The centennial history of Oregon, 1811-1912, Part 87

Author: Gaston, Joseph, 1833-
Publication date: 1912
Publisher: Chicago, The S.J. Clarke publishing company
Number of Pages: 1072

USA > Oregon > The centennial history of Oregon, 1811-1912 > Part 87

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).

It was the regret of my life up to the age of thirty-five years that I was not born a boy, for I realized early in life that a girl was hampered and hemmed in on all sides, simply by the accident of sex. Brother and I were always trying our muscular strength, and while in my thirteenth year I bet him I could carry four sacks of flour, two hun- dred pounds. We placed two sacks on a table and two on a box and I stood between. Brother placed a sack on each of my should- ers and then I managed to get the remain- ing sacks, one under each arm. Then while be steadied the two on my shoulders. I walked off triumphantly with the four sacks.

In the year 1847, after the Whitman mas- sacre, my father was preparing to go with the Clatsop volunteers to fight the Indians. When all was ready and father stood in the midst of his weeping wife and children, a, Mr. McDonald, who was working for father, stepped forward and said, "Mr. Owens, I am a simple man! I have no one to care for me but I am poor. Give me your outfit and money for my expenses and I will go in your place." Yielding at last to the entreaties of his family, father finally consented and Mr. McDonald went in his place, but he never returned. He was killed. We have always remembered him gratefully,

B. A. Owens-Adair

583

THE CENTENNIAL HISTORY OF OREGON

believing he might have saved our father's life. At least he gave his own freely.

I was the family nurse and it was seldom I did not have a child in my arms and more clinging to me, when there was a baby every two years. There was no end to nursing, especially when mother's time was occupied from early dawn till late at night with in- side and outside work, she seldom had time to devote to baby except to give it the breast. When the weather was fine we fairly lived outdoors, I hauling baby in its rude little sled or cart, which bumped along and often bumped baby out but which sel- dom seriously hurt and never killed. With a two-year-old on my hip and a four-year- old clinging to me to keep up or more often on brother Flem's back we went play- ing here and working there during all the pleasant weather. When it rained we ran to the barn where we could swing, play hide- and-seek and slide down the hay mow. Many times I have carried the children to the top and with baby in my arms and the other two clinging to me we would slide to the bottom, to the great delight of all.

I was fond of hunting hens' nests and usually found them. One afternoon I crawled under the barn. I knew there were eggs there. The ground was hard and smooth, and near the barn floor, about the center, I found a nest full of eggs. I squeezed under so I could reach and gather them in my apron. I could not turn around so I began to slide out backwards, when passing a sleeper a knot caught between the waist- band of my dress and the first button. Try as best I might I could not get loose. Brother was waiting outside and when he found I could not extricate myself he ran for mother. Father was away from home and mother knew the only way to release me was to break the button hole. Lying there on my face, wedged in, I could not reach the button or break the button hole. The big barn was full of hay which would have taken several men at least a day or more to get down to the middle of the barn and to have tunnelled under would have taken as much time. Mother told me to push myself forwards, sideways and back- wards, with all my force. After a long time I succeeded in tearing out the buttonhole. As soon as I got clear of the sleeper I reached back and unbuttoned all my but- tons to make sure I did not get hung up again. Now being free, I soon backed out to freedom, bringing my eggs with me. That was not the last time I crawled under the barn for eggs; but, I had learned a lesson and I never went into a tight place like that again without preparing myself to leave all my clothes behind, in case I got hung up on a knot or peg.

When I was twelve years old, a teacher came to teach a three months school for our neighborhood. His name was Beaufort. School-books were very scarce. Sometimes whole familes were taught from one book. All children over four attended school. Chil- dren did not remain babies long in those days, when other children came so fast to Vol. IV-24

crowd them out of the cradle. Boys and girls of fourteen and fifteen were expected to do a full day's work on the farm or in the house, and the younger ones were taught to be helpful and to take care of themselves. The teacher was a fine, handsome young man. He kept himself clean and neat and trim and did not seek the company of the young men of his age, and they naturally disliked him. He boarded at our house and we children walked two miles to school with him daily. He was very kind to the chil- dren and they were all very fond of him. He would often take two or three little tots or as many as could hold on to him and then run races with the larger ones, to the great delight of the youngsters who thought they had won the race. I simply worshiped my handsome teacher who taught me so many things. He taught me to run, to jump, to lasso and to spring upon the horses backs, all of which I greatly appreciated.

