USA > Oregon > The Oregon native son, Vol. I > Part 50
Note: The text from this book was generated using artificial intelligence so there may be some errors. The full pages can be found on Archive.org (link on the Part 1 page).
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28 | Part 29 | Part 30 | Part 31 | Part 32 | Part 33 | Part 34 | Part 35 | Part 36 | Part 37 | Part 38 | Part 39 | Part 40 | Part 41 | Part 42 | Part 43 | Part 44 | Part 45 | Part 46 | Part 47 | Part 48 | Part 49 | Part 50 | Part 51 | Part 52 | Part 53 | Part 54 | Part 55 | Part 56 | Part 57 | Part 58 | Part 59 | Part 60 | Part 61 | Part 62 | Part 63 | Part 64 | Part 65 | Part 66 | Part 67 | Part 68 | Part 69 | Part 70 | Part 71 | Part 72 | Part 73 | Part 74 | Part 75 | Part 76 | Part 77 | Part 78 | Part 79 | Part 80 | Part 81
.
The last I heard they had a beautiful fruit plantation where they grew all sorts of fruits-oranges, figs-and Sa- mantha had six children. He is a good man and leads a good life and is an ex- ample of what a man can come to under good influences.
. John? Why he and Jerome had very fair luck and the boy went back down east. studied for the ministry, and has been preaching almost forty years. We all liked John and he liked us. I didn't know which he liked the best, but we all bid him good-bye together.
Jerome stayed longer than John did and was careful and well and always helped us keep accounts. Occasionally he said something about his wages for helping us so much. He used to go to the log meeting with me and watched to see if everybody treated me and the oth- er girls nice. We had made up our minds that he had left a girl behind him. as he had a daguerreotype of a good- looking lady. We got used to him, and he to us, but I had too much to do to fall in love. I left that till we got back to the Willamette. It was over a year that we were in Trinity; then my broth- er wrote us to come home. We began
to feel homesick a little and found that we had been doing an awful lot of hard work, all of us.
Then we closed out the hotel, and I remember we got ten cents for the tin cup we gave ten dollars for-and threw in the tin reflector that we gave fifty dol- lars for; but we didn't care. We had lots of gold dust to carry home and had lots more sent ahead, and my part, after paying pa and ma, and Dan, was as much as pa had made mining, but I had got over wanting it.
The last fuss we had was. as to how much-not how little-each should have of the common earnings. I said, If pa hadn't had the flour and bacon and beef, and ma hadn't helped, and Dan been a good boy, I shouldn't made much." While we were all of us insisting that the others should have more, in came Jerome-just like one of the family- and says he: "I'll have to settle this bus- iness, just as I have settled all the oth- ers." Ma was sitting on a lounge we had made and covered with calico, and that impudent fellow-right before pa and me-sat down and put his head in ma's lap, and says he: "Mrs. Blinder. tell me all about it." Just to think of it! Pa laughed and says, "Yes, ma, just explain this crisis to Jerome." For my part, I felt a little jealous, that, just as we were going away and he wasn't to see us any more, Jerome should be mak- ing up so to mother, and not caring for me -- even if he did have a girl's daguer- reotype along. So ma explained, and she kept her fingers playing in Jerome's hair just as I'd imagined I should do some time, if I ever had a sweetheart and he should put his head in my lap- and told him I didn't want any share of the gold. Pa, ma, and Dan thought as I had not been carried away by flattery nor deceived by false appearances, that I ought to have all I had earned. They were trying to figure out how much they would have had, had I not been along to work and manage. Then pa went on to say how well I had behaved; how pru- dent all the time under such difficulties: that after my doing so much and so well lie never could consent to keeping any of my money; that I ought to have
L
383
MELISSA-A TALE OF THE PIONEERS.
.
every dollar of it, because I was of age.
I remember I sat there crying a little, to hear pa talk so kindly. for I supposed all the time that he was too busy and hard at work to notice small things and my doings. I was positively teased when little Dan spoke up and said, all the time I had been as nice to him as if I hadn't been the hardest working girl in all California; and wound up: "You bet your life, pap, we don't want none of her money!" Dan was a little slangy and his grammar was rather poor, but he meant well.
Jerome said nothing until after ma had spoken-quiet like-that I was a good girl and they wanted to make me as happy as I was good. As if I hadn't always been a great deal happier than I deserved to be. Ma had such a nice way of saying things that she always put the finishing touch on to make matters as well as they could possibly be.
