The new Northwest. [volume] (Portland, Or.) 1871-1887, 1879-08-07


the midst Of harvest aud in the heat OF
midsummer The next day at three p.
NJ. We embarked for Levens' Station,
thirty miles distant from Grants Pass,
and, after break-neck ride Of four and
a half hours, alighted at the hotel,
where an eager audience awaited US.
Tired, bruised and travel-worn as we
were, we coon met the friends Of human
liberty in the hail above the store,
where we addressed them for an hour
aud a half; and when, at late hour,
We disposed Of our weary bones and
aching head upon one Of Mrs. Levens'
sumptuous beds, we dreamed that all
the eggs in Jacksonville had been
hatched into full-fledged sage hens, that
were driving such lawmakers as dealt
In slander and rottenness into the open
fields, making them scatter the filthy
garbage broadcast. Then, after a while,
it seemed that golden fruitage crowned
the labors of the sage-hens, until in all
the beautiful land there was no more
room for the offensive debris that had
erewhile filed the minds of men with
evil thoughts and lOathsome deeds.
This, the Levens rancho at Galesville,
was one of The most noted stopping
places for travellers in this region during
the palmy days Of the Southern Oregon
gold mines. The hotel, which is large
log building, covered outside with
weather-boards and paint, aud lined in
side with ceiling and cloth and paper,
was riddled in many places with bullets
during the Indian war. More than one
fortune has been made with this hotel
and farm, and many others are yet TO be
made right here. But we must not
linger here, inviting as is the prospect,
for yonder comes the stage, aud We are
Off for Cauyonville, some fifteen miles
away. They do have long miles in this
wild country, presumably because its
surface is so hilly that it takes a great
deal Of measuring to span the distances,
and they count the leagues by air lines.
The coach is crowded, but we are for
tunate enough TO secure an outside seat.
Several passengers climb to the extreme
top rather than go inside, and there
they perch till we reach Canyonville,
though they are sometimes in imminent
danger Of losing their heads by contact
with the intersecting telegraph wires,
which occasionally hang alarmingly
low over the great highway.
Now we are on the Canyonville toll
road, a ten-mile thoroughfare, con-
structed with infinite labor and expense
through mighty mountain gorges,
where for long distances the way is
barely wide enough for the pranciug
team, which goes tearing ahead in the
darkness, the stage-coach candles send
ing forth a glare of CHEEKY light for a
little distance, beyond which the gloom
is rendered all the denser by the con-
trast. You cannot see the leaders
heads, which at every turn (and there
are many hundreds) are plunging into
gaps like Erebus, where black Cim-
merian darkness holds high carnival
with the reigning ghoul Of Night. On,
on and on We g, bounding, crashing,
plungiug at break-neek speed; for the
stage line, without which this whole
country would be like huge demijohn
with the cork driven home and hermet-
ically sealed - the stage line, which
brings many a resident who curses it
his only chauce for livelihood, is on
short time IN its transits now, and we
are half an hour behind.
Eleven o'clock and Canyonville. The
little town is as still as the fabled Lethe.
The gibbous moon has loosed her hold
upon the air and fallen down behind the
tree-covered mountains, and her silvery
light no longer dims the glory of the
jeweled stars. The Canyonville House,
where we take refuge for the night, is
aroused by our advent, and a bright
eyed daughter Of the good landlady
shows Us to n tiny room, where we soon
doze away into dreamland, the chief
subject OF our cogitations-home.
This evening Saturday we are to be-
gin course of lectures here in the
church, and in our next can tell you all
about the place, the meetings, aud the
people. \. 5. D.
Canyonville, July 26, 1879.