years and a cost of about seven million dollars, we have the convenience of the "Locks," obviating the necessity of transshipping in order to reach the higher Columbia.

After passing the Locks we soon reached our landing-place, White Salmon, a new name, I suppose,-for the Indians say "Ancultra [long time back] salmon, he no pass Tum-water falls, it too much big leap. By-and-by, great Tomanowos bridge, he fall in, dam up water, make

river higher, then salmon, he go over. Then Snake Indian, all time catch um plenty ! "

We stayed the night in the one-house town of Bingen,-named doubtless by one of the many German settlers in thought of the Vaterland Bingen on the Rhine. What memories it calls up! In imagination, one could fancy the straight-lined strata of these basaltic rocks to be the walled-up terraces of its vine-clad hills. But where are Bishop Halto's Tower and the old Castle Ehrenfels, peering down?

They told us at the homelike country inn how the old Columbia rises sixty feet high every year over the land that is leveled down. This high water is the making of certain crops, there being just time to get them in and harvest them in due sea

son.

One can feel quite sure that the settlers hereabouts are German, Scandinavian, or Swiss. For with the house and cultivated

twelve mile round der mountain by der road!"

We should never forget, when declaiming against foreign immigration, that such men are among the makers of America.

We were destined to be thrown for our two weeks' camping amongst a colony of Swiss, and were driven the thirty miles to camp by a Swiss stage-driver. He had the manner of "Chris" of the Alps, with all the freshness and bonhommie of his namesake that we used to know.

His wife met us at the change of horses, in a real Swiss hat instead of the inevitable sun-bonnet of the country, and treated us to fresh milk. How their honest faces lighted up when we told them in the language that was dear to them that we had seen Switzerland and loved their Alps! No wonder, with their Old World memories, that they chose this spot for their new home! The everlasting snows of Mount Adams looking down upon them and the

lower mountains round the little lake, the inlet, and the gurgling streams, must have reminded them of home. Still children of the Alps, they can sing their Alpine songs though in a foreign land.

"Once, I lived a whole year on the prairie," Peter Schmidt said. "And all that time I never felt like singing. At home, I would feel like singing a whole week."

And the entire evening, he, his wife, and brother-in-law sang for us round our camp-fire the Alpine yodel-songs that call home the straying cows. Last came a tender minor melody,-" Farewell to Home." They could sing no more; their voices were full of tears, these hardy peasants who know what heimweh is.

Mount Adams is an extinct volcano, standing 12,700 feet high. One evening, its crater, with the four peaks on its sides, appeared to be alive again. Jets of smoke seemed rising in the air, and the snow, al alight from the setting sun, might pass for molten lava flowing slowly down! Presently a cloud came floating from the west, in form like an angel's wing, spreading itself across the mountain's face. When it had vanished, all was quiet and cold and gray! At the head of the little lake is the strangely-shaped mountain mountain called "Dead Man's Butte," its outlines defining a giant coffin standing lonely on its summit. Could there be another Moses's burying-place in this Western land?

The huckleberries were ripening fast at the base of Au-ka-ken, the "Witch Mountain" of the Indians, and Indians were hurrying now from the reservations of three States-Washington, Oregon, and Idaho to this vast berry-patch. We saw them striking camp alongside of the road early one morning, the lithe young squaws harnessing their cayuses, and the fat, clumsy old ones packing up their breakfast tins, ready for the day's travel. The Siwash (man) spends his leisure moments at poker, gambling everything away till there is only his squaw left,and then she goes, too!

The little lake was rightly named Trout Lake, for it was full of trout. From the boat, of an evening, one can hear every moment the sporting of big and little fish, the flip of the fishing-rod, the whirr of the reel, and the impetuous slapdash of the speckled beauty.

"The fish is lost, and the hook in his mouth!" groaned the fisherman.

"I wonder whether he will ever get rid of the hook?"

And the wag of the party replied, "Some day, when he's picking his teeth, he'll jerk it out!"

Now and again the ducks, from their breeding-swamp close by, pass above us with a "whish," and presently an orange light in the gloom, and then a report from a boy's gun!

N CONTINUING my "Campaigning in the Philippines," I do not claim for my narrative any historical value. As I remarked in the first article, a soldier is in no position to report or to criticise anything more than the events with which he comes into immediate contact, and these are but an infinitesimal fraction of what occurs around him. His speculations could bear no more weight than the descriptions of a child amongst his companions concerning a circus that he has but peeped at through the flaps of the tent.

On our entry into Manila it did not look as though the natives desired to try conclusions with us. It is true that the followers of Aguinaldo withdrew from the suburbs but sullenly when so ordered. Nor did they submit with very good grace to being searched for concealed weapons upon entering the town. But then we appeared on such friendly terms with those within the city who had many kin in the insurgent army that it was hard to believe they intended to turn against us. Again, the greater part of the wages of the American soldier eventually made its way into the pockets of the natives, who in no time during Spanish rule could have found themselves under such prosperous circumstances or so well protected from arbitrary treatment. In addition, we believed that Aguinaldo was only raising a big bluff to see how far he could "work Uncle Sam for a good thing." Knowing that he had already accepted Spanish bribes, we thought it probable that he was expecting some douceur from the United States Government as an inducement to submit. But we calculated that when he discovered Uncie Sam was not to be played with, he would climb down from his high horse and make the best possible terms for himself, and incidentally for his people.

Some of us even went so far as to concede to the Filipinos certain rights, and

say that we had no more business to lay hands on the Philippines than had Lafay ette to claim a portion of the United States for France when she assisted us to expel the English and obtain our freedom; but that the only footing we had on the islands by any right was the utter incapability of the Filipino to rule himself and the protection due to the lives and property of American subjects and foreign residents. This reasoning, however, the ignorant Filipino, who knew only that he was besting the hated Spaniard in a fight that had been dragging on for three years, after a continuous enmity for two hundred years, could not be expected to understand. Therefore, we had to take other recourse than speech to drill it into him.

With a few disturbances in town, which were promptly quelled, Manila settled down under martial law to its somewhat humdrum life, with probably a lower per centage of crime than most cities of its size. The military patrols were taken off the streets and the policing of the dif ferent districts turned over into the hands of the Minnesota regiment, which soon displayed a marked efficiency in that par ticular line of duty. As for the other regiments, those not on outpost duty, with an eye on the movements of the In surgents, were doing garrison duty in town. Our brown canvas clothes that had done duty in the trenches were cast asid for immaculate white uniforms, and ou weather-stained campaign hats wer doffed for corked helmets. Close-for mation drills and dress-parades took the place of skirmish drills, more useful, bu less ornamental. How we loved thos dress parades! The perspiration would be trickling down our noses, and pasting our blue shirts to our backs beneath the heavy blouses as we marched down to the Luneta. Insects would be tickling ou nostrils and mosquitoes tormenting us a we stood at the "dress" whilst the musi