Late in the fall of 1843, information was received on the Wallamatte that the English barque Columbia was about to sail from Vancouver to the Sandwich Islands, and would take a certain number of passengers. Accordingly, Rev. Jason Lee, John Ricord, Esq., of New York, and myself and family, engaged passage. Mr. Ricord at three dollars per day, and the rest of us at two and a half each, the half dollar being deducted in consequence of our being missionaries. Mr. Lee and myself designed, after arriving in the Sandwich Islands, to take the first opportunity to proceed to the United States, but Mr. Ricord designed to remain at the Islands.

Having made the necessary arrangements, and put all our baggage into one of the company’s batteaux to take to the vessel, we took a small boat in tow, in which we intended to proceed from Vancouver down the Columbia. At dark we took leave of our friends, who stood on the banks of the river to witness our departure. There being a good moon, we did not apprehend much difficulty in running in the night, as we were well acquainted with the river, and we were willing to venture a little to get our baggage on board, before the vessel dropped down the Columbia. Proceeding on till a late hour at night, we lost ourselves in a dense fog, and supposing that by some unaccountable twist we had got turned about, and were going the wrong way, we resolved as soon as possible to make the shore. Finding, a place where we could fasten our boats we remained quiet until morning. At nine o’clock the fog had disappeared, and thereby disclosing the shores to our view, enabled us to ascertain our position. Moving forward, we labored hard with our oars during the day, and at dark came along side of the vessel which lay in the Columbia a short distance above the mouth of the Wallamette. Leaving all our baggage, except such as we should need on our trip down the Columbia, we passed on, and at nine in the evening arrived at Vancouver; but as the gates of the fort were closed, we were obliged to encamp on the beach for the night.

Having accomplished our businessman on the 6th we took our leave of our hospitable friends at Vancouver, but the tide being against us, we made slow headway. At seven o’clock, p. m., however, we came up with the ship, and being invited by Captain Humphries, we spent a comfortable night on board. Next morning proceeded on in our small boat, and as there was no wind to favor the ship, we soon left her behind. At two o’clock, p. m., passed the mouth of the Multnomah, and landed a short time at the point where, in 1835, Capt. Wyeth attempted to establish a trading post, but failed, as every other such attempt has done, from coming in contact with, and meeting the opposition of, the Hudson’s Bay Company. A little below this point we stopped to dine, on a fine gravelly beach, and while preparing our dinner, several canoes appeared below us, moving up the stream. Discovering our smoke, they made for the point, and on coming to the shore, we found in one of the canoes, Mr. W. W. Raymond and his family, who were on their way from Clatsop, at the mouth of the river, up to the Wallamette. Mr. Raymond was employed as a farmer at a mission station established on the Clatsop plains. With them we spent a pleasant hour, during which we regaled ourselves upon an unusual variety for such a time, our dinner consisting of beef, pork, potatoes, bread, butter, pie, cake, and raspberry preserves ; but we feasted with the expectation of suffering hunger before we arrived at Clatsop, if the winds and weather did not favor our progress. Taking leave of our friends, we departed from our delightful encampment, and with the tide in our favor, proceeded on our voyage. Night came on, and a dense fog rendered it difficult to run; nevertheless we concluded there could be little danger of our going wrong so long as we felt the force of the tide bearing us downward; but we soon found that we were missing our way, and running in behind an island, at the lower end of which a sand-bar had formed across the channel, on which the water was so shallow that we could not pass with our boat. Backing around, we rowed hard for an hour, when we found ourselves again at the head of the island. and by this time the darkness was somewhat dispelled by the rising moon, and we ventured to run on until midnight.

Mooring our boat in a little bay among the rocks, we clambered up on the side of a mountain, covered with a dense forest, where we spent the remainder of the night. Our place of encampment presented a striking contrast; to the one we had just left, being among the rugged and precipitous cliffs which overhung the river on the lefthand shore, and as everything around had been thoroughly soaked with rain we found it exceedingly difficult to light a fire.

But after burning my fingers to a blister, scorching my face, and singing off my eye-brows, by flashing powder, I at length accomplished my object, and our dreary encampment assumed a more cheering aspect.

On Saturday, the 8th, proceeded down as far as Oak Point, which is about thirty miles above Astoria, and encamped for the Sabbath under a precipice of rocks on the opposite side from the point. This precipice, which rises several hundred feet, is composed of different layer, or strata of irregular, massive amigdaloid and basalt, and, contrasted with the low flat shore on the opposite side, presents a very imposing appearance. Here, amidst the solitude of rocks, forest, and water, we experienced the truth that devotion is not confined to tie damask desks and cushioned seats of refined civilization, but cheers with her presence the lonely and wandering exile.

Monday, 9th. Ran down to Pillar Rock, fourteen miles above Astoria, where, being met by the flood-tide, we were obliged to camp. This rock is a great natural curiosity. It is a mighty column of basalt standing alone in the midst of the river, and though not more than fifteen or twenty feet in diameter at its base, it rises perpendicular on all sides to the height of more than one hundred feet. Remaining here over night, the next morning we crossed the river diagonally from Pillar Rock to Tongue Point, the distance of eleven miles, without serious accident, though the wind was high, and the boat took in considerable water. At twelve arrived at Astoria, where we met with a very cordial reception from Mr. Birney and his family, whose hospitalities we shared until the following day. This gentleman is an officer in the Hudson’s Way and one of its pioneers. In common with all English and Scotch magnates of the forest, he possesses disposition to entertain strangers, both with the comforts his house affords, and by narrating his different campaigns, trials, sufferings, contests with the Indians, and hair-breadth escapes.

This place is now called Fort George by the English, but doubtless will resume the name of Astoria when It is settled that the country belongs to the United States. In the afternoon of the 10th, Rev. J. L. Parrish, who is employed as a missionary among the Indians on the Clatsop Plains, came from Point Adams across the mouth of Young’s Bay in a canoe, and met us at the fort, designing to proceed up the river to visit some Indian clans in the vicinity of the Katlamette Islands ; but falling in with us, he resolved to return, and the next morning took us all in his large canoe safely to Point Adams, through the bay was quite rough from the effects of a strong east wind. From Point Adams south to a high promontory called Kilemook’s Head; the distance of twenty-five miles, is a broad sand beach, which at low-tide constitutes a splendid road.

On our landing on the point, an Indian was dispatched with a note to inform Mrs. Parrish of our arrival, and to procure a horse and cart to carry us and our baggage down the beach, the distance of seven miles, to their residence. At sunset our transportation was accomplished, and we found ourselves comfortably. situated with our kind friends, Mr. and Mrs. Parrish, on what is called the Clatsop Plains.

It is only necessary for one to walk up from tide water about one hundred feet to the top of the first ridge, to become convinced that these undullating plains have been formed by the constant accumulation of sands, deposited by the ceaseless action of the waves of the Pacific ocean. They are about twenty miles long, and from one to two and a half miles broad, and contain about forty square miles. There is a tract of timbered land lying between the prairie and Young’s Bay, containing twice the amount of land there is in the plains. The timber is of a very good quality, and comprises fir, spruce, pine, cedar, hemlock, and alder. There is little doubt but that all this tract of land, which now lies only a few feet above the level of the ocean, was once entirely submerged; that from Cape Disappointment to Kilemook Head, the distance of thirty miles, and from the present mouth of the Columbia to Tongue Point, the distance of fifteen miles, it was once a large bay, and that the level tract of country back of Point Adams, comprising Clatsop Plains, and the tract of woodland above mentioned, have been formed by the sand and various vegetable substances that, from time immemorial, have washed down the Columbia River, and have been deposited here by the continued action of the tide. The evidences of this are, first, the fact that the soil is of the same alluvial character that is found on the shores of the river above; and, second, there are several ridges, or undulations, which extend the entire length of the plains and curve precisely with the shore. and which all appear to have successively formed the boundary of the Pacific ocean. Some of these ridges appear in the woods, and large trees have grown on the top of them, which proves that this tract has been forming for hundreds of years. The soil, if we may judge from the immense growth of grass and weeds on the plains, is of a superior quality. The location is delightful, the scenery of ocean and mountain on a grand scale, and evidently this will be one of the most valuable portions of Oregon. At present, there are six American citizens settled on the plains, and as many more have taken claims.

On Thursday, the 21st, we received a not from Captain Humphries, informing us that the ship had arrived at Fort George; and taking leave of our friends on the Clatsop Plains, we proceeded up the beach towards the mouth of the Columbia.

On our way we fell in with a fin back whale that had been driven ashore by the fury of the south-west gales. Though this is a common occurrence, more or less being driven up every year, yet it is considered by the settlers and Indians on the plains, as a very lucky event. It is a rule among both classes, that when a whale is driven ashore, each one is entitled to all he can get. When we discovered the object, Mr. Lee, Mr. Ricord and myself, were in advance of the rest of the party, and in our rear were a number of Indians, who were going up to row us across Young’s Bay to Fort George, and Mr. Solomon Smith, an American who resides on the plains, and who had kindly taken Mrs. H. and the children into his cart to carry them up to point Adams. When Smith first discovered the object, he exclaimed, "Who knows but that Providence has sent me up out of the ocean fifty dollars? Yonder is something that looks like a whale." We were all speedily up with the object, Smith and the Indians manifesting as much joy at their good luck as a man would feel who had unexpectedly received an immense fortune; and they all seemed instantly to forget that they were going to assist us up to fort George. Smith having no other instrument than a jack knife, and fearing that the Indians who were just behind, would get more than he, left his horse and cart standing in the centre of the wide beach, sprang nimbly on to the carcase of the huge monster, and with his knife traced that portion of the animal to which he intended to lay claim. It was somewhat pleasing to observe that the Indians, in their selections, paid the utmost respect to the preemption right of Mr. Smith. Here was no jumping of claims, but as one after another arrived, all were satisfied to select from that part of the vast surface of the whale around which lines had not been run. We witnesses the dividing of the spoil a short time, and not being able to get either Smith or the Indians to proceed any farther till they had secured all the blubber, I took the cart in charge. At sundown we encamped on Point Adams, contenting ourselves with the idea that when the south-easter, which by this time began to rage, had abated, and the whale had all been removed from the beach by its despoilers, we should be able to cross Young’s Bay to fort George, where the barque Columbia lay at anchor. The storm continued until the 23d, when Mr. Parrish came up with a number of Indians and took us across the bay. We were entertained over the Sabbath in the house of Mr. Birney, where I preached the gospel to some twenty-five persons, embracing the crew of the barque, the passengers, and the residents of Fort George. On the 25th, we were required, by the Captain, to embark, but as the wind was contrary, we were obliged to remain until the 26th, when we weighed anchor and ran down to Baker’s Bay. This bay is the common anchorage for ships after coming into the river and before going out.

On leaving Fort George we were in hopes immediately to pass over the bar of the Columbia, but on arriving at Baker’s Bay the wind became adverse, and, with the prospect of a violent and tedious storm from the south and west, we came to anchor snug under Cape Disappointment, that we might be sheltered from the fury of winds and waves.

Though at present it is a most dreary and barbarous looking region around Baker’s Bay, yet, as Cape Disappointment must always be the guide of the mariner into the mouth of the river, and as the bay is the only safe anchorage, and vessels are always more or less detained in passing in and out, this must eventually become a place of considerable maritime importance. This is the only entrepot of the country, and consequently all supplies must pass either way through this channel. This river is the thoroughfare on which must be conveyed everything that goes to and from the interior, and, judging from the rapidity with which the country is filling up, the time is not far distant when steamboats will be flying up and down this river, as they are now seen on the Hudson and Mississippi. Three places offer facilities for the establishment of the grand depot for the country, which must be located somewhere near the mouth of the river. These are the shore of Baker’s Bay, back of Cape Disappointment, the east side of Point Adams, and old Astoria. One of these places may doubtless be contemplated as the location of some future splendid commercial city, say the New York of the West.

While in Baker’s Bay we experienced a very disagreeable detention of forty days, during which the storm from the south and west, continued to rage, with unceasing violence. Day after day Captain Humphries and myself would climb to the top of Cape Disappointment, and look off on the broad expanse of the Pacific, and contemplated the majesty of the ocean as she rolled her mountain billows, and dashed them successively against the base of the mighty rock on which we stood. The huge swell, rolling in from the south-west, would break with fearful grandeur the entire width of the channel across the bar of the Columbia, and the thick haze darkening the horizon corroborated the indications of the barometer, that the storm had not yet abated.

Occasionally, however, we were able to extend our walks along the shore north of the Cape, and view whatever of interest presented itself. Here is a cave extending into the rock one hundred and fifty feet, and containing the bones of animals, trunks of trees, and other substances, which the tide has there deposited. The country around presents an aspect wild beyond description.

On the morning of the 31st of January, the wind blew fair from the northwest, and having been detained already beyond all endurance, the Captain resolved to make an effort to get to sea, though from the top of the Cape the mountain swell could be seen breaking across the channel. Accordingly, we weighed anchor, and soon passed Cape Disappointment, and steered for the channel across the dreaded bar. The Captain took his position on the foretop, and had not proceeded more than one mile and a half before he was convinced that he was premature in leaving the bay, as the bar was still too rough to attempt to cross. The anchor was immediately let go, and the Captain determined to remain where he was for an hour, in hopes that the ebb tide would run down the high sea on the bar, so as to admit of our crossing in safety. Again the anchor was raised, and the Captain resumed his position on the foretop, but as we approached what are called the north breakers, he came running down with great perturbation, and informed us that the huge sea was still breaking entirely across the channel, and that there was no prospect, if we attempted to cross, of saving either the vessel or our lives.

To cast anchor where we were would be imminently dangerous, but there was no alternative, as it was impossible for us to get back into the bay. Accordingly, we hauled to, and dropt our anchor within a few cable’s length of the north sands. The wind was blowing a gale, and a tremendous swell came rolling over the sand bar, and threatened instantly to overwhelm us, while the vessel was tossed about with the greatest violence. As if to add terror to the gloomy prospect before us, night came on, and enveloped us in total darkness. Loud howled the wind, and the mighty breakers, rolling in majestic grandeur over the sand bar at the north of the channel, angrily shook their white locks around us during the whole night. If the vessel had dragged her anchor, or parted her cable, she must inevitably have been destroyed, and all on board have perished, as no small boat could have lived in that sea for a single moment.

In addition to the miseries of seasickness, during that dismal night, the horrors of shipwreck were vividly portrayed before us as we thought of the ship Isabelle, which was cast away upon a sand-bar but a short distance from our stern, of the William and Ann which was wrecked on the same bar in 1838, with twenty-six persons on board, not one of whom was left to describe the circumstances of the lamentable catastrophe; and of the United States’ ship Peacock, which was lost on the north sand-bar, but a little distance from where we lay. But an ever watchful Providence interposed in our behalf; the wind lulled about daylight, and hauled around a few points; the sea became measurably pacified, and at sunrise we stood back for Baker’s Bay, where we again let go our anchor, to await a more propitious time to make our exit.

