CHAPTER V

CHAPTER VPIONEER REMINISCENCESThis is a chapter of remembrances. The author has felt that the work would be incomplete without some space devoted to the personal experiences of those who made the history. Out of the vast amount of matter which might be available he has selected such narrations as cover the widest range and afford the greatest variety.Some of these selections are of early letters, the writers of which have long since passed away. A few were prepared originally for the Inland Empire Pioneer Association. The larger number have been written especially for this work by those who are still actively engaged in the affairs of the community. It is with the belief that this collection of actual experiences and observations will constitute a chapter of present interest to the pioneers and will be a source of ever-increasing pleasure and instruction to their descendants, that the author gives it a place as the crowning feature of the book.We first incorporate a letter by Doctor Whitman, never published before, significant of the life and conditions, as well as the habit of thought and mode of expression of that first stage in the history of Old Walla Walla. Doctor Whitman's letter gives a vivid view of the variety of interests with which he was concerned. It is as follows:Waiilatpu, September 29, 1845.Rev. Elkanah Walker.Dear Brother: I take a moment only to write as Mr. Eells is soon to be off.The first thing I have to say is, will you send Cyrus here to school this winter in case we have one, which we expect we may? I. W. Gilbert, formerly my day and Sabbath School scholar, has come up from the Willamet and will be likely to winter here, and most likely we may employ him to teach.If you send you may do well to come this way as you go to Lapwai [Mr. Walker was located at Tshimakain in the Spokane country] and leave Cyrus here.Few of the immigrants call on us.Four hundred and fifty wagons passed Fort Hall, but from seventy to one hundred went to California and one hundred left the trail at Malade to go to Waskopum. As they are so early they have no great need of provisions short of The Dalles. Most are now passed.Mr. Eells can tell you about Mr. Green's letter to me. We can now have little hope of a reinforcement. I do not think it best for me to say anything in relation to the subject hinted at in your first, but may at another time.I am trying to burn some coal [charcoal] in order to have a little work done in the shop. I hope also to get a millwright for a few days to set the sawmill at work.We would like scholars enough to take some of our time, the more the better. Mrs. Whitman is anxious also and more than willing to have as many as possible.With esteem and expectation of seeing you and letting you have a first rate article of corn meal, with our united compliments to you all.Yours truly,Marcus Whitman.A letter of an earlier date than that of Doctor Whitman, by one of the immigrants of 1843, is of great interest for a number of reasons. We give it here as containing the spirit of that first genuine American immigration, the one that sealed the American possession of Oregon.Waiilatpu, October 27, 1843.Jesse Looney to John C. Bond,Greenbush, Warren County, Ill.Dear Sir: I embrace the opportunity of writing to you from this far western country afforded me by the return of Lieutenant Fremont to the States this winter. He thinks he will be at Independence, Mo., by January next, which will be in time for those who intend coming next season to this country to get some information about the necessary preparations to be ready for the journey.It is a long and tiresome trip from the States to this country, but the company of emigrants came through safely this season to the number of 1000 persons with something over 100 wagons to this place, which is 250 miles east of the Willamet Valley, and, with the exception of myself and a few others, have all gone on down there, intending to go through this winter if possible. About half of them have traded off their stock at Walla Walla, twenty-five miles below here [he means the Hudson's Bay fort] and are going by water. The balance went on by land to the Methodist Mission, 175 miles below this, intending to take to the water there.I have stopped here in the Walla Walla Valley to spend the winter, in order to save my stock. This is a fine valley of land, excellent water, good climate, and the finest kind of pine timber on the surrounding mountains, and above all a good range for stock both summer and winter. The Indians are friendly and have plenty of grain and potatoes, and a good many hogs and cattle. The missionaries at this and other missions have raised fine crops of wheat, corn, potatoes, etc., so that provisions can be procured here upon as good or better terms than in the lower settlements at present. Cattle are valuable here, especially American cattle. Things induced me to stop here for the winter, save my stock and take them down in the spring.In preparing for the journey of Rocky Mountains, you cannot be too particular in choice of a wagon. It should be strong in every part and yet it should not be very heavy. The large size, two-horse Yankee wagons are the most substantial wagons I have seen for this trip. You should haul nothing but your clothing, bedding and provisions. Goods are cheaper here than in the States. Let your main load be provisions—flour and bacon. Put in about as much loadinging as one yoke of cattle can draw handily, and then put on three good yoke of cattle and take an extra yoke for change in case of failure from lameness or sore necks, and you can come without any difficulty. The road is good, much better than we had expected, but is long. Bring all the loose cattle you can, especially milk cows and heifers. Do not attempt to bring calves. They will not come through, and by losing them you will be in danger of losing their mothers.I cannot urge you too strongly to be sure to bring plenty of provisions; don't depend on the game you may get. You may get some and you may not. It is uncertain. We were about five months on the way to this place, and I had plenty of flour, etc., to do me, but most of the company were out long before they got here, and there is little or nothing in the way of provisions to be had at the forts on the way. I would advise you to lay in plenty for at least five months, for if you get out on the way you will have trouble to get any till you get here. I would advise you to start as soon as the grass will admit. We might have started near a month sooner than we did, and then would have been here in time to have gone through with our cattle this winter. We left Independence, Mo., the 22d of May and we are just about a month too late. Myself and family were all sick when we left and continued till we left Blue River, and the rain and wind, but when we reached the highlands along the Platte we began to mend. My health is better than for years, and so far as I have seen this country I think it is very healthy. There was five or six deaths on the road, some by sickness and some by accident, and there were eight or ten births. Upon the whole we fared much better than we expected. We had no interruptions from the Indians. Our greatest difficulty was in crossing rivers. Mrs. L. says prepare with good strong clothing or sage brush will strip you.This shrub is very plenty, and was hard on our teams, especially those that went before, but it will not be so bad on those that come next year, for we have left a plain, well beaten road all the way. I will have a better opportunity of giving you accounts of this country next spring, and I want you to write the first chance and to direct to the settlement of Willamet.So no more, but remain,Your brother till death,Jesse Looney.In connection with these letters dealing with the mission at Waiilatpu and the immigration of 1843, we wish to include two of much interest, not hitherto published, both dealing with Doctor Whitman. These are letters of much later date than the preceding, though pertaining to the times of the mission.The first of these is by Perrin Whitman to W. H. Gray. Perrin Whitman lived many years at Lewiston and was well known in all that region.Letter from Perrin Whitman to W. H. Gray:Lapwai Station, October 11, 1880.About the 20th of April, 1843, I left Rushville, Yates County, N. Y., with Dr. Marcus Whitman (my uncle) for Oregon. I distinctly remember of his telling his mother and friends that his visit with them would be necessarily short, as he had on his way east from Oregon, notified all who were desirous ofemigrating to Oregon to rendezvous at Westport and Independence, Mo., and that he would pilot them with their wagons across the Rocky Mountains to the Columbia River. The immigration, consisting of about one hundred and twenty wagons, left the Missouri line about the last of May and reached Waiilatpu (Walla Walla Valley) about the 5th of the following September.The doctor piloted them the whole distance, as he had promised to do. Gen. J. C. Fremont (at that time a lieutenant) arrived at Waiilatpu with his Government train across the plains a few weeks after the arrival of our immigration.Doctor Whitman's trip east in the winter of 1842 and '43 was for the double purpose of bringing the immigration across the plains, also prevent, if possible, the trading off of this northwest coast to the British Government. I learned from him that the Mission Board censured him in strong terms for having left his missionary duty and engaged in another so foreign from the one they had sent him to perform. While crossing the plains I repeatedly heard the doctor express himself as being very anxious to succeed in opening a wagon road across the continent to the Columbia River, and thereby stay, if not entirely prevent, the trade of this northwest coast, then pending between the United States and the British Government.In after years the doctor with much pride and satisfaction reverted to his success in bringing the immigration across the plains and thought it one of the means of saving Oregon to his Government. I remained with him continuously till August, 1847, when he sent me to The Dalles. He was murdered the following November.The above statement is correct and true, so help me God.P. B. Whitman.The next letter is from Judge O. S. Pratt, the territorial judge who presided at the trial of the Indians implicated in the Whitman massacre. It was addressed to Mrs. Catherine Sager Pringle, one of the adopted children of Doctor Whitman, evidently in response to inquiries for information.While the facts which it states might be known from other sources, it is of much interest as a summary of the permanent views of Judge Pratt upon the life and character of Doctor Whitman.San Francisco, March 4, 1882.Dear Madam: In my reply to your letter of January 20th last, I wrote you I thought the late Doctor Whitman was born in Ontario County, N. Y. I said I would soon know as I had just written to a friend who had the means of knowing the doctor's birthplace and would be likely to send me exact information on the subject. In reply to a letter, which I caused to be written to Mrs. Henry F. Wisewell, residing at Naples in Ontario County, N. Y., who is the doctor's sister and the only surviving member of his father's family, I received today, under date of February 22, 1882, an answer dictated by her, stating that "Marcus Whitman was born in Rushville, Ontario County, N. Y., September 4, 1802—the county then being very wild and new. In infancy he narrowly escaped death by burning, his cradle having taken fire from a brand falling out of the fireplace, when left alone. His father died in April, 1810; the same fall the son was sent to Plainfield, Mass., to live with his grandparents. He then attended school and returned to Rushville when eighteen years old. At thelatter place he studied medicine and received a diploma at the Fairfield (N. Y.) Medical College. He thereafter practiced medicine a short time in Canada, and afterwards for a few years near his native place. The Rev. Mr. Parker of Ithaca, N. Y., while preaching in the interior of that state on behalf of the Northwestern Indians, became acquainted with Doctor Whitman; and the latter having become deeply interested in Mr. Parker's efforts, first went with him to explore Oregon in the spring of 1835, and returned to his native village about Christmas of the same year, bringing with him two Indian boys. They were sent to school and learned rapidly and were soon able to read well and write legibly."In February, 1836, the doctor married Miss Narcissa Prentiss, a resident of Prattsburg, N. Y., and not far from his native village, who, with the doctor and the Rev. and