;but he kept on from early morning till dark. Always in the mostdifficult places, or if his energy seemed to flag in the least, Shortywould call out to him, in the most animated manner, mentioning a canoe, a hammock, and a _hyas closhe_ (very nice) _klootchman_; at which theyoung man would laugh with delight, and start anew. I considered it wasprobably his stock in life, the prospect of an establishment, which waspresented to rouse and cheer him on. Shorty had been recommended to usas one of the best hands on the river. I began to see that it was forhis power of inspiring others, as well as for his extreme vigilance inkeeping out of the eddies, and avoiding the drift in crossing the river, to be caught in which would have been destruction. We crossed severaltimes, to secure advantages which his quick eye perceived. I noticedthat whenever he pointed out any particular branch on the shore to beseized, how certain the other was to strike it at once. With white men, how much blundering and missing there would have been!

I never felt before, so strongly, how many vices attend civilization, which it seems as if men might just as well be free from, as when Icompared these Indians with the common white people about us, --thestage-drivers, mill-men, and others, --with no smoking nor drinking nortobacco-chewing, and so strong and graceful, and sure in their aim, thatno gymnast I have ever seen could compare with them. The ingenious waysin which they helped themselves along in places where any boat of ourswould have been immediately overturned, converting obstacles often intohelps, were fascinating to study. As night came on, I began to wish thattheir consciences were a little more developed, or, rather, that theyhad a little more sense of responsibility with regard to us. The safetyof their passengers is no burden whatever on the minds of the Indians. Their spirits seem to rise with danger. They know that they could verywell save themselves in an emergency, and I believe they prefer thatwhite people should be drowned. I could only look into the imperturbablefaces of our boatmen, and wonder where we were to spend the night. Finally, with a terrible whirl, which I felt at the time must be ourlast, they entered a white foaming slough (a branch of the river), anddrew up on the bank. They announced to us then that we were to walk amile through the woods, to a house. I think no white man, even the mostsurly of our drivers, would have asked us to do that, --in perfectblackness, the trees wet and dripping, --but would have managed to bringus to some inhabited place. They started off at a rapid gait, and wefollowed. We could not see their forms; but one carried something whitein his hand, which we faintly discerned in the darkness, which served asour guide. They sang and shouted, and sounded their horn, all the way. Isupposed it was to keep off bad spirits, but the next day we heard thatin those woods bears and panthers were sometimes found. At length alight appeared. We felt cheered; but when we approached it, two furiousdogs rushed out at us. They were immediately followed by their master, who took us in. After consultation with him, we concluded to abandon ourIndians, as he said he could take us, on the following day, through thewoods to the next stopping-place, with his ox-team. The quiet comfort ofbeing transported by oxen was something not to be resisted, after havingour nerves so racked. We felt an immense satisfaction in coming againupon our own kind, even if it were only in an old log cabin, where thechildren were taken out of their bed to put us in. 

We have seen no bark canoes here; they are all of cedar. No doubt thereis good canoe-birch on the river-banks, but something more durable isneeded. The North-west Fur Company, in early days, sent out a cargo ofbirch from Montreal to London, to be shipped from there round Cape Hornto the north-west coast of America, to be made into canoes for their mento navigate the Columbia and its branches; in direst ignorance of therequirements of the country, as well as of its productions. 

VIII. 

 Voyage to San Francisco. --Fog-Bound. --Port Angeles. --Passing Cape Flattery in a Storm. --Off Shore. --The "Brontes. "--The Captain and his Men. --A Fair Wind. --San Francisco Bar. --The City at Night. --Voyage to Astoria. --Crescent City. --Iron-Bound Coast. --Mount St. Helen's. --Mount Hood. --Cowlitz Valley and its Floods. --Monticello. 

 SAN FRANCISCO, February 20, 1867. 

We are here at last, contrary to all our expectations for the last tendays. We left Puget Sound at short notice, taking passage on the firstlumber-vessel that was available, with many misgivings, as she was adilapidated-looking craft. We went on board at Port Madison, aboutdusk, --a dreary time to start on a sea-voyage, but we had to accommodateourselves to the tide. The cabin was such a forlorn-looking place, thatI was half tempted to give it up at the last; when I saw, sitting besidethe rusty, empty stove, a small gray-and-white cat, purring, and rubbingher paws in the most cheery manner. The contrast between the great, cold, tossing ocean, and that little comfortable creature, making thebest of her circumstances, so impressed me, that I felt ashamed toshrink from the voyage, if she was willing to undertake it. So Iunpacked my bundles, and settled down for a rough time. There were onlytwo of us as passengers, lumber-vessels not making it a part of theirbusiness to provide specially for their accommodation. 

The sky looked threatening when we started; and the captain said, if hethought there was a storm beginning, he would not try to go on. But aswe got out into the Straits of Fuca, the next day, a little barque, the"Crimea, " came up, and said she had been a week trying to get out of thestraits, and thought the steady south-west wind, which had preventedher, could not blow much longer. We continued beating down towards theocean, and in the afternoon a dense fog shut us in. The last thing wesaw was an ocean-steamer, putting back to Victoria for shelter. Ourcaptain said his vessel drew too much water for Victoria Harbor, and theentrance was too crooked to attempt; but, if he could find Port Angeles, he would put in there. A gleam of sunshine shot through the fog, andshowed us the entrance; and we steered triumphantly for that refuge. Twoother vessels had anchored there. But just as we were about roundingthe point to enter, and were congratulating ourselves on the quiet nightwe hoped to spend under the shelter of the mountains, the captain spieda sail going on towards the ocean. He put his vessel right about, determined to face whatever risks any other man would. But the vesselseemed unwilling to go. All that night, and the next day, and the nextnight, we rode to and fro in the straits, unable to get out. 

Passing Cape Flattery is the great event of the voyage. It is alwaysrough there, from the peculiar conformation of the land, and theconflict of the waters from the Gulf of Georgia, and other inlets, withthe ocean-tides. Our captain had been sailing on this route for fifteenyears, but said he had never seen a worse sea than we encountered. Weasked him if he did not consider the Pacific a more uncertain ocean thanthe Atlantic. At first he said "Yes;" then, "No, it is pretty certain tobe bad here at all times. " What could Magellan's idea have been in sonaming it? He, however, sailed in more southern latitudes, where it maybe stiller. We expected to sail _on_ the water; but our vessel drove_through_ it, just as I have seen the snow-plough drive through thegreat drifts after a storm. Going to sea on a steamer gives one no ideaof the winds and waves, --the real life of the ocean, --compared to whatwe get on a sailing-vessel. Every time we tried to round the point, great walls of waves advanced against us, --so powerful anddefiant-looking, that I could only shut my eyes when they drew near. Itdid not seem as if I made a prayer, but as if I were myself a prayer, only a winged cry. I knew then what it must be to die. I felt that Ifled from the angry sea, and reached, in an instant, serene heightsabove the storm. 

Finally, as the result of all these desperate efforts, in which werecognized no gain, the captain announced that we had made the point, but we could get no farther until the wind changed; and, while we stillfelt the fury of the contrary sea, it was hard to recognize that we hadmuch to be grateful for. We saw one beautiful sight, though, --a vesselgoing home, helped by the wind that hindered us. It was at night; andthe light struck up on her dark sails, and made them look like wings, asshe flew over the water. What bliss it seemed, to be nearing home, andall things in her favor!

I could hear all about us a heavy sound like surf on the shore, whichwas quite incomprehensible, as we were so far from land. But the waterdrove us from the deck. The vessel plunged head foremost, and reeledfrom side to side, with terrible groaning and straining. If we attemptedto move, we were violently thrown in one direction or another; andfinally found that all we could do was to lie still on the cabin-floor, holding fast to any thing stationary that we could reach. We could hearthe water sweeping over the deck above us, and several times it poureddown in great sheets upon us. We ventured to ask the captain what he wasattempting to do. "Get out to sea, " he said, "out of the reach ofstorms. " That is brave sailing, I thought, though I would not have goneif I could have helped it. We struggled on in this way for a day and anight, and then he said we were beyond the region of storms from land. Iam afraid I should, if left to myself, linger always with thefaint-hearted mariners who hug the shore, notwithstanding this greatexperience of finding our safety by steering boldly off from every thingwherein we had before considered our only security lay. After this, Iperformed every day the great exploit of climbing to the deck, andlooking out at the waste of water. I saw only one poor old vessel, pitching and reeling like a drunken man. I wondered if we could look soto her. She was always half-seas-over. I came to the conclusion it wasbest not to watch her, but it was hard to keep my eyes off of her. Shewas our companion all the way down, always re-appearing after every galewe weathered, though often far behind. I remember, just as we werefairly under way, hearing a man sing out, "There's the old 'Brontes'coming out of the straits. " My associations with the name were gloomy inthe extreme. 

When the wind and sea were at their worst, considering the extremity, wefelt called upon to offer some advice to the captain, and suggestedthat, under such circumstances, it might be advisable to travel underbare poles; but that, he assured us, was only resorted to when a man'svoice could not possibly be heard in giving orders. 

The captain was quite a study to us. On shore he presented the mostordinary appearance. When we had been out two or three days, I noticedsome one I had not seen before on deck, and thought to myself, "That isan apparition for a time of danger, --a man as resolute as the seaitself, so stern and gray-looking. " I was quite bewildered, for Ithought I must certainly before that have seen every one on board. Itproved to be the captain in his storm-clothes. One of the sailors was aRussian serf, running away, as he said, from the Czar of Russia, notwholly believing in the safety of the serfs. He had shipped as acompetent sea-man; but when he was sent up to the top of themizzen-mast, to fix the halliards for a signal, he stopped in the mostperilous place, and announced that he could not go any farther. It seemsthat every man on board was a stranger to the captain. It filled us withanxiety to think how much depended on that one man. One night there wasan alarm of "A man overboard!" If it had been the captain, how aimlesslywe should have drifted on! I liked to listen, when we were below, tohear the men hoisting the sails, and shouting together. It sounded as ifthey were managing horses, now restraining them, and now cheering themon. When the captain put his hand on the helm, we could always tellbelow. There was as much difference as in driving. In the midst of thewildest plunging, he would suddenly quiet it by putting the vessel insome other position, just as he would have held in a rearing horse. 

Two or three times, when there was a little lull, I went on deck; andthe air was as balmy as from a garden. What can it mean, this fragranceof fresh flowers in the midst of the sea?

Some virtues, I think, are admirably cultivated at sea. Night afternight, as we lay there, I said to the captain, "What is the meaning ofthose clouds?" or "that dull red sky?" And he answered so composedly, "It's going to be squally, " that I admired his patience; but it woreupon us very much. 

At length, one night, as I lay looking up through our little skylight, at the flapping of the great white spanker-sheet, --my special enemy anddread, because the captain would keep it up when I thought it unsafe, itseemed such a lawless thing, and so ready to overturn us every time itshifted, --a great cheerful star looked in. It meant that all trouble wasover. One after another followed it. I could not speak, I was so glad. Icould only look at them, and feel that our safety was assured. The windhad changed. I appreciated the delight of Ulysses in "the fresh NorthSpirit" Calypso gave him "to guide him o'er the sea, "--the rest of ourvoyage was so exhilarating. 

We had one more special risk only, --crossing the bar of San FranciscoBay. The captain said, if he reached it at night, he expected to waituntil daylight to enter; but I knew that his ambitious spirit wouldnever let him, if it were possible to get over. About three o'clock inthe morning, I heard a new sound in the water, like the rippling ofbillows, as if it were shallow. I hastened upon deck, and found that wewere apparently on the bar. The captain and the mate differed about thesounding. Immediately after, I heard the captain tell a man to run downand see what time it was; and, upon learning the hour, heard himexclaim, in the deepest satisfaction, "Flood-tide, sure! Well, we had achance!" I felt as if we had had a series of chances from the time weleft Port Angeles Harbor, to the running in without a pilot, anddrifting, as we did, into the revenue-cutter, just as we anchored. Wehad a beautiful entrance, though. It is a long passage, an hour or twoafter crossing the bar. San Francisco lay in misty light before us, likeone of the great bright nebulæ we used to look at in Hercules, or thesword-handle of Perseus. It is splendidly lighted. As we drew nearer, there seemed to be troops of stars over all the hills. 

 ASTORIA, ORE. , October 17, 1868. 

In making the voyage from San Francisco, I could hardly go on deck atall, until the last day; but, lying and looking out at my littleport-hole, I saw the flying-fish, and the whales spouting, and thestormy-petrels and gulls. 

On Sunday the boat was turned about; and when we inquired why, we weretold that the wind and sea were so much against us, we were going to putback into Crescent City. It came at once into our minds, how on Sunday, three years before, the steamer "Brother Jonathan, " in attempting to dothe same thing, struck a rock, and foundered, and nearly all on boardwere lost. 

Crescent City is an isolated little settlement, a depot for supplies forminers working on the rivers in Northern California. It has properly noharbor, but only a roadstead, filled with the wildest-looking blackrocks, of strange forms, standing far out from the shore, and affords avery imperfect shelter for vessels if they are so fortunate as to getsafely in. The Coast Survey Report mentions it as "the most dangerous ofthe roadsteads usually resorted to, filled with sunken rocks and reefs. "It further says, that "no vessel should think of gaining an anchoragethere, without a pilot, or perfect knowledge of the hidden dangers. Therocks are of peculiar character, standing isolated like bayonets, withtheir points just below the surface, ready to pierce any unlucky craftthat may encounter them. " The "Dragon Rocks" lie in the near vicinity, at the end of a long reef that makes out from Crescent City. All thesteamers that enter or depart from there must pass near them. 

It is very remarkable, that, while the Atlantic coast abounds inexcellent harbors, on the Pacific side of the continent there is no goodharbor where a vessel can find refuge in any kind of weather between SanFrancisco Bay and San Diego to the south, and Port Angeles, on theStraits of Fuca, to the north. It is fitly characterized by Wilkes as an"iron-bound coast. "

We reached here Saturday night. Sunday morning, hearing a silvertriangle played in the streets, we looked out for tambourines anddancing-girls, but saw none, and were presently told it was the call tochurch. We were quite tempted to go and hear what the service would be, but the sound of the breakers on the bar enchained us to stop and listento them. 

 PORTLAND, ORE. , October 20, 1868. 

In coming up the river from Astoria, we had always in view thesnow-white cone of St. Helen's, one of the principal peaks of theCascade Range. Nothing can be conceived more virginal than this form ofexquisite purity rising from the dark fir forests to the serene sky. Mount Baker's symmetry is much marred by the sunken crater at thesummit; Mount Rainier's outline is more complicated: this is a pure, beautiful cone. It is so perfect a picture of heavenly calm, that it isas hard to realize its being volcanic as it would be to imagine anoutburst of passion in a seraph. Frémont reports having seen columns ofsmoke ascending from it, and showers of ashes are known to have fallenover the Dalles. 

As we approached Portland, the sharp-pointed form of Mount Hood cameprominently into view. Portland would be only a commonplace city, theWillamette River being quite tame here, and the shores low andunattractive; but this grand old mountain, and the remnant of forestabout it, give it an ancient, stately, and dignified look. 

 OLYMPIA, October 30, 1868. 

In crossing from the Columbia River to the Sound, we saw, along theCowlitz Valley, marks of the havoc and devastation caused by the floodsof last winter. The wild mountain stream had swept away many familiarlandmarks since we were last there; in fact, had abandoned its bed, andtaken a new channel. It gave us a realizing sense of the fact that greatchanges are still in process on our globe. Where we had quietlyslumbered, is now the bed of the stream. We mourned over the littleplace at Monticello, where for eight years a nice garden, with rows oftrim currant-bushes, had gladdened the eyes of travellers, and the neatinn, kept by a cheery old Methodist minister, had given them hospitablewelcome, --not a vestige of the place now remaining. Civilization is solittle advanced in that region, that few men would have the heart or themeans to set out a garden. 

IX. 

 Victoria. --Its Mountain Views, Rocks, and Flowers. --Vancouver's Admiration of the Island. --San Juan Islands. --Sir James Douglas. --Indian Wives. --Northern Indians. --Indian Workmanship. --The Thunder-Bird. --Indian Offerings to the Spirit of a Child. --Pioneers. --Crows and Sea-Birds. 

 VICTORIA, B. C. , November 15, 1868. 

We are to stay for several months in this place. We are delightfullysituated. The house has quite a Christmas look, from the holly and otherbright berries that cluster round the windows. The hall is picturesquelyornamented with deer's horns and weapons and Indian curiosities. But theview is what we care most about. On our horizon we have the exquisitepeaks of silver, the summits of the Olympic Range, at the foot of whichwe lived in Port Angeles. We look across the blue straits to them. Immediately in front is an oak grove, and on the other side a greatextent of dark, Indian-looking woods. There are nearer mountains, wherewe can see all the beautiful changes of light and shade. Yesterday theywere wrapped in haze, as in the Indian summer, and every thing was softand dreamy about them; to-day they stand out bold and clear, with greatwastes of snow, ravines, and landslides, and dark prominences, alldistinctly defined. When the setting sun lights up the summits, newfields of crystal and gold, and other more distant mountains, appear. 

