The Canoe and the Saddle: Or, Klalam and Klickatat |
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American Antipodes Atinam beautiful blankets Boston hooihut camp canoe Captain Cascades CELILO FALLS chief Chinook jargon civilization Columbia copa courtesy Curtis & Miller Dalles Duke feet fire forest Fort Dalles Fort Nisqually Fort Vancouver frowzy Fudnun gallop Glacier grass Gubbins Hazard Stevens hiaqua hills horses Hudson's Bay Company Indian name Kamaiakan Klalams Klale Klickatats Lake look Loolowcan McClellan mika miles morning mountain Nachchese Naches Pass Nature night nika Nisqually noon Northwest Olyman Oregon Owhhigh Pacific paddle peaks Photograph by Curtis pines plain pork Port Townsend Potlatch prairie Puget Sound Rainier ride river road rock rough Saddle salmon savage Shabbiest shirt siwash Skloo snow Sowee spot Squally squaw Stevens stream summit sunset Tacoma Tamanoüs Theodore Winthrop Tolmie trail trees tribes tyee valley Vancouver wagons Walla Weenas Whulge wild Willamette Winthrop woods Yakima
Popular passages
Page 38 - ... near the western sea as mountains can stand, are the Cascades. Sailors can descry a land-mark summit, firmer than clouds, a hundred miles away. Kulshan, named Mount Baker by the vulgar, is their northernmost buttress up to 49 degrees and Fraser river. Kulshan is an irregular, massive, round-shaped peak, worthy to stand a white emblem of perpetual peace between us and our brother Britons. " Its name I got from the Lummi tribe at its base, after I had dipped in their pot at a boiled salmon feast....
Page 172 - It stood near the stony bed of the Atinam. The sun was setting as we came down into the valley, that moment abandoned by the sunlight. My Indians launched forward to pay their friendly greetings to the priests. But I observed them quickly pause, walk their horses, and noiselessly dismount. As I drew near a sound of reverent voices met me — vespers at this station in the wilderness. Three souls worshipping in the rude chapel attached to the house. It was rude indeed — a cell of clay — but the...
Page 120 - My old man has gone, gone, gone, — My old man to Tacoma, has gone. To hunt the elk, he went long ago. When will he come down, down, down, Down to the salmon-pot and me ?' ' He has come from Tacoma down, down, down, — Down to the salmon-pot and thee,' shouted the reformed miser, rushing forward to supper and his faithful wife.
Page 104 - Oregon people, in a climate where being is bliss, — where every breath is a draught of vivid life, — these Oregon people, carrying to a new and grander New England of the West a fuller growth of the American Idea, under whose teaching the man of lowest ambitions must still have some little indestructible respect for himself, and the brute...
Page v - AH, did you once see Shelley plain, And did he stop and speak to you And did you speak to him again ? How strange it seems and new...
Page 96 - ... laughed, as only men fresh and hearty and in the open air can laugh, the world became mainly grotesque : it seemed at once a comic thing to live, — a subject for chuckling, that we were bipeds, with noses, — a thing to roar at, that we had all met there from the wide world, to hobnob by a froliesome fire with tin pots of coffee, and partake of crisped bacon and toasted dough-boys in ridiculous abundance. Easy laughter infected the atmosphere. Echoes ceased to be pensive, and became jocose....
Page 34 - ... the pine-darkened sierra of the Cascade mountains, above the stern chasm where the Columbia — Achilles of rivers, sweeps, short-lived and jubilant, to the sea ; above the lovely vales of the Willamette and Umpqua.
Page i - I, lifting sleepy eyelids for a dreamy stare about, was suddenly aware of a vast white shadow in the water. What cloud, piled massive on the horizon, could cast an image so sharp in outline, so full of vigorous detail of surface? No cloud, as my stare, no longer dreamy, presently discovered — no cloud, but a cloud compeller. It was a giant mountain dome of snow, swelling and seeming to fill the aerial spheres as its image displaced the blue deeps of tranquil water.
Page 34 - Bay, a breadth of sheltered calmness, when I, lifting sleepy eyelids for a dreamy stare about, was suddenly aware of a vast white shadow in the water. What cloud, piled massive on the horizon, could cast an image so sharp in outline, so full of vigorous detail of surface? No cloud, as my stare, no longer dreamy, presently discovered, — no cloud, but a cloud compeller.
Page 217 - And in all that period while I was so near to Nature, the great lessons of the wilderness deepened into my heart day by day, the hedges of conventionalism withered away from my horizon, and all the pedantries of scholastic thought perished out of my mind forever.