Mrs. Spalding and the Indian boys, left April, 1836, for Oregon, their mission field, traveling west of the Mississippi, with pack horses and mules. Mrs. Whitman and Mrs. Spalding are understood to have been the first white women who ever crossed the Rocky Mountains. The doctor thereafter returned but once, starting October 7, 1842, and reached New York April 2, 1843, having suffered many hardships by the way, sleeping for the most part on the ground, and being at one time without food five days, and in his greatest extremity was compelled to kill his dogs to sustain life. From New York, before visiting his family, he hurried to Washington on his mission with the Government, which was to secure, if possible, Oregon to the United States. Not long afterwards he returned to his home west of the Rocky Mountains, and was, as is well known, massacred with his wife and others by the Indians, November 29, 1847."I trust the foregoing, which may rightly be treated as authentic, will leave no uncertainty as to the birthplace and some of the important facts connected with the history of the late Doctor Whitman's useful life.Respectfully yours,O. S. Pratt.Turning now from the letters to special contributions we will first present one dealing with the Cayuse war, following the great tragedy at Waiilatpu. This contains the personal experience of W. W. Walter, an immigrant to the Walla Walla country of 1859. He lived many years near Prescott. This article was written from his dictation by his daughter, Mrs. Pettyjohn.CAYUSE INDIAN WARBy W. W. WalterIn December, 1847, word reached the settlements in Oregon that the Cayuse Indians had killed Doctor Whitman and wife and twelve others. A runner carried the word to Vancouver, and a messenger was at once dispatched to Oregon City to Governor Abernethy, while Peter Skeen Ogden, factor of the Hudson's Bay Company, with a small company of Hudson's Bay men set out at once for the scene of the massacre—where he accomplished his wonderful work of ransoming the white captives held by the Indians."No other power on earth," says Joe Meek, the American, "could haverescued those prisoners from the hands of the Indians." And no man better than Mr. Meek understood the Indian character, or the Hudson's Bay Company's power over them.The Oregon Legislature was in session when the message from Vancouver arrived, telling of the massacre. A call was made at once for fifty riflemen to proceed at once to The Dalles—to guard the settlements below from an invasion of the Indians. This company was known as the "First Oregon Riflemen."Word came that the Cayuse Indians were coming to kill all the settlers in Oregon, and it was deemed best to meet the hostiles on their own ground.After the first fifty men had started for The Dalles, five companies of volunteers were organized. I went from Tualatin County (now Washington) in Capt. Lawrence Hall's company of volunteers—every man furnishing his own horse and equipment—every one who could contribute a gun, or a little powder and lead—that was the way we got our munitions of war.We rendezvoused at Portland, awaiting marching orders, which were given about January 1, 1848. We were in Portland a week or more, and I remember myself and some other lads made a ride back to the Plains to attend a dance—Christmas week.About January 1, 1848, we started for the Cayuse Country, three hundred men, all told—we marched across the country and ferried over the Columbia at Vancouver. There the Hudson's Bay Company let us have a cannon, and it was an elephant on our hands.From Vancouver we traveled up the north side of the Columbia (dragging that old cannon along) to a place above the Cascades where we built a ferry boat and crossed the river again to the south side and followed up the trails to the Dalles. We still kept our cannon, making portages with it, and at the Dalles mounted the thing on a wagon. The fifty men stationed there to hold the Mission were greatly annoyed by the Indians, and just after we arrived a report was brought in that there were hostile Indians up the Deschutes River, and two of our men on horse guard were decoyed by the Indians and killed. It happened thus: The Indians stripped their horses and let them graze near the guards, giving the impression they were loose horses. Our men thought them their own horses and went after them, when the Indians, who were concealed in the grass with ropes on their horses, fired and killed the two men. Those were the first men killed in the war.So when we heard of the Indians up the Deschutes we were anxious for a fight and started for them. The battleground was at the mouth of Tygh Creek on the ridge where we, as emigrants, had come down the Deschutes hill two years before. We met the Indians early in the morning. The first we knew of their whereabouts we saw them formed in line on the front of a high hill. To reach them we had to climb that hill, facing their fire. We left our horses and took it afoot up that hill, but they did not stand long—we soon routed them—we had but one man wounded. We followed up with continuous firing on both sides—then we had our horses brought up and gave chase. As the country was level on top the hill we followed them five or six miles—they outstripped us, as they had splendid fresh horses; we skirmished all that day—camped on the hill at night, then the next day followed on until we reached their deserted camp. There we found a very old and feeble Indian man and woman—too old to travel. They weredeserted and alone, with a little pile of food lying by them. They refused to talk, so we learned nothing from them—so we left them undisturbed and returned to the Dalles, where we fitted up some old emigrant wagons and got some emigrant cattle and Mission cattle, and made up a train of wagons to haul what little supplies we had with us. We now started for the upper country, following the old emigrant road.We had our next encounter with the Indians at Wells Springs between Willow Creek and Butter Creek. We camped there for the night—in the morning we had just gotten out of camp when we began to see Indians—Indians in every direction, in squads of ten and fifty, just coming thick. There were enough of them to eat up our little band of three hundred. We went only about a mile and a half when Col. Gilliam called a halt and we began preparations for a fight.It was estimated over one thousand Indians were on the ground. A party of chiefs came out and called for a talk. Col. Gilliam, Tom McKay, Charlie McKay and Mungo, the interpreter, went out to meet them. When they met it was learned there were Indians from all the northern tribes besides the Cayuses. There were Coeur d'Alenes, Flatheads, Pend d'Oreilles and Spokanes.The Cayuses had sent runners to all the different tribes telling them the Whites in Oregon had killed all the Catholics and Hudson's Bay men who were friends to these Northern Indians—they told them they had killed Tom McKay, their best friend, and were now coming to kill them and take their country. But when an old chief met the commission, he saw and recognized old Tom McKay and knew then they had been deceived and asked an explanation.When Tom McKay, who was intimately acquainted with those northern Indians, and whose influence over them exceeded that of any other man in the country, told them the true story and that they were only up there to punish the murderers of Dr. Whitman and people, the old Flathead chief promised to take no part and to draw off all except the Cayuses. When the haughty Cayuse chief, named Grey Eagle, heard this he was so enraged he turned on McKay and said, "I'll kill you, Tom McKay," and drew his gun to fire, but McKay was too quick for him and fired first, killing the chief.Grey Eagle was a great medicine man, and had boasted he could swallow all the bullets fired at him and McKay shot him in the mouth. As the Indians turned to run, Charlie McKay shot Five Crows, breaking his arm, but he escaped. It will be remembered he was the Indian who held captive a girl from the Mission. Five Crows, however, shot the powder horn off McKay, so you can see they were in pretty close quarters.We boys gave McKay great credit for the service he done us—for our little band of three hundred looked pretty small compared with the foe.Now, the battle was fairly on. The Northern Indians drew off on a hill and the Cayuses made a dash on us, about six hundred strong, all well mounted, riding in a circle and firing whenever a chance came. The Indians never left their horses—if they dismounted, the horse was fastened to the rider. When an Indian was killed we would always find the horse standing by his fallen rider, usually tied by the hair rope to his wrist.(The horse rode by Grey Eagle was a beautiful gray, and McKay's son Alec rode him many years.) The fight lasted the whole day long—that cannon that had caused so much vexation of spirit was of but little use, as the Indians scatteredso—it was fired a few times at a squad of Indians at long range—it served more to terrorize them than to kill, as it made a tremendous noise and they no doubt thought it great medicine. It was an impressive sight to see those hundreds of Northern Indians, splendidly mounted and armed after the Indian fashion, sitting on their horses at one side all day long, watching the progress of the fight. What a picture that would have made!We camped that night on the battleground, but the next morning the Indians were gone. I think neither side could claim a victory. As we traveled that day Indians kept in sight all day, but did not interfere with us until we reached the Mission at Waiilatpu, where we performed the sad duty of gathering up the remains of the martyrs and burying them. We found parts of bodies lying around, scattered about. We found a skull with a tomahawk wound in it—we supposed it was that of Mrs. Whitman. We also found locks of her beautiful yellow hair in the yard. It was taken to Oregon City and placed among the Oregon State Documents.We made a sort of stockade by building a wall breast high of adobe from the old buildings—also built a corral for the horses by placing rails end in the ground, and corraled the horses every night and guarded them by day. We slaughtered what cattle we could find and jerked the meat so we would have supplies in case we were corraled by the Indians. We subsisted on Indian and Mission cattle—no bread.After getting settled in camp, parts of two companies, myself one of the number, escorted Joe Meek and his party to the snow line of the Blue Mountains as he started on his famous trip across the continent at midwinter, as an agent from Oregon, to ask protection of the United States Government for the suffering settlers in the wilds of Oregon. He was accompanied by Squire Ebberts and Nat Bowman, both mountain men, and three others. So we left the little party to pursue their journey amid untold perils while we returned to Fort Waters, as the Mission was now called. This was in February. About the first of March about eighty-five or ninety men were called to go out on a raid to gather up what cattle we could and learn what we could of the whereabouts of the hostiles. My company went, as we were the best mounted men in the command. Not thinking to be gone long, we rode light and took no provisions.We traveled what was long known as the Nez Perces trails, cross the country to Copeii, where we were met by two friendly Indians. They told as the Cayuses were camped at the mouth of Tucanon. Our interpreter, Mungo, said he could pilot us there. We concluded to hunt them up.So at dark we started going down Copeii, then across the country to Tucanon to where Starbuck now is. There we crossed and followed down the creek, reaching the encampment just at break of day. Just as we crossed Tucanon we ran onto an Indian guard, but he got away and ran to camp—so when we got near camp two Indians came out with a white flag. I will state here that runners had been sent with word that if friendly Indians would raise a flag of truce they would not be molested, as we were only seeking to punish the Cayuses. So when they sent out the flag and asked for a talk, Col. Gilliam went forward. They claimed to be Palouses and friendly to the Whites. Said the Cayuses had gone across Snake River, but had left lots of stock behind which they would turn over to the volunteers, and that they would go out and gather them in for us.So they began running in horses and cattle, we helping—and all went merrily along. However, we soon noticed the lodges going down as by magic and the boys on the hill saw them busily ferrying their families over the river, and asked why they were moving. They said their women were afraid of the Whites and wished to