DOWN THE COLUMBIA RIVER TO PORTLAND.
PORTLAND, OREGON, July 1, 1892.
After spending six days in the Yellowstone Park, which would have been
far more comfortable if there had been less dust, fewer mosquitoes,
and better roads, we again returned to Livingston, and took the train
coming from the East at 8.15 P.M. All the next day and night and the
day following we were passing through mountain scenery of wonderful
beauty and grandeur, until at 11 P.M. we were landed at Pasco
Junction, there being a cross-country railroad from that point to the
Union Pacific, on the banks of the Columbia, where we wanted to go.
There was a large station at Pasco, but not a porter nor a carriage to
be seen. Many drinking places were open, and I interviewed several of
the patriots who were lounging about in their shirt sleeves--for the
thermometer registered one hundred degrees--and they pointed out the
way to Cook's Hotel, about a quarter of a mile off. Finally a porter
came to our assistance and escorted us to the hotel, which was about
as poor a one as could well be--close, hot, and uncomfortable. The
beds were as hot as if there was a fire under them, and we, of course,
slept but little. In the morning, after looking at a bad breakfast,
which did not tempt our appetites, we got into the caboose of a
freight train, and a very rough trip of two hours brought us to
Wallula Junction, where the thermometer stood at one hundred degrees
in the shade. Here we changed cars, and after two hours' more riding,
reached the Union Pacific Railroad, where we once more enjoyed the
luxury of seats in a Pullman. There was no dining-room car attached to
this train, but it stopped at a station for half an hour, and we were
supplied with an excellent dinner. The polite and kind conductor told
us not to hurry, that he would not start until we had all the dinner
we wanted. We were about eight hours running on or near the southern
banks of the Columbia River. The water was very high, and often ran
swiftly over rough rocks in the bed of the stream, and around the
bends with great force. The river appeared much wider than the Hudson,
about the same width as the Danube at Vienna. The great rivers of
Europe, Asia, Africa, and America all have their attractive
peculiarities, and I often recall my remembrances of the St. Lawrence,
Hudson, Mississippi, Rhine, Elbe, Danube, Seine, Nile, and Ganges with
the greatest pleasure and satisfaction, and am thankful that I have
been permitted to see them; but I must acknowledge that the Columbia,
in beauty and grandeur, far surpasses them all. For long distances,
you look out upon the wide and rushing water, and up to the lofty
mountains which border the banks and far beyond, some covered with
snow, and as picturesque and beautiful as anything an artist could
dream of.
One of the most interesting things to be seen on the trip down the
river is the method of catching salmon, which, as is well known, are
as fine as any in the world. They are caught in immense numbers and
sent to all parts of the country. During the dry season, a wall is
built about twenty-five feet from the shore, forming a canal through
which the water rushes with great force. In this canal is placed a
large wheel, something like those on a sidewheel steamer, under which
the water pours, causing it to revolve in a direction contrary to the
current. The salmon swimming up stream try to jump over this
obstruction, and falling into the wheel, are tossed up on a platform,
and thus captured.
Our train arrived at this city at 9 P.M., and we were furnished with
luxurious accommodations at "The Portland," an hotel erected by a
stock company, at a cost of one million dollars, and admirably kept by
Mr. Leland, formerly of the Delavan, Albany, and the Clarendon,
Saratoga. We found at the hotel all of the Alaska party in good health
and spirits, and ready for the voyage as arranged.
Two days of exceptionally fine weather have given us an opportunity to
see this beautiful city to the best advantage. The Honorable Benjamin
Stark, formerly United States Senator from Oregon, now residing in New
London, Connecticut, informed me that when he first landed at Portland
in 1845, from the bark _Toulon_, there was not a house in the place,
and the party was obliged to sleep in tents where now is a fine city
of sixty-six thousand inhabitants, wide streets, elegant public and
private buildings, electric and cable street railways, and all the
appliances of modern civilization, in many respects in advance of
Eastern cities. We saw a number of Japanese and Chinese stores filled
with elegant goods, and attended by native salesmen.