Early Oregon: jottings of personal recollections of a pioneer of 1850

By George E. Cole

Chapter IV

    Soon after the adjournment of the legislature I went out to Jackson county, and was told many hard-times tales of the hard winter now happily over. Provisions of all kinds had been scarce. To obtain flour was out of the question. Snow covered the ground everywhere. Salt and salt meats there was none. "Venison straight," as they termed it, only was plentiful. The crust on the snow would bear up a man, but the sharp feet of the deer would cut through it, impeding their progress to such an extent that they could not escape their pursuers, and were overtaken and killed by footmen with axes. This condition was fortunate for the miners, as they had no ammunition with which to shoot them, and venison without salt or bread or bacon or beans was in most instances their only food for several weeks. Just as I arrived at Jacksonville one mule load of salt arrived. It came from Scottsburg, most of the way through snow, a path being broken by the owner, Dr. Fisk, the mule following behind. Before reaching town Dan Kinney, partner of the Jacksonville house of Kinney & Appier, rode out of town and bought the load, at $8 per pound. There being 250 pounds of it, the packer was well paid for his hard trip of 150 or more miles. Hearing of this, the miners and citizens of Jacksonville held a meeting and passed a resolution, in other words a law, "regulating" the price of salt. It was decided that the merchant should be requested to sell this salt, in quantities of not more than one pound to each person, and at a price not exceeding one ounce of gold ($16) per pound. It is needless to say that no appeal from this action was taken. The men stood in line as at a post office, and handed their dust to one of the partners to be weighed, and the other partner weighed out the salt and handed it to the purchaser. In many instances three or four persons would club together, and as soon as the salt was obtained they would reach out their hands for a portion of it and eat it as a child would sugar. Persons who have never tried a diet without salt, and not having any kind of food containing it, could hardly realize the situation of these people. Tobacco was very scarce for a time, yet the price of it was only $14 per pound.
    Early in May I returned to Marysville. Meantime General Lane had been nominated by the Democrats for Congress and A. A. Skinner, at that time Indian Agent to the Rogue river Indians, had been brought out by petition to run against him. That canvass was not political, but personal and sectional, as carried on by many of the supporters of each candidate. The principals, however, maintained throughout the campaign a gentlemanly bearing toward each other, and the amenities of civilized people were not ignored. I am tempted to write of the asperities of this contest, and of the continuance of this style for years, but I forbear. Elsewhere in other states any coarse vituperative expression appearing in public print was referred to as the "Oregon style," which phrase, happily for the good name of Oregon, has long since been discarded and passed out of use as a distinctive appellation of Oregon journalism. Lane was elected, having received about 1600 majority out of a total of about 7500.
    On the morning of the first Sunday in June, 1853, Major James A. Lupton and myself, while on our way to Jacksonville, via the Table Rock trail, leading over the mountains from Umpqua valley, with a drove of hogs which we were taking to the Rogue river valley to feed on camas, the feed for hogs at that season of the year we were also looking for a place to cut hay and having camped the night before on Trail creek, a tributary of Rogue river, rode into an Indian ambush on the north side of the river, a short distance above Thompson's Ferry. We had taken a trail leading to the river about two or three miles above the ferry, instead of the right one leading direct to it. On entering a clump of willows on the river's bank we found ourselves confronted by a band of about 40 Indians in war paint, armed in part with guns and pistols, others having bows and arrows, which in close quarters are more effective weapons in a fight than the guns used at that time.
    Major Lupton, as he was generally called, was not an army officer, but came to Oregon in 1849 as wagon master for the rifle regiment. He was at that time engaged in the business of packing. We were partners, and a more honorable, upright and energetic man it has never been my fortune to know. He was brave to rashness. He was just ahead of me on the trail, and as he halted I noticed he reached for his pistol in the holster of his saddle. I spurred my horse to his side, and putting my hand on his arm told him not to shoot, immediately addressing the chief, who was standing in front of us a few paces off, in Chinook, asking him what was the matter, and how far it was to the ferry. This, of course, after saying to him, "How do you do?"
    To none of these inquiries did he reply, but stood sullen and motionless. Lupton still held his revolver in hand, ready for action, but not raising it, awaiting the outcome of my talk with the chief, who proved to be "Cutface Jack," chief of a wild band of upper Rogue river Indians. Knowing enough of Indians to feel certain that they were lying in wait for a larger party than two persons, and having heard that a raid was contemplated by a company of white men to their country to rescue a white woman who was supposed to be held a prisoner among them, I immediately decided that the proper thing to do was to assume that it was that party, not us, they desired to intercept.
    I kept close watch of the chief as he proceeded to question me in turn, knowing it was of the utmost importance to understand every word he uttered, as well as to make him understand me, which was a task not easily performed, as neither of us were proficient linguists in the Chinook jargon. He asked who we were, what we wanted, and where we were going. I told him we were from the Willamet valley, had come across the mountains the day before, and had camped for the night a few miles back, giving him the exact spot, which I divined that he well knew, as I did not think that we could approach so near a party of hostile Indians without their knowledge. He was satisfied with my answers, and immediately came forward and gave me his hand to shake. He did not offer it to the Major, as he regarded me as chief, for I had done the talking. This was well, as the Major told me afterwards that he would have refused it, as he expected at any moment to have use for his right hand in handling his pistol. Upon a sign made by the chief, the warriors all disappeared into the bushes, and we passed on to the ferry without further molestation.
    My companion, irritated by the occurrence, proposed going back and taking a few shots at them, as he said, just to teach them better than to interfere with white men. When we arrived at the ferry, Thompson informed us that ''Cutface Jack" and his party were looking for a company of volunteers under Captain Lamerick, who a couple of days before had captured four of their party, and while holding them prisoners as hostages for the release of the supposed white woman, who was believed to be held a prisoner by their tribe, two of them in trying to escape in the night had been shot and killed, the other two escaping to the Indian camp with the news. "Cutface Jack" had rallied his band of warriors and was on the warpath, and he was trying to intercept Lamerick's party on their return from their trip up the river. Instead of this, he informed us, they had returned to Jacksonville by a more southerly route, and thus had eluded the ambush of "Cut-face Jack" which we fell into.