go. So by their cunning manœuvres they had detained us half a day, and we, without any food since the early morning before, were beginning to feel pretty hungry.When they had delivered up all the stock, Col. Gilliam said we would drive out to grass and camp and eat. So we started out, but soon discovered we had been duped the worst way. They were the Cayuses—even the real murderers were there, and they were after us. Now there was no thought of eating. Indians on every side, yelling like demons, calling us women—afraid to fight. It was a running fight all day long and we were still holding the stock at night—in McKay Hollow, where we strung along the little hollow seeking shelter from the Indians by hiding behind the banks. We did not dare kindle a fire. On examination it was found thirty volunteers were wounded, but not dangerously. Our ammunition was about exhausted and we were half famished.The older men and officers evidently realized we were in a pretty serious predicament, but we young boys had no idea of the danger we were in, not as I see it now. During the night Gilliam ordered the stock turned loose—as we were now about out of ammunition he hoped by turning the stock loose to get rid of the Indians. The boys objected to that move, but instead of the Indians leaving us that only renewed their courage. They thought we were giving up, and attacked us more savagely than ever. We were pretty well hidden and in no immediate danger, so we saved our ammunition and only fired when sure of an Indian—they frequently came in range when circling around us. In the morning they still hung on our heels. As we started out they followed us on—calling to Mungo repeatedly, asking why we did not stop to fight, while he abused them in return.The Indians would drop behind until a bunch of us were a distance from the command, then make a dash, trying to cut us off, and we surely were not cautious. Tom Cornelius, Pete Engart and myself were a little behind when an Indian shot Engart in the calf of the leg. He fell from his horse, saying he was killed. Tom and I jumped from our horses and shook him up and told him he was not hurt—he gave up. We finally threw him up astride his horse—we cursed him and told him to ride—and he rode. By this time the Indians were on us and the boys ahead had not missed us. I tell you we made a race for it, one of us on each side of the wounded man, but we made it.Another time that day Mungo's horse was shot from under him. Tom Cornelius and I saw him fall and ran back to him. He had stopped to take his saddle—we were just in time, as the Indians were coming pell-mell, shouting, "We've got Mungo." I took Mungo behind me and Tom took his saddle and away we went. This was the way we were at it all the way, some one in close quarters all the time.Mungo told the Cayuses we would fight when we reached the Touchet and got water. Then began the race for the first stand at the Touchet. The Indians beat us on the lower side, but we headed them off above the ford. Some Indians hid in the brush and shot at our men as they passed on the trail. We weretrying to get our wounded men across, but the Indians were killing horses and men. I was in the company up the creek. When we came down, Col. Gilliam told Lieut. Engart to rout those ambushed Indians. Engart called for volunteers to go in after them. I was one with twenty others. We started for the hiding place, skirting along the brush, expecting any minute to run on them. When we did find them, not more than five or six of us were together in the lead, and the Indians were firing at another squad of men some distance away—we were within thirty feet of them. I fired and hit my Indian just as he turned to run, striking him in the back of the head. He fell and I stepped back behind a bush to reload, when another man ran in and stood in my place; as he did so the Indian rolled over and fired at him, killing him. Just then Nate Olney, an old Indian fighter, ran in with a tomahawk and made a good Indian of him. He scalped him and I carried the grewsome trophy at my saddle horn when I returned home. We killed about sixty Indians there. It was hard to make an estimate of how many, as they carried their dead away unless too hard pressed.All during this battle the chief sat on his horse on the rocky point just above Bolles Junction [the present junction] and gave command and encouragement in a loud and stentorian voice. He could be heard for miles. Finally a bullet sped his way and he was killed—and he being the medicine man, the battle ceased and a council was called. We were now across the Touchet. We were carrying our wounded men on litters made by stretching blankets on willow poles—taking turns carrying—that was a hard job. As we began to climb the hill beyond the Touchet we heard the Indians let up their death-wail—they were gathered together on those low hills just north the Bolles Junction depot.We traveled on to Dry Creek that day; there we went into camp and spying some Indian horses on the prairie, myself with some others ran in a bunch, near some brush where some of our men were hidden, and as they passed, shot two. That was the first horse meat I had tried to eat, but it made me sick—though they were young unbroken horses. I was sure they tasted of the saddle blanket—suggestion, I suppose. When we woke next morning there was four or five inches of snow on our blankets—we had no tents.A runner had been sent on to the Mission and a wagon sent out for our wounded men. My bunkie and I got up early, mounted our horses and rode on to the Mission that morning. The boys soon were preparing provisions for the famishing troops, but after starving so long the smell of food cooking made me sick and I could not eat until the next morning. Some of the boys were so ravenous they had to be restrained or they would have killed themselves eating.Now we laid around camp, getting into mischief, and I learned to smoke. The only regular rations issued us was tobacco—and the smokers seemed to take such comfort in the pipe, I too indulged.When we came into the Indian country Gilliam told us we could have any Indian horses we captured. I was pretty handy with a rope and got away with three head from the battle at the Touchet. One, a fine horse rode by a chief, I was particularly proud of. A big burly Dutchman in another company also coveted that horse, so one morning he put his rope on him and led him into camp. I at once claimed the horse and proceeded to make good my claim. He resisted and we got into a "scrap"; he had friends, so had I. All took sides—it was decided we fight for possession; the winner to get him. That suited me all right—soat it we went. Men say it was a hard fight, but I won and took the horse to lead him off, when an under officer, a friend of the Dutchman, stepped up and took hold of the rope, saying, "I'll take this horse." I was only a boy of nineteen years, but I did not intend to give up the horse without a struggle, and was considering the consequences of hitting an officer when Colonel Gilliam walked unobserved into the ring, cut the rope behind the officer's hand, handed the rope to me and walked away without a word. I tell you I was the proudest boy in that camp—and after the colonel was gone I could not resist crowing at the Dutchman in true boy fashion. This is just an example of how justice was meted out in the army of volunteers.In the spring about two hundred recruits came. We now numbered about five hundred men. Then a party set out for north of Snake River to hunt Indians. I was with the company. We crossed the Snake at the mouth of the Palouse—we made a camp at Little Falls—were at Big Lake on Cow Creek and all over the upper country, but failed to find any number of Indians. We fired a few shots at stragglers now and then, but had no regular engagement. The Cayuse warriors had scattered about among other tribes, many going over the mountains to wait until the soldiers left the country.A detachment of men was sent to Walker's Mission, called Tshimakain, where Walker and Eells and their families were located as missionaries among the Spokanes. We got the families and brought them back with us. We came back across country, crossing Snake River at the mouth of Alpowa Creek to an Indian encampment known as Red Wolf's Land—then we returned to Waiilatpu. This expedition went out the first of May. Sometime in June we began our return trip to Oregon, having been out about six months.I remember while camped in the Umatilla country I was breaking an Indian horse to ride—and he would throw himself whenever I mounted. I had become pretty mad at his persistence in lying down, so concluded to tie him down until he would be willing to stand up. I did so and left him close to camp—but in the morning I was minus a horse—the wolves had eaten him up. We had much to learn in those days.On this trip Colonel Gilliam was killed accidentally. In pulling a gun from a wagon it caught in a rope and was discharged, killing him. He was a good man and a good officer, well liked by all his men, as he was a friend to all.We arrived at Oregon City a few days before the Fourth of July. The Governor rode out and reviewed the troops, as we were on parade. Every man had his horse decked out in Indian trappings and we were as wild as a band of Indians. Crowds of people had gathered to welcome us home. The Governor made us a short talk and dismissed us. Thus ended the organization of Oregon's First Mounted Volunteers—we all scattered out to our homes.—Thus ends Mr. Walter's article.Another of the pioneers of '59 was W. S. Gilliam, son of the Colonel Gilliam referred to in Mr. Walter's article. Mr. Gilliam was one of the most honored and useful of Walla Walla's pioneers. A number of years ago he prepared a contribution for the Pioneer Association which we are presenting here. We are making selections on account of the length of the article. The first pertains tothe journey across the plains in 1844, and gives a view of some of the interesting events there:"The next morning a sight opened up to us that can never be seen again by mortal man. As far as the eye could reach up the valley of the South Platte and as far on the bluffs as we could see was black with buffaloes. The quantity of the buffaloes was one thing that the early travelers could not exaggerate."Under the guidance of Mr. Sublette we struck across the country from the last mentioned camp to the North Platte. In the course of the day we descried a large band of buffaloes under full headway, making directly for the train. We hastily gathered our guns and put ourselves in position, and as soon as the head of the herd came in shooting distance we commenced firing on them and succeeded as we thought, luckily, in turning them around the rear of the train. I think I may safely say that while we were in the buffalo country we were hardly ever out of sight of the animals."We struck the North Platte the next day and traveled up the stream most of the way to Fort Laramie, where we laid by a day. We met Mr. Joseph Walker here, who was a noted mountaineer and also an old friend of my father's. He happened to be going our way as far as Fort Bridger and made a very acceptable guide for us."The day we laid by I was taken with a very violent fever and remember but little that happened till we got to Sweet Water, where I became convalescent. I remember seeing Independence Rock, covered with names innumerable, and the Devil's Gate, where the river had cut its way through a hill, leaving perpendicular banks perhaps a hundred feet high and a gorge not any wider than the stream."We followed up Sweet Water several days to a point where we left it to our right and took into the South Pass across the Rocky Mountains. After a moderate day's travel we camped at the Pacific Springs, the first water that we had encountered that flowed westward. I remember that we felt quite jubilant over the affair and thought that this was quite a circumstance in our journey. In passing over the country from here to Fort Bridger we crossed the two Sandies, Green River, and Ham's Fork. We stopped a day at the fort and next day, it being the first day of September, we started a northerly course across the country to Bear River. We followed down this stream to the Soda Springs, which was a great wonder to us. On an area of perhaps one hundred acres hundreds of springs boiled up, many in the bed of the river."Following this is an estimate of Captain Grant, the Hudson's Bay commandant at Fort Hall. As the character of Captain Grant has been the subject of controversy, the views of Mr. Gilliam have much interest:"We camped here and next morning when we started we left the river, and after traveling some