# All Over Oregon and Washington/Chapter 10

CHAPTER X.
A GLIMPSE AT IDAHO AND WASHINGTON.
Lewiston, in Idaho, where we find ourselves waiting for the semi-weekly steamer from the Dalles, is a place of only a few hundred inhabitants, situated on a sand-spit at the junction of the Clearwater with the Snake River, and between the two rivers. Immensely high bluffs of picturesque forms, bordering the northern shore of either, redeem the place from the appearance of insipidity which dead levels and barren sands ordinarily conspire to produce. In a business point of view, the location is a good one, whenever the development of the country, by means of settlement, shall demand a commercial centre. In flush mining times it was a lively place, being at the head of continuous navigation on the Columbia and Snake rivers. The most interesting of its institutions, to-day, is the depot for pack-trains, where miners' property is received, taken care of, and released to the owners upon the payment of certain dues.
Like Dalles and Walla Walla, Lewiston was at first considered hopeless as a soil for trees and flowers; but within three years past, their cultivation has been undertaken, with every prospect of gratifying success. We remark about Lewiston the same appropriation of high lands to wheat-growing that we have commented upon at Dalles. In fact, the highest level ground, in sight from Lewiston, is a table on top of the extremely ​high bluff on the north bank of the Clearwater; and this elevated plain is waving with green wheat-fields: that is, we take it for granted the wheat must be waving, up in that breezy locality—and waving is the conventional term for all cereals.
Lewiston is not without its notable resorts, of which a trout lake, about twenty miles away, is one; and many are the fishing parties who resort there to enjoy a catch and a basket-dinner.
"We did not take time to visit the lake, but did take a ride out to Lapwai, the old mission station, and, more recently, military post and Indian Agency. The road to the Agency leads over the high prairie, where we find the tall grass—actually waving, this time—in the fresh breeze of morning, and very delightful it looks. The surface of the country about us is only slightly rolling, and covered with a bountiful crop of grass, which is rapidly being made into hay by a mowing-machine. Here, as everywhere we have traveled east of the Cascades, are the same varieties of flowers, in the same profusion; the same ever-present choir of sweet-throated larks; the prairie-hen, and grouse, and curlew. One other bird, the oriole, has its nest swinging from the branches of the cottonwoods in the vicinity of the Agency.
The little valley of the Lapwai is exceedingly pretty. The scene from the high prairie, before descending through the canyon of the creek, is in effect like a beautiful picture—with the garrison and the Agency, nestled each in its own nook, not fur from each other. Lapwai Valley is very fertile, and, in early missionary times, was considered more productive than Waiilatpa in the Walla Walla Valley. When there was not grain enough at the latter station, it was brought from this ​place to eke out the supply. The old mission residenoe, now a ruin, stands near the bank of the Clearwater, close by the junction of the Lapwai Creek.
Here was the first printing-press ever used on this coast. It was a small hand-press, presented to the Oregon Mission, by the missionaries in the Sandwich Islands, and was used to print school-books and other works in the Nez Perce language. Great was the labor expended upon these efforts to enlighten dark minds; and poor the reward! Mrs. Spalding, who, with her husband, taught eleven years in this little valley, has long since passed to her rest, dying an early death in consequence of the shock to her heart and brain of the massacre at Waiilatpa, and the disappointment of her hopes. Mr. Spalding lives, but wrecked in health and spirits. And this is the average result of all missionary labor among the savages. The great error of the Government is in not making citizens, or subjects, of the Indians. Just so long as they are treated with as independent peoples, so long will Indian wars continue to exist.
The Agency is a quietly busy little place, with mills, offices, residences for the agent, interpreter, and others, a school-house, and last, not least, "Lyon's Folly"—a stone church, commenced by Governor Lyon during his gubernatorial term. The walls are standing uncovered, and will probably fall to ruin. Uncle Samuel must be a very good-natured relative to permit so many of his nephews to set up expensive monuments to themselves, and to pay themselves handsomely, at the same time, for doing it.
There never was a more stupendous piece of nonsense in the world than erecting handsome buildings, or providing any enlightened institutions for the use ​of the average aborigine. The Nez Perces have always been the exemplary "good Indians" of the North-west; and they, certainly, are much better than their southern neighbors of the same color; but to regard them as civilized or half-civilized, or to expect them to become such, is an error. We have forgotten what the Nez Perce Treaty makes it necessary to expend in educational facilities for the tribe; but we know that there are about three thousand of these Indians, and that there are, at present, fifteen in the school at the Agency. It is true, that they cultivate a little ground under superintendency, which looks well; but it is only a little. They have an orchard, too, at the Agency, but the fruit is all stolen while it is green, and never does them any good. They parade themselves in their blankets of red or white—lounging about, full of impertinence, and very Indian altogether. Some of them are fine-enough-looking fellows, and many of the young women are pretty. The latter can learn to sew quite nicely, but are too indolent to keep themselves decently clad without constant urging. They prefer lounging like the men, and amuse themselves in the Indian-room of Mr. Whitman's, by chanting together their low, lazy, not unmusical, though decidedly barbarous and unpronounceable, sing-song.
