OCR Text |
Show THE WAY TO OREGON. 397 mostly left, and a smaller community of farmers, graziers and vine-growers have to pay the debt and run the county. Early next morning we took the coach again, and soon after day-light crossed the Klamath River by a " swing- ferry." The valley amounts to but little, as the river runs between rugged hills through most of its course ; but on its headwaters is the greatest game district in the West, perhaps in the world. All varieties of game abound, and the cool waters of Klamath Lake are alive with trout. Only its re-mote and inaccessible position prevents its being a place of great re-sort. Soon after we enter Oregon, and the first impression is that the State is covered by one immense and gloomy forest. In places the very daylight seemed to vanish into a mild twilight, and in the few " clearings" we passed through, the sunshine was novel and enjoyable. After noon the country began to show signs of improvement ; settlers' cabins became numerous, and, after running down a narrow canon, we came out into the beautiful valley of Rogue River. Here is said to be the finest climate in Oregon, and to wearied passengers just over the mountains the sight was a revelation of beauty. Where we enter, the valley is no more than two miles wide, but as we go down it widens gradually to fifteen or twenty, while on every hand appear fine farms, thrifty orchards, great piles of red and yellow apples of wondrous size, barns full of wheat, and fine stock, and we feel with delight that we are out of the mountains and " in the settlements." Though far retired from the road, the mountains still appear rugged and lofty, sending out a succession of rocky spurs one every two or three miles and between these, far back into the hills, extend most beautiful coves. The air was mild, the roads firm and smooth, and the coach rolled along with just enough of motion to give variety and appetite. Plows were running in the fields, " breaking summer fallow for spring wheat," said the natives ; and the farm work showed that no freeze was to be apprehended for some time. Another night's travel on the mountains, and daylight came slowly upon us in the dense woods lying between Cow Creek and the South Umpqua. The sun's rays did not reach us through the dense and leafy mass above till nearly noon, and soon after we entered on a timbered cafion down which we bumped and thumped for four hours, making but fifteen miles. The coach alone would have been too heavy a load for the four horses, every one of which filled Isaiah's description of the natural man: their whole heads were sick and their whole hearts |