sixty or seventy miles we reached Fort Hall, then a Hudson's Bay Company trading post, where Mr. Grant was chief factor. Here a circumstance occurred that has caused me through life to regard Grant as a bad hearted man. Peter H. Burnett, a noted man of the previous emigration, had written a letter of instruction and encouragement and sent it to Grant with instructions that he should read it to the emigrants when they reached Fort Hall. When we arrived there the letter was called for and Grant read it to us. It was a very welcome note, giving us useful instructions about the route and strong encouragementabout the country we were going to. But you can hardly conceive of the barrels of cold water he poured onto Mr. Burnett's words of encouragement. The circumstances were such that such a proceeding was of no profit or benefit to him or the company he was serving, for it was next to impossible for us to turn back. We were from the very nature of our situation compelled to go ahead, and he well knew that his discouragement could avail nothing towards stopping us. I have never been able to regard him as a good man."A retrospect by Mr. Gilliam, and an account of settlement in the Willamette Valley contains matter of interest:"It may be well enough to take a retrospect of things as they were then and compare them with things as they are now. We traveled through the territory that now constitutes the states of Kansas, Nebraska, Wyoming, Utah, Idaho and well through Oregon, and in all this vast region we did not find one single home, unless you, by a strained construction, call a mission or trading post a home. There were a thousand miles of this journey, which required six months to perform it. We stood guard to protect our lives and property from hostile Indians. This being the year that Polk was elected president, the earliest news that we got of it was in July following, and we considered ourselves rather fortunate in getting it thus early; it having come by ship, when in fact we did not expect to get it until the arrival of the emigrants in the fall. When a presidential election occurs now if we do not get the news the next day we feel that we are unfortunate in being deprived of the news so long."I took my first trip back three years ago. I was three days in making it, and on the route found two large cities, Salt Lake and Denver, and seemingly happy homes everywhere, and made the trip in a comfortable manner that was undreamed of in those early days."Well, to return. We wintered where the town of Cornelius now stands, about eighty rods south of the depot, with Messrs. Waters and Emerick, who were keeping batch at that time. The winter was very mild, which impressed us very favorably with the climate."In February father went up the country to select a land claim. I think his was the first claim taken south of the Rickreall. The town of Dallas stands on part of it. He came back with a glowing account of the country he had seen and particularly of the place that he had selected for a home. So we got ready and as early in March as traveling was good we started for our new home. We arrived there the 16th of March, it being Sunday. The whole country was a natural park, and, combined with the ideal spring day that we reached there, made it seem to me like dreamland."We went to work in good earnest building a log cabin, but before we could complete it we were overtaken by the equinoctial storm, which gave us some very serious discomfort. The next thing to do was to put in some garden and sow some wheat. Will say that nature gave us a bountiful yield in both field and garden."During this season we suffered some privations in food. For instance, at times we had to substitute boiled wheat for bread. It is hardly necessary to say that we did not do this from choice, but having plenty of wild meat, milk and butter, we could have a meal that would hardly pass muster now, but I can assure you that a person would be a long time starving to death on it. We neverhad any shortage of breadstuffs after the first season, for there was a grist-mill built in the immediate neighborhood the next year, where we could get flour any time."Mr. Gilliam's brief reference to Dr. Whitman is of special value:"A large share of the immigrants who wintered at Dr. Whitman's during the season settled in our immediate neighborhood and I learned a great deal about the Doctor's character from them. It seemed as if he had made a deep impression on them, for they talked a great deal about him, and from their talk I came to have a high regard for him. They told me that he would come home from Wallula, a distance of twenty-five miles, before breakfast, or if necessary go up to where they were building the sawmill, a distance of eighteen miles, before breakfast. In fact, his energy seemed to have no bounds and no obstacle with him seemed insurmountable. It was this summer of 1845 that he visited Willamette Valley and while there he called on my father, and as it happened I was away from home and therefore failed to see him, a circumstance that I have always regretted, more especially since he has become such an important figure in history."The portraiture of early conditions in the Willamette, reference to his father's death, gold discovery, and then settlement in the Walla Walla country follow:"The immigration of 1847 brought from Washington City father's appointment as postal agent with instructions from the Post Office Department concerning the same. On a recent visit with my sister at Dallas, Ore., who has all the papers, I had the pleasure of inspecting them anew. I found them queer reading from our standpoint."In the fall of 1847 father disposed of the place we settled on and moved up the country about twelve miles and bought a place on Pedee. This fall one of my sisters married. In the meantime some Indians had become acquainted with us and were living in the immediate neighborhood. They took some interest in the wedding and were very curious to know what her husband gave for her, it being their custom to sell their daughters into marriage. They were surprised beyond measure when told that she was given to him."It was November of this year that the Whitman massacre occurred. Father was at once notified that he was requested to take command and of the volunteers that were to be raised to march against the hostile Indians. He left home abruptly early in December, never to return. His death was the heaviest blow that has ever befallen me."The next year was one long to be remembered in Oregon. It was the year of the discovery of gold in California. It was late in August that reports of the discovery began to reach Oregon. They reported the mines to be so rich that at first they were discredited; but they were soon confirmed in such a way as to relieve all doubts. It would be hard to exaggerate the excitement that was raised upon the confirmation of the news. In fact, it would be hard to excite a community in any other way to the pitch ours was on this occasion, more especially when we consider how small it was. Everybody that could get away dropped their business and left. My brother-in-law and I rigged ourselves out with a saddle horse and pack-horse apiece and started. We had to travel through the Rogue River and Klamath countries in considerable bands to protect ourselves against the hostile Indians, but by the time we got to where it was dangerous we had fallen inwith plenty of company, so we had no trouble on that score. We passed through the hostile country without being attacked or having any horses stolen. In fact, to me it was a trip that afforded me some of the keenest kind of pleasure, new scenery every day and some of it, Mt. Shasta, for instance, was of the grandest kind. It was the first time I had left the parental roof."When we got well into the Sacramento Valley, just after we had struck camp, an acquaintance rode into camp with his pack-horse and proceeded to camp with us. He had a thrilling story to tell of his previous night's experience. It seemed that the company he traveled with through the hostile country were highly disagreeable to him, so when they reached the Sacramento Valley, where the Indians were friendly, he tore himself away from it and was traveling alone. During the first day of his lone travel he bought a salmon of the Indians. When he camped that night he cooked part of the salmon for supper and laid the balance within a few feet of where he made his bed. After retiring, while looking out into the increasing gloom, he saw an approaching form that looked as large as a covered wagon. His bearship, for such it was, very coolly and unconcernedly appropriated the remainder of the salmon and sat down within a few feet of him and quietly ate it. After eating he still sat there, seeming to ponder on what to do next. In the meantime the campfire got into the dry grass and burnt towards where Mr. Bear was sitting. When it got unpleasantly near him he slowly moved away and disappeared. Some Indians were at the camp in the morning and were shown the track. They assured him the best they could that he was very fortunate in not being served up for a supper for Mr. Bear. When he reached our camp and narrated the circumstance he remarked that he had concluded that he would not camp alone any more."I went into the mines and worked with only fair success until late next spring, when I became homesick, and not appreciating the opportunities as I would have in later life, I returned home, where I arrived the 16th of June, 1849."After resting a few days I visited a camp meeting that was in progress near Salem. I had visited the meeting at the same grounds the year before. I was very forcibly impressed with the difference in the dress of the people in the two years. The first year, before California had poured her wealth of gold into the country, the people were dressed in very plain pioneer style, the men in buckskin pants with the balance of the suit corresponding, the women in calicoes and muslin. But this year it was very evident that they had freely availed themselves of the privilege that the great quantity of gold that had found its way to Oregon gave them to improve their attire, for in the case of the men broadcloth had taken the place of buckskin, and in the women silks and satins had replaced calico and gingham."In 1851 there was a vacancy in the sheriff's office and I was appointed by the county commissioners to fill the vacancy. During my incumbency, in the discharge of my duty as sheriff, it fell to my lot to execute a death warrant by hanging a man by the name of Everman, who had committed a very foul murder. It was not a very pleasant duty to perform and most certainly one that I never wanted to be called on to repeat. This was the first execution for murder in Polk County, and I think the second in the territory, excepting the Indians that were hung at Oregon City for the murder of Doctor Whitman and others."There was another circumstance that grew out of the murder case thatgave me the unenviable distinction of being the only man that ever put up a white man at auction and sold him to the highest bidder. The man in question was a brother of the above murderer. He was found guilty of being accessory to the murder after the fact, which would entitle him to a term in the penitentiary. There was no penitentiary in the territory at that time, and the judge in sentencing him to a term made the provision in the order that in default of there being a penitentiary he be sold to the highest bidder for the same term that he was sentenced to the penitentiary. Some of my lawyer friends tell me that the judge assumed a very doubtful right in so sentencing the culprit; but no legal move was made to invalidate the judge's order, so the matter rested."The above execution occurred on the 11th of May, 1852. That year my future wife crossed the plains and settled in the neighborhood where I lived. After a year's acquaintance we were married and moved onto a donation claim that I had three miles northwest of Dallas. At this time I was engaged in cattle raising."We lived here until 1859, when I became disgusted with the long, wet, dreary winters. That, coupled with the growing shortage of public pasturage, caused us to sell and seek a country with less winter rains and more public range. From what we could hear of the Walla Walla country we concluded that the winter weather and range were about what we wanted, so we at once decided to emigrate thither. In July I gathered up the cattle and started. The journey was somewhat tedious, a part of it being over dusty roads and the weather at times hot. I reached Dry Creek at Mr. Aldrich's place, early in August. I bought a man's claim