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Second Series.

Beautiful Willamette.


From the Cascade's frozen gorges,

Leaping like a child at play,
Winding, widening through the valley,
Bright Willamette glides away;

Onward ever,

Lovely river,
·Softly calling to the sea;

Time that scars us,

Maims and mars us,
Leaves no track or trench on thee!


III. Spring's green witchery is weaving

In thy crystal deeps, inverted, Braid and border for thy side;

Swings a picture of the sky, Grace forever haunts thy journey,

Like those wavering hopes of Aidenn Beauty dimples on thy tide.

Dimly in our dreams that lie; Through the purple gates of morning,

Clouded often, drowned in turmoil, Now thy roseate ripples dance;

Faint and lovely, far awayGolden, then, when day departing,

Wreathing sunshine on the morrow,
On thy water trails his lance;

Breathing fragrance round today.
Waitzing, flashing,

Love could wander
Tinkling, plashing,

Here, and ponder-
Limpid, volatile and free-

Hither poetry would dream;
Always hurried

Life's old questions,
To be buried

Sad suggestions.
In the bitter, moon-mad sea.

"Whence and whither?" throng thy


On the roaring waste of ocean,

Soon thy scattered waves shall toss;
'Mid the surges' rythmic thunder

Shall thy silver tongues be lost.
Oh, thy glimmering rush of gladness

Mocks this turbid life of mine,
Racing to the wild Forever,
Down the sloping paths of time-

Onward ever,

Lovely river,
Softly calling to the sea;

Time that scars us,

Maims and mars us,
Leaves no track or trench on thee!

The Willamette.


MMORTAL in the literature of wooded hills to its confluence with the

the great West, characterized by an mighty giant of western waters, a river

unfading beauty that grows upon that calls forth one's love and admiration one with time; a clear, sparkling stream —such is the Willamette. No state, no that wends its tortuous way through country could be the proud possessor of a broad and


valley and a more beautiful river. There are others

grander, more magnificent, but none that mertime a ride on the river in a launch, has to a greater degree that quiet beauty sail or row-boat is one of the most fascithat calls forth the sweetest notes from nating of pleasures. There are islands the poet's muse.

above the city where picnic parties gathWhen the wanderer views the river for er for an afternoon, returning lazily with the first time, coming from the sun-bak the current when the after-glow of the ed regions of the South or the dry and setting sun has cast its glamor over the dusty alkaline plains of the East, the distant city. Here again one hears the impression is one that is never to be tinkle of music across the waters, and forgotten. If he come by boat from Cal- the occasional laugh of some light-heartifornia the latter part of May, when the ed damsel whose sun has dried the fields and made the "Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake

again, earth one continuous yellow blare, it

And all went merry as a marriage bell." seems that he is entering a fairy land,

To such no pen could portray the The towering hills on the one side are

beauty of the scene, or adequately excovered with green fir that wasts a breath

press the fondness which the river inof spring to the lungs, the bank is car

spires for itself in their hearts. The dispeted with green and the blue sky is overhead. On the other, five majestic light, soon

tant city, now dimly outlined in the twi

sparkles with countless mountains, clad with eternal snow, greet lights, the boats drift on and on, the his expectant gaze. Slightly to the left laughter and music cease, and the world is Mt. St. Helens, with its symmetrical is left to silence. lines that first command attention. Then

Ascending the river from Portland we Mts. Adams, Jefferson and a tip of Rai

are imediately struck with the quiet and nier greet the eye, only to be quickly restful beauty of the landscape and the passed by, for there stands old Hood, placid nature of the river which called supreme o'er all else, with his ruged sides

forth the genius of Sam Simpson when that have endeared themselves to every he wrote the masterpiece which prefaces lover of nature. This is the doorway to this sketch. The beauty that is Willamthe Willamette.

ette's is scarcely one that can be put into Twelve miles from the mouth is Port words other than those used by the poet. land, the largest city in the Northwest, It is a beauty that does not lend itself to and the shipping point of vast quantities language or one that can adequately be of wheat, flour and manufactured pro- depicted by the brush. It must be felt. ducts to all parts of the world. Here the Each one sees in its shimmering tide a river is spanned by four modern bridges. charm which he cherishes as his own In June, through melting snows, the riv and which no one else may discover. Its er reaches such a height that it overflows "silver tongues” sing a different song to upon some of the streets, and at such

every ear that listens, and in its "crystal times Portland is a veritable Venice. deeps” lingers a picture which no other Boats of every character are brought eves may behold. It is a river for the into requisition, and the time is made a poet, for the artist, for the philosopher, holiday. In the evening the scene is for summer days and idleness, when one brilliant and romantic. Chinese lanterns can loll upon its banks and dream quiet swing from stem to stern of nearly every day dreams, and paint and read and write

