Rogue River Valley is an intermediate link between the inland valleys lying east of and parallel with the Coast Range and extending from the Willamette on the north to the Sacramento on the south. Here is where the conflicting elements meet and compromise between the dreaded drought of the south and the excessive rains of the north. Here all extremes are amicably adjusted, and the result is no drought and no unusual rainfall. In addition to the rare climatic conditions with which this valley is specially favored, it is one of the most productive and healthful to be found on the coast, and withal a very gem cozily nestled in a richly variegated mountain setting. The valley is an irregular amphitheater about forty miles in length and twenty miles wide and is completely surrounded with lofty mountains. Sharp spurs, alternating with low hills, extend into it at intervals, and the whole is delicately touched and toned with striking diversity and mellowed by the pleasing light and shade peculiar to mountain scenery. It is truly a lovely valley, such as would delight the artist's heart and almost attune with poesy the most determined stoic. It is little wonder that the outraged Red Man, crowded to ocean's surf, with not a foot of land to call his own, fought and fell and died to save this, his goodly heritage, for surely there is none fairer on earth. The fabled vales of cashmere, with all their wealth of blooming flowers and perennial founts that fling their silvery spray amid a world of richest fragrance, could scarce excel the reality that here alternately delights and inspires the rapt beholder when first this valley greets his wondering gaze. What is now the valley was once a lake. The evidences of this fact are most unmistakable, and Rogue River was doubtless the stream that fed it. Sometime in the remote past it discharged its waters through what is now known as Sterling Creek. Applegate at that time was a large river, as is abundantly shown by the immense wash from the head of Sterling to its present junction with Rogue River. How long the waters of the lake were discharged through this channel, if at all, it would be impossible to tell; but from the deep wash in the solid bedrock for miles down the creek it would be safe to say centuries elapsed before this gorge was cut to its present depth. The mountains at the head of Sterling were probably much higher than now, and that there was no opening or low pass through which the waters of the lake were first charged, cutting the deep channel referred to above [sic]. Later, there must have been a great slide from some of the adjacent mountains, and the pass and river channel were filled up and the pent-up lake was forced to find an outlet elsewhere for its surplus water. This it did by cutting a pass through the mountains from Gold Hill to Grants Pass and thus finally flowing into the old channel where it now forms a junction with Applegate. This is bold speculation, but there is strong presumptive evidence to support it, and one gratifying feature about it is that it can be more readily believed than disproved.
Democratic Times, Jacksonville, February 3, 1893, page 2


    We make the following extracts from a private letter from Central Point, Jackson County, Oregon, dated March 2nd, giving some interesting facts regarding that country:
    "We are having delightful weather now, and gardens are being made and spring crops put in. We have not had near as much rain as usual this winter, so the mud is only hub deep instead of being clear over the wheels. While all those storms were raging in the north part of the state, and in the Willamette Valley, we had very good weather here.… Southern Oregon has got a boom this spring. Several rich ledges and pockets of gold have been discovered, some near here. A party of capitalists from Seattle are here, and have made arrangements to build a flume from near the headwaters of Rogue River to open up the vast forest of sugar pine up there. The shares have been sold, and our town being the terminus of the flume of course makes things lively. A bank will be established soon, and the Southern Pacific R.R. Company have contracted with a man hereto furnish him 1,000 tourists at $8 apiece, if he will put on a line of stages and run to Crater Lake, about 80 miles from here. He says he has ordered the coaches and necessary tents, etc., and will be ready for business in June. I only hope all this will materialize. The Rogue River Valley R.R. will be extended up the river also. They took a layoff not long ago, and swept the car out and gave it a coat of paint. The mail was carried to Medford in wagons, and the passengers walked down the railroad while all this was going on. Business was dull. The folks from the "states," as they say here, are not coming here by the hundreds, as they used to. They are wise, for when one has a good home there, they had better stay. When the climate and fruit is taken out, there is little here to induce one to stay.…
    "Eggs are low here now, only 12 cents per dozen; butter 20 cents, wheat from 40 to 52 cents per bushel, pork $6 per cwt., beef 10 cents per pound. Vegetables are plenty and prices reasonable. Apples are scarce and high, fish plenty at 5 cents per pound and sometimes cheaper than that. The canneries at the mouth of Rogue River were compelled to take out their nets this spring, so the run of fish is larger. There was nearly as many salmon canned at Gold Beach last year as there was on the Columbia."
