On returning from our visit to old Angeline, we asked Hon. Henry Yesler, the now rich pioneer, why the princess was not better cared for by the people of the city.  He himself had been generous to her.  “Why,” he said, “if you were to give her fifty dollars, she would give it all away before night!” Benevolent old Angeline!  She ought to live in a palace instead of a hovel!  Mr. Yesler doubted the local legend, but I still wished to believe it to be true.

V.

The story of “Whitman’s Ride for Oregon” has been told in verse by the writer of this volume, as follows: 

WHITMAN’S RIDE FOR OREGON.

I.

    “An empire to be lost or won!”
      And who four thousand miles will ride
      And climb to heaven the Great Divide,
    And find the way to Washington,
      Through mountain canons, winter snows,
      O’er streams where free the north wind blows? 
    Who, who will ride from Walla-Walla,
      Four thousand miles, for Oregon?

II.

    “An empire to be lost or won? 
      In youth to man I gave my all,
      And naught is yonder mountain wall;
    If but the will of Heaven be done,
    It is not mine to live or die,
      Or count the mountains low or high,
      Or count the miles from Walla-Walla. 
    I, I will ride for Oregon!”
      ’Twas thus that Whitman made reply.

III.

    “An empire to be lost or won? 
      Bring me my Cayuse pony, then,
      And I will thread old ways again,
     Beneath the gray skies’ crystal sun. 
     ’Twas on those altars of the air
      I raised the flag, and saw below
      The measureless Columbia flow;
     The Bible oped, and bowed in prayer,
      And gave myself to God anew,
     And felt my spirit newly born;
      And to my mission I’ll be true,
     And from the vale of Walla-Walla
      I’ll ride again for Oregon.

IV.

    “I’m not my own; myself I’ve given,
      To bear to savage hordes the Word;
     If on the altars of the heaven
      I’m called to die, it is the Lord. 
     The herald may not wait or choose,
      ’Tis his the summons to obey;
     To do his best, or gain or lose,
      To seek the Guide and not the way. 
     He must not miss the cross, and I
      Have ceased to think of life or death;
    My ark I’ve builded—­heaven is nigh,
      And earth is but a morning’s breath! 
     Go, then, my Cayuse pony bring;
      The hopes that seek myself are gone,
     And from the vale of Walla-Walla
      I’ll ride again for Oregon.”

V.