There is the twinkling music of and dream. the mandolin and guitar, and the sounds But the Willamette is not altogether of merry laughter as the boats glide by. a placid stream. Here is one of its banks

It is not alone on such occasions as called “Elk Rock," several hundred feet these, however, that the opportunities for high and perfectly perpendicular, where pleasure and recreation which the Wil the water swirls in and out, and to lamette affords are taken advantage of which place, so the story goes, thie Inby the people of Portland. The Portland dians used to drive the elk in bands, rowing clubs hold an annual regatta with compelling them to jump from the high the clubs of the Northwest, the river bank into the river, where they would be furnishing an ideal course. In the sum at the Indians' mercy.

Several miles

further up are the Willamette Falls, agination with that inspiration which which, with the exception of Niagara, beauty in nature alone can give. furnish the largest horsepower of any

Onward ever, ialls in America.

Lovely river, Far up the valley there is a place where

Softly calling to the sea ; the river, after a gay battle with the, ob

Time that mars uis,

Maims and scars us, structing boulders, loiters to rest. Stand-. ing upon the bridge which leaps from

Leaves no track or trench on thee! bank to bank in a single span, one sees * Note 1. It is a matter of regret that the the stream like a lake, lying without a orthography of this word should have ripple, environed by wood and hill. To changed its nationality. The French spelling the north it breaks into singing shallows

--Willamette-may be traced to the early in

fluence of Catholic missions and those retired on the gleaming gravel bars, and there

Hudson Bay voyageurs who settled along the a little village is situated. White towns lowel levels of the stream. But in spite of dot the green banks here and there, and the doubled consonant, the name retains its add to, rather than detract from, the

liquid Indian pronunciation, to the frequent

confusion of strangers, unaccustomed to the beauty. So, on and up for 125 miles

sublime indifference with which Oregonians through the valley, which the Indians

regard arbitrary rules. The accent, therecalled “Wilamet''l or “the place of pleas- fore, is upon the Penult, with a short a.

* Note 2. antness," and from which the river takes

Professor H. S. Lyman, in his

“Indian Arabian Nights,' which recently its name, to the source in the Cascade

appeared in The Pacific Monthly, says that mountains, there is one unending vista the Indians of the Northwest did not give a that delights the senses and fills the im name to running water, but only to the coun

try through which it passed.

The River's Story. Beside the flowing river I stood at close of “But some, alas! have drifted and found my day;

bed their grave; Beyond in silent beauty the wide-spread city The Red men, driven backward, whom once lay.

they tried to save, The hills rose up in grandeur, enrobed in Are fading from the forest as disappears the living green,

foam, And watched like guards the city, their fair And what was then the Indian's is now the and proud young queen.

White man's home. As conscious of their beauty the waves “No more upon my bosom will float his rude seemed to rejoice,

canoe, And in the dancing waters I heard a rippling Instead the mighty steamship in giant voice:

strength plows through. “Through many ages, measured by man's Upon my banks in numbers the towns and short scale of time,

cities rise, Unchanged my waves made music and song And church spies, like the tree tops, point in woodland rhyme.

heavenward to the skies.

"No sound disturbed the stillness except the

wild bird's call, The beasts that roamed the forest, the pine

cone's gentle fall; Or, sometimes lightly floating, the Indian's

rude canoe, Which broke the wonted quiet upon the

waters blue.

"In all my beauteous valley fair Nature's

loveliest spot, Where smiling in my mirror the rarest view

is caught, Will see, uprising stately, the halls of learn

ing stand, And all the beauty 'round them will aid their

purpose grand.

came a

"At last, in swifter vessels there

stranger race, Unlike the dark-browed Indian, and strong,

though pale of face, They brought the blessed tidings, a Savior

born for all, And told the wondering Red men the Gos

pel's joyous call.

“Unchanged, though all change round me,

my laughing waters glide To join in lasting union the great Columbia's

tide; I grieve not for the stillness of silent ages

past, But smile to see the shadows the happy future casts.”