just above the Aldrich place. I stayed some two weeks getting the cattle settled on the range. I started back for the family the first day of September, traveling with saddle-and pack-horse."On my way back I had the good fortune to fall in with an immigrant who had been in Oregon and knew the locality where my land was, to sell him my farm, and was thus relieved from being detained on that account."I reached home in twelve days after leaving Dry Creek and found the folks all well. We hurriedly made arrangements for our departure to the place that I had selected for our new home. We bundled our household goods into a wagon, bade good-bye to our friends and started. We drove over the country to Portland, where we put the wagon and team on the boat and got on ourselves, and finally landed at The Dalles. From there we took the wagon to Walla Walla, arriving at our new home the 23rd of October."There was nothing there in the shape of a house but a miserable hut that would neither protect us from the rain or cold. Therefore it was very important to build a house at the earliest possible time. I took a man with me into the mountains to assist me in getting out the timbers, and put another one to hauling them as fast as we got them cut; so it was but a few days till we had the material on the ground with which to build a cabin. We at once put it up and finished it so as to make it endurable for the winter."This was a tolerably severe winter, a great deal of snow and cold weather; but the stock got through in good shape for the reason that the grass was fine in the late fall, which put them in good shape to withstand bad weather; and the country was all open so that they could range on to the creeks and browse when the grass was covered with snow. As to ourselves, we got along fairly well inthe line of provisions, but I can assure you we did not enjoy any delicacies. We had plenty of bread, meat and potatoes, but as to the bread I remember that at times I had to work for it. When the flour was low I had to take corn to a neighbor's who had a steel hand mill, and grind it into meal. I think any person who has ever had the experience of grinding on a hand mill, in the matter of recollection will be like myself, that is, he will remember it."When spring came, the first I did was to gather up the cattle that had got considerably scattered. When that was attended to we went to seeding and planting garden. The season being very favorable everything planted grew luxuriantly. I have never since seen such a crop of potatoes as we raised that year. We estimated the crop at 600 bushels per acre, and I am inclined to believe that it was over rather than under the estimate. I often hear people remark that it rains more now than when the country was first settled. I can confidently say that there has never been a season in which more rain fell in summer season, with possibly the exception of 1862, than fell this season of 1860. I heard remarked that had it not been for the peculiar nature of our soil that readily absorbed it the crops would have been generally drowned out. I look back upon this season as being one of the most enjoyable of my life. The summer was all that we could want it to be. I heartily enjoyed looking over the beautiful country, fresh from the hands of nature and unmarred by the hands of man; everything seemed to smile. The country became endeared to me and I have never seriously thought of making any other place my home."To give an idea of how little people then in the country knew of its value, when it was being surveyed it was talked among the people that it was a waste of Government money to survey it, for the reason that there was so little of it fit for settlement; and today you could not get an acre of that land for less than forty dollars. [At present date about a hundred and forty.] It was universally believed that all the country was worth anything for was its grazing qualities, excepting the low bottoms, which were known to be very productive. Everybody who came to the country then came with the intention of raising stock on the fine pasturage that the country afforded. Nobody came with the intention of farming, for the reason that it was thought that a very small part of the country would produce grain."In 1861 I was elected a member of the Territorial Legislature, which I have always thought was unfortunate for me, for the reason that the following winter was the hard winter and my presence at home would have been very desirable and beneficial to my interests. As soon as the legislature adjourned, although the severe weather was still in evidence, I started at once for home. We traveled in public conveyance as far as Monticello. We found the Columbia thoroughly frozen up and waited a few days, hoping that there might be a breakup, but as the bad weather continued and showed no signs of a change, Mr. Moore, a member of the Legislature, and I concluded to start on foot for The Dalles. It was one of the hardest trips I ever had. We traveled mostly on the ice, but at times would take to the land, where trails were beaten between neighbors in the snow who lived along the shore. We were fortunate enough to find lodging every night and to procure meals when we wanted them."After about a week of weary traveling we reached The Dalles, where we got saddle horses. A Wells, Fargo & Co. messenger fell in with us here, whichswelled our company to three. We had traveled a couple of days when my two comrades became badly afflicted with snow blindness. The trail had been broken through the snow, but had later filled up with fresh snow. It took the practiced eye to follow it. My comrades being snowblinded it devolved on me to lead and break the way. The weather at times was intensely cold, but we found lodging every night except one; luckily for us, it happened to be one of the mildest nights we had, and with some blankets we passed the night fairly comfortably."We reached Walla Walla about the last of February. The war was raging then to such an extent and travel impeded that we brought news that was six weeks old."I found my folks all well and hearty, but the destruction of our stock was something frightful. When I looked them up later I found about ten per cent of them alive; but being in the prime of life and enjoying perfect health I was not discouraged."This season the Orofino and Florence mines poured wealth into the country to such an extent that money was very plentiful and produce very high. I succeeded in putting in a large lot of potatoes and vegetables and some grain. The season being highly favorable everything grew splendidly and produced abundantly and brought a very high price, potatoes selling at four and one-half cents per pound and other things in proportion; so at the end of the year I had to a large extent retrieved the losses that I had sustained by the severity of the winter."Ever since I had heard so much about Doctor Whitman from the immigrants who wintered with him in 1844, and especially after his tragic death, I had become interested in him and in the site of his mission, but had never visited it. In June this year I took a day for it and got on my horse and rode to the old site. Father Eells was occupying it then. I told him the object of my visit. He was very kind indeed and took a great deal of pains in showing me about the place and explaining things the best he could. He took me to the ruins of the old adobe building and explained the plan of it and showed me the spot where Doctor Whitman, according to reports, must have fallen. He then took me to where the victims of the massacre were buried, and while standing there one of us kicked the loose dirt and turned up the lower jaw bone of one of the victims. One of the teeth in the bone was filled with gold. We buried it as well as we could without tools and inferred from the circumstance that they had been buried in shallow graves or been dug up by badgers. I went home feeling that I had been well rewarded for my ride."The next year, 1863, I was elected sheriff. I have nothing to report that was unusual during my term, the usual routine of business incident to the office and no executions for murder or anything else worth speaking about. At the same time I was appointed deputy collector of internal revenue under Philip D. Moore. The duties of this position were simply collecting revenue that fell to the Government. The most unpleasant part of my duties was my responsibility for the considerable sums of money that I had in my possession."After the expiration of my term I returned to the farm and entered into the usual humdrum routine pertaining to farm life."In 1869, for the first time since leaving, I took a trip to Oregon. The election occurred the day before I started. The telegraph line had reached Umatilla.When the boat landed there the messenger went immediately to the telegraph office with the election news. This was my first contact with the telegraph, and it was hard for me to realize that while the operator was sending the dispatch at that very moment it was being received in Portland."At The Dalles we met the first tourist who had come on the newly completed transcontinental railroad to San Francisco and from thence by steamer to Portland and from Portland by river steamers to The Dalles."I went to Dallas, where most of my people lived. I had a very enjoyable visit, having been away ten years. In due time I returned home and found the folks all well."My reminiscences having come down to and partly including the year 1869, the year that the transcontinental railroad was completed, I think about this time they should lose their character as pioneer reminiscences and thus far their interest to the public; for I think the future historian will draw the line between those who came in an ox-team and those who came on the railroads. So I feel that my task is done, and when a person's work is finished it is a good time to quit."From the reminiscences of Mr. Gilliam we turn to those of one of the honored builders, still living in Walla Walla, F. W. Paine. As one of the earliest business men of the region, Mr. Paine is peculiarly qualified to give a picture of the business men and conditions in Walla Walla in the early '60s. We feel ourselves fortunate to be able to present this article from his pen:BUSINESS MEN OF THE '60s"In approaching the subject I realize my utter inability to fitly handle even so small a quota of so large a class, which comprises men of the most eminent minds from among whom are found the financial geniuses to solve the most intricate problems of the world's commerce, from among whose ranks have been chosen by their fellow countrymen men to occupy and administer the highest offices of the nation, and the contingent which I am about to consider, the business men of Walla Walla, has afforded men of more than local fame, not only in their own calling, but men as well who have been chosen from their own sphere to fill places of honor from city councilman to United States senator; the achievements of this class impel the conclusion that the calling of general merchandising affords a training which adapts the mind to the handling of large affairs. To come to my subject, as I now recall the appearance of Main Street, the home of the business man in the spring of 1862, as I first beheld it, it might be described as a development of the old Indian trail along the natural elevation of the south bank of Mill Creek, forming a dry ridge much used by the Indians in horse racing before the whites appropriated it for the more advanced purposes of a business street, which, by the way, established its own azimuth which still maintains and which incidentally misses all the cardinal points of compass. Architecturally viewed it would seem that the earliest occupants of this street differed in their opinions as to the established width, for at that time there was gross irregularity in the building line, as well as ups and downs in the sidewalks, each owner apparently deeming it his own affair, that of fixing the line. When building his house, sidewalk, and frequently a board awning on scantling supports, toafford a show place for his merchandise, while in the matter of the building line 'the crooked have been made straight, the rough places have not all been made plain,' a few still remain perhaps to attest the tenacity of error. With this much for outside appearances let us now step inside where we are met by the subject of this sketch, a business man of Walla Walla, a man approaching middle life, of good presence, well informed on the country in general, its business prospects and opportunities, his stock of merchandise, and his patrons, who, if stockmen, ranged from