    We arranged with Thompson to send a man with some trusty Indians back to move our camp to his ferry. As he had a squaw for a wife, and was on good terms with the Indians we felt that the camp would be safe under his care.
    The next day was election day, Jacksonville poll¬ing a very large vote. I had cut and stacked a lot of hay and built a cabin across Bear creek from Jacksonville, about 12 miles distant, in what was conceded to be exclusively Indian country, as no settlers had located across the creek in that vicinity. Lupton had gone on the plains to buy cattle from the immigrants, and after I had completed the preparations he desired me to make, I started on horseback for Marysville, on what was to me most important business, seeing the person who later became the partner of my life.
    On arriving at Patrick's ranch, some eight or nine miles north of Jacksonville, I found him gathering up his horses to start for the Willamet valley, as he had just heard that Thomas Wills, a merchant of Jacksonville, had been killed by the Indians, and as he intended going soon after supplies, he thought it prudent to go at once. After feeding my horse and eating dinner, we started and made Rock creek, then Dr. Rose's ranch, at night.
    Early the following morning we started on, and arriving at Grave creek, found the people "forted up." They urged us to remain, saying that the Indians were uneasy, and had done some stealing, and they feared trouble. We, however, were deaf to their entreaties, and moving rapidly on to the crossing of Cow creek, some 10 miles distant, we found the cabin on the north side of the creek burned down, and discovered parts of the bodies of two men still burning in the ashes. We pushed on up the creek about four miles, and found the people "forted up" as at Grave creek. We were again urged to stop and remain with them.
    Making camp and cooking a meal, we seriously considered the situation. Large numbers of Indians were on the hills to the left of our road, yelling and howling like demons, and loudly calling out, and daring the whites to come up and fight them, generally talking Chinook, but some of them using broken English. We were but a short distance from Hardy Elliffs’ at the south end of the canyon. Fearing the loss of his horses if we remained, Patrick was anxious to go on. I was equally, perhaps more, anxious than he. We started about sundown. I was mounted on a strong, spirited horse, and, taking the bell from the bell mare, put it on him, and started ahead. Patrick, mounting his fastest horse, brought up the rear. On seeing us start the Indians started in the same direction we were going, expecting, no doubt, that they would be able to head us off by the time we reached the divide in the canyon, which was about three miles distant from the south end. Many of the Indians were on foot, some were mounted on ponies, but we were confident that we could beat them to the divide, as our path was free from brush and good, while theirs was through the brush. We made as fast time as good, strong horses could carry us, the loose horses following closely after the bell.
    On reaching the summit we felt sure that we had beaten them, but, as it was dark in the timber, were not certain. Going down the steep and tortuous trail to the bed of the creek, in which now lay our way, we followed it for two miles. It was walled in by perpendicular bluffs on both sides. The ride was a rough one, as the creek was filled with boulders, many of them of considerable size. I called out to Patrick, and he answered, "All right" At this moment the Indians had arrived at the summit and set up a hair-lifting yell of rage and disappointment. We lost no time, but pushed on at full speed, and emerged from the creek. The road there crosses it 68 times, the crossings being usually made on a walk, but we slackened not our pace, and came out at the north end of the canyon (Canyonville) and warned the settlers, who until now knew nothing of the outbreak. They hastily "forted up" and put out a strong guard up the canyon.
    Shortly after reaching Marysville, the news came of a general outbreak. The first man through after us brought news of the killing of John R. Hardin, Dr. Rose and others. Hardin and Rose we knew well, and had seen them just before, having said good-bye to Hardin at Patrick's ranch, and having stopped with Rose our first night out. Before reaching Roseburg, I met James Kyle, a partner of Wills, with his pack train of goods from Scottsburg. Learning of his partner's death, he at once gave orders to his train men where to camp with the train and remain until further orders. He immediately started for Jacksonville, but was shot and killed by an Indian in ambush on Rogue river, about 20 miles before reaching his destination.
    I borrowed a good rifle of B. R. Biddle, and, having supplied myself with ammunition, retraced my steps toward the scene of hostilities, packing one horse lightly and riding another. On arriving at Myrtle creek, three or four well armed young men accompanied me. We arrived at Grave creek the first night the news that an armistice with the Indians had been made reached there. The next day I went on to headquarters at Thompson's Ferry, and reported to General Lane, who at the time of my arrival was lying down with his arm in a sling, having received a wound in his right shoulder during the battle at Evans creek with Indians.
    As there were rumors among the volunteers that some of them were not standing by the armistice they had agreed to with the Indians, General Lane requested me to go among the camps and see what I could learn. Many new companies had arrived since the battle of Evans creek, and they, having had no part in it, were "spoiling for a fight" and chaffed those who were in the fight for agreeing to an armistice, and declaring they would not abide by the agreement. This sentiment seemed to predominate. I reported to General Lane the information I had gathered. He called the volunteers together and gave them a strong talk, couched in the plainest English. He told them that the armistice had been agreed to on the part of the volunteers by their united vote, distinctly stating that he had exercised no influence in bringing about the decision, but that he would see that it was carried out in good faith, and that if others deserted him, he knew that his own, Douglas county company, and the regular----Captain A. J. Smith with his dragoons----would stand by him, and that all honest men among all the companies would be found arrayed on his side.
    There never was a mutinous set of soldiers so completely silenced and squelched. The sight of that gray-haired commander, with one arm in a sling, still painful from the wound of a bullet, with courage, not only sufficient to fight a savage foe, but also sufficient to meet boldly and resolutely an attempt to sully the character of his own command, was an inspiring spectacle.
