Tracks Of A Rolling Stone By Henry J. Coke




























































































































 -   On one of these we landed to 
rest our Indians and feed.  Towards evening we again put 
ashore, at an - Page 122
Tracks Of A Rolling Stone By Henry J. Coke - Page 122 of 208 - First - Home

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On One Of These We Landed To Rest Our Indians And Feed.

Towards evening we again put ashore, at an Indian village, where we camped for the night.

The scenery here is magnificent. It reminded me a little of the Danube below Linz, or of the finest parts of the Elbe in Saxon Switzerland. But this is to compare the full-length portrait with the miniature. It is the grandeur of the scale of the best of the American scenery that so strikes the European. Variety, however, has its charms; and before one has travelled fifteen hundred miles on the same river - as one may easily do in America - one begins to sigh for the Rhine, or even for a trip from London to Greenwich, with a white-bait dinner at the end of it.

The day after, we descended the Cascades. They are the beginning of an immense fall in the level, and form a succession of rapids nearly two miles long. The excitement of this passage is rather too great for pleasure. It is like being run away with by a 'motor' down a steep hill. The bow of the canoe is often several feet below the stern, as if about to take a 'header.' The water, in glassy ridges and dark furrows, rushes headlong, and dashes itself madly against the reefs which crop up everywhere. There is no time, one thinks, to choose a course, even if steerage, which seems absurd, were possible. One is hurled along at railway speed. The upreared rock, that a moment ago seemed a hundred yards off, is now under the very bow of the canoe. One clenches one's teeth, holds one's breath, one's hour is surely come. But no - a shout from the Indians, a magic stroke of the paddle in the bow, another in the stern, and the dreaded crag is far above out heads, far, far behind; and, for the moment, we are gliding on - undrowned.

At the lower end of the rapids (our Indians refusing to go further), we had to debark. A settler here was putting up a zinc house for a store. Two others, with an officer of the Mounted Rifles - the regiment we had left at the Dalles - were staying with him. They welcomed our arrival, and insisted on our drinking half a dozen of poisonous stuff they called champagne. There were no chairs or table in the 'house,' nor as yet any floor; and only the beginning of a roof. We sat on the ground, so that I was able surreptitiously to make libations with my share, to the earth.

According to my journal: 'In a short time the party began to be a noisy one. Healths were drunk, toasts proposed, compliments to our respective nationalities paid in the most flattering terms. The Anglo-Saxon race were destined to conquer the globe. The English were the greatest nation under the sun - that is to say, they had been. America, of course, would take the lead in time to come.

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