came over as usual, among them Tototeescosettle. Alas! for poor human nature, he was detected stealing the boatswain's jacket. Soon after he had gone, Attoo, the Hawaiian lad, informed the captain of a deep-laid plot to capture the ship. The natives, he said, had promised to make him a great chief if he would wet the ship's fire-arms and give them a lot of musket balls. They were planning to come through the woods and board the ship from the high bank near by, and kill every man on board except Attoo. Gray's excitement can be easily imagined. All his heavy guns were on shore, but he ordered the swivels loaded at once, and the ship to be removed away from the bank. Haswell put the fort in a good state of defence, reloaded all the cannon and had the small arms put in order. The ship's people were ordered aboard. At dead of night the war-whoop was heard in the forest. The savages had stealthily assembled by hundreds, but finding their plan frustrated, they reluctantly went away. On the 23d of February, the sloop was launched and taken alongside the Columbia. She was named the Adventure, and reckoned at 44 tons; upon receiving her cargo and stores, she was sent northward on a cruise under Haswell.

She was the second vessel ever built on the coast and proved to be a good seaboat and could even outsail the Columbia.

Gray soon after took his ship on a cruise which was destined to be the most important of all-one that will be remembered as long as the United States exist. On the 29th of April, 1792, he fell in with Vancouver who had been sent out from England with three vessels of the Royal Navy as commissioner to execute the provisions of the Nootka Treaty, and to explore the coast. Vancouver said he had made no discoveries as yet, and inquired if Gray had made any. The Yankee captain replied that he had; that in latitude 46° 10' he had recently been off the mouth of a river which for nine days he tried to enter, but the outset was so strong as to prevent. He was going to try it again, however. Vancouver said this must have been the opening passed by him two days before,

which he thought might be "a small river," inaccessible on account of the breakers extending across it, the land behind not indicating it to be of any great extent. "Not considering this opening worthy of more attention," wrote Vancouver in his journal, "I continued our pursuit to the northwest." What a turn in the tide of events was that! Had the British navigator really seen the river, it would certainly have had another name and another history.

Gray continued his "pursuit" to the southeast, whither the star of his destiny was directing him. On the 7th of May, he saw an entrance in latitude 46° 58' "which had a very good appearance of a harbor," and observing from the masthead a passage between the sand bars he bore away and ran in. This he called Bulfinch Harbor, though it was very soon after called, as a deserved compliment to him, Gray's Harbor — the name which it still bears.

Here he was attacked by the natives, and obliged in self-defence to fire upon them with serious results. Davidson's drawing gives a weird view of the

scene.

On the evening of May 10th, Gray resumed his course to the south, and at daybreak, on the 11th, he saw "the entrance of his desired port" a long way off. As he drew near about eight o'clock he bore away with all sails set and ran in between the breakers. To his great delight he found himself in a large river of fresh water, up which he steered ten miles. There were Indian villages at intervals along the banks, and many canoes came out to inspect the strange visitor.

The ship came to anchor at one o'clock in ten fathoms of water, half a mile from the northern shore, and two miles and a half from the southern, the river being three or four miles wide all the way along. Here they remained three days busily trading and taking in water.

On the 14th, he stood up the river some fifteen miles farther, "and doubted not it was navigable upwards of a hundred." He found the channel on that side, however, so very narrow and crooked that the ship grounded on the sandy bottom, but they backed off without

ment at Astoria in 1811 to say nothing of our diplomatic acquisition of the old Spanish rights then we may safely say that the title of the United States to the Columbia River and its tributaries becomes incontestible. Such was the outcome of the "Oregon Question" in 1846.

On leaving the river, May 20, the Columbia sailed up to Naspatee where she was obliged to use her guns to check a hostile demonstration of the savages. And soon after, in going up Pintard's Sound, she was again formidably attacked by war canoes, and obliged to open fire upon them with serious results.

In a cruise soon after, the ship struck on a rock and was so badly injured that she returned to Naspatee and underwent some repairs and then sailed for Nootka, and on July 23 reported her condition to the governor, Don Quadra, who generously offered every assistance, allowed them his storehouses for their cargo, gave up the second-best house in the settlement for the use of Captain Gray and his clerk, and insisted upon having their company at his own sumptuous table at every meal. Such politeness was, of course, very agreeable to the weary voyagers, and was held in such grateful remembrance in subsequent years, that Captain Gray named his first-born child, Robert Don Quadra Gray, for the governor as well as himself. It was during this visit that Gray and Ingraham wrote their joint letter to the governor, which was often quoted in the course of the Anglo-Spanish negotiations. In September, Gray sold the little sloop Adventure to Quadra for seventy-five sea-otter skins of the best quality, and transferred her officers and crew to the Columbia.

