MOUNT HOOD 241 



great prophet because, high and lifted up above 

 her streets, stands this holy mountain whose very 

 shape is prophecy, whose radiance is the in- 

 dwelling light of all true art, and the very soul 

 of song? 



Portland is a beautiful city, but born of the 

 river. Young, strong, thriving, she is concerned 

 with sawmills and salmon now, not with the tints 

 on the snows of Hood, though they are often the 

 color of salmon and of richer gold than the heart 

 of pine. Young, eager, adventurous, she is bent 

 on prosperity. Nor does prosperity wait to be 

 won ; it comes pouring in upon her, 



From river and forest and orchard and ranch. 



It is hard to think of Portland without feeling 

 the singleness and intensity of her purpose to 

 grow great and rich, as it is hard to write of her 

 without changing from slow-footing prose to the 

 gallop of verse. The cities along the Atlantic are 

 full of rich men; but Portland is full of men 

 growing rich. One can sit on Council Crest and 

 see the process, as one can see nothing else, not 

 even Hood, so often is the mountain shrouded in 

 clouds and hid in the rain and mist. But where 



