The Dalles daily chronicle. (The Dalles, Or.) 1890-1948, April 04, 1891, Page 4, Image 4

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page. It is also available as plain text as well as XML.

JBalerol AmuMmMti the 8ubjeet A
fint Coieoarw Present Tbe Speak -Stf
Specifier Amazements That . Are
Harmful and Those That Are Trot.
HEW Your, March 1. The aeries of ser
mons Dr. Tallage Is preaching in this city
mad Brooklyn on "The Plagues of the
Cities" is attracting general attention.
-At the morning service in Brooklyn and
s the evening services held under the
Mtspicesof The Christian Herald, in this
wity, the number of - persons who come to
hear the sermons Is far larger than either
of the buildings can accommodate. The
i to-day, which is the fourth of the
, is on "Baleful Amusements." . The
. text was II Samuel, it, 14: "Let the young
'men now arise and play before us."
There are two armies encamped by the
pool of Gibeon. The time hangs heavily
n their hands. One army proposes a game
mi sword fencing. Nothing could be more
-healthful and innocent. The other ..nay
accepts the challenge. Twelve men against
twelve men, the sport opens. But some
thing went adversely. Perhaps one of the
swordsmen got an unlucky clip, or in some
way hud his ire aroused, and that which
opened in -sportfnlness ended in violence,
-ach one taking his contestant by the hair,
iwd then with tbe sword thrusting him in
the side, so that that which opened in in
" "nocent fun ended in the massacre of all the
twenty-four sportsmen. Was there ever a
natter illustration of what was true then,
-(hud is true now, that that which Is inno
cent may be made destructive?
What of a worldly nature is more im
portant and strengthening and innocent
than amusement, an yet what has count
ed more victims? I have no sympathy with
a. straitjacket religion. This is a very
iBright world to me, and I propose to do all
1 can to make it bright for others.
PBKS8ED. I never could keep step to a dead march.
A book years ago issued says that a Chris
tian man has a right to some amusements.
.For instance, if he comes home at night
'weary from his work, and feeling in need
tt recreation, puts on his slippers, and
.goes into his garret and walks lively
round the floor several times there can be
no harm in it. I believe the church of
Clod has made a tremendous mistake in
trying to suppress the sportfulness of
youth and drive out from men their love
of amusement. If God ever Implanted
aything in us he implanted this desire.
But instead of providing for this demand
-f our nature, the church of God has, for
the main part, ignored it. As in a riot, the
mayor plants a battery at the end of the
wtreet, and has it fired off so that every
thing iscut down that happens to stand in
the range, the good as well as the bad, so
there are men in the church who plant
their batteries of condemnation and fire
way indiscriminately. Everything is con
demned. But my bible -commends those
who use the world without abusing it, and
in the natural world God has done every
thing to please and amuse us. In poetic
Agasre we sometimes speak of natural ob
jects as being in pain, but it is a mere
fancy. Poets say the clouds weep, but
they never yet shed a tear; and the winds
sigh, but they never did have any trouble;
aad that the storm howls, but it never lost
its temper. The world is a rose, and the
universe a garland.
And I am glad to know that in all our
cities there are plenty of places where we
may find elevated, moral entertainment.
But all honest men and good women will
gree with me in the statement that one of
tbe worst plagues of these cities is corrupt
amusement. Multitudes have gone down
under the blasting influence never to rise.
. U we may judge of what is going on in
many of the places of amusement by the
. Sodomic pictures on board fences and in
many of this show windows there is not a
much lower depth of proflgacy to reach.
At Naples, Italy, they keep such pictures
locked up from indiscriminate inspection.
Those pictures were exhumed from Pom
peii and are not fit for public gaze. If the
effrontery of bad places of amusement in
hanging out improper advertisements of
what they are doing night by night grows
worse in the same proportion, in fifty years
Slew York and Brooklyn will beat not only
Hompeli, but Sodom.
' To help stay the plague now raging I
. "project certain principles by which you
may judge iu regard to any amusement or
recreation, finding out. for yourself whether
it is right or whether it is wrong.
I remark in tbe first place that you can
judge of the moral character of any amuse
ment by its healthful result or by its bale
ful reaction. There are people who seem
made up of hard facts. They are a com
bination of multiplication tables and sta
tistics. If you show them an exquisite
picture tbey will begin to discuss the pig
t ments involved in the coloring. If you
show them a beautiful rose they will sub
- mit it to a botanical analysis, which is only
the post-mortem examination of a flower.
