were bordered with the greatest variety of trees and shrubs,
consisting of poplars, buckthorn fifty feet high, dogwood thirty to
forty feet high, several species of willow, alder, two species of
maple, and occasionally a yew. The undergrowth was composed of Hazel,
Vaccinium, Gaultheria, and a prickly species of Aralia. The herbaceous
shrubs were Goodyera, Neottia, Viola, Claytonia, Corallorrhiza. The
latter, however, were not in flower.
The party on foot, after leaving the Little Prairie about half a mile,
crossed the northern branch of the Smalocho,[13] which was found much
swollen and very rapid. Two trees were cut down to form a bridge.
After this, the walking through the forest became smooth and firm, and
they passed on at a rapid pace. The Indians, although loaded with
ninety pounds of baggage, kept up with the rest. At nightfall they
encamped at the margin of the snow.
On lighting their fires, they accidentally set fire to the
moss-covered trees, and in a few moments all around them was a
blazing mass of flame, which compelled them to change their quarters
farther to windward. They had made eighteen miles. But few plants were
found, the season being too early for collecting at so high an
elevation. The ground was covered with spruce-twigs, which had
apparently been broken off by the weight of the snow. The summit was
passed through an open space about twenty acres in extent. This glade
was surrounded with a dense forest of spruce trees. There was no
danger in walking except near the young trees, which had been bent
down by the snow, but on passing these they often broke through, and
experienced much difficulty in extricating themselves, particularly
the poor Indians, with their heavy burdens. The breadth of snow passed
over was about eight miles. At three o'clock they reached the
Spipen[14] River, where they encamped: this camp was found to be two
thousand five hundred and forty-one feet above the level of the sea.
The vegetation appeared to our botanical gentlemen farther advanced on
the east side than on the west, at the same height; the Pulmonarias
and several small annuals were more forward. There were only a few
pine trees, and those small, seen on the west side of the ridge; and
on the east side, there was a species of larch, the hackmatack of the
country. While they remained at this camp, they found a Pyrola, and
some new ferns.
The country about the Spipen[14] is mountainous and woody, with a
narrow strip of meadow-land along its banks. Mr. Waldron had, on
arriving at the camp, sent Lachemere, one of the Indians, down the
river to an Indian chief, in order to procure horses. Those that
remained after providing for the baggage, were consequently assigned
each to two or three individuals to ride and tye on their route.
On the 30th, they proceeded down the Spipen, making a journey of
eighteen miles, and passed another branch of the river, the junction
of which augmented its size very considerably. Its banks, too, became
perpendicular and rocky, with a current flowing between them at the
rate of six or seven miles an hour. After the junction, the stream was
about one hundred feet broad, and its course was east-southeast.
The vegetation on the east side of the mountains was decidedly more
advanced than that to the west, and several very interesting species
of plants were met with by the botanists, on the banks of the streams:
among them were Pæonia brownii, Cypripedium oregonium, Pentstemon,
Ipomopsis elegans, and several Compositæ, and a very handsome
flowering shrub, Purshia tridentata.
On the 31st, they continued their route over a rough country, in some
places almost impassable for a horse from its steepness, and in others
so marshy as to require much caution to prevent being mired.
During the morning, they met two Indians, who informed them that the
chief of the Yakima tribe was a short distance in advance, waiting to
meet them, and that he had several horses. At noon they reached a
small prairie on the banks of the river, where old Tidias, the chief,
was seen seated in state to receive Lieutenant Johnson; but this
ceremony was unavoidably broken in upon by the necessity of getting
the meridian observations. The chief, however, advanced towards him
with every mark of friendship, giving the party a hearty welcome. In
person he was tall, straight, and thin, a little bald, with long black
hair hanging down his back, carefully tied with a worsted rag. He was
grave, but dignified and graceful. When they had been seated, and
after smoking a couple of pipes in silence, he intimated that he was
ready for a talk, which then followed, relative to the rivers and face
of the country; but little information was obtained that could be
depended upon.
