No. XIX
A. M. D. G.
Fort Walla-Walla, July 18th, 1846.
Very Rev. and Dear Father Provincial,—I accepted the kind offer of Mr. Lewes, and took my seat in one of the barges of the Hudson Bay Company, on its way to Fort Vancouver. We stopped at Fort Okinagane, where I administered baptism to forty-three persons, chiefly children. Our passage was very pleasant and agreeable. I have little to add to what I have already stated in my preceding letters of last year, respecting our residence at Saint Francis Xavier’s, and the other Catholic establishments in the Willamette Valley and vicinity. St. James’ Church at Vancouver, St. John’s in Oregon City, St. Mary’s at the Convent, and St. Francis Xavier’s chapel have all been opened for divine service. The new church among the Canadians, and Cathedral, were fast progressing. The number of children in the Sisters’ school {229} had greatly increased, and a change for the better already taken place among the little metis girls confided to their care. Sister Loyola, the Superior, appeared delighted with their present conduct. Two Protestant families, among the most respectable in Oregon, Dr. Long and lady and Judge Burnet and family, were received into the bosom of the Catholic Church, in Oregon City.[287] Archbishop Blanchet and companions were anxiously expected; may the Lord speed them, and grant them a happy passage on the boisterous ocean—a route which, it appears, they have selected in order to reach their destined new homes. O, how large is the vineyard!—the Island of Vancouver alone contains upwards of twenty thousand Indians, ready to receive our missionaries—and an extensive field awaits the laborers, among the numerous nations of the north-west coast. The visits paid to these various tribes, by the Black-gowns, and the affection and kindness with which they are received by the Indians, leave little doubt of the ultimate success of their holy enterprise.
In order to return to the upper Missions, I started in the beginning of July, from Fort Vancouver, two days after the brigade of the Hudson Bay Company had left it. An accident {230} by the way, fortunately not attended with more serious consequences, here occurred to me. A powder-horn exploded near me accidentally, scorching me severely, and completely stripping the skin from my nose, cheeks and lips—leaving me to all appearance, after all my travels, a raw-faced mountaineer. I procured an Indian canoe, well-mounted, and soon found myself during a thunder storm, in the great gap of the Cascade Mountains, through which the mighty Columbia winds its way. The sublime and the romantic appear to have made a grand effort for a magnificent display in this spot. On both sides of the stream perpendicular walls of rock rise in majestic boldness—small rills and rivulets, innumerable crystalline streams pursue their way; murmuring down on the steep declivities, they rush and leap from cascade to cascade, after a thousand gambols, adding, at last, their foaming tribute to the turbulent and powerful stream. The imposing mass of waters has here forced its way between a chain of volcanic, towering mountains, advancing headlong with an irresistible impetuosity, over rocky reefs, and prostrate ruins, for a distance of about four miles; forming the dangerous, and indeed the last remarkable obstruction—the {231} great cascades of the Columbia. There is an interesting, and very plausible Indian account of the formation of these far-famed cascades, on which so much has been said and written, so many conjectures regarding earth-slides, sinks, or swells, caused by subterraneous volcanic agents. “Our grandfathers,” said an Indian to me, “remember the time when the waters passed here quietly, and without obstruction, under a long range of towering and projecting rocks, which, unable to bear their weight any longer, crumbled down, thus stopping up and raising the bed of the river; here it overflowed the great forests of cedar and pine, which are still to be seen above the cascades.” Indeed, the traveller beholds with astonishment, a great number of huge trunks of trees, still standing upright in water about twenty feet deep. No person, in my opinion, can form a just idea of the cause that produced these remarkable changes, without admitting the Indian narrative.
My baggage was soon conveyed to the upper end of the portage. The distance from the cascades to the dalles is about forty-five miles, and is without any obstacle. The mountain scenery on both sides of the river, with its {232} clusters of shrubs, cedars and pines, is truly delightful, heightened occasionally by the sight of the snow-capped Mounts Hood and St. Helena. A favorable breeze made us unfurl two blankets for the want of sails, and as we were gliding rapidly up the stream, we observed several islands of volcanic formation, where the Indians deposit their dead on scaffolds, or in little huts made of pieces of split cedar, frequently covered with mats and boards; great care is taken to hinder birds of prey, or the rapacious wolves, with their hyena stomachs and plundering propensities, from breaking in upon the abode of the dead.