Blue Valley Blade, Seward, Nebraska, March 15, 1893, page 3


    MR. EDITOR: Will you allow me to resume my "experiences," a bit of which I gave you some months ago? The last was of our district conference, in which allusion was made to the fact that in two or three counties, with an area nearly half as large as the whole state of Mississippi and a population of about 30,000 people, there was scarcely ever any preaching, and that most of this people is more approachable by us than by anybody else. Well, a month later I had opportunity to see much of this country.
    Just before noon on a Monday I got off the train about sixty miles south of Grants Pass, where I was met by one of our old pioneer preachers, Rev. R. C. Oglesby, and we started on a jaunt over the mountains. We, however, spent that morning and night only a few miles away, enjoying the luxury of Jackson County, Soda Springs, or one set of them, for within a few miles there are several clusters of them. Several times next morning we had a view of that wonder in engineering skill where the S.P.R.R. doubles upon itself no less than three times in crossing the Siskiyou Mountains. We had been told that in crossing the mountains you had to drive over rocks that were like sugar barrels thrown along the streets. Ofttimes it was even worse, for while one wheel is so low you fear falling down, there is danger of striking a rock with the upper wheel and throwing both buggy and riders far down the mountainside below. Of course, the rocks are fast to the earth; still occasionally we would meet persons driving one horse. How they got over these rough places I could not see, but they did it, and in some instances the drivers were women. Our first night out was quite oppressive, for the mountains to the north of us were on fire, and the smoke was quite oppressive. The second night we reached Klamath Falls on the Klamath River. There is a village of 600 to 800 inhabitants situated in as romantic a place as one will seldom find. There are two lakes, the upper about 8x35 miles in extent, upon which steamers run, the lower about 2 or 3x12 miles, and they are about one mile apart, with nearly 100 feet fall, giving a magnificent water power. On the west side the mountains come almost to the river, but east and south there are large scopes of sagebrush lands, and much of it is being brought into cultivation, and the people are beginning to avail themselves of the advantage of this great water advantage by taking out irrigating ditches, for it must be recollected there is not much rain in this portion of the state. It begins to snow in November and generally continues until March or April, when most of their "season" is gone. But the many mountain streams of pure limpid water make full amends for want of rain, for where there is any concert of action upon the part of the people they can soon irrigate all the land they want. True, early or tender vegetables do not flourish here, the altitude in the valleys being over 3,000 feet above sea level. Still the cereals and hardier fruits do well; but the chief business is stock raising, and it is surprising how stock thrives. There is a grass called "bunchgrass" grows thickly over mountain and plain, and it is as nourishing after it dries as when green, and stock seem to relish it as well. There is a large Indian reservation which comes to the upper lake in the east, and extends up Hood, Williamson and Sprague rivers to the north and east, which has a large lot of fine land, and there being less than 1,000 of these Indians, when they sell to the government and the land is thrown open there will be a rush for settlement.
    I noticed, as we were driving through some of these unsettled "prairies"--as they call them--stakes set up along the road like I've seen in creek and river bottoms in the South. I asked what they were for. "To enable you to keep the road." "Why, the water does not get that high along here," said I, for I thought of some experiences in Big Black River bottom. "Oh, no, but the snow does." "What! as high as those stakes?" "Yes, the snow frequently gets six feet deep and sometimes deeper, and the mercury goes down to forty-two degrees below zero here on the plains and valleys." "Whew! how do you stand it?" "Our blood becomes thick and we do not mind it." We have two preachers in this vast region of country, and they tell me the best meetings they hold is in these coldest spells and when snow is deepest. They harness their sleighs and hurry to church, cover their horses and have their best times, for there is little to do and the nights are very light.
