baked tenants like whortleberries as they tumble out! This is consid. ered an excellent corrective after over-indulgence in blubber. Pike, who spoke the jargon, attempted to get into conversation with some of these Indians, but they only replied with gestures. The occasion of a whale ashore was too rare and momentous for frivolous discussion.

The salmon fisheries of Oregon are yet scarcely known. Even in San Francisco, where the resources of the Pacific coast should be well understood, there seems to be but little attention given to the subject. There are two "runs" of salmon every year in all the rivers and bays of Oregon from the Chetkoe to the Umpqua inclusive. But one attempt has been made in Oregon to use the seine, which was on Rogue River. With imperfect apparatus and every disadvantage to work against, above five thousand of these fish were hauled from the river in two days, with the assistance of the Indians. These were packed with refuse salt, and in so hurried a manner that the fish were not cured, hence the statement, believed by many intelligent persons, that salmon can not be salted on the shores of the Pacific coast, owing to certain atmospheric causes. The English, however, with a better knowledge of affairs, have already sent two full cargoes from Vancouver's Island to China, for the salmon are found as far north as the Russian Possessions. These form the chief article of food for the Indians in Coos Bay as well as on the entire coast, and their method of catching them with hooks and spears is often an interesting spectacle.

I had intimated to my friend, Mr. Rogers, my desire to witness a torchlight salmon excursion, and, with his usual courtesy, he organized an expedition for my special benefit. The Indians collected at a point a mile below Empire City, and were nearly one entire day making their preparations. The canoes were first cleaned out and furnished with a barbed spear of wood tipped with iron or glass. A pile of pitch-pine knots were also placed in each, and other arrangements made, the nature of which I did not understand. Determined to see the whole performance, I embarked in a frail affair-a species of dug-out-having for my crew an old squaw, whose bleared eyes and skinny, wrinkled hideousness, illumined with the glare of the torch she had stuck in the bow of the canoe, reminded me of the gaunt features of some foul witch from regions damned. But I soon found that my female Charon was not to be despised, for she plied her paddle with dexterity of a-for aught I know-century's experience. We soon reached a little bend in the bay where the fleet was congregated, and the sport commenced.

The operation was simple enough. Each canoe contained two persons, a squaw squatting in the stern to take the fish from the spear and replenish the fire; and an Indian, who, from the bows, darted his weapon with absolute certainty at the fish. The light of the fire seemed to possess some attraction for the finny denizens of the bay; for as the glare passed along the surface of the water, they would dart upward toward it and become the sure prey of the spearsman. In a trice, the drumming of captured salmon was heard from a dozen boats, and my crew became so excited thereat that she nearly threw me out of the cockle-shell in gesticulating and screaming to her grandson, who was not displaying any

remarkable dexterity on that night. The cold was severe, my hands and feet were soon benumbed, and yet this apparently bloodless old creature, almost naked, showed no signs of suffering.

The scene was one of the most remarkable I ever witnessed, and but for the cold would have been superb. At my request the squaw paddled me alongside of a canoe, the proprietor of which lent me his spear; but though he pointed out dozens of salmon, some of them glorious fellows, three feet long, my unpracticed hand met with no success.

In an hour the novelty of the thing had passed, and I gave the signal to return. There were about five hundred fish taken in at that time.

The fleet of canoes

Another method is to use the common fish-hook. start for some favorable locality, where the bight of the land leaves the water free from the action of the current, and the surface is speedily covered with dozens of little reels, on each of which are wound about ten yards of line. There are generally about half a dozen hooks attached to the end, which are allowed to hang from ten to twelve feet below the surface, being suspended at that guage by a float. The salmon bite greedily at the bait, and swim away, unwinding the line as they go. The reel spins around with great velocity, which is the signal for the proprietor to paddle up, haul in the captive, and administer a stunning tap on the head with a small stick provided for that purpose. There are often a dozen canoes engaged at once in this fishery-all gliding swiftly about, and more than busily engaged by the rapidity of the bites. These salmon. are, beyond comparison, the most delicious in the world, even surpassing the famous ones taken in the Sacramento river in California.