It is very refreshing to get here, the island has such a rich green lookafter California. It is quite rocky about us; but the rocks even arecarpeted deep with moss, and the old gnarled branches of the oaks have acoating of thick, bright velvet. It is now the middle of November; andthe young grass is springing up after the rain, and even where it doesnot grow there is no bare earth, but brown oak-leaves and brakes, withsoft warm colors, particularly when the sun strikes across them. Theskies, too, are like those at home, with the magnificent sunrise andsunset that only clouds can give. The California sky is, much of thetime, pure unchanging blue. 

When we first landed here, we were very much impressed by the appearanceof the coast, it being bold and rocky, like that of New England; whileon the opposite side of the straits, and almost everywhere on the Sound, are smooth, sandy shores, or high bluffs covered with trees. The trees, too, at once attracted our attention, --large, handsome oaks, instead ofthe rough firs, and a totally different undergrowth, with many flowerswholly unknown on the opposite side, which charmed us with theirbrilliancy and variety of color; among them the delicate cyclamen, andothers that we had known only in greenhouses. They continually recalledto us the surprise of some of the early explorers at seeing anuncultivated country look so much like a garden. We were told that muchless rain falls here than on the American side; the winds depositingtheir moisture as snow on the mountains before they reach Victoria, which gives it a dryer winter climate. 

Vancouver, in his narrative, repeatedly speaks of the serenity of theweather here, and says that the scenery recalled to him delightfulplaces in England. He felt as if the smooth, lawn-like slopes of theisland must have been cleared by man. Every thing unsightly seemed tohave been removed, and only what was most graceful and picturesqueallowed to remain. He says, "I could not possibly believe that anyuncultivated country had ever been discovered exhibiting so rich apicture. " When requested by the Spanish Seignor Quadra to select someharbor or island to which to give their joint names, in memory of theirfriendship, and the successful accomplishment of their business (theyhaving been commissioned respectively by their governments to tender andreceive the possessions of Nootka, given back by Spain to GreatBritain), he selected this island as the fairest and most attractivethat he had seen, and called it the "Island of Quadra and Vancouver. "The "Quadra, " as was usual with the Spanish names, was soon afterdropped. 

Between Vancouver's Island and Washington Territory lie thelong-disputed islands of the San Juan group; the British claiming thatRosario Strait is the channel indicated in the Treaty of 1846, whichwould give them the islands; while the United States claim that De HaroStrait is the true channel, and that the islands belong to them. 

These islands are valuable for their pasturage and their harbors, andmost of all for their situation in a military point of view. While thisquestion is still in dispute, the British fort at one end of San Juan, and the American fort at the other, observe towards each other arespectful silence. 

 DECEMBER 1, 1868. 

Sir James Douglas, the first governor of British Columbia, selected thesite of Victoria. Owing to his good taste, the natural beauty of theplace has been largely preserved. The oak groves and delicateundergrowth are a great contrast to the rude mill-sites of the Sound, where every thing is sacrificed to sending off so much lumber. He livesat Victoria in a simple, unpretending way. It was made a law in BritishColumbia, that no white man should live with an Indian woman as wife, without marrying her. He set the example himself, by marrying one of thehalf-breed Indian women. Some of the chief officers of the Hudson BayCompany did the same. The aristocracy of Victoria has a large admixtureof Indian blood. The company encouraged their employés, mostly FrenchCanadians, to take Indian wives also. They were absolute in prohibitingthe sale of intoxicating drinks to the Indians, and dismissed from theiremploy any one who violated this rule. They gave the Indians bettergoods than they got from the United States agents; so that they even nowdistinguish between a King George (English) blanket, and a Boston(American) blanket, as between a good one and a bad one. 

It was, no doubt, owing to the influence of Sir James Douglas, thatLady Burdett Coutts sent out and established a high school here for boysand girls. 

 DECEMBER 5, 1868. 

We saw here some of the Northern Indians of the Haidah tribe, from QueenCharlotte's Islands. They came in large canoes, some of which would holda hundred men, and yet each was hollowed out of a single log of cedar. They came down to bring a cargo of dogfish-oil to the light-house atCape Flattery. They camped for two weeks on the beach, and we went oftento see them. Having led such an isolated life on their islands, surrounded by rough water, and hardly known to white men, they havepreserved many peculiarities of their tribe, and are quite different intheir looks and habits from the Indians of Puget Sound. Some of the oldwomen had a little piece of bone or pearl shell stuck through the lowerlip, which gave them a very barbarous appearance; but in many ways themen had more knowledge of arts and manufactures than any other Indianswe have seen. They showed us some ornaments of chased silver, which theyoffered for sale; also bottle-shaped baskets, made of roots and bark, soclosely woven together as to hold water. But most curious to us weresome little black, polished columns, about a foot high, that looked likeebony. They were covered with carvings, very skilfully executed. When wetook them into our hands, we were surprised at their weight, and foundthat they were made of a fine, black coal-slate. A man who stood byexplained to us that this slate is a peculiar product of their islands. When first quarried, it is so soft as to be easily cut; and whenafterward rubbed with oil, and exposed to the air, it becomes intenselyhard. At the foot of the column was the bear, who guards the entrance oftheir lodges; at the top, the crow, who presides over every thing. Onsome were frogs and lizards. One was surmounted by the "thunder-bird, " amythological combination of man and bird, who lives among the mountains. When he sails out from them, the sky is darkened; and the flapping ofhis wings makes the thunder, and the winking of his eyes the lightning. It is very strange that the "thunder-bird" should be one of the deitiesof the Indians of the North-west, where thunder is so rare as to bephenomenal. We heard of him in other parts of British Columbia, and seehim represented in carvings from Sitka. Tatoosh Island, off CapeFlattery, where the Makah Indians live, derives its name from_Tootootche_, the Nootka name for the "thunder-bird. " The Makahsoriginally came from the west coast of Vancouver's Island. They deemthemselves much superior to the tribes of the interior, because they goout on the ocean. Their home being on the rocky coast islands, theynaturally look to the water to secure their living. Their chief businessis to hunt the whale, they being the only Indians who engage in thispursuit. 

Sometimes we found the Indians so deeply interested in a game they wereplaying, that they took no notice of us. It was played with slenderround sticks, about six inches long, made of yew wood, so exquisitelypolished that it had a gloss like satin. Some of the sticks were inlaidwith little bits of rainbow pearl, and I saw one on which the figure ofa fish was very skilfully represented. It is quite incomprehensible, howthey can do such delicate work with the poor tools they have. They useonly something like a cobbler's knife. 

They shuffled the sticks under tow of cedar-bark, droning all the time alow, monotonous chant. It is curious that any thing so extremely simplecan be so fascinating. They will sit all day and night, without stoppingfor food, and gamble away every thing they possess. It appeared to beidentical with the old game of "Odd or Even" played by the ancientGreeks, as described by Plato. 

We saw here the great conical hat worn by the Cape Flattery Indians, similar in form to the Chinese hat; and also some blankets of their ownmanufacture, woven of dog's hair. 

 PORT TOWNSEND, WASHINGTON TERRITORY, April 4, 1869. 

This afternoon we rode past the graveyard of the Indians on the beach. It is a picturesque spot, as most of their burial-places are. They liketo select them where land and water meet. A very old woman, wrapped in agreen blanket, was digging clams with her paddle in the sand. She wasone of those stiff old Indians, whom we occasionally see, who do notspeak the Chinook at all, and take no notice whatever of the whites. Inever feel as if they even see me when I am with them. They seem alwaysin a deep dream. Her youth must have been long before any white peoplecame to the country. When she dies, her body will be wrapped in thetattered green blanket, and laid here, with her paddle, her onlypossession, stuck up beside her in the sand. 

We saw two Indians busy at one of the little huts that cover thegraves. They were nailing a new red covering over it. We asked them if achief was dead. A _klootchman_ we had not noticed before looked up, andsaid mournfully, "No, " it was her "little woman. " I saw that she hadbefore her, on the sand, a number of little bright toys, --a doll wrappedin calico, a musical ball, a looking-glass, a package of candy and oneof cakes, a bright tin pail full of sirup, and two large sacks, one ofbread, and the other of apples. 

Another and older woman was picking up driftwood, and arranging it for afire. When the men had finished their work at the hut, they came andhelped her. They laid it very carefully, with a great many openings, andlevel on the top, and lighted it. 

Then the grandmother brought a little purple woollen shawl, and gave itto the old man. He held it out as far as his arm could reach, and wavedit, and apparently called to the spirit of the child to come and receiveit; and he then cast it into the fire. He spoke in the old Indianlanguage, which they do not use in talking with us. It sounded verystrange and thrilling. Each little toy they handled with great carebefore putting it into the flames. After they had burned up the breadand the apples, they poured on some sugar, and smothered the flames, making a dense column of smoke. 

Then they all moved a little farther back, and motioned us to also. Wewondered they had tolerated us so long, as they dislike being observed;but they seemed to feel that we sympathized with them. The old man staidnearest. He lay down on the sand, half hidden by a wrecked tree. Hestripped his arms and legs bare, and pulled his hair all up to the topof his head, and knotted it in a curious way, so that it nodded in ashaggy tuft over his forehead. Then he lay motionless, looking at thefire, once in a while turning and saying something to the women, apparently about the child, as I several times distinguished the word_tenas-tenas_ (the little one). I thought perhaps he might be describingher coming and taking the things. At times he became very animated. Theydid not stir, only answered with a kind of mournful "Ah--ah, " to everything he said. 

At last their little dog bounded forward, as if to meet some one. Atthat, they were very much excited and pleased, and motioned us to gofarther off still, as if it were too sacrilegious for us to stay there. They all turned away but the old man, and he began to move in a stealthyway towards the fire. All the clumsiness and weight of a man seemed tobe gone. He was as light and wiry as a snake, and glided round the olddrift that strewed the sand, with his body prostrate, but his head helderect, and his bright eyes fixed on the fire, like some wild desertcreature, which he appeared to counterfeit. The Indians think, that, byassuming the shape of any creature, they can acquire something of itspower. When he had nearly reached the fire, he sprang up, and caughtsomething from it. I could not tell whether it was real or imaginary. Heheld it up to his breast, and appeared to caress it, and try to twine itabout his neck. I thought at first it was a coal of fire; perhaps it wassmoke. Three times he leaped nearly into the flames in this way, anddarted at something which he apparently tried to seize. Then he seemedto assure the others that he had accomplished his purpose; and they allwent immediately off, without looking back. 

 APRIL 20, 1869. 

We are surprised to find so many New-England people about us. Many ofthose who are interested in the sawmills are lumbermen from Maine. Thetwo men who first established themselves in the great wilderness, withunbroken forest, and only Indians about them, are still living near us. They are men of resources, as well as endurance. A man who comes to dobattle against these great trees must necessarily be of quite adifferent character from one who expects, as the California pioneer did, to pick up his fortune in the dust at his feet. I am often reminded ofThoreau's experience in the Maine woods. He says, "The deeper youpenetrate into the woods, the more intelligent, and, in one sense, lesscountrified, do you find the inhabitants; for always the pioneer hasbeen a traveller, and to some extent a man of the world; and, as thedistances with which he is familiar are greater, so is his informationmore general and far-reaching. "

 MAY 30, 1869. 

The gulls and crows give parties to each other on the sand, at low-tide. Farther out are the ducks, wheeling about, and calling to each other, with sharp, lively voices. It is curious to watch them, and try tounderstand their impulses. Sometimes they are all perfectly motionless, sitting in companies of hundreds, in the deepest calm; sometimes all ina flutter, tripping over the water, with their wings just striking it, uttering their shrill cry. They dive, but never come to shore. What onedoes, all the rest immediately do. Sometimes the whole little fleet isgone in an instant, and the water unruffled above them. 

The prettiest among them is the spirit-duck, --its motion is sobeautiful, as it breasts the little billows, or glides through the stillwater. Their bosoms are so like the white-caps, I have to look for theirlittle black heads, to see where they are. Once in a while, a loon comessailing along, in its slow, stately way, turning its slender, gracefulneck from side to side, as if enjoying the scenery. We never see morethan two of them together, and they generally separate soon. 

X. 

 Puget Sound and Adjacent Waters. --Its Early Explorers. --Towns, Harbors, and Channels. --Vancouver's Nomenclature. --Juan de Fuca. --Mount Baker. --Chinese "Wing. "--Ancient Indian Women. --Pink Flowering Currant and Humming-Birds. --"Ah Sing. "

 PORT TOWNSEND, September 10, 1869. 

We have been spending a day or two in travelling about the Sound bysteamer, touching at the various mill-towns and other ports, where theboat calls, to receive and deliver the mails, or for other business. Every time we pass over these waters, we admire anew their extent andbeauty, and their attractive surroundings, their lovely bays andfar-reaching inlets, their bold promontories and lofty shores, theirsetting in the evergreen forest, and the great mountains in thedistance, standing guard on either side. 

The early explorers who visited this part of the country evidently had ahigh appreciation of it, as their accounts of it show. Vancouver, whocame in 1792, expressed so much admiration of these waters and theirsurroundings, that his statements were received with hesitation, and itwas supposed that his enthusiasm as an explorer had led him toexaggeration. But Wilkes, who followed him many years afterwards, confirmed all that he had said, and, in his narrative, writes as followsregarding this great inland sea:--

 "Nothing can exceed the beauty of these waters, and their safety. Not a shoal exists within the Straits of San Juan de Fuca, Admiralty Inlet, Puget Sound, or Hood's Canal, that can in any way interrupt their navigation by a seventy-four-gun ship. I venture nothing in saying there is no country in the world that possesses waters equal to these. "

 In another account Wilkes writes: "One of the most noble estuaries in the world; without a danger of any kind to impede navigation; with a surrounding country capable of affording all kinds of supplies, harbors without obstruction at any season of the year, and a climate unsurpassed in salubrity. "

More recently the United States Coast Survey Report of 1858 declares, that, "For depth of water, boldness of approaches, freedom from hiddendangers, and the immeasurable sea of gigantic timber coming down to thevery shores, these waters are unsurpassed, unapproachable. "

We were at first puzzled by the various names given to the differentwaters over which we travelled; but soon discovered, that, while theterm "Puget Sound" is popularly applied to the whole of them, itproperly belongs only to the comparatively small body of water lyingbeyond the "Narrows, " at the southern end, and the arms and inlets thatbranch therefrom. 

The great natural divisions of this system are: the Straits of Juan deFuca, extending from the ocean eastward about eighty miles, and thenbranching into the vast Gulf of Georgia to the north, and AdmiraltyInlet to the south; Hood's Canal, branching from the latter, on the westside, near the entrance, and running south-west about sixty miles;Possession Sound, branching from the east side, and extending northbetween Whidby Island and the mainland, as far as Rosario Straits; andPuget Sound, connected with the southerly end of Admiralty Inlet by the"Narrows. "

We commenced our recent trip at Victoria, and crossed the Straits ofFuca, --through which the west wind draws as through a tunnel, --to PortAngeles. This place was named by Don Francisco Elisa, who was sent outto this region in 1791 by the Mexican Viceroy. Of course Don Franciscomust compliment the Viceroy by giving his name to some important points. This royal personage had a string of ten proper names, besides histitles. These Don Francisco distributed according to his judgment. Beingapparently a religious man, he was mindful also of the claims of saintsand angels; and, when he reached the first good harbor on the uppercoast, he called it _Puerto de los Angeles_ (Port of the Angels). 

Proceeding eastward, the next point of interest is New Dungeness, socalled by Vancouver from its resemblance in situation to Dungeness onthe British Channel. The harbor of this place, like that of PortAngeles, is formed by a long sand-spit that curves out from the shore. On account of this resemblance, Vancouver gave to Port Angeles the nameof False Dungeness, thinking it might be mistaken for the other. Butthis name has been dropped, and the more poetical designation of theSpaniard retained. The pious Elisa called the long-pointed sand-spit atDungeness "the Point of the Holy Cross. "

The great body of water north of Vancouver's Island, which had not yetreceived its name, he called _Canal de Nuestra Señora del Rosario_ (theChannel of Our Lady of the Rosary). When Vancouver, in the followingyear, gave his own name to the island, he called this body of water theGulf of Georgia, in honor of George III. , the reigning king of England. The name given by Elisa is still retained by the strait east of the DeHaro Archipelago. 

