wide.

The wild animals in the reservation are carefully protected by the custodians, no one being allowed to use a gun, and consequently they have become comparatively tame, and have increased in numbers. Passing along the roads, we saw on one occasion two deer, and at other times an elk and an antelope. The superintendent, in his official report, says that there are in the park four hundred head of buffalo, a few moose, numerous elk, estimated at twenty thousand, and large numbers of bears, which latter are sometimes troublesome. A herd of twenty or thirty elk was seen near this hotel on the morning before we arrived.

CHAPTER VII
DOWN THE COLUMBIA RIVER TO PORTLAND.

Portland, Oregon, July 1, 1892.

AFTER spending six days in the Yellowstone Park, which would have been far more comfortable if there had been less dust, fewer mosquitoes, and better roads, we again returned to Livingston, and took the train coming from the East at 8.15 p.m. All the next day and night and the day following we were passing through mountain scenery of wonderful beauty and grandeur, until at 11 p.m. we were landed at Pasco Junction, there being a cross-country railroad from that point to the Union Pacific, on the banks of the Columbia, where we wanted to go. There was a large station at Pasco, but not a porter nor a carriage to be seen. Many drinking places were open, and I interviewed several of the patriots who were lounging about in their shirt sleeves—for the thermometer registered one hundred degrees—and they pointed out the way to Cook’s Hotel, about a quarter of a mile off. Finally a porter came to our assistance and escorted us to the hotel, which was about as poor a one as could well be—close, hot, and uncomfortable. The beds were as hot as if there was a fire under them, and we, of course, slept but little. In the morning, after looking at a bad breakfast, which did not tempt our appetites, we got into the caboose of a freight train, and a very rough trip of two hours brought us to Wallula Junction, where the thermometer stood at one hundred degrees in the shade. Here we changed cars, and after two hours’ more riding, reached the Union Pacific Railroad, where we once more enjoyed the luxury of seats in a Pullman. There was no dining-room car attached to this train, but it stopped at a station for half an hour, and we were supplied with an excellent dinner. The polite and kind conductor told us not to hurry, that he would not start until we had all the dinner we wanted. We were about eight hours running on or near the southern banks of the Columbia River. The water was very high, and often ran swiftly over rough rocks in the bed of the stream, and around the bends with great force. The river appeared much wider than the Hudson, about the same width as the Danube at Vienna. The great rivers of Europe, Asia, Africa, and America all have their attractive peculiarities, and I often recall my remembrances of the St. Lawrence, Hudson, Mississippi, Rhine, Elbe, Danube, Seine, Nile, and Ganges with the greatest pleasure and satisfaction, and am thankful that I have been permitted to see them; but I must acknowledge that the Columbia, in beauty and grandeur, far surpasses them all. For long distances, you look out upon the wide and rushing water, and up to the lofty mountains which border the banks and far beyond, some covered with snow, and as picturesque and beautiful as anything an artist could dream of.

One of the most interesting things to be seen on the trip down the river is the method of catching salmon, which, as is well known, are as fine as any in the world. They are caught in immense numbers and sent to all parts of the country. During the dry season, a wall is built about twenty-five feet from the shore, forming a canal through which the water rushes with great force. In this canal is placed a large wheel, something like those on a sidewheel steamer, under which the water pours, causing it to revolve in a direction contrary to the current. The salmon swimming up stream try to jump over this obstruction, and falling into the wheel, are tossed up on a platform, and thus captured.

Our train arrived at this city at 9 p.m., and we were furnished with luxurious accommodations at “The Portland,” an hotel erected by a stock company, at a cost of one million dollars, and admirably kept by Mr. Leland, formerly of the Delavan, Albany, and the Clarendon, Saratoga. We found at the hotel all of the Alaska party in good health and spirits, and ready for the voyage as arranged.

Two days of exceptionally fine weather have given us an opportunity to see this beautiful city to the best advantage. The Honorable Benjamin Stark, formerly United States Senator from Oregon, now residing in New London, Connecticut, informed me that when he first landed at Portland in 1845, from the bark Toulon, there was not a house in the place, and the party was obliged to sleep in tents where now is a fine city of sixty-six thousand inhabitants, wide streets, elegant public and private buildings, electric and cable street railways, and all the appliances of modern civilization, in many respects in advance of Eastern cities. We saw a number of Japanese and Chinese stores filled with elegant goods, and attended by native salesmen.

CHAPTER VIII
TACOMA AND SEATTLE.

Tacoma, Washington, July 5, 1892.

WE left Portland at 8 a.m. on the 2d by rail, and arrived at this fine hotel, “The Tacoma,” at 3.30 p.m. after a very agreeable and comfortable trip. The first thing to attract our special attention was a view of Mount Tacoma, as seen from the rear windows of the hotel, truly a royal and splendid sight: a great mountain, of symmetrical shape, covered with pure white snow. There are not many such mountains to be seen anywhere; none so beautiful, as I remember, except the Jungfrau at Interlaken, and Fusiyama in Japan.

We have been in this place for three days, going about everywhere, and find it a wonderful example of a rapidly built city—solid and substantial, wide streets, great and costly public and private buildings, an admirable system of swift-going street cars, running in every direction, by cable or electric power; fine dry-goods and other stores, and every indication of great business activity and success.

The citizens inform us that in 1880 there were thirty thousand inhabitants in this city, and now there are fifty thousand. Judging from the crowds on the streets and in the street cars, and the business activity seen everywhere, this must be correct. We attended