The resources and agricultural possibilities of Southern Oregon are gradually coming more and more into prominence. Many home-seekers, principally Eastern folk, are now visiting this locality and are on the lookout for good locations.
    Going north from California into Oregon on the Oregon and California Railroad, the traveler is compelled to stage it across the border line, as about eight miles of the railroad remain yet to be completed. The cars are resumed at Ashland, Or.
      Ashland lies at the southern end of the Rogue River Valley, which is one of the fertile places of Southern Oregon, springing into prominence just now. Here in this valley are grown abundant crops of wheat and fruit, both of a good quality. Fifteen miles north of Ashland lie Medford and Jacksonville--the former on the eastern and the latter on the western slope of the valley, about five miles apart. Both of these towns are in the center of the valley and are surrounded on all sides by large and prosperous farms. Jacksonville and Medford, though near neighbors, differ widely from each other in many respects. Three years ago there was no such place at Medford. The railroad located a water tank and an eating station there, and in a short time a town sprang. up. [The town sprang up before the construction of the depot.] Although only three years old, Medford now boasts of nearly a thousand inhabitants. Jacksonville, on the contrary, is an old established town about twice the size of Medford, and was an old town long before the railroad was thought of. Why the railroad did not come through Jacksonville is a conundrum which few of its residents can intelligently answer. As it is, the town is now reached by stage daily from Medford. Still, even as it is now, Jacksonville is not complaining, for she is better connected now with the outside world than formerly. There are several other towns situated in the Rogue River Valley, but they do not compare in size or importance with Ashland, Medford or Jacksonville. A small place called Gold Hill stands at the extreme northern end of the valley.
    There is in this portion of Oregon a disposition among the people, more especially the farmers, to adhere to old-fashioned methods and customs. Anything "newfangled" meets their utmost contempt. The farmers in many cases will not even enclose their lands with decent-looking fences, the old-time "stake and rider" fences prevailing. Then again, they persist in wheat-growing, taking their chances on being able to get rid of it all at anything like a fair price, when it has been thoroughly proven to them that they have one of the best countries in the land for growing apples, pears and prunes. These three fruits reach perfection here. It is true that several farmers in the Rogue River Valley are now engaged in fruit-growing, doubling their profits and relieving themselves from all worry and care, but in nine cases out of ten these very farmers are Eastern men who have only recently located in this section of the country. It did not take them long to find out where the immense resources of the country lie, and they quickly took advantage of their discovery. Of course the majority of the Oregonians, with their antiquated ways, laughed at first at these Easterners, and many of the more obstinate ones continue to do so yet. But it will be of short duration.
    Apropos to this, a circumstance which occurred in this vicinity not long ago might be of interest. An eccentric-looking old farmer, who had left his farm in Maine, came into Southern Oregon and bought forty acres near Ashland. Notwithstanding the fact that surrounding him on all sides was to be seen growing nothing but wheat, this eccentric-looking individual made a careful examination of his soil and formed his own opinion as to what it is most adapted. Imagine the horror of his neighbors when they discovered that this eccentric-looking old man had planted his entire forty acres in watermelons. Certainly the old man was not only eccentric, but hopelessly insane, and there was considerable talk among the farmers of having him examined by an insanity commission. But when the eccentric-looking old man raised an immense crop of melons and reaped about triple the profit per acre that his sympathetic neighbors did from their grain fields, it began to dawn upon them that he was not such a fool as he looked. So it is with most with the farmers in regard to fruit-growing. It is hard to pull them out of the old rut. But it is only a matter of time when they will fall into line with the progressive newcomers, and assist in the general development of this section of the country.
    The climate here is good. Of course there are better climates on the coast--they can't all have the best--but it is enough to say that that of Southern Oregon is good, never being too warm or too cold, and is, as a rule, uniformly even. It partakes of many of the features of the California climate. The prolonged rainy seasons are not so prevalent in this section of the state as they are further north, and can hardly be termed a "webfoot" section.
San Francisco Bulletin, August 4, 1887, page 4






    ROSEBURG (Or.), December 18th.--The last-spike excursion train has taken its flight today through one of the most beautiful and picturesque stretches of country on the whole Pacific Coast--over high ranges of hills, thickly covered with splendid timber; through rich and fertile valleys, thickly settled by prosperous farmers; along dashing streams of water filled with mountain trout, and through hamlets, villages and towns that gave evidences of new life and activity. Scarcely a section upon this continent could be selected where a day's journey could be made through more
    While other roads may pass through scenes of more massive grandeur, none can boast of more impressive and picturesque interest. Viewed from the standpoint of the future possibilities of this region, under the first impulses of through railroad communication with the great markets of the world, the importance of this section can hardly be overestimated. The timber along the line is of untold wealth in itself, and its importation into the markets of California over the the new line of railroad will soon make itself felt, not only among the lumber dealers, but in the pockets of the consumers.
    The display of corn, grain and vegetables and fruit at the various stations provided a great surprise for most of the Californians. The famous Oregon apple, of a hundred choice varieties, and a most delicious favor, was a feature of every exhibit, and it is safe to say that no place on the earth can surpass this in the production of that fruit in all its perfection.
    Specimens of sawed, planed and milled lumber were also displayed at several points, and excited the admiration of all. It has been a sightseeing day, and one which was worth the whole trip from San Francisco.
    The train left Ashland at 7 o'clock in the morning, and was soon out in the beautiful valley of the Rogue River. It was a delightfully clear and bright day, with just enough crisp chilliness in the breezy air to put life and vigor into the frame of man.
    Looking to the east the newly plowed fields indicated the stimulus which the agricultural interests had received by the completion of the road. The settlers along the line were out with their wives and families waving their handkerchiefs and shouting a welcome to the flying train.
    In some instances a farmer would point with pride towards his farm, where the rich black loam land could be seen freshly turned over by the plow, as much as to say, "This was formerly a pasture, but with railroad facilities we will raise grain and send it down to your California markets." There were some old orchards, and many new ones, and fields plowed like checkerboards, indicating that other orchards were being planted.
    Ten miles further on Phoenix was reached, where the valley broadens out on the west, a broad, level stretch to the Coast Range of mountains, and on the east a rolling country as beautiful and fertile as the famous bluegrass region of Kentucky, though lacking its high state of cultivation.
    Medford was reached at 7:30, and here the people were assembled in large numbers, with a band of music, to greet the excursion. Here was a fine display of fruit and vegetables, and a large placard reading:
    "Medford gives you greeting! Help yourself!" The invitation was accepted, and apples formed the principal meal for the travelers. Mayor Howard made a short speech of welcome, and Charles Crocker exhibited the golden spike to the crowd, which elicited applause. This place is only two years old, but it has a population of 1,500, has good public, business and school buildings, and shows every evidence of prosperity.
    John P. Irish was here presented with a mammoth potato, and E. S. Washburn, the well-known San Francisco contractor, created a sensation. He was making his toilet and had just donned his pantaloons, when he saw through the window the invitation, "help yourself." The train was just starting, but he leaped from the platform, and seizing an immense squash, weighing 155 pounds, bore it triumphantly on board, with the exclamation: "I could not steal the city hall, but I can get away with anything that grows in Oregon."
    The people were out in force, and gave the Californians a hearty reception. The display of fruits and lumber was very fine. Upon the side of the depot next the train was a handsome design in evergreens, bearing the words: "Welcome, California." Mayor F. W. VanDyke delivered an address of welcome, which was responded to by Charles Crocker, who also exhibited the golden spike. John P. Irish was loudly called for, and made a humorous speech. The assembled crowd gave three cheers for Charles Crocker as the train pulled out of the depot.
    Glendale was reached at 7 o'clock, and here the train carrying the Oregon party overtook the California train. Members of the two parties here changed cars, some Californians boarding the Oregon train, and vice versa, in order that they might become better acquainted and have an interchange of views.
    SALEM, December 18th.--Roseburg was reached by the excursion train at 2 o'clock, and a most enthusiastic reception was met with at the hands of the people of this thriving and enterprising city, which is located in a beautiful valley surrounded on all sides by hills. A band of music was present, and L. F. Lane delivered an address of welcome, in which he said there was no chasm between Western and Southern Oregon and California. They were of the same family. The interests of the one were the interests of the other. He claimed that the excursionists had come to them on their wash day, and invited them all to come again in the brightness of their springtime and the blossoming of their summer, when they would have on Sunday clothes and the visitors would have no reason to be ashamed of their country cousins.
"Lovely Oregon," Sacramento Daily Record-Union, December 19, 1887, page 1

Special Dispatch to the Globe-Democrat.
    SAN FRANCISCO, CAL., December 17.--The most important railroad event that has occurred here since the completion of the Central Pacific Railroad took place today, when the last spike on the California and Oregon Railroad was driven at Ashland, Ore.
    This event represents twenty-one years of rail construction almost steadily pushed through the project of surmounting the mountain ranges of Northern California and Southern Oregon. The accomplishment, undoubtedly, is regarded by commercial circles of the Pacific Coast as the most important in its significance since the completion of the first overland railway system in May, 1867. It affords for the first time all-rail communication between the cities of the Pacific Coast, and places under the control of one railway corporation an unbroken line from New Orleans to Portland, Ore., a distance of 5000 miles. Its projectors contend for the system from the strategic standpoint, that the completion of the northern link is of valid importance to the national government as a defensive measure in case of war, and the rapid concentration of troops.
    Special trains from San Francisco and Portland brought large numbers of prominent gentlemen to witness the driving of the last spike. The party from Oregon included the Governor and other state officers. There were large crowds at all points to greet the California train, and great enthusiasm was manifested. Leaving Redding for the north, the heavy train was drawn up the steep approaches of the mountains by three powerful engines, reaching Sissons at 7 o'clock this morning, 4000 feet above the sea level at the base of Mount Shasta, which rises 14,400 feet above Sissons. The train wound around the great buttes descending into the Shasta Valley. At this point the stupendous character of the engineering difficulties in compassing the Shasta range began to be revealed. Ascending Klamath range, the railway forms loops, the track itself rising in tiers, the road at one point traversing eighteen miles in accomplishing an air line of one-third that distance. In the forenoon the Siskiyou tunnel was reached. This pierces the mountain for 3300 feet, and soon after leaving it the companion tunnel, 1400 feet in length, was entered. This last tunnel delayed the construction of the road two years.
    At 4:45 o'clock the train reached Ashland, where the ceremony of driving the last spike was observed. Mr. Crocker struck the blows which completed the road and simultaneously fired cannon in Portland and San Francisco.
    The president of the day, Hon. H. Davis, representative of the municipality and the Chamber of Commerce of Francisco, spoke briefly. After prayer by Rev. F. G. Strong, Gov. Pennoyer spoke.
    The history of railroad building in California furnishes no parallel to the delays and difficulties experienced in the construction of the California and Oregon Railroad. It is over twenty years since ground was first broken, and during much of this time it seemed doubtful whether the great rocky barrier between the two states would ever be climbed by the iron horse. It was in 1866 that the land grant was made by Congress to two companies to construct a railroad between the Central Pacific line at Roseville, Cal., and Portland, Ore. The California company was known as the California and Oregon, while the webfoot corporation was styled the Oregon and California. The California company had 296 miles to build, about one-half of it over the most rugged mountain country on the coast. The Oregon company had comparatively plain sailing, with only about thirty miles of mountain country to traverse. This company, however, had to get over the great Siskiyou Mountain divide, a problem that no railway engineer who had looked over the route cared to tackle. The grant provided that both roads must be finished by October 1, 1880. For every twenty miles of completed road each company was to receive 256,000 acres of land, which they were privileged to select from the odd-numbered sections. Much of this was fine agricultural land, covered with heavy growth of oak or pine.
    The California company, which was backed by the Central Pacific managers, built their road leisurely to Redding, at the head of the Sacramento Valley. This was done in six years. The road ran along the Sacramento River, and no difficulties were experienced in construction. Here, however, all work on the road was dropped for nearly ten years. Meanwhile the Oregon company built their road through the level Willamette Valley to Ashland, leaving a gap of 164 miles between the two roads. Each road had received a large subsidy and a liberal land grant for building a road which did not cost more than $40,000 a mile. The California company patented its lands south of Redding, and so energetically pushed colonization that soon there were more settlers on their sections than on the government land. By midsummer in 1880 there was great clamor in Congress for the forfeiture of the lands of both corporations through which they had built no road. It looked very much as though the land grant would be taken from them, but by some methods they succeeded in staying the storm. The immediate effect of the danger they had met was seen in a renewal of railroad work by the California company. They put on a large force of men, but most of the labor was spent in preparing a roadbed, as in five years only thirty-eight miles of track were laid. On the other side of the mountains not a stroke of pick was made, as the Oregon company had failed and passed into the hands of a receiver.
    The slow work of quarrying a roadbed out of solid rock was carried on above Redding, and by the fall of 1884 trains were running to Delta, about forty miles above Redding, leaving a gap of 125 miles to be covered. From this point the work was prosecuted with the same vigor which marked the construction of the Central and Southern Pacific. Every man who could be secured was shipped north to the road, and thousands of expert graders were at work in drilling tunnels and other heavy labor. Early last summer Sissons was reached, at the foot of Mount Shasta, and only eighty miles remained to make the through connection. Every nerve was strained to complete the road before the rainy season, but the extreme difficulty of crossing some of the mountain passes prevented, and it was only about a fortnight ago that the road was practically completed. Even now it is indifferently ballasted, and the skeptics declare will be in poor condition for winter travel.