the Cascades to the Rocky Mountains; if a packer his range was nearly as wide, or if a miner his field covered much the same vast territory, the magnitude of which seemed to be measurably reflected in the men who partook of its largess, for the merchants of early Walla Walla were of the stalwart type who rose to the occasion and occupied the field in a creditable manner, for few of the class known in California as 'Cheap Johns,' ever tarried long in Walla Walla. They came but soon recognized their betters and left for more congenial surroundings. As time sped on and the country settled up business grew to be more complex in its administering. Gold dust and gold and silver bars as important factors in the circulating medium, gave place to gold and silver coin, and greenbacks brought in by the immigrants of the middle '60s were tolerated at fifty to seventy-five cents on the dollar, but no lesser coin than a twenty-five cent piece was accepted in exchange for merchandise and even the saloons treated anything smaller with disdain; but the country was filling up with settlers, and as they became fixed and permanent citizens, credits were extended, some of the leading houses even in the early years, carrying heavy accounts with farmers and stockmen. This necessitated the merchants' assistance in marketing their products, thus these business houses became dealers in wool, wheat, barley, etc., which continued for many years and proved a substantial source of revenue which went far toward helping out the year's profits and also encouraged investments in other lines, such as transportation facilities, flouring mills and various manufactures, in which the business man frequently took the lead, as he did in most of the important doings of the day; for instance, in the matter of public spirit a record may be found in his generous subscriptions to induce the construction of railroads, for the building of hospitals, churches and educational institutions, and for their maintenance, and again in the voting of taxes for public schools and public buildings, both of the city and county. This matter of voting taxes brings to mind that even this early, politics was an institution to be reckoned with, but the business man seldom sought its honors. His political creed was, business before pleasure or politics. When election day came around he voted his party ticket and enjoyed the diversion, so it did not interfere with business. He seldom accepted office, and then only as a matter of duty, but when such responsibilities were undertaken they were discharged with fidelity to the trust imposed."Of his religion he took a less serious view, but his hand was ever open to the deserving in a good cause, it mattered not from whence the call. To illustrate, in the early days there came to this city a man most devout, a reserved and gentle mannered man, who, finding no church of his denomination, proceeded to build one near to the business district. He contributed largely of his own rather limited means and completed the building. Among the many brilliant sermons delivered from its pulpit were some very caustic and pointed, directlyaimed at the shortcomings of the business world. He became noted for his good work, both in and out of the pulpit, but one day his church was accidentally burned, a total loss and no insurance. Whereupon a prominent business man (who for himself had little use for churches) seemingly prompted by his sense of justice, and as he said, 'a desire to see a good man get a square deal,' took prompt action and with a subscription list headed by a liberal sum, set against his own name, he proceeded to interview the business places, omitting none. Everything that was operated for money was in business to him, at least for that day, and was assessed and collection made at the same time. When he had made the round of Main Street, even before the ashes were cold, he had enough to build a new church. No one asked was the money tainted, but the church was built and much good resulted therefrom. One other instance I recall, when a preacher who had gathered many souls into his fold, somewhat on his merits as a good 'mixer' (this word belongs to politics, but if the good man could say even now he would approve its use here). After he had scheduled members enough to justify building a church he went among the brethren for subscriptions. Meeting two of his business acquaintances he made known his plans to which they readily subscribed a generous sum, only conditioned upon his steeple rising higher than that of the church across the street. To this he readily assented, and the spire stands today to attest his good works."Some historian has said, 'History is not written with a microscope,' nor should it be written with one's eye blinded to events that it were better had never occurred, but so long as man continues to indulge erroneous thoughts, those thoughts will be expressed in actions which, with their effects, will be recorded. So, notwithstanding the enviable record of the average business man of his day, there was the inevitable exception when someone went wrong, or, so to say, was swept off his feet by the lure of the open games of chance, presided over by the man with the starched shirt and polished nails. Such heaps of gold and silver, bags of dust even all so temptingly lay, just waiting the turn of a card, the jingling of coins, the hustle and murmur of the crowds, the glint and dazzle of the lights, the music and the song, the tinkle of the glasses, the odor of cocktails and champagne, a perfect riot of sensations, and over all that transport of abandon so free of all restraint, 'society' looked on complacently, law lacked an introduction, but 'twas all so sociable he took a hand or perchance bought a few chips and the better to celebrate his first winning, ordered a cocktail and cigar, and then was soon on the road that men of all callings frequented in the very early days. Little wonder that an occasional business man was found among the discard."Elsewhere I note that occasion was had to mention so many of the names of firms and men in business in the early days, that I will not attempt to repeat them, suffice to say that rare and potent conditions must have worked together to produce a force of men so fitting to the time and place as were these, to prosecute their chosen calling as a means to success; some, to be sure, looking only to a temporary stay which as time wore on, grew to be permanent, others, casting their lot with the county from the beginning, remained to amass fortunes of no mean proportions. Several having reached business limitations here, naturally gravitated to larger cities, to enjoy a wider field of operations, where they continued to court the Goddess of Fortune successfully. Of those whoremained many have attained to places of honor, and of few indeed could it be said that the world was no better for their having lived in it, and taken as a whole, the history of the county would be sadly abbreviated were it to be deprived of a record of their doings."One of the best known of the pioneer families of Walla Walla is that of the Ferrels. As a charming narrative of the typical events of a journey across the plains and settlement in Walla Walla in the early days, we incorporate here a paper by Mrs. Brewster Ferrel.A WOMAN'S EXPERIENCE CROSSING THE PLAINSMay 1, 1864.We started from Corydon, Wayne County, Iowa, to travel the wild and desolate plains and seek a home in Walla Walla, Wash. This is a true story, but before you get through reading it you will not wonder at the people out west calling us green immigrants.My husband and I and our little boy, who was two years old, and my husband's brother, were all that came in our wagon. We had a good little mule team. I have had a kind regard for mules over since I took that trip. Did not know a mule could learn so much.The first day was a sad one going past our relatives and old neighbors' homes and stopping to say good-bye. Our people gave us little presents, tokens of love, and lots of good advice, such as, "be careful and don't let the Indians get you," or, "be a good girl and come back some day." Well, we did come back twenty-four years after, but not with a mule team.The first night we stayed at a house. Next morning the good woman said, "I will give you some pickled meat." So she went out in the meat house to get it, and there was a skunk drowned in the brine. We thanked her and got our meat at another place.The next night we camped out, the first I ever slept out of a house, and when bedtime came our little boy cried, oh, so hard to go home, but we got him quiet and slept well; that was one thing we could do on that trip.Woman-like, I was very much afraid of the bad roads. We had all of our belongings piled in that wagon, and among other things were our firearms. We came to a very bad place in the road. I took our little boy out of the wagon and we were walking behind when a shotgun that was lying in the wagon went off and the shot came very near us. Then I concluded in the wagon was the safest place and soon got so I was not afraid to ride over any kind of road.We traveled alone till we got to the Missouri River. Then we came to a string of wagons about a mile and a half long. They were waiting to be ferried over the river. We came there in the forenoon, and took our place in line and moved up as the wagons went over. We stayed there all that day and camped there that night. Next morning we got over.

CHAPTER VPIONEER REMINISCENCESThis is a chapter of remembrances. The author has felt that the work would be incomplete without some space devoted to the personal experiences of those who made the history. Out of the vast amount of matter which might be available he has selected such narrations as cover the widest range and afford the greatest variety.Some of these selections are of early letters, the writers of which have long since passed away. A few were prepared originally for the Inland Empire Pioneer Association. The larger number have been written especially for this work by those who are still actively engaged in the affairs of the community. It is with the belief that this collection of actual experiences and observations will constitute a chapter of present interest to the pioneers and will be a source of ever-increasing pleasure and instruction to their descendants, that the author gives it a place as the crowning feature of the book.We first incorporate a letter by Doctor Whitman, never published before, significant of the life and conditions, as well as the habit of thought and mode of expression of that first stage in the history of Old Walla Walla. Doctor Whitman's letter gives a vivid view of the variety of interests with which he was concerned. It is as follows:Waiilatpu, September 29, 1845.Rev. Elkanah Walker.Dear Brother: I take a moment only to write as Mr. Eells is soon to be off.The first thing I have to say is, will you send Cyrus here to school this winter in case we have one, which we expect we may? I. W. Gilbert, formerly my day and Sabbath School scholar, has come up from the Willamet and will be likely to winter here, and most likely we may employ him to teach.If you send you may do well to come this way as you go to Lapwai [Mr. Walker was located at Tshimakain in the Spokane country] and leave Cyrus here.Few of the immigrants call on us.Four hundred and fifty wagons passed Fort Hall, but from seventy to one hundred went to California and one hundred left the trail at Malade to go to Waskopum. As they are so early they have no great need of provisions short of The Dalles. Most are now passed.Mr. Eells can tell you about Mr. Green's letter to me. We can now have little hope of a reinforcement. I do not think it best for me to say anything in relation to the subject hinted at in your first, but may at another time.I am trying to burn some coal [charcoal] in order to have a little work done in the shop. I hope also to get a millwright for a few days to set the sawmill at work.We would like scholars enough to take some of our time, the more the better. Mrs. Whitman is anxious also and more than willing to have as many as possible.With esteem and expectation of seeing you and letting you have a first rate article of corn meal, with our united compliments to you all.Yours truly,Marcus Whitman.A letter of an earlier date than that of Doctor Whitman, by one of the immigrants of 1843, is of great interest for a number of reasons. We give it here as containing the spirit of that first genuine American immigration, the one that sealed the American possession of Oregon.Waiilatpu, October 27, 1843.Jesse Looney to John C. Bond,Greenbush, Warren County, Ill.Dear Sir: I embrace