I felt hurt, though, when she leaned over Jerome-the impudent fellow-who was passing himself off as one of the family, like, and running her fingers through his curls, for the man had wavy hair-brown and glossy-and asked what did he think now. as the family adjuster? She had caught the phrase from an insurance agent. The lazy fel- low said he didn't see anything to quar- rel about or to worry over; then shut his eyes as if ma was mesmerizing him.
Then Jerome sat up, rather quick, and left ma's fingers out in the air. Says he, "What I'm thinking of. folks, is how I'm to get even on all the professional advice I've been giving you for the past vear. I've never told you. but I'm a lawyer and came to this country to prac- tice: but the country was too unsettled, so I came to Trinity till times should quiet down. All this time I have given you counsel and have charged up and held on here just because you folks need- ed me. I give you my word. I'd have gone away a year ago, when Jim Jones offered to buy me out. I've made mon- cy, of course"-then his voice toned down-"and have had a pretty good time, considering, but if it hadn't been for you I'd been in the practice of law down in Frisco, 'long with my old friend
and schoolmate, Charles Church., Now, lets turn the thing about. and you ad- vise me what I'm to do, and you going away to leave me and my advice? Where's my fee for all I've done?"
Dan laughed out and said: "That's jolly, anyhow!" Pa seemed plagued, and looked at Jerome, uncertain like, and Jerome looked him clear in the eye, and put his hand on pa's knee, as if to tell him he waited for an answer. Ma smiled as if she wasn't afraid-then I felt sure that she and Jerome had been co- leaguing a great many things. Says pa, "I guess we'd got along, Jerome, if you hadn't been here." Then I spoke up and said, "I guess so, too!"-and possibly my chin and nose went. up in the air a little as I said so.
Jerome-he looked at ma, then at me then he came and sat down by me, and in a pleasant voice told me, "How pretty you look when you are a little-pro- voked!" He offered to shake hands, but I drew my hands away. Then he asked "What am I to do, Melissa, when your mother and all of you go away, and I havn't and good boarding place?" He came near saying "Home."
There was a wicked smile when he hesitated and then said "good boarding- place." Ma laughed and said, "I thought Jerome was going to say "Home." Pa said, rather sad-like, "Well, we made him a home."
But F answered. as sharp as could be: "Oli, you wont suffer or be lonesome, so long as you have that daguerreotype to look at!"
Then he reached over and said- peaceable and slow-"That was my sis- ter. Melissa, and she is not living any- more!" This made me feel sorry that I had been spiteful. He had often told me of his sister who diedl. Then we all sat there as still as mice, thinking each for himself or herself.
Then Jerome turned to pa and says, "I'll tell you, 'Squire." he always called father 'Squire, "How I think every- thing can be arranged. I'm going to Frisco to open a law office, for I've sold my mines and sent my money down to Charley Church, my law partner, after every clean-up. He tells me he has
384
OREGON NATIVE SON.
bought lots on Montgomery, Sansome and Market streets, that are already ad- vanced in price. So I don't want your dust, but was to have some 'moveable property' to pay for my advice. Now, I do want something to remember you by, for I'll be lonesome, awhile, without you." Then looking around at us all of us-even little Dan-he went on: "I want something you may miss. but won't cost you anything-that I can al- ways take care of-a souvenir."
· Dan laughed . and, said: "That's too thin!" Dan was sharp, if he was but six- teen. Ma she drew a long breath that went back in a sigh-as if she felt re- lieved. Pa listened and looked plagued, but .. said: "There ain't most anything but what we'd be glad to give you, Jerome!"
Dan laughed again, but all he said was "That's too thin!" same as before. Thinking it was my time to speak, I quietly said, '"It lies. with me, I see; I make you the present, and welcome, though I'd thought I'd like to keep them to remember Trinity Bar with, as long as I live; and to remember Samanthy by, for her husband gave them to me."
Then pa laughed, ma took my hand and pressed. and Dan shouted. Then Jerome took my other hand, and said: "What do you think that I want, Me- lissa?" "Why," said I, "We've only one thing that can make a souvenir-unless we have our pictures taken -- and that is the great sea shells Samantha's husband gave me. They'll look well if you keep them polished and dustel occasionally."
Pa went off, coughing: ma found something to look after in the loading of the things. Dan he got up and left. I was about to go after them when Jerome drew me down.
"It's you I want. Melissa, and you can take care of those souvenirs yourself!"
I'd been so wrapped up in the idea of the daguerreotype that I couldn't im- agine Jerome as a sweetheart. It came to me, of a sudden, that it was his sister he had loved to look at. A thousand little things occured to me to prove that he had cared for me, and I for him.