    The engineering difficulties encountered on the California and Oregon road are worthy of passing notice. There was no great tunnel of the length of the celebrated cut through Tehachapi Pass, on the Southern Pacific, but in the matter of contiguous obstructions to straight-line road cutting this road has presented the greatest number of obstacles of any California line. In engineering parlance the great difficulties have laid in the development of the line. From the Roseville Junction to the Oregon Division at Ashland the line is 296 miles long, and to within twenty-five miles of that city the road rises and falls continuously until at the summit of the Siskiyou Mountains the line is 4108 feet above the sea level. The sinuosities are remarkable. In no less than three places are there loops, and from two and a half to three times the distance in a straight line is covered by the track in several places in passing from one point to another. The tangent lines are very short, and the bed has been laid for the greater part through the toughest of rock, requiring the most arduous work and calling for the expenditure of large sums of money. From Redding northward the road runs along the Sacramento River and round Horseshoe Bend over the first trestle-bridge into the hard conglomerate rock of the two tunnels at Sugar Loaf and Peach Orchard, where the difficulties commence. As the road continues northward the Sacramento River is crossed and recrossed until at Deer Lick Flat the river is forsaken at the eighteenth crossing, some fifty-five miles north of the starting point. Before reaching the last crossing several spots are passed worthy of attention. At Castle Creek the first view of the great Castle Peaks, rising 4000 feet above the river and which in time will be objects of real interest to tourists, is obtained. Lower Soda Springs are white soda springs in Shasta County, and the company has there bought a large tract of land, intending to turn the locality into a pleasure resort. The Upper Soda Springs, of a similar nature, and to the Sacramento River, mark the gradual rise of the road, which, a mile and three-quarters further on, at a place called Falls, skirts the bubbling waters which have filtered down through the stratified rock from Mount Shasta. From Falls to McCloud is a distance of four miles as the crow flies, but requires ten and a half miles of track to pass from one point to the other. Leaving Falls, the line follows the river for about a mile, rising continuously, then it turns back, running downstream again, but continuing the up grade until Sawmill Gulch is reached, one of the scenic points of the route. Here a horseshoe curve is made and a perfect semicircle is described, the line returning at a greater elevation to within 200 feet of the point passed shortly before entering on the curve. Immediately after passing the curve the first large trestle bridge is crossed at Big Canyon, at the bottom of which, 70 feet below, rush the waters of one the little feeders of the Sacramento River. The bridge is 372 feet long, and continues the upward grade of the track to McCloud. Three miles further on Sissons, which is right opposite hoary Mount Shasta, is reached, and then at Big Springs the headwaters of the Sacramento River are passed, from which point the grade rises to Summit, or Black Butte Pass, 3904 feet above the sea level. A down-grade of eight miles to Edgewood, in the Shasta Valley, reduces the height of the track above the sea level to 2955 feet, a fall of 949 feet. Then comes a tangent stretch of seven miles from Edgewood, or Butteville, to Montague, in Siskiyou County, the road here being the only comparatively easy bit of track-laying on the whole line. The railroad passes diagonally through the town and crosses the Shasta River, running smoothly on Willow Creek, where heavy work is again encountered. This creek is crossed four times, until, at its junction with the Klamath River, a single-span iron bridge 260 feet long skips the waters, and Hornbrook, close to the old hydraulic mining town of Cottonwood, is reached. At Hudon Creek a trestle bridge 80 feet high and 780 feet long crosses the Bailey, and then the greatest difficulties commence, as the entire ascent of Bailey has been effected without a tunnel of any kind and by cutting the road high up in the mountainside. The grade is the steepest in the entire road, and commences at Schetler Creek, one and a half miles north of Hornbrook, rising at the rate of 174 feet to the mile until the summit of Bailey Hill is attained, at a height of 3045 feet above sea level. From here there is a down grade of one and one-fourth miles, and Coles, the last depot on the California side, is reached. The boundary line is passed at a place called Chestnut, and the maximum altitude of the entire line is reached at a point ten miles across the line, the road having been cut in solid rock to a height of 4100 feet in the Siskiyou Mountains, at a distance of 388 miles from San Francisco. At the summit there is a solid rock-bored tunnel 3108 feet long from entrance to exit, and some idea of the difficulties may be gathered from the fact that no less than three lines were surveyed to try and avoid the delve through the mountain. Then comes the descent, with two long loops in it, each two and a half times the length of the straight-line distance between the points of commencement and ending, and then four miles of straight track ends the journey over the new line and brings the traveler to Ashland, whence the older road of the Oregon and California Company leads to Portland, a distance of 340 miles, making the total length from the Roseville Junction 636 miles.
    The new road promises to be very popular with all tourists to the Pacific Coast, as it is unsurpassed for variety and grandeur of mountain scenery by any road in the country. The ride through the Sacramento Valley gives the traveler the best idea of this enormous agricultural region. The river drains a territory larger than the whole state of New York and destined one day to be as densely populated. The road follows the river, now passing through wheat fields seventeen miles in length and now skirting great fruit orchards in which a single row of peach trees extends for a mile without a break. Fortunately, these great domains are being split up, and every year sees many thousand acres divided among small holders, who will convert the grain fields into orchard and vineyards. Redding lies naturally at the head of this magnificent valley, receiving tribute from lumbering, mining and agricultural industries. Nothing could be prettier than the view from this town down the Sacramento Valley, with nothing to break the view but the Lassen Butte, an enormous mass of rock upheaved in the center of the plain. On one side are the lofty Sierra and up the other the rugged Coast Mountains. This valley is the garden of California, and in climate, soil, and natural advantages it would be difficult to find its parallel--even in the Mississippi or Missouri valleys. From Redding northward the wild mountain scenery begins, and for a stretch of 80 miles the road runs through defiles, crosses canyons, skirts mountain passes, leaps over lofty trestles and rushes through deep tunnels. Experts who have been over the Canadian Pacific declare that this dominion has nothing to compare with the awe-inspiring scenery which is spread out here in bewildering variety before the tourists. The first great natural curiosity reached is the Castle Rocks, a mass of gray granite looking like the battlements of a medieval city. This enormous granite wall seems to have been thrust upward through the agency of a great volcanic convulsion; until now its highest columns are 4000 feet above the level of the surrounding valley. Soon after the Castle Rocks are left behind Mount Shasta bursts upon the view. Shasta is 14,442 feet high, being surpassed in altitude by only two mountain peaks on the Pacific Coast of the United States--Rainier, in Oregon, and Whitney, in California. It is the most beautiful mountain on the coast, however, having a perfectly conical shape, and being covered with snow for the greater part of the year. It is the central figure of the landscape for nearly 200 miles, towering above everything, and making neighboring mountain peaks, which, alone, would be called grand and beautiful, appear mean and insignificant. This peak, like all the others in this country, shows many places of volcanic origin. On the side of the smaller peak is a crater bowl about three-quarters of a mile across and 1500 feet deep, the ragged rim of which shows plainly where the lava once poured over its edge down into the valley below. Near the summit can be seen the geodetic monument glistening in the sun. This was erected by the Coast Survey in 1875, as the extreme cold and high altitude made it impossible for an observer to live on the mountain. In the early autumn Shasta is easily climbed, but at any other season the ascent is hazardous. John Muir, the well-known scientist, nearly lost his life on the mountain in the preliminary survey work, as he was caught by a sudden storm, and but for the lucky discovery of hot vapor springs in a cave near the summit, he would have frozen to death. Above the 8000-foot level vegetation disappears, and the remaining 8000 feet are usually sheeted with snow, through which appear the black scars of old volcanic eruptions.
