been conveyed in the canoes. Mounting the ponies, the party traveled up the stream until a point was reached where Portland now stands, when they slowly wended their way along the winding trails on the adjoining hills until their highest point was reached.

There they found sticks and logs piled high as if ready for a bonfire, which, in fact, was the purpose of their collection. The spot was a signal point or place from whence a fire could be seen from every direction by the membership of the tribe, in the event of a call for defense of their pastures or for the formation of a war party to invade the hunting grounds of other tribes. The view pre sented from this eminence was one from which all the beauties of nature in the wide expanse before them could be seen. The snow-capped sentinels to the east, the wooded hills, the verdant valleys, the windings of the great rivers flowing to the sea, and all their attendant glories abounding, lay in one grand, unsurpassed panorama.

Hunger, however, became more pressing than their desire to feast their eyes upon the charm of landscape; the chiefs gave the word to descend to the level below, where a meal was being prepared. To the wonder of view or craving for refreshment the son of Makiah and the daughter of Maniquon had no thought. From the first they had been drawn toward each other, and during the visit he had improved every opportunity for better understandings and whisperings of love. The rest of the party were nearly down the hillside before their absence was noticed. The first to observe it was Makiah, who quickly hastened back to bring up the laggards. As she urged her pony upwards, a retrospect of the past seemed to possess her,

and the thought that her son was breathing vows of endearment in the ears of the daughter of Maniquon was maddening. Upon reaching the summit of the hill she found her fears were fully realized, for there the lover held the hated one to his breast, and in mutual pressure of lips they were enacting the old story of youth in its happiest hour. Makiah was so wrought up with passion by the discovery that she snatched bow and arrow hanging by deerskin thongs to the neck. of her pony and let fly the death-dealing messenger. With a moan-her last-the maiden fell from the arms of her lover, Before her son pierced to the heart. could recover from the horror the deed had produced, the murderess was away and out of his reach, and, with that exultation which the frenzied only can know, she hurried to Maniquon. With yells and laughter derisive she told him who she was, and advised him to hasten to his daughter, as she might need him. While her tirade of revenge was being spoken, the signal fire, upon which the form of the dead had been placed, was being kindled. After being sure of its being reduced to ashes, the son of Makiah placed himself by the side of his loved one, and through a well-directed stab of knife, his spirit joined hers in the beyond.

The rapid consuming of the improvised funeral pyre had done its work before the returning Maniquon could interfere, and with lamentations he returned to where the remainder of the party were gathered in consultation over the firing of the signal, and not understood actions of some of their numbers, determined that Makiah should die. Seeing that she was about to move away, he hastened to intercept her, but, fleet of foot as he was, fear lent speed to her

flight and she kept a safe distance in advance of him till she arrived at the banks of the river. Upon Maniquon's near approach she pointed to the hill top and cried, "The last signal fire of the Multnomahs has been kindled, and by it the Kishi Manitou summons us to judgment. Come!" Then with a bound she sprang far out upon the waters and sank from sight. Those who followed them found Maniquon lying near the last imprint of her footsteps, and found him. dead he had answered the summons.

The words of Makiah proved prophetic, for, on the return to the island, the Indians were startled by the trapper's rifle, and they tell us that the Multnomahs neither made war nor had cause for gathering to defend after their coming. The ashes of the last signal fire were never disturbed until a city beneath had been builded, and one of its people. led a party of tourists among the embers to view the scenery. They named the spot "Council Crest," but the Indians and pioneers know it as the place of the signal fire. F. H. SAYLOR.

