The first day of the winter months came with bright skies over the beautiful valleys of Oregon. Mounts Washington and Jefferson reared their vast pyramids of ice and {262} snow among the fresh green forests of the lower hills, and overlooked the Willamette, the lower Columbia, and the distant sea. The herds of California cattle were lowing on the meadows, and the flocks of sheep from the downs of England were scampering and bleating around their shepherds on the plain; and the plane of the carpenter, the adze of the cooper, the hammer of the tinman, and the anvil of the blacksmith within the pickets, were all awake when I arose to breakfast for the last time at Fort Vancouver. The beauty of the day, and the busy hum of life around me, accorded well with the feelings of joy with which I made preparations to return to my family and home. And yet when I met at the table Dr. McLaughlin, Mr. Douglas, and others with whom I had passed many pleasant hours, and from whom I had received many kindnesses, a sense of sorrow mingled strongly with the delight which the occasion naturally inspired. I was to leave Vancouver for the Sandwich Islands, and see them no more. I confess that it has seldom been my lot to feel so deeply pained at parting with those whom I had known so little time. But it became me to hasten {263} my departure; for the ship had dropped down to the mouth of the river, and awaited the arrival of Mr. Simpson, one of the company’s clerks,[81] Mr. Johnson, an American from St. Louis, and myself. While we are making the lower mouth of the Willamette, the reader will perhaps be amused with the sketch of life at Fort Vancouver. Fort Vancouver is, as has been already intimated, the depot at which are brought the furs collected west of the Rocky Mountains, and from which they are shipped to England; the place also at which all the goods for the trade are landed; and from which they are distributed to the various posts of that territory by vessels, bateaux, or pack animals, as the various routes permit. It was established by Governor Simpson, in 1824, as the great centre of all commercial operations in Oregon;[82] is situated in a beautiful plain on the north bank of the Columbia, ninety miles from the sea, in latitude 45½° north, and in longitude 122° west; and stands four hundred yards from the water side. The noble river before it is sixteen hundred and seventy yards wide, and from five to seven fathoms in depth; the whole surrounding country is covered with {264} forests of pine, cedar, and fir, &c., interspersed here and there with small open spots; all overlooked by the vast snowy pyramids of the President’s Range, thirty-five miles in the east.