USA > Oregon > The Oregon native son, Vol. I > Part 21
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The two companies got to the Big Meadows on the evening of the last day of General Lamerick's fight with the In- dians.
Here they were ordered, with some other companies, to build a stockade fort. which they proceeded to do by digging a trench and setting poles on end therein. The two companies before named, with a few men from a number of other com- panies, remained here for some time be- fore taking any active part in the cam- paign.
The fort was called Meadows Fort by the volunteers; in history, Fort Lamerick. During the stay here Lieutenants Cox and Riggs, with detachments from Keith's and Blakley's companies, were sent to Camas prairie to escort a pack- train, with supplies for the men.
On page 412 of Mrs. Victor's history there is an account, purporting to have been written by Captain Wallen, of some campaigning, in which Captain Blakley's company took rather an active part. though they are not mentioned at all.
The statement is made that on the 27th, the day on which Smith was at- tacked, "Wallen's command came upon a camp of the hostiles, which fled before him without firing a gun," etc. Having been along with the command, and a par- ticipant in the proceedings of the day. I will give a short account of the affair.
The Indian camp mentioned was on the south side of the river, and when it was found where they were, Major Massey or- dered Lieutenant Riggs to take a detach- ment of Captain Blakley's company and make a detour around and come in below the camp, while the main force should follow the trail (Captain Wallen com- manding), which passed through a low gap in the ridge, and come down oppo- site the camp. Lieutenant Riggs, on reaching his position, saw the Indians about their camp, some bathing in the river, utterly oblivious to any impending danger. . Imagine his surprise when, in- stead of seeing the command filing along the trail, he beheld it on a high bluff in full view of the camp, when the Indians disappeared as if by magic. I never could imagine why the troops were or- dered to take that course. It looked very much like it was done purposely to give the Indians a chance to escape. That cer- tainly was the outcome, at any rate.
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Further on, the historian says: "Two days later, on the 29th," the command was surprised while resting under some trees at the noon halt by some of John's hand, while retreating from the battle- field, and H. C. Huston, of Keith's com- pany, wounded. We were at the time of the attack about two miles below our camp on a point in a bend in the river, and had been there all the forenoon, and having found an Indian canoe there, Lieu- tenant Riggs was ordered across the river, with 20 of Blakley's company, to reconnoiter, and was over the ground from which the Indians fired on us. There were two decrepit old squaws sitting on the bank of the river, being the only In- dians seen at the time. Six of the men wandered off up the river, when the rest recrossed. About noon Lieutenant Riggs was again ordered to cross the river and travel up to and recross at the camp, and, while preparing to do so, the Indians fired on us, when the order
was countermanded, and Captain Nolan ordered over. They crossed the river be- low the enemy, and the six of Captain Blakley's company, hearing the firing, ran down from above, when the Indians doubtless thought they were being sur- rounded, and left the field.
Subsequently, Keith's and Blakley's companies went to the mouth of Rogue river, and there Lieutenant Riggs was sent to Port Orford to escort a packtrain after supplies for the command. As the In- dians were surrendering and the war was over, the two companies were ordered to Port Orford, and from there back to the Meadows and home.
Captain Blakley sent an express to in- form the citizens of Linn county that he would be at Brownsville, where the com- pany was enlisted, on the 4th of July, where we were met by our wives and chil- dren and friends, who had prepared a bountiful repast for us.
T. A. RIGGS.
WHAT BILLY HEARD AND SAW.