One time there was a picnic at our house, it being the largest and best house on Clat- sop. The young men began to joke and guy our teacher about his white hands. He took it good-naturedly, but finally said, "I will bet you two-hundred in cash, my watch and chain and. all I have against one hundred and whatever you can put up, that I can dig, measure, and stack more potatoes than any man on Clatsop. This stirred their blood and touched their pride and they ac- cepted his challenge. He was to dig, meas- ure and stack, sixty bushels of potatoes in three stacks in ten hours, he to select the ground. My father said to Lagrand Hill who was then working for him and whom I married two years later, "My boy, take my advice and don't fool your sum- mer's work away! I have been watching that young man for three months. He is as strong as a bear and as active as a cat;" but like the others, he needed no advice. He bet his watch and two hundred sheaves of oats on the issue. Mr. Beaufort selected Mr. Jewett's potato patch, near the county road. The day before he staked off the ground and smoothed off the spots on which- to pile his potatoes. The day was bright and beautiful. Everybody was there. including Indians. It was a genuine picnic. Every- body came provided to stay all day and see the fun. The hour being near at hand, the teacher removed his coat, vest and long blue handsome Spanish silk scarf and hung them on the fence. Suspenders were unknown in those days. He then loosened his leather belt and taking off his boots he encased his feet in a pair of handsome beaded moccasins, then drawing on a pair of soft buckskin gloves over his soft white hands, he picked up the new hoe from which he had sawed -off about half the handle and stepped to the middle of the plot. When the time keeper called the hour, he took off his hat and made a graceful bow, and stepping across a potato hill, with a foot on each side of it. with two or three strokes of the hoe he laid bare the potatoes and with both hands scooped them into the half bushel measure. It did not require more than two or three hills to

584

THE CENTENNIAL HISTORY OF OREGON

fill the measure. Then with two or three elastic leaps he emptied it on one of the places. For two or three hours he kept the tellers busy, then he took it easy and laughed and joked as he worked, and finished long before night. That was a red letter day for our handsome teacher. He had raked in watches, rings, scarf-pins and about all the spare money the young men and some of the old ones had. After he had finished he turned several hand springs and when he reached the fence, he put his hands on the top rail and sprang over and that was a revolution in potato digging on Clatsop. All the whites dug with a long-handled hoe and the Indians used a stick or their hands, crawling along on their hands and knees. That was a good lesson to the Clatsopites. He left in a few days and we never heard of lıim again, but his memory is always fresh in my mind.

He was in my young, crude and barren life, a green, flower-strewn oasis, with a fountain of cool water in its midst. I was but twelve years old, small, perfect in form, health and vigor. Brother Flem towered far above me and sister Diana, "The Clatsop beauty," was taller than our mother. My love of my handsome teacher knew no bounds. Sister Diana said I was always tagging him around and mother scolded me saying, "You ought to know that he must get tired of you and the children some- times." But I found many opportunities of being in his society and I always improved them, especially as mother was so over- worked and she was glad to be relieved of the care of the baby and two younger ones. Taking my brood, I would seek out my friend who invariably met us with a wel- coming smile for he had learned to love the two tiny girls and the big fat baby, who returned his affection. He would catch up one of the older ones, toss her above his head in such a way that she would rest across his shoulders with little arms around his head and then he would take baby and hug her up, and taking the other tot under his arm we would be off for a race and how we did enjoy it. The children would scream with delight and my own happiness was no less deep. Often we went to the field where father was cultivating or ploughing, and many times did he lift me lightly to the back of the near horse and, handing me the baby and seating one of the others behind me, with one on this shoulder he would walk beside with his hand upon us to keep us from falling. Father liked him too, and was al- ways glad to have him with us. It was a sad day when he left us. First he bade father and mother good-bye and then the children. He snatched up the baby from the floor, tossed her up and kissed her. I was trying to keep back my tears. He smiled down on me with his handsome blue eyes and said to mother, "I guess I'll take this one with me!" Mother said, "All right, she is such a tom-boy, I can never make a girl of her anyway." He took my little hand in his and I went some distance down the road with him. Then he said, "Now little one,

you must go back. You are a nice little girl. Some day you will make a fine woman; but you must remember and study your book hard and when you get to be a woman everybody will love you, and don't forget your teacher, will you?" He gathered me up in his arms smiling and kissed me and then set me down with my face toward home. I ran back and seeing the children on the fence looking, I ran around back of the house in the garden and hid and cried a long time. Of course they all laughed at me and oftentimes when I was rebellious and wayward, which was frequent, I would be confronted withi, "I wish the teacher had taken you with him," to which I never failed to answer promptly and fervently, "I wish he had too."

About this time a Mr. and Mrs. McCrary moved in on the adjoining farm. Their little home was just beyond a pretty little grassy hill, not more than a quarter of a mile away. I did not like the man but I fell in love with his tall splendid wife. She was older than my mother and very different from her. She was tall and fair but not pretty in form or face; but she was one of the most beautiful and admirable characters I ever met. To me she was beautiful, for I loved her always. No child could have loved a mother more than I loved this pure, noble woman. It is said that love begets love, and surely it did in this case for she re- turned my love with a true mother love. She was not blessed with children of her own. This affection remained unbroken through her long, subsequent life of nearly fifty years, and now looking back I can realize that the lovely example of her beautiful life has had much in molding my own and I doubt not that of many of the characters of those around her. They had but two small rooms, scantily furnished, but everything was im- maculate and she with her hair combed smoothly back, her white kerchief pinned · smoothly over her bosom and with her kind words, sweet smiles and sweet and win- ning ways, was a fitting and charming mis- tress of her spotless, little home. My mother was a neat and tasteful woman; but she said Mrs. McCrary always looked like she came out of a bandbox.

I always managed to visit my friend once a day and often several times. Whatever might be my task, I would finish it as soon as possible that I might slip off and fly to Mrs. McCrary's. It did seem like flying for my feet scarcely touched the ground as I ran. I received many scoldings for running off, and was told that grown up people did not want to be bothered with children; but unless I was positively forbidden, I went. She always seemed so glad to see me and had so many pretty and pleasant things to say to me that it was no wonder I loved her. She seldom visited and never gossiped. She was a reader, but books and papers were scarce in those days. She always treated me as if I was a little lady. She would say, "Your visits are just like bright, spark- ling. refreshing sunbeams to me." If a but- ton was gone from my dress or apron, a

585

THE CENTENNIAL HISTORY OF OREGON

pin went in and she would say, "Now that looks so much nicer." Sometimes she would say, "I am going to comb out those lovely braids of yours." She would take down my hair, which came half-way to the floor, and then the little glass from the wall, holding it that I might see how pretty it looked, waving over my shoulders, saying, "We will just wait a while, it makes you look so like a fairy." Sometimes she told me fairy stories while she taught me to knit, crochet and sew, all this time talking and drawing me out, correcting my mistakes, with such delicacy, that my super-sensitive nature was never wounded. She infused such a charm into everything she did and said, that I was not only interested, but anxious to learn. She impressed upon my mind in the most positive language just how the things should be done and showing me by example, and having me assist when possible and always excusing my blunders. If she was making biscuits, she would have me stand by while she showed me every step. "Now you take so many cups of flour, so many cups of milk, so much butter, so much salt and sugar for so many persons and when you knead the biscuits, be sure and do not get the flour too near the edge of the board or it will get on the floor and you must stand a little back, or you will soil your apron. Do you know I have seen women who would wear an apron all the week and then it would not be as mussed as that of some women would be in one day. Some women have a place for everything and keep them in place while some women keep their things hap- hazard and never know where anything is. They make themselves a great deal of work, and have a harder time. You will never be that kind of a person, for your mother is a good house-keeper." Was it any wonder that I loved that wise, good woman? I was as wax in her hands. Could I have been un- der her influence till I reached maturity in- * stead of one year, I could and would have escaped many hardships and sorrows of my life.

