eight feet, then falling to twelve, fifteen and seventeen feet, and
suddenly dropping to 100 feet of water and over. In the spring months
it will rise from twenty-five to forty feet, leaving driftwood high up
among the trees on the banks. The tide ebbs and flows at Portland from
eighteen inches to three feet, according to season, and this tidal
influence is felt, in high water, as far up as the Cascades. It is
fifty miles of glorious beauty from "The Dalles" to the Cascades. Here
we leave the steamer and take a narrow-gauge railway for six miles
around the magnificent rapids. At the foot of the Cascades we board a
twin boat, fitted up with equal taste and comfort.

THE MIDDLE COLUMBIA.

Swinging once more down stream we pass hundreds of charming spots, sixty
miles of changeful beauty all the way to Portland; Multnomah Falls, a
filmy veil of water falling 720 feet into a basin on the hillside and
then 130 feet to the river; past the rocky walls of Cape Horn, towering
up a thousand feet; past that curious freak of nature, Rooster Rock, and
the palisades; past Fort Vancouver, where Grant and Sheridan were once
stationed, and just at sunset leaving the Columbia, which by this time
has broadened into noble dimensions, we ascend the Willamette twelve
miles to Portland. And the memory of that day's journey down the lordly
river will remain a gracious possession for years to come.

THE LEGEND OF THE CASCADES.

There is a quaint Indian legend concerning the Cascades to the effect
that away back in the forgotten times there was a natural bridge across
the river--the water flowing under one arch. The Great Spirit had made
this bridge very beautiful for his red children; it was firm, solid