E. F.



was in Iowa that he scored his first success and won recognition as an instructor of unusual merit and ability. In the role of educator, Professor Durrette served the public as principal and County Superintendent of Schools, both ably and well, and became a strong factor in the institute work of that state, a letcurer whose lectures were always acceptable and always in demand.

Since coming to Oregon he has taught continuously, and has been at the head of schools in Woodstock, West Oregon City and Mt. Tabor, and in all these places he stands high in the estimation of his patrons and fellow citizens, both as a man and as a teacher.

His work in the institutes has made him well and favorably known throughout the state. Where he goes once in the capacity of lecturer he is invariably invited to return.

Tall, with clear, modelled Professor C. W. Durrette.

features, dark eyes and hair just touched

touched with gray, a pleas

antly-modulated speaking voice, and ROFESSOR C. W. DURRETTE. a dignified, deliberate manner—this the subject of this brief sketch, is Conrad W. Durrette,

one is one of the leading educators of meets him every day. But underneath Oregon. During a residence of nearly five that quiet exterior there is concealed an years in this state he has been tireless in inexhaustible store of force and activity. his efforts to advance the standard of His capacity for work is something education in the common schools, and to phenomenal, and because every moment assist, in all ways, in building up and and every movement is intelligently ocperfecting a system of public instruc cupied and directed, he accomplishes tion second to none in the Union. more in a day than many would, with

Professor Durrette was born in Illinois the same degree of activity, accomplish and received the major part of his edu in a week. There is no noisy waste of cation in that commonwealth, later tak time and energy. Though continuously ing a special course at Tabor College engaged in teaching since coming to in Iowa. It was in Illinois that he be this state he has found time to study law, gan his career as a teacher, though it and, in 1897, took his degree in the Uni



versity of Oregon. While principal of the Woodstock school he was for a time editor of the periodical known as the Oregon Teacher's Monthly, working late and early, and leaving no smallest school room duty undone. He made the Oregon school magazine a credit to the state during his brief experience as its editorial head, but other duties seemed

to him more important and he severed his connection with the periodical and gave all his time to school work.

As a fitting recognition of Professor Durrette's record and splendid abilities the Democratic party has made him its nominee for Superintendent of Multnomah county, Oregon, the leading county in the state.


A Sequel to "The Voice of the Silence."


Chapter V. HROUGH all the bitter pain and ready and her voice as sweet as ever

humiliation that had been her's when he was near. Perhaps, indeed, the

since that dark hour two months knowledge of his weakness served to ago, when she was surprised by the un deepen her tenderness for him. She may expected, Elise was absolutely free from have pitied him for a moral blemish for any touch of resentment toward her hus which her love forbade her to condemn band. Neither, indeed, had she cher him. She hated the sin, but forgave the ished that feeling towards the woman. sinner. Her pure woman's nature rose Though overcome with shame and sor in revolt at the mere knowledge of an row, and appalled by the horror of ap evil like this, and she was filled with parently inevitable consequences, she yet hopelessness and horror at sight of the maintained an outward calm, and her consequences that were, apparently, inlove was strong and true enough to pre- evitable, but in the perfectness of her decerve and protect her froin the poison of votion she resolved that no shadow distrust.

from the past should darken the path of It was possible, it seemed, that a man him who wrought the wrong. might sin and go on his way unscathed, “He shall never know, he shall never but some one must suffer for every vio know." The resolution repeated itself lation of the moral law. And now she continually. And somehow the fact of was reaping in agony of soul the result her own bitter pain seemed to lessen his of his early transgression—she and the guilt. A sort of vicarious atonement. helpless creature whom he had wronged What ghastly tragedies are hidden so thoughtlessly—that her very name beneath the grime and general wretchedand existence had perhaps slipped his ness of places like Reese Alley, tragedies memory! She was forced to face the that have their beginning and cause in fact that at his door must be laid the the bright upper world of wealth and blame for this girl's swift descent from fashion. Elise shuddered when she conthe sunlit path of virtue to the devious sidered that this was but one of countways to the underworld and a subse less similar cases. But she was thankful quent career too revolting to be thought for the tide of retributive justice that upon, but instinctively as a loving wo stranded this particular wreck upon her man will, she shut her eyes. She re

own coast. Perhaps, because of her fused to contemplate the mutilated fea early training or lack of it, duty was to tures and clay feet of her idol. But she her but a word without meaning. Her suffered none the less keenly. Her actions were not based upon anything cheek paled and there was a haunting that she had construed as duty. She did shadow in her eyes, but her smile was as a thing because it appealed to her, be

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