Illustration: Frontispiece. Jeff Hayes portrait.
PORTLAND, OREGON
A. D. 1999
AND OTHER SKETCHES
_By_ JEFF W. HAYES
AUTHOR OF
"+Tales of the Sierras+"
"+Looking Backward at Portland+"
+Etc.+
Illustration: F. W. Baltes Logo
+Publishers:+
+F. W. Baltes and Company+
+Portland, Oregon+
1913
+Copyrighted 1913+
_All rights reserved_
Dedication
TO THE CITIZENS OF PORTLAND
AND TO THE DEAR FRIENDS OF MY EARLIER LIFE
THIS VOLUME IS LOVINGLY
DEDICATED
+Contents+
+Part I.+
Page
Chapter 1, The Visitor, 1
Chapter 2, The Prophecy, 4
Chapter 3, More Startling Prophecies, 15
Chapter 4, Old Names Revived, 21
Chapter 5, Prophetess Grows Jocose, 28
Chapter 6, 30
Chapter 7, More Denouements, 31
Chapter 8, Politics Discussed, 33
Chapter 9, Strange Occurrences, 35
+Part II.+
The Bad Man From Bodie 43
He Never Came Back 51
Where Did You Get That Oil? 55
A Grapevine Telegraph Line 59
Along the Shore 63
Showing Off 67
"Knifin' de Dough" 71
A Musical Aborigine 75
"The Gentleman of Havre" 77
On the Wing 79
He Knew a Good Thing 83
Inadequate Cuspidors 87
No Jobs, But Vacancies 89
Phenomenal Telegraphing 91
His Old Kentucky Home 95
The Office at Spirit Lake 97
The Indians Were Too Loyal 99
A Governor for Fifteen Minutes Took
the Bull by the Horns 101
The Seven Mounds 105
When Gold Grew on Sage Brush 111
PREFACE.
In introducing my little romance to the public, I do so with little
misgivings or apologies.
The close observer will agree that the changes that are anticipated--
here related as established facts--are merely the signs of the times,
and that not one-half of the story is told.
One might wish to be a living witness of the great projects occurring
A. D. 1999, and may possibly resent that he was not born later on in the
cycles of Time, but if his heart is in the right place he can realize
that there is nothing lost, and his soul goes marching onward and upward
in its eternal flight.
"_Oh, sometimes gleams upon our sight
Thro' present wrong, the eternal right;
And step by step, since time began,
We see the steady gain of Man._"
+Part I.+
+Portland, Oregon, A. D. 1999+
+Portland, Oregon, A. D. 1999+
CHAPTER I.
+The Visitor.+
"_Thro' the harsh noises of our day,
A low sweet prelude finds its way,
Thro' cloud of Doubt and creeds of Fear
A Light is breaking calm and clear._"
My caller was a queer little old woman. Her figure, however, was erect,
her eyes bright and her voice low, soft and firm. She was becomingly
dressed, in what might appear to be a Quaker garb, and a look of rare
intelligence radiated her countenance.
In a deep, sweet voice, she began:
"I was born in the year of our Lord, 1828, and am, consequently, in my
86th year. I have lived a long time, but when I glance backward, it
seems but yesterday that I nestled in my mother's arms. I was born in
Virginia in the year Andrew Jackson was elected President and my parents
took me to Washington on the day of his inauguration. We traveled in our
own vehicle, drawn by two dapple grey horses, and we had several
neighbors as companions each having a conveyance of their own.
"Schools were unknown in our neighborhood and my early education was
derived from my parents, principally, assisted by a maiden aunt, who
spent each summer at our plantation.
"My clothes were cut out, fitted and made by my aunt, and my hats lacked
any feather trimmings or other finery. The material of my dresses was
generally of a slate color, and but few other shades were affected. All
of our neighbors dressed in the same way, without any affectation of
style whatsoever. But enough of this.
"The musical instruments of that day were the melodeon, harp and violin.
There were very few of even these, and were confined, the melodeon to
the village church, the violin to our darkey's cabins.
"We read by a tallow dip during the winter nights, but there was not
very much to read, our library consisting of the family Bible, Bunyan's
Pilgrims Progress, together with a weekly paper published in
Philadelphia, that had originally been started by Benjamin Franklin.
"It was in the year 1850 that my people began talking of going West, and
tried to glean all the information they could concerning the country
they selected, the best means of getting there and the prospects for
disposing of our plantation. It took us three years to finish all of our
preparations, and on April 18th, 1853, our caravan started on the trail
leading Westward.
"I was 26 years old, and at a time of life when I could thoroughly enjoy
the ever varying changes of climate and scenery.
"We found the Indians very friendly, even to kindness, and we bestowed
on them many cheap trinkets in return for food and skins, of which they
possessed a variety.
"We made many stops on the way as we reached the then frontier
settlements, now large and prosperous cities, and it was not until we
had crossed the Missouri river, near Omaha, that we began anticipating
trouble from the Indians. We experienced the usual hardships and
vicissitudes from this cause, nothing unusual in those times, and
arrived in the then little city of Portland, March 19th, 1854.
"I startled our little party, on our arrival in Portland, by announcing
that the next time I crossed the Continent it would be on the steam
cars.
"Long and loudly was I laughed at for my optimism, and it did really
seem impossible for a locomotive to be capable of climbing those
seemingly inaccessible peaks.
"Had I prophesied all that was in my mind, my friends might have thought
that I was deranged. I could have said that I could see people flying
through the air in vehicles shaped like birds from the Atlantic to the
Pacific and that the almost impenetrable forests of Oregon would one day
be entirely laid low by the woodman's axe.
"There were many other things which I could see were bound to come but I
thought it wisest to keep the light of my prophecies to myself rather
than give them to unheeding ears.
"What I saw in those days, however, will not compare to the marvels
which come to me now, at my advanced age.
"I have given a receptive ear to the spirit which tells me what others
would pronounce 'queer notions,' but which I declare to be
scientifically natural. I will tell you of all these things and you may
publish them to the world, and allow them to be a judge of my
optimistic views. I will tell you what I see and also of what I know
is sure to come, so that all who read may know and understand, and put
themselves in readiness for the great events which are bound to ensue by
A. D. 1999."
The old lady then, her eyes beaming with intelligence and in the most
natural and unassumed manner, voiced the following prophecies: