THROUGH WONDERLAND. 
31 
encamp upon the crest of the mountain to witness the sunrise. Saddle horses 
are obtainable at the mission, and there is a good trail all the way. 
Thompson Falls, ioi miles west of Missoula, is the starting point for the 
Cceur d’Alene mines. The distress that followed the arrival in this district, in 
1883, of several thousand half-starving adventurers, who, expecting to pick up 
in a few hours’ time nuggets enough to make them rich for life, brought neither 
blankets to protect them from the cold of winter, nor the means, of returning to 
their far-distant homes, or even of reaching less remote centres where work 
could be obtained, gave the Cceur d’Alene mines a blow from which they were 
slow to recover. The development that has since taken place, especially since the 
introduction of hydraulics, has, however, abundantly demonstrated that former 
claims as to the richness and permanence of the mines were well founded, and we 
shall probably soon see here the richest placer mining camp in the world. 
The matchless river scenery that has done so much toward placing the 
Northern Pacific Railroad system in the proud position it occupies to-day at 
the head of the scenic railways of America, is not alone that of the peerless 
Columbia. For 140 miles of its course, in Western Montana and the Pan¬ 
handle of Idaho, it follows the windings of a stream that for grand and 
imposing scenery is second only to that renowned river itself. Should the 
traveler wake up in the morning, anywhere between the point at which the 
waters of the Missoula empty themselves into the bright green flood of the 
Pend d’Oreille river and the head of Pend d’Oreille Lake, he will almost 
certainly suppose that it is in the current of the far-famed Columbia that he 
sees reflected, perhaps hundreds of feet beneath him, the varying forms of 
those stately mountains that soar thousands of feet above. But he is as yet 
almost a day’s journey from the classic regions of the Columbia, albeit the 
lordly stream, whose scenery will be, hour after hour, a succession of surprises 
and delights to him, is one of the principal forks of that mighty river, whose 
still grander scenery it may be said to foreshadow in miniature. 
Between the Yellowstone National Park, on the one hand, and the Columbia 
river, on the other, Clark’s Fork and the beautiful lake into which it widens 
out before turning northward to the British possessions, have been almost com¬ 
pletely overshadowed. But their ten thousand beauties will assert themselves. 
They have not to be sought for in out-of-the-way places, nor are they so localized 
that a mere passing glimpse is the only reward of strained attention as the train 
flies onward. On the contrary, from an early hour in the morning until long 
past noon, there is a continuous unfolding of scenes in which are combined, with 
Nature’s inimitable skill and infinite variety, all that is grandest in mountain, 
all that is most graceful in woodland and stream. So evenly distributed are 
the beauties of this long stretch of river scenery, that it is not easy to single out 
particular points as calling for special notice. There are, however, two that 
must arrest the attention and command the admiration of every traveler. The 
first, one mile east of Cabinet, where the river, which has been flowing for some 
distance considerably below the level of the railroad, enters a magnificent 