Perhaps you'd like to know what I said, and what he said, but, positively. I
never could remember a word more- just at that particular time.
It made me feel foolish when pa and ma, after a while, came in and Dan went to poking fun at me. But we all laugh- ed and were as silly as could be. Even Jerome was sheepish, just a little, for the first time. The folks had it all fixed up that we should go home to the Willam- ette and get a good ready and be mar- ried in the winter-it was fall then-and get a good send-off in the best shape.
Talk, about the metamorphosis! Why the world had changed in half an hour so that I didn't know Trinity Center any more. The October sunshine was gold; the fir and pine trees on the moun- tains were beautiful; even the water rushing through the sluices and pouring from the hydrantraulics looked like gleams of hope, and the hundred growths along the poky old river had as many phases of beauty as the Garden of Eden did before Adam fell from grace- for it was Adam that fell that time- there!
I actually became fond of that daguer- reotype. My picture was taken and sent home to his folks. His mother called it "nice." Another sister said it was beau- tiful-but not very fashionably dressed. His younger brother said it was "stun- ning" -- probably because I stood by a sluice box. with a broad-brimmed hat on. and a shawl in my hand. Jerome said it was "Melissa," and that was all he wanted.
It had been a dull trip. coming down, though the world was all spring-time and beauty. It was tiresome at times, but going back we knew the way; the moutain sides wore the colors of au- tumn; the valleys were sober with mists and the ferns were brown as gold in the sun. Jerome got me a nice pony and side-saddle, and we rode and watched all the beautiful things God had made. that never had looked so beautiful before. Some day I may tell you more, but to- night I am tired-not so tired, however, that I cannot say that we watched the snow-peaks as they came in view -- Shasta, so wonderful; all so harmonious with the beauty that was all around; sit- ting aloft while forests of evergreen pine
385
UP-TO-DATE THEATRICALS.
surrounded them far below.
Then we came to the Willamette val- ley, traveling for days through a region that was wild and beautiful and far- spread. One evening we drove hard to reach a double log cabin where Bob was waiting for us-had waited for us more than a year-and then ma said, "Child- ren, we are all at home again-and we
will thank God for it!" Then father said, "Our Father," and we all accom- panied it with him. We thanked him for home. Jerome made another settlement of family differences by saying that so long as Melissa had him to depend on she had no use for the gold dug or earn- ed at Trinity Bar.
SAMUEL A. CLARKE.
UP TO DATE THEATRICALS. Season 1846.
Perhaps the efforts of pioneer days cannot be compared with the endeavors of the present in mimic art, still, it is doubtless a fact that those who appeared before the footlights in Oregon in 1846 were as proud of the talent displayed as the best actors of today are, and it is questionable if the pioneers were not as well pleased when the curtain saw its final fall, as the audiences who witness the many creditable plays billed to ap- pear from time to time in our leading theatres.
The first theatrical representations performed on the Pacific Coast were per- formed in Oregon early in 1846, on the British sloop-of-war, Modiste, anchored off Vancouver. While there the idea was conceived that her cabins would be a good place to erect a stage and therein produce a play. Captain Baillie, who was in command of the vessel, was agreeable and the other officers on board
were willing to lend a hand as 'partici- pants, and more than that, they had in hand several copies of different dramas. Soon after the suggestion was made the desired transformation was begun and finished. The seamen of the vessel hav- ing some artistic talent among them, there was no want of proper scenery.
After rehearsals enough to satisfy those taking part that they knew their lines, the public was duly notified that the first production would be given on February 3d of that year! It was enti- tled, "Three Weeks After Marriage," and was witnessed by nearly all the set- tlers anywhere within reach, and was so well received by them that the perform- ers succeeded their first effort with sev- eral others.
The Oregon Spectator of that date publishes accounts of the performances and speaks of them in highest terms of praise.
A pioneer lady recently visited the of- fice of the Native Son and made up her mind to test the genuineness of the edi- tor's claimed nativity, and satuted him with the expression, "kli-hi-um-six." As there was but two attaches of the maga- zine in the sanctum sanctorum at the time, and such not being as high up as the sixth floor, and knowing that she came up the elevator, she rather had the best of it for words. Not receiving a reply as soon as she possibly expected one, she then said. "nika wake cum- tux:" There being a familiar sound to those words, a Chinook dictionary close by was consulted and memory refreshed with result that if there were any of the
spirits of Indians floating around about, they could understand what was being said. On asking the caller where she became so proficient in the language spoken, she stated that not only herself but all her children living on Clatsop plains in 1848 and 1849, conversed al- together in that language, and only ab- andoned its use after being made to so by their parents.
