The Log School-House on the Columbia

voice always, and the tune was a battle-cry. The hymn on which she was exercising her limited gifts was not one of the happy tunes of Metho

ony poured forth

a two-ed

now are most

re condemnèd

seemed to have the view that a large population of the world were of th

remarked to herself. "Thank Heaven,

e scintillant sunlight. It was an aged Indian, wal

said. "What ca

bowed and sat down on a log

ow has drifted away on the tide of years-

better nature. She presently added, as though she had been too generous,

a child is weary, I take him by the hand and point him to the smoke of his wigwam. He goes home and sleeps. I am weary. The Great Spirit has taken me by

, the English explorer who named the seas and mountains for his lieutenants and friends, Puget, Baker, Ranier, and Townsend. He had known the forest lords of the Hudson Bay Company, and of Astoria; had seen the sail of Gray as it entered the Columbia, and had heard the preaching of Jason

to her better self again. "I don't say it about many p

are better than I-I will be my desires by and by. My staff is in my hand, and I am going home. The old warriors have gone home. They were thick as the flowers of the field, thick as the stars of the night. My boys are gone

d figures of speech. It is picture-speaking. The Indians are all poets in their imaginations, like children. This habit of personification grows in the Indian mind with

He then laid down his pi

hildren. He loves the smoke of the wigwam, and the green fields of the flowers, and t

ough her. I want her to speak for me. My people are angry. There are butcher-birds among them. They hate you-they hate the ca

sun on the border of the night. Then come Potlatch. My people a

They will think of little ones, they will think of departed ones, they will think of the hunt-they will see graves. Then the night will pass. Then the

and have her play the violin on the great night of the Potlatch. He hoped that the influence of the music woul

she said. "You mean well. I

But his steps became free after a little walking, and he moved slowly away. Poor old chief of the Cascades! It was something like

Mrs. Woods told her what had happen

-houses. He said: "Gretchen, go! Your

o. Something unseen is leading me-I feel it. I do not know the way, but I can trust my guide. I ha

or Mrs. Woods! She had never been a mother.

s to harden my heart; but, no matter what you may do, Gretchen, I'll always be a mother to you. You'll always find the

you about Benjamin. He told me a few days ago that he hated you, b

up. "Well, I hate him, and I'll never forgiv

friendly and forgiving to Benjamin, for his sake? I wish

ight about these things, and I'm goin' to have a goo

would tell

hy

makes on

s the same with folks. But my nature don't break up easy. I shall come out right some time. I tell you I'm goin' t

use every influence to prevent it. The very mention of the Potlatch filled her with recent ter

settlers feared, at the approaching Potlatch; and the thought of th

story of the tragedy which was n

NJURED

ssouri, which enabled him to convince the United States Government not only that Oregon could be reached, but that it was worth possessing. Exact history has robbed this story of some

who agreed to cross the Rocky Mountains with their husbands, Whitman and Spaulding; h

tive land,

the Great Divide, beside the open Bible and under the American flag, and took possession of th

lla Walla, and Waülaptu. They were a superstitious, fierce, and revengful race. They fully believed in witchcraft or conjuring, and in the power to work evil through familiar

eatment. When an Indian began to show the fever which is characteristic of the disease, he was put into and inclosed in a hot clay oven. As soon as

" undertook a case and failed to cure, he forfeited his own life. The killing o

. He was a man of strong character, and of fine tastes and ideals. The mission-house was an imposin

mpathetic as she was heroic. The colony became a prosperou

rcumstance comes a story, related to me by an old Territorial officer, which may be new to most readers. I do not vouch for it, but only say that the narrator of the principal incidents is an old Territorial ju

armer one morning, returning from the gardens of the station. "One theft wi

was an August morning. The air was a living splendor, clear and warm, wit

nd considered the question ha

vent boys from stealing me

ow

In the morning it would be gone, but the b

understood the re

they had eaten that one. The subject no longer interested them. I gu

eves over a melon like that!" said the garde

rom the medical stores of the station, and plugged it into three or four

had a troubled look, and there was an air of mystery about his gait and attitude. He

er in the camp. Indian kill conjurer. Con

bout the nauseating melons, and guessed why he had come. All la

"he conjure melons. One moo

ers laugh

all suffer-half moon, more mo

serious. The tall Indian sa

s. "Braves double up so"-he bent over, opening and folding his blanket

puzzled look

ain," said the miss

Indian. "You know-you conj

d strode away with an injured look in h

oke," said the mission

there was a perceptible coolness in the

rved to spend many of the lengthening evenings with the Cayuses in their lodges

om him, seems to have been on intimate terms with Stanfield, and the two became bitter enemies to the

e was the terror of the Northwestern tribes. The Cayuses caught the infection. Many sickened and died, and Whitman was app

British and American fur-traders were seeking these treasures on every hand. But at the beginning of t

Five Crows, the warrior, was there with Joe Lewis, of Whitman's household, and Joe Stanfield, alike suspicious and treacherous,

ipal speaker. Addressin

. Who sends Death among you? The White Chief (Whitman). And why does the White Chie

ople themselves have the

ll Indian arose and spread his blanket open like a wing. He stood for a time silen

appeared at the mission after

onary chief. He say, 'I make the melons well.' I leave the braves sick, with their faces turned white, when I go to the chief. I re

ers. The council resolved that all the medicine-men in the country should be

t of the secret council or c

but he did not know what was hidden behind the dark curtain. His great sou

ing. He rode hither and thither on the autumn d

regon City f

told me that the Indians are about to kill all the medi

McKinley, "a Cayus

od, and glistened on the serrated mountain tents of eternal snow. The Indians conti

and his wife were the first to fall. Then horror succeeded horro

y indignantly deny it. I have studied the whole subject for years with this opinion, that the Indian outbreak

mind against one of the bravest men that America has produced, and who

not as exact history; but this tradition w

oke of the Potlatch, this scene came

TNO

Historic