The coal deposits of Coos Bay would require more space than could be devoted to them within the limits of these pages. A report, recently published by myself in San Francisco, contains the outlines of what will doubtless become hereafter widely discussed. That the importation of coal to California via Cape Horn, from Europe and the Eastern States, must eventually cease, few who are acquainted with the facts will deny. A space of country about the size of Rhode Island is a solid bed of coal, outcropping wherever a ravine or bank occurs. The veins are from six to ten feet thick. The coal has been repeatedly and satisfactorily tested, and proved to be well adapted to steamship purposes. It is in quality not unlike the Scotch cannel, but lighter, and when unmixed with foreign substances, burns to clear red ashes. But these are only a few of the boundless treasures of the unexplored regions of the Pacific, and which, as the country becomes populated, are destined to teach the inhabitants of the extreme West to rely on their own resources. California and Oregon produce nearly every article necessary to the comfort and subsistence of man, and it needs but the construction of the great avenue of population the national railroad-to bring the country to the pinnacle of greatness and wealth. Shall we live to see it built?"

AMERICAN DESERT

In the summer of 1848, Lieut. Brewerton, of the army, made a trip from California over the mountains and through the Great American Desert. The starting point was Los Angeles, on the Pacific coast, some five hundred miles south of San Francisco. At this point Brewerton was joined by the celebrated Kit Carson, who was to be the guide and leader of the party. We abridge from Brewerton's narrative his description of the country through which he passed, and the incidents of the journey:

"The Pueblo de Los Angeles has a population of several hundred souls; and boasts a church, a padre, and three or four American shops; the streets are narrow, and the houses generally not over one story high, built of adobes, the roofs flat and covered with a composition of gravel mixed with a sort of mineral pitch, which the inhabitants say they find upon the sea-shore. This mode of roofing gives a perfectly water-proof covering, but has the rather unpleasant disadvantage of melting in warm weather, and in running down, fringes the sides of the building with long pitchicles (if we may be allowed to coin a word), thus giving to the houses an exceedingly grotesque appearance; when the heat is extreme, pools of pitch are formed upon the ground. The adobe is a brick, made of clay, and baked in the sun. Walls built of this material, from the great thickness necessary to secure strength, are warmer in the winter, and cooler in the summer, and are therefore better adapted to the climate than either wood or ordinary brick. In most respects, the town differs but little from other Mexican villages.

Just as I was beginning to weary of the comparatively idle life which we were leading, a friend informed me that Carson had arrived, and would shortly join our party at the mess-room. The name of this celebrated mountaineer had become in the ears of Americans residing in California a familiar household word; and I had frequently listened to wild tales of daring feats which he had performed. The narrators being oftentimes men noted for their immense powers of endurance, I had caught, almost insensibly, a portion of their enthusiasm, and loved to dwell upon the theme. It is scarcely wonderful, then, that I should in my mind's eye a quiet little studio of mine own, where I conjure up all sorts of fancies) not only sketch but, by degrees, fill up the details of a character which I thought must resemble the guide and companion of he adventurous Frémont. My astonishment therefore may better be conceived than described, when I turn both sides of the canvas to the reader, by drawing the picture as I had dreamed it out, and then endeavoring to portray the man as he really is.

The Kit Carson of my imagination was over si feet high-a sort of modern Hercules in his build-with an enormous beard, and a voice like a roused lion, whose talk was all of

"Stirring incidents by flood and field.”

The real Kit Carson I found to be a plain, simple, unostentatious man;

rather below the medium hight, with brown, curling hair, little or no beard, and a voice as soft and gentle as a woman's. In fact, the hero of a hundred desperate encounters, whose life had been mostly spent amid wildernesses, where the white man is almost unknown, was one of Dame Nature's gentlemen-a sort of article which she gets up occasionally, but nowhere in better style than among the backwoods of America.

I will not attemp to sketch Kit's earlier life and adventures; Frémont has drawn him with a master's hand, and my inexperienced pen may no improve upon his description.

In making the foregoing remarks, I have only offered my humble testimonial to the sterling worth of a man, who I am proud to say, was my guide, companion, and friend, through some of the wildest regions ever traversed by the foot of man.