They have no rebound in their nature.
. TSiey never do anythiug more than smile.
There are no great tides of feeling surging
up from the depths of their soul in billow
nter billow of '-reverberating laughter.
Tney seem as if nature had built them by
contract and made a bungling job of it.
But, blessed be God, there are people in
the world who have bright faces, and
"whose life is a song, an anthem, a ocean of
of victory. Even Kieir troubles are like
the vines that crawl np the side of a great
tower, on the top of which the sunlight
tits, and the soft airs of summer hold per
petual carnival. They are the people you
4ike to have come to your house; tbey are
- the people I like to have come to my house.
If you but touch the hem bf their gar
ments you are healed.
Now it is these exhilarant and sympa
thetic and warm hearted people that are
most tempted to pernicious amusements.
Ia proportion as a ship is swift it wants a
strong helmsman; in proportion as a horse
is gay, it wants a stout driver; and these
"people of exuberant nature will do well to
look at the reaction of all their amuse
ments. If an amusement sends yon home
-at night nervous so that you cannot sleep,
and yon rise up In the morning, not be
eause yon are slept out, but because your
-duty drags yon from your slumbers, you
have been where you onght not to have
ibeon. There are amusements that send a
man next day to his work bloodshot, yawn
ing, stupid, nauseated; and they are wrong
kinds of amusement. They are entertain
ments that give a man disgust with the
-drudgery of life, with tools because they
re not swords, with working aprons be
cause they are not robes, with cattle be
teanse they are not infuriated bulls of the
wen a. - : ' -
If any amusement sends yon home long
ing for a life of romance and thrilling ad
Venture, love that takes poison ' and shoots
Itself, moonlight adventures and hair
breadth escapes, yon, may depend noon It
that you are the sacrificed victim of un
anctiiied pleasure. Our recreations are
intended to build up, and if they pull us
down as to our moral or as to our physical
strength you may come to the conclusion
that they are obnoxious.
There is nothing more depraving than
attendance upon amusements that are full
of innuendo and low suggestion. The young
man enters. " At first he sits far back.,- with
his hat on and his coat collar up, fearful
that somebody there may know him. Sev
eral nights pass 09. He takes off his hat
earlier and puts his coat collar down. The
blush that first came into, his cheek when
anything indecent was enacted comes no
more to his check. Farewell, young man!
You have probably started on the long road
which ends in consummate destruction.
The stars of hope will go out one by one,
until you will be left in utter darkness.
Hear you not the rush of the maelstrom, in
whose outer circle your boat now dances,
making merry with the whirling waters?
But you are being drawn in, and the gen
tle motion will become terrific agitation.
You cry for help. In vain! You pull at
the oar to put back, but the struggle will
not avail! You will be tossed and dashed
and shipwrecked and swallowed in the
whirlpool that has already crushed in its
wrath ten thousand hulks.
Young men who have just come from
country residence to city residence will do
well to be on guard and let no one induce
you to places of improper amusement. It
is mightily alluring when a young man,
long a citizen, offers to show a new comer
all around.
Still further. Those amusemunts are
wrong which lead you into expenditure be
yond your means. Money spent in recrea
tion is not thrown away. It is all folly for
us to come from a place of amusement feel
ing that we have wasted our money and
time. You may by it have made au, ia
vestment worth more thau the transaction
that yielded you hundreds or thousands of
dollars. But how many properties have
been riddled by costly amusements.
The first time I ever saw the city it was
the city of Philadelphia I was a mere lad.
I stopped at a hotel, and I remember in tbe
eventide one of these men plied me with
his infernal art. He saw I was green. He
wanted to show me the sights of the town.
He painted the path of sin until it looked
like emerald; but I was afraid of him. I
shoved back from the basilisk I made up
my mind he was a basilisk. I remember
how he wheeled his chair round in front of
me, and with a concentrated and diabolical
effort attempted to destroy my soul; but
there were good angels in the air that
night. It was no good resolution on my
part, but it was the all encompassing grace
of a good God that delivered me. Beware!
beware! oh, young man. "There is a way
that seemet h right unto a man, but the end
thereof is death."
The table has been robbed to pay the
club. The champagne has cheated the
children's wardrobe. The carousing party
has burned up the boy's .primer. The
tablecloth of the corner saloon is in debt to
the wife's faded dress. Excursions that in
a day make a tour around a whole month's
wages; ladies whose lifetime business it .is
to "go shopping;" large bets on horses
have their counterparts in uneducated
children, bankruptcies that shock the
money market and appal the church, and
that send drunkenness staggering across
the richly figured carpet of the mansion
and dashing into the mirror and drowning
out the carol of music with the whooping
of bloated sons come home tp break their
old mother's heart. .
