The averages of temperature for the four seasons at these three points, Portland, Eola, and Corvallis, are as follows:

POINTS. Spring. Summer. Autumn. Winter.
Portland 51·9° 65·3° 52·8° 40·1°
Eola 48·3 63·7 51·2 38·2
Corvallis 52 67 53 41

The difference between the extremes is therefore for Portland, 25·2°; for Eola, 25·5°; for Corvallis, 26°. Contrast this with similar figures from Davenport, in the State of Iowa. The winter mean there is 19·9°, the summer 75·2°; showing a difference of 55·3°.

At Corvallis, throughout the summer months and till late in the fall, a daily sea-breeze springs up from the west about one o'clock in the afternoon, and continues till night closes in, and then dies off gradually. However pleasant this is to the settler heated in the hay- or harvest-field, it brings its perils too. I give an earnest caution not to be betrayed into sitting down in the shade to cool down, with coat and vest off, while this sea-breeze fans a heated brow, or a sore attack of rheumatism or its near relative, neuralgia, will very likely make you rue the day. Rather put on your warm coat and button it close, and let the cooling process be a very gradual one. But if, by your own forgetfulness of simple precautions, you have taken cold, and rheumatism has you in its grip, do not turn round and abuse a climate which is one of the most delightful in the whole temperate zone, but blame yourself, and yourself only.

In the winter of 1879-'80 we had a "cold snap." The day before Christmas the west wind suddenly veered round northward. What a bitter blast came straight from the icy north! The cattle set up their poor backs, and crowded, sterns to the wind, into the warmest corners of the open fields, and there stood with rough coats and drooping heads, the pictures of passive endurance. In two days the ice bore, and everything that could be called a skate was tied or screwed on to unaccustomed feet; and a beautiful display of fancy skating followed, as all the "hoodlums" of the town sought out the Crystal Lake or Fisher's Lake.

Then came the snow; and every one left off skating and took to sleighing. The livery-stable keepers made fortunes by hiring out the one or two real sleighs; but poor or economical people constructed boxes of all shapes and fastened them on runners, making up in the merriment of the passengers for the uncouthness of the vehicles.

But the snow, too, only lay a few days, and we were glad when our old friend the rain fell and restored to us the familiar prospect. For houses here are not constructed for extremes of temperature in either direction; and hot, dry air in the sitting-room, where the close stove crackles and grows red-hot, is a bad preparation for a bedroom with ten degrees of frost in it, or the outside air with the icy wind bringing a piece of Mount Hood and its glaciers into your very lungs.

The only good thing was, that it lasted so short a time. And during this last winter of 1880-'81 we have had no such experience.

FLOODS.Instead, we have had trial of floods—the highest since 1860-'61, the year of the great flood. After about twenty-four hours' snow, the wind went round to the south, and a soft, warm rain followed for nearly thirty-six hours more. This melted the snow, both on the Cascades and on and round Mary's Peak. The Mackenzie, which is the southeast fork of the Willamette, and comes straight from the Cascades, brought down a raging torrent into the more peaceful Willamette. All the tributary streams followed in their turn. Telegrams brought news from Eugene City, forty miles up the river, every hour, "River rising, six inches an hour." Soon the banks would not hold the water, which spread over the surrounding country.

Corvallis stands high on the river's bank; but looking across over the low-lying lands in Linn County, nothing but a sea of moving, brown water appeared, in which the poor farmhouses and barns stood as islands in the midst. The settlers who were warned in time cleared their families out of their houses, and left their dwellings and furniture to their fate. The horses and cattle that could be reached in time were swum across the river to safety on this side, and an excited crowd lined the river-bank, watching the swimming beasts and helping them to land, while every skiff that could be pressed into the service was engaged in bringing across the women and children and their most valued possessions. One man lost fourteen horses which had been turned out on some swampy land four miles below the city; others cattle, sheep, and pigs; and none within reach of the inundation—that is, within a belt of low land averaging two miles from the river in extent—but had their fences moved or carried away and heaped in wild confusion. The worst case I heard of was of a poor fellow from the East, who had just invested his all in a farm of fat and fertile bottom-land a few miles from Salem. He had repaired his house and furnished it, had stocked his farm, and had written for wife and family to join him. The rain descended, the flood came; higher and higher it rose, sweeping off fences, drowning cattle; it entered the house and spoiled all of its contents. The unlucky owner had to betake himself to a tree, whence he was picked by a passing skiff the next morning, bewailing his fate, and offering his farm as a free gift to any one who would give him enough dollars to return to the Eastern State whence he had just come.