The next place at which we stopped was Port Townsend. This was named, byVancouver, Marrowstone Point, from the cliff of marrowstone at the headof the peninsula; but this name was afterwards given to the headland onthe opposite side of the entrance to Port Townsend Bay, to thesouth-east of the town, and the name of Townshend, one of the lords ofthe Admiralty, was given to the bay. The town afterwards took the samename, dropping the _h_ from it. Admiralty Inlet commences here, and wasnamed by Vancouver in honor of the Board of Admiralty for whom hesailed. Hood's Canal was named for another of the lord-members of theBoard. 

Opposite, across the inlet, to the north and east, lies Whidby Island, which Vancouver named for one of his lieutenants. It is a pity it couldnot have had some more poetic name, it is so beautiful a place; it isfamiliarly known here as the "Garden of the Territory. " It was formerlyowned and occupied by the Skagit Indians, a large tribe, who had severalvillages there, and fine pasture-grounds; their name being stillretained by the prominent headland at the southern extremity of theisland. I heard one of the passengers remark that there were formerlywhite deer there. I strained my eyes as long as it was in sight, hopingto see one of these lovely creatures emerge from the dark woods; but invain. Wilkes says that the Skagit Indians had large, well-built lodgesof timber and planks. But, since so many tribes have been swept away bythe small-pox, most of them have lost their interest in makingsubstantial houses, feeling that they have so little while to live. North of Whidby is Fidalgo Island, named for a Spanish officer. Betweenthem is a narrow passage, called Deception Pass, very intricate and fullof rocks, above and below the water, and most difficult to navigate, --instriking contrast to the waters of the Sound in general. 

We called at Port Ludlow and Port Gamble, the latter on Hood's Canal, near the entrance, --_Teekalet_ being its Indian name. Returning toAdmiralty Inlet, we presently passed Skagit Head, at the entrance ofPossession Sound, so named by Vancouver to commemorate the formaltaking possession, by him, of all the territory around the Straits ofFuca and Admiralty Inlet, on the king's birthday. 

We steamed serenely on, over the clear, still water, to Port Madison, and then crossed the inlet to Seattle. Thence we proceeded south, andpassed Vashon Island, which has many attractive features. Quartermaster's Harbor, at the southern end, is a lovely place; andbeautiful shells and fossils are to be found there. Occasionally we cameacross a great boom of logs, travelling down to some sawmill; or acrested cormorant, seated on a fragment of drift, sailed for a while inour company. We passed on through the "Narrows, " and entered Puget Soundproper, named for Peter Puget, one of Vancouver's lieutenants, whoexplored it. 

All Vancouver's friends, patrons, and officers--lieutenants, pursers, pilots, and pilot's mates--are abundantly honored in the names scatteredabout this region. He appears, too, to have had a good appreciation ofnature, and praised, in his report, the landscape and the flowers. Heregarded somewhat, in his nomenclature, the natural features of thecountry; as in Point Partridge, the eastern headland of Whidby Island;Hazel Point, on Hood's Canal; Cypress Island, one of the San Juangroup; and Birch Bay, south of the delta of Fraser River. 

The Spanish explorers in this region do not seem to have taken muchpains to record and publish the result of their discoveries. Vancouverheld on to his with true English grip, and often supplanted their namesby others of his own choosing. 

At night we reached Steilacoom, where there was formerly a militarypost. It has an imposing situation, with a fine mountain view; and thereare some excellent military roads leading from it in various directions. 

We spent a pleasant day at Olympia, which lies at the southern extremityof the Sound, and resembles a New-England village, with its maplesshading the streets, and flower-gardens. It has an excellent class ofpeople, as have the towns upon the Sound in general; and the evidencesof taste and culture, which are continually seen, are one of thepleasantest characteristics of this new and thinly settled part of thecountry. 

There are no sawmills on the Straits of Fuca, and the slightsettlements along its shores have scarcely marred their primitivewildness and beauty. The original forest-line is hardly broken; the deerstill come down to the water's edge; and the face of the country hasapparently not changed since Vancouver, nearly a hundred years ago, stooped to gather the May roses at Dungeness; or Juan de Fuca, twocenturies earlier, "sailed into that silent sea, " and looked round atthe mountains, --not less beautiful, though more imposing, than thosethat lay about his own home on the distant Mediterranean. 

 DECEMBER 10, 1869. 

We have just seen an English gentleman who came over to this country forthe purpose of ascending Mount Baker, first called by the Spaniards_Montaña del Carmêlo_. He was three years in trying to get a smallcompany to attempt the expedition with him. Indians do not at allincline to ascending mountains; they seem to have some superstitiousfear about it. I believe this mountain has never been explored to anyextent. He describes the colors of the snow and ice as intenselybeautiful. He has travelled among the Alps, but saw an entirely newphenomenon on the summit of Mount Baker, --the snow like little tonguesof flame. In the deep rifts was a most exquisite blue. On the last day'supward journey, they were obliged to throw away all their blankets, --asthey were not able to carry any weight, --and depend on chance for thenight's shelter. How well Fate rewarded them for trusting her! Theyhappened at night upon a warm cavern, where any extra coverings wouldhave been quite superfluous. It was part of the crater, but they sleptquietly notwithstanding. 

 JANUARY 15, 1870. 

We have now a little Chinese boy to live with us; that is, he representshimself as a boy, but he seems more as if he were a most ancient man. Hemight have stepped out of some Ninevite or Egyptian sculpture. He islike the little figures in the processions on the tombs, and his face isperfectly grave and unchanging all the time. I feel about him, as I doabout some of the Indians, --as if he had not only his own age, but theage of his race, about him. 

There never could be any thing more inappropriate than that he should benamed "Wing, " for no creature could be farther from any thing light orairy. One reason, I think, why he seems so different from any of hiscountrymen that we have seen, is because he has never lived in a city, but only in a small village, which he says has no name that we shouldunderstand. 

He works in the slowest possible way, but most faithfully andincessantly, and never shows the slightest desire for any recreation orrest. Even the anticipation of the great national Chinese feast, whichis to be celebrated next month, and which occurs only once in a thousandyears, has failed to arouse any enthusiasm in him, and he is apparentlyquite indifferent to it. 

Our goat has taken a great dislike to him, --I think just because he isso different from herself. She is always making thrusts at him with herhorns, and trying to butt him over. But he preserves, even toward her, his uniform sweet manner; calls her a "sheep, " entirely ignoring herrude, fierce ways; leads her to pasture every day, under greatdifficulties; and attempts to milk her, at the risk of his life. Theserenity of these people is really to be envied; they go on their way soperfectly undisturbed, whatever happens. 

 APRIL 30, 1870. 

The tides are very peculiar here. Every alternate fortnight they runvery low, and then the beach is uncovered so far out that we can takelong rides on it, as far as the head of the bay. 

We are very much entertained with seeing the old Indian crones diggingclams. They appear to be equally amused with us, and chuckle withdelight as we pass. It seems very strange to see human beings withoutthe least approach to any thing civilized or artificial, with the singleexception of the old blankets knotted about them with pieces of rope;but when I compare them with civilized women of the same age, who aregenerally helpless, I see that they have a great advantage over them. They are out everywhere, in all weathers, and do always the hardest ofthe work. We meet them often in the woods, so bowed down under the loadsof bark on their backs, that it looks as if the bark itself had a stoutpair of legs, and were walking. Our horse is always frightened, and cannever get used to them. 

We can ride now for hours on the beach, looking at the water on oneside, and on the other at the densely wooded bluffs, now mostbeautifully lighted up by the pink flowering currant. It is like therhodora at home, in respect to coming very early, --the flowers beforethe leaves. At first it is of a delicate faint pink; but as the seasonadvances it becomes very deep and rich in color, and contrasts mostbeautifully with the drapery of light-gray moss, and the dark fir-trees. 

This flower attracts the humming-bird, and furnishes its earliest food. This delicate, tropical-looking little creature is the first bird toarrive; coming often in March from its winter home in California, whereit lives on another species of flowering currant that blooms through thewinter. 

In making some excavations here, there have been found the bones andteeth of the American elephant, and with them a bone made into a wedge, such as the Indians here use in splitting wood; which seems to implygreat antiquity for their race. 

 AUGUST 10, 1870. 

We have a new China boy, Ah Sing, who is very impulsive andenthusiastic, quite a different character from the unemotional Wing. Heis almost too zealous to learn. R. Began to teach him his letters, tomake him contented. I hear him now repeating them over and over tohimself, with great emphasis, while he is washing the clothes. He is sobig and strong, that they come out with great force. A few nights ago, after everybody had gone to bed, he came down past our room, and wentinto the kitchen. R. Followed him to see what was the matter, and, asthe boy looked a little wild, thought perhaps he was going into a fit. He had seized the primer, and was flourishing it about andgesticulating with it; and finally R. , who has a wonderful faculty forcomprehending the Chinese, divined that he had gone to bed without alesson, and could not sleep until he had learned something. 

XI. 

 Rocky-mountain Region. --Railroad from Columbia River to Puget Sound. --Mountain Changes. --Mixture of Nationalities. --Journey to Coos Bay, Oregon. --Mountain Cañon. --A Branch of the Coquille. --Empire City. --Myrtle Grove. --Yaquina. --Genial Dwellers in the Woods. --Our Unknown Neighbor. --Whales. --Pet Seal and Eagle. --A Mourning Mother. --Visit from Yeomans. 

 PORT TOWNSEND, November 18, 1872. 

We had quite a pleasant journey back from the East, and saw some thingswe must have passed in the night on our trip thither. About theRocky-mountain region we saw what appeared to be immense ruins; but theywere really natural formations, resembling old castles, with rampartsand battlements and towers. I could not help feeling as if they mustbelong to some gigantic extinct race. On the wide, solitary plains theywere most imposing. 

At the Laramie Plains, where we stopped a while, we were so blinded bythe glittering crystals of quartz and specks of mica, we could wellunderstand why the name of the Glittering Mountains was first given tothe Rocky-mountain Range. 

We saw at Cheyenne a most curious cactus. Outside, it was only a green, prickly ball; inside, was a deep nest, filled with a cluster of pinkblossoms. 

We looked into the beautiful Blue Cañon--blue with mist. Hundreds offeet below us was the gliding silver line of a stream. 

At one of our stopping-places was a team of buffalo and oxen workingtogether. To see this chief Manitou of the Indians so degraded, was likeseeing a captive Jugurtha. 

We found great changes had taken place within a year between ColumbiaRiver and Puget Sound. Where we used to cross alone, in the deepestsolitude of the forest, there were cars running, gangs of Chinameneverywhere at work, great burnt tracts, and piles of firewood. Once in awhile a stray deer bounded by, and turned back to look at us, withpretty, innocent curiosity. And there were still some of the old treesleft standing, gnarled and twisted, and so thickly coated with moss, that great ferns grew out of it, and hung down from the branches. What apity to destroy the work of centuries, the like of which we shall neversee again!

We saw to-day some of the pretty spotted sea-doves, that have justarrived to spend the winter with us. Puget Sound, with its mild climate, is their Florida or Bermuda. In early spring they return to the rockylagoons of the North, to pair and breed. 

 DECEMBER 15, 1872. 

With our wider range from the hill-top to which we have removed, wenotice more how the appearance of the mountains changes with the changesof the sky. This morning they were all rose-color; and are now soghostly, the snow like shrouds about them. Before, we had only singlechains and solitary peaks; here, we look into the bosom of a mountainouscountry, and every change in the light reveals something new. Where wehave many times looked without seeing any thing, at length somebeautiful new outline appears in faint silver on the distant horizon. Heaven ought to be more real to us for living in sight of what is soinaccessible, and so full of beauty and mystery. 

 MARCH 9, 1873. 

We are very much struck with the mixture of nationalities upon thiscoast. We were so fortunate as to secure last winter the services of asplendid great Swedish girl, the heartiest and healthiest creature Iever saw. There did not seem to be a shadow of any kind about her, norany thing more amiss with her in any way than there is with the sunshineor the blue sky. All kinds of work she took alike, with equal readiness, and never admitted to her mind a doubt or anxiety on any subject. 

We felt sorry enough, when we had had her only three weeks, to have theforeman of the mill come and beg us to release her. It seems they wereengaged to be married when they left Sweden; but, being of thriftynatures, they had agreed to work each a year before settling down inmarriage. The constant sight of her charms proved too much for him, andthey decided that all they needed to begin life together was theirwealth of affection and their exuberant health and spirits. 

Her size may be imagined, when I mention that her lover brought up sixrings in succession, to try to find one big enough to go over herfinger. Finally he squeezed on the largest one he could obtain, as anabsolutely essential ceremony to bind them together, and smiled withdelight to see that it could never be taken off. 

The only help we could find in her place, at such short notice, was aRussian boy, lately arrived from Kodiac. When we first saw him, we werequite disheartened at his appearance, his mouth and eyes were so likethose of a fish, and he seemed so terribly uncivilized. I attempted tointimate that I thought we could not undertake to do any thing with him. He seemed to suspect what I thought, --although he could not understandmy words, --and took up a piece of paper, and wrote some Russian words onit. I asked him what they meant; and he said, "Jesus Christ, he dead; heget up again; men and devils he take them all up. " I supposed the mostcivilized person he had ever seen was the priest; and, as the priest hadtaught him that, he thought it was a kind of introduction for him, andthat I should feel it to be a bond of union between us. I did not feelquite so much as if he were a fish or a seal afterward. All the time, even over the hot cooking-stove, he kept his rough fur cap on his head. His great staring eyes rolled round in every direction; and he looked soutterly uncouth and so bewildered, that I doubted very much if he couldever be adapted to our needs. 

To my great surprise, however, he learned very fast, stimulated by hiscuriosity to know about every thing. What made him appear so verystupid at first was, that he felt so strongly the newness of all hissurroundings. After he learned to talk with us, he interested us verymuch with accounts of his own country, and with the letters he read usfrom his father, an old man of ninety, who had spent his life in chargeof convicts in Siberia. He wrote his father that he was homesick; andthe old man replied: "You homesick--work! work by and by make youstrong!" His letters were directed only: "Son mine--George Olaf. " Heseemed to trust to some one on the way, to take an interest in theirreaching him. 

The boy generally set up his hymn-book in some place where he couldoccasionally glance at it, and chant his Russian hymns, while he wasabout his work. On the other side, the nurse sang Dutch songs to thebaby. 

 JULY 1, 1873. 

We have just returned from a long, rough journey in southern and westernOregon. We crossed the Coast Range of mountains, --not so high andsnow-capped as the Cascades, but beautiful to watch in their variationsof light and shade, always the shadows of clouds travelling over them, and mists stealing up through the dark ravines. A Dutchwoman--ourfellow-passenger--was in ecstasies, exclaiming continually: "Howbeautiful is the land here! How _bracht_ [bright]!"--noticing all thesun-lighted places; but I was more attracted by the shadows. I heardanother hard-looking woman say to a man, that she cried when she saw thehills, they were so beautiful. There was a deep welcome in them;something human and responsive seemed to fill the stillness. In thesesolitary places, remote from all other associations, it seems as ifNature could communicate more directly with us. 

I noticed, more than I ever did before, the difference in the appearanceand bearing of the flowers; how some seemed only to flaunt themselves, and others had so much more character. As we passed a little opening inthe woods, a great dark purple flower, that was a stranger to me, fixedits gaze upon me so that I felt the look, as we sometimes do from humaneyes. Any thing supernatural is so in keeping with these solitaryplaces, I felt as if some one had assumed that form to greet me. Therewere some beautiful new flowers; among them a snow-white iris, which wasvery lovely. It seemed like a miracle that this fair little creatureshould come up so unsoiled out of the rough, black earth. 

We crossed the mountain range through a cañon. The road wound round andround the sides of it, sometimes so narrow that it seemed hardly morethan an Indian trail. We had a true California driver, who shouted outto us every few minutes, to hold on tight, or all to get together on oneside, or something equally suspicious; but dashed on without any regardto danger. We were in constant expectation of being hurled to thebottom; but it quickened our senses to enjoy the beauty about us, tofeel that any moment might be our last. We saw below us great trees thatfilled the cañon. They were so very tall, that it appeared as if, afterhaving grown into what would be recognized everywhere as lofty trees, they had altered their views altogether as to what a tall tree reallyshould be, and started anew. We did not wholly enjoy looking down attheir great mossy arms, stretched out as if to receive us. Everywherewas the most exquisite fragrance, from the Linnæa and other flowers. Atthe bottom was a little thread of a brook. After we passed through thecañon, the brook came out, and went down the mountain side with us. Itwas very lively company. Sometimes it hid from us, but we could tellwhere it was, by the rushing of the water. Then it would appear again, whirling and eddying about the rocks. In some places, its bed was ofpure, hard stone, with basins full of foam. Sometimes the rocks werecovered with dark, rich moss. There were retired little falls in it, that seemed like nuns, so unregarding as they were of all the commotionabout them. Then the whole body of water would gather itself up, andshoot down some rock, and cut like a sword-blade into the still waterbelow. We shall long remember that little, leaping, dancing branch ofthe Coquille, that runs from the Coast Mountains to the sea. 