After many years I returned to Clatsop and heard that Mr. McCrary was dead and Mrs. McCrary was spending the winter in Astoria. I went at once to see her. Oh, what a joyful meeting was ours and with what interest and emotion did we recall and rehearse the past. She was the same grand woman. Hardships and griefs of which she had suffered many, seemed to have made her more lovely and saintly. She said, "Well, I am getting old and you are young and fresh with the bloom and beauty of womanhood upon you; but I can see much to remind me of the little barefooted, girl who brought me so much pleasure the year I lived near your fathers'," and she laughed heartily. Again we parted and years came and went. I became a physician, married, and went to live on my "Sunnymead" farm, on Clatsop. One dark night a messenger came with a lantern saying, "Mrs. Mc- Crary is suffering dreadfully with an abscess. Would I go?" "Yes. by every fond recollec- tion, by every tie of gratitude and affection,

yes, I will go." A walk of a mile and a half over the rough roadless tide land brought us to the Lewis and Clark river where horses were awaiting us, then a three mile ride brought us to our destination. I adminis- tered an opiate and lanced the ulcer, applied a hot poultice and hot water bag and she . was soon comfortable. Then she said, "How good God is to send you to me in my trou- bles. I do not regret my suffering so that it brought you to me. Now I want you to get right in bed with me. I am ashamed to be so selfish not to let you sleep in another room after such a hard trip; but if you had given me a bushel of opiates, I could not sleep. I am so hungry for a good long talk." "Do not think you are depriving me of any- thing, for I am as anxious as you for such a talk," and we did talk from 2 A. M. to breakfast time, living over much of our past lives from my early childhood. A few years later she came to Clatsop to visit friends who owned my father's old donation land claim. While there she was attacked with pneumonia and for a time I despaired of her life. She calmly said, "I know my time has come! I am ready and anxious to go. I have lived beyond my usefulness! You are doing all you can and I do not blame you; but I feel that I ought to go now." But her time was not come. She re- covered and went to Portland to live with her adopted son whom she had raised from infancy. I saw her there frequently.

In 1899, just before moving to Yakima, Washington, I called to say good-bye. On seeing me she arose to her feet and met me with her heart warming smile. "I see you are reading the Oregonian," I said. "Yes, I spend much of my time in reading. If I could only remember what I read. My mem- ory is just about half across the floor. You see that is about the length of it." "Never mind your present memory," I said, "your past will not desert you, and the good you have done in this world will linger long after you and I have been laid to rest." The pleasant and cheerful way in which she al- luded to her loss of memory illustrates the wonderful charm and beauty in which she invested life, so that all its rough, unsightly and annoying features were sure, under her sunny way of presenting them, to become · less disagreeable and often charming. To me her examples have been helps and bless- ings throughout my life. That was the last time I saw that grand, noble woman, one of God's masterpieces. Her walk in life was - lowly; but sunshine and flowers followed her and illumined her pathway. No one came in contact with her without being made better.

An amusing occurrence took place when I was about thirteen. Father had a little, ugly .Welshman working for him. This man had been trying to make love to me for some time and notwithstanding my scornful re- jection of his attention and positive rude treatment of him he persisted. One morning I was washing. In the room under the stair- way were several barrels half-filled with cranberries. That little imp, knowing I was there and watching his opportunity, slipped

586

THE CENTENNIAL HISTORY OF OREGON

up behind me as I was stirring down the clothes with a long broom handle. He threw his arms around me and hugged me and tried to kiss me, then jumped back and laugh- ed triumphantly and tried to escape by the open door; but like a tiger I leaped between him and the door and gave him such a whack with the broom handle that he staggered and rushed under the stairs and plunged his head in the cranberry barrel, thus presenting a fair field for the strokes which in my fury I laid on thick and fast with all the strength I pos- sessed. He sercamed and mother hearing the disturbance ran down stairs and had to actually pull me off by main strength. When I got his head out of the barrel he sputtered and stammered and could not utter a co- herent word. In towering contempt I ex- claimed, "You little skunk, if you ever darc to come near me again, I'll kill you."

