But to return to Fort Vancouver. We spent several days there very pleasantly, getting the bearings of things from there as a centre, and were loath to leave its hospitable quarters. It was now the first week in December; but the grapes were still hanging on the vines at Maj. N.'s quarters, and all about the post the grass was springing fresh and green, as in April in the East. We had fog or rain, or both together, about every day; no heavy down-pours, however, but gentle drizzles, as if the Oregon-Washington sky was only a great sieve, with perpetual water on 'tother side. They said, this was their usual weather from fall to spring, and then they had a delightful summer; though sometimes occasional snow-storms, sweeping down from the Mountains in January or February, gave them a taste of winter. Such snows, however, were light, and never lasted long. It seems, the Gulf Stream of the Pacific, sweeping up from the tropics, bears the isothermal lines so far north on this coast, that here at Fort Vancouver in the latitude of Montreal, they have the climate of the Carolinas in winter, with little of their excessive heats in summer. Walla-Walla, in latitude 46°, boasts the range of Washington, D. C. in 39°; and San Francisco, on the line of New York, claims the climate of Savannah. One evening while there, after a day of weary rain, the clouds suddenly broke away, and just at sunset we caught another noble view of Mount Hood again. A thin, veil-like cloud enrobed his feet, extending much of the way up; but above, his heaven-kissing head rose right regally, and his snowy crown became transfigured through all the changes--from pink to purple, and into night--as the day faded out. He looked still loftier and grander, than we had yet seen him, as if piercing the very sky, and was really superb. Aye, _superbus_. Haughty, imperial, supremely proud--which is about what the Romans meant, if I mistake not.