This tribe subsist chiefly upon salmon and the cammass-root: game is
very scarce, and the beaver have all disappeared. The cammass-root is
pounded and made into a sort of cake, which is not unpleasant, having
a sweetish taste, but it is very dry, although some of the party took
a fancy to it.
Tidias had with him an old man almost blind, who claimed much respect,
and two young men, whose dress of buckskin, profusely ornamented with
beads, was much admired by the party. During the talk, the old chief
expressed himself delighted to see the white men, and spoke of his own
importance, his immense territory, etc., in a style of boasting, to
which the Indians are very much addicted. He said that he was desirous
of affording all the accommodation he could to the party. But although
he had eight or ten fine horses with him, he would not agree to part
with them, as they were all his favourites. He was presented with a
variety of articles, in return for which he gave the party a few dried
salmon.
Towards evening, old Tidias took leave of them, saying that it was not
proper for an Indian to encamp in the same place with a white man, and
with a promise that he would have horses by ten o'clock the next day;
but he had a game to play by procrastinating, in which he thoroughly
succeeded.
In the morning they reached the Indian camp below, but no horses had
arrived. It was far, they said, to Tidias's house; a man could not go
thither and return in the same day; no horses or salmon could be
brought; no one could be permitted to go. Lieutenant Johnson was then
told that the road he had to follow was a "hungry" road. At last the
Indian was induced by high offers to exchange good horses for a great
number of bad ones, and finally consented to part with two more. On
quitting him they became thoroughly aware that all the difficulties
were owing, not to any indisposition to sell, but were created for the
purpose of inducing high prices to be given.
The party now branched off at right angles to their former route,
Lieutenant Johnson heartily sick and tired of his friend Tidias and
his people. Two more of the Indians here left them. The country they
entered, after passing a ridge about six hundred feet high, was quite
of a different aspect, forming long sloping hills, covered with a
scanty growth of pines. Many dry beds of rivulets were passed, and the
soil of the hills produced nothing but a long thin grass. There are,
however, some small valleys where the growth of grass is luxuriant,
the pines are larger, and the scenery assumed a park-like appearance.
From the summit of one of the hills, a sketch of Mount Rainier, and of
the intervening range, was obtained.
On the top of the ridge they fell in with a number of Spipen Indians,
who were engaged in digging the cammass and other roots. The latter
were those of an umbelliferous plant, oblong, tuberous, and in taste
resembling a parsnip. The process used to prepare them for bread, is
to bake them in a well-heated oven of stones; when they are taken out
they are dried, and then pounded between two stones till the mass
becomes as fine as corn meal, when it is kneaded into cakes and dried
in the sun. These roots are the principal vegetable food of the
Indians throughout Middle Oregon. The women are frequently seen, to
the number of twenty or thirty, with baskets suspended from the neck,
and a pointed stick in their hand, digging these roots, and so
intently engaged in the search for them, as to pay no attention
whatever to a passer-by. When these roots are properly dried, they are
stored away for the winter's consumption. This day they made only
fifteen miles, in a northern direction.
On the 2d of June, they reached the Yakima, after having crossed a
small stream. The Yakima was too deep for the horses to ford with
their packs, and they now for the first time used their balsas of
India-rubber cloth, which were found to answer the purpose of
floating the loads across the stream.
This river is one hundred and fifty feet wide, and pursues an
east-southeast course, with a velocity of more than four miles an
hour. At this place were found twenty migrating Indians, who have
their permanent residence on the banks lower down.
The chief, Kamaiyah, was the son-in-law of old Tidias, and one of the
most handsome and perfectly-formed Indians they had met with. He was
found to be gruff and surly in his manners, which was thought to be
owing to his wish to appear dignified. These Indians were living in
temporary huts, consisting of mats spread on poles. Among them was
seen quite a pretty girl, dressed in a shirt and trousers, with
moccasins of skin very much ornamented with fringe and beads. They had
a number of fine horses, but could not be induced to part with any of
them.
Lieutenant Johnson had now succeeded in purchasing venison and salmon,
and the party again had full allowance.