"Billy, I want you to dig some pota- freckled, sunburned face, his hair was light, straight and abundant. He had a large, frank smile, for his mouth could neither be called a "cupid's bow" or "rosebud." His teeth were full grown and wide apart, which latter indicates good nature rather than beauty. He was a typical native Oregon boy of pio- neer days, this little "man with the hoe," but his face was intelligent and he was a close observer of and took an interest in everything. He was only tolerably good; he would rob bird's nests; he despised to go to Sunday school, and ab- solutely refused to learn scriptural texts. He actually had a fight on his way home from Sunday school, too. He whipped a boy larger than himself for imposing tres," and Mrs. Dodson, Billy's mother, gave a vigorous final whisk to her broom as she swept the last speck of dust from the back steps that led into the kitchen door, and herself retired within that humble portal. It was a very warm day in August and Billy was disinclined to take any exercise whatever, but at his mother's bidding he took up his basket and shouldered his hoe and proceeded to the garden, or "truck patch," as it was called, where he found it warmer, if pos- sible, than at the house. Billy's appear- alive as he trudged along could not be valled dudish. He wore no coat, and one suspender was much shorter than the other, which gave his clothes a "hitched-up" appearance.' He had a upon a smaller boy. While I am sorry
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that Billy fought, I am glad that he whipped the other boy. Well, he went whistling along, with his battered hat set squarely o. his tow head, for Billy's hat, while not much for style, was never worn on one side. Say what you will to the contrary, there is character in the way boys, men, women or girls wear their hats. What untold possibilities cluster around a boy's hat. Possibilities and probabilities of the greatest import, the destinies of the future weal or woe of the world, hang upon the hats of boys like him.
Arrived at the garden, Billy set his basket down and dropped his hoe and stretched himself in the shade of a tree for a short rest before proceeding to at- tack the potato hills. There were all kinds of fine vegetables in the garden, and quite a number of weeds. as there is apt to be late in the season. Billy, know- ing that his father was in the habit of taking vegetables to the Oregon State Fair, looked around wondering how many premiums would be his this year, and just what particular vegetables would be put on exhibition. Growing near the fence were several hollyhocks and sun- flowers. What was his surprise to see a tall sunflower bowing and nodding in a most a: tonishing manner, while from its luminous face proceeded a queer voice. In perfectly awful astonishment he list- ened to these words from the sunflower: "Garden comrades. the hour has come for us to discuss the important positions some of us will no doubt occupy at the coming State Fair, and I hope that each of you will, in a calm, dignified and im- partial manner. discuss your respective claims to a premium. It is just barely possible that the general public will not agree with you, and it is almost abso- lutely certain that the committees will not: nevertheless. I should like some ex- pression from you, and I will also invite
some of the more thrifty weed's, as they are generally closely associated with us. to express themselves, for, believing, as we do, in the science of evolution, equal rights, and eternal progress, we extend the invitation to them; also, for it is quite probable that future generations will dis- cover their virtues and bring them before the public as benefactors of the race. We were all weeds once." At this speech there seemed to be a nodding of general approval from all the weeds and vegeta- bles. A casual observer would have thought a breath of air stirred them, but Billy knew there was no air stirring that hot August afternoon. All had given re- spectful attention to the remarks of the stately sunflower.
The first to speak was the corn, who had been listening with all its ears as it stalked along in dignified, soldierly rows and waving its silky hair, while one large stalk, said in a husky voice: "Many of us are of royal origin, being descended from King Philip. yet most of us can but claim Indian or gin, yet I shall be a-mazed if we don't secure premiums. We are better drilled than most of you, and by us men are warned not to get corned, for we not only grow in rows, but also on toes." At this poetic effusion the pop- corn went off into explosions of laughter. Billy looked at his own bare toes and thought, "That corn don't hit me." The sunflower called the popcorn to order. and then an Early York cabbage said: "We also boast of royal lineage. . We are of the house of York, and should be en- titled to premiums. Why," continued he. "there are cabbages with blue blood who are so genteel that -- that-" At this juncture some one interrupted him by saying "Jeminy krout!" so loud that the cabbages all heard it, and what do you think happened? Why, those poor, fool- ish Early York cabbages' heads actually burst open, and there were no brains in
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them, either. Billy got a never-to-be-for- gotten lesson from this experience. It is a dangerous thing to boast. But this in- vident, dreadful 's it was, did not put a top to the proceedings. Soon a tall, scedy specimen of the onion family had the floor (or ground, I suppose I should have said). He told them that onions were humble, meek and lowly, yet they boasted of great antiquity, having origin- ally come from India. Said he: "We are of the great Leek family, of which the Bible makes often and honorable mention. The Egyptians made use of us in religious worship, as we were part of the incense offered to their gods, and are probably the herb of 'sweet-smelling savor' of which sacred writers speak most respectfully. Of course, as a perfume we are not the modern 'fad,' but, neverthe- less, are entitled to honor, as we are strong in our way." He ceased speaking, and while there was a set expression on those onions, from the old maid radishes and many other vegetables the remarks of the onions drew tears. Billy did not feel surprised at this outburst of tears, for he could not even, ever so politely, assist an onion to remove his overcoat without weeping, and he didn't know of any one who could. As the onion referred to the Egyptian. the peas and beans rattled in their pods and the peas said: "We came from the south of Europe ages ago, and have been considered quite to the taste of the most aristocratic." "So you are," replied the beans; "but there were Greek philosophers who regarded us as soul- food for man." "Well." said the spinach, "please remember that the Egyptians and some other Greek philosophers con- demned you," and the spinach spun a long yarn of its own greater antiquity, and Persian origin. "Hum. that's noth- ing." said a clover who had somehow gotten into the garden. "I was indorsed by the howly Saint Patrick! and used by
him to explain the Trinity to his follow- ers." "Yes, but there is no good luck about you unless you have four leaves. and you seldom do," said the sage, who had come from the north of Europe and was exceedingly wise.