I saw a beautiful home, where tbe bell
rang violently late at night. The son had
been off in sinful indulgences. His com
rades were bringing him borne. . They car
ried him to the door. They rang tbe bell
at 1 o'clock in the morning. Father and
mother came down. They were waiting
for the wandering son, and then the "com
rades, as soon as the door was opened,
threw the prodigal headlong into the door
way, crying: "There he is, drunk as a fool!
Ha, ha!" When men go into amusements
they cannot afford they first borrow what
they cannot earn, and then they steal what
they cannot borrow. First they go into em
barrassment, and then into lying, and then
into theft; and when a man gets as far on
as that he does not stop short of the peni
tentiary. There is not a prison in tbe land
where there are not victims of unsanctified
Merchant of Brooklyn or New York, is
there a disarrangement in your accounts?
Is their a leakage in your money drawer?
Did not the cash account come out right
last night? I will tell you. There is a
young man in your store wandering off
into bad amnsements. The salary yon
give him may meet lawful expenditures,
but not the sinful indulgences in which he
has entered, and he takes by theft that
which you do not give him in lawful
salary. -
How brightly the path of unrestrained
amusement opens. The young man says:
"Now I am off for a good time. Never
mind economy. I'll get money somehow.
What a fine road! What a beautiful day
for a ridel Crack the whip, and over the
turnpike! Come, boys, fill high your
glasses. Drink! Long life, health, plenty
of rides just like this!" Hard working
men hear the clatter of the hoofs and look
up and say: "Why, I wonder where those
fellows get their money from! We have to
toil and drudge; They do nothing." To
these gay men life is a thrill and an excite
ment. They stare at other people, and in
turn are stared at. The watch chain
jingles. The cup foams. The cheeks
flush. The eyes flash. The midnight hears
their guffaw. They swagger. They jostle
decent men off the sidewalk. They take
the name of God in vain. They parody the
hymn they learned at their mother's knee:
and to all pictures of coming disaster they
cry out, "Who cares!" and to the counsel
of some Christian friend, "WJbo are you?"
Passing along the street some night yon
hear a shriek in a grog shop, the, rattle of
the watchman's club, the rush of the po
lice. What is the matter now? Oh, this
reckless young man has been killed in a
grog shop fight. Carry him home to his
father's house. Parents will come down
and wash his wounds and close his eyes in
death. They forgive him all he ever did,
although he cannot in his silence ask it.
The prodigal has got home at last. Mother
wQl go to her little garden and get tbe
sweetest flowers,-and twist them into a
cbaplet for the silent heart of the wayward
boy, and push back from the bloated brow
the long locks that were once her pride.
And the air will be rent with the agony.
The great dramatist says, "How sharper
than a serpent's tooth it is to have a thank
lees child." , - : .
I go further, and say those are unchris
tian amusements which become the chief
business of a man's life. Life is an earnest
thing. Whether we' were born in a pal
ace or hovel, whether we are affluent or
pinched, we havs to work. If yon do not
sweat with toil, you will sweat with dis
ease. You have a soul that is to be trans
figured amid the pomp of a judgment
day; and after the sea has sung its last
chant and the mountain shall have come
down iu an 'avalanche of a rock, you will
live and tbink and act, high on a throne
where seraphs sing, or deep in a dungeon
where demons howl. In a world where
there is so much to do for yourselves, and
so much to do for others, God pity that
man who has nothing to do. . .
Your sports are merely means to an end.
They arc alleviations and helps. Tio arm
of toil is tbe only arm strong enough to
bring up the bucket out of the deep well o
pleasure. Amusement is only the bower
where business and philanthropy rest wUiic
on their way to stirring achievements.
Amusements are mere! y the vines that grow
about the anvil of toil and the blossoming of
the hammers. Alas for the man who spends
his life in laboriously doing nothing, his
days in hunting up lounging places and
loungers, his nights in seeking out some
gas lighted foolery! The man who always
has on his sporting jacket, ready to hunt
for game in the mountain or fish in the
brook, with no time to pray or work or
read, is not so well off as the greyhound
that runs by his side, or the fly bait with
which he whips the stream. v
A man who does not work does not know
how to play. If God had intended us to
do nothing but laugh he would not have
given us shoulders with which to lift, and
hands with which to work, and brains with
which to think. The amusements of life
are merely the orchestra playing while the
great tragedy of life plunges through its
five acts infancy, childhood, manhood, old
age and death. Then exit the last earthly
opportunity. Enter the overwhelming real
ities of an eternal world!