Upon learning that we were approaching "Empire City, " we attempted ahasty toilet, --as appropriate for entering a metropolis as circumstanceswould permit, --but we were kindly informed that we might spare ourselvesthe trouble, as the place consisted at present of but a single house; acarpenter having established himself there, and, with a far-seeing eye, given the place its name, and started a settlement by building his owndwelling, and a play-house in the woods for his little daughter. 

We spent one night in a myrtle-grove. The trees leaned gracefullytogether, and the whole grove for miles was made of beautiful archedaisles. Coming from our shaggy firs, and the rough undergrowth that isalways beneath them, to these smooth, glossy leaves, and clear, openspaces of fine grass, was like entering fairy-land, or the "good greenwood" of the ballads. I looked for princes and lovers wandering amongthem, and felt quite transformed myself. The driver I regarded as adifferent man from that moment; to think that he should show so muchgood taste as to draw up for the night in that lovely place. 

In coming from the mountain, we had to ride a good deal of the waywithout seeing where we were going; and once we found ourselves with agreat roof over our heads, hollowed out of the solid rock, and coveredwith dripping maiden's-hair. All the rock about was like flint, and worninto strange shapes by the water. 

One day we were accompanied quite a distance through the woods by afemale chief, Yaquina. I think that she is a celebrated woman in Oregon, and that Yaquina Bay was named for her. She was mounted on a littlepony, and riding along in a free and joyous way, looking about at thegreen leaves and the sunshine. I thought of Victoria with her heavycrown, that gives her the sick headache, and wondered how she would liketo exchange with her. 

We were quite interested in some of the people we saw, one of themespecially, --a man whose house had no windows. We felt at first as if wecould not stop with him; but he came out to our wagon, looking so brightand clean, and had such an air of welcome as he said, "We are not verywell provided, but we are very accommodating, " that we at once decidedto stop, particularly as the driver said the horses could not possiblygo enough farther to get to any better place that night. He ushered usin very hospitably, and looking round the room--the chairs being ratherscarce--said, "There are plenty of seats--on the floor. " I saw somebooks on a shelf, and, going to look at them, found "Mill's Logic, " and"Tyndall on Sound, " and several others, scientific and historical. Wefound him, as he said we should, eager to make us comfortable. Henoticed that the baby did not look well, and went out into the woods, and cut down a little tree that he said would do her good, and urged usto take it with us. He said that he was generally called in by hisneighbors, in case of sickness or accident. He had learned to helphimself in most ways, as he came there originally with only fifty centsin his pocket. 

Another old man, at the next stopping-place, made a beautiful picture, as he sat inside his open door, in a great, rough, home-made armchair, with a black bear-skin for a pillow, --a large, strong man, with long, shining, silver hair. We were very much pleased to find that we were tospend the night there, he looked so interesting. All his talk was aboutfights with wild beasts and Indians, and cutting down the big trees, andmaking the terrible roads we had been over. There was a good deal ofrefinement and gentleness, too, about him. He had in his arms a dearlittle child. He had adopted her, he said, because his were all grownup. She seemed like a soft little bird, so timid and clinging. 

When we came to see our accommodations, we were delighted to find everything so clean and agreeable. We expressed our pleasure to him, and hesaid, "Yes; a woman, I think, will go a mile or two farther for a cleansheet; and even a man does not altogether like to be tucked into bedwith a stranger;" which suggests what the customs are there. 

 DECEMBER 20, 1873. 

We were startled to learn, a few days since, that one of our neighborshad been found dead, --a man about whom there had always been a gooddeal of mystery in the village. He lived alone, and never spoke of anyrelations or friends. He was a man of very courteous manners, but onthis point he would allow no questions. There was no one to notify ofhis death, and nobody appeared to claim his property. 

The first time we ever saw him, he was riding in the woods, on ahandsome horse, with a bright scarlet blanket. He looked so picturesque, and there was so much grace and dignity about him, that I felt as if hedid not belong anywhere about here. It seemed as if he might have comeriding out of some foreign land, or some distant age, --like a knightgoing to a tournament. 

When we came to know him, we could not help wondering what could inducehim to live here. He was thought to be Southern, and it was generallysupposed that some difficulties arising at the time of the war hadbrought him here. He seemed disposed to make the best of our dull life, and always had something that interested him to show us, --a new flower, or curious shell, or some pretty Indian child. 

The last time we saw him was Saturday night. It must have been only afew hours before his death, but he appeared in his usual fine health. The next we knew of him was Monday morning, when some men who livednear us said that nothing had been seen of him since his lightdisappeared Saturday night. As he did not open his house, as usual, onSunday, they said to themselves, "He does not like to be disturbed, " andwaited till Monday, when they went to the window; and the dog inside, hearing the noise, came and tore down the curtain, and went back and satdown beside his master, where he lay on the bed, and licked his face;and they saw that he was dead. He was tenderly buried by the people ofthe village, without religious ceremonies; but they dropped little greenbranches into his grave in the way of the Free Masons. I was surprisedat the delicacy of feeling shown in regard to his desire to remainunknown, rude curiosity concerning any thing peculiar being everywhereso common. 

 MAY 20, 1874. 

This afternoon we went out a little farther than usual in our boat, andsaw a herd of whales in the distance, --great free creatures, puffing andsnorting, spouting and frolicking, together. The boatman said that aflap from one of their tails would send our boat clean out of the water, and turned hastily about, hallooing in the wildest way, to keep themoff. 

On our way back we passed some deserted buildings on a sandy point. Weinquired about them, and were told that they were the commencement of acity, originally called "New York;" but, having disappointed itsfounders, the Indian name of _Alki_ (By and By) was given to it inderision. 

We saw in the woods near here some magnificent rhododendrons, ten ortwelve feet tall, covered with clusters of rose-colored flowers. 

One of the boatmen has a pet seal that we sometimes take out in the boatwith us. We put him occasionally into the water, feeling that he must belonging to go; but he always stays near the boat, and comes back if wewhistle to him, and seems quite companionable. Who would have believedthat one of these cold sea creatures could ever have been enticed intosuch intimacy? Our only idea of them, before this experience, had beenof a little dark head here and there in the distance, in the midst ofgreat wastes of water, where, as Lowell says, they--

 "Solemnly lift their faces gray, Making it yet more lonely. "

One of the captains we sailed with told us that he had at one time agray eagle he had tamed when young, that often took coasting-voyageswith him, leaving the vessel occasionally, and returning to it, evenwhen it had sailed many miles; never, by mistake, alighting on anothercraft instead of his. Sometimes, when out on a voyage to San Francisco, it would leave the vessel, and return to his house on Port DiscoveryBay. 

 OCTOBER 15, 1874. 

As we were passing along near the shore to-day, in our boat, we saw anIndian woman sitting alone on the beach, moaning, and dipping her handscontinually in the water. Her canoe was drawn up beside her. We stopped, and asked her if any one was dead. She pointed to a square box[2] in thecanoe, and said, "_mika tenas_" (my child). She said, afterwards, thatshe was as tall as I, and "_hyas closhe_" (so good)!

As the poor Indian mother looked round at the waves and the sky tocomfort her, I thought, what is there, after all, that civilization canoffer, beyond what is given by Nature alone, to every one in deepestneed?

Yeomans, our old Port Angeles friend, called on us to-day. Every yearsince we left there, he has included us in his annual visit to theSeattle tribes. Each time we see him I think must be the last, he looksso very old; but every autumn brings him back, apparently unchanged. Heseems to alter as slowly as the old firs about him. I am surprisedalways at his light tread; he bears so little weight on his feet, butglides along as if he were still in the woods, and would not have a leafrustle. 

 FOOTNOTES:

[2] The crouching position, the favorite one of the Indians in life, ispreserved by them in the disposition of their dead. 

XII. 

 Puget Sound to San Francisco. --A Model Vessel. --The Captain's Relation to his Men. --Rough Water. --Beauty of the Sea. --Golden-Gate Entrance. --San Francisco Streets. --Santa Barbara. --Its Invalids. --Our Spanish Neighbors. --The Mountains and the Bay. --Kelp. --Old Mission. --A Simoom. --The Channel Islands. --A New Type of Chinamen. --An Old Spanish House. 

 SAN FRANCISCO, March 20, 1875. 

We reached here last night, after a rough voyage from Puget Sound. Wehad all our worst weather first. After three or four days came a bright, clear morning, and the captain called me on deck to see the sunrise. Itwas all so changed, so beautiful, so joyous, --all around the exquisitegreen light flashing through the waves as they broke; and as far off aswe could see, in every direction, the water leaping and tossing itselfinto spray. A strong wind had taken the vessel in charge; and it flewswiftly over the water, with no changes needed, no altering of sails, noorders of any kind, and nobody seemed to be about. The captain fixed mea hammock in a sail; and I lay there hour after hour, with no companybut the warm, bright sunshine straying over the deck. I felt as if itwere an enchanted vessel, on which I was travelling alone. 

Cleopatra's barge could not have been more carefully kept. When the mencame out to their daily work, all their spare moments were spent inpolishing and cleaning every little tarnished or dingy spot. At first itused to seem to me like a wanton risk of life, with the vessel rearingand plunging so that we did not dare to stir on deck, to see them climbthe tall masts, and cling there, scraping and oiling them, to bring outthe veining of the wood. Perhaps it was partly as a discipline insteadiness, that they were directed to do it, --to get used to working atsuch a height. What a contrast to the tawdriness of the steamers we hadbeen accustomed to, to see every thing about us made beautiful byexquisite neatness, done chiefly, too, for their own eyes! I saw, then, why the sunshine was so pleasant on the deck; it was because there wasnothing about the vessel out of keeping with the pure beauty of nature. I felt safer, too, to think how all things, small and great, conformedto the laws of Heaven. 

One day I asked the captain if he had many of the same men with him ason the last voyage we took with him. I remembered his pointing out to methen the fair, honest face of a young Swedish sailor at the wheel. Hesaid most of his men made many voyages with him. I spoke of anothercaptain, who told us his men were almost all new every time. He saidthat was generally the master's fault; that a captain should not speakto his men just the same in fair weather and in foul. I looked withinterest, afterward, to see his management of them, and found that, while every thing went on smoothly, he took pains to converse with them, and to become somewhat acquainted with each man. Then, in emergencies, his brief, clear directions were immediately comprehended, and promptlyobeyed. I began to understand the secret of his short voyages (for hisvessel had the reputation of being the fastest sailer between SanFrancisco and the Sound): it was partly from his management of the ship, and partly from his management of the men. 

We started in a snow-storm, and at first every thing seemed to beagainst us. He had told us that March was not generally a very quietmonth on the water. We took a tug-boat to tow us out to the entrance ofthe Straits; but, as the weather grew continually worse, the steamerwas obliged to leave us, with wind dead ahead, and against that we hadto beat out. As soon as we had made Cape Flattery, the wind changed, andbecame what would have been a good wind for getting out, but was justthe opposite of what we wanted for going down the coast. These reversesthe captain received with unruffled serenity; although he dearlydelights in his quick trips, and was ready to seize with alacrity theleast breath in his favor. After all, he made one of his best voyages, by the help of the strong, steady wind that drove him on at the last. Itwas perhaps as much, however, from his vigilance in watching when therewas so little to take advantage of, and seizing all the little bits ofhelp it was possible to get, as it was from the great help of thatpowerful wind; for other vessels that started with us, and even daysbefore us, have not come in yet, and they all had the great wind alike. 

R---- ventured to inquire of the captain one day, when we were beatingabout the mouth of the Straits, as to the feasibility of going intoNeeah Bay, while it was yet possible to do so; but the captain said hepreferred to beat about, and then he was ready to take advantage of thefirst chance in his favor, which he might lose if he were in shelter. 

One day it was more than I could enjoy. The wind roared so loud, and thesound of the waves was so heavy, that I retreated to my berth, and laydown; but I could not keep my mind off the thought of how deep the waterwas under us. After a while I went on deck and sat there again, and thevessel began to plunge so that it seemed as if it were trying to standupon one end. I felt so frightened that I thought I would speak to thecaptain, and ask him if he ever knew a lumber-vessel to tip over; and ifI dared I would suggest that he should carry a little less sail. I knewthat he was once on a vessel that turned bottom upward in the Straits, and he was left on the overturned hull for three days, in a snow-storm, before help came to him. I spoke to him, and he did not give me much ofan answer; but, a little while after, he came to me, and said, "Are youable to go to the forward part of the ship with me? I should like tohave you, if you can. " So he helped me along to the bow, where it seemedalmost too frightful to go, and said, "Kneel down;" and knelt down byme, and said, "Look under the ship. " It was one of the most beautifulsights I ever saw, --such a height of foam, and rainbows over it. Thedark water beside it seemed to be full of little, sharp, shiningneedles. I suppose it was moving so quickly that made the elongateddrops appear so. Then he took me to the other side, that was in shadow;and there the water was whirled into the most beautiful shapes, standingout distinct from each other, from the swiftness of the motion, thatheld them poised, like exquisite combinations of snowflakes, only moreairy. 

Presently he said, "Men don't often speak of these things to each other, but I feel the beauty of it. Nights when the vessel is moving so fast, Icome and watch here for hours and hours, and dream over it. " When Ithought about it afterward, I wondered how he could know that the way toanswer my fear was to show me what was so beautiful. I was not afraidany more, whatever the vessel did. 

Those three days and nights of lonely watching, floating about in theStraits, must have been a great experience to him, and made himdifferent from what he would otherwise have been; certainly differentfrom most men. 

Before sunrise, yesterday morning, we passed the "Seal-Rocks;" as thelight just began to reveal a little of the dark, dreamy hills on eachside of the long, beautiful entrance to the harbor. A flood of lightfilled it as we entered, and it must have looked just as it did when itwas first named the "Golden Gate. " All along, for miles, the waterthrows itself up into the air, and falls in fountains on the rockyshore. I cannot conceive of a more beautiful harbor in the world; and, as we were two or three hours in coming from the sea up to the city, wehad time enough to enjoy it. 

The southern headland of the entrance is Point Lobos (_Punta de losLobos_, Point of Wolves); the northern, Point Bonita (Beautiful Point). 

 MARCH 25, 1875. 

We could never have stepped out of our wilderness into a stranger citythan this. From the variety of foreign names and faces that I see in thestreets, I should think I were travelling over the whole world. On oneside of us lives a Danish family, on the other a French. I walk alongand look up at the signs, --"Scandinavian Society;" "Yang Tzy Associationof Shanghae;" "Nuevo Continente Restaurant Mejicano;" "Angelo Beffa, Helvetia Exchange, " with the white cross and plumed hat of Switzerland. One street is all Chinese, with shiny-haired women, and little mandarinswith long cues of braided red silk. The babies seem to be dressed inimitation of the idol in the temple; their tight caps have the sametinsel and trimmings, and the resemblance their little dry faces bear toit is very curious. 

Next to "Tung Wo, " "Sun Loy, " and "Kum Lum, " come "Witkowski, ""Bukofski, " "Rowminski, "--who keep Russian caviar, etc. Some day, whenwe feel a little tired of our ordinary food, we think of trying thecaviar, or perhaps a gelatinous bird's nest, for variety. 

Besides the ordinary residents, we meet many sailors from the hundredsof vessels always in the harbor, --Greeks, Lascars, Malays, and Kanakas. Their picturesque costumes and Oriental faces add still more to theforeign look of the place. 

In the midst of the greatest rush and confusion of one of the principalbusiness streets, stands a man with an electrical machine, bawling instentorian tones, "Nothing like it to steady the nerves, and strengthenthe heart, "--ready, for a small fee, to administer on the spot a currentof greater or less intensity to whoever may desire it. The contrast ismost ludicrous between the need that undoubtedly exists for some suchquieting influence, and the utter inefficacy of it, if applied, undersuch circumstances. 

 OCTOBER 20, 1875. 

We have just returned from Santa Barbara. How buoyant the air seems, andhow brisk the people, after our languid, dreamy life there! I, who wentthere in robust health, spent six months in bed, for no other reason, that I could understand, than the influence of the climate. Perhaps, onhomoeopathic principles, as Santa Barbara makes sick people well, itmakes well people sick. A physician that I have seen since coming heretells me that he went there himself for his own health, and was so muchaffected by the general atmosphere of sickness, that he was obliged toreturn. It is a depressing sight, certainly, to see so many feeble, consumptive-looking people about, as we did there. Where we lived Ithink it was also malarious, from the _estero_ that winds like a snakeabout the lowlands near the bay. The favorite part of the city is nearthe foot-hills. It is probably more healthful there, but we cannot livewithout seeing at least one little silver line of the sea. So we took upour abode in the midst of the Spanish population, near the water. 

