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About The west shore. (Portland, Or.) 1875-1891 | View Entire Issue (Dec. 1, 1880)
324 THE WEST SHORE. December, 1880 All about iin is day-lit charm of passing fci-fiic ; ImiI for mt the kirn no longer nhiiies. Night, will) Iut dim mysterious beauty, enfolds the fiirtli. In the witter the pale fare of the moon in mirrored mill the stars look sadly down. Upon the shores h fin-in burning, giving to the landscape 11 wild wicrdness. Dark strangely clad liynrcH lire moving silently about in the firelight. From the doorway of fl rough wigwam, a motionless form in silently home down to the river hunk, Soft, warm and rich are the furs en wrapping the form ol the Indian maid, the pet of her trihe. Hut their texture in unnoted ly her ; their warmth 1111- felt ; their beauty unseen. Musical in the low tinkle of the chciished orna menu with which she was wont to he deck herself for the dance. Hut her earn Iieur not the sweet chime of the liver bulls whose twisted chaiiiH en twine her graceful ankles. Her eyes spmkle not lit the gleam of the yellow gold ImiuiuI iiIioiiI her pulseless brown nils anil ihrovl. The pule messenger of the (Jieat Spilit has claimed her for his hride. They have "clothed her in her richest garments, wrapped her in her robes of ermine" adorned her with bright jewel ; and thus she calmly wail her journey to the Islands of the Illcssed. The narrow white canoe receives its lifeless burden. The dark oarsmen take their places. Other canoe are tilled w ill) inomncls. Naught is heard save the splashing of the silvery water as the paddles strike its rippling sur face. Ilaik ! H sound of ailing ! soft mul low. Louder it grown, wililer and deeper still, till, echoed and re-echoed from dill' and hill, it seems (he voice of Nut 111 e herself bewailing the loss of her child. The dirge dies upon the air. Once more, in solemn hush, drill the canoes, ever toward the rock-rimmed island. Thus, w ill) alternate wall and silence, the daiksome shores of " Mima, loose" in reached, lit the bosom of Nut 111 e, her children lay the cold form of the young inuiden, with moaning ml with chanting. Almut her resting place these mourners will gather at mntiile, for many morns, to king their hymns of mourning and of praise. While dreaming I have Ihtii (mine down the mighty river, past scenes of wildest grandeur. 1 1 ills have rolled in billowy waves to meet the blue sky. Itasaltic walls and blull have readied upward thousands of feet, their sides iron-ridged, lava-ribbed, painted with lichens and bathed by waterfalls or sur passing beauty. I. est the mind weary in the miilst of so great sublimity, Nature has interspersed soul satisfying pictures' of quiet beauty. We are passing "Shell Kock, a mountain formed, as its name indicates, of shell stones. Its base rises Irom be neath the waters. Its .broken castel lated summit is among the clouds. Sombre gray, unlit by autumn hues, it stands u solemn majestic monument of the time when mountains sprang from the convulsed bosom of Mother Karth and stiffened stark and cold, ere they could return to their former home We near "Mitchell's Point " lifting its warning linger of stone heavenward. Heyowl it a great mass ol nigged moss clad rock, terraced, strengthened by abutments, anil bearing upon its top a small pointed butle. Near by, u hill, dressed in richest wine hues, smiles across at a gray bluff crowned with fir, and swathed in robes of autumnal glory. Now the Columbia folds in her cold embrace two swift-rushing mountain streams. Upon one side, hastening from the perpetual snows of proud old Hood, his most bewitching water-child, tumultuous little Hood. Upon the other side the beautiful While Salmon swill fleeing from the icy bonds of Adams. So near is Mount Hood that wc can see the shining of its ridges as they relied the sun-rays. Further on, the receding bank be comes a line of points and long jagged teeth ; their fierceness softened by glow- inr tint of clinging vine and shrub. Twenty-five hundred feet high, towers a point of solid rock guarding stern masses of gray basalt, unadorned by any fairy device of Nature. Now the hills dip lower. The wind falls, the waters seem deeper and bluer, reflecting the rare brightness of the foliage upon the banks. A score of tiny islets rise above the river's surface, each almost black at its base, shading upward into most delicate green. On we glide 1 each successive view more than worthy of an attempted de scription ; but this, neither my time nor the patience of the reader will permit. At best how weak are all word pictures of the glories of Nature. How meagre seems our stock of words ! How bound and hampered is the soul when it attempts to portray the sublime! We have passed Wind Mountain "Enchanted Mount" as the Indians call it, believing it the home of devas tating winds, Now wc reach the Cascades, a most picturesque spot where the river foams and dashes around stony isles that bear trees and shrubs upon their surfaces. One, an exquisite bit of nature is cone shaped with thick moss at its base, golden foliage above and at its summit a cluster of tall, dark firs. The river plunges in white heat, lash ing great black boulders ; blacker still they seem from contrast with the snowy seething waters. Upon a knoll stands the old block house, built in early times for defense against the savages. It is dark with Opposite, the mighty bights are cleft asunder ami in the gap Mt. Adams i age and peers solemnly out from its port-hole eyes, stands in regal pride. Now upon our left, perennial green, from the river-bank to upmost bight. Fir, pine, moss and fern, each brings its emerald tribute to grace the scene. Wc turn to the right and the eve is dazlcd with brilliancy. High hanks recede hundreds of feet all unbroken ; then suddenly becomingly ruggedly ir rcgular.they stretch into n level plateau, with velvety hills that terminate in lofty triangular bultes, the whole re joicing in a garb ol mingled hues maroon, pale silver, glenmings of oiangc, with palest pinks and deepest crimsons. Surely, the fairies them selves, had to do with the coloring. It is with a feeling of inexpressible awe that the traveller stands here, where mountains have been riven asunder to afford this angry waving stream its stony bed. Indian tradition says that, ages ago there was, just above this point, a natural bridge, fashioned by the hand of the Great Spirit himself, for the feet of his red children to pass over. In a moment of jealous rage, the hoary giants, Hood and Adams, leaned across in fierce combat. The mighty struggle shook the massive bridge from its foundation. Toppling, it fell ; filling with its ruins, the river, and producing I the foaming rapids below.