The interpreter, an indispensable man at the Agency, is Mr. Perrin Whitman, nephew of Dr. Marcus Whitman, of honorable memory. lie has here a pleasant home, and a cheerful family of his own; while the Indians look upon him as the only person who can represent them properly—therefore his position, probably, is a permanent one.
Asking to be introduced to "Lawyer," Mr. Whitman took us to see this renowned chief. He is a rather ​short, stout-built man, with a good face of the Indian type, very dark—almost African—in complexion, and dressed in a rusty suit of white men's clothes, with the inevitable high silk-hat. His manner, on being introduced, is a very good copy of the civilized man's; but his English is quite too imperfect for much conversation. We told him we had come a long way to see the man who had talked with Lewis and Clarke—at which he smiled in a gratified manner—when we asked him how old he was when Lewis and Clarke were in the country. He indicated with his hand the stature of a five-year-old child; but he must have been older than that, to have remembered all he claims to about the great explorers. It was his father, who, while they explored the Columbia to its mouth, kept their horses through the winter, and returned them in good condition in the spring.
On asking him the meaning of koos-koos-kie—the name Lewis and Clarke gave to the Clearwater—he explained, in Nez Perce, to Mr. Whitman, that Lewis and Clarke misapprehended the words of the Indians; that, on being questioned concerning this river, and knowing that it was the object of the explorers to find the great River of the West—as it was then called—they had answered them that the Clearwater was koos-koos-kie: that is, a smaller river, or branch only of the greater one beyond. But Lewis and Clarke understood them to give it as the name of the stream. "What was the name of this river, formerly?" we asked. He could not tell us. If it ever had a name it was forgotten; and thus, directly, the interview ended. It is remarkable, that so many of the rivers of the country are nameless among the Indians; and especially so, that the Columbia seems never to have had a name ​among any of the tribes residing either upon its shores, or in the interior.
Concerning the moaning of Lapwai, we were informed by Mr. Whitman that it meant the place of meeting, or boundary between two peoples, and that the Lapwai Creek really was the boundary between the Upper and Lower Nez Perces. The former tribe went to the buffalo-grounds, while the latter never did—hence the distinction. The habits of the two tribes were essentially different, as always are the habits of those who live by hunting from those who live by fishing and root-digging.
There is a double line of cottonwood and other trees from the Lapwai Creek to the site of the old mission mill, which at first we mistook for an avenue, but which turned out to be a spontaneous growth bordering the disused mill-race. The moisture furnished to the ground by the race, caused the flying seeds of the cottonwood to germinate where they fell, along its border; and the result is, a double row of fine, tall trees—a hint to the farmer who can turn water through his grounds from some spring or stream. Four or six years will find the trees grown to the height of thirty or forty feet.
On returning to Lewiston, we find the temperature to be about ninety degrees. The next day a sandstorm is prophesied, and really comes off. First comes the wind in full force, lifting the loose sands of the street roof-high, and forcing it into every aperture of the houses. Doors and windows are hastily closed, and people left to suffocate with heat, in preference to being suflbcated with sand. Before night the clouds gather up, and give us at sunset a sharp thundershower—a common enough event in this eastern ​country, but almost unknown west of the Cascades. There is a considerable rain-fall during this night and another day—clearing and cooling the air—making our voyage down Snake River truly an agreeable one.
The impression gained of Idaho, from this glimpse at one spot on its western border, is more favorable than we had anticipated. It confirms the belief, which has been gradually growing in our mind ever since we left Walla Walla, that the whole of this Columbia Basin has been underestimated as a country for settlement. The people who are now here and have been here for several years, have always been in the habit of looking upon this as only a mining region. They have never intended to remain here longer than their interest in the mines compelled a residence, and, consequently, have never been inquisitive about its agricultural capacities. Within the last two years, however, a change has taken place in the sentiments of these unwilling settlers, and they are commencing to plant out fruit-trees—the surest evidence that they intend now to make this country their permanent residence. Several thousand dollars have lately been invested by the people of Idaho in young trees, imported from the East. In connection with these observations of our own, we clip the following from an Oregon paper:
"Mr. D. P. Thompson, the surveyor, was in town during the forepart of the week. In a conversation with him he informed us, that, in surveying north of Lewiston, this last summer, he was much surprised to find it such a beautiful agricultural country. He says, it contains more land adapted to agriculture than is embraced in the entire Wallamet Valley, including all its tributaries. He saw whole sections that would ​average one and a half tons of fine bunch-grass hay to the acre. The length of the valley is over one hundred and twenty-five miles, and contains millions of acres of land of a superior quality. This valley has now about seven hundred inhabitants, with new-comers daily arriving."
Doubtless, the same is true of many other portions of the Territory.