    At Upper Soda Springs the scenery is very fine, as here one gets glimpses of Mossbrae Falls and a superb view of the Big Bend and the great trestles beyond. The bend is sure to be a favorite point of observation for tourists, and regular trains will no doubt halt here, as they used to do at Cape Horn, on the Central Pacific, to allow passengers to enjoy the magnificent prospect. Here the tourist leaves the Sacramento River whose course he has followed from its mouth nearly to the source in Shasta's snows; below is the great gorge hollowed out by the river, and as far as the eye can reach one pine-covered headland succeeds another. Soon after passing the bend one comes to Sissons, a famous stopping place on the old stage road and a popular mountain resort because it looks out directly on Shasta, only twelve miles away, while the hunting and fishing in the McCloud River nearby are unsurpassed in the state. Deer are still common, and the mountain trout is worthy of the attention of the epicure. At Acme, eight miles beyond, is reached the highest railroad elevation in Northern California--3902 feet above sea level. Here two enormous locomotives are used, as the grades along this part of the road are frequently 2.2 feet to the 100. The road now passes through some of the most valuable pine timber land in the state. The sugar and yellow pine predominate, but the nut pine is the most beautiful, with its light, feathery foliage and the huge cones which conceal nuts dear to the heart of the Digger Indian. The remainder of the ride in California is made interesting by the wild scenery of the Siskiyou Mountains, which forms a natural barrier between California and Oregon. Just over the divide is found a huge granite pillar called Pilot Rock, that marks the southernmost point of the Cascade Range of mountains--the continuation of the Sierra Nevadas. It has been a landmark ever since the Hudson Bay trappers penetrated this country more than 100 years ago, and it served as a valuable signal station for the Rogue River and Klamath Indians in their savage wars with the early settlers. This, too, was the point toward which the Missouri emigrant toiled with his ox-team and prairie schooner on the old Oregon trail, and this was the Pisgah from which he looked down on the Canaan of the rich Willamette Valley. [The Willamette Valley begins over 100 miles north of Pilot Rock.] Over in Oregon the country changes. There is not the superb mountain scenery that has been left behind, but there is a great rolling valley stretching away for miles on miles, cut by large rivers and covered with dense woods in all but the central and thickly populated section. This Willamette Valley was settled long before most parts of California, and many of the pioneers still remain to bear testimony to the virtues of the climate and the bounty of the soil. Shut in by the Coast Ranges from the sea breezes, and by the lofty Cascades from the harsh east wind of Idaho, this valley has an ideal situation, and is capable of supporting as large a population as the Valley of the Sacramento. The chief points of interest along the road in Oregon are Table Rock, a huge flat rock, looking not unlike the stump of a mammoth tree of Calaveras, which has historical value because of the sharp fights that took place on it between a band of Rogue River Indians and American troops, in which the savages were demoralized by the rifle balls, driven head first over the sides of the bluff, dashed to pieces on the rocks below. [This is a myth.] The Umpqua and Rogue River valleys would be called unsurpassed were it not that the tourist is already sated with canyon scenery. The mountains, however, that mark the Cascade Range are worthy attention for their beautiful form and snow-crowned summits. They form a row of sentinels guarding the valley--Pitt, Scott, Three Sisters, Jefferson, Hood, Adams, Rainier. Of these Mt. Hood is the most imposing, and the nearest to Portland. Through the rich valley, along the winding Willamette, one finally reaches the chief city of Oregon and the terminus of the road. The outlook from Portland on three great mountain peaks, eternally covered with snow, is something worth a long journey to see.
    As a through route for the Southern Pacific Company from Portland to the east, the new road possesses great advantages. The Southern Pacific owns the whole road both in California and Oregon and will soon be prepared to ship wheat and other Oregon products to the Atlantic Seaboard cities by central or southern route. The Sunset route now controls three-quarters of the Atlantic Coast shipments to California because of its superior facilities and the certainty and speed with which it handles freight. The company propose to make the same bid for Oregon freights, and the prospect is not a cheerful one for rival lines. Its main market will be New York, which it can put against Chicago, and in this competition the Union Pacific is bound to suffer.
    There is a sort of poetical justice in this retaliation on the Union Pacific, as the new manager of that road severely hurt the trade of San Francisco and the business of the Southern Pacific by his methods. He conceived the idea of grasping all the trade of Idaho, Montana and Eastern Oregon by utilizing the Oregon Railway and Navigation Company and stopping all shipments by the Central Pacific. He was able to make freight rates with which the California managers could not compete, and for six months he has enjoyed the monopoly of the trade of this large section. Now, however, the Southern Pacific are in a position to gather up all this trade, and a knowledge of their methods leaves not the slightest doubt that they will take everything in sight. The Northern Pacific will also be seriously hurt, and its territory, as well as that of the Union Pacific, will be further encroached upon by the building of feeders for the Southern Pacific in Washington Territory and Eastern Oregon. When these are constructed the Southern Pacific will have the wheat shipments in its own hands.
    The completion of this new road, however, means more to San Francisco than to any city in the country. For many years the merchants of this city enjoyed the uninterrupted trade of Oregon and all the Northern Territories. The Northern Pacific and the Oregon Short Line changed all this. The roads made a direct bid for the Oregon trade, and the result was that a large line of manufactured goods were brought direct from the East and sold at such low prices that our merchants and manufacturers were unable to compete with them. In paper, books and stationery, tobacco, furniture, stoves and canned goods the East has cut heavily into San Francisco's trade. Nearly all the furniture used in Oregon comes from the East, although California is specially favored in this manufacture by the variety of her choice cabinet woods. In fresh and canned fruit California ought to have the monopoly in Oregon, and it no doubt will have it as soon as the new road begins running regular trains. The northern counties of California raise an enormous amount of fruit, which has heretofore failed to find a market except in the canned or dried state. With the new refrigerator cars it can be supplied to Oregon and to all the mining towns in Idaho and Montana for one-half the price of Eastern fruit. This opportunity for the great development of local trade is what makes the Chamber of Commerce, Board of Trade and the Manufacturers' Association take so eager an interest in the opening of the road. It means many millions added yearly to San Francisco's trade, and it also means a powerful stimulus to young manufacturing industries that have had a hard struggle for existence.
    As a tourist route the new road has so many advantages that a brief summary of them is all that is necessary. The favorite route now with tourists is by way of the Southern Pacific or the Atchison to Los Angeles and San Diego. An attempt to divert the tide of travel to the Central Pacific resulted in failure this winter. But three-quarters of those who go to Southern California pay a visit to San Francisco, and return either by the Central or Northern Pacific. By the latter route they were compelled to go by steamer to Portland or Puget Sound ports, in order to avoid the stage riding over the Siskiyou Mountains. With the Oregon road now open the majority of tourists will not miss this superb scenery, but they will go through to Portland, and from there will take the Northern Pacific for the East. This will mean hundreds of thousands of dollars for the resorts of Northern California, and what is better, it will mean the introduction of prospective settlers to some of the richest counties in the state, which have been ignored because of the difficulty of reaching them. The new road, too, opens direct rail communication between British Columbia and the City of Mexico, while on the extreme Pacific Coast there is now a complete line of railroad from the extreme north of Washington Territory to Guaymas in Sonora, a result which seemed as far distant twenty years ago as does now the union by rail of Alaska and Panama. This new road, in fact, is typical of the marvelous rapid development of the Pacific Coast, and it is also an earnest of the great changes and the swift progress that the next decade will witness.