The third day we arrived at the great dalles. Indians flock thither from different quarters of the interior, to attend, at this season of the year, to the salmon fisheries. This is their glorious time for rejoicing, gambling, and feasting; the long lent is passed; they have at last assembled in the midst of abundance—all that the eye can see, or the nose smell, is fish, and nothing but fish. Piles of them are lying everywhere on the rocks, the Indian huts abound with them, and the dogs are dragging and fighting over the offal in all directions. Not less than eight hundred Indians were present on this occasion. {233} One who has seen them five years ago, poor and almost naked, and who beholds them now, discovers with a peculiar feeling of humor and delight, the entire change in their external appearance, a complete metamorphosis, as Ovid would say. Their dresses are of the most grotesque character, regardless alike of their appropriateness to sex or condition of life. A masquerade character, as we understand it, will at least exhibit unity of design; but this Indian masquerade sets all unities at defiance. A stout, swarthy Indian, steps proudly by you, apparently conscious of the dignity conferred on him by his new acquisitions—a roundabout much too small for him, a pair of tights with straps, with an intervening space showing the absence of linen, form his body dress, while an old fashioned lady’s night-cap with large frills, and if he be rich enough, a sailor’s glazed cap carefully balanced above it, constitute his head dress; a pair, and sometimes half a pair of brogans, complete the ludicrous appearance of this Indian dandy. Some appear parading thro’ the camp in the full dress of a wagoner, others in a mixture composed of the sailor’s, the wagoner’s, and the lawyer’s, arranged according to fancy; but the favorite article of ornamental {234} dress appears to be the night-cap with its large frills; some again with only one article of dress. I have seen an old Indian showing off a pair of boots to the best advantage, as they formed the only article of his wardrobe then on his person. Indian squaws are seen attired in long calico gowns, little improved by the copious addition of fish oil, with which the taste or negligence of the present owners besmeared them; occasionally, if they can afford it, to this is superadded a vest, a flannel or great-coat. The dalles at present, form a kind of masquerading thoroughfare, where emigrants and Indians meet, it appears, for the purpose of affording mutual aid. When the Oregon emigrants arrive here, they are generally in want of provisions, horses, canoes, and guides—these wants the Indians supply, receiving in exchange the old travelling clothes of the doctors, lawyers, farmers, Germans, Frenchmen, Spaniards, &c., that pass through the dalles on their westward route. Hence the motley collection of pants, coats, boots, of every form and size, comforters, caps and hats of every fashion.
Here I overtook Messrs. Lewes and Manson,[288] who kindly offered me a place in one of the barges of the Company, which I gladly accepted—the transportation of their boats and goods {235} had taken up a whole day. From the great dalles to the upper sources of the Columbia, great care and attention are to be had in its navigation, for it presents a constant succession of rapids, falls, cascades, and dalles. Men of great experience, are here employed as pilots, and notwithstanding their skill and precaution, no river probably on the globe, frequented as much, could tell of more disastrous accidents.
At the dalles you enter a barren region, where drift wood is brought into every encampment by the Indians, for which they gladly receive a piece of tobacco in return. In the absence of the savages, the tombs of the dead are sometimes shamefully pillaged by civilized Christian travellers, taking away the very boards that cover the dead bodies, and thus leave them the prey of vultures and crows.
Indians linger on the Columbia as long as a salmon can be caught. Unconscious of the approaching winter, they do not lay in sufficient stock of provisions, and till late in the fall they may be seen picking up the dead and dying fishes which float in great numbers on the surface. In the immediate neighborhood of a camp the air is infected with the scent of {236} salmon in a state of putrefaction; they are suspended on trees, or on scaffolds, and to this unwholesome and detestable food has the improvident Indian recourse, when the days of his long lent commence.
You can scarcely form an idea of the deplorable condition of the poor petty tribes, scattered along the banks of the Columbia, of which the numbers visibly diminish from year to year. Imagine their dwellings, a few poor huts, constructed of rush, bark, bushes, or of pine branches, sometimes covered with skins or rags—around these miserable habitations lie scattered in profusion the bones of animals, and the offal of fishes of every tribe, amidst accumulated filth of every description. In the interior, you find roots piled up in a corner, skins hanging from cross poles, and fish boiling over the fire, a few dying embers; an axe to cut wood being seldom found among them. The whole stock of kitchen utensils, drinking vessels, dishes, etc., are comprised in something like a fish-kettle, made of osier, and besmeared with gum—to boil this kettle stones are heated red hot and thrown into it. But the mess cooked in this way, can you guess what it is? No, not in twenty trials—it is impossible to divine what {237} the ingredients are that compose this outlandish soup!