the opportunity of writing to you from this far western country afforded me by the return of Lieutenant Fremont to the States this winter. He thinks he will be at Independence, Mo., by January next, which will be in time for those who intend coming next season to this country to get some information about the necessary preparations to be ready for the journey.It is a long and tiresome trip from the States to this country, but the company of emigrants came through safely this season to the number of 1000 persons with something over 100 wagons to this place, which is 250 miles east of the Willamet Valley, and, with the exception of myself and a few others, have all gone on down there, intending to go through this winter if possible. About half of them have traded off their stock at Walla Walla, twenty-five miles below here [he means the Hudson's Bay fort] and are going by water. The balance went on by land to the Methodist Mission, 175 miles below this, intending to take to the water there.I have stopped here in the Walla Walla Valley to spend the winter, in order to save my stock. This is a fine valley of land, excellent water, good climate, and the finest kind of pine timber on the surrounding mountains, and above all a good range for stock both summer and winter. The Indians are friendly and have plenty of grain and potatoes, and a good many hogs and cattle. The missionaries at this and other missions have raised fine crops of wheat, corn, potatoes, etc., so that provisions can be procured here upon as good or better terms than in the lower settlements at present. Cattle are valuable here, especially American cattle. Things induced me to stop here for the winter, save my stock and take them down in the spring.In preparing for the journey of Rocky Mountains, you cannot be too particular in choice of a wagon. It should be strong in every part and yet it should not be very heavy. The large size, two-horse Yankee wagons are the most substantial wagons I have seen for this trip. You should haul nothing but your clothing, bedding and provisions. Goods are cheaper here than in the States. Let your main load be provisions—flour and bacon. Put in about as much loadinging as one yoke of cattle can draw handily, and then put on three good yoke of cattle and take an extra yoke for change in case of failure from lameness or sore necks, and you can come without any difficulty. The road is good, much better than we had expected, but is long. Bring all the loose cattle you can, especially milk cows and heifers. Do not attempt to bring calves. They will not come through, and by losing them you will be in danger of losing their mothers.I cannot urge you too strongly to be sure to bring plenty of provisions; don't depend on the game you may get. You may get some and you may not. It is uncertain. We were about five months on the way to this place, and I had plenty of flour, etc., to do me, but most of the company were out long before they got here, and there is little or nothing in the way of provisions to be had at the forts on the way. I would advise you to lay in plenty for at least five months, for if you get out on the way you will have trouble to get any till you get here. I would advise you to start as soon as the grass will admit. We might have started near a month sooner than we did, and then would have been here in time to have gone through with our cattle this winter. We left Independence, Mo., the 22d of May and we are just about a month too late. Myself and family were all sick when we left and continued till we left Blue River, and the rain and wind, but when we reached the highlands along the Platte we began to mend. My health is better than for years, and so far as I have seen this country I think it is very healthy. There was five or six deaths on the road, some by sickness and some by accident, and there were eight or ten births. Upon the whole we fared much better than we expected. We had no interruptions from the Indians. Our greatest difficulty was in crossing rivers. Mrs. L. says prepare with good strong clothing or sage brush will strip you.This shrub is very plenty, and was hard on our teams, especially those that went before, but it will not be so bad on those that come next year, for we have left a plain, well beaten road all the way. I will have a better opportunity of giving you accounts of this country next spring, and I want you to write the first chance and to direct to the settlement of Willamet.So no more, but remain,Your brother till death,Jesse Looney.In connection with these letters dealing with the mission at Waiilatpu and the immigration of 1843, we wish to include two of much interest, not hitherto published, both dealing with Doctor Whitman. These are letters of much later date than the preceding, though pertaining to the times of the mission.The first of these is by Perrin Whitman to W. H. Gray. Perrin Whitman lived many years at Lewiston and was well known in all that region.Letter from Perrin Whitman to W. H. Gray:Lapwai Station, October 11, 1880.About the 20th of April, 1843, I left Rushville, Yates County, N. Y., with Dr. Marcus Whitman (my uncle) for Oregon. I distinctly remember of his telling his mother and friends that his visit with them would be necessarily short, as he had on his way east from Oregon, notified all who were desirous ofemigrating to Oregon to rendezvous at Westport and Independence, Mo., and that he would pilot them with their wagons across the Rocky Mountains to the Columbia River. The immigration, consisting of about one hundred and twenty wagons, left the Missouri line about the last of May and reached Waiilatpu (Walla Walla Valley) about the 5th of the following September.The doctor piloted them the whole distance, as he had promised to do. Gen. J. C. Fremont (at that time a lieutenant) arrived at Waiilatpu with his Government train across the plains a few weeks after the arrival of our immigration.Doctor Whitman's trip east in the winter of 1842 and '43 was for the double purpose of bringing the immigration across the plains, also prevent, if possible, the trading off of this northwest coast to the British Government. I learned from him that the Mission Board censured him in strong terms for having left his missionary duty and engaged in another so foreign from the one they had sent him to perform. While crossing the plains I repeatedly heard the doctor express himself as being very anxious to succeed in opening a wagon road across the continent to the Columbia River, and thereby stay, if not entirely prevent, the trade of this northwest coast, then pending between the United States and the British Government.In after years the doctor with much pride and satisfaction reverted to his success in bringing the immigration across the plains and thought it one of the means of saving Oregon to his Government. I remained with him continuously till August, 1847, when he sent me to The Dalles. He was murdered the following November.The above statement is correct and true, so help me God.P. B. Whitman.The next letter is from Judge O. S. Pratt, the territorial judge who presided at the trial of the Indians implicated in the Whitman massacre. It was addressed to Mrs. Catherine Sager Pringle, one of the adopted children of Doctor Whitman, evidently in response to inquiries for information.While the facts which it states might be known from other sources, it is of much interest as a summary of the permanent views of Judge Pratt upon the life and character of Doctor Whitman.San Francisco, March 4, 1882.Dear Madam: In my reply to your letter of January 20th last, I wrote you I thought the late Doctor Whitman was born in Ontario County, N. Y. I said I would soon know as I had just written to a friend who had the means of knowing the doctor's birthplace and would be likely to send me exact information on the subject. In reply to a letter, which I caused to be written to Mrs. Henry F. Wisewell, residing at Naples in Ontario County, N. Y., who is the doctor's sister and the only surviving member of his father's family, I received today, under date of February 22, 1882, an answer dictated by her, stating that "Marcus Whitman was born in Rushville, Ontario County, N. Y., September 4, 1802—the county then being very wild and new. In infancy he narrowly escaped death by burning, his cradle having taken fire from a brand falling out of the fireplace, when left alone. His father died in April, 1810; the same fall the son was sent to Plainfield, Mass., to live with his grandparents. He then attended school and returned to Rushville when eighteen years old. At thelatter place he studied medicine and received a diploma at the Fairfield (N. Y.) Medical College. He thereafter practiced medicine a short time in Canada, and afterwards for a few years near his native place. The Rev. Mr. Parker of Ithaca, N. Y., while preaching in the interior of that state on behalf of the Northwestern Indians, became acquainted with Doctor Whitman; and the latter having become deeply interested in Mr. Parker's efforts, first went with him to explore Oregon in the spring of 1835, and returned to his native village about Christmas of the same year, bringing with him two Indian boys. They were sent to school and learned rapidly and were soon able to read well and write legibly."In February, 1836, the doctor married Miss Narcissa Prentiss, a resident of Prattsburg, N. Y., and not far from his native village, who, with the doctor and the Rev. and Mrs. Spalding and the Indian boys, left April, 1836, for Oregon, their mission field, traveling west of the Mississippi, with pack horses and mules. Mrs. Whitman and Mrs. Spalding are understood to have been the first white women who ever crossed the Rocky Mountains. The doctor thereafter returned but once, starting October 7, 1842, and reached New York April 2, 1843, having suffered many hardships by the way, sleeping for the most part on the ground, and being at one time without food five days, and in his greatest extremity was compelled to kill his dogs to sustain life. From New York, before visiting his family, he hurried to Washington on his mission with the Government, which was to secure, if possible, Oregon to the United States. Not long afterwards he returned to his home west of the Rocky Mountains, and was, as is well known, massacred with his wife and others by the Indians, November 29, 1847."I trust the foregoing, which may rightly be treated as authentic, will leave no uncertainty as to the birthplace and some of the important facts connected with the history of the late Doctor Whitman's useful life.Respectfully yours,O. S. Pratt.Turning now from the letters to special contributions we will first present one dealing with the Cayuse war, following the great tragedy at Waiilatpu. This contains the personal experience of W. W. Walter, an immigrant to the Walla Walla country of 1859. He lived many years near Prescott. This article was written from his dictation by his daughter, Mrs. Pettyjohn.CAYUSE INDIAN WARBy W. W. WalterIn December, 1847, word reached the settlements in Oregon that the Cayuse Indians had killed Doctor Whitman and wife and twelve others. A runner carried the word to Vancouver, and a messenger was at once dispatched to Oregon City to Governor Abernethy, while Peter Skeen Ogden, factor of the Hudson's Bay Company, with a small company of Hudson's Bay men set out at once for the scene of the massacre—where he accomplished his wonderful work of ransoming the white captives held by the Indians."No other power on earth," says Joe Meek, the American, "could haverescued those prisoners from the hands of the Indians." And no man better than Mr. Meek understood the Indian character, or the Hudson's Bay Company's power over them.The Oregon Legislature was in session when the message from Vancouver arrived, telling of the massacre. A call was made at once for fifty riflemen to proceed at once to The Dalles—to guard the settlements below from an invasion of the Indians. This company was known as the "First Oregon Riflemen."Word came that the Cayuse Indians were coming to kill all the settlers in Oregon, and it was deemed best to meet the hostiles on their own ground.After the first fifty men had started for The Dalles, five companies of volunteers were organized. I went from Tualatin County (now Washington) in Capt. Lawrence Hall's company of volunteers—every man furnishing his own horse and equipment—every one who could contribute a gun, or a little powder and lead—that was the way we got our munitions of war.We rendezvoused at Portland, awaiting marching orders, which were given about January 1, 1848. We were in Portland a week or more, and I remember myself and some other lads made a