THE STORM. 3g 
save a dim dark line bounding the horizon to the 
right, which lam told are mountains, from which 
all the wood used in the garrison is dragged by 
mules and ox-teams. I spend a delightful even- 
ing, and sleep at Captain Dent’s. 
June 9.—I am again en route for old Walla- 
walla, to catch the steamer. The stage has no 
other passenger. I can see by the black masses 
of cloud, rolling like huge waves one after ano- 
ther, that a storm of no trifling nature is about 
to break over us. It rapidly darkens, and the 
first flash of lightning hisses through the stage, 
followed instantly by a deafening peal of thunder ; 
the wind, as if suddenly let louse, rushes across 
the waste, carrying with it sand enough to bury 
one; flash follows flash so rapidly, that the dismal 
plain seems permanently lighted; the crashing 
thunder-claps completely overpower all other 
sounds, and the rain begins to pour down in a 
very deluge. 
The storm does not last long; but the driver, 
blinded by the sand, and the glare of the lightning, 
has missed his way, and we are clearly in the 
Walla-walla river. The stage fills rapidly. I 
dash open the door, determined, at least, to 
have a swim for my life; there is a terrible 
scrambling of the horses, accompanied with a 