On the 3d, they continued their route to the northward, over gradually
rising ground, and Lieutenant Johnson having succeeded in purchasing
three more horses, only three of the party were now without them, so
that the riding and tye system was not quite so often resorted to as
before. On this plain was seen a number of curlews, some grouse, and a
large species of hare. They encamped again near the snow, and found
their altitude greater than any yet reached, the barometer standing at
24·750 in.: five thousand two hundred and three feet. They had again
reached the spruces and lost the pine, which was only found on the
hill-sides and plains.
At 4 A.M. on the morning of the 4th of June, the thermometer stood at
28°. They on that day continued their route up the mountain and across
its summit, which was here and there covered with patches of snow. I
regret to record another accident to the instruments. The sergeant, to
whom the barometer was intrusted by Lieutenant Johnson, in putting up
the instrument this morning, carelessly broke it; and thus ended the
barometrical experiments in the most interesting portion of the route.
It is difficult to account for the scarcity of snow on a much higher
elevation than they had before reached, and under circumstances which
would appear to have warranted a contrary expectation. Dr. Pickering
was induced to believe that this change in the climate is owing to the
open nature of the surrounding country; its being devoid of dense
forests, with but a few scattered trees and no under-brush; and the
vicinity to elevated plains, and the ridge being of a less broken
character.
The early part of the day was cold, with showers of sleet. On the
crest of the mountain they passed over swampy ground, with but a few
patches of spruces: after passing which, they began to descend very
regularly towards the Columbia, which they reached early in the
afternoon, about three miles below the Pischous River.[15] The
Columbia at this place is a rapid stream, but the scenery differs
entirely from that of other rivers: its banks are altogether devoid of
any fertile alluvial flats; destitute even of scattered trees; there
is no freshness in the little vegetation on its borders; the sterile
sands in fact reach to its very brink, and it is scarcely to be
believed until its banks are reached that a mighty river is rolling
its waters past these arid wastes.
[The record of the journey to Fort Colville is omitted, to be
resumed when the party returning draws near the environs of
Mount Rainier. The portion omitted extends from page 430 to
468 in the original publication.]
The party now pursued the route up the river, and in two hours reached
the Yakima, up whose valley they passed, encamping after making
twenty-five miles. The country was rolling, and might be termed sandy
and barren.
Mount St. Helen's,[16] with its snow-capped top, was seen at a great
distance to the west.
On the 5th, they continued their route, and at midday were overtaken
by an Indian, with a note informing them of the arrival of Mr. Drayton
at Wallawalla with the brigade. This was quick travelling for news in
Oregon; for so slow is it usually carried, that our party were the
first to bring the news of the arrival and operations of the squadron
in Oregon. This intelligence had not previously reached Wallawalla,
although it is considered to be on the direct post-route to the
interior, notwithstanding we had been in the country nearly two
months. The news of the murder of Mr. Black, in New Caledonia, was
nearly a year in reaching some points on the coast.
This was one of the warmest days they had experienced, and the
thermometer under the shade of a canopy stood at 108°. At a short
distance from the place where they stopped was a small hut, composed
of a few branches and reeds, which was thought to be barely sufficient
to contain a sheep; yet under it were four generations of human
beings, all females, seated in a posture, which, to whites, would have
been impracticable. They had just procured their subsistence for the
day, and their meal consisted of the berries of the dogwood. The scene
was not calculated to impress one very favourably with savage life.
The oldest of these had the cartilage of the nose pierced, but the
others had not; leading to the conclusion that the practice had been
discontinued for some years in the nation, who still, however, retain
the name.
The country exhibited little appearance of vegetation; the herbage
was quite dried up, and from appearances was likely to continue so
throughout the season. The prevailing vegetation consisted of bushes
of wormwood, stinted in growth, and unyielding.
After making thirty-three miles, they encamped among loose sand, one
hundred feet above the water of the river. Many rattlesnakes were
found in this vicinity.
Owing to the quantities of mosquitoes, combined with the fear of
snakes, the party obtained little or no rest, and were all glad to
mount their horses and proceed on their way.