    Supposing that my cabin and haystacks were burned, and the hogs that were left there to feed upon the Indian camas had been killed or run off, as there had been destruction of property all over the valley, I was greatly surprised on being accosted by the little chief near my camp, who informed me that I would find everything safe. Thereupon I rode on to the camp, a distance of about eight miles, and found the Indian's information was correct. I returned to headquarters, and, as there were grave doubts whether or not a treaty would be made with the Indians, I asked General Lane's advice. He told me to move the stock. I thereupon did so. A treaty was made and peace prevailed until 1865, when a general outbreak occurred.
    A description of what occurred at the making of the treaty is given by Senator Nesmith, then Captain Nesmith, as follows:
    "Early in the morning of the 10th of September, 1853, we mounted our horses and set out for the Indian encampment. Our party consisted of the following named persons: General Joseph Lane, Joel Palmer, Superintendent of Indian Affairs; Samuel H. Culver, Indian Agent; Captain A. J. Smith, First Dragoons; Captain L. F. Mosher, Adjutant; Colonel John E. Ross, Captain J. W. Nesmith, Lieutenant A. V. Kautz, R. B. Metcalf, J. D. Mason and T. T. Tierney. After riding a couple of miles across the level valley, we came to the foot of the mountain, where it was too steep for horses to ascend. We dismounted and hitched our horses, and scrambled up for half a mile over huge rocks and through brush, when we found ourselves in the Indian stronghold, just under the perpendicular cliff of Table Rock, surrounded by seven hundred fierce and hostile savages, arrayed in all their gorgeous war paint and feathers.
    "Captain Smith had drawn out his company of dragoons and left them in line on the plain below. It was a bright, beautiful morning, and the Rogue river valley lay like a panorama at our feet. The exact line of dragoons, sitting statue-like upon their horses, with their white belts and burnished scabbards and carbines, looked like they were engraven upon a picture, while a few paces in our rear the huge, perpendicular wall of Table Rock towered frowningly many hundred feet above us.
    "The business of the treaty commenced at once. Long speeches were made by General Lane and Superintendent Palmer, which had to be translated twice. When an Indian spoke the Rogue river tongue it was translated by an Indian interpreter into Chinook, or jargon, to me, when I translated it into English. When Lane or Palmer spoke the process was reversed, I giving the speech to the interpreter in Chinook, and he translating it to the Indians in their own tongue. This double translation of long speeches made the labor tedious, and it was not until late in the afternoon that the treaty was completed and signed.
    "In the meantime an episode occurred which came near terminating the treaty, as well as the representation of one of the 'high contracting' parties, in a sudden and tragic manner. About the middle of the afternoon a young Indian came running into camp stark naked, with the perspiration streaming from every pore. He made a brief harangue and threw himself upon the ground apparently exhausted. His speech had created a great tumult among his tribe. General Lane told me to inquire of the Indian interpreter the cause of the commotion. The Indian responded that a company of white men down on Applegate creek, under command of Captain Owens, had that morning captured an Indian known as Jim Taylor, tied him to a tree and shot him to death. The hubbub and confusion among the Indians at once became intense, and murder glared from each savage visage. The Indian interpreter told me that the Indians were threatening to tie us up to trees and serve us as Owens' men had served Jim Taylor. I saw some Indians gathering up lasso ropes, while others drew the skin covers from their guns and the wiping sticks from the muzzles. There appeared to be a strong probability of our party being subjected to a sudden volley. I explained as briefly as I could what the interpreter had communicated to me; and, in order to keep our people from huddling together and thus making a better target for the savages, I used a few English words not likely to be understood by the Indian interpreter, such as 'disperse' and 'segregate.' In fact, we kept so close to the savages and separated from one another, that any general firing must have been nearly as fatal to the Indians as to the whites. While I admit I thought my time had come, and hurriedly thought of wife and children, I noticed nothing but coolness among my companions. General Lane sat on a log with his arm bandaged in a sling, the lines about his mouth rigidly compressing his lips, while his eyes flashed fire. He asked brief questions and gave me sententious answers to what little the Indians said to us. Captain A. J. Smith, who was prematurely gray haired, and was affected with a nervous snapping of the eyes, leaned upon his cavalry saber and looked anxiously down upon his well-formed line of dragoons in the valley below. His eyes snapped more vigorously than usual, while muttered words escaped from under the old dragoon's white mustache that did not sound like prayers. His squadron looked beautiful, but alas! they could render us no service. I sat down on a log close to old Chief Joe, and having a sharp hunting knife under my undershirt, kept one hand near its handle, determined that there would be one Indian made 'good' about the time the firing commenced.
    "In a few moments General Lane stood up and commenced to speak slowly, but very distinctly. He said: 'Owens, who has violated the armistice and has killed Jim Taylor, is a bad man. He is not one of my soldiers. When I catch him he shall be punished. I promised in good faith to come into your camp with ten other unarmed men to secure peace. Myself and men are placed in your power. I do not believe that you are such cowardly dogs as to take advantage of our unarmed condition. I know that you have the power to murder us, and can do so as quickly as you please, but what good will our blood do you? Our murder will exasperate our friends, and your tribe will be hunted from the face of the earth. Let us proceed with the treaty, and, in place of war, have a lasting peace/ Much more was said in this strain by the General, all rather defiant, but nothing of a begging character. The excitement gradually subsided after Lane had promised to give a fair compensation for the defunct Jim Taylor, in shirts and blankets.
    "As General Lane and party rode back across the valley, we looked up and saw the rays of the setting sun gilding the summit of Table Rock. I drew a long breath and remarked to the old General that the next time he wanted to go unarmed into a hostile camp he must hunt up some one besides myself to act as interpreter, With a benignant smile he responded, 'God bless you, luck is better than science.' "
    Lupton came in from the plains with a lot of stock and was surprised to find even the arrangements at the camp were not disturbed. Half a dozen pack covers, half a dozen lash ropes, a hatchet and some nails were taken, but were brought back by order of little Chief John. When locating on the place I made a treaty with this Indian, paying him for the use of the land from which to cut hay and for the stock to range, naming specifically that the hogs were to have right to camas and acorns. The hay was hauled to Jacksonville the following summer and sold, as the winter was mild and it was not needed for the stock.