We had not to wait long, for on the 3d day of February, the mouth of the river being exceedingly smooth, and the wind from the north-east, Captain Humphries and myself went once more to the top of Cape Disappointment to take a view of the fearful bar, and pronouncing it passable, at one o’clock, we weighed anchor, and spreading our sails to the breeze, passed beautifully and majestically over the spot where two days before our gallant barque would have been driven to the bottom by one break of the rolling surge.

A voyage of twenty-four days, during which we experienced a succession of violent gales unusual on this part of the ocean, brought us in sight of the island of Mauie, which we first saw forty miles distant at two, p. m., of the 20th of February. At five we made the island of Oahu, and though during the day we had been sailing before a reefed topsail breeze, when we came up with the north end of the island, the wind suddenly fell, and we found ourselves plunging and rolling over an exceedingly heavy swell occasioned by a strong south wind, which for some time had prevailed in the vicinity of the islands. During the night we were drifted some distance towards the island of Oahu and began to fear lest we might be driven ashore, and the absence of wind prove more destructive than the gales we had experienced. In the morning, however, the regular trade set in, and as it was a fair wind, we were carried quickly past Diamond Hill, when the city of Honolulu presented itself to our view. A white flag was raised to the top of the mast to announce that no epidemic prevailed among us, and soon after, we were boarded by an old pilot, who, taking the ship in charge, conducted us along the narrow zig-zag channel leading through the Coral Reef which, with this exception, surrounds the island of Oahu, and bringing the vessel up within a few rods of land, gave orders to "let go the anchor."

We found a variety of shipping in the harbor, American, English, French, Spanish, and some others.

The Dublin line of battle ship lay in the roads the night previous to our arrival, but so violent was the motion of the vessel in consequence of the tremendous swell that rolled in from the south, that she parted both her cables, and it was with the utmost difficulty that she was prevented from driving on the coral reef. A timely breeze enabled her to remove from her dangerous proximity to land, and after laying off and on until the swell subsided, she finally came again to anchor in her former position. The Dublin was the flag ship of a small English fleet under the command of Rear Admiral Thomas, the hero of the Chinese war, who had been sent from China by the British government to settle the difficulties occasioned by the outrageous conduct of Lord George Paulet in capturing the Sandwich Islands, and to restore them back to his Hawaiian majesty.

Soon after we came to anchor, Dr. J. L. Babcock, of the Oregon mission, who had been on the island for some months with his family, for the benefit of their health, came on board, and invited us ashore. They were stopping at the house of John Colcord, where, for the time being, we also took up our abode.

Immediately after landing, we learned from Dr. Babcock that news had arrived from the islands that Rev. George Gary had been appointed to supersede Rev. Jason Lee in the superintendency of the Oregon Mission, and was, expected at the islands on his way to Oregon, in a few weeks. This information caused us to hesitate whether to proceed, if we had an opportunity, or remain until Mr. Gary’s arrival. Inquiring whether there would be any opportunity soon to take passage to the States, we ascertained that, in all probability, no vessel would leave the islands for that destination under several months; but that a small schooner belonging to the Hawaiian Government, called the "Hoa "Tita," would sail the next day for Mazatlan, on the coast of Mexico. Mr. Lee and myself proceeded directly to the consul to ascertain whether it would be possible to procure a passage to the coast, but found that one only could be accommodated on the small craft, and that it would not be practicable to take a family across the continent. Thus baffled in our purposes to proceed together to the United States, we held a council in which Dr. Babcock participated, and came to the conclusion that; under the circumstances it was our duty to separate; Mr. Lee to take the "Hoa Tita" to Mazatlan, thence take the route through Mexico to Vera Cruz, and thence to New York, and myself and family to take the brig Chenamus, which would be ready to sail in a few weeks, and return to Oregon.

