the light-haired and freckle-faced natives of some portions of it farther north, discovered by the earliest traders.
Our hour of toil, at length, brings us to a pretty piece of level, grassy land away from the beach, where are lofty trees, and lower thickets of wild roses, white spiræa, woodbine, and mock-orange. Here, in this charming solitude, is an Indian lodge, the residence of the native Clatsop; and we have a strong desire to see its interior. Exteriorly, the Clatsop residence can not be praised for its beauty, being made of cedar planks, set upright and fastened to a square or oblong frame of poles, and roofed with cedar bark. Outside are numberless dogs, and two pretty girls, of ten and twelve years of age, with glorious great, black, smiling eyes.
Peeping inside, we see three squaws of various ages, braiding baskets and tending a baby of tender age, with two "warriors" sitting on their haunches and doing nothing; and salmon everywhere—on the fire, on the walls, overhead, dripping grease and smelling villainously, are salmon—nothing but salmon. Our guide holds a conversation with the mother of the little stranger, in jargon, which he informs us relates to the fair complexion of the tillicum. One of the warriors, presumed to be its papa, laughs, and declares it is all as it should be. Such are the benefits of civilization to the savage!
A little further on, we fall in with a different sort of savage—an Irishman, on a little patch of ground which he cultivates after a fashion of his own, at the same time doing his housekeeping in preference to being "bothered with a woman." He is cooking his afternoon meal, which consists of a soup made from
