The new Northwest. [volume] (Portland, Or.) 1871-1887, 1874-03-27

part dull and monotonous. The river is
broad, muddy and, in many. places,
sluggish, and the dense timber, in its I
dusky greenness, vies with the gray
bluffs of basalt that sometimes stand in |
collonnades, keeping guard over patches
of fire-denuded mountain land, that
loom, all desolate and ghastly, against
the sombre sky in the background.
The scenery grows gradually more
beautiful as you near Astoria, and by
the time you reach this quaint little
old town and find your vessel moored for
few moments along the dock, you are
lost in amazement at the broad expanse
of land-andwater-scape that rolls on
and away, through the dim and misty
distance, giving you a painful sense of
your own personal littleness.
The bells ring, the seamen chant 80,
heave o's," the captain shouts his orders
and his men respond faye, aye" while
your vessel creaks and groans and grum-
bles as she moves her ponderous wheels,
and with very perceptible rolling Of
her unwieldy sides, you start steaming
down the bay and out toward the dis
tant breakers, aud as they lash the gray
horizon in their fury, and then collapse
in impotence upon the sands and drift
wood, but to gather fresh courage and
renew the endless combat, you feel that
they are things of life, and sympathize
with them in their Intellectual battle
with destiny. Intellectually, did we say?
Wait long enough, o, man immortal,
and the last vestige of these opposing
rocks and sands, over which the break
ers dash so ceaselessly, will have
yielded to the wear of ages and retired
to oblivion's shades for evermore.
After leaving Astoria you pass rap
idly out toward the breakers. Taking
the advice of everybody, you go on deck
and stay there, fighting the fate of sea-
sickness in store for you; and if you
laugh at everybody else, knowing you
are getting pale about the mouth the
while, yet strangely tempted to believe
that you are feeling splendid" But
its no use trying. You suddenly grow
as limp as a frost-bitten tomato vine,
and gladly accept the escort of some
strong arm, while with your disengaged
hand you clutch nervously at this and
that TO save you from dangerous fall.
The grandeur of the scenery falls upon
you and you reach your state-room, sick
enough TO die. But you can't die, and
everybody knows il, and you get little
sympathy. For two days you lie at the
mercy of the stewardess, who some
times sips your broth before she gives it
to you, which doesn't whet your appetite,
and urges you to get up and go on deck,
which you attempt only to fall back
Imply upon your pillow as you give
vent to CALCULATIONS in your retchings
which some imaginary mortal has lik-
ened to crying out "New York" in tones
of dispair.
But the sea grows smoother and you
grow calmer and your appetite becomes
voracious after a while, and you gather
courage to go on deck and find that you
enjoy the change Immensely.
The remainder of the voyage proves
intensely interesting. You are never
out of sight of the distant coast, and
sometimes sail very near it. As you ap'
proach your journeys end the land
scapes become marked by visions o
lighthouses, fog-whistles, farmhouse:
and the cattle upon a thousand hills
Point Arena, Point Reys, the Faro
lomes, and other noted land marks smile
upon you, and after a while the Colder
Gate, guarded by Natures fortresses
opens 10 your vision, and soon the Col
den City looms before you with Oak
land in the distance, and the busy crafts
around all buffeting the winds anC
waves as though sporting with the ele
ments in glee.
An hour later and your vessel lies pant
ing at the dock, and after encounterinl
the usual rush of hotel runners, drays
omnibuses and what not, you enter ;
coach and drive to your hotel, where
your first thought is of home and friend
and what your loved ones are doing.
, a. J. d.