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as if by spell of genius 'tis—the genius of enterprise, in dustry, and skill. Each revolving year will bring her thou sands on the wings of hope, to add their portions of divided toil, and reap the benefits of our temperate clime and virgin soil. Methinks I see the present starting band of hardy pio neers, the sister band, of that which last arrived, on tiptoe, watching to move at the command. On, on they come, and each year echoes still, they come! Then will the glassy sur face of thy basaltic barrier'd stream, O, proud Columbia, which now rolls at my feet, with naught to stud thy bosom but the rude canoe, be fretted and chafed with mimic surf, by the sailless and majestic monuments of Fulton—then will thy old companions, the lofty and gigantic pines, fall victims to the demand of that leviathan, steam; and where now one solitary craft is anchored seen, the towering masts of hundreds will appear, bringing the treasures and luxuries of the Pacific, and receiving, in return, the more solid and use ful surplus of Oregon's multifarious productions. Thy shores, so uninviting at this moment, will then be wharfed and warehoused along their margins, and strong built forts will frown from thy o'erhanging crags—thy embouchure, with bar so dangerous to the stranger, will cause no longer fear or dread, for watchful pilots, with experienced knowledge, will steer each bark to port, safe from the rocks, the shoals, the waves and wind. Thy noble name till now almost un known, will pass from hence to the Polynesian isles, from isles to Indus, China and Japan, as an ample depot of de sired stores—a refitting port of the North Pacific, and where resides that enterprising band who crossed the mountain barrier from the east. Yes, Oregon, thou once despised land of crags and peaks! soon shall thy vales be blazoned to the world, as richer than those climes where mines abound; thy treasures grain, more precious far, than pearls or gems from famed Golconda's depths—for, where pale famine holds her melancholy court, or golden lanas yield no amount of food, the balance of exchange will in thy favor be, as life to death. And though the hazy fog of moisture hangs darkening o'er