River Falls journal. [volume] (River Falls, Pierce County, Wis.) 1872-2019, 1896-05-07
RIVER FALLS, WISCONSIN, THURSDAY, MAY I,

frenzy seems to possess the whole
car and the thought that this may
be the last touch TO be had of the
"beautiful," all are soon engaged in
a fierce battle with snow balls, and
they are not as soft as they look, as
many could testify. Lucky is he
who escapes good pommeling, and
as the car moved on cups had been
filled and soon the balls flew thick
and fast again. Peace restored, APP
| petites were found to have been
sharpened and dinner was thorough
ly enjoyed as we rolled into Tacoma,
a city set on hills, should Judge
from our small point of view.
The scenery was fine from here to
Kalama, Mt. Helens and Mt. Adam
being in sight all the way. Here
our train breaks up and we cross
the Columbia again, this time in
three sections, on the big ferry-boat.
The crossing is three miles, and we
go out of our car and stand on the
boat to feel sure we are on the water.
1t is fine ride, and the water is
velyety dark green, covered with
white caps-in fact it has all the APP
pearance of what on the salt water
is called chopped sea. Two hours
from now we are at Portland, and a
brother we had not met FOR eleven
years came on the train and the
moments were crowded with greet
ings, "reminiscences and good byes.
| Night again covers the world and
us and we can only sit by the win
dow and think of the friends home
at Marion, for not ray of light is
there to see by as we pass.
The young lady of our company
who was on her way home to San
Francisco, after a long tour of
Europe, said the scenery for long
miles had reminded her so strongly
of the far famed views in Norway.
The high mountains, pine covered,
deep lined with snow, and the air
| about us.
Among all the wonders of Ma
ture can be also found the wonder
of man. The wonder that saloons
can ever creep into this grandeur,
but they do. No town OF hamlet too
small for the sign to be missed.
The nights are SO long, no matter
how late we sit and visit, and the
mornings are always SO gladly well
coined. This one found us wonder
ing ''where we were at" and in our
simplicity we asked our porter, when
we found he was as ignorant as we,
and when asked the name of the
river at our left, gruffiy answered
that he didn't know, nor did he care
to. The young lady next us, seeing
his mood, shortly after asked him
the same question, and he begun,
90 laws, u" when she laugh
ingly turned and said: ''Oh yes, he
does know, Mrs. Rhoads, for he just
told me it was 20 Laws Creek ,"
Poor fellow, he was at their mercy,
and they were. merciless. We soon
found we were in Southern Oregon,
, riding through ''Hungry Mans Can
yon'' and along beside "Cow Greek"
Don't that sound like the old min
ing days?
These passes over the mountains
are something to see and not to write
about. | have no words to express
the beauty and wonder. The ever
green woods are picture in them
selves. Along their hillsides can be
seen the hydraulic mines, and miners
and their wee homes among the
trees. We saw the wash from the
high hills as it came down and col
ored the streams.
Breakfast at Glendale held us for
an hour in the rich, pine, spruce and
mountain air. We go over Iceland
Pass and Grants Pass, and from the
hilltops we view the valley and town
of the same name, and as we go down
into it we go out to look for the
River Falls young people who live
here, but can not find them. We
cross the Oregon state line, and well
come our friends to California and
try to have them recognize the
change in the climate. We are soon
in the Syskiou mountains and they
are as beautiful as any we have
passed through.
We had little time for meals that
day. A long stop caused us to go
outside to ascertain its cause and we
found we were awaiting the Oregon
Express on its way to Portland. We
gathered flowers and mistletoe, filled
our cups from the mountain springs
near by and still we waited, and
while waiting interviewed some sol
diers who had come on our train at
Portland with five deserters from
the regular army at Vancouver.
They were on their way to the Cali
fornia prison to serve two, three and
four years.
Still we waited, and after weary
while we heard the engine far up on
the mountain side and long we'll
filled train came rushing by us, and
then another, and then we started
up over this wonderful Pass. Oh,
but it was wonderful, the way we
climbed over those peaks, high tres
ties, 200 feet, around curves, through
tunnels, all the while going up, up,
towards the clouds and at last we
stand above them, and the snow
covered peaks about us. This Pass
is 4,I3o it., s miles to the summit,
and as we climb all rode on the plat
form and could look down over the
way we had come. The only I'M
pleasantness was the giggling of the
girl without brains who could so
readily make light talk ard laugh
amid such grandeur. Occasionally,
glimpse of Shasta could be seen,
but Handicapped Black Butte stood
out in strong relief against the sky.
| Amid all this awe-inspiring scenery
came the man whose brains were
dulled by whiskey's fumes, an old
prospector of fine appearance and
signs of great intelligence. He told,
as best he could, interesting stories of
old days Shasta kept hid, and / did
not wonder.
| Our day of sightseeing is over.
This is our last night on the train,
but oh. how we wish for few more