I go further, aud say that all those
amusements are wrong which lead into
bad company. If you go to any place
where you have to associate with the in
temperate, with the unclean, with the
abandoned, however well they may be
dressed, in the name of God quit it. They
will despoil your nature.- They will un
dermine your moral character. They will
drop you when you are destroyed. They
will give not one cent to support your chil
dren when you are dead. They will weep
not one tear at your burial. They will
chuckle over your damnation.
I had a friend at the west a rare friend.
He was one of the first to welcome me to
my new home. To fine personal appear
ance he added a generosity, frankness and
ardor of nature that made me love him
like a brother. But I saw evil people gath
ering around him. They came up from
tho saloons, from the gambling hells.
They plied him with a thousand arts.
They seized upon his social nature, and he
could" not stand the charm. They drove
him on the rocks, Jike a ship full winged,
shivering on the breakers. I used to ad
monish him. I would say, "Now I wish
you would quit these bad habits and be
come a Christian." "Oh," he would reply,
"I would like to, I would like to, but I
have gone so far I don't think there is any
way back." In his moments of repentance
he would go home and take his little girl
of 8 years, and embrace her convulsively,
and cover her with adornments, and strew
around her pictures and toys and every
thing that could make her happy; and
then, as though hounded by an evil spirit,
he would go out to the enflaming cup and
the house of shame, like a fool to the cor
rection of the stocks.
I was summoned to his deathbed. I
hastened. I entered the room. .1 found
him, to my surprise, lying in full every day
dress on the top of the couch. . I put out
my hand. He grasped it excitedly and
said, "Sit down, Mr. Talmage, right there."
I sat down. He said: "Last night I saw
my mother, who has been dead twenty
years, and she sat just where you sit now.
It was no dream. I was wide awake.
There was no delusion in the matter. I
saw her just as plainly as I see yon. : Wife,
I wish you would take these strings off of
me. There are strings spun all around my
body. I wish you would take them off of
me." I saw it was delirium.
"Oh," replied his wife, "my dear, there
is nothing there, there is nothing there."
He went on, and said: "Just where you sit,
Mr. Talmage, my mother sat. She said to
me, 'Henry, I do wish you would do bet
ter.' I got out of bed, put my arms around
her, and said: 'Mother, I want to do bet
ter. I have beeu trying to do better.
Won't you help me to do better? You
used to help me.' No mistake about it, no
delusion. I saw her the cap, and the
apron, and the spectacles, just as she used
to look twenty years ago; but I do wish you
would take these strings away. They
annoy me so. I can hardly talk. Won't
you take them away?" I knelt down and
prayed, conscious of the fact that he did
not realize what I was saying. I got up. 1
said, "Good-by; I hope you will be better
soon." He said, "Good-by, good-by."
That night his soul went to the God who
gave it. - Arrangements were made for the
obsequies. . Some said, "Don't bring him
in the church; he was too dissolute."
"Oh," I said, "bring him. He was a good
friend of mine while he was alive, and I
shall stand by him now that he is dead.
Bring him to the church."
As I sat iu the pulpit and saw his body
coming up through the aisle I felt as if 1
could weep tears of blood. I told the peo
ple that day: "This man had bis virtues,
and a good many of them. He had his
faults, and a -good many of them, but if
there is any man in this audience who ia
without sin let him cast the first stone at
this coffin lid." On one side the pulpit sat
that little child, rosy, sweet faced, as beau
tiful as any little child that sat at your
table this morning, I warrant you. She
looked up wistfully, not knowing the full
sorrows of an orphan child. Oh, her coun
tenance haunts me today like some sweet
face looking upon us through a horrid
dream. On the other side of the pulpit
were the men who had destroyed him.
There they sat, hard visaged, some of them
pale from exhausting disease, some of
them flushed until it seemed as if the fires
of iniquity flamed through the cheeks and
crackled the lips. They were the men who
bad done the work. They were the men
who had bound him hand and foot. . They
had kindled tbe fires. They had ponred the
wormwood and gall into that orphan's cap.