St. Louis Globe-Democrat, December 19, 1887, page 3


    Salem, the capital, comes next, then Albany, concerning which places I cannot say much, as it had by this time grown quite dark, but our train spend on, rounding short curves and craggy hills until 9 o'clock the next morning, at which time we were in Ashland, the terminus of the O.&C.R.R. This is a small place near the south line of the state and at the foot of the Siskiyou Mountains. The valleys were green, and farmers were plowing all the way along.
    At this point a different mode of travel, and a new one to me, was before us; as we alighted from the train we were confronted by five large vehicles resembling the old-fashioned "tin peddler's wagon," with which all Union County people are familiar, except that they are heavier. These belonged to the California, Oregon and Idaho Stage Company, and were called stages. In these we must go up the mountain. There were three seats in each one, and three persons were crowded into each seat. When all was ready the driver cracked his whip, and the great stage rolled away.
    This reminded me of the many stories I had heard of stage travel in the Wild West, and I wondered if we would be stopped by a band of robbers, or would be fired on by the savage Indian. I wondered if James Clugage had ever been over this road. While these and many other thoughts were passing through my mind, we were leaving Ashland and the narrow valley behind and below us. Things were not so green, and the snow is nearer to us. Finally our stage stopped and the driver jumped from his lofty box and said, "All passengers, alight," which we did. We were at the base of a very steep mountain, and in a very few words the driver told us that we would have the pleasure of ascending on foot, as it was impossible for the horses to draw more than the stages and baggage. Off we all started, men, women and children, but not in the best of humor, some laughing, others swearing, and others crying, but up we went.
    The day was fine, the scenery sublime, but I will not undertake to describe it. I would say to all visitors to the Pacific Coast to take a trip through Northern California and Southern Oregon. We made short curves, going back almost to the place from which we started; here we came to snow, the first I was in for the season. I must make a snowball, and another, yet up we go; now the glad news comes from those in front, a hotel, which we all hailed with joy, and where we all partook of a healthy supper, for the moderate sum of fifty cents. Passengers kept coming in for nearly two hours. Soon the crack of the stageman's whip was heard, and the heavy stage rolled up in front of the hotel with the remainder of the party, who had given out on the way. Here fresh horses were procured, and this time we made even a steeper climb, but this going up could not always last, and at length the summit was reached amid the shouts of the boys and over a foot of snow. Here this mode of travel came to an end, for the Southern Pacific road has pushed her California branch to the summit of these mountains, and a train was standing there ready to convey us down the southern slope more easily than we ascended the northern. After starting, we passed through a tunnel almost a mile in length. Down we went, a grade of nearly 200 feet to the mile, until we were landed in the narrow valley below, which widened out into a vast prairie and plain. Here another grand view stands out before the eye. On all sides are snow-covered mountains, while everything is green around you. In the distance is Mt. Shasta, over 12,000 feet high, and to the west of it is the valley; with no hill near it looms up another mount some 5,000 feet high.
    While viewing this grand panorama, night closed and the scene was shut from view. Here I "turned in" and knew no more until Sacramento, the capital of California, was reached, but being not yet daylight I only seen it by electric light.
Will H. Sheneman, letter of December 21, 1887, "Still on the Go," Marysville Tribune, Marysville, Ohio, January 4, 1888, page 4


    EDITOR DISPATCH, YORK, PA.:--Being a native of York County, as well:as having been a resident thereof for several years during the early part of my life, I receive occasional letters from your section making various inquiries about Oregon, of which state I have now for many years been a resident. With your kind permission I will endeavor to answer some of these inquiries in your valuable journal as there are, doubtless, many persons beside my own personal friends, living in your section, that would like to hear something about this part of the world.
    One of these writes: "How is the climate where you live in the winter? I had a discussion on the subject with a gentleman in Wrightsville. He said that he had always understood that our winters were your wet season; but have been informed that you had cold weather also. It would interest me much to know all about such matters, etc."
    Another says: "In what part of Oregon are you? Are you east of the mountain range, or between that and the coast?" And again: "You speak of the rainy season there, what do you do while it lasts? Read, I suppose."'
    To the question, "Are you east of the mountain range or between that and the coast?'' I said: "To an Oregonian, your question betrays this fact; namely, that you are not posted quite as well in regard to the physical features of Uncle Sam's domain as we who live here are. You do very well, however, for a non-resident and one who has had no occasion to make a special study of the topographical features of this region," stating, however, that I would answer said question in due time.
    But at the question, "You speak of the rainy season there, what do you do while it lasts? Read, I suppose," I had to smile; for I saw that the writer quite misapprehended the character of our rainy season.
    I will now endeavor, as best I may, to answer these questions. And first in regard to the rainy season. In general terms our rainy season corresponds to the winter, and the dry season to our summer, with the spring and the fall months partaking of the characteristics of both. That is to say: the rainy season extends from December to February inclusive, the dry season from June to September inclusive, with spring months and a short time during the fall months partaking, as I said before, of the characteristics of both; all this varying much, however, in different years. Thus some years the rains begin pretty early in the fall, in other years they hold off quite late; and the same is true of the spring months; some years the rains cease early in the spring, in other years they hold on quite late.
    The rainy season begins therefore, I may say, with occasional rainy spells in October, or perhaps--as when the rains hold off quite late, as they did this fall--not till Nov., and gets fairly underway usually sometime in Dec., and ends generally in Feb. or March with occasional showers or rainy days, or perhaps even short rainy spells, later on.
    However, during what we may regard as the true rainy season--that is to say, December, January and February--there are are often two or three and sometimes even four or five weeks of continuous fine weather; and that, too, of the finest weather imaginable--clear blue skies, warm sun, and a few early wildflowers, brought forth by the mild weather, peeping above the ground. These spells of fine weather, occurring as they do in midwinter, and we have them almost every winter, are, in fact, the most charming and delightful part of the year. This beautiful weather, so often experienced here during the winter season, is, in fact, one of the chief things that weds all old residents so firmly to this coast.
    Indeed, some winters (the terms winter and rainy season are here interchangeable, the reader will remember) there is hardly any interruption to the plowing and other farm work, and there are really but few days during an ordinary winter that one cannot work with all convenience at outdoor work. It is true we occasionally have a severe winter, have snow and ice, which interfere for a time with certain kinds of work, as plowing and seeding; but, as a general thing, with the exception of some few days of continued heavy rain, the rainy season, or the winter--as you may please to term it--is here a busy season of outdoor work. We do not, of course, mind a little rain; and often even work between the showers of even a rainy day.
    So that we do not, here, in Southern Oregon, have to hibernate during the long months of a dismal rainy season, stowed away in some half-darkened and gloomy apartment, miserable beings, living a dreary life, for months at a time without one ray of sunshine or rational enjoyment of any kind.
