these buildings of fir lumber like kindling wood, burning with the violence of tinder. Although promptly on the ground, the firemen were unable to check the devastation, and under a breeze from the hills the conflagration soon spread to include six blocks, reaching the river and between Taylor street to Main and Second streets. From this start the fire spread north and south between Second street and the river until it had reached Yamhill street and destroyed Kelloggs hotel on the river front and threatened the St. Charles hotel, then the grandest building in the city, and swept everything clean as far south as Jefferson street and the public levee, where the Salem Electric and Narrow Gauge railroads now terminate. The fire wiped out everything on twenty-two city blocks; and would have taken much more of the city had not the firemen got in on steamboats from Vancouver and Oregon City, and by special train from Salem to relieve the exhausted Portland men. The Salem firemen promptly responded to a telegraph call and got their engine and men to the train and rushed to Portland without a stop—a 52 mile run in 57 minutes. The contest with the devouring flames lasted the entire day; the women turning out and serving coffee and sandwiches to the firemen, while they continued fighting the flames. The loss was about two and a quarter million dollars; and was in the end stopped mostly by shade trees.
The great disaster to the city was of course telegraphed far and wide and not only offers of aid but checks for money was sent in from San Francisco and many eastern cities. Henry Failing was made chairman of the relief committee that was immediately organized; and promptly telegraphed the thanks of Portland for the generous offer of aid, but kindly declined them all. For a time this decision aroused bitter opposition and called out severe criticism. Mr. Failing met this storm with the dignity and firmness that characterized his whole life, saying: that it was not meet, even in sore distress, for a rich city, like Portland to accept charity; and that the manly thing, and the right and proper thing to do was for the rich men to put their hands deep down into their purses and discharge this duty to the honor and credit of the city; and to make his acts tally with his brave words thereupon subscribed ten thousand dollars himself. That ended all discussion, silenced all criticism, healed all the bruises, and set everybody to work, to rebuild the city with funds to purchase tools and clothing for workingmen rendered houseless, and the loss was soon forgotten and the blackened ruins soon again covered with better buildings than those swept away by the fire.
THE SALMON INDUSTRY.
The value of the salmon in the Columbia river had long been understood. The early fur traders had caught a few salmon and carried them away in salt with their furs. The Hudson's Bay Company had every year sent some salted and dried salmon home to London with their returning ships. And both Winship and Wyeth had come to the Columbia river prepared to carry away salmon, salted dried or kippered. But none of them had ever made a success of such efforts. Their failures were not owing to any scarcity of fish, but mostly because they had to depend on Indians to catch the fish. And Indians could catch but one fish at a time, either by spearing him, or hooking him with a line. This was too slow for commercial profit, and the Indian knew nothing about the use of nets or pounds. It remained for the white men to discover a way to utilize the vast schools of salmon which annually swept into the mouth of the great river. Salted salmon in kits and barrels had been on the market for years, but it was poor food, and worth a man's life to be compelled to depend on the stuff.
While temporarily stopping at the old American Exchange hotel, at the foot of Washington street, in 1864, General Coffin said to this writer one evening, "Come around to the wharf and I'll show you some fish." I went and saw a sight; and admitted I had never seen any fish before. A husky steamboat roustabout was pitching salmon off a little steamboat that had just got in from