In the early part of the day, they arrived at the junction of the
Spipen with the Yakima: previous to this they crossed another branch,
coming in from the southwest; the waters of the latter were very
turbid, of a dark-brown colour, and it was conjectured that it had its
source at or near Mount Rainier. Along its banks was seen a range of
basaltic columns. The Yakima was crossed during the day in canoes, the
river not being yet fordable.
The country, which had for some days exhibited the appearance of the
Tillandsia districts of Peru, had now begun to acquire a tinge of
green, and some scattered pine trees had become visible. Some small
oaks were passed, which appeared of a local character. This night they
again had a number of rattlesnakes in their camp.
On the 8th, the valley had narrowed, and the banks becoming more
perpendicular, they had a great many difficulties to encounter. They
stopped at the camp of old Tidias, whom, it will be recollected, they
had encountered after crossing the mountains, and from whom they
obtained some horses. They soon afterwards arrived at the path where
they had turned off to the north. The river had fallen very much
during their absence, and there was a marked difference in the season,
the vegetation being much more backward than in the parts they had
recently visited. The berries were just beginning to ripen, while in
the plains, not twenty miles distant, they were already over. Old
Tidias determined to accompany them to Nisqually, taking with him his
son, and lending them several horses. The Spipen, up which they
passed, was now hemmed in by mountain ridges, occasionally leaving
small portions of level ground. They encamped at the place they had
occupied on the 30th of May.
The vegetation, since they had passed this place, had so much advanced
that they had difficulty in recognising it again. The wet prairies
were overgrown with rank grass, from one to two feet in height. After
a short rest at the foot of the mountain, they began its ascent, and
reached the crest of the ridge in about three hours. On every side
they found a low growth of shrubs, which they had not suspected when
it was covered with snow, and causing the summit to differ essentially
from the broad ridge they had crossed between the Yakima and Pischous
rivers. They encamped for the night on the edge of a wet prairie,
which afforded pasturage for their horses.
The next day they passed through several similar prairies, and
descended the western slope of the mountain, where they found more
patches of snow than on the east side. This was just the reverse of
what they had found on their previous passage; the season, too, was
evidently much less advanced. This circumstance was supposed to be
owing to the denser forest on the west, as well as the absence of
elevated plains.
They encamped the same night at the little prairie before spoken of,
at the foot of the western slope. Before reaching it, they met a party
of men and women carrying a sick chief over the mountain, who was
evidently dying. It was affecting to see him stretching forth his hand
to them as they passed, as if desiring to be friends with all before
he died. He died the same night.
The two next days it rained almost constantly, but they found the road
much less difficult to travel than before, and the streams were
fordable, which enabled them to make more rapid progress.
On the 13th, they passed the Smalocho, and on the 15th reached
Nisqually, all well; having performed a journey of about one thousand
miles without any material accident, except those that have been
related as having occurred to the instruments. They traversed a route
which white men had never before taken, thus enabling us to become
acquainted with a portion of the country about which all had before
been conjecture. They had also made a large addition to our collection
of plants.
[Illustration: THEODORE WINTHROP.
From the Rowse crayon portrait.]
IV. TACOMA AND THE INDIAN LEGEND OF HAMITCHOU
BY THEODORE WINTHROP
Theodore Winthrop was a descendant of the famous Governor
John Winthrop, of Massachusetts. He was born at New Haven,
Connecticut, on September 22, 1828, and lost his life early
in the Civil War near Great Bethel, Virginia, on June 10,
1861. His death was deeply mourned as of one who had given
great promise of success in the field of literature.
His book, _The Canoe and the Saddle_, has appeared in many
editions. It tells of his visit to Puget Sound and across the
Cascade Mountains in 1853. In that volume he declares that
the Indians called the mountain, Tacoma. So far as is known
to the editor, that is the first place that that name for the
mountain appeared in print.
In addition to this interesting fact, the book is a charming
piece of literature, and will endure as one of the classics
on the Pacific Northwest. The portions here reproduced relate
to the mountain. They are taken from an early edition of the
book published by the John W. Lovell Company of New York. The
edition carries no date, but the copyright notice is by
Ticknor and Fields, 1862. The parts used are from pages
43-45, and 123-176.