    Lupton later became sole owner of this property, and, after living there two years, was killed by the Indians in a battle at the mouth of Butte creek. He was leading a company of volunteers, and while charging in the brush was pierced through the body by an arrow from an Indian bow. The Indian was lying on his back and sprang his bow with his feet—a very effectual way, as great force can thus be given to the bow to speed the arrow.
    At the treaty the facts about the white woman were ascertained from the Indians, which were as follows: During a war between the Rogue river and Umpqua tribes the latter had captured some prisoners. Among them was a young squaw, whom the Umpquas sold to one Ben Allen, a white man, who was a courier riding between the Hudson Bay posts of Vancouver and Umpqua. He made her his wife, and took her to Vancouver. While making a trip through the Rogue river valley with this squaw and her child she, finding herself in her native country, escaped to her people and remained with them, so that, instead of there being a white woman and half-breed child, the fact was that it was an Indian woman and a half-breed child, living among her own people. Several raids had been projected for the purpose of rescuing a white woman, held prisoner among the Indians, one of whom, it was said, compelled her to become his wife and slave. Much valorous talk had, from time to time, been indulged in by the young white braves. Many other myths were explained, and a better understanding was had between the red and white races.
    A true history of the difficulties would disclose the fact that most of them could have been avoided. The first knowledge Indians obtain of white men with whom they come in contact is not calculated to inspire them with much respect for, or confidence in, the white race. Better people, bringing families with them, came among them later, but the Indian judgment is made up, and it is hard to eradicate their first impressions. They change the statement that "all men are liars" by inserting the word white, but further acquaintance causes them to qualify this view, so as to admit that some white men tell the truth, and when they find such an one they trust him implicitly, and will take his word for any amount. In contrast with our management of Indians, in¬stance the success of the Hudson Bay Company's management.

Chapter V

    In the autumn of 1854, while on a business trip to southern Oregon, I was overtaken by ex-Judge Pratt, on his way to Jacksonville to get acquainted with the people, as he intended to become a candidate before the Democratic convention to be held in the following spring to nominate a delegate to Congress. As I was for Lane and knew pretty well how he stood in the estimation of the people in the southern counties, I ventured to suggest to him that he would encounter much opposition in that section. He, however, nothing daunted, believed that he could readily overcome it. He was a man of rare qualities, a good lawyer and a learned judge. He was very proud and dignified, a fine talker and a very entertaining man. He was readily the peer of the foremost men of the territory, and by many regarded the superior of all. We stopped at the Robinson House, kept at that time by its proprietor, Dr. Robinson, who was a Whig. He treated his guests with great courtesy and much consideration, as his name was well known and he had been much in evidence in the papers of that day.
    I left the judge with the host, with the request that he introduce him to persons who might come into the hotel, which he promised to do, and I went out to see some people on business. On returning to the hotel later, I found the judge busily engaged in "making his canvass." He stood before the bar, a thing he was never known to do before in Oregon. He was arrayed in a faultless suit, including a silk hat and a high shirt collar. In the parlance of the times, he wore a "stove-pipe hat" and a "biled shirt with a stake-and-ridered collar." His boon companions were miners in their rough garb, ranged along the bar on both sides of him. The judge was a good talker, and he was giving them the best he had for the occasion, and they were listening with apparent interest. As soon as they caught his drift, however, they looked at each other knowingly, as they were ardent admirers of General Lane, having met him during the Indian war of the year previous. One tall miner reached down to his boot, drew out a long knife and took the silk hat off the judge's head, saying, "This stove-pipe is too high by a j'int." Suiting the action to the word, he slashed it into two parts, and slapping the parts together, put it back on the judge's head. Pratt took this all in good part, and set up the drinks, which at this juncture was the only thing in order.
    Pratt had long, curly hair, black and glossy. The miner's next performance was to cut off a lock, saying as he did so that it was the "puttiest ha'r he had ever seed," that he must have just one lock for a keepsake, and that he hoped no offense to him, as he loved him. With that he threw his arms around the judge and gave him a good hug. With a wonderful exhibition of good nature and tact, Pratt took it all pleasantly. This somewhat nonplused the miner, and if he had any further designs upon his victim he evidently abandoned them, as he remarked, on putting away his knife, that he would not take off the top rail of his "stake-and-ridered" collar.
    They bade each other good-night, and parted, apparently the best of friends. The next morning I complimented the judge upon his successful entrance upon his canvass, and he seemed to be very well satisfied with the outcome of it. He had seen much of the world, but this was the first time he had seen this corner of it. He went over to Sterling the next day and then returned to the Willamet valley.
    He regarded himself as the leader of the Salem capital party, and it was generally conceded that without the aid he rendered in writing and reading his legal opinion before the legislature, its members might have gone to Oregon City and joined those there, and thus Salem would not have secured the capital.
    Dryer, in the Oregonian, called those who adhered to Pratt's opinions "Durhamites," as it was told of Pratt that he bought a lot of scrub cattle of a man by the name of Durham and sold them at a fancy price for Durham cattle, claiming that they were of that stock. So all who shared his opinions were "Durhamites." His friends, however, claimed that the term "Durham cattle" was given to this band of cattle to distinguish them from other cattle he owned, and not for the purpose of deceiving. Pratt confidently expected the support of his former friends, and was very wroth when they deserted him. Many of them had supported Deady against Lane in 1853, and he could not see why he should not receive their support, and in addition that of numbers of others, on account of his well-known ability, which none disputed.
    But several things had happened since 1853. The capital had, by act of the legislature, been removed to Corvallis. The Durhamites, now called the Salem Clique, were making a fight to render the removal abortive. The Treasury Department refused to pay any expenses incurred, or to be incurred, on account of that removal, and the Salem Clique could not, if it so desired, afford to break with Lane. Besides, Lane was so strongly entrenched that any effort in that line would have resulted in failure. Wisely, they concluded to support Lane, as they preferred a "sure winner" to an uncertainty, although in the person of a former idol.
