ens wherever they were not
absolutely precipitous, the Hudson would much more closely resemble the
Columbia.

I was reminded of another Eastern river, which I had never heard
mentioned, in the same company. As we ascended toward the cataract, the
Columbia water assumed a green tint as deep and positive as that of the
Niagara between the Falls and Lake Ontario. Save that its surface was
not so perturbed with eddies and marbled with foam, it resembled the
Niagara perfectly.

We boarded the Hunt in a dense fog, and went immediately to breakfast.
With our last cup of coffee the fog cleared away and showed us a sunny
vista up the river, bordered by the columnar and mural trap formations
above mentioned, with an occasional bold promontory jutting out beyond
the general face of the precipice, its shaggy fell of pines and firs all
aflood with sunshine to the very crown. The finest of these promontories
was called Cape Horn, the river bending around it to the northeast. The
channel kept mid-stream with considerable uniformity,--but now and then,
as in the highland region of the Hudson, made a _detour_ to avoid some
bare, rocky island. Several of these islands were quite columnar,--being
evidently the emerged capitals of basaltic prisms, like the other
uplifts on the banks. A fine instance of this formation was the stately
and perpendicular "Rooster Rock" on the Oregon side, but not far from
Cape Horn. Still another was called "Lone Rock," and rose from the
middle of the river. These came upon our view within the first hour
after breakfast, in company with a slender, but graceful stream, which
fell into the river over a sheer wall of basalt seven hundred feet in
height. This little cascade reminded us of Po-ho-no, or The Bridal Veil,
near the lower entrance of the Great Yo-Semite.

As the steamer rounded a point into each new stretch of silent, green,
and sunny river, we sent a flock of geese or ducks hurrying cloudward or
shoreward. Here, too, for the first time in a state of absolute Nature,
I saw that royal bird, the swan, escorting his mate and cygnets on an
airing or a luncheon-tour. It was a beautiful sight, though I must
confess that his Majesty and all the royal family are improved by
civilization. One of the great benefits of civilization is, that it
restricts its subjects to doing what they can do best. Park-swans seldom
fly,--and flying is something that swans should never attempt, unless
they wish to be taken for g