About this time another occurrence hap- pened that made a lasting impression on my mind. One morning a young farmer about twenty-seven years old came rushing ex- citedly up with his coat on his arm to mother who was in the back yard, say- ing, "Where is Tom Owens ?" "What do you want of him? He is not here." "I want him and I intend to whip him within an inch of his life." Mother said, "Now Luke, go home and get over your mad fit. Owens has never done you any harm and I tell you now, if you do get him roused he will beat you half to death, and I don't want to sce you hurt;" but he had no notion of getting hurt. Just then we saw father coming up the road on horseback. Luke saw him and started for him. Mother called and begged him to come back, the children were terribly frightened and began to cry. Mother said, "Stop your crying, your father is not going to be hurt." She walked out with us to where we could see and hear all. Father stopped his horse, and Luke, throwing down his coat, began gesticulating, swearing and daring father to fight him; but father sat calmly on his horse and said, "Now Luke, you are only a boy, and you don't know what you are doing. Go home and let me alone. I don't want to hurt you." At this Luke sprang at him, calling him a coward and attempted to pull him off his horse; but before he could catch his foot, father was off his horse on the opposite side. Giving the bridle a pull he turned the horse away from him. The first thing he did when Luke came lunging at him was to knock him down with a single blow and then he held him down and choked him till he cried enough, when father re- leased him saying, "Go to the house and wash and clean yourself up! My wife will give you water and towels." Luke lost no time in obeying and mother assisted him. She said, "I am very sorry you did not take my advice for I knew you would get hurt." He was very penitent and humiliated and when father came up, bringing his coat and assisted him in putting it on, they shook hands and were friends ever after. It turn- ed out that some of the neighbors knowing him to be a bragging bully and wanting to

see the conceit taken out of him had told him that father had accused him of stealing.

In 1853, finding that his six hundred and forty acres could no longer supply food for his rapidly increasing herds, father decided to move to southern Oregon. He sct about building a flat boat or scow in which to move the family and stock that he did not wish to sell. In the fall, after the crops were harvested, and everything sold that was not desirable to move, the stock was shipped to Rainier and then the family and teams were shipped to Portland, then a small town. Af- ter disposing of the boat and loading up the two wagons we started for the valley. It had been raining and we had a terrible timc getting through the timber, west and south of Portland, father leading and mother fol- lowing with the second teamn.

Mr. John Hobson, my brother-in-law, had taken the cattle and horses through by a trail and leaving them in care of the men came back and met us in the woods for which we were very thankful. We came up with the herd and bidding Mr. Hobson and the men good-bye we proceeded on to Roseburg, with- out mishap, brother Flem and I with one man, who father said was not worth half as much as either of us. Father said we were worth more as drivers than any two men he could hire. The weather was fine and there was plenty of grass. That part of the journey was a picnic. Upon leaving home I insisted upon taking my big cat, "Tab," against the judgment of everybody; but after a good deal of argument and many tears on my part, I carried my point. After well on our way I let him out after making camp, putting him in the covered wagon and fastening down the cover. When we were ready to start one morning the horses had strayed off and father sent me after them. When I returned with them everything was packed and was moving. I forgot Tab. Af- ter going a mile or more I thought of him and rushed back to mother's wagon. She had not seen or thought of him. Without a word I put whip to my horse and galloped back to camp and rode up and down that pretty little creek calling, "Tabby"; but saw no signs of him. With a sad heart I rode back and overtook the wagons and stock. When we stopped for noon mother sent me to the wagon for something and when I lifted the cover what did I see but my big, beautiful Tab, ready to mect me with his affectionate meow. On reaching Roseburg we found our old friends, the Perrys, who had a house ready for us and we moved in. Father took up a claim just across the Umpqua river from the little town of Rose- burg. He bought huber for a good house and began hauling it on the building spot. Ile had a large scope of range and during the winter he built a ferry boat for his own accommodation and the public.

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.

The centennial history of Oregon, 1811-1912, Part 87

Author: Gaston, Joseph, 1833- Publication date: 1912 Publisher: Chicago, The S.J. Clarke publishing company Number of Pages: 1072

Author: Gaston, Joseph, 1833-
Publication date: 1912
Publisher: Chicago, The S.J. Clarke publishing company
Number of Pages: 1072