Now the gooseberry bush, who was soured and seemed inclined to scratch everybody, told them that as he had come from England he was entitled to great honor, but he only gave expression to mouldy sentiments and made a goose of himself, while . the blackcaps, native Americans that they were, doffed their caps in glee, and the blackberries laughed until they were black in the face, while a little currant bush in one corner remarked "We are current everywhere."
The asparagus sympathized with the gooseberry bush, and also claimed to have originally come from England, where he had adorned the wild seacoast region, and waved his handsome green plumes there long before the 'Roman con- quest, and he put on a lot of airs, and acted just like he had once known "what the wild waves were saying," but la! he didn't know any more about it than the others did.
Suddenly a tall, lank plant, who had the air of being on his own native heath, ' and who resembled Uncle Sam, remarked, "Some of us 'garden truck' have more influence in society than those who have traveled so far." "Yes. Mr. Tobacco Plant," you are about right." answered a hop vine, who was clinging to the garden fence. The hop vine, being in the habit of helping to get people in such a con- dition that they cannot stand without support, himself had to hold fast to the fence, or fall down. Then a grape vine, whose arms gracefully entwined a tree, said: "I claim that my productions have the honor of being more influential in so- ciety than everything else in this garden. and I'll get a first prize wherever I may
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be." "I would squash such sentiments if I could," said a large Hubbard squash. "That's right; let us knock such senti- ments into pre," and a Yankee pumpkin fairly beamed with pride. Of course, the Yankee pumpkin has authority with the great American public, and a voice ot thanksgiving arose, but the hope vine, and grape vine, and tobacco plant knew their own business, and understood their own mightiness, and could afford to keep silence. The pieplant divided the honors with the pumpkin, but said nothing. "We will go to the Oregon State Fair if we have to go as dead beats," said the beets; in a sweet tone; "but it 'beats all' how eas- ily we can be beat out when premiums are awarded."
At this juncture there were some very · sweeping assertions made by the broom- corn, and the cowhorn carrots were pos- itively "hcoky," while the cucumbers were creeping around and getting everybody into a pickle, and some mustard and the peppers were in a red-hot argument. But the smartweed knew more than botlı of them.
Some sweet balm, growing near the garden fence, tried to soothe them, but succeeded only tolerably well. "If we are to choke with thirst, I'd like to know of what use vou are?" said the artichoke to the watermelon. The influence of the muskmelons and mint, while silent, was very apparent by the rare fragrance that floated over the garden. "Let us go to the root of the matter," said the ruta- bagas. Here, the parsley, who is an ex- cellent grammarian, spoke, and related that he originally came from Egypt, and was especially honored by having been used for the garland for the brow of the Greek Hercules, the first garland of which mythology makes mention. At this state- ment a laurel tree just outside the gar- den wall rustled its leaves in fierce pro- test. The turnips turned up their noses at
the claims of the parsley. Now the sun- flower, who was presiding, said it would be in order for some one to make a mo- tion that all who desired should attend the State Fair and let their merit be de- cided by judges. This being done, the sunflower put the motion by saying, "All those who favor this motion will please vote yea." There was a very respectable vote. "All who are opposed, nay," said Mrs. Sunflower. I blush to tell it, but that horseradish actually neighed! As might have been expected, there was a grunt of disapproval from the pigweed, there was a growl from the dogweed, and a very modest little meow from the cat- nip, while the tomatoes were actually blushing scarlet over the audacity of the horseradish. No one could have an- swered for the consequences, if Dr. Cas- tor Bean had not "poured oil over the troubled waters"-the oil of severe, dig- nified reproof. The hollyhock, which al- ways minds its own business, and is a very sensible posy, said: "O silly weeds and foolish vegetables, why do you boast of ancestry and merit? You are just where the Great Gardener placed you. You all sprang from the same common soil. Most of you would amount to nothing if you did not affiliate with the common earth! And the more old garb- age and refuse there is about you, the bet- ter you seem to flourish; but be this said to your credit: While your roots strike deep into the dirt of earth, the pure air and golden sunshine call you upward, but you only attain perfection by commin- gling the higher, with the lower principle. Don't try to be clouds, stars, or sun- beams. Yours is a different sphere."
