character which the mouth of the Columbia gained, by the unfortunate accident which happened to Lieutenant Wilkes, then Commander of the United States Exploring Squadron, in the Pacific, has since affected, materially, and deeply, the prosperity of that infant Colony: and not the Colony alone, but also the interests of the numerous Whalers, which are, in every direction, in every latitude and longitude, constantly traversing the broad bosom of this Ocean of Oceans; since it has certainly been the great cause, to discourage an intercourse, which would otherwise have been commenced, and carried on, to the great advantage of both. This character, which has been and still is so extremely detrimental, is, in a great degree, unmerited and incorrect. The coast South, from Cape Look Out, (twenty miles South of the mouth of the Columbia,) to the Umqua, is generally rugged and mountainous. There are some small Valleys, on the intermediate streams; but none of sufficient extent to demand attention. At Cape Look Out, which is a lofty and frowning rock, extending into the sea, there are extensive sands, and a vast rock rising out of the water, called Kilamoox Head; upon which, when the wind is high from the West, the Ocean waves dash and break in such fury, that the roaring may be distinctly heard in the Willammette Valley. The Indians, West of the Cascade Mountains, are divided into numerous small bands, and many of them without any acknowledged head. There were once, on the waters of the Columbia, the Willammette, and along the shores of the Ocean, powerful tribes; but pestilence and disease, since the coming of the white man, have swept them rapidly away; until but a few, poor, wretched, degraded beings, beyond the reach of charity, remain. Once Chenamus, a proud, intelligent, and influential Chief, of the Chenooks, held sway over all the tribes, between the shores of the Pacific and the Cascades, and between the Umqua and Puget's Sound; and extended his influence beyond the Mountains. But, after his death, his place was never filled: and now, the bones of his people, are scattered upon the rocks and hills, and their dwelling places, are their graves. The bones of hundreds, perhaps thousands, lay heaped up promiscuously, together. And every isolated rock that rises out of the Columbia, is covered with the Canoes of the dead. They are nearly all gone, and disease is still sweeping the miserable remnant away; so that, in a few more years, there will not be a single red man west of the Cascades, on the waters of the Columbia.
