The new Northwest. [volume] (Portland, Or.) 1871-1887, 1879-05-22
LETTER FROM DAYTON. V. T.

Fortune having favored me with an
opportunity to visit this great upper
country" short time ago boarded the
splendid steamer Wide West, bound for
Dayton, w. T., via The Dalles, Wallula,
Umatiila and Walla Walla, and send
herewith few jottings by the way to
your numerous readers who have not
jouTneyed out into this yet un developed
land of seemingly limitless resources.
The grandeur Of the scenery, the vast
ness Of Natures work along the shores
OF the great "River of the West" has
been so often described that to essay
further In this direction would be but }
repeat what is familiar to every reader
of Oregon literature. Yet, looking on
the right band and upon the left, one
cannot help but feel that its adequate
delineation must ever defy the deserip-
tive powers of even the most eloquent
and enthusiastic tourist.
Nearing the Lower Cascades, the river
channel becomes obstructed by huge
bowlders rising up in the distance, set
firmly in the river bed, while lesser bars
and shoaly causeways divide the waters
here and there into swift and dangerous
places, blocking navigation, and caus-
ing portage to be made from here to
the Upper Cascades. Here is carried on
the lively and lucrative enterprise OF
salmon fishing.
AS we approach The Dalles, the envi-
rons OF Columbia, "Achilles of Rivers"
become almost entirely destitute of
timber, until the hills finally stand out
in bold relief on either side, without a
vestige of "tree or plant or creeping
thing" The Dalles comes in sight, aud
sits very sovereign amid the waste
that surrounds it. on the banks of the
rock bound river whose channel is again
broken up in this place in deep gorges
and narrow assures in solid roek-an
unlocked for scene to the traveller. In
vain we strain our eyes to see what has
become Of the mighty river, for as far as
we can see, bleak and rocky waste
stretches away, marking the course OF
the stream, which has cut its way by
the silent work Of centuries through ad-
amantine walls, traversing forced pas
sages here and there, sullen and slow
and deep, visible in some places, and
seemingly narrow enough to jump
across. We take the cars for the next
portage, Cello. On our left are sand
drifts Of vast expanse, heaped in wild
confusion, storm snd wind tossed, fitting
land marks of the elements that here
prevail. On the right are hills, from
which are waited to us that old remem-
bered odor OF sage-brush that has been
with US for a quarter of a century, a
thing Of the past, but not forgotten. We
travelled over the great plains with our
clumsy emigrant wagons drawn by tired
oxen, or dragged our sand-burnt feet
through its ashen soil near twenty
seven years ago, and its odor brings back
instinctively the feeling OF old acquaint-
ances. We remember well, as its breath
greets our nostrils, how we children bore
it in our arms to build the camp-fires
during those long months Of travel.
At last the sand heaps are lost in the
distance, and the next portage is made
from car to boat again to Cello. We
have found the river. The Columbia is
herself again, and the steamer is wait
ing for the transfer Of passengers and
freight. Cello soon disappears in the
cloud from the steamers smoke; the re-
ceding bills that rise on either hand are
barren and majestic. We come to Una
tilla Landing, arid, rocky, cherries
the only thing to break the monotony is
the transit of freight and passengers
nothing to attract the eye but few
strolling vagrant Indians, with bare feet /
and heads enveloped in striped blankets. /
Wallula is the next portage from boat
to car again, which place we reach in .
early morning. Here is another effort |
made to leave the impress Of civilization I
iD the wilderness, with about the same /
result as at Umatilla. Hills are covered I
with grease-woOd and sage-brush. The .
only living inhabitants to be seen are a
species of ground squirrel and a small .
variety of owl, apparently indigenous to
the soil, and of an ash color. After an
hours travel from the last portage, the
face of the wilderness undergoes a grad
ual change for the better, aud is fiecked
here and there by a fertile spot. Two
small streams, Mill Creek aud Walla
Walla River, come down and intersect
each other here in many places. Both
are shallow and swift, and wash up, as
they flow, the soil, which lies black
along their margin.
AS we near Walla Walla, the entire
scene Of desolation gradually changes
from the barren, Dead Sea look to bet
Ter soil and more level surface farms
are cultivated, the soil is black aud deep,
wheat fields grow more numerous, and
cattle, horses and sheep are roaming at
station is pointed out to us,
.he veritable spot where DR.. Whitman
yielded up his life at the hands Of the
lavages. The missionaries graves are
here, on the hill close besidei It. Verify
he footprints Of the early pioneers
marked In blood have presaged civili-
,ation that spans this continent from
'cean to ocean, and before which the
indians must eventually give place.
Beautiful Walla WalIa, gem sparkling
u a nef-unrk Of cultivated fields and .