Did they weep? No. Did they sigh re
pentingly? No. Did they say, "What a
pity that such a brave man should be
slain?" No, no; not one bloated hand was
lifted to wipe a tear from a bloated cheek;
They sat and looked at the coffin like vul
tures gazing at the carcass of a lamb whose
heart they bad ripped out! I cried in their
ears as plainly as I could, "There is a God
and a judgment day!" Did they tremble?
Oh, no, no. They went back from the
house of God, and that night, though their
victim lay in Oakwood cemetery, I was
told that they blasphemed, and they drank,
and they gambled, and there was not one
less customer in all the houses of iniquity.
This destroyed man was, a Samson in phys
ical strength, but Delilah sheared him, and
the Philistines of evil companionship dug
his eyes out and threw him into the prison
of evil habits. But in the hour of his death
he rose up and took hold of the two pil
lared curses of God against drunkenness
and- uocleuunesx, and threw htmaclf for
ward, until down upon him and bis com
panions there came the thunders of an
eternal catastrophe. -v
Again, any amusement that gives you a
distaste for domestic life is bad. How
many bright domestic circles, have been
broken -up by sinful amusements! The
father went off, the mother went off, the
child went off. There are today the frag
ments before me of blasted households. Oh,
if you have wandered away, I would like to
charm you back by tbe sound of that one
word, "home." Do you not know that
you have but little more time to give to do
mestic welfare? Do -yon not see, father,
that your children are soon to -go out into
the world, and all the influence for good
you are to have over them you must have
now? Death will break in on your conju
gal relations, and alas! if you have to
stand over the grave of one who perished
from your neglect!
I saw a wayward busbau.: stmvling at
the deathbed of his Ch.rir.Man wife, and I
saw her point to a ring on her finger ami
heard lier say to her husband, "Do you see
that ring?" He replied, "Yct, 1 see it."
"Well," said she, "do you reroeui !ir who
put it there?" "Yes," said he, "1 put it
there," and all the past seemed to rush
upon him. By the memory of that day
when, in the presence of mea aud ai;;;elK,
voti promised to be faithful in joy r.nd sor
row, and in sickness and in health; by the
memory of those pleasant hours when you
sat together ia your new home talking of
a bright fature; by the cradle an.l the joy
ful hour when one life was spared and an
other given; by that sick bed, when the
little one lifted up the hands and called for
help, and you knew he must die, and he
put one arm around each of your necks and
brought you very near together in that
dying kiss; by the little grave in Greeu
wood that you never think of without a
rush of tears; by the family Bible, where,
amidst stories of heavenly love, is the brief
but expressive record of births and deaths;
by tbe neglects of the past, and by tbe
agonies of the future; by a judgment day,
when -husbands and wives, parents and
children, in immortal gronps, will stand to
be caught up in shining array or to shrink
down into darkness; by all that, 1 beg you
give to borne your best affections.
Ah, my friends, there is an hour coming
when our past life will probably pass be
fore us iu review. It will be our last hour.
If from our death pillow we have to look
back and see a life spent in sinful amuse
ment there will be a dart that will strike
through our soul sharper than the dagger
with which Viiginius slew his child. The
memory of the past will make us quake
like Macbeth. The iniquities and rioting
through which we have passed will come
upon us, weird and skeleton as Meg Mer
rilies.. Death, the old Shylock, will de
mand and take the remaining pound of
flesh, and tbe remaining drop of blood,
and upon our last opportunity for repent
ance and our last chance for heaven the
curtain will forever drop.
A Polynesian legend.
Tnra, coming from over seas, found him
self in a land named Otea, and leaving
his canoe journeyed inland. Traveling
through the dense forest, he saw fairies sit
ting in the 'flowers of the climbing plants
and swinging on the 1 lianas which trailed
from the high boughs across the vistas of
the wood. These fairies were curiously
shaped beings, having small heads and
large bodies, while their hands and feet
were attached to limbs so short that thej
seemed as if extruding from their bodies.
Tura had brought with him the sticks
wherewith fire is produced by friction, and
he proceeded to kindle a fire and to cook
some food, much to the astonishment of
the fairies, who had always consumed their
food in its natural state. Tura fell in love
with one of the fairy women and married
her. His wife reciprocated his affection
and they lived happily together; but one
day when the elfin spouse was combing
out her husband's hair she suddenly cried
out, "Oh, Tura, what is this white hair
among tbe black ones?"
