FORT Vancouver is situated on the north side of the Columbia river, about sixty rods from the shore, upon a prairie of some few hundred acres, surrounded with dense woods. The country around, for a great distance, is generally level and of good soil, covered with heavy forests, excepting some prairies interspersed, and has a pleasing aspect. It is in north latitude 45° 37', and longitude 122° 50', west from Greenwich--one hundred miles from the Pacific ocean. The enclosure is strongly stoccaded, thirty-seven rods long, and eighteen rods wide, facing the south. There are about one hundred white persons belonging to this establishment, and an Indian population of three hundred in a small compass contiguous. There are eight substantial buildings within the enclosure, and a great number of small ones without.
October 17th. After a night's rest in this fort, I left for Fort George, situated ninety-one miles below, near the confluence of the Columbia with the Pacific, known in the United States by the name of Astoria. I took this early departure that I might visit the lower part of the river and the sea coast, and return before the rainy season should commence; and also to avail myself of a passage in the May Dacre, from Boston, Capt. Lambert, a brig belonging to Captain Wyeth and Company, which was lying twenty-three miles below, at the lowest mouth of the Multnomah. Mr. J. K. Townsend, an ornithologist from Philadelphia, accompanied me to the brig. Our canoe was large and propelled by Sandwich Islanders, of whom there are many in this country, who have come here as sailors and laborers. Five miles below the fort, we passed the main branch of the Multnomah. It is a large river, coming from the south, and is divided by islands into four branches at its confluence with the Columbia. Here commences the Wâppatoo island, so called from a nutritive root found in the small lakes in the interior, which is much sought for by Indians as an article of food. This island is about eighteen miles long, and five miles wide, formed by a part of the Multnomah, branching off about six miles up the main river, running in a westerly and north-westerly direction, and again uniting with the Columbia eighteen miles below the main branch. The branch which flows around and forms the island, is about fifteen rods wide, and of sufficient depth for small shipping most of the year. It was upon this island the Multnomah Indians formerly resided, but they have become as a tribe, extinct. The land is very fertile, and most of it sufficiently high to be free from injury by the June freshet. Some parts of it are prairie, but the greatest part is well wooded with oak, ash, balsam fir, and the species of poplar often called balm of Gilead, and by most travelers, cotton-wood. At the south-west of this island, there is a range of mountains which render a space of the country broken, but beyond these, it is said by hunters, that there is an extensive valley well adapted to agriculture.
We arrived at the landing place of the May Dacre, at five o'clock in the afternoon, and were politely received on board by Capt. Lambert. The brig was moored alongside a natural wharf of basalt.
Sabbath, October 18th. Part of the day I retired to a small prairie back from the river, to be free from the noise of labor in which the men were engaged in preparing for their voyage; and part of it I passed in the state room which was assigned me. There is much reason to lament the entire disregard manifested by many towards God's holy Sabbath. His justice will not always be deferred. Those who will not submit to divine authority, must reap the fruit of their disobedience. None can slight and abuse the mercy of God with impunity.
Monday, 19th. The brig fell down the river with the tide, about three miles, but for the want of wind anchored. In the afternoon, I went on shore for exercise, taking with me a kanaka, that is, a Sandwich islander, for assistance in any danger. I made a long excursion through woods and over prairies, and found the country pleasant and fertile. The grass on the prairies was green, and might furnish subsistence for herds of cattle. When will this immensely extended and fertile country be brought under cultivation, and be filled with an industrious population? From time immemorial, the natives have not stretched forth a hand to till the ground, nor made an effort for the earth to yield a single article of produce, more than what springs up spontaneously; nor will they, until their minds are enlightened by divine truth. No philanthropist, who is not under the influence of Christian principles, will ever engage in the self-denying work of enlightening their minds, and arousing them from their indolence. As on our frontiers, soon these western shores, the work of destruction, introduced by those who would be called the friends of man, is going forward. The Indians in this lower country, that is, below the Cascades, are only the remnants of once numerous and powerful nations.
The evening was clear and pleasant, which gave us an opportunity to see the comet which was observed by Halley in the year 1682, and which was seen again in 1759, and now in 1835, proving its time of revolution to be about seventy-six and a half years. Its train of light was very perceptible and about twelve degrees in length.