    We spent a week in and near Klamath, preaching at night and hunting and fishing during the day. We had a unique experience along the falls one morning. I feel sure we must have seen 1,000 snakes in two hours' time. They seemed to be everywhere and on everything. They were from the size of a thumb to half as large as a wrist. Fortunately they were harmless. One of our preachers told us he had seen fish so thick in one of the rivers there that you could back a large wagon into the stream and fill it with fish with a pitchfork in a few minutes; that actually they were wedged so close that their fins formed an almost solid surface above the water, and this when the river was up. It is during what they call the running season.
    We continued our trip eastward up the headwaters of Lost River, then across into Lake County on to Sprague River, where we also spent several days visiting, fishing, hunting and preaching. Returning down Sprague, we crossed the cascades at Crater Lake and down the romantic Rogue River, home. Much occurred and was seen on this latter trip worthy of note, but we cannot tell it now. Maybe we will do so before long.
Tangent, Oregon.
New Orleans Christian Advocate, April 27, 1893, page 2


Written for the Medford Mail.
    Leaving Talent on Friday morning, June 22nd, after the soaking rain the day before, we found the dust well laid and some puddles of water, but the weather was as clear and pleasant as we might ask. After procuring a 9x10-foot tent and complete supplies at Talent, Medford and Central Point while passing through these places, we lunched at the Central Point camp meeting grove, and camped and pitched our tent on the bank of Rogue River near the venerable Dr. Colvig's residence [in Rock Point]. The second night near Wilderville, the third near Waldo, the fourth, three miles beyond Patrick's Creek, and the fifth on the plaza in Crescent City. We found the Coast Range very hilly and but very little level land after crossing the Illinois River four miles beyond the mining town of Waldo, but the road is superb and an easy grade all the way, but the toll is $3 each way for a two-horse vehicle. We considered this cheap after learning the grading cost, at least $100,000. The toll gate is at Gasquet's ranch, 15 miles from Crescent City. We found the redwoods immense and the ocean more so. We found the citizens of the place and its suburbs clever--both whites and Indians. We camped five days on the bluff near Pebble Beach two miles southwest of the city. Leaving our goods in care of the Indians near by, we visited around daytimes and went home evenings. We visited the logging camps, saw mills and dairy ranches on Smith River to our heart's content and reached Talent on Thursday, July 6th. We had an enjoyable trip and cost, all told, $12.
Medford Mail, July 21, 1893, page 1


    The church at Ashland was well prepared to join in evangelistic efforts. The members had, under the direction of the pastor, visited from house to house extending invitations to attend the services. The earnest labor and genial manners of Rev. F. G. Strange secured for us the cooperation of the ministers and members of other churches; we believe great good was accomplished. This is one of the most flourishing churches in Southern Oregon, and we expect in another year it will reach self support.
    Of course, we cannot expect to prosecute such work without opposition. During our meetings the "Freethinkers" must introduce a special lecturer, who gave me a challenge to public debate, which I treated with silent contempt.
    From Ashland I went to Jacksonville, which bears the reputation of being the hardest city in Southern Oregon. Certainly the church here was weak--no midweek prayer meeting, no additions to membership by profession for two years, no Christian Endeavor Society, only a small Sabbath school, with not enough teachers to carry on the work; the minister utterly discouraged and could not be led to expect "any good thing to come out of Nazareth." Rev. F. G. Strange and Rev. A. S. Foster rendered valuable help in the services. In five days the church was quickened and seventeen persons inquiring the way to Zion.
Undated letter from Rev. F. H. Gwynne, D.D., The (Presbyterian) Church at Home and Abroad, August 1893, page 124