We found it very difficult to get any one to help us in our work, although we had supposed that in the midst of poor people we should befavorably situated in that respect. We were told, however, that thetrue Castilian, no matter how poor, never works; that we might perhapsfind some one among the Mexicans to assist us. 

Our neighbors were quite interesting to watch, and we were pleased withthe simplicity of their lives. They had no apparent means of support, unless it might be lassoing and taming some wild mustangs, which theywere sometimes engaged in doing; but this seemed to be more of arecreation than a business with them. They were never harassed norhurried about any thing. They lived mostly outside their little darkdwelling, only seeking it at noon for a _siesta_. In the morning theyplaced a mat under the trees, and put the babies down naked to play onit, shaking dawn the leaves for play-things. Sometimes they cut a greatpiece of meat into narrow strips, and hung it all over our fence to dry. This dried meat, and melons, constituted a large part of their food. Theold mother was called _Gracia_, but she could never in her youth havebeen more graceful than now. She was as picturesque still as she couldever have been, and perfectly erect. She wore a little black cap, like apriest's cap, on the top of her head, and her long gray hair floated outfrom it over her shoulders; and, with her black mantle thrown asgracefully about her as any young person could have worn it, we used tosee her starting out every morning to enjoy herself abroad. She appearedone morning at our window, before we were up, with her arms full ofroses covered with dew, eager to give them to us while they were sofresh. 

We noticed her sometimes out in the yard, preparing some of the familyfood, by the aid of a curious flat stone supported on three legs, and astone pestle or roller, --a very primitive arrangement. Kneeling downupon the ground, she placed her corn, or Chili peppers--or whateverarticle she wished to grind--upon the stone; and, taking the hand-stone, she rolled it vigorously back and forth over the flat surface, crushingup the material, which fell off at the lower end into a dish below. Wesaw her making _tomales_, composed of bruised green corn, --crushed bythe process just described, --mixed with chopped meat, and seasoned withChili peppers or other pungent flavoring, and made up into slenderrolls, each enveloped in green-corn leaves, tied at the ends, and bakedin the ashes, --resulting in a very savory article of food. 

Our only New-England acquaintances at Santa Barbara had evidentlymodified very much their ideas of living. We found them with barefloors; a great bunch of pampas grass, and a guitar hanging against thewall, in true Spanish fashion; the room being otherwise mostly empty. 

We had on one side the dark Santa Ynez Mountains, and on the other thesea. The mountains are not very high but bold in their outlines; and thenumber of crags and ravines gives them a beautiful play of light andshadow. Very early one morning I saw a great gray eagle fly overhead, back to his home in their dark recesses. Some of the slopes are coveredwith grape-vines, and some with olive-trees. Far up in the hollows canbe seen the little white houses of the people who keep the bee-ranches. They live up so high because the flowers last longer there. Themountains form a semicircle on one side of the town; on the other is thebeach. An immense bed of kelp, extending for miles and miles along theshore, forms the most beautiful figures, rising and falling as it floatson the water, --so gigantic, and at the same time so graceful. It is ofevery beautiful shade of pale yellow and brown. In winter the galessometimes drive it shoreward in such vast quantities that vessels arecompelled to anchor outside of it. 

There is an old mission there, built in the Moorish style, where allvisitors are hospitably received by the Franciscan friars in charge. This mission, like all those we have seen, has a choice situation, sheltered from wind, and with good soil about it. The old monks knew howto make themselves comfortable. Their cattle roamed over boundlesspastures, herded by mounted _vaqueros_; their grain-fields ripened undercloudless skies; their olive-orchards, carefully watered and tended bytheir Indian subjects, yielded rich returns. 

We made the acquaintance of a gentleman from Morocco, who says that theclimate there is almost the same as that of Santa Barbara. I suppose thesimoom we had there in the summer was a specimen of it. A fierce, hotwind blew from the Mojave desert. There was no possibility of comfort inthe house, nor out of it. We could escape the storm of wind and dust bygoing in, but there was still the choking feeling of the air. Theresidents of the place could say nothing in defence of it, --only thatdid not occur often. 

We are told that on the 17th of June, 1859, there was much more of agenuine simoom. So hot a blast of air swept over the town as to fill thepeople with terror. This burning wind raised dense clouds of fine dust. Birds dropped dead from the trees. The people shut themselves up intheir thick adobe houses. The mercury rapidly rose to 133 degrees, andcontinued so for three hours. Trees were blighted, and gardens ruined. 

Sailors approaching the coast in a fog can recognize the Santa BarbaraChannel by the smell of bitumen which floats on the water. Some of theold navigators thought their vessels were on fire when they noticed it. It gives a luminous appearance to the water at night. 

On one side of Santa Barbara is a great table-land, called the _Mesa_, where there is always a sea-breeze that blows across fields of grain andfragrant grass. That would be a beautiful place to live, but there is nowater. The experiment of artesian wells is about being tried. 

From the _Mesa_ we looked off to the channel islands, --Santa Cruz, SantaRosa, San Miguel, and Anacapa, --bold, rocky, and picturesque. Anacapawas formerly a great resort for the seal and otter; and the natives fromAlaska came down to hunt them, and collected large quantities of theirvaluable skins. The island is of sandstone, all honeycombed withcavities of different sizes, sometimes making beautiful arches. There isno water on this island, and only cactus and coarse grass grow there. Others of the group have wood and water, and settlements of fishermen. On some of them, interesting historical relics have beendiscovered, --supposed to be the remains of a temple to the sun, withidols and images. There are also beautiful fossils and corals andabalone shells. 

It was hard to make up our minds to leave so lovely a place; but as Ilooked back, the last morning, to fix the picture of it in my mind, Isaw the little white clouds that come before the hot wind, rising abovethe mountains, and was glad that we were going. Two immense columns ofsmoke rose out of the cañons, and stood over the place, like genii. Inthe dry weather it seems that the mountains are almost always on fire, which modifies what is called the natural climate of Santa Barbara, soas to make it very uncomfortable. Its admirers must come from some worseplace, --probably often from the interior; no one from Puget Sound everpraises it. We met several families from that region; and they were allanxious to get back to the clear mountain atmosphere of their northernclimate, which is as equable as that of Santa Barbara, though fardifferent in character. 

We saw there some Chinese quite unlike any that we have met before. Wehave heard that most of those who come to the Pacific Coast are of aninferior kind, chiefly Tartars. There we saw some quite handsome ones, who had more of an Arab look, and had also elegant manners, --one, especially, who had a little office near us. On the birthday of theEmperor of China, his room was ornamented with a picture of Confucius, before which he burned scented wood; and hanging over it was anair-castle, with the motto, "God is Love. "

We visited one day an interesting-looking old house, near our quarter ofthe town, to see if we could live in it. It was one of the finest therebefore the place became Americanized, and belonged to an old Spanishdon. It stands in the centre of spacious and beautiful grounds, and theavenue leading to it is bordered with olive-trees, which were in bloom. There was a curious, delicate fragrance in the air, quite new to me, which I attributed to them. It was as different from all other odors, astheir color is from that of all other trees. They have a little greenishblossom, something like a daphne, and the foliage is of beautiful shadesof gray-green, from an almost black to light silvery color. They seemlike old Spaniards themselves, they have such an ancient, reserved look. Two magnificent pepper-trees, with their light, graceful foliagetrailing from the branches, stand near the door. The house is shut inwith dark heavy porches on all sides, and covered with vines. Thewindows are in such deep recesses, owing to the great thickness of thewalls of the house, that the rooms were but dimly lighted, although itwas early in the afternoon. Some of the windows are of stained glass, and others of ground glass, to lessen the light still more. It is anadobe house; and the walls are so damp that I gave up all idea of livingin it, as soon as I laid my hand on them. The Spaniards, I see, allbuild their houses on a plan that originated in a hot country, where theidea of comfort was all of coolness and shade. This house, and the oneopposite where we lived, are covered with passion-flowers. Near thelatter are two dark evergreen-trees, --the Santa Cruz spruce, --trimmed soas to be very stiff and straight, standing like dark wardens before thedoor. There is a hedge of pomegranate, with its flame-like flowers, which seem to be filled with light. The pepper-tree abounds in SantaBarbara, and the eucalyptus is being planted a good deal. It has aspecial power to absorb malaria from the air, and makes unhealthy placeswholesome. 

XIII. 

 Our Aerie. --The Bay and the Hills. --The Little Gnome. --Earthquake. --Temporary Residents. --The Trade-Wind. --Seal-Rocks. --Farallon Islands. --Exhilarating Air. --Approach of Summer. --Centennial Procession. --Suicides. --Mission Dolores. --Father Pedro Font and his Expedition. --The Mission Indians. --Chinese Feast of the Dead. --Curious Weather. 

 SAN FRANCISCO, October 30, 1875. 

We have found a magnificent situation. Our little house is perched onsuch a height, that every one wonders how we ever discovered it. Thesite of the city was originally a collection of immense sandhills, onthe sides and tops of which the houses were built, many of them beforethe streets were laid out and graded. When the grades were finallydetermined, and the hills cut through, --as some of them were, --houseswere often left perched far above, on the edge of a cliff, and almost asinaccessible as a feudal castle. I feel as if ours might be an eagle'snest, and enjoy the wildness and solitude of it. So does our Scotchshepherd dog, who has been used to lonely places. Sometimes, just as thesun is rising, we see him sitting out on the sandhills, looking aboutwith such a contented expression that it seems as if he smiled. He openshis mouth to drink in the wind, as if it were a delicious draught tohim. 

The hills are covered with sage-brush, full of little twittering birds. My bed is between two windows, and they fly across from one to theother, without minding me at all. Opposite is Alcatraz, a fortifiedisland, but very peaceful-looking, the waves breaking softly all aroundit. It has still the Spanish name of the white pelicans with which itused to be covered. The commander of the fort died since we came here, and was carried across the water, with music, to Angel Island, to beburied. 

Across the bay is a low line of hills, with softly rounded outlines. They are of pale russet color, from the red earth, and thin, driedgrass, that covers them. Farther to the north is Mount Tamalpias, withsharper outlines. 

 NOVEMBER 8, 1875. 

The China boys generally refuse to come out here to live with us, sayingit is "too far, too far. " The unsettled appearance of this part of thecity does not please them. To-day we succeeded in securing a small one. He is a curious-looking little creature, with a high pointed head, stiff, black hair, and small, sparkling eyes. He seems like a littlegnome, and might have been living in the bowels of the earth, in minesand caverns, with black coal and bright jewels about him. Before hewould agree to come, he said he must go and consult the idol in thetemple. He burned little fragrant sticks before him; but how he divinedwhat his pleasure might be, I could not tell. 

We hesitated about taking him, considering his very stunted appearance;but he said, "Me heap smart, " and that settled it. "Heap" must be a wordthe Chinese have picked up at the mines. It is in constant requisitionin any attempt to converse with them. 

Last night we had a heavy shock of earthquake. How different it is frommerely reading that the crust of the earth is thin, and that there isfire under it, to feel it tremble under your feet! I was glad to haveone thing more made real to me, that before meant nothing. It was astrange, deep trembling, as if every thing were sliding away from us. 

 NOVEMBER 18, 1875. 

It gives one a lonesome feeling to see how many people here leadunsettled lives, looking upon some other place as their home. Even thechildren, hearing so much talk about the East, seem to have an idea thatthey really belong somewhere else. One of our little neighbors said tome, "I have never been home;" although she, and all her grown-upbrothers and sisters, were born and brought up here. Many of the customsof the place are adapted to a temporary way of living. In most parts ofthe city, it would be hard to find a street without signs of "Furnishedrooms to let. " Besides innumerable restaurants, a flying kitchen travelsabout, with every thing cooking as it goes along, and clean-looking men, with white aprons, to serve the food; one ringing a bell, and lookingout in every direction, to see what is wanted. 

The numerous windmills, for raising water, give the city a lively look. The wind keeps them always in motion. The constant whirring of thewheels, and the general breezy look of things, distinguish this placefrom all others that I have seen. Sir Francis Drake, entering the baynearly three hundred years ago, refers, with great delight, to "a frankewind, " that took him "into a safe and good baye. " There was, for a longtime, some doubt as to which of several ports he made. I think thatmention of the wind settles it. The identical wind has been blowing withundiminished vigor ever since. In summer (the time he was here), it willcarry a vessel in against the strongest tide. 

The city is built mostly of wood. The absence of foliage, and theneutral color of the houses, give the streets a dull gray look, here andthere redeemed by the scarlet geranium, which, if not a native, is mostthoroughly naturalized, --it grows so sturdily, even in the poorestyards. 

 APRIL 30, 1876. 

We had a long ride out to the Seal-Rocks, past great wavy hills, withpatches of gold, brighter than the dandelions and buttercups are athome. This was the eschcholtzia, or California poppy. Occasionally wepassed great tracts of lupine. The lowland was a sea of blue iris. 

Suddenly, as we surmounted a height, the ocean rolled in before us, lineafter line of breakers, on a broad beach. When we reached Point Lobos wesaw the two great rocks, far out in the water, covered with brown sealsthat lay in the sun like flocks of sheep, and little slippery, shiningones all the time crawling up out of the water, and dropping back again. As the vessels pass out of the bay, they go near enough to hear thembark; but nothing frightens them away, nor discomposes them in theleast, although they are only a few miles from the city, and have agreat many visitors. They are protected by law from molestation. 

We looked off to the Farallon Islands, which are one of the chieflandmarks for vessels approaching the Golden Gate. There was formerly asettlement of Russians there, who hunted the seal and the otter. Theseislands are still a great resort for seals, also for cormorants andsea-gulls; and the large speckled eggs of the birds are gathered inquantities, and brought to the San Francisco market for sale. They werecalled by the Spaniards "_Farallons de los Frayles_" (Islands of theFriars), _farallon_ being a sharp-pointed island. 

There is a marvellous exhilaration in the air. The enthusiastic BayardTaylor said, that, in his first drive round the bay, he felt like JuliusCæsar, Milo of Crotana, and Gen. Jackson, rolled into one. It is anacknowledged fact, that both men and animals can work harder and longerhere, without apparent injury or fatigue, than anywhere on the Easterncoast. We have heard it suggested that the abundant actinic rays in thedry, cloudless atmosphere are the cause of this invigoration, and alsoof the unusual brilliancy of the flowers. 

 JUNE 1, 1876. 

The only way in which we know that summer is coming is by the morechilling winds, the increased dust, the tawny color of the hills, andthe general dying look of things. Every thing is bare, sunny, and sandy. 

We are surrounded with great wastes of sand, which the wind drivesagainst the house, so that it seems always like a storm. Sometimes, whenI sit at work at the window, a gopher comes out of the sandhill, andsits down outside it. His company makes me feel still more remote fromall civilized things. 

 JULY 4, 1876. 

We had a splendid Centennial procession. Things that we imitate at homeare all real here. Instead of having our own people dressed up inforeign costume, we have Italians, French, Swiss, Russians, Germans, Chinese, Turks, etc. , all ready for any occasion. The newspapersmentioned as a remarkable fact, that there were no suicides for a weekbeforehand; every one seemed to have something to look forward to. 

The night before the celebration, the French residents built up a greatarch, as high as the highest buildings, with fine decorations, for theprocession to pass under. Some doubt was expressed about the Germansliking to pass beneath the French arch; so three thousand Germans, toshow their good-will, went and sung the Marseillaise under it. 

The Jews have the handsomest church in San Francisco, which theydecorated with the greatest enthusiasm, and had Centennial services, inwhich they said that they, of all people in the world, ought toappreciate America, as, before they came here, they were outcastseverywhere, while here they were unmolested and prosperous. 

I liked best in the procession the Highlanders, who were real Scotchmen, in plaids, and bonnets with eagle feathers. Every one had a claymore byhis side, and a thistle on his breast; and there were pipers playing onbagpipes to lead them. 

There are a great many Germans in San Francisco, and the brewers had acar dressed with yellow barley and other ripe grains. The great fat menlooked so full of enjoyment, it was really picturesque to see them, under the nodding grain. For the first time in my life I appreciatedthem, as I saw how poorly a thin man would convey the idea of comfort. There are a good many Italian fishermen here too. They are always justfit for processions, without any alteration whatever; their pretty greenboat "Venezia, " and their Captain Cæsar Celso Morena, seem made for it. They had Roman guards, in golden scale armor. The California Jaegerswith their wild brown faces, that seemed to transport us to the greathot plains where they herd and lasso the half-tamed animals, walked tooin the procession; and the baby camel, born lately in San Francisco, agreat pet. They were led by the silver cornet band, whose music wasexquisitely clear and sweet. 