We had a favourable wind on the 20th, which, with the current of the river, enabled us to make good progress on our way. Among the many islands, with which the lower part of this river abounds, Deer island, thirty-three miles below Fort Vancouver, is worthy of notice. It is large, and while it is sufficiently wooded along the shores, the interior is chiefly a prairie covered with an exuberant growth of grass and vines of different kinds, excepting the grape, of which there is none west of the Rocky Mountains of natural growth. In the interior of this island there are several small lakes, the resort of swans, geese and ducks. This island was formerly the residence of many Indians, but they are gone, and nothing is left except the remains of a large village.
Among some interesting islands of basalt, there is one called Coffin Rock, twenty-three miles below Deer island, situated in the middle of the river, rising ten or fifteen feet above high freshet water. It is almost entirely covered with canoes, in which the dead are deposited, which circumstance gives it its name. In the section of country from Wâppatoo island to the Pacific ocean, the Indians, instead of committing their dead to the earth, deposit them in canoes, and these are placed in such situations as are most
secure from beasts of prey; upon such precipices as this island, upon branches of trees, or upon scaffolds made for the purpose. The bodies of the dead are covered with mats, and split planks are placed over them. The head of the canoe is a little raised, and at the foot there is a hole made for water to escape.
A few miles below Coffin island, the Cowalitz, a river coming from the north-east, flows into the Columbia, which is about thirty rods wide, deep, and navigable for boats a very considerable distance. The country up this river is said to equal, in richness of soil, any part of the Oregon Territory, and to be so diversified with woods and prairies, that the farmer could at once reap the fruits of his labor.
We anchored for the night, on account of numerous sandbars and windings of the navigable channel. The evening was cloudy, and there was the appearance of a gathering storm; but we were so surrounded with high hills, that the situation was considered safe.
The wind, on the 21st, was light, which rendered our progress slow. This section of the country is mountainous, the ranges running from the south-east to the north-west, and covered with a very dense and heavy growth of wood, mostly fir and oak. A chief of the Skilloots with a few of his people came on board. He was very talkative and sportive. When he was about to leave, he told Capt. L. that as they had been good friends, and were now about to separate, he wished a present. Capt. L. told his steward to give him a shirt. The chief took it and put it on, and then said "how much better would a new pair of pantaloons look with this shirt." The captain ordered him the article asked for. Now, said the chief, "a vest would become me, and increase my influence with my people." This was also given. Then he added, "well, Tie*(* Chief, or gentleman), I suppose we shall not see each other again, can you see me go away without a clean blanket, which would make me a full dress." The captain answered, "go about your business; for there is no end to your asking so long as I continue to give." Then the chief brought forward a little son, and said, "he is a good boy; will you not make him a present?" Capt. L. gave him a few small articles, and they went away rejoicing over the presents which they had received, instead of regretting the departure of the May Dacre. We passed to-day Pillar rock, which stands isolated more than a half mile from the north shore, composed of basalt, and, is about forty feet high and fifteen in diameter. We anchored a few miles below.
On the morning of the 22d, we waited for a favorable tide until nine o'clock, when we got under way with a brisk wind from the east. Here the river begins to spread out into a bay, but owing to many shoals, the navigation is difficult. We ran aground, but the increase of the tide set us afloat again, and soon the great Pacific ocean opened to our view. This boundary of the "far west" was to me an object of great interest; and when I looked upon the dark rolling waves, and reflected upon the vast expanse of five thousand miles, without an intervening island until you arrive at the Japan coast, a stretch of thought was required, like contemplating infinity, which can measure only by succession its expansion and sublimity. Like the vanishing lines of perspective, so is contemplation lost in this extent of ocean.
As we proceeded on our way, we left Gray's bay at the right, extending inland to the north some few miles, in which on a voyage of discovery, the ship Columbia anchored, and from whose commander the bay took its name. Nearly opposite we passed Tongue Point, which extends about two miles into the bay or river, from the south. It is considerably elevated, rocky, and covered with woods. Soon after this, Astoria was announced. My curiosity was excited. I looked, but could not discover what to all on board was so plainly seen--I blamed my powers of vision--and reluctantly asked the captain, where is Astoria? "Why," he replied, "right down there--that is Astoria." I saw two log cabins, and said within myself, is that the far-famed "New York of the west ?"