He told her that it was a sign of age and
of approaching decay, the forerunner of
death. Then his wife wept bitterly and
refused to be comforted. It is a touching
story, the sudden surprise and grief of this
child of the immortals on her discovery of
that which to us poor sons of clay is so
common and obtrusive a fact. The old
legend has given rise to a proverbial say
ing, "The weeds of Tura," as a synony
mous expression for gray hair. Longman's
Queer Artistic Blunders. , "-
Some very curious blunders may be seen
in old pictures. It is related that Bur
gonne in his "Travels in Spain" noticed a
painting where Abraham is preparing to
shoot Isaac with a pistol, and in a country
church in Germany the painter, in repre
senting the sacrifice of Isaac, places a blun
derbus in Abraham's- hand as argument
for obedience, and paints an angel coming
down to pour water on the pan.
Huer has painted the Blessed Virgin
as resting on a velvet sofa playing with a
cat and a paroquet, and about to pour her
self coffee from an engraved coffee pot.
In Durer's picture of St. Peter denying
the Saviour a Roman soldier may be seen
smoking a pipe. Providence Journal.
The Scotch Beadle.
Of course he was fond of his snuff, and
made free with the "mull," as the Scot
terms his snuff box, right and left. An
old beadle himself tells of having got a
sharp reproof from the pulpit because of
his too devoted attention in this particu
lar. "When the minister was preaching,"
says he, "a neighbor asked a snuff, and I
gave him my box. The minister saw us
and just leaned over the pulpit, looked
straight in our faces, and said, 'There are
some of you more concerned about your
noses than about your souls' salvation.'
After that I was very careful never to pass
my box in church again." Gentleman's
' Two Opinions of Southev.
One year when I was up in the Lake
country I was sketching at Rydal Water,
when a gentleman came up behind me,
and after watching me as I painted for
some time said, "The man who can do that
should have a name." I answered just as
he moved away, "The man who can see
that ought to have a name, too." He looked
very peculiar, and I asked some men who
were working in a stone quarry close by
if they knew who he was. "Oh, yes," they
said; "why, that's Southey, the poet. He's
a funny fellow." "How funny?" I asked.
"Why, he's mad," they answered. T. Sid
ney Cooper. , '
Satisfied. -
Little Man (excitedly) I'm hunting for
a man named Bibbs, who said I was a toad
stool. ' ;
Big Man (calmly)--I'm Bibbs, but I didn't
tall you a toadstool. I said you belonged
to the mushroom aristocracy.
Little Man (backing off) That's all right.
We're all fond of mushrooms. Good News.
is here and has come to stay. It hopes
to win its way to public favor by ener
gy, industry and merit; and to this end
we ask that you give it a fair trial, and
if satisfied with its course a generous
The Daily V
four pages of six columns each, will be
issued every evening, except Sunday,
and will be delivered in the city, or sent
by mail for the moderate sum of fifty
cents a month.
Its Objects
will be to advertise the resources of the
city, and adjacent country, to assist in
developing our industries, in extending
and opening up new channels for our
trade, in securing an open river, and in
helping THE DALLES to take her prop
er position as the
Leading City of Eastern Oregon.
The paper, both daily and weekly, will
be independent in politics, and in its
criticism of political matters, as in its
handling of local affairs, it wilj. be
We will endeavor to give all the lo
cal news, and we ask that your criticism
of our object and course, be formed from
the contents of the paper, and not from
rash assertions of outside parties.
sent to any address for $1.50 per year.
It will contain from four to six eight
column pages, and we shall endeavor
to make it the equal of the best. Ask
your Postmaster for a copy, or address.
Office, N. W. Cor. Washington and Second Sts.
The Grate City of the Inland Empire is situated at
the head of navigation on the Middle Columbia, and
is a thriving, prosperous city.
It is the supply city for an extensive and rich agri
cultural an I grazing country, its trade reaching as
far south as Summer Lake, a distance of over twe
hundred miles.
The rich grazing country along the eastern slope
of the the Cascades furnishes pasture for thousands
of sheep, the 'wool from which finds market here.
The Dalles is the largest original wool shipping
point in America, about 5,000,000 pounds being
shipped this year. O
The salmon fisheries are the finest on the Columbia,
yielding this year a revenue of $1,500,000 which can
and will be more than doubled in the near future.
The products of the beautiful Klickital valley find
market here, and the country south and east has this
year filled the warehouses, and all available . storage
places to overflowing with their products.
It is the richest city of its size on the coast, and its
money is scattered over and is being used to develop,
more farming country than is tributary to any other
city in Eastern Oregon.
Its situation is unsurpassed! Its climate delight
ful! Its possibilities incalculable! - Its resources un
limited! And on these corner stones she stands.