    The steamer arrived at Portland two days before the convention assembled at Salem, bringing Lane, and the day preceding the convention he and the delegates from the northern counties of the territory were on board of the steamboat Canemah, on their way to Salem. I was at the time captain, George Jerome was mate, George A. Pease, pilot; Theodore Wygant, purser; Sebastian Miller and William Cassedy, engineers; and Joseph Buchtel, steward. I mention these names particularly in this connection because these men, I believe, are at this time all alive and in fair health, except Jerome, who died several years ago, and Theodore Wygant, who died recently. A remarkable thing, I think, when we reflect that they were all experienced men in their respective positions at that time, except myself, who was a novice in steamboating. We were late in leaving Oregon City that morning, as we had to wait for the arrival of the boat from Portland, hav¬ing on board General Lane and many of our pas¬sengers. Some miles out from our starting point, while running under a full head of steam, a woman on the bank hailed us. The pilot asked me if I wanted to land for her. I replied, "Certainly," sup¬posing she wanted to take passage with us, as we usually took all passengers we found along the river, but under the circumstances would not have made a landing for a man, unless he was a delegate to the convention. Upon approaching the bank she, holding out a letter, said she wanted us to take it to her sister in Salem. The mate was indignant and ordered the plank pulled in. I said, "Mate, take the lady's letter," in a tone all could hear. Upon hearing this she sang out, "Thank you, Captain; I know you are a gentleman." I took off my hat, and, bowing to her, said it would be one of the greatest pleasures of my life to comply with her request. The passengers thought it a good joke on the captain, thinking that I must feel chagrined at the incident, but Lane came to my assistance. Stepping forward in true military style and saluting me, he said that he had traveled up and down the Mississippi river a great many times, and that this was the most gallant act that he had ever had the honor to witness. So the tables were turned in my favor. But as a matter of fact, it was annoying, and in case of a man would have called for a thumping. I did not credit myself with having performed a very meritorious act, for had I known her object in stopping us I would not have ordered the landing. But I was "up against it," and did the only thing to do under the circumstances.
    Dr. McLoughlin, who a few years previous was chief factor of the Hudson Bay Company, now owner of a flouring mill at Oregon City, was the principal purchaser of the wheat grown along the Willamet river and shipped from points between Salem and Oregon City, mostly raised on French Prairie. Besides turning the wheat over to the mill, he required me to report to him in person on the evening of my arrival, which was at least twice a week.
    Allen & McKinlay kept the old Hudson Bay store, with which Dr. McLoughlin was connected. On the evening of my first arrival with wheat, at eight o'clock, I went to the store, and McKinlay accompanied me to the doctor's home across the street. After politely receiving us, he turned a goblet one-third full of Jamaica rum, into another one-half that quantity, and into another one-half of that, then filling the glasses with two parts water to one of rum, he handed the smallest quantity to me, the next to McKinlay, the largest he appropriated himself. We all slowly sipped it.
    During the conversation which followed, he inquired about the different shippers along the river, who were mostly Frenchmen and half-breeds, and gave me verbal orders, as none others would have done, to give them about further shipments.
    The second time I reported to him the rum and water was repeated. On the way to the store, after our call, I asked McKinlay for an explanation of the doctor's partiality with the drinks. McKinlay, a jolly Scotchman, laughed and said, "Well, Captain, he dealt that rum out medicinally and not for sociability. Being a man of ripe years, he took the most himself, me, being next in age, the second sized dose, and you, being the youngest, the smallest dose. That's his way, but come over to the store and we will have a social drink." Which we did, sitting around the stove, that rainy winter night, spinning yarns until a late hour.
    Pratt was defeated in convention. He felt very sore over it, and soon after left Oregon and permanently located in San Francisco, where he was several times elected judge, served in that capacity with honor to himself, and wore his stove-pipe hat in peace.
    Ex-Governor Gaines was nominated by the Whigs, but Lane was for the third time elected, after the most exciting campaign Oregon had yet had.
    The legislature had removed the capital to Corvallis and adjourned to meet there in December, 1855. Now came another fight over the capital question. The Treasury Department at Washington decided that no money could be paid out on account of such removal, and that the capitol building at Salem was entitled to the funds appropriated for its construction, which was as yet incomplete. Members of the legislature elected in 1855 were considerably at sea as to their duty, but concluded to meet at the place of adjournment, Corvallis, and there determine the question as to whether they would remain there or adjourn to Salem, or (in other words) proceed to relocate the seat of government. A bill was introduced to provide for the relocation, but the adherents of Corvallis put up a strong fight to defeat the removal. Nat Lane, a son of General Lane, was much interested in Corvallis. He had his home there, and was engaged in the mercantile business, and when accosted for aid in bringing an influence to bear upon the legislature, declared that he could most certainly control one vote, and that he would guarantee to do so; they could put him down for that. He said that old man Hutson, from Douglas county, he knew would vote as he asked him to, if he could see him when he first arrived. He did not assert that he could do this on his own account, although he and Hutson were on very friendly terms, but said that he relied upon the strong attachment existing between Hutson and his father, whom, he averred, the old man almost worshiped, and would do anything to please him. All he would have to do, he said, would be to talk to him, and show him that all his property interests were in Corvallis, and the love borne for the father would induce him to vote to promote the interests of the son. So a lookout was kept on the incoming member from Douglas, and upon his arrival a meeting occurred at Nat's store, where several of us came by invitation, to meet his friend. Nat was most happy on the occasion, and opened the ball by telling the member from Douglas how much his father thought of him, how much it would please his father if he should learn of any favor bestowed upon any of the family, and telling him that his own interests were now at stake in the projected relocation and adjournment to Salem. The old man replied that he would do anything in the world for him on account of the old "Gineral," saying that he did not want to come to the legislature, or hold any office, but the old "Gineral" had told him he must come, and to please him he ran, and was elected. He said that before the old "Gineral" went to Washington he got on his horse and rode over to see him, and ask his advice, how to act and how to vote when he went to the legislature, saying that he had always had his advice about matters, and now, with this most important matter on hand, he, the "Gineral," was going off to Washington, and he would be lost, and not know what to do. He said: "You know, Nat, I believe in the old 'Gineral'; I paid close attention to what his words war, and he told me that he was sorry that he had to go and leave me in that way, but it couldn't be 'holped'; that I must do what I thought was right, and if anything came up on which side I didn't know how to vote to go and ask Bush, as he was a very safe man. So, Nat, I'll go and hunt up Bush and come back and let you know."
