He became attached to his wife, and she reciprocated with equal depth of conjugality, and shaped her costume to meet his liking, yet Uncle Sam pried into their warm nestling by passing a law to either separate or marry according to his code. Of course, Anderson had to marry his wife the second time, which he did like a loyal citizen. He took his corpulent queen, placed her in the stern of the big canoe, and paddled to Seabold, where they were united in holy ties by Harry Shafer, Uncle Sam's matrimonial agent. Anderson bears the honor of being the first white man on Puget Sound concubined to a squaw in accordance with the laws of the United States. He was industrious and elevated compared with his station, turned a wooded bit of ground to a flowery garden, and in a corner, beneath a weedy sod, he rests unsung. PETER FRIBERG.--Peter Friberg, like Hood's Canal Anderson, has walked the highway of frontier trials. He was born in Sweden, but when a mere youth sought the waves. After years of trying experiences he found himself on Puget Sound, among the floating Flatheads, about the same time Anderson landed, but perchance drifted off with another flock of red skins, consequently the two contemporaries were ignorant of each others wanderings till later years, when they accidently met and shook hands. Peter Friberg also threw his heart to a squaw, and with her he barged along the shores making depredation on salmon and halibut, finally pinning his future to a happy point running into the bosom of the Sound, near Salmon Bay. MARTIN TOFTEZEN.--About two-and-forty years ago, a son of Norway anchored his canoe on the north side of Whidbey Island. His name has been pinned to its soil among the first on record. He was a pioneer of heart and courage--chivalrous Martin Toftezen. He had drifted around the Horn on a ship, and was tossed into the mouth of Puget Sound, where the breath of the deep calmed to a gentle zephyr, and the wings of speed flapped in disconsolation. The bark was dashed ashore by the angry billows, caused by the agitating tide, and Toftezen stood in a transport of mingled awe and perturbation. Nature was grand, enchantingly sang the ripples up the fascinating arm, and mad in grandeur reared the snow-capped peaks, flinging smiles of welcome. "Why reject the poetic landscape? Nature's sweetness will smite the blue forehead of dreary solitude." These thoughts rolled in his fancy, and up the Sound he paddled, and settled on the green tail, where he wore out his life. PETER ANDRIAS PETERSON.--No man on the Pacific coast ever endured more hardships than the personage in question--Peter Andrias Peterson--who, about a year ago fell prey to an incidental injury, and was carried over the stream for the unknown sea beyond.