 AUGUST 2, 1876. 

In this homeless city, built upon sandhills, and continually desolatedby winds, it is no wonder that the blue bay looks attractive, especiallyto any one thrust aside in the continual vicissitudes of this unsettledlife. The first news we heard, on our return from Santa Barbara, wasthat Ralston, the great banker, and one of the chief favorites in sociallife, had sought the calm of its still depths as better than any thinglife could offer. How serenely the water lay in the sunshine, as welooked at it, hearing this news, which had stirred the city to itsutmost! Here all secrets are guarded, all perplexities end. The passionfor suicide seeks mostly this pathway, though there is an unprecedentednumber of intentional deaths of all kinds. 

This morning's paper records the suicide of a Frenchman, who halfreconciled me to his view, by the cheerful, intelligent way in which hespoke. He left a letter stating that he died with no ill feeling towardany one, and full of faith in God as a Father; that he did not considerthat he was to blame for what he was about to do, as he had tried invain to get work, --probably because he was wholly deaf. He made solittle fuss about what almost every one would have considered a terriblecalamity, --that his life should end in this way, --that it seemed a pityit could not otherwise have been made known what kind of a man he was. He gave a little account of himself, beginning, "I was born in theprovince of Haute Vienne, in France, and have lived mostly at themines, " going on to speak as quietly of what he was about to do, as hemight if he were going to move from one town to another, not havingsucceeded in the first; ending by saying, "I have taken the poison, --anacid taste, but not disagreeable. " He made only one request, --that apackage of old letters should be laid on his breast, and buried withhim. A valuable member of society might have been saved, if the resultin his case could have been the same as with a man we knew in SantaBarbara, who, becoming discouraged by continual rheumatism, combinedwith poverty, took a large dose of strychnine, with suicidal intent, but, to his astonishment, was entirely cured of his rheumatism; and thenotoriety he acquired presently procured him an abundance of work. 

In the winter a man who called himself Professor Blake, a "mind-reader, "gave some exhibitions of his power, which were considered wonderful. Itmight have been better for him, however, not to know what peoplethought, as it proved. A few weeks ago a man was discovered dead, withthis letter beside him: "I die of a weary and a heavy heart, but of asound mind. If there should be one or two persons to whom I should beknown, let them, out of charity to the living, withhold their knowledge. Should my eyes be open, close them, that I may not chance, even indeath, to see any more of this hated world. " Notwithstanding his wish, of course every effort was made to find out who he was; and it proved tobe this "mind-reader. "

These cases are very depressing to think of; only that it makes one feelmore certain of another life, to see how unfinished and unsatisfactorysome things are here. 

 SEPTEMBER 6, 1876. 

I have found two beautiful places to visit, --the old Spanish graveyardof the Mission Dolores, and Lone Mountain Cemetery. They have long, deepgrass, and bright, exquisite flowers. On the waste tracks about thecemetery, I can still find the fragrant little _yerba buena_ (goodherb), from which the Spanish Fathers named the spot where San Francisconow stands, in the primitive times, long before gold was discovered. Thecross on the summit of Lone Mountain, erected by the Franciscan friars, is quite impressive from its height and size. It is seen from all partsof the city. 

The Mission Dolores (Mission of our Lady of Sorrow) is south of thecity, sheltered from the wind, with a clear stream flowing near. Thefathers displayed their customary shrewdness in the selection of thissituation. The bleak sandhills to the north they left for the futurecity, and settled themselves in this pleasant valley. The pioneermissionary of Northern California--Father Junipero Serra, that rigorousold Spaniard who used to beat his breast with stones--establishedhimself here, with his Franciscan monks, in the fall of 1776. His oldchurch is still standing, --an adobe building, with earthen floor, thewalls and ceiling covered with rude paintings of saints and angels. 

The Presidio of San Francisco was established in the spring preceding, by a colony sent out by the Viceroy of Mexico, accompanied by a militarycommand. Father Pedro Font came with the expedition. He was a scientificman, and recorded his observations of the country and the people. Justbefore starting, a mass was sung for their happy journey, to the MostBlessed Virgin of Guadalupe, whom they chose for their patroness, together with the Archangel Michael and their Father Saint Francis. 

When they reached the vicinity of the Gila River, the governors ofseveral of the rancherias came out to meet them, with the alcalde, and abody of Pimas Indians, mounted on horses, who presented them with thescalps of several Apaches they had slain the day before. At the nextstopping-place along the river, they were met by about a thousandIndians, who were very hospitable, and made a great shed of greenboughs for them, in which to pass the night. 

Father Pedro observed that the country must formerly have been inhabitedby a different race, as the ground was strewn with fragments of paintedearthenware, which the Pimas did not understand making. He saw also theruins of an ancient building, with walls four and six feet thick. On theeast and west sides were round openings, through which, according to theIndian traditions, the prince who lived there used to salute the risingand setting sun. 

The company travelled on, singing masses, and resting by the way, untilthey reached what Father Pedro called "a miracle of Nature, the port ofports" (San Francisco Bay). He ascended a table-land, that ended in asteep white rock, to admire what he calls the "deliciousview, "--including the bay and its islands, and the ocean, with the_Farallons_ in the distance, of which he made a sketch. He mentionedAngel Island, which still bears that name. The commandant planted across on the steep white rock, as the symbol of possession, and also atPoint Reyes (Point of Kings), and selected the table-land for the siteof the Presidio. Father Font explored the country about the bay, andmade some surveys. He noticed some Indians with launches made of_tules_ (bulrushes), in which they navigated the streams. 

It would have been fortunate for the Indians if all the priests sentamong them had been of as gentle a spirit as Father Pedro. He says, inhis account of this expedition, that they received him everywhere withdemonstrations of joy, with dancing and singing. But, some years after, we hear that the soldiers were sent out from the Presidio to lasso theIndians. They were brought in like wild beasts, immediately baptized, and their Christianization commenced. Kotzebue, one of the early Russianexplorers, says that in his time (1824) he saw them at Santa Claradriven into the church like a flock of sheep, by an old ragged Spaniard, armed with a stick. Some of the more humane priests complained bitterlyof this violent method of converting the heathen, and insisted that allthe Indians who had been brought in by force should be restored "totheir gentile condition. "

In the old Mission of Santa Barbara, we saw some of the frightfulpictures considered so very effective in converting them. One specialpainting, representing in most vivid colors the torments of hell, wassaid of itself alone to have led to hosts of conversions; but a pictureof paradise, in the same church, which was very subdued in itstreatment and coloring, had failed to produce any effect. 

The services of the Indians belonged for life to the missions to whichthey were attached. They were taught many useful things. They wateredand kept the gardens and fields of grain, and tended the immense herdsof cattle that roamed over the hills. Traders came to the coast to buyhides and tallow from the ranches and the missions, and the product oftheir fields. For seventy years, these old monks, supported by Spain, were the rulers of California. Spain's foreign and colonial troubles, however, led her to appropriate to other purposes the "Pious Fund" bywhich the missions were maintained. Jealousy of their growing power, andrevolutions in Mexico, hastened their downfall. The discovery of gold in1848 introduced the element which was to prove their final destruction. 

It is a curious fact that the first adventurer who ever set foot on thissoil, Sir Francis Drake, although he was here for only a month, repairing his ship, became convinced that there was no earth about herebut had some probable show of gold or silver in it. If news had spreadthen as rapidly as now, in these days of newspapers and telegraphs, itwould not have lain two hundred and seventy years untouched, and thenbeen discovered only by accident. 

 NOVEMBER 3, 1876. 

A few days ago, I wandered on to the solitary Chinese quarter of LoneMountain, and happened upon the celebration of the Feast of the Dead. Hundreds and hundreds of Chinamen were bowing over the graves in thesand. Each grave had on it little bright-colored tapers burning, sometimes large fires beside, made of the red and silver paper they useat the New Year. Each had curious little cups and teapots andchop-sticks, rice, sugar-cane, and roast chicken. I saw some littlewhite cakes, inscribed with red letters, similar to children's Christmascakes with names on them. Every thing that seems nice to a Chinaman wasthere. They were so engrossed in what they were doing, that they took nonotice whatever of my observation of them. At each grave they spread amat, and arranged the food. Then some one that I took for the nearestfriend clasped his hands, and bowed in a sober, reverent way over thegrave; then poured one of the little cups of rice wine out on the sand. It reminded me of the offerings I saw made to the spirit of the deadIndian child, at Port Townsend. Then two dead men were brought out tobe buried, while we stood there; and the instant they were covered withthe sand, the Chinamen called to each other, "fy, fy!" (quick, quick!), --to light the fire, as if it were to guide them on the way, asthe Indians think. They threw into the air a great many little papers. Iasked if those were letters to the dead Chinamen, and they said, "Yes, "--but I am not sure if they understood me. 

It produced such a strange effect, in this wild, desert-looking place, to see all these curious movements, and the fires and the feasts on thegraves, that I felt utterly lost. It was as if I had stepped, for a fewmoments, into another world. 

The Chinamen are so very saving, never wasting any thing, and they haveto work so hard for all their money, and pay such high duty on thethings they import from home, that they would not incur all this expenseunless they felt sure that it answered some end. It is a matter forendless pondering what they really believe about it. They are satisfiedwith a very poor, little, frugal meal for themselves; but on thisoccasion every thing was done in the greatest style. At one place was awhole pig, roasted and varnished; and every grave had a fat, roastedchicken, with its head on, and dressed and ornamented in the mostfanciful manner. The red paper which they use for visiting-cards at theNew Year, and seem to be very choice of then, they sacrificed in themost lavish way at this time. They fired off a great many crackers tokeep off bad spirits. 

Most of the graves were only little sand-mounds for temporary use, untilthe occupants should be carried back to China; but one was a greatsemi-circular vault, so grand and substantial-looking that it suggestedthe Egyptian Catacombs. Over one division of the graveyard, I saw anotice which I could partly read, saying that no woman or child could beburied there. 

The Chinese are so out of favor here now, that the State Government istrying to limit the number that shall be allowed to come. About athousand arrive on each steamer. How foolish it seems to be afraid ofthem, especially for their good qualities! the chief complaint againstthem being that they are so industrious, economical, and persevering, that sooner or later all the work here will fall into their hands. 

 JANUARY 9, 1877. 

We have been having some very strange weather here, --earthquake weather, it is called by some persons. It seems as if it came from internalfires. It has been so warm at night that we could not sleep, even withtwo open windows. 

The chief thought of every one is, "When will it rain?" Prayers areoffered in the churches for rain. It is also the subject of betting; andthe paper this morning said that several of the prominent stockbrokerswere confined to their rooms, with low spirits, on account of thecondition of stocks, caused by the general depression from the dryseason. We watch the sky a good deal. Strange clouds appear anddisappear, but nothing comes of them. To-day, when I first looked out ofmy window, there were two together, before it, most human-like inappearance, that seemed to hold out their arms, as if in appeal; but, asI watched them, they only drew their beautiful trailing drapery afterthem, and moved slowly away. 

There is a curious excitement about this weather, coming in the middleof winter. These extremes of dryness, and this strange heat at thisseason, reversing all natural order, may be one cause of thepeculiarities of the Californians; and they are certainly peculiarpeople. I recently took a little excursion to Oakland, crossing the bayby the ferry, and riding some distance in the cars. A pleasant feelingcame over me as I saw that it was like crossing the Merrimac fromNewburyport to Salisbury; the distance was about as far, and there werethe same low trees and green grass on the opposite side. I felt quite athome, until, on entering the cars, my eyes lighted on this notice, posted conspicuously everywhere: "Passengers will beware of playingthree-card monte, strap, or any other game of chance, with strangers. Ifyou do, you will surely be robbed. " All visions of respectable NewEngland vanished at that sight. 

XIV. 

 Quong. --His _Protégé_. --His Peace-Offering. --The Chinese and their Grandmothers. --Ancient Ideas. --Irish, French, and Spanish Chinamen. --Chinese Ingenuity. --Hostility against the Chinese. --Their Proclamations. --Discriminations against them. --Their Evasion of the Law. --Their Perseverance against all Obstacles. --Their Reverence for their Ancestors, and Fear of the Dead. --Their Medical Knowledge. --Their Belief in the Future. --Their Curious Festivals. --Indian Names for the Months. --Resemblance between the Indians and Chinese. --Their Superstitions. 

 SAN FRANCISCO, February 20, 1877. 

Some time since, we asked the washman to send us a new boy. One evening, in the midst of a great storm of wind and rain, the most grotesquelittle creature appeared at the door, with his bundle under his arm, asif he were sure of being accepted. We thought we must keep him for a dayor two, on account of the weather, and just to show him that he couldnot do what we wanted; but he proved too amusing for us to think ofletting him go. His name is Quong. He is shorter than Margie, who isonly nine, and has much more of a baby face, but a great deal ofdignity; and he assures me, when they go out together, that he shalltake good care of Margie and the baby, and if there is any trouble hewill call the police. We felt a little afraid to trust them with him atfirst, because the Chinese are so often attacked in the streets; but hehas unbounded confidence in the police, and has a little whistle withwhich to call them. It reminds me of Robin Hood; he takes such greatpleasure in making use of it, and comes out so safe from all dangers bythe help of it. 

The first Sunday that he was here, we told him that he could go out fora while, as all the Chinese do on that day. When he came back, I askedhim where he had been. These little boys are all petted a good deal atthe wash-houses, and I supposed he had been there enjoying himself. Buthe said that he went every Sunday to see a small boy that he had chargeof, who was too young to work; that he sent him now to school, but nextyear he should tell him, "No work, no eat;" and, if he did not dosomething to support himself, he should not give him clothes any more. Iremember reading that the Chinese were considered men at fourteen. It isvery comical to see such a little creature assume theseresponsibilities, and take such pride in them. He says that he is ten, but his face is perfectly infantine; and he is a baby too in his plays. He rolls and tumbles about like a young dog or kitten. If it rains, heseems like a wild duck, he is so pleased with it; and then, when the suncomes out, he hardly knows how to express his enjoyment of it; he looksat me with such a radiant face, saying, "Oh, nice sun, nice!" I feelready at that moment to forgive him for every thing that we ever have toblame him for, --such a sun seems to shine out of him; and I feel as ifwe made a mistake to be critical about his little faults, which aremainly attributable to his extreme youth. 

He has lately been away to celebrate the new year. "Going home toChina, " he calls it, because at that time the Chinese eat their nationalfood, and observe their own customs. We told him, before he left, thathe must be sure to come back in two days; but three passed, with no signof him. Then R---- went down to the wash-house, and left word that hemust come directly back. In the course of the afternoon, he walked in. The moment he opened the door, we said to him, very severely, "What foryou stop too long?" But he walked up to me, without a word, and put downbefore me a little dirty handkerchief, all tied up in knots, which Ifinally made up my mind to open. It was full of the most curioussweet-meats and candy, little curls of cocoanut, frosted with sugar;queer fruits, speckled with seeds; and some nuts that looked exactlylike carved ram's-heads with horns. We had to accept this as apeace-offering, and put aside our anger. 

He is much pleased to be where there is a woman. Although he is soyoung, he says that he has lived generally only with men, --Spanish men, he says, where there was "too much tree. " I suppose it was some ratherunsettled place, --a sheep-ranch, perhaps. 

He is so unsophisticated that he will answer all our questions, as theolder ones will not, if they can. I asked him, one day, about theceremonies that I saw at Lone Mountain, --what they burned the red andsilver paper on the graves for; and he said that in the other world theChinamen were dressed in paper, and, if they did not burn some for themon their graves, they would not have any clothes. I told him I saw a boykneel down on a grave, and take a cup of rice wine, and sip a little, and then pour it out on the sand. He said, Oh, no, that he did not drinkany, only put it to his lips, and said, "Good-by, good-by, " because thedead Chinaman would come no more. 

Whenever he speaks of any thing mysterious, we can see, by the darkeningof his face, how he feels the awe of it. One of his friends, in hurryingto get his ironing done, to get ready to celebrate the new year, broughton an attack of hemorrhage of the lungs. Of course, it was necessary tokeep him entirely still, which his companions knew; but, at the sametime, they were so afraid that he might die where he was, that theyinsisted on carrying him to another place, a long way off, which killedhim. For, they said, if he died at the wash-house, he would come backthere; and then all the Chinamen would leave, or they would have to movethe house. His grandmother, the boy said, came back in a blue flame, andasked for something to eat, and they had to move the house; then shecame back to where the house stood before, but could not get anyfarther. 