    This was a knock-out blow for Nat, as Bush was the man, of all others, he did not want this member to meet, as he was considered the most active leader of the Salem forces.
    "Salem Clique" had been substituted for "Durhamites" by Dryer of the Oregonian, as before stated, when referring to the controlling element of the Democratic party, which was all-powerful at this time. The "Salem Clique" won in this second capital fight.
    As the Indian war in Eastern Washington was in progress at this time, the Indians near The Dalles, on the north side of the river, had commenced hostilities and had run off the settlers, including E. S. Joslyn, who was caring for a lot of cattle for me at White Salmon. I learned from him at Portland that they were now across the Simcoe mountains, which were covered with deep snow, so that it would be comparatively safe for us to go and look after the stock, and, if possible, move them to the south side of the river, which was considered safer from Indian attacks. I accordingly joined him at Portland, and we landed from the steamer Mary at White Salmon on Christmas eve. The weather turned very cold, a Cayuse or East wind prevailing. The Mary returned to the Cascades the next day, but the river froze and no more trips were made for a long time. We gathered up the cattle, and finding that they could not stand up on the slippery ice, we hauled on sand and made a trail across the river, but as soon as it was completed there came a strong Chinook or West wind and destroyed the ice so quickly that we had to abandon the undertaking, and barely had time to get to the south side of the river ourselves. I came on down to the Cascades, and made arrangements to have a scow taken up by the first steamer, when the river should be clear of ice. The scow was procured, and 26 head of cows I had sold to Jenkins & Benson, and a few head I had let Joslyn have, were crossed, but mine were left, and were run off by the Indians the following 6th day of March.
    I stopped over night with Colonel Ruckle, and as I could not cross the river on account of drifting ice, so as to take the trail on the north side, I took the south side. On the start my trip was hazardous, as I had to climb for some distance along the bluffs until I reached the house of a Mr. Levins, at which point a fishery was afterwards established. It took me a whole day to make this distance. The next morning I started out to make Sandy river, and to cross it, as there was no house on the east side of the river, which was occupied. I was told that I would reach Sandy at the delta, and could cross it where it was divided into two streams, and that no one lived near enough to come to my assistance, but that I could ford the stream easily. But I took a trail striking the stream higher up, where it was all together, i. e., about the delta, but, not knowing it, I waded into the stream and soon got into deep swift water, which I could not ford. On returning to the shore I discovered a canoe lying in the brush on the opposite bank. I sang out lustily, and was immediately answered, and kept on calling as I made rapid strides for the shore. A man came running rapidly, got into the canoe and poled with great haste to me, while I lost no time in donning my outside apparel, although it was soaking with cold water. The wind was blowing a gale down stream, and much thin ice, just forming, covered the water. I jumped into the canoe, but upon reaching the other shore I was so stiff with the cold that I was able to get out of the canoe only with the assistance of my rescuer. He then took hold of me and, making me go with all possible speed, took me to his cabin, in which there was a good bright fire. It was the home of Mr. Buxton and family. Giving me a warm suit of woolen underwear and a strong decoction of "hot stuff," containing cayenne pepper, No. 6, and perhaps other ingredients, and a cup of strong coffee, I was made sufficiently comfortable to eat my share of a good, well-cooked meal. I remained with them over night. Mr. Buxton provided me with a saddle horse to ride to Portland, but it was found that I was so nearly paralyzed that I could not mount even with the assistance of Mr. Buxton and another man. So a yoke of steers was hitched to a cart, in which was put a lot of straw, and an all day trip brought me to the east bank of the Willamet river. I paid the man who brought me, but neither Mr. Buxton nor his wife could be persuaded to take any pay for the great service they had rendered me. I have frequently thought of them, and of their kindness to a stranger, and felt that the world was much better for their having been here. At Mr. Buxton's I first learned of the burning of the capitol building at Salem, which occurred on the last day of the year, and I deeply regretted it, as it was said to have been the work of an incendiary, and, as a res­ident of Corvallis, I feared censure might turn toward her citizens. After returning to my home, I for a long time sought to ascertain if there were any reasons to believe that one of her people would have been likely to do such a thing, but was glad to learn that such suspicion was attached to none of her citizens, though the incident at this juncture was unfortunate. It was several days before I re­covered sufficiently from the effects of this trip so that I could walk without a cane, or canes, as I was compelled to use two of them, and with such aid could walk only on an even surface.   For years I felt the effects of this exposure, but after the lapse of 49 years, all indications of it have disappeared.

   
Chapter VI

    The removal of the capital again to Salem did not seriously affect the prosperity of Corvallis. The Statesman, of course, went with it, which might have had some effect upon the reputation of the town abroad, but, as it was never in sympathy with the people of Corvallis, its loss was not a cause of regret to them.
    The year of 1856 was an exciting one for Oregon and Washington. In addition to the war east of the mountains, and at the Cascades, and through the Sound country, war had again broken out in August, 1855, southern Oregon, and extended by the end of the year from the Canyon to California, reaching westward to the ocean. Hostilities appeared simultaneously at far distant points, indicating a general uprising of all the tribes of a vast region of country, leaving only the Willamet valley entirely free from attack, as some parts of the Umpqua valley were not unmolested. Many of the counties were called upon to send companies of volunteers to the seat of war in the south. A regiment for the south was raised in the southern counties of the Willamet and the Umpqua valleys. At that time the county of Umpqua comprised what is now the northern part of Douglas county, the dividing line being at Calapooia creek. John Kelsey, of Ben-ton county, was made Colonel, and W. W. Chapman, then of Umpqua county, Lieutenant Colonel. Corvallis was headquarters, having established there quartermaster and commissary offices in charge of assistants appointed by the head office at Salem.