"It is time somebody moved an ad- journment," said a bunch of sweet thyme (time) just as soon as the hollyhock had ceased its wise admonition. And a cute little four-o'clock looked at its watch and said, "Not yet."
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The more pretentious flowers did not pay much attention to the vegetables, for they were so busy furnishing honey for the bees, making fragrance and adorn- ing all things with beauty that they really had no time for matters entirely outside of their own particular sphere. But there were a Few of the old-fashioned varieties who were not "too stuck up," as Billy said, to exchange friendly greetings with their more humble and useful neighbors. There were the dahlias, first cousins to the artichokes and potatoes; the sensible marigolds; the brilliant nasturtiums, at home anywhere; the sweetwilliams, who looked "too killing" at the dear, bright- faced pansies, whose thoughts needed no interpreter. The johnny-jump-ups were just as pert as they could be, jumping up in everybody's way, but they all bright- ened things up a bit by their brilliant col- ors and cheerful ways.
All of a sudden there was a queer voice coming out of the ground at Billy's feet, and the potatoes, who had hitherto kept silence, began to hustle each other in the hill and called out: "Let us out, bedad! let us out! You're not going to forget the best vegetable in the wurruld. Here we are crowded so's we can hardly breathe. Billy, me bye, it took an Irish- man to make our vartues known to the wurruld. If there's a pramium around we're afther it, shure; so we are." As this appeal struck Billy's ears a large grasshopper jumped right in his face. It startled him. He looked around. Had he been dreaming? Surely not. There were the vegetables, weeds and flowers. But somehow they seemed so quiet in the August sunshine that Billy suspected that he had had a curious dream. Just then Billy heard his mother's voice call- ing: "Billy, Billy! are you never coming with those potatoes for dinner?" "Yes. Les: I'll be there in a jiffy." answered Billy, and he made the hoe fly as he freed
the potatoes from their earthly prison and put them in his basket in a dazed sort of way. Billy could see a sort of intelli- gence that astonished him, as he looked into the queer little eyes of those potatoes, and he almost expected them to wink at him. He said to the potatoes: "You would look better if your faces were clean," but the potatoes never "wunk" an eye or spoke a word. When he handed. the basket to his mother, he said: "Moth- er, let's have mashed potatoes for dinner, and peel 'em deep, so's to be sure and dig the eyes all out." "For," thought Billy, "I'll never eat another potato cooked with its jacket on, as long as I live, 'cause it 'ud make me feel sort of skeery."
When Billy told his dream he said: "It might all have been a dream, but it don't seem like it. It set me thinking'. somehow, and I jess thought we eat all sorts of vegetables that come from all sorts of countries ; and if we grow on what we eat, we're liable to all sort of senti- ments. We can't all be jess one way; it ain't natural; we're kinder streaky in our make-ups." Billy was a pretty wide- awake boy to dream such a dream as that, and he had without suspecting it imbibed broader principles than he real- ized. Billy was wonderfully inspired to hoe in the garden after that, and he still persists that it is curious that a dream could have so much in it. His mother, to whom he confided, said: "O Billy. while we must not indulge in dreams all the time, even if they do enlarge the hor- izon of common, humdrum, every-day life in a wonderful and beautiful way, yet, if it were not for dreams life would become a worthless and wearisome thing."