The Chinese stand in great awe of their grandmothers. In their estimateof women, as in many of their other ideas, they are quite different fromthe rest of the world; with them a woman increases in value as she growsolder. The young girl who is a slave to her mother can look forward tothe prospect of being a goddess to her grandchildren. 

 MARCH 20, 1877. 

Quong observes every thing, and asks endless questions about what hesees. He says that the French and Spanish people here like the Chinamen"too much" (a good deal); and that the "Melicans half likee, half nolikee;" but the Irishmen "no likee nothing, "--seeing so plainly whotheir true enemies are. Many of the principal people here are Irish. OnSt. Patrick's Day, R---- told him that he was going to take Margie tosee the procession, and that he could go too; but he said, with an airof immense superiority, that he did not care to go and see the "whiskeymen;" he would rather stop at home, and do his work. 

I feel now that all my responsibilities are shared. A while ago, R----was obliged to stay out one night till twelve o'clock; and, when he camehome, he found the boy, with his little black head on the kitchen table, fast asleep. When he waked him, and asked him what he was there for, hesaid, that, as every one else was asleep, he staid there to take care ofthe house. On another occasion, when R---- was to be out late again, Itook pains to tell him to go right to bed, as soon as he had washed thedishes. He looked up at me, as if he were going to suggest the mostinsuperable obstacle to that, and asked, "Who fuff the light?" (put itout. )

One thing that I am always very much impressed with, in regard to theChinese, is the feeling of there being something ancient about them, nomatter how young they may be themselves; not only because many of themwear clothes which appear to have been handed down from their remotestancestors, but they have ancient ideas. This boy, although he is of sucha cheerful temperament, seems always to keep his own death in view, asmuch as the old Egyptian kings ever did. He pays a kind of burial-fee, amounting to nearly a quarter of his wages, every month, to some oneappointed by the Chinese company to which he belongs; and when R----remonstrated with him, and told him how foolish and unnecessary it was, and how much better it would be to spend the money for something else, he seemed to regard his remarks with great horror, and said he _must_pay it; to leave off wasn't to be thought of, for then, he said, heshould have "no hole to get into" (meaning no grave), and there would beno apples thrown away at his funeral. 

We one day heard him speaking of one of his countrymen as an IrishChinaman; and, when we asked him what he meant, he said there wereIrish Chinamen, French Chinamen, and Spanish Chinamen. Our ownobservation seems to confirm this idea. We see often among them thelight, careless temperament which marks the French; these are the menwho support the theatres, and patronize the gaming-dens. The grave, serene Spanish is the common type; and, since the hoodlum spirit hasbroken out among the Californians, it has called out a coarse, roughclass among the Chinese, corresponding to the lower grades of the Irish. To this class belong the "Highbinders, "--men bound by secret oaths tomurder, robbery, and outrage. The actual crimes that can be justlycharged against the Chinese in this country are due, almost wholly, tothe spirit that evoked these men. 

Their ingenuity is equal to their perseverance in accomplishing an end. The Six Companies having made a regulation in regard to the wash-houses, that there should be at least fifteen houses between every two of them, one of the washmen was notified that he must give up his business, therebeing only fourteen houses between his and the next establishment. Although the Six Companies' directions are absolute law, he had no ideaof doing this. He carefully examined the fourteen buildings, and foundamong them a deserted pickle manufactory, which he hired for one day, with the privilege of putting up a partition which would divide it intotwo houses, --in that way fulfilling the requirements of the law. 

 APRIL 30, 1877. 

There has lately been a great excitement about the Chinese here, andseveral meetings have been held to consider how to get rid of them; andanti-Chinese processions, carrying banners with crossed daggers, haveparaded the streets. One night the Chinese armed themselves, and went upon to the tops of their houses, prepared to fire on a mob. They issued aproclamation, saying, that they were not much accustomed to fighting (Iremember learning, in the geography, that they dressed themselves inquilted petticoats when they went to battle), but they should sell theirlives as dearly as they could. 

Another proclamation which they sent out was very characteristic ofthem; it showed so good an understanding of the subject, suggesting soartfully that, if the Chinamen were not allowed unlimited freedom tocome here, Americans should not be allowed to go to China. 

In an "Address to the Public" which they recently put forth, theyexplained, that, instead of taking the places of better men, as theyare accused of doing, they considered that, in performing the menialwork they did, they opened the way to higher and more lucrativeemployments for others; saying several times, in their simple, impressive way, "We lift others up. "

In regard to the other chief accusation, --that they do not profit thecountry any, do not invest any thing here, but send every thing home toChina, --they said, "The money that you pay us for our labor, we sendhome; but the work remains for you, "--as, for instance, the PacificRailroad. 

In trying to accumulate arguments against them, the anti-Chinese partyhave made a great deal of the fact that they are bound to companies, whoadvance money for them to come here, and say that the cooly trade islike the slave-trade. One of the anti-Chinese speakers said he helpedmake California a free state, and seemed to think he was employed in thesame meritorious way now. Upon investigation, it proved that many ofthem do mortgage themselves--that is, their services--for a number ofyears, to get here; and that it is often in order that they may supportpoor relatives at home, who would otherwise starve. This shows some oftheir heathen virtues. A good deal of the objection to them seems to beon the ground of their being Pagans; some of the speakers saying that itis "so very demoralizing to our Christian youth, " that they should behere, --quite overlooking a very large class of the population who areworse than Pagans, and vastly more dangerous. 

The idea now seems to be, to drive them away by discriminating againstthem in State and city regulations; as, for instance, by enforcing the"pure-air ordinance, " by which every Chinaman who sleeps where there isless than five hundred cubic feet of air for each person, pays a fine often dollars, but white people sleep as they choose. Then, as they valuetheir cues above all things, and are greatly disgraced if they losethem, --having even been known to commit suicide when deprived ofthem, --an old ordinance is restored, by which every one who is put injail must have his hair cropped close. They are often arrested on falsecharges. Then a special tax is levied on their wash-houses, and a newregulation made, by which no one can carry baskets on poles across thesidewalks; that being the way they carry about vegetables to sell. Allthese little teasing things, and a great many other annoyances whichhave not any pretence of legality, they bear with patience, and seem inall ways to show more forbearance even, and give, if possible, lessground for complaint, than before. 

The poll-tax, which is levied on all males over twenty-one years of age, is rigorously collected from the Chinamen, while no special effort ismade to collect it from the whites. In crossing the ferry to Oakland, they are often pounced upon by the collector, --in many instances whenthey are under age; and, unless they can show a tax receipt, theirtravelling bags or bundles are taken from them, and retained until therequirements of the collector are satisfied. Their wit and shrewdnessavail them, however, to avoid this trouble; and a Chinaman who hasoccasion to cross the ferry can usually borrow the tax receipt of someone who has already paid. This serves as a passport, as it is not easyfor a white man to distinguish them as individuals, on account of theirsimilarity in dress, manners, and general appearance. 

The police, being extremely vigilant in respect to all violations of lawby the Chinese, have sought out their gambling-dens with greatdiligence, and made many arrests. The Chinese, not to bebaffled, --besides resorting to labyrinthine passages, undergroundapartments, barricades of various kinds, and other modes of secludingthemselves, to indulge in their games undisturbed, --have adopted onemedium after another in place of cards, substituting something thatcould be quickly concealed in case the police should surprise them. Atone time they made use of squash or melon seeds for this purpose, cutting on them the necessary devices. These could be much more easilyconcealed about the folds of their loose garments than cards. When thisruse was detected, they made use of almonds in the same way; and, whensurprised, hastily devoured them, leaving not a particle of evidenceupon which a policeman could base an arrest. 

 MAY 10, 1877. 

One of the strongest arguments against the Chinese has been that theycould never affiliate with our people, nor enter into the spirit of ourinstitutions; that they had no desire to become citizens, and had nofamilies here. Now that they have petitioned for common-schoolprivileges for their children, stating how many there are here, and towhat extent they are taxed to support schools, there is a louder outcrythan ever against them, for such audacity. They are slowly assertingthemselves, in different ways, and showing that they understand a gooddeal that we thought they did not. One of them has now protested againstbeing imprisoned for violating the "pure-air ordinance. " The city hasmade a good deal of money by the fines paid on this account, but it hasbeen thought expedient to stop the arrests while this case is beingtried. 

Then they are making an effort against the injustice of the city indiscriminating against them by charging more for laundry licenses wherethe clothes are carried about by hand, than where horses are used; inthis way obliging any one who does a small business to pay more inproportion than one who does a large business. There are a great manylarge French laundries here, that all send about wagons. The Chinesecarry every thing by hand; they seem altogether too meek and timid tohave horses; but, as they adapt themselves to every thing, they havelooked about, and met the difficulty, in part, by securing quite anumber of poor, abject animals, with which they are beginning to appearin the streets. There is no change they are not willing to make; andtheir patience and perseverance are unconquerable, about staying andgoing on with their work. As an Eastern writer said of them: "They bowto the storm, and rise up, and plod on in the intervals. " It is verytrue of them, as we see them here, --so unresisting, and yet soresistless. 

We have lately made the acquaintance of a man who has lived thirty yearsin Shanghae, who explained many of their customs and ideas. He confirmedsome things that our boys had told us, but we understood them betterfrom him. He said that the Chinese have such perfect faith in continuedlife after death, and in a man's increased power in another life, thatit was not an unusual thing for any one who had some great injury toavenge, to kill himself, in order to get into a position to do it moreeffectually. To them a dead man is more important than a living one; andthe one great feature of their religion is the worship of theirancestors. They make a great many offerings to them, --as we saw them doat Lone Mountain. If any one dies at sea, or in a foreign country, wherethere is no friend or relative to do this for him, he becomes a beggarspirit. It is the duty of the Chinese at home to make offerings tobeggar spirits as well as to their own relatives. If any greatmisfortune happens to a man, he thinks he must have neglected oroffended some dead relative, or perhaps one of these beggar spirits; andwill impoverish himself for years, to atone for it by a great feast. They are very much afraid of the spirits, and build their houses withintricate passages, and put up screens, to keep them from seeing whathappens; and they especially avoid openings north and south, as theythink the spirits move only in north and south lines. What is moreimportant than almost any thing in a man's life, is to be placed rightafter his death, --toward the south, that he may receive genial andreviving influences from it; but if he is toward the north, and getschilling influences from that direction, he wreaks his vengeance on hisliving relatives who placed him there. 

We learn a good deal from the boys we have. I should like very much togo into their schools, they are so well taught in many respects. One ofour boys once took some fruit-wax, and modelled a perfect little duck. He said he was taught at school how to do it. He also drew severalanimals with an exceedingly life-like appearance. This early instructionis no doubt the basis of the acknowledged superiority of the Chinese ascarvers in wood and ivory. 

I have often wondered that more of them do not die in coming to aclimate so different from their own, and adopting such new modes of lifeas most of them are obliged to do. But they all seem to have beentaught the rudiments of medicine. A young American boy, if he is sick, has not the remotest idea what to do for himself; but the Chinese boysknow in most cases. We have often seen them steeping their little tincups of seeds, roots, or leaves on the kitchen stove, which they saidwas medicine for some ailment or other, but "Melican man no sabbeChinaman medicine;" and sometimes, when they did not have their ownremedies at hand, I have offered them pellets or tinctures from myhomoeopathic supply, which they could rarely be induced to accept, alleging that "Melican medicine no good for Chinaman. " One of our littleboys went to a Chinese doctor for himself one day, and when he cameback, I asked him what the doctor said. He told me that he pressed withhis finger here and there on his flesh, to see if it rose readily, andthe color came back. I saw that he meant if any one was not very sick, that the flesh was elastic; and I thought it was quite a good test, andone that might perhaps be useful to our doctors. They have one curiousidea in their treatment, which is, that, if any one is sick, he is toeat an additional meal instead of less. Nevertheless, they seem to getwell with this arrangement. 

The belief in a future life, and in improved conditions hereafter, seems to be universal among them. A poor Chinaman was found dead nearus, with a letter beside him, which was translated at the inquest heldover the body. 

 THIRD MONTH, 27th DAY [May 4]. 

 TO MY FATHER AND MOTHER, --I came to this country, and spent my money at the gambling-table, and have not accomplished any thing. Where I am now, I cannot raise money to return home. I am sick, and have not long to live. My life has been a useless one. When you have read this letter, do not cry yourselves sick on my account. Let my brothers' wives rear and educate my two cousins. I wish to be known as godfather to one of them. I desire Chow He, my wife, to protect and assist you. When you both are dead, she may marry if she wishes. In this world I can do no more for you, father and mother. You must look to the next world for any future benefit to be received from me. 

 TONG GOOT LOON. 

 SEPTEMBER 10, 1877. 

The Chinese generally appear unwilling to talk with us about theirreligious customs and ideas, apparently from superstitious feelings. Occasionally we meet with an intelligent one, who readily answers ourquestions, and tells us about many of their festivals celebrated athome, which are not recognized here. Notwithstanding their solemn facesand methodical ways, they are as fond of celebrations as the SanFrancisco people themselves. They celebrate the Festival of the LittleCold, and of the Great Cold; of the Little Snow, and of the Great Snow;of the Moderate Heat, and of the Great Heat. Early in the autumn comesthe Festival of Pak-lo, or the White Dew; later in the autumn, theFestival of Hon-lo, or the Cold Dew. About the time of our harvest moon, the fifteenth day of eighth moon, they celebrate the Festival of theFull Moon, eating moon-cakes, and sending presents to their friends, oftea, wine, and fruits; in February, the Festival of Rain and Water;early in the spring (the sixth day of second moon), the Festival ofEnlivened Insects. On the third day of third moon they celebrate, forthree days and nights, the birthday of Pak Tai, god of the extremenorth; in spring, the birthday of the god of health; in spring also, thegreat Festival of Tsing Ming (Clear and Bright). On this occasion, theyvisit and worship at the tombs. In all great festivals the ancestorsmust share. In early summer occurs the Festival of the PrematurelyRipened. The hour for the offering of each sacrifice is most carefullychosen, --that of the spring sacrifice being at the first glimmering ofdawn. 

This shows as close observation of nature on their part as the Indiansdisplay, and reminds me of the names the Makahs give to the months:December, the moon when the gray whale appears; March, the moon of thefin-back whale; April, the moon of sprouts and buds; May, the moon ofthe salmon-berry; June, the moon of the red huckleberry; November, themoon of winds and screaming birds. The Makahs select the time of thefull moon as an especially favorable one to communicate with the GreatSpirit. 

I do not know whether it is now considered that our Indians are ofOriental origin. It seems at first as if two races could hardly differmore than Indians and Chinese; but, after living long among them, manyresemblances attract our attention. We have seen, occasionally, Indianswith quite Mongolian features, and short, square frames. Flattening thehead among the Indians is considered a mark of distinction, ascompressing the feet is with the Chinese; no slave being allowed topractise either. The reverence of the Indians for the graves of theirfathers approaches the worship of ancestors among the Chinese. Nooutrage is greater to the Indians than to desecrate the burial-places oftheir dead. They often make sacrifices to them, and celebrateanniversaries of the dead with dancing and feasting. The Chinese feasttheir dead at regular intervals, and carry them thousands of milesacross the ocean from foreign countries to rest in their own land atlast. The Manitous (ruling spirits) of earth, air, and water, with theIndians, are, in some respects, like the Shin of the Chinese, --spiritsthat inhabit all nature; but the Shin are inferior deities, not havingmuch power, being employed rather as detectives, --as the kitchen god, orhearth spirit, who at the end of the year reports the conduct of thefamily to Shang-te, the God of Heaven. Both races are firm believers inthe power and efficacy of charms: the Chinaman, in his green-jadebracelet, is demon-proof; the Indian warrior, in a white wolf-skin, rides to certain victory. Both are excessively superstitious, considering that the ruling spirits are sometimes friendly, sometimeshostile; and feel it necessary, in all the commonest acts of theirlives, to be constantly on the watch to guard against maligninfluences, --attributing great power for harm to the spirits of thedead. An Indian, like a Chinaman, will frequently abandon his lodge, thinking some dead relative whom he has offended has discovered himthere. He is afraid to speak the name of any one who is dead, and oftenchanges his own name, that the dead person, not hearing the old namespoken, may not so readily find him. Indians and Chinese are alike inthe habit of changing their names, having one for youth, another formanhood, and a third for old age; taking new names many times in thecourse of their lives, --as after any great event or performance. 

They resemble each other in their infatuation for gambling, --a Chinaman, after all his possessions have been staked and lost, sometimes sellinghimself for a term of years, to keep up the game; or an Indian gamblingaway a hand, an arm, a leg, and so on, and at last the head, until thewhole body is lost at the play, and then he goes into perpetual slavery. The Indians will sometimes gamble away their children, though they areusually very fond of them, --the typical "bad Indian" with them being onewho is cowardly, or who neglects his children. 