As he sailed away, he saluted the Spanish flag with thirteen guns, and shaped his course for China. As the season was late and the winds unfavorable, he abandoned the project of visiting Japan, which the owners had recommended. Great was the joy of the crew when they found themselves homeward bound. They had an easy run to the Sandwich Islands where they took in a supply of provisions and fruits, sailing again November 3, and reaching Macao Roads December 7, in a somewhat leaky condi

tion. The skins were sent up to Canton and the ship was repaired near Whampoa, and duly freighted with tea, sugar, chinaware, and curios.

On the 3d of February, the Columbia set sail for Boston. While at anchor, near Bocca Tigris, her cable was cut by the Chinese, and she drifted slowly ashore, almost unobserved by the officer of the watch. This proved to be the last of her tribulations, as it was also one of the least. In the Straits of Sunda they met a British fleet, escorting Lord. Macartney, the Ambassador, to Pekin, for whom Captain Gray took despatches as far as St. Helena.

At last, after all her wanderings, the good ship reached Boston, July 29, 1793, and received another hearty welcome. Although the expectations of the owners were not realized, one of them wrote "she has made a saving voyage and some profit." But in the popular mind the discovery of the great river was sufficient "profit" for any vessel, and this alone will immortalize the owners as well as the ship and her captain, far more, indeed, than furs or teas or gold could have done.

It remains only to add that in a few years the ship was worn out and taken to

sandalwood, he was accidentally killed at the Hawaiian Islands, and the Lady Washington was soon after lost in the Straits of Malacca. His Nootka lands never brought anything to the captain or his descendants, or to the owners of the ship. In fact, the title was never confirmed. Gray commanded several vessels after this, but died, in 1806, at Charleston, S. C. Ingraham became an officer in our navy, but went down with the ill-fated brig Pickering in 1800. The same year Davidson was lost on the

Their names, however, will always be associated with the ship they served so well; and as long as the broad "river of the West" flows on in its course, so long will the Columbia be gratefully remembered by the people of America. This is the year of Oregon's first Centennial, and the enthusiasm it has awakened clearly shows that the highest honor on that coast will hereafter be given to the heroic discoverers who prepared the way for the pioneers and settlers, and thus added a fine group of States to our federal Union.

HE millionnaire walked home from the dinnerparty. In pleasant weather he walked; when it rained he took a cab. His coachman was a person who required consideration. He disliked to keep the horses - and himself - out nights, and his master respected his feelings.

Burton opened his front door with a latch key the servants never waited up for him - and entered his house with an awakened interest. He threw his overcoat upon a settle and looked about the hall. It was dark and imposing. The owner looked slight and fair in comparison. He turned and went into the drawing-room. His manner was of a diffident man entering a strange house. He let on a blaze of light; then he stood in the doorway and gravely looked about him.

It was all new to him. He had scarcely seen the room since the furnishers had left it; and now the glare of the white and gold, the long mirrors, and all the new shining furniture shocked him. He walked carefully across the polished floor and examined the window draperies. He wondered pensively over their white satin brocaded with pale pink roses and cascades of gold ribbon, but he did not admire them. The room itself seemed endlessly long and high, and, as he leaned against the mantel, he felt like a blot on the brilliant background.

Then his mind strayed to another room, smaller than this, with chairs and sofas and tables in convenient places, so that by stretching out the hand one could reach a book. In the centre of the room was a big table, with inviting magazines and papers. There were lamps, too, and one had cast its light on the face and figure of a girl. Burton sighed. No girl could read in such a room as this.

He sought out the only table that contained books. He took up Dante's “In

ferno" bound in calf, and laid it down with a feeble smile. He opened the others. The good Vicar of Wakefield could never have been comfortable in his new-fashioned raiment of white and gold, although his daughters would have gloried in their exalted position. Again Burton smiled. Then it occurred to him to push the table into the middle of the room and set some chairs about it. But the furniture did not lend itself gracefully to unconventional attitudes, and he left his oasis stranded in the desert and passed into the library.

But the library was no more cheerful than the drawing-room. There were hundreds of books, but all robbed of individuality by uniform bindings. The stained-glass windows and sombre furniture made Burton shudder. He walked through the billiard-room. No one could be bold enough to chalk a cue in that cold, silent place. He covered his immediate retreat by shutting off the light.

As he entered his own study he experienced some relief. Here it was at least warm and cheerful. There was a drowsy fire on the hearth and a big lamp burning on the desk. The luxurious lounge and the somewhat worn chairs were comforting, and he sat down to look over his mail with returning courage. Begging letters predominated. He rarely received anything else, indeed, except bills and invitations. He read them conscientiously, thinking the while how pleasant it would be to receive a friendly letter from a small hand extended in fellowship and not for gain. As he jotted down a few notes for reference and made out some checks, he thought of the same small hand. Then a pair of eyes flashed a laughing glance at him, and a smiling mouth appeared. He saw a rounded

chin and a mass of brown hair, but he could not unite the features very well. He had just seen the face in which all were blended, but now, as he tried to catch it, it eluded him. He threw down