The first jail built in Oregon was erected at Oregon City in 1844 out of funds from the estate of Ewing Young. It is said to have been burned by an in- cendiary in 1846.
T
THE PACIFIC NORTHWEST.
That the people of the United States are today the most advanced, the rich- est and most powerful nation of the earth, and that their progress from the stage of infancy to the position which they now occupy, has been more rapid than that of any nation of which history has pre- served the record, are facts which do not admit of question.
The cause of this rapid advance is not far to seek. The United States has, from the first, gathered to itself the ac- tive and enterprising of all nations, those who could not be content to end as they had begun, but were driven on- ward and upward by a laudable ambi- tion, not alone to better their own con- dition, but to start their children in the race of life, from a point far in advance of that from which they had themselves set out. This it is which has settled and developed a country larger than Europe within the years of an ordinary life, caused great cities to spring up as if by magic, built half the railroads of the world, and created in one genera- tion fortunes beside which the magic riches of the Arabian Nights sink into insignificance.
Onward to. better conditions, has been the watchword of the American people since the country was first settled, and no apology is necessary for at this time calling their attention to the Pacific Northwest. a section which being richer in the variety and abundance of its nat- ural resources, and having a better cli- mate than any other section of the Unit- ed States, is at the same time but sparse-
ly settled and developed, and offers a !! those opportunities for bettering one's condition, for the accumulation of a ior- tune, which are alone offered by a new country rich in natural resources and in process of development.
There are better farming lands in the Pacific Northwest than the great west of the Mississippi valley ever offered the settler. Here forests are greater than were ever to be found in Michigan or any state east of the Rocky moun- tains. Here mines comprise all the use- ful minerals and precious metals, and within its area is found the best climate in the United States, and as grand scen- ery as the world can boast.
The climate is the most favorable to agriculture of any known.
The winters are mild with abundant rains, and are never severe enough to kill tender fruits. With rare exceptions farm work may be carried on every month in the year.
There is very seldom a year when stock cannot run at large the winter through, and do as well as at any other season of the year. In the most severe winters it is necessary to feed but a short time.
The abundant rains of winter insure abundant crops in summer.
The harvest season is dry, and crops have never been destroyed by summer storms.
Blizzards and cyclones are unknown : and severe winter storms of any kind are very rare. the average being about once in ten years.
Early Steps of Justice .- The first term of the United States district court "in and for the county of Champoeg" was held at Salem. on Monday, August 13. 1849, Wni. P. Bryant. chief justice of the supreme court and judge of the first judical district was present. Isaac N. Gilbert was appointed clerk of the court. The grand jury was composed of the following citizens: L. N. English, John Ford. Cyrus Pitney, John Lemon, Wm. P. Pugh, David Presley, Wiley Chap-
man. A. R. Stanton, John D. Boon. L. Crump, John W. Zumwalt. A. Towner. Samuel Simmons, Win. Greenwood. Henry Smith, Hadley Hobson and Ed. Bellinger. The first case was an appeal from the docket of Rice Dunbar. who was probate judge and had held a term! of court on March 20. 1848. Among the indictments found was one that nearly every grand jury since has also brought in as a true bill, that of selling liquor to Indians.
3.86
INDIAN WAR RECOLLECTIONS.
Related by A. H. Sale, an Indian War Veteran, to H. S. Lyman.
(Concluded.)
In February, with Comrade Barker, I started back to the headquarters at Camp Cornelius, on Mill creek, near Walla Walla.
While at Salem, we had each been presented with a fine horse. Mine was from Colonel Nesmith, a Black Stran- ger, as that strain of horse was called. In presenting him, the Colonel said to me, alluding to my attempt to capture the Indian in the scrimmage on the Yak- ima, at the Two Buttes: "Here is a horse that could have run down that In- dian or any other," and he added, with a twinkle of fun, "if you needed you could run away, too." It was a large, powerful, coal-black animal, and full of nerve. Barker's also was a first-class horse.
We reached Fort Henrietta, on the Umatilla, without danger. The snow had just disappeared, and the grass was beginning to show green.
Just about as we arrived, Colonel Kelly, who was at Fort Henrietta, was wishing to go to Camp Cornelius, a dis- tance of about forty miles. With his party, making up a company of about seventeen. Barker and I started from the post, which was left in command, I think, of Vic Trevitt. At our first camp. twenty-two miles out, on Mckay creek, we got intimation of hostile Indians, who stampeded our horses.