XV. 

 Chun Fa's Funeral. --Alameda. --Gophers and Lizards. --Poison Oak. --Sturdy Trees. --Baby Lizards. --Old Alameda. --Emperor Norton. --California Generosity. --The Dead Newsboy. --Anniversary of the Goddess Kum Fa. --Chinese Regard for the Moon and Flowers. --A Shin Worshipper. 

 ALAMEDA, CAL. , April 5, 1878. 

We have left San Francisco, and come across the bay to live. The lastthing I did there was to go to a Chinawoman's funeral. I saw in thepapers that Chun Fa, the wife of Loy Mong, was dead; and he would liketo have all the Christian Chinese and their friends come to the funeral. I thought I would go. Especially at this time, when the Chinese meetwith so much bad treatment, we are glad of an opportunity to show ourgood-will and sympathy; but I did not expect to be so much interested asI was. The columns in the chapel were wreathed with ivy and lilies, andevery thing was very quiet and pleasant in the bright forenoon. One sideof the church was filled with Chinese women and girls. It is very hardto tell which are women, and which are children, they all have suchchildlike faces. I suppose it is because they are so undeveloped. Theiruncovered heads, and smooth, shining black hair, looked to me at firstall exactly alike; all the company seemed of one pattern. But, when Ihad noticed them longer, I saw some variety in their manners andexpressions. To sit there among them, and feel the differences betweenthem and us, and the resemblances, --so much stronger than thedifferences, --was a curious experience. 

It was a school, I found, and Chun Fa seemed to have been the flower ofit. They all mourned very much at losing her. She was the wife of one oftheir principal merchants, --but their wives are often children. She hada sweet, innocent face; and we heard that she was very intelligent, andeager to learn. With her fair, open look, it seemed as if one could havedone a great deal with her in the way of development. 

An American man first made a prayer in Chinese; then they all sang--

 "Shall we gather at the river?"

in English. They sang with so much fervor, that, although it was sounmusical, I felt more like crying than laughing, to think it was forone of those Chinese women who have been so badly spoken of; the papersoften saying that they are all prostitutes, that there are no familiesamong them, and that the California people must purify their State bygetting rid of them. Then a serene-looking Chinaman chanted somethingthat sounded very soothing and musical, and another made a prayer. Thenwe went, each one, and took leave of poor little Chun Fa. I thought Ishould have been willing to have it my funeral, every thing was sogenuine about it; no cant, and nothing superfluous. 

We met with quite a disappointment in leaving San Francisco, to findthat our little Quong could not go with us. We thought we had obtainedleave from the proper patron; but at the last a brother appeared whoclaimed to be superior authority, and forbade his going. As he seemed avery gruff, disagreeable person, and, as the boy said, had never treatedhim kindly, we advised him to disobey him; but he said it would never dofor a little China boy to disobey a father or an older brother; but, when he was old enough, he would take ten dollars, and buy a pistol, andshoot him. 

 APRIL 30, 1878. 

We are only an hour's ride by cars and steamer from San Francisco. It ishard to believe it, it is so wholly different a place. Before us is afield of blue nemophilas. To see them waving in the wind, recalled to mewhat Emerson said about its restoring any one to reason and faith tolive in the midst of nature, --so many trivial cares and anxietiesdisappeared at the sight of it. On the other side, the water rollssoftly up to our very door. We bathe in it, floating about at will inwarm or cold currents. 

The first morning after we moved here, I noticed two small hills andholes, newly dug, beside our door. A curious little head thrust itselfout of one, and two small eyes peered at me. They belonged to one of thelittle underground creatures, called gophers, that we have all about us. They eat roots, and it is almost impossible to cultivate any thing wherethey are. They appeared to have come just because they saw that thehouse was going to be occupied. I think they like human company, onlythey want to keep their own distance. They and the lizards quite animatethe landscape. The gopher's wise, old-fashioned looking head is quite acontrast to that of the lizard, with its eager, inquisitive expression. There is always a little twisted-up head and bright eye, or a sharplittle tail, appearing and disappearing, wherever we look. They spendtheir whole time in coming and going. Their purpose seems to beaccomplished, if they succeed in seeing us, and getting safely away. 

The wagoner who moved us over from San Francisco made some commiseratingremarks concerning me, as he deposited the last load of furniture;saying that it was a good place to raise children, but would be verysolitary for the woman. 

It is a lonely place here, but the water is constant company. As Iwrite, the only sound I can hear is the gentle roll of waves, and nowand then an under sound that seems to come from far-off caverns, --sosoft and so deep. I never lived so close to the water before, so thatits changes made a part of my every-day life. Even when I am so busythat I do not look at it, I feel how the tide is creeping in, filling upall the little inlets, and making all waste places bright and full. 

 MAY 10, 1878. 

We made inquiries of some of the old residents, in reference to thewind, before we decided to come here; but people who live inhalf-settled places, I find, are very apt to misrepresent, --they are soeager for neighbors. How much wiser we should have been to haveconsulted the trees!--they show so plainly that they have fought alltheir lives against a strong sea-wind, bending low, and twistingthemselves about, trying to get away from it. 

We find that where we live is not Alameda proper, but is called theEncinal District, --_encinal_ being the Spanish for _oak_. I do not knowwhether they mean by it the old dusky evergreens, or the poison oakwhich is every where their inseparable companion. Soon after we arrived, we found ourselves severely affected by it. It was then in flower, andwe attributed its strength to that circumstance; but every change itpasses through re-enforces its life, --when it ripens its berries, whenits leaves turn bright, or when the autumn rains begin. Every thingsuits it; moisture or dryness, whichever prevails, appears to be itselement. Thoreau, who liked to see weeds overrun flowers, would haverejoiced in its vigor. We never touch it; but any one sensitive to itsinfluence cannot pass near it, nor breathe the air where it grows, without being affected by it. Alameda seems hardly ready for humanoccupancy yet, unless something effectual can be done to exterminateit. We often see superficial means taken, like burning it down to thelevel of the earth; but what short-sighted warfare is that which givesnew strength after a brief interval! On one account I forgive it manyinjuries, --that it furnishes our only bright autumn foliage, turninginto most vivid and beautiful shades of red. Except for the poison oak, and a few of the long, narrow leaves of the Eucalyptus, that hang likeparty-colored ribbons on the trees, we have no change in the foliagebetween summer and winter; there are always the same old dingy evergreenoaks everywhere about us. 

There are some cultivated grounds and gardens in the neighborhood, buteverywhere interspersed among them are wild fields. The trees have adetermined look, as they stand and hold possession of them. Thecultivated ones that border the streets, in contrast with them, appearquite tame. I find myself thinking of the latter sometimes as if theywere artificial, and only these old aborigines were real; they have somuch more character and expression. I heard a lady criticising Alameda, saying that there were so many trees, you could not see the place. Wehave a general feeling, all the time, as if we were camping out, andeverybody else were camping out too. The trees are scatteredeverywhere; and it is quite the fashion, in this humble part of thetown, for people to live in tents while they build their own houses. These trees are of a very social kind, bending low, and spreading theirbranches wide, so that any one could almost live in them just as theyare. They are a great contrast to the firs which we had wholly around uson Puget Sound. They have strange fancies for twisting and turning. Ihave never seen two alike, nor one that grew up straight. It is notbecause they are so yielding, --they are as stiff and rugged as they canbe, --it must be their own wild nature that makes them like to grow instrange, irregular ways. Sometimes, when I look at great fields of them, I feel as if I were in the midst of a storm, every thing has such awind-swept look, although it is perfectly still at the time. One day Icame upon a body of them, that appeared as if they had all been stoppedby some sudden enchantment, in the midst of running away. Often we seetrees that look as if they had come out of the wars, with great cleftsin their sides, and holes through them. Their foliage is very slight;there is very little to conceal their muscular look. It seems as if wecould feel in them the will that tightened all the fibres. 

 MAY 15, 1878. 

The great event to us lately has been the advent of the baby lizards. The streets are all laid with planks, clean and sunny. The lizardsdelight in them, they are so bright and warm. I like to see, as I walkalong, these curious little bodies, in old-fashioned scale armor, stopping and looking about, as if they were drinking in the comfort ofthe sunshine, just as I am. Although they stop a great deal, it is verydifficult to catch one, for their movements are like a flash. I didsucceed once in holding one long enough to examine his beautifulsteel-blue bands. The babies are as delicate as if they were made ofglass, and as light and airy as if they belonged to fairy-land. Theyrun, all the time, backward and forward, just for the pleasure ofmoving, over the sidewalk, and under it. 

When I read in the papers, every week, about the people who killthemselves in San Francisco, --and they generally say that they do itbecause there does not seem to be any thing worth living for, --I wonderif it would not make a difference to them if they lived in the country, and saw how entertaining the world looks to the lively little creaturesabout us, who think it worth while to move so quickly, and look wellabout on every side, for fear they may miss seeing something. 

 JULY 2, 1878. 

When we first came here in the spring, and found the ground all blue andyellow and white with blossoms, I thought how interested I should be, towatch the succession of flowers. But that was all. In these dry places, we have only _spring_ flowers. I did, though, the other day, seesomething red in the distance, and, going to it, found a clump ofthistles, almost as tall as I am, of a bright crimson color. The fieldsare very dry now, and it seems to be the season of the snakes. Under theserpent-like branches, we find nothing but the cast-off skins of thesnakes. 

There are some curious old men here who tend cattle, sitting under thetrees, with their knitting. I think they are Germans. They do not appearto understand when I speak to them. I thought they might be "brokeminers, " who are generally the most curious people here-abouts. 

One of these "broke miners" is employed to take care of two littlechildren near us, whose mother is dead. He dresses them with theirclothes hind-side before, and liable at any moment to drop entirely off;but seems to succeed very well in amusing them, quilting up hisdishcloths into dolls for them, and transforming their garments intokites. His failing seems to be that a kind of dreamy mood is apt tosteal over him, in which he wanders on the beach, regardless of hours;and the master of the house, coming home, has to hunt high and low forhim, to come and prepare the meal. On the last bright moonlight night, he wholly disappeared. 

 OCTOBER 15, 1878. 

We have finally been driven off by the wind from our cottage on the bay. Margie has been so accustomed to moving, that she takes it as easily asan Indian child would. A few days before we left, she gave me an accountof the moving of the man opposite, which was all accomplished beforebreakfast in the morning. First, she said, he put all his things on awagon, and then took his house to pieces, and put that on; and then heand the wagoner sat down and drank a pot of coffee together, and startedoff, on their load. 

We did not take our house with us, but found a rather dilapidated one, in what is called Old Alameda. It is quite attractive, from the treesand vines about it, and the spacious garden in which it stands. It isowned by an old German woman, who lives next to us. She is rich now, and owns the whole block, but still holds to her old peasant customs, and wears wooden shoes. Opposite is a French family, who go off everyyear to a vineyard, to make wine; and, next to them, a poor Spanishfamily, who carry round mussels to sell. 

 MARCH 3, 1879. 

We have had a real winter; not that it was very cold or snowy, --that itnever is here, --but so excessively rainy as to keep us a good dealin-doors. The grass grew up in the house, and waved luxuriantly roundthe edges of the rooms. The oak-trees surprised us by bursting out intofresh young green, though we had not noticed that they had lost any oftheir hard, evergreen leaves. 

 APRIL 10, 1879. 

While we were crossing the ferry between San Francisco and Oakland oneday, a peculiar-looking person appeared on the deck of the boat, whosaluted the assembled company in a most impressive manner. He was alarge man, serene and self-possessed, with rather a handsome face. Onhis broad shoulders he wore massive epaulets, a sword hung by his side, and his hat was crowned with nodding peacock feathers. I noticed that hepassed the gates where the tickets are delivered, unquestioned, givingonly a courteous salute, instead of the customary passport. Uponinquiry, I learned that he was the "Emperor Norton, ruler ofCalifornia, " according to his fancy; and that he passed free wherever hechose to go, --theatres opening their doors to him, railroads andsteamers conveying him without charge. He was an old pioneer, distraughtby misfortunes, and humored in this hallucination by the people. He wasin the habit of ordering daily telegraphic despatches sent to thedifferent crowned heads of Europe. He had once been known to draw hissword upon his washer-woman, because she presumed to demand payment forhis washing; whereupon the Pioneer Society, learning of the affair, tookupon itself the charge of meeting all little expenses of this nature. 

The Californians have a jolly, good-natured way of regardingidiosyncrasies, and a kind of lavish generosity in the distribution oftheir alms, quite different from the careful and judicious method of theEastern people. We hear that some of the early miners, passing along thestreets of San Francisco, just after it had been devastated by one ofthe terrible fires that swept every thing before them, and seeing a lonewoman sitting and weeping among the ruins, flung twenty-dollar goldpieces and little packages of gold dust at her, until all her losseswere made good, and she had a handsome overplus to start anew. 

I noticed in Oakland a man who drew the whole length of his body alongthe sidewalk, like an enormous reptile, moving slowly by the help ofhis hands, unable to get along in any other way, holding up a bright, sunny, sailor face. On his back was a pack of newspapers, from which menhelped themselves, and flung him generally a half or a quarter of adollar, always refusing the change. That such a man could do business inthe streets, was a credit to the kindliness of the people incommoded byhim. I hardly think he would have been tolerated in New York or Boston;but his pleasant face and fast-disappearing papers showed that he wasnot made uncomfortably aware of the inconvenience he caused. 

One day, while waiting at the ferry, I saw two men employed in a waythat attracted the attention of every one who passed. One of them, whohad in his hand a pair of crutches, ascended some steps, and, crossingthem, nailed them to the wall, close to the gateway where the passengerspassed to the boat. The other arranged some light drapery in the formof wings above them. Below they put a small table, with the photographof a little newsboy on it. All the business-men, the every-daypassengers crossing to their homes on the Oakland side, appeared tounderstand it, and quietly laid some piece of money beside the picture. It seems that it was the stand of a little crippled boy who had for ayear or two furnished the daily papers to the passengers passing to theboat. The money was for his funeral expenses, and to help his family. Itwas very characteristic of the Californians to take this dramatic andeffective way of collecting a fund. Men who would have been very likelyto meet a subscription-paper with indifference, on being appealed to inthis poetic manner, with no word spoken, only seeing the discardedcrutches and the white wings above, with moist eyes laid their littletribute below, as if it were a satisfaction to do so. I thought how thelittle newsboy's face would have brightened if he could have seen it, and hoped that he might not be beyond all knowledge of it now. 

We have had an opportunity to observe some fine-looking Chinamen whohave been at work on the railroad all winter opposite our house. Thereare a hundred or more of them. We understand that they are from therural districts of China. They are large, strong, and healthy, quitedifferent from the miserable, stunted, sallow-faced creatures from thecities, of whom we see so many, showing that this inferiority is notinherent in the race, but is the effect of unfavorable circumstances. 

 MAY 15, 1879. 

Day before yesterday was the anniversary of the birthday of the Chinesegoddess Kum Fa, or Golden Flower, guardian of children. She isworshipped chiefly by women; but some of the workers on the railroadbegged branches of the feathery yellow acacia, which is now in bloom, tocarry with them to the temple in San Francisco. They are so unpoetic inmany ways, that we should hardly expect them to be so fond of flowers;but they mourn very much if the bulbs which they keep growing in stonesand water in their houses in the winter do not open for the new year. 

The moon and the flowers they enjoy more than any thing else. In manythings they are children, and like what children like. The moon holds avery important place to them, and the dates of the new year and alltheir festivals are determined by its changes. We used to see one of ourboys standing, sometimes for hours together, with his arms folded, gazing into the moonlit sky. When questioned as to what he was doing, hesaid he was "looking at the garden in the moon, " and listening to "hearthe star-men sing. "

This boy appeared to be a Shin worshipper. He made many drawingsrepresenting these spirits, with astonishing facility and artisticskill, but, when pressed to explain them, said it was not good to speakmuch about them. Some rode upon clouds; some thrust their heads out ofthe water, or danced upon the backs of fishes; some looked out of cavesamong the hills. There were serene, peaceful ones, with flowers ormusical instruments in their hands; others were fierce and hostile, brandishing weapons, and exploding bombs. Everywhere was the wildestfreedom and grace, and apparently much symbolic meaning which we couldnot understand. 

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TRANSCRIBERS NOTE:

Every effort has been made to replicate this text as faithfully aspossible, including obsolete and variant spellings. Date entries havebeen normalized. Obvious typographical errors in punctuation have beenfixed. Corrections [in brackets] in the text are noted below:

 Page 168 succestion [succession] Page 198 heavp [heavy] Page 201 boy [boys] Page 204 comorants [cormorants] Page 204 in in [in] Page 255 the the [the]