    Numerous supplies were purchased, not only general supplies for the troops, but individual volunteers were permitted to go into the stores under an arrangement with the quartermaster and get all kinds of clothing. The prices charged were usually about double the cash selling price, as it was understood that it would probably be a long time before payment would be made. It was another case of greenbacks, but a quartermaster's voucher instead of the greenback. The question was not, as later in the Civil War, "when will the war be over and the government able to redeem?" but "will the government ever pay?" When peace came, and the horses, mules and cattle on hand were ordered sold at public auction under notice to purchasers that persons holding vouchers could turn them in at par for their purchases, there were numerous bidders and prices ranged high. Cattle that were worth for cash $100 per yoke were sold as high as $250 per yoke, and afterwards, when the amounts allowed by the government were paid in cash, it was found that those who held their scrip fared about as well as those who sold, so that no injustice was done by the transaction.
    The government decided to remove all the southern Indians to reservations, selected for the purpose, between the coast range of mountains and the ocean. Accordingly they were brought in and located on the Siletz reservation, in the western part of Ben-ton, now Lincoln county, and the Grande Ronde reservation, lying to the north of Siletz, and the cause of further Indian wars removed, as after years of bitter experience it was found that a war of extermination would have been carried on for years if whites and Indians occupied the same territory. A large number of whites had lost their lives, either in war or by massacres in times of peace, and the Indians claimed that they were safer during a state of open war than at intervals of alleged peace. When Chief John was asked at the council why he went to war he replied, "To save the lives of my people," saying that he "lost more of his people in one year of peace than two years of war." The fact is the peace treaties were not fully observed on either side. They were doubtless made in good faith and controlled most of the whites and Indians, while there were some of both races who, in such a country, could not be held in check, and it was found necessary to separate the races and plant the military in such positions as to be easily reached by the agents in charge, so as to prevent the first attempt at outlawry on either side.
    It was also found that an Indian agent had to possess qualities suited for the purpose. He had to have coolness and brains, and sufficient character to command the respect of the Indians, and the military had to be vigilant and see that white men were kept off the reservations.
    In the year 1857 Captain Auger built Fort Hoskins, 14 miles west of Corvallis. Lieutenant Phil Sheridan was his quartermaster and commissary, who frequently came to Corvallis in pursuance of his duties. The supplies for the camp were shipped from Portland by boat to Corvallis. Sheridan made me agent to receive and care for them. Accordingly when he came for them he stopped at my store, frequently remaining over night. He never would accept the offer of a bed, but preferred to sleep in the store on blankets spread on the counter. Later, however, I had it on the best authority that he became thoroughly cured of that camp life habit. General and Mrs. Sheridan years afterwards came to Portland and were given a reception by the Progress Club and many citizens had an opportunity of being presented to him and his accomplished wife.
    In 1857 another paper was established at Corvallis, more in sympathy with the active sponsors of the town, and called the Occidental Messenger. L. P. Hall, from California, took charge as editor. It came out boldly for slavery in Oregon, and also advocated it as a vital principle of politics. It held slavery to be a cardinal Democratic principle in theory, as well as for the well-being of Oregon as an institution. A new line of thought was sprung upon the public, and as Republicans were few in numbers at that time, it addressed itself with emphasis to the Democratic party, and demanded a solution. A majority of Democrats denied the claim made by the propagandists, and declared that neither slavery nor anti-slavery was a Democratic principle, and that each individual was free to vote according to his views, either for or against slavery, without affecting his standing in his party, and so resolved in their convention of 1857. At the election of that year Lane was again chosen delegate to Congress over George W. Lawson, an independent candidate. The delegates to the convention were elected at the same time the vote on the call for the convention was taken, which was decided by a majority of about 6000 out of less than 10,000 votes cast.
    The convention met August 18, 1857. It was in session one month, and framed a constitution to be voted upon on the second Monday in November of that year. The boundary of the state conformed to that of the territory, except that portion of Idaho east of Oregon, which was struck off, and an effort was made to include that portion of Washington lying south of the Snake river, now forming Walla Walla, Columbia, Garfield and Asotin counties, but Governor Stevens, at this time the delegate to Congress from Washington, vigorously opposed it, so that the permission of Congress was not obtained. The eastern part of Oregon cut off was made a part of Washington territory.
    The questions of slavery and the admission of free negroes were to be decided by separate clauses. From the adjournment of the convention until the election much discussion was had upon the slavery clause. The Occidental Messenger warmly advocated the adoption of the slavery clause. The Statesman admitted articles from both sides, requiring correspondents to sign their names to their contributions in order to receive publication.
    There were several arguments made through the press, but the most noticeable one I recall was from the pen of Judge George H. Williams, on the free state side of the question, which was considered at that time by the free state people as unanswerable, and gained him a great many friends; but later it proved somewhat in his way when a candidate before the legislature for the senate, as his anti-slavery views were objectionable to those favoring slavery. The slavery clause was defeated by a vote of more than three to one, and the free negro clause was defeated by a vote of about ten to one.
    Among all the leaders of -the Democratic party I can now recall but two prominent ones who were for slavery—Nesmith, Grover, Harding, Bush, Delazon Smith, in addition to Williams, and numbers of others, all being free state men. In 1858 Grover was elected to the House of Representatives, and Lane and Smith were elected Senators. As the state was not admitted until February 14, 1859, Oregon's first representative to Congress served only 17 days, and one of its Senators, Smith, the same length of time, while Lane's term was two years and 17 days. A special session was called by the Governor to convene in May to elect a Senator in place of Smith, whose term had expired, but it adjourned without effecting an election, and thus was inaugurated a precedent that has been followed with much persistency since.