    Nor do we for several consecutive months, while said rainy season lasts, have nothing to do but sit around the fire and crack stale jokes, or tell long endless stories about nothing, or perhaps, with more religious zeal, spend our time dissecting the characters of our neighbors.
    Nor can we, even if our tastes take a more literary turn, find excuse through abundance of rain to sit around for months at a time and read up in whatever subjects might interest us most. Nor are we compelled to spend so long a time reading in a listless sort of way whether we want to or not, simply because the weather will not give us opportunity to do anything else.
    We have not, I assure my dear reader, attempted here in Southern Oregon to vindicate Darwin by encouraging the development of webs between the phalanges of our pedal extremities, as ye desiccated Californian popularly supposes. That curious feature in the natural history of our species we have left to our more amphibious neighbors of the Willamette Valley to cultivate; and especially to the denizens of that delightful and aquatic region yclept the Long Tom, where, it is said, the good housewife may often be seen during the rainy season, bucket on arm, wading around the yard with a long pole hunting for the well.
    There, indeed, as we are assured on the testimony of those reliable persons, the early pioneers, the white people had no sooner begun to settle in the country than the boys and girls born therein began to develop the most singular and curious processes between the toes; which curious processes, strange to say, matured into the most complete and perfect web; whereby these people came to be called webfeet, a name by which the good people of this region, and, in fact, of the whole Willamette Valley have been distinguished ever since.
    No, indeed. To the gentle epithet of Tarhead, a name which the good people of the Willamette have seen fit to retort upon us, we will gracefully submit, but to be called Webfeet--never!
    But I do not wish, my dear friends, to accuse you of drawing so unfair a picture of us as this; but I did think some of you were under a little misapprehension in regard to the character of our rainy season.
    I do, indeed, take great pleasure in reading when a rainy day or a rainy spell occurs, and the state of my wardrobe is not such as to compel me to take cognizance of the more or less numerous infractions of integrity in those garments subjected most to daily wear, and to spend my time repairing these not infrequent rents and abrasions which various disaster and the constant and gradual wear through natural causes have occasioned and to which, I am sorry to say, said garments are only too prone to be subject.
    So much in explanation of the character of our rainy season. Now in regard to that part of Oregon in which I live.
    In order, however, that the reader may have a better understanding of the various localities of Oregon in general, and of my own neighborhood in particular, before proceeding to tell in what part of Oregon I live, I shall make some explanation in regard to the various localities first.
    When I was asked whether I lived east of the mountain range or between that and the coast, the writer had reference, of course, to the Cascade Range, as that is the chief mountain range in Oregon, and the one usually represented on the map, the summit of which is, in the main, parallel with, and distant from, the coast about 130 miles.
    There, is however, another great range in Oregon nearer the coast than the Cascade Range. This is the Coast Range, the western slopes of which extend quite to the ocean throughout almost the whole length of the state. There are nowhere any valleys--at least none of any great extent--between it and the sea. In fact, through almost the whole extent of Oregon, the coast is extremely rugged and mountainous, and is, in most places, quite uninhabitable. The very few settlements that are in that part of the state are mostly at the mouths of the rivers after these have, for the most part, broken through the mountains in deep and rugged canyons. The few exceptions to this I will explain further on.
    The great valleys of Oregon: namely, the Willamette, the Umpquas, and the Rogue River valleys, which contain within their limits by far the greatest part of the arable land within the borders of the state, lie between these two great mountain ranges.
    It will not be necessary for my present purpose to enter into any description of the great mountain ranges of the state. It will be necessary, however, to explain that there are, in Oregon, two systems of transverse ridges extending east and west across the country intervening between the two great ranges, and another like system of transverse ridges on the border of Oregon and California.
    The first of these transverse ridges, the Calapooia Mountains, separates the valley of the Umpqua from the Rogue River Valley; and the third, called the Siskiyou Mountains, is, as I said before, on the border of Oregon and California.
    Of these transverse ridges the Siskiyous are much the highest. Through the Calapooia Mountains there are three different roads, two of them being over the ridges, and one through by what is called the Pass Creek route where there is no ridge at all to be crossed. Through the Umpqua Mountains and the Rogue River Mountains, including what is called locally the Canyon, the Cow Creek Hills, and the Grave Creek Hills, there is only one wagon road, and only one is reasonably possible.
    Of the valleys named above, the Willamette Valley is much the largest, being about 50 by 150 miles in extent. It is here popularly called Webfoot, and the inhabitants thereof Webfeet--names suggested by the rainy character of that region.
    The Umpqua basin, called in a general way the Umpqua Valley, consists of a great number of small valleys separated from each ether by various ranges of hills, there being no one valley of any great extent. In these valleys, however, the soil is very fertile. The climate is delightful; and the whole country is a most beautiful and picturesque region--nearly a paradise, in fact.
    The Rogue River Valley differs again from either the Willamette or the Umpqua. While there are several smaller valleys, each having its local name, included in what is termed in a general way the Rogue River Valley, there is also one main valley which is more particularly spoken of as the Rogue River Valley, and which includes again some of these smaller valleys, but of whose separate existence apart from the main valley a stranger, looking out over this same main valley from any one of the many favorable points along the old stage road between Jacksonville and Willow Springs, which road here follows along the base of the foothills bordering the west side of the valley--would not have the least idea.
    Now, all that part of Oregon lying east of the Cascade Range is here called Eastern Oregon; that part lying west of the Cascade Range and north of the Calapooia Mountains is called Western Oregon; and that part west of the Cascade Range and south of the Calapooia Mountains is called Southern Oregon. Southern Oregon does not, the reader will take notice, include all the southern part of the state. Neither does Western Oregon include all the western part of the state; but Eastern Oregon does include all the eastern part of the state. Southeastern Oregon is a term by which the southern part of Eastern Oregon is sometimes designated. What I have said above in regard to the rainy season has no reference whatever to Eastern Oregon. Owing to the great elevation of that section above the sea, the winters there are iron bound. During the winter season there snow and ice reign supreme. The climate, however, is dry, braving and healthful. Even the beef there, owing to the very nutritious character of the grasses and the purity of the water, is of superior richness and flavor. These are not highly colored statements made for effect, remember; they are positive facts. The writer of this resided for a considerable period in Southeastern Oregon.
    The reader will also remember that in the country west of the Cascade Range the further north the more it rains and the longer the rainy season lasts. If the reader will now refer to a map of Oregon, he will see that, according to the definition given above, Jackson County is in Southern Oregon; and any late map will show that said county lies wholly west of the Cascade Range. Now, therefore, since I am a resident of Jackson County, I live in Southern Oregon and am west of the Cascade Range, but with a very big mountain range between me and the coast. The very few exceptions to the rugged and mountainous character of the coast region I will now proceed to explain.