Well, Billy went to the Fair, and when he looked at the vegetables, his eyes- his whole face-expressed unutterable things. He looked. seeing and under- standing things that the general public
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never even suspected. He knew what he knew, and how he knew it. He seemed especially interested by one large potato. The dark eyes of that potato met his own
blue, questioning ones frankly, but neither of them spoke. Whether they understood each other or not, is not for me to say. OLIVE S. ENGLAND.
ANNUAL ADDRESS AND REPORT OF GRAND PRESIDENT, JOHN C. LEASURE.
TO THE GRAND CABIN, NATIVE SONS OF OREGON, GRAND OFFICERS AND DELEGATES.
Words are inadequate to express my emotions on this auspicious occasion, the first session of the Grand Cabin of Native Sons of Oregon. Little did many of us think, when the small company of six native sons assembled at the Chamber of Commerce building in this city on July 5, 1898, and formed our temporary or- ganization, that in less than one year a · permanent grand jurisdiction would be established; that 18 chartered cabins would be instituted in the state, with an aggregate membership of about 1,100 loyal native sons; and that - representa- tives from these cabins would compose the first Grand Cabin; yet all of this has come to pass, and we are here today to gather new strength and energy from the successes of the closing year, for the work of the new year now breaking upon us.
My brothers, the work we have under- taken is a glorious one. Away back yon- der, in the dim, misty past, a little band of loyal men and women, led by the west- ern course of the Star of Empire, pene- trated the wilderness, and, moved by that indomitable will, courage and determina- tion characteristic of the Oregon pioneer, pressed onward over wild, trackless des- erts and mountains, beset with danger and death, through sickness, misery and want, until the ox teams' weary hoof.
after six months' long journey, stepped on Willamette's virgin soil, gilded by the western sun, and the careworn, weary pioneer builded his blazing campfire "where rolls the Oregon." From this sturdy stock arose the 33d star to settle in the azure field of our starry banner, first planted in the breezes of grand old Pacific by these loyal souls; thus be- queathing to us the happiness, peace and comforts enjoyed by us all. Their work is about finished. Their toil and hard- ships are almost at an end. They are fast passing away. Some are sleeping in ob- scure graves, unmarked and forgotten. Others, prominent in laying the founda- tion of this great state, are unnoticed in history, and no record is being preserved to perpetuate their memory. The land- marks of primeval Oregon, made by their hands, are being swiftly swept away by the consuming fire of remorseless time: and pioneer Oregon will soon be covered with the sediment of accumulated years, and will be lost save fragments thereof that may remain, wafted on the wings of romance and story. The records of those times and events can best be preserved by us. We, their posterity, must mark their graves, write their biography, print the history, preserve the landmarks and perpetuate their memories. This duty to each of us should not be onerous but
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glorious. As we loved and revered our ancestors, so should we honor and cher- ish their memories and their works. What Oregon is today, is of them. What we now enjoy, they gave. What we expect to achieve, they made possible; and to generation s yet unborn, we must leave, with our nustering out, the fires we may kindle around their sacred memories, glowing in that brightness and with that splendor that will light the past for the coming ages. Who can or will do this work but posterity? Who has that po- tentiality within that develops as duty demands? None but us. The germ of state pride; the love of state, her insti- tutions and her future, are best conserved by kindred and friends; and when the native element of this state will have be- come bound together in a common broth- erhood with the golden links of friend- ship, protection and charity, and the log cabin shall have been builded in every city, town and hamlet in our fair state, then and not till then can we rest assured that the duties we owe to our ancestors : the duties we owe to our state; the duties we owe to our institutions; the duties we owe to ourselves and to our posterity, will be performed. As we press forward in the performance of these duties, many of us will fall by the wayside in the fresh vigor of manhood, as did the honored pioneer; but there will follow others. quickly to take our places. Some will survive whose faces will be furrowed deep with life's stubborn cares. and the frosts of many winters will whiten their golden hair. But fall as we will, survive as we may, let us all press on in the performn- ance of duty, so that when the door of our cabin is closed, and death rules with- in, we may leave behind us a memory verdant as the spring-time, and as en- during and lasting as the environment that renders sacred the log cabin of our fathers.
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