fely into Portland.

We steamed from Dalles City about three o'clock on an afternoon so windy
as to make the Columbia very rough. When we arrived at the head of the
Cascades we found the shore lined with people to watch our passage through
the rapids. As we swept into the foaming and roaring waters the engine was
slowed a little, and for a few minutes the pilots had their hands full;
for the fierce currents, sweeping her now to one side and then to the
other, made the steering extraordinarily difficult. At one point there
seemed a probability that we should be swept on to the rocks; and it was
very curious to stand, as General Sprague and I, the only passengers, did,
in front of the pilot-house, and watch the boat's head swing against the
helm and toward the rocks, until at last, after half a minute of suspense,
she began slowly to swing back, obedient to her pilot's wish.

We made six miles in eleven minutes, which is at the rate of more than
thirty miles per hour, a better rate of speed than steamboats commonly
attain. Of course it is impossible to drive a vessel up the Cascades, and
a steamboat which has once passed these rapids remains forever below.

At the upper end of the Cascades a boat awaits you, which carries you
through yet more picturesque scenery to Dalles City, where you spend the
night. This is a small place, remarkable to the traveler chiefly for the
geological collection which every traveler ought to see, belonging to
the Rev. Mr. Condon, a very intelligent and enthusiastic geologist,
the Presbyterian minister of the place. You have also at Dalles City a
magnificent view of Mount Hood, and Mr. Condon will tell you that he has
seen this old crater emit smoke since he has lived here.

There is no doubt that both Mount Hood and Mount St. Helens have still
internal fires, though both their craters are now filled up with ashes.
There is reason to believe that at its last period of activity Mount Hood
emitted only ashes; for there are still found traces of volcanic ashes,
attributable, I am told, to this mountain, as far as one hundred miles
from its summit. Of Mount St. Helens it is probable that its slumbering
fires are not very deeply buried. A few years ago two adventurous citizens
of Washington Territory were obliged, by a sudden fog and cold storm, to
spend a night near its summit, and seeking for some cave among the lava
where to shelter themselves from the storm, found a fissure from which
came so