    The chief exception to this mountainous character of the coast of Oregon is to be found in the county of Coos. This county is separated from Douglas County--which county includes all the Umpqua country-- by the Umpqua Mountains which here become part of the Coast Range. Here on the Coquille River and on Coos River, as well as on Coos Bay, is much level and very rich bottom land; bat the whole country is exceedingly heavily timbered. Indeed, so heavily timbered is the country here that the only means of communication between the different parts of the settlement is by boat. The timber is the finest in the world. It used to be said that when a hunter killed an elk in this region, he had to cut a way through the timber to get it out. The standing timber itself is not so much in the way as are the immense fallen logs. Another very serious matter is that during the winter pretty much all these bottom lands are overflowed, so that the settler must find some locality where he can build on the spurs or bench lands of the surrounding hills.
    On Smith River in Douglas County, a stream which flows into the Umpqua River after the latter has debouched from the mountains, there is also a considerable area of heavily timbered bottom land. Of the counties further north, there may be in Tillamook County some level land on the coast; but I have never been in that county and cannot speak from any personal knowledge concerning it.
    And now something in regard to my own immediate neighborhood and of certain parts of Jackson County and I will bring my communication to a close. I am living, then, I would explain, among the foothills (pretty big mountains, the folks in York County would think them, and very rough and rugged withal) in a well-watered district called Sykes Creek. This stream empties, two and one-half miles below my place, into Evans Creek, a considerable stream which receives several tributary streams in its course, and which, flowing in « southerly course, discharges its water into Rogue River at Woodville, twelve miles from my place. Across the hills west of me, about two miles, is another creek, called Pleasant Creek, which is a larger stream than Sykes Creek, and which also empties into Evans Creek. This also has a tributary stream called Ditch Creek flowing in from the west. Below the mouth of Pleasant Creek there is no stream flowing into Evans Creek large enough to be dignified by the name of creek. Over the ridge east of me there is another small mountain stream called Mays Creek, which also empties into Evans Creek. There is a good trail through a tolerably low gap in the hills to Pleasant Creek. On all these streams mentioned here as flowing into Evans Creek there is an abundance of the finest sugar pine and pitch or yellow pine, together with plenty of red fir and white fir; white cedar and yew also abound. There is also an abundance of black oak and some white oak. There are also many other trees, as the beautiful evergreen madrona, the maple, the ash, the alder, the cottonwood, live oak, chinquapin and dogwood, each useful in its way; but as those mentioned first are the most abundant, as well as the most useful, they are therefore the most important. There is certainly a fine opportunity for someone to do well with a portable steam sawmill.
    Owing to the fine grazing in many places on the hills through which these streams course, cattle raising is the most important industry here at present.
    Woodville, which I have spoken of above as being at the mouth of Evans Creek, is situated on the right bank of Rogue River eight miles below Gold Hill and nine miles above Grants Pass, each of which is a much larger place than Woodville. All three are stations on the railroad. Grants Pass and Gold Hill are new towns built since the advent of the railroad.
    The lower end of the main valley mentioned above is a mile or so above Gold Hill. From this latter place nearly to Grants Pass the valley is quite narrow. At no place is there more than one-half to three-fourths mile of level land intervening between the river and the hills. At some places in fact the hills come quite down to the river. It is a very picturesque region, however, the hills here presenting a pleasing variety in general contour, and being quite different from what they are in Pennsylvania. For the most part they are rough, rugged and steep, and not always covered with timber as they are at the East, characteristics which endear them very much to those of us living here who are lovers of the beautiful and picturesque in natural scenery. The scenery along this part of the river is to me always a feast to the eyes.
    Central Point and Medford are new and thriving towns on the railroad near the central part of the main valley spoken of above. The latter is at present the principal shipping point of the valley; and both are towns of considerable aspirations. Their central position in the valley, it must be admitted, is quite a feather in their caps.
    Still further up the valley, and also on the railroad, is the town of Phoenix, where some of the finest flour in Southern Oregon is made.
    At the upper (south) end of the valley, near the foot of the Siskiyou Mountains, and also on the railroad, is Ashland, the largest town in the valley, and, next to Roseburg, the county seat of Douglas County, the largest in Southern Oregon. Ashland boasts of an academy, a woolen mill, a flour mill and a foundry. The brand of flour made here has long enjoyed a high reputation. And now that the railroad officials have decided to locate here their roundhouse, machine shops and eating station, Ashland may be expected to take its place soon as one of the leading towns of the state.
    Nestled in a little cove at the base of the foothills on the west side of the valley, about four miles from Central Point and five or six from Medford, is the town of Jacksonville, the county seat of Jackson County, and next to Ashland, the largest town in Rogue River Valley. Jacksonville has a large steam flour mill that does its share of the local business. It has a courthouse of which many counties much wealthier than Jackson might well be proud. Its schools are among the best in the state. The view of the valley (the main Rogue River Valley mentioned above) from almost any point in and about Jacksonville is extremely fine. Indeed, the valley, as seen from Jacksonville, is as lovely a view as one might find in a lifetime of travel. It is worth not merely a visit to Jacksonville to see; it is worth a life in Jacksonville to enjoy. As seen from this place the valley is certainly among the fairest of the fair. If I were to make any prediction I would say that the generations to come in Jackson County will bless the day that secured to them so fair a county seat.
    In both Jacksonville and Ashland are many pleasant homes in which rare and beautiful flowers and choice shrubbery form a very pleasing feature.
    Eagle Point and Brownsboro are smaller towns--the former with a valuable water power and flour mill--situated in the eastern [sic] part of the valley. [It was common to assume Grants Pass was north of Medford.]
    Rock Point, a place hardly large enough to be called a village, but a place of considerable business, is pleasantly situated on Rogue River two miles below Gold Hill and six miles above Woodville, with a gravelly and almost entirely level road between the two latter places. In the old staging days, before the advent of the railroad, this place was one of the pleasantest on the road.
    Rock Point is fourteen miles from Jacksonville, Woodville is twenty miles; my place is therefore thirty-two miles from Jacksonville. I am also twenty-one miles from Grants Pass; since, to go to any one of the places mentioned above, it is necessary to by way of Woodville, the very high and steep ranges of hills on either side of the lower part of Evans Creek Valley entirely precluding all idea of a wagon road over them. Down the creek, however, to Woodville the road is almost level.
    There are good bridges over Rogue River at Rock Point, Gold Hill and Grants Pass. There is also the railroad bridge at Gold Hill. In the main valley there is also a fine bridge over Rogue River east of Jacksonville.
    Rogue River, I will here explain, is a beautiful stream, full of rocks and rapids in many parts of its course. During the summer it is fed by the melting snows of the Cascade Range, and its waters are then clear and cold. Fish, various members of the trout family, chiefly, abound. Sites for extensive water power may be found in many parts of its course. To the many interesting objects in the natural scenery of the river--as the Table Rocks, the beautiful and romantic Rogue River Falls, etc.--only a passing allusion can be made. A short distance above Gold Hill the river flows to the eastward, and the railroad towns spoken of above as being in the main valley are on Bear Creek; but, as I have intimated above, the eye would not distinguish any separate valley.