    Owing to the divisions among Democrats, their candidate for Congress in 1859, Lansing Stout, was elected by a very narrow margin, and in the following year George K. Sheil was elected by a small majority. In both cases David Logan was the unsuccessful candidate.
    In the year 1858 I moved to Portland, and in the year i860 took some little part in politics there. Owing to the warring factions, it was evident that Democrats could hope to win only by uniting on some fair basis of co-operation. Judge Williams and A. C. Gibbs had moved there also about that time, and as Williams' views represented the views of those Democrats who voted for a free state, it was desired by them to elect him as one of the Senators at the next meeting of the legislature, and an effort was made to make up a ticket so as to include him as one of the Senators.
    Accordingly, Mr. Gibbs was put on the ticket for one of the members of the legislature, and Benjamin Stark, who favored Lane, was the other nominee, and thus both factions were represented and the ticket was elected.
    Before the legislature convened, however, the split at Charleston came, and two Democratic electoral tickets were in the field, and no further union of Democrats was possible. The legislature met, and while the Democrats had a decided majority, the factions could not be reconciled. Instead of this a coalition was made between the Douglas Democrats and the Republicans which resulted in the election of J. W. Nesmith for the long term and Colonel E. D. Baker for the short term. Nesmith was an old pioneer, had been an active member of the provisional government, had been superintendent of Indian affairs under the territorial government, and a Colonel during the Indian wars, and was a prominent Douglas Democrat; besides he had a personal following among the Republicans. Baker had come up from San Francisco in the spring and stumped the state for Logan for Congress. He was thoroughly well equipped for the position and was thought not to be very radical in politics, so that it was easier to make this combination than any other. He was a good stump speaker. It was told of him that, while making a speech at the courthouse in Lafayette, an ardent Democrat, possessing a very dark skin for a white man, after listening to Baker for some time, interrupted him and asked him if he was a black Republican. All Republicans were black Republicans in those days in the estimation of dyed-in-the-wool Democrats, with the accent on the black, as pronounced by them. Baker was a very white man, both his face and full head of hair being very white. His questioner was standing on a seat, so as to be plainly seen over the heads of the audience.
    Baker looked over the audience at him and replied: "Since you have called up the question of color, and we both are in full view of this audience, I am willing to leave it for the audience to decide which of us is the blacker man of the two." His friends pulled the questioner down and hid him from sight instantly, and the entire audience, Democrats as well as Republicans, joined in uproarious laughter. While he was always polite and affable to an interrupter, it was found that it was a good thing to let Colonel Baker alone while speaking. Delazon Smith canvassed the state for Breckinridge and made a very strong fight. There was no one who could make a more forcible speech. He had an excellent voice, and was a finished orator, and possessed the faculty of stirring up his audience to the highest pitch, and there are many persons now living in Oregon who will tell you that they have never heard his equal in the political arena. He died soon after the close of the campaign, mourned by many, even those who did not endorse his politics. An attempt of an eulogy to Baker would be superfluous, as we all know how he fell, at the head of his command at Ball's Bluff, on the Potomac, soon after taking his seat in the senate, in a manner honorable to himself and serviceable to his country.
    In September, i860, I moved my stock of goods from Portland to Walla Walla, and on the Saturday before the election in November returned to Portland to vote for Douglas, well knowing he had not a ghost of a show for an election. Many of his supporters, not wishing to lose their votes, as they termed it, and it being evident that the vote of Oregon would go to Lincoln or Breckinridge, dropped Douglas and voted for their preference as between the other candidates, and so Oregon cast her electoral votes for Lincoln, who led Breckinridge by a few votes.
    As it is not the purpose of the writer to give a history of Oregon, but only the personal recollections that it is thought may be of interest to others, he has purposely left out much of interest that transpired outside of his observations; in fact, much that belongs to the general history of the country. These recollections are confined to the locality of the writer at the time, but all to Oregon, that is, old Oregon—the Oregon to which he came in the year 1850. It then embraced all the country between California and British Columbia, and the Rocky Mountains and the Pacific ocean, and contained 13,294 white people, according to the United States census of 1850, principally confined to the Willamet valley, and many times that number of Indians. That Oregon now embraces Oregon, Washington, Idaho, and a very important part of Montana, all that portion lying west of the Rocky Mountains, in which is situated the most important mining camp on the globe, Butte, Montana, having a pay roll much larger than any other mining town, and also quite an area of southwestern Wyoming. It has an aggregate population of about one and one-half million of people, and possesses, in view of its already ascertained resources, sufficient wealth for an empire as large as the one over which Kaiser William proudly reigns. Fifty years shows an increase of more than a hundred fold in population, and many times that in productive wealth. What then will another 50 years accomplish?
    Men are living today in the strength of manhood who will live to see an empire in population and wealth embraced in the limits of the Oregon to which I came. Men here speak of the state of Washington as quite a different country, and Idaho and Montana as quite distant states, but to the old pioneer, and especially to me, they are all one—all parts of the old Oregon to which my heart is at¬tached. New people from the East are heard speaking of Oregon somewhat sneeringly, as if they were an entirely different people. Let them be reminded that they are a part of one people, that they are joint inheritors of what was won by those hardy pioneers, who crossed the desert plains and scaled the rugged mountains, and thereby established the right of America to the rich heritage which they now enjoy, and which forms an integral and an important part of this great and glorious country of ours.
    In this connection I wish to say that, in my judgment, no territory of the United States was ever settled by a people so well adapted to endure and overcome the hardships that beset the people of Oregon. And if those who came later, and those who are native to the soil of these states do as well their part as the pioneers did theirs, it will be well for the states that compose the Oregon which the pioneers established.
    Here is all honor to the pioneers! I am proud to be known as one of them, and have only pity for those who, coming in palace cars years later, there fore think they are for that reason superior to the pioneers who crossed the plains with ox teams, eating their "peck of dirt" perhaps many times over.

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