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 Slavery Question in Oregon. 363 were wise enough to engage in no useless struggle, and no fuither protest was made. I left Kogue River on the first of June, and everywhere on my way north the signs of loyalty were visible. Disloyalty, whether much or little, was in hiding, and likely those affected dth it were never so numerous as noisy, and then gave no intimation of discontent. There was a Fourth of July celebration at Salem in 1861, and such a one as no American ever witnessed until then. The national anniversary, as we had known it, had but little ra- tional connection to the great events which it was intended to commemorate, but had grown to be a day for recreation and amusement; a time for thoughtless revelry and buffoonery. True, the reading of the Declaration was never omitted and there was an oration having some reference to our revolu- tionary history, but these performances had become per- functory, stale and unprofitable; a mere ceremony that the sooner past over, the less interference with the thoughtless wassail which reigned supreme. It was a rare occasion, indeed, when an orator of sufficient force and earnestness appeared to turn the attention of the people into serious and profitable channels. But in 1861 the crisis which had been long fore- boding and often postponed by compromise, had at last ar- rived, and the old time revelry was as inopportune as mirth at a funeral. The gloom was thick upon us and there was no thought of trifling. The people had gathered in from far and near, came in wagons and carriages with their families, on horseback, afoot, every one holding a flag as though it were the ark of his refuge, all moving in procession this time from a sense of duty, and as silent as Spartan soldiers going into battle. I viewed the procession from a balcony and as it passed, voiceless, solemn and stern, I could not repress the visions, w^hich rose on my sight, of carnage, of victories and defeats, but whether of ultimate triumph I could only hope and the uncertainty brought from my eyes unaccustomed torrents of tears.