    Now, in all this region of Southern Oregon the possibilities of fruit raising are hardly to be overestimated. Especially in the foothills of Jackson and Josephine counties exist all the condition of soil and climate requisite for the production of the most perfect fruit. In the hills about Jacksonville, for miles along the western border of the valley, both the soil and the climatic conditions suited for the successful culture of the grape are said, by those well informed on the subject, to be the best known to the viticulturists (who have investigated the matter) of either Europe or America. This again is no mere boast, remember. The statement here made has its foundation in positive fact. The facts which are the basis of this statement, together with the explanation thereof, would be cheerfully and courteously furnished, I have no doubt, by either the Hon. Robt. A. Miller or Mr. Peter Britt, both citizens of Jacksonville, both practical vineyardists and cultural gentlemen, and whose reliability may be entirely depended on.
    In fact I confidently look forward to the time when all these hills near Jacksonville will be one continuous vineyard, supporting thousands of industrious families, and adding greatly to the wealth, not merely of Jackson County, but of the state itself.
    Along the South Umpqua, too, where the conditions of soil and climate are eminently suited for the production of choice fruit, the whole region, I am informed, is fast becoming one continuous prune orchard.
    In my own neighborhood there is a considerable area of land evidently well suited for the cultivation of the grape; and I am clearing up a homestead here with a view mainly to engaging in that industry myself. This land, I am told, is, in every respect, similar in character to the red hill lands of Sonoma County, Cal., so famous for its fruits and wine.
    And when we consider the vast market opening up for the sale of this fruit in the extensive territory north and east of us--where the rigors of a boreal climate will not permit the cultivation of the more delicate fruits--the outlook, it must be conceded, is encouraging indeed.
    We have also a number of mineral springs here which have attained much local celebrity as health resorts. Of these the old Soda Springs above Ashland have been long and favorably known and extensively patronized. The Shovel Creek Springs on the Siskiyous have been attracting much attention lately. And the Sulfur Springs on Evans Creek have acquired some celebrity for their good effects in kidney complaints. Fine opportunity for bathing is also one of the attractions at this place: Fishing is also good.
    Rock Point, also, might be made a very attractive resort for tourists from the East. The hotel here is quite a large and fine building for a country place and is a well-kept house. Rogue River, too, in this vicinity, is a noted resort for lovers of the art piscatorial; while the climate as well as the scenery are all that could be desired.
    The railroad mentioned in the several instances shove is the Oregon and California, which extends from Portland, Oregon, to Ashland. It was intended to connect at the state line with the California and Oregon road, to be built north from Sacramento, Cal. The O.&C. was completed to Roseburg, Ogn., in 1872. Work was suspended for want of funds, and the road finally passed into other hands. Work was also suspended on the C.&O. at Redding, Cal., distant from Roseburg 280 miles. In 1882 work was resumed on the O.&C. at Roseburg, and late in the fall of 1883 [sic] the road was completed as far as Ashland, when work was again suspended, the $4,000,000 borrowed to complete the road from Roseburg to the state line being about gone. Work had not as yet been resumed on the C.&O. at Redding. Sometime after these events the Southern Pacific, the big railroad company of California, became the owners of the C.&O., and set themselves to the very difficult task of completing the road. The same company have also leased the O.&C. and are now practically the owners of it also; and, before this comes to hand, the two roads will be connected at Ashland, and the first through train--to be a grand excursion--will have passed over the road. We will then begin to feel that we are about out of the woods at last.
    The whole Pacific Coast is rapidly filling up with population, and there will be in time an immense freight and passenger business over this road. It will be the main link connecting Portland [with] the towns and cities on Puget Sound, as also those of British Columbia with San Francisco, the metropolis of the Pacific Coast. There will be not alone the local traffic and travel between these points and San Francisco, but all passengers from the East over the Canadian Pacific, the Northern Pacific, or the Union Pacific by way of the Oregon Short Line, desiring to go to San Francisco, will pass over this road. A few, it is true, may go down by sea; but it is believed that most will prefer to go overland.
Woodville, Jackson Co., Dec. 10, 1887.
Oregon Sentinel, Jacksonville, December 22, 1887, page 1


    ED. STATESMAN:--Thinking perhaps a few words descriptive of the journey from Salem, Oregon, to Santa Barbara, Cal., would not be amiss, I take the liberty of writing this letter. From Salem to San Francisco there was nothing of special interest, if we except the stage ride from Ashland to Siskiyou, which is at the end of the thirteen-mile ride. The day before we crossed there had been a light fall of snow, and there was still some snow falling. The road is level and in very good condition for mountain road; nevertheless it takes five hours to make the thirteen miles. The reason it takes so long a time is because it is a gradual and oftentimes steep ascent the entire way, with the exception of a few hundred yards which are a plunge downward. The mountains were grand, with the dark evergreen trees hanging heavily laden with their soft, fleecy, clinging burdens of newly fallen snow. We were warm and comfortable inside the coaches, and I think I never saw a merrier or better-natured party than we were. Instead of its being a hardship to cross the mountains in the snow, I shall always remember it as one of the pleasantest rides I ever took. They did certainly have fine, strong, well-kept horses to draw us, and, as there were six horses to each coach, and although were packed in sardine-like (there being eighteen persons in and on each coach) yet we were jolly and every body seemed happy. We stopped at the Siskiyou House for dinner, and a wretched meal was served. Someone reading the sign over the door asked what the word Siskiyou meant, when someone else replied, thinking more of our indifferent dinner than the real interpretation of the word, that it was the Indian for bobtail. To this interpretation I believe everyone felt like giving a hearty Amen! But now we were soon in the cars, shot through a long tunnel, and riding through the wild winter scenery of the grand old mountains, prominent above which stands the Pilot Rock, which appears, stately, grand and majestic, first on one side of the car windows and then on the other as we wind in and out of the ravines.
    But by far the most inspiring sight in these majestic mountains is Mount Shasta, the grandly beautiful. Who can describe this hoary monarch of the mountains as he deserves, especially when just reclothed with the ermine of snow which the king of winter weaves and drapes about his mighty form? Words are powerless to tell how grandly beautiful and vast he seems as we draw nearer and nearer until we are within three miles of this king of mountains. It has been snowing until in the afternoon, and Shasta is recrowned by another and greater king than he--the king of the day. A purple cloud just crowned its highest peak, while all the body of the mountain was perfectly clear and bright with an indescribable glow of beauty. The rays of light shown through the cloud until it seemed that just hidden by the airy drapery of cloud-mist there must be a giant angel form pouring golden fire and rosy light upon the mountain top from from some shining censer, and it seemed to leap far down the mountainsides like streams of gold, and fill the deep ravines with purple and rose-colored light. Then, there seemed to be a strange and indescribable glow, that I had never seen before, as if that vast and awful pile was illuminated from within with wonderful many-colored lights. One can not imagine how grand great mountains are unless they are near them after the first fall of snow and view them in the brilliant sunset's glow. As we glided almost spirit-like past it all in warm and comfortable cars, I thought how different the picture must seem to us than what it did to those early pioneers who toiled and struggled over these rugged steeps and through these deep ravines. But I have dwelt so long upon the beauties of Mount Shasta that for fear I have wearied the reader beyond all patience I shall defer all attempts of a description of Los Angeles and the Eden of Santa Barbara until a future time.
Oregon Statesman, Salem, December 23, 1887, page 6