East Saginaw courier. (East Saginaw, Mich.) 1859-18??, 1859-09-01
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MR.. PHOENIX IN OREGON.

years since IN the hn'ckertoekcr Mdgdzine,
but like all the writings of the inevita-
bic Phnnix, it bears age:
We rather think, upon the whole, that
we shall violate no confidence, nor do
any particular hurt, by permitting the
reader to have peep at the following
passages from a private letter from "John
Phonex," alias "Squibob," dated from
Portland, Oregon Territory, the latter
part of August last. His epistlc ends
with poem, which is scarcely less char
actcristic than the letter itself:
ut gives me unfeigned pleasure TO in
form you that | am about to quit the
gloomy and never-to-be-dricd-up sky of
Oregon, and repair without unnecessary
delay, to D, on our borders. Yes,
sir, I'm off 7; services" no longer required
on these inclement shores-shores which
when You read of in Irvings astoria"
you naturally wish to behold, and admire
old Astor's pluck in making establish
ments. thereon, and which, when you
reach, you wish you hadn't and admire
still more old Astor's good sense in break
ing his establishments mp, and quitting
while there was yet time.
Rain is an exceedingly pleasant and
gratifying institution in its way, and in
moderation it causes the grass to grow,
the blossoms flourish, and is a positive
necessity to the umbrella maker; but
when you get to q country where it rains
necessarily twenty-siX hours a day, for
seventeen months in the year, you cannot
resist having the conviction forced npon
your mind that the thing is slightly over
done. That's the case in Oregon; it COM
menccd raining pretty heavily on the
third of last November, and continued
up to the fifteenth of May, when it set
in for a long storm, which isn't fairly
over yet. There's moisture for you.
The consequences of this awful climate
arc inst what might be supposed. The
immense quantity Of the protoXide squir-
ted about here causes trees, buildings,
streets, everything, to present a diluted
and wishy-washy appearance. The wo-
men lose their color the men their hair,
(washed off, sir,) and the animals, Ivy con
slant exposure, acquire scales and fins,
like the natives of the great deep. In
fact, all the inhabitants of this territory
have generally scaly appearance, and
rejoice in peculiar smell "a combina-
ton, | should say, of fish-ball and q
fresh mud sucker. The rains of Oregon
beat everything in that line i ever bcheld
or conceived Of Those that fell on
Noah'S ark were not more heavy; those OF
Nero, Caligula, and /. Nocly Jonson,
not more terrible, nor those of Lady
Suffolk, at Moscow, longer or stronger,
which is slightly mixed metaphor of
very happy description. So upon the
whole I'm glad I'm off; yes, ] am quite
sure of it; and | long to get to D,
where the people enjoy the light of the
blessed sun, and where j can enjoy it also,
and dry my things, and read Irvings
ASTORIA Such thing as dry humor"
in Oregon is, Of course, physical i'm
possibility.
enclose a short "pocm," which tells
its own story. Set to music, 'susthn"
slow and melancholy like) and accompani-
ed by the sOiaette, | should think it might
be well adapted for the parlor, the bou-
dor, or the concert-room. 1t is a plain,
unvanished tale not only founded on facts,
but with all three stories, and the attic,
built of those materials:
sTANZAs: LINES SONG BALLARD.
Among them that come up Speculate IN Sock and
Surp,ies. Oregon Lay by SURFING Sufferers Of
| NE War.
''Amo7g them that up speculate in stock and
1
lie bought him switch, tail sorrel two years old,
| which had n white face
And he bantered all Portland, o. T., for three hun.
L ii
There wasn man had horse, which he though. her
She wa. generally knowd ms Millnrds thousand dol.
We hadnt 70 idea W said Of doing any thing so RASH
But he took up Mister Stewart for two hundred dol
| lars, cash.
so every soul In Portland, O r., went right down TO
And every cert borryed bet on Millards horse:
And there that spccklntin Stewart with his hand
And two men following with tin pan full OF collars
and champagne basket full Of scrip
"
wal they measured Oft tho ground, and the horse.
And come running down rgh, pretty about four foot
And the Mlard mare had IT all her own way, so ev.
Til just they got the end of the track that are sor
rel shot suthn' like ten feet aheadi
V.
Arcr we seen that there rig n most surprising din
And remarks like this ere followed, Dog my everlastin
Skin'
rn be dod parncd, aud dog-sorcd, and ding blamed,
by Pike,
And thar was such awful howlin, and swearing, and
dancing, that many old people said they never had
seed the like
And that spccka,ln' Stuart he made the mussi
He packed the money Ia andcart, and didn't care
| cuss:
And sweetly smiling pulled IT or though he didn't
| mrd the hcft,
And since then we hnnt paid no taxes. nor bought
nothing nor sold nothing, for do suppose that In
Portland, o. T., there ant single red cent left"
| EEOld Mr.. Russell was fairly caught
in his own trap. He was better known
as Major Ben Russell, and being met by
his old friend Busby, he was familiarly
saluted with hearty shake of the hand.
Chow do you do, old Ben Russel?"
"Come, now',' said Major Ben, "I'll
not take that from you-not bit of it.
You are as old as am this minute"
/ ~