The author's niece, Elizabeth Winthrop Johnson, of Pasadena,
California, kindly furnished a photograph of Rowse's portrait
of her famous uncle.
The large and beautiful glacier sweeping from the northeast
summit past the western slope of Steamboat Prow now bears the
name of Winthrop Glacier.
We had rounded a point, and opened Puyallop Bay, a breadth of
sheltered calmness, when I, lifting sleepy eyelids for a dreamy stare
about, was suddenly aware of a vast white shadow in the water. What
cloud, piled massive on the horizon, could cast an image so sharp in
outline, so full of vigorous detail of surface? No cloud, as my
stare, no longer dreamy, presently discovered,--no cloud, but a cloud
compeller. It was a giant mountain dome of snow, swelling and seeming
to fill the aërial spheres as its image displaced the blue deeps of
tranquil water. The smoky haze of an Oregon August hid all the length
of its lesser ridges, and left this mighty summit based upon uplifting
dimness. Only its splendid snows were visible, high in the unearthly
regions of clear blue noonday sky. The shore line drew a cincture of
pines across the broad base, where it faded unreal into the mist. The
same dark girth separated the peak from its reflection, over which my
canoe was now pressing, and sending wavering swells to shatter the
beautiful vision before it.
Kingly and alone stood this majesty, without any visible comrade or
consort, though far to the north and the south its brethren and
sisters dominated their realms, each in isolated sovereignty, rising
above the pine-darkened sierra of the Cascade Mountains,--above the
stern chasm where the Columbia, Achilles of rivers, sweeps,
short-lived and jubilant, to the sea,--above the lovely vales of the
Willamette and Umpqua. Of all the peaks from California to Frazer's
River, this one before me was royalest. Mount Regnier Christians have
dubbed it, in stupid nomenclature perpetuating the name of somebody or
nobody. More melodiously the siwashes call it Tacoma,--a generic term
also applied to all snow peaks. Whatever keen crests and crags there
may be in its rock anatomy of basalt, snow covers softly with its
bends and sweeping curves. Tacoma, under its ermine, is a crushed
volcanic dome, or an ancient volcano fallen in, and perhaps as yet not
wholly lifeless. The domes of snow are stateliest. There may be more
of feminine beauty in the cones, and more of masculine force and
hardihood in the rough pyramids, but the great domes are calmer and
more divine, and, even if they have failed to attain absolute
dignified grace of finish, and are riven and broken down, they still
demand our sympathy for giant power, if only partially victor. Each
form--the dome, the cone, and the pyramid--has its type among the
great snow peaks of the Cascades.
[Chapter VII, beginning at page 123 of the original
publication, is entitled "Tacoma."]
Up and down go the fortunes of men, now benignant, now malignant.
_Ante meridiem_ of our lives, we are rising characters. Our full noon
comes, and we are borne with plaudits on the shoulders of a grateful
populace. _Post meridiem_, we are ostracized, if not more rudely
mobbed. At twilight, we are perhaps recalled, and set on the throne of
Nestor.
Such slow changes in esteem are for men of some import and of settled
character. Loolowcan suffered under a more rapidly fluctuating public
opinion. At the camp of the road-makers, he had passed through a
period of neglect,--almost of ignominy. My hosts had prejudices
against redskins; they treated the son of Owhhigh with no
consideration; and he became depressed and slinking in manner under
the influence of their ostracism. No sooner had we disappeared from
the range of Boston eyes than Loolowcan resumed his leadership and his
control. I was very secondary now, and followed him humbly enough up
the heights we had reached. Here were all the old difficulties
increased, because they were no longer met on a level. We were to
climb the main ridge,--the mountain of La Tête,--abandoning the
valley, assaulting the summits. And here, as Owhhigh had prophesied in
his harangue at Nisqually, the horse's mane must be firmly grasped by
the climber. Poor, panting, weary nags! may it be true, the promise of
Loolowcan, that not far away is abundant fodder! But where can aught,
save firs with ostrich digestion, grow on these rough, forest-clad
shoulders?
So I clambered on till near noon.