All old settlers in Oregon remember the late wholesouled, genial and eccentric Colonel John Kelsey, of Corvallis. But it is not generally known that the order promulgated by the supreme court that briefs submitted by attorneys should be printed was due to some cases he was to try before it. The colonel was a good lawyer, but a miserable scribe; in fact, he could not read his own writing after it got cold, if his mind was not called to the subject of the writing, and no other person would attempt to read his manuscript, hot or cold, with or without subject. He had several cases to argue before the court and had prepared written briefs thereon with much elaboration and great research from authorities. The time arrived for the trial of the causes before the court and the colonel packed his grip and, mounting the choice saddle horse, set out for the capital. When he arrived, the court was in session and case No. I was called for trial. The colonel represented the appellant and the duty devolved upon him to open the argument. He emptied his gripsack on the table and out poured his manuscript, plethoric with profundity, accumulated by months of toil. He took what he thought was the proper manuscript and, after stretching himself to his usual altitude and placing his glasses above his massive eyebrows, be

gan. “Ah-m! May it please your honors; ah-m; I say, may it please your honors Ah-m! (pausing awhile and turning over and over the three ponderous written briefs that had become somewhat mixed, he continued) I say, if the court please- I say, ah-m-I say, some one has been tinkering with my briefs. Yes, I say some busybody, I say, has changed my manuscript. I'm confounded if I-ah-m-can read the stuff." The colonel sat down bewildered. Several bystanders came to his rescue and attempted to help him out. The court stretched forward and examined with much patience the great mass of manuscript, shook their heads, and sat down. The cases were continued for the term instanter by order of the court, and the rule was then and there promulgated that all briefs in the future must be printed, which rule has since been and is still adhered to. In justice to the colonel, be it said that when he arrived home, squared himself in his office, reopened his gripsack, gazed upon the dusty volumes of legal lore and confused briefs and caught onto his subject, that is, got his proper case and brief together, poured off the heretofore incomprehensible matter with a profundity and an eloquence that would have done honor to a Rufus Choate. But the order was made and still stands.

The Indians say the Great Spirit made this mountain first of all. Can you not see how it is? they say. He first pushed down snow and ice from the skies through a hole which he made in the blue heavens by turning a stone round and round, till he made this great mountain; then he stepped out of the clouds onto the mountain top, and descended and planted the trees all around by putting his finger on the ground. Simple and sublime!

The sun melted the snow, and the water ran down and nurtured the trees and made the rivers. After that he made the fish for the rivers out of the small end of his staff. He made the birds by blowing some leaves, which he took up from the ground, among the trees. After that he made the beasts out of the remainder of his stick, but made the grizzly bear out of the big end, and made him master over all the others. He made the grizzly so strong that he feared him himself, and would have to go up on the top of the mountain out of sight of the forest to sleep at night, lest the grizzly, who, as will be seen, was much more strong and cunning then than now, should assail him in his sleep. Afterwards, the Great Spirit wishing to remain on earth and make the sea and some more land, he converted Mount Shasta by a great deal of labor into a wigwam, and built a fire in the center of it and made it a pleasant home. After that his family came down, and they all have lived in the mountain ever since. They say that before the white man came they could see the fire ascending from the mountain by night and the smoke by day, every time they chose to look in that direction. They say that one late and severe springtime

many thousand snows ago there was a great storm about the summit of Mount Shasta, and that the Great Spirit sent his youngest and fairest daughter, of whom he was very fond, up to the hole in the top, bidding her to speak to the storm. that came up from the sea, and tell it to be more gentle or it would blow the mountain over. He bade her do this hastily, and not put her head out, lest the wind would catch her in the hair and blow her away. He told her she should only thrust out her long, red arm and make a sign, and then speak to the storm without.

The child hastened to the top, and did as she was bid, and was about to return, but having never yet seen the ocean, where the wind was born, and made his home, when it was white with the storm, she stopped, turned, and put her head out to look that way, when lo! the storm caught in her long red hair, and blew her out and away down and down the mountain side. Here she could not fix her feet in the hard, smooth ice and snow, and so slid on and on down to the dark belt of firs below the snow rim.

Now, the grizzly bears possessed all the wood and all the land, even down to the sea, at that time, and were very numerous and very powerful. They were not exactly beasts then, although they were covered with hair, lived in caves, and had sharp claws; but they walked on two legs, and talked, and used clubs to fight with, instead of their teeth and claws as they do now. At this time there was a family of grizzlies living close up to the snow. The mother had lately brought forth, and the father was out in quest of food for the young, when, as he returned with his club on his shoul