Nothing gives men in a hostile In- dian country such a feeling of perfect helplessness as to lose their horses, and I felt the loss the more as among the stampeded stock was my beautiful Black Stranger.
Before making camp we had come upon Indian signs in the shape of the tracks of bare-footed horses printed plainly on the soft ground, and indicat- ing considerable numbers. Notwith- standing this indication, however, the order was given to picket the animals,
and, consequently, to the number . of about twenty-five, they were allowed to graze on the young grass of the meadow lands-all but one, which belonged to a man whose name I remember as Fuller. Making an excuse that his horse would go back to the Umatilla, Fuller got per- mission to tie him at the camp.
About the middle of the night I was awakened by hearing his horse snorting, and said to my comrade, Barker, that I thought there must be Indians around the camp. As quietly as possible we crept out to investigate, but had not gone far before we heard behind the camp the keen whistle of an Indian who had been placed there to watch; and at that signal the Indians in front, who had everything just ready, made their rush, stampeding the horses with perfect suc- cess, and leaving us dismounted.
Not knowing the number of the hos- tiles nor their intention, the next thing we had to look for was how to protect ourselves. After general counsel, it was decided to retire at once upon a steep hill near by, and with butcher knives and bavonets let each man dig a pit large enough to lie in concealed until morning; to set a lookout and to send Fuller back to Fort Henrietta for assist- ance. We were no long time entrench- ing ourselves, and lay in our burrows until morning.
We were naturally somewhat appre- hensive and nervous. Just about sun- rise, while I was on the outlook, I dis- covered the glint of arms far down the valley about in the direction where Fort Walla Walla, which had been captured, was burning. I supposed that this ad- . vancing column might be Indians, as we hardly looked for re-enforcements so soon. But to test the matter. we flung out a signal, and at the sight an answer- ing cheer came up from the advancing company, and we recognized our friends.
387
1
388
OREGON NATIVE SON.
The object of the Indians, who were Umatillas under Chief Stock Whitley, was to capture a supply train of ours which had started ahead of us, and which we expected to overtake that night, and they deprived us of our horses so that we could not assist the train. But they were disappointed and were kept off by the stout resistance of Corporal Chriss- well, to whose relief we arrived at an early hour.
My next escapade was in making a tour of observation to an Indian village some twenty miles below the mouth of the Palouse, on the Snake river.
I had been transferred to Company A, though still sergeant-major of the regiment, and was desired by Captain · Harding, in order to determine the strength of the Indian village, to take a scouting party of seven to ten men and make the reconnoisance.
I wished but two, and selected Ed. Cox and Billy Button. We made an examination of the place, finding a vil- lage of about a hundred and fifty lodges. but we were discovered before making our return. Near the foot of a long rocky canyon, around which the dis- tance was some four miles, though it was little over a quarter of a mile across, we were overtaken by the hos- tiles. "Boys." I said, "our only chance now is to run for camp."
It was a run of forty miles, but I thought that we could travel as least as fast as the Indians. The others struck spurs into their horses and galloped away. I was riding a mule, an old beast named John, that belonged to Jack Fields. I struck spurs into him, expect- ing to ride away with the rest, but John planted his feet and would not budge. The Indians were just behind and my only chance was to spring from the wretched beast and strike out for the canyon on foot. As I left the mule, my first impulse was to punish him by death, so that he would never get another man into such a trap. But, re- flecting that I might make better use of my ammunition. I left him unhurt standing gravely in the road. while I plunged among the large rocks of the
glen. Looking back, at length I saw that the Indians had overtaken the mule and one was already mounting into the saddle. I felt curious to see the result, and was rewarded by observing how John instantly hurled the dusky rider out of his seat high into the air and im- mediately began striking, kicking and biting so viciously as to thoroughly de- moralize the savages.
Taking advantage of the delay of the Indians on account of the mule, I hur- ried up the cliff, dodging out of sight, and left John to engage the enemy. Just as I arrived at the top of the bluff, which was a terrible place to climb, and emerged from the canyon, I was met by two men, galloping along, who had taken the detour around the head of the canyon, and who at the sight of me, whom they supposed to be lost, gave a loud cheer. I reminded them that the Indians were, no doubt, close behind, and urged them to hurry on, but Billy Button insisted upon dismounting and giving me his horse to ride until I re- covered from the exhaustion of my climb out of the canyon.
Need help finding more records? Try our genealogical records directory which has more than 1 million sources to help you more easily locate the available records.