The new Northwest. [volume] (Portland, Or.) 1871-1887, 1873-10-24

q IN the AlhG u
guarding the loveliness at his feet. To-
day these hills and the mount are al
most as softly outlined in the mellow
autumn sunlight as they were in the
moOnbeams' ray last night. All, what
a subject for the artists pencil or paint
er's brush! Though doubt if the most
skillful Of the noble craft could put on
canvas the indescribable blue that gives
our hills their peculiar, dreamy softness
of tint.
Between the river and the hills in the
background stretch the wild meadows
of this section, still covered with a rank
luxuriance of tall grass, which is now
exchanging its green for the more sober
russet tint of autumn. Above us the
winding river is shut out from view by
q miniature headland that juts out alb
ruptly and is faithfully reflected i'm the
CLASSY surface. Below, to the left, we
see the peninsula upon which the sea
port of Oregon is built; back of US
stands the forest, looking much the
I - IL nAu Hntn LEWIS
and Clarke cut from it the materials for
the rude cabins they built here sixty
eight years ago. VIII you take a walk
through these grand old woods l did,
a short time ago, and you may look at
the scenery through my eyes, if you
choose. For about a mile we travel
along on narrow ridge with scarcely
Perceptible grade, through the graceful,
delicate foliage of the dropping hemlock
branches, that wave their feathery
forms lightly in the glancing sunlight,
which flecks the forest with gold. Then
we come to hill where the poet might
have received his thought as to Gods
first temple, so tall and straight and
shapely are the countless natural col
umns that spring heavenward to sup
port the leafy arch above. Though we
may not be Of the favored few who gaze
on the shattered and decaying memori-
ais of mans pride and power at Karnak
and Luxor, here we may worship in n
grander temple than Egypt's monarchs
ever built. Hard as the flinty rock
must be that heart which feels i'm such
place no swelling aspirations towards
the Creator, no longing for a pure and
perfect life, free from sin and sorrow.
But as we pass on, winding around the
heads of deep ravines, traversing the
sides of steep and lofty hills, these emo
tions are succeeded by feelings of admi-
ration and perhaps astonishment. The
ravines and hill-sides are covered with
q mantle of the richest green that ma
ture can furnish, and the eye never
wearies of gazing on this loYeliness that
is always fresh and new, alike in winter
and summer. Finally, at the highest
point on our route, we look down into
Grand Canon, the deepest and widest
Of all the ravines, and from our perch on
the steep hillside We gaze through the
thick foliage out upon the broad Pacific,
true to its name now, for it is as placid
as lake.
On we go, winding along the hillside
as before, until we come down to the
sandhills that announce ClatsOp Plains.
Then a walk of a mile across the sand
ridges-some grassy and attractive, and
some bleak and barren-suddenly, on
reaching the top of forbidding desc
late-looking one, highest of all, old
ocean, in all its majesty, rolls its surf
at our feet. Now we can ramble as long
as we like on the hard, smooth beach,
and contemplate the grandeur of the
ocean in its repose, or imagine its ter
rifle fury, when, in an angry storm, its
laundering surges charge fiercely upon
the trembling shore. Then, to come
down to small things, at our feet We can
watch the tell-tale holes in the sand
that reveal the retreat of the unfortu-
nate clam, and if the fancy takes US, we
can pursue, and if brisk enough, capture
him.
Isn't it rather a humiliating refec-
l'tion, though, for our superior humanity,
that nothing is safe from mans rapac-
ity and greed? Neither the strength
Of the buffalo nor the humble helpless
ness and retirement of the clam, can
avail aught against the voracity of ON
nivorous man.
But to return from the bit Of moraliz-
ing: 1 was visiting the noted Plains az
ter an absence Of eighteen years, and
though but child at that time, could
still, during this visit, see some famiI-
E lar faces and scenes. The sight of the
: ruins of the old church in which. when
] a child, l sat by the side Of my sainted
= mother-a visit 10 the sacred mound
e above that mothers grave Aroused
b feelings that shake the soul of the
S strong and weak alike. Oh! as long as
1 the sold, old fashion of Death' lasts,
S let us indeed Hthank God for the oIde,
{ fashion Of Immortality" How could
e we bear to look at the truly silent
$ grave, so eloquent in its silence, did We
s not feel sure that they, the ''loved anC
? LOST are "not lost, but gone beforep
} How terrible the grief of one who, gaz
J ing down at the relentless grave, feel.
: that the lost darling, the treasure o
: life, is there! How blessed the comfort
5 to feel instead, that the tomb can no
hold the spirit-to be certain as we ART
, of existence-that the free and glo
. rious soul is roaming through fields o
Y bliss, or soaring above us in loving
t watchfulness and gentle ministrations
v Pardon this digression, and let ms
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