oseburg, is
set in a deep rim of frowning rocks, shadowing the brown depths
where speckled trout disport themselves in ice-cold waters
which in a mile or two plunge headlong over a precipice two
hundred and fifty feet in height between pillars of basalt.
South of Fish Lake about three miles is Mount Volcano, with its western half blown off, leaving a sheer precipice six hundred and fifiy feet, descending into a basin semicircular in shape, containing a forest of fir-trees, three charming lakes of small size, and several green marshes, between which yawn fissures opened ages ago when this basin was a fiery crater. Many such scenes have been discovered, and many yet await discovery among these half-explored mountains. Water-falls abound, and a very pretty one, appropriately named Silver Vail, occurs on a tributary of the Klamath Kiver.
Some years ago—it was just after the Modoc war—I crossed the Cascades between Ashland and Linkville with a party, of whom the “Sage of Yoncalla” was one. It was an interesting trip from every point of view. We had an ambulance, a baggage-wagon, and horses, and walked or rode as it pleased us to do, taking three days for the passage. The first night we encamped in the valley of Jenny Creek, from which we took our supper of fish, and, not knowing any better, I left my shoes out in the dew, of the effect of which I became unpleasantly aware next morning; but I had a good sleep, quite undisturbed by grizzlies, of which there were not a few in the mountains. Next day our hunters killed a deer, and while we waited for it to be dressed, being in advance of the hunters, a huge brown bear trotted leisurely across the track in front of us; but the guns were behind, and we quietly watched his departure, thinking it was an escape on both sides. That night we encamped on the summit, and toasted venison on sticks around a blazing log- fire. We told stories, sang songs, and slept well afterwards. There was no dew to wet my shoes this night; but I was awakened about three o’clock in the morning by the voice of the Sage, who^ like those of old, called upon me to observe the brightness of the morning star. And it was worth the misery of being wakened at such an hour to behold the great golden clusters sparkling above us,—two or three times as large as when seen through the murky air of the lowlands.