"Kit," as I shall often call him, informed me that he had made camp, at Bridge Creek, some fifteen miles distant from the Pueblo, on our road to the Great Pass, by which we purposed crossing the Californian mountains and entering into the solitudes of the Sandy Desert. This camp at Bridge Creek had been established by Carson with a view of preparing our animals (many of whom had seen hard service) for the long and tedious journey before them; and a better locality for our purposes could scarcely have been selected. Bridge Creek is a pretty little stream of clear, sweet water, fringed with trees, which afforded plenty of timber or our corral. On the plains, in its vicinity, the wild oats grew in luxriant abundance, furnishing a rich pasturage. As Kit purposed taking np his residence in camp, a variety of reasons induced me to accompany nim. For one thing, I had grown heartily tired of fleas, with which the houses in town are densely populated; and, in the second place, I wished to get an insight into the sort of gipsy-life which I must necessarily lead for some months to come. So, having concluded that an immediate commencement of my education in this respect wonld render its privations easier when the time of trial came, I provided myself with a tincup, which might hold about a quart, for no true mountaineer ever drinks less than that amount of coffee at a sitting-if he can get it. To these articles I added a common fork, a large bowie-knife, and a rifle; -and thus, having furnished my table and armory, I turned my attention to the bed-chamber portion of the establishment. Here my preparations were equally simple and unpretending; two Mexican blankets serving me at once for mattress, sheets, and pillow-cases, while my saddle gave a rude, but never-failing pillow. Imagine me, then, fully equipped, and prepared to take up my abode under the first tree, if the good of the service should require it.

Late in the afternoon Carson and myself mounted a couple of stout mules, left the Pueblo behind us, and after three hours' riding over hills and dales so rich in flowers that it seemed as if nature had contemplated the manufacture of a patch-work quilt upon a grand scale, we reached the spot which was to be our abiding place for nearly a month. Here I found the men, twenty in number, who had been hired for the expedition, all busily employed in taking care of our large caballada of mules and

horses; many of these men were noted woodsme old companions of Carson's in his explorations with Frémont; while others, again, were almost as ignorant of mountain life as myself; knowing nothing of the mysteries of a pack-saddle, and keeping at a most respectful distanco from the heels of a kicking mule.

Our daily routine of life while sojourning at Bridge Creek was cerainly primitive in its simplicity. Shortly after sunrise the camp was awakened, the animals released from their confinement in the corral, and driven to water; from thence they were conveyed to the fields of wild oats, where each mule being secured by a long réata (a kind of strong Mexican rope made by twisting thongs of hide together) to an iron picket-pin driven into the ground, was permitted to graze until sunset, when the drove were again watered and secured in the corral for the night. The habits of the Californian mule are rather peculiar. Though very cautious animals when relying solely upon their own judgment-under which circumstances they generally get along very wellthey would appear to have a consciousness of their own inferiority, which induces them to entertain a great regard for the sagacity of the horse, and particularly for that of a white mare. Now why the "gray mare" should be the "better horse" in their estimation, I can not say, but such is certainly the fact; and the wily Californians taking advantage of this amiable weakness, are in the habit of employing a steady old white mare of known gentleness and good character to act as a kind of mother and guide to each drove of unruly mules. This animal is sometimes called the "bell mare," from a large bell which they attach to her neck, to the tinklings of which, sooner or later, every mule in the caballada becomes an obedient slave. In conformity with so excellent a custom, we had destined for this service an old gray mare belonging to one of our party; and I often amused an idle hour by watching the court paid her by the mulish crowd. To be allowed to graze in her immediate vicinity, was evidently considered a favor by every long-eared lady and gentleman in the herd; and to obtain this much coveted position, many was the quarrel, and many the spiteful bite and kick given and received. But the old mare, like a philosophical beast, as she was, looked upon all their attentions with scorn and indifference; or only noticed them, when annoyed by the tumult around her, by using both teeth and heels with wonderful dexterity, and showering her blows with great impartiality among her four-legged admirers.

For ourselves, we fished, hunted, and practiced rifle-shooting (in which latter accomplishment many of the mountaineers are almost incredibly xpert); and when the evening had fairly set in, and the round bright moon peeped slyly down through the trees, we gathered round our fire in the open air, with the blue heavens and broad spreading branches for our canopy, and with these, with songs and stories not the less interesting for being real, and in many cases the personal adventures of their narrators, we whiled away the hours so pleasantly that it was often midnight before we spread our blankets, and laid down to sleep more soundly, and dream more sweetly, than many a man who reclines upon a couch of down.