A Ride Through Oregon [pp. 303-310]

84 RIDE THROUGH OREGON.
that run out into the river. The scenery
here is all natural-wild, but peaceful,
splendid, and impressive! The stillness
is marked and imposing. Even the petrels and the sea-doves that blow about
in flocks are still as ghosts. When you
look above the fleets of snowy clouds
that come silently in from the stormy
ocean, to the cliffs and firs across the
river —the ships, and clouds, and birds,
and all things seeming to drift in dreamy
silence-it is passing grand, and, after
all, you are thankful for Oregon, the
great cloud-land, her matchless forests,
and her mountains.
Although this little town of the Astors
is twelve miles from the open sea, the
ocean steamers touch land no more in
Oregon, after dasting loose from this.
When we had descended to dinner, and
were seated at the table-which, by the
way, was about the best I had seen since
leaving San Francisco - I saw what I
took to be the blonde companion of the
black man I had encountered in the
coach when crossing the Siskiyou Mountains. She seemed supremely happy now,
and leaned warmly toward a brownwhiskered man, in a miner's overshirt,
with six-shooter in his belt, who sat, all
attention, at her side. He bombarded
her with all manner of dishes and delicacies as they talked in a low, cooing
tone, and seemed oblivious to every
thing save each other, and their hash!
Finally, she raised her right-hand in a
sort of affectionate gesture to the brownbearded man at her side, and then I knew
that I was not mistaken.
".Just married," said the Captain,
nudging at me with his left elbow, as he
winked at the happy pair and looked
straight down in his plate.
"Just married! just divorced, I should
say!" chipped in a little, old maid, in
black, who sat up close to the Captain's
right; and she said it in a bitter, spiteful
way, too, as if she was grating her teeth
and trying to stick pins into somebody's
back. A queer, little, sour, dried-up apple was she, whom I took to be a disappointed and dyspeptic strong- minded
importation from the East; yet one who
knew every body and every thing, and
had a ready opinion for all occasions
and on all affairs. She wore glasses,
and, I should say, had drank strong Bohea tea till she was as tough and tawny
as a Chinaman.
"They are just divorced-that is, a
portion of them-the female portion;"
and here the wise and ancient virgin settled the glasses on her nose, and looked
as though she believed in herself thoroughly, and felt that she had said a really clever thing.
"Very true," answered the Captain,
gently; "divorced yesterday, married
to-day, and now off to California for
their honey-moon. What adds to the interest of the situation, her former husband- a short, black man, in black - is
with us, a passenger in the steerage."
"Is it possible!"
"'Possible!' All things in that line
are possible in Oregon."
"Softly,.there," chimted in an old Oregonian, who was jammed up against the
old maid's right elbow. "Oregon is not
responsible for all the vagabonds that
cross her lines. These people, I happen to know, are from down the coastCalifornia- your own State, Captain.
This lady down at the other end of the
avenue, started first to Chicago to get
divorced, but when that matrimonial
Eden went up the flume, she switched
off and came to Oregon, as the next
best place in the Union for her purpose."
This man was a firm believer in his
new State; and, as we arose from the
table, sauntered out on deck, and stood
in the clouds that came driving in from
the sea, he declared that he would not
allow it to be traduced, even in such a
trifling matter as divorces!
Here we are at the bar. The ship
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