With reference to Mr. Lee, no time was to be lost in preparing for his embarkation, but with the assistance of the acting consul, Wm. Hooper, Esq., and Mr. Ladd, everything was soon made ready. Now came one of the severe trials of missionary life. Mr. Lee had buried his second wife in Oregon, and was left with a tender infant, a little girl of three weeks old. Mrs. Hines received the child from the bed of death to take care of it so long as Mr. Lee should desire, and after the burial of its mother he also came to reside in our family. Mr. Lee looked upon this his only child, as his earthly all, and no personal consideration would have induced him to leave her in the care of others, on an island in the Pacific ocean, and perform a hazardous journey to the other side of the globe, with but little prospect of ever again beholding his beloved daughter.

But with a heart as affectionate as ever beat in the breast of a man, Mr. Lee never allowed his personal feelings to control his conduct, when they opposed themselves to the calls of duty. In his opinion it was the voice of duty that called him to tear himself away from all he held dear upon the earth and return to his native land. Accordingly, at three o’clock, p. m., of the 28th of February, after tenderly committing his mother-less child to the care of the writer and his companion, he was conducted to the "Hoa Tita," which lay at the wharf, and when with a fair wind, was soon wafted from the shoes of Oahu towards the Mexican coast.

On the 2d day of March, Rear Admiral Thomas, having accomplished his mission to the Hawaiians to the entire satisfaction of both natives and foreigners, took his leave of Oahu, and amidst the roar of cannon which saluted him from the fort and from the ships of war in the harbor, he steered his course for the Society Islands. The following day his majesty Kamahamaha III, arrived at Honolulu from Maui, where he has resided for some time.

Though it was the Sabbath, yet he was saluted with many guns as his crown flag was seen flying at the entrance of the harbor. He is now to take up his residence in the city of Honolulu.

In the evening of the 7th of March, the bells of the churches and of the ships in the harbor, rung an alarm, and the whole city seemed at once in an uproar. The cry of fire was heard in every direction, and as no fire could be seen from where we were, I concluded that it must be in some ship in the harbor. I accordingly ran down to the wharf, and found that the brig Chenamus was indeed on fire in her hold, and no one could tell to what extent. A report was at once circulated that she had on board a vast quantity of powder, some said three hundred barrels. This alarmed many exceedingly, and but few would go down to the wharf for fear the vessel would blow up immediately. The utmost confusion and disorder prevailed until Captain Couch, who was absent from the ship when the fire was first discovered, arrived. He immediately corrected the mistake in reference to the amount of powder, and also informed the people concerning the probable position of the fire which he supposed to be in the lower hold forward of the main-mast, and as the powder was in the after run, the danger was not so imminent as had been supposed. The fire, however, had so far progressed that it was considered exceedingly dangerous to take off the hatches for fear it would break forth, and destroy not only the ship itself, but also the other ships lying near. The hatches had become hot, and the quarter-deck, as far back as the companion-way, was too warm to stand upon, when the captain gave orders to scuttle her. Three holes were accordingly made in her hull, and when the captain left her deck there were already several feet of water in her hold. She continued filling and sinking until morning, when her upper deck was level with the water. Soon after daylight divers were procured to go down and stop up the scuttle holes, and cork up the cabin windows, to prepare for pumping her out. Thirty-six hours’ labor of fifty men, sufficed to get the water all out, and as soon as possible the cargo was on the wharf, when it was ascertained that the ship had received but little or no damage from the fire, and but a small portion of the cargo had been injured except by the water. The fire had been principally confined to some fanning-mills, which were stored under the main hatchway. On the Monday following, the damaged goods were sold at auction for the benefit of the underwriters, and the captain went about repairing his vessel in order to proceed on his voyage to the Columbia River. The Chenamus is a fine brig, built expressly for the Pacific trade, and owned by Captain Cushing, the father of the Hon. Caleb Cushing, the present minister from the United States to China. He has established a commercial house in Oregon, and carries on an extensive trade with the settlers in that new and rising country.

In consequence of the unfortunate accident to the Chenamus, we were detained for five weeks, during which we had an opportunity of extending our observations on the missions, government, commerce, &c. of the Sandwich Islands.