The Weber Literary Journal tering the city of Portland. From Portland the road stretches over a fine pavement to beautiful Astoria, located at the mouth of the Columbia on the Pacific Ocean. To the onlooker there is something strangely fascinating about the rolling and roaring of the ocean waves, as they constantly hammer against the rocks and the shore, while to the swimmer there is nothing so exhilarating as to get out in the breakers and experience the power of the sea. After a few days of Astoria we left for other Northern cities. With hundreds of miles of the finest paved roads at our service we could not but go, go, go. To Snoqualmie Falls, Green River Gorge, through the greatest timber regions in the west, to British Columbia, Vancouver and the Canadian Rockies; to that quaint city, Victoria, and back down beautiful Puget Sound to Seattle, the Flower City. Most pleasurable of all, perhaps, is Mt. Rainier whose snow-capped peak rises abruptly from sea level over fourteen thousand feet. Its very vastness awes one, but that combined with its aerial grace and majesty presents a spectacle which holds one spell-bound. The Mt. Rainier National Park, famed for containing the most extensive glacial system in the world, not excepting those of Switzerland, is probably the most beautiful spot in the whole Northwest. The road leading to it passes through forests of great redwood trees impossibly tall, it seems, and with trunks so massive that occasionally driveways have been cut through them. The road ends at Paradise Inn where the great glaciers and the wild flowers meet. This hotel, located in the shadow of Mt. Rainier is the great summer resort of the Northwest, and is the scene of skiing tournaments and tobogganing during the hottest summer months. The Inn itself is covered with snow practically all summer. After leaving the park, many other points of interest were visited. In all of them we found that same beauty of nature characteristic of this country. The very names of the many little towns and the larger cities were significant of the natural beauty and harmony of the wild. Though our trip soon carried us to more Southern points we felt more and more impressed with the grandeur of the 10 The Weber Literary Journal Pacific Northwest. Something in nature is lacking from the scenery of other parts of the west, something that perhaps the rugged peaks or rushing streams of the North might, if they could, explain, for here was nature at its best. The Bedtime Caravan By Ruth Manning When the bedtime caravan starts out, For the trip up the long, dark, stair, Mabel an' me creep fearfully slow; We're afraid of the shadows there. In the big hall clock, standing tall and grim, Guarding the darkness deep, Lives a wee brown elf dressed in green doeskin, Who laughs as he watches us creep. But the caravan keeps steadily on, Till we reach the landing upstairs, And find that the gloomy spaces wide, Are the homes of the big, black, bears! Then Mabel, she screams, so I have to run Way up to the nursery where I keep my gun, But 'fore I can find it why the bears is all dead! So mother tucks Mabel an' me into bed. 11