The Snake River below Lewiston is but a smaller copy of the Columbia above the Dalles—the same high, rounded bluffs, with frequent croppings of "eternal basalt," and the same high, rolling plains beyond. It has a current so rapid that the steamer, which has been thirty-six hours in coming up from Dalles, is able to return in fourteen. Leaving Lewiston at five o'clock in the morning, we pass no settlements, nor any streams of more consequence than the Alpowah and Tucanon on the south side, and the Pélouse on the north, until we arrive at the junction with the Columbia, at eleven o'clock, having traveled 149 miles in six hours. Eleven miles farther bring us to Wallula, where we left the steamer to take the overland route to Lewiston, through the Walla Walla Valley.
The notes which furnish the remainder of this chapter were imparted to us by several intelligent gentlemen of Walla Walla and Dalles, and we give them as furnishing the most reliable information concerning those remoter portions of the Columbia River Valley, which we had neither time nor opportunity to see with our own eyes.
Almost opposite the entrance of the Snake River into the Columbia, or, more properly, the junction of the north and south branches of the great river, the Yakima also joins itself to the Columbia. This is the ​principal tributary of the Columbia in South-eastern Washington; and, although the farming capacities of its valley are not yet very well known, it is believed that they are nearly equal to those of the Walla Walla Valley, The Yakima has its rise in a pass of the Cascade Mountains, from whence it flows south-eastwardly—receiving in its course numerous smaller tributaries descending like itself from the water-shed of the Cascades, and entering it from the west. Of these, the Wenass, Nachess, Athanam, and Pisco are the principal.
The Yakima Valley is the original home of the Indian tribe of that name, most of whom are now gathered on a reservation at Fort Simcoe, and, under faithful instruction, making some advance toward civilization. The number of settlers in the whole valley is about seven hundred, the most of whom are engaged in stock-raising. A direct trade with Puget Sound is carried on, to some extent, through the Snoqualmie Pass, as well as with Oregon, by wagons, to the Columbia River. Like Eastern Oregon this portion of Washington Territory is particularly adapted to stock-raising, whatever other resources it may ultimately develop. Its vast rolling plains furnish the most nutritious grass; its streams are frequent and pure, and bordered with cottonwood, alder, willow, and birch. Like the Walla Walla Valley it is destitute of timber—the material for fences and lumber all coming from the mountains, where yellow pine is found in abundance. The soil is a uniform light, sandy loam, with more or less alkali in it. Near the base of the mountains there is more loam and clay, and, as a consequence, the soil retains moisture longer than on the rolling plains. The river-bottoms consist ​in great part of rich alluvial deposits, which will cause them, ere long, to be turned into continuous stretches of farms, like the valleys of the Touchet and Dry Creek.
Such is the excellence of the bunch-grass peculiar to the plains east of the Cascade Mountains, that even the dry grass, which is cured by standing, keeps fat, all winter, the stock left to range at liberty anywhere on the prairie. Perhaps the pure, mild, dry, elastic nature of the atmosphere contributes something to keep animals in so good condition. Certain it is, that instead of coming out in the spring with lank sides and rough coats, they are as round and glossy as if kept up and curried.
At first thought it might be conjectured that such a country would be excellent for dairy purposes; but such is not the case. The dryness of the food and air together acts upon milch-cows to lessen the quantity of milk, although so much milk as is yielded is very rich in quality. Doubtless, many localities may be selected where dairies may be profitably conducted; but the tendency of cattle-raising is to a product of fat beef rather than butter and cheese.
The county of Yakima is bounded by the Yakima River on the east and north, the Cascade Mountains on the west, and the county of Klikitat on the south. Besides Walla Walla and Yakima counties, the whole of Eastern Washington is divided into Klikitat, with a population of two or three hundred, and Stevens, with a population of ten or twelve hundred. The former county borders on the Columbia, opposite Wasco County in Oregon, and consists almost entirely of high, rolling plains.
Stevens County, in the north-east corner of ​Washington Territory, contains 28,000 square miles. It is divided from south-west to north-east by the Clarke's Fork of the Columbia, the large and numerous branches of which furnish extensive tracts of line agricultural valley-land. Colville Valley has been settled since the early times of the Hudson's Bay Company in Oregon, and was known, even then, to be a good wheat-growing country. In the Spokane Valley was a mission settlement as early as 1838, and would now have been a flourishing American settlement but for the hostility of the Indians, who, out of jealousy, forbade the cultivation of their grounds by the whites, until after the ratification of the treaties of late years. Until within the past year or two, the country was passed over only by miners going to, and returning from, the mines of Idaho and Montana. Now, there is a steady, though small, immigration of settlers into this county, especially in the south-eastern portion, bordering on Idaho, which is found to be a delightful country—good either for agriculture or grazing—consisting of large prairies of excellent land, interspersed with groves of timber, with abundance of pure water.
It would appear from these notes, that the best lands of Eastern Washington are not immediately along the Columbia, at any part of its whole course, but rather upon the upper portion of its tributaries, and upon tributaries of its tributaries, as the Walla, the Yakima, the Spokane, the Okinikane, and numerous other smaller streams, with their branches. The great plain of the Columbia occupies a central position with regard to these, and is a country in some parts worthless, and in others, fit only for grazing.