ride back to the Plains to attend a dance—Christmas week.About January 1, 1848, we started for the Cayuse Country, three hundred men, all told—we marched across the country and ferried over the Columbia at Vancouver. There the Hudson's Bay Company let us have a cannon, and it was an elephant on our hands.From Vancouver we traveled up the north side of the Columbia (dragging that old cannon along) to a place above the Cascades where we built a ferry boat and crossed the river again to the south side and followed up the trails to the Dalles. We still kept our cannon, making portages with it, and at the Dalles mounted the thing on a wagon. The fifty men stationed there to hold the Mission were greatly annoyed by the Indians, and just after we arrived a report was brought in that there were hostile Indians up the Deschutes River, and two of our men on horse guard were decoyed by the Indians and killed. It happened thus: The Indians stripped their horses and let them graze near the guards, giving the impression they were loose horses. Our men thought them their own horses and went after them, when the Indians, who were concealed in the grass with ropes on their horses, fired and killed the two men. Those were the first men killed in the war.So when we heard of the Indians up the Deschutes we were anxious for a fight and started for them. The battleground was at the mouth of Tygh Creek on the ridge where we, as emigrants, had come down the Deschutes hill two years before. We met the Indians early in the morning. The first we knew of their whereabouts we saw them formed in line on the front of a high hill. To reach them we had to climb that hill, facing their fire. We left our horses and took it afoot up that hill, but they did not stand long—we soon routed them—we had but one man wounded. We followed up with continuous firing on both sides—then we had our horses brought up and gave chase. As the country was level on top the hill we followed them five or six miles—they outstripped us, as they had splendid fresh horses; we skirmished all that day—camped on the hill at night, then the next day followed on until we reached their deserted camp. There we found a very old and feeble Indian man and woman—too old to travel. They weredeserted and alone, with a little pile of food lying by them. They refused to talk, so we learned nothing from them—so we left them undisturbed and returned to the Dalles, where we fitted up some old emigrant wagons and got some emigrant cattle and Mission cattle, and made up a train of wagons to haul what little supplies we had with us. We now started for the upper country, following the old emigrant road.We had our next encounter with the Indians at Wells Springs between Willow Creek and Butter Creek. We camped there for the night—in the morning we had just gotten out of camp when we began to see Indians—Indians in every direction, in squads of ten and fifty, just coming thick. There were enough of them to eat up our little band of three hundred. We went only about a mile and a half when Col. Gilliam called a halt and we began preparations for a fight.It was estimated over one thousand Indians were on the ground. A party of chiefs came out and called for a talk. Col. Gilliam, Tom McKay, Charlie McKay and Mungo, the interpreter, went out to meet them. When they met it was learned there were Indians from all the northern tribes besides the Cayuses. There were Coeur d'Alenes, Flatheads, Pend d'Oreilles and Spokanes.The Cayuses had sent runners to all the different tribes telling them the Whites in Oregon had killed all the Catholics and Hudson's Bay men who were friends to these Northern Indians—they told them they had killed Tom McKay, their best friend, and were now coming to kill them and take their country. But when an old chief met the commission, he saw and recognized old Tom McKay and knew then they had been deceived and asked an explanation.When Tom McKay, who was intimately acquainted with those northern Indians, and whose influence over them exceeded that of any other man in the country, told them the true story and that they were only up there to punish the murderers of Dr. Whitman and people, the old Flathead chief promised to take no part and to draw off all except the Cayuses. When the haughty Cayuse chief, named Grey Eagle, heard this he was so enraged he turned on McKay and said, "I'll kill you, Tom McKay," and drew his gun to fire, but McKay was too quick for him and fired first, killing the chief.Grey Eagle was a great medicine man, and had boasted he could swallow all the bullets fired at him and McKay shot him in the mouth. As the Indians turned to run, Charlie McKay shot Five Crows, breaking his arm, but he escaped. It will be remembered he was the Indian who held captive a girl from the Mission. Five Crows, however, shot the powder horn off McKay, so you can see they were in pretty close quarters.We boys gave McKay great credit for the service he done us—for our little band of three hundred looked pretty small compared with the foe.Now, the battle was fairly on. The Northern Indians drew off on a hill and the Cayuses made a dash on us, about six hundred strong, all well mounted, riding in a circle and firing whenever a chance came. The Indians never left their horses—if they dismounted, the horse was fastened to the rider. When an Indian was killed we would always find the horse standing by his fallen rider, usually tied by the hair rope to his wrist.(The horse rode by Grey Eagle was a beautiful gray, and McKay's son Alec rode him many years.) The fight lasted the whole day long—that cannon that had caused so much vexation of spirit was of but little use, as the Indians scatteredso—it was fired a few times at a squad of Indians at long range—it served more to terrorize them than to kill, as it made a tremendous noise and they no doubt thought it great medicine. It was an impressive sight to see those hundreds of Northern Indians, splendidly mounted and armed after the Indian fashion, sitting on their horses at one side all day long, watching the progress of the fight. What a picture that would have made!We camped that night on the battleground, but the next morning the Indians were gone. I think neither side could claim a victory. As we traveled that day Indians kept in sight all day, but did not interfere with us until we reached the Mission at Waiilatpu, where we performed the sad duty of gathering up the remains of the martyrs and burying them. We found parts of bodies lying around, scattered about. We found a skull with a tomahawk wound in it—we supposed it was that of Mrs. Whitman. We also found locks of her beautiful yellow hair in the yard. It was taken to Oregon City and placed among the Oregon State Documents.We made a sort of stockade by building a wall breast high of adobe from the old buildings—also built a corral for the horses by placing rails end in the ground, and corraled the horses every night and guarded them by day. We slaughtered what cattle we could find and jerked the meat so we would have supplies in case we were corraled by the Indians. We subsisted on Indian and Mission cattle—no bread.After getting settled in camp, parts of two companies, myself one of the number, escorted Joe Meek and his party to the snow line of the Blue Mountains as he started on his famous trip across the continent at midwinter, as an agent from Oregon, to ask protection of the United States Government for the suffering settlers in the wilds of Oregon. He was accompanied by Squire Ebberts and Nat Bowman, both mountain men, and three others. So we left the little party to pursue their journey amid untold perils while we returned to Fort Waters, as the Mission was now called. This was in February. About the first of March about eighty-five or ninety men were called to go out on a raid to gather up what cattle we could and learn what we could of the whereabouts of the hostiles. My company went, as we were the best mounted men in the command. Not thinking to be gone long, we rode light and took no provisions.We traveled what was long known as the Nez Perces trails, cross the country to Copeii, where we were met by two friendly Indians. They told as the Cayuses were camped at the mouth of Tucanon. Our interpreter, Mungo, said he could pilot us there. We concluded to hunt them up.So at dark we started going down Copeii, then across the country to Tucanon to where Starbuck now is. There we crossed and followed down the creek, reaching the encampment just at break of day. Just as we crossed Tucanon we ran onto an Indian guard, but he got away and ran to camp—so when we got near camp two Indians came out with a white flag. I will state here that runners had been sent with word that if friendly Indians would raise a flag of truce they would not be molested, as we were only seeking to punish the Cayuses. So when they sent out the flag and asked for a talk, Col. Gilliam went forward. They claimed to be Palouses and friendly to the Whites. Said the Cayuses had gone across Snake River, but had left lots of stock behind which they would turn over to the volunteers, and that they would go out and gather them in for us.So they began running in horses and cattle, we helping—and all went merrily along. However, we soon noticed the lodges going down as by magic and the boys on the hill saw them busily ferrying their families over the river, and asked why they were moving. They said their women were afraid of the Whites and wished to go. So by their cunning manœuvres they had detained us half a day, and we, without any food since the early morning before, were beginning to feel pretty hungry.When they had delivered up all the stock, Col. Gilliam said we would drive out to grass and camp and eat. So we started out, but soon discovered we had been duped the worst way. They were the Cayuses—even the real murderers were there, and they were after us. Now there was no thought of eating. Indians on every side, yelling like demons, calling us women—afraid to fight. It was a running fight all day long and we were still holding the stock at night—in McKay Hollow, where we strung along the little hollow seeking shelter from the Indians by hiding behind the banks. We did not dare kindle a fire. On examination it was found thirty volunteers were wounded, but not dangerously. Our ammunition was about exhausted and we were half famished.The older men and officers evidently realized we were in a pretty serious predicament, but we young boys had no idea of the danger we were in, not as I see it now. During the night Gilliam ordered the stock turned loose—as we were now about out of ammunition he hoped by turning the stock loose to get rid of the Indians. The boys objected to that move, but instead of the Indians leaving us that only renewed their courage. They thought we were giving up, and attacked us more savagely than ever. We were pretty well hidden and in no immediate danger, so we saved our ammunition and only fired when sure of an Indian—they frequently came in range when circling around us. In the morning they still hung on our heels. As we started out they followed us on—calling to Mungo repeatedly, asking why we did not stop to fight, while he abused them in return.The Indians would drop behind until a bunch of us were a distance from the command, then make a dash, trying to cut us off, and we surely were not cautious. Tom Cornelius, Pete Engart and myself were a little behind when an Indian shot Engart in the calf of the leg. He fell from his horse, saying he was killed. Tom and I jumped from our horses and shook him up and told him he was not hurt—he gave up. We finally threw him up astride his horse—we cursed him and told him to ride—and he rode. By this time the Indians were on us and the boys ahead had not missed us. I tell you we made a race for it, one of us on each side of the wounded man, but we made it.Another time that day Mungo's horse was shot from under him. Tom Cornelius and I saw him fall and ran back to him. He had stopped to take his saddle—we were just in time, as the Indians were coming pell-mell, shouting, "We've got Mungo." I took Mungo behind me and Tom took his saddle and away we went. This was the way we were at it all the way, some one in close quarters all the time.Mungo told the Cayuses we would fight when we reached the Touchet and got water. Then began the race for the first stand at the Touchet. The Indians beat us on the lower side, but we headed them off above the ford. Some Indians hid in the brush and shot at our men as they passed on the trail. We weretrying to get our wounded men across, but the Indians were killing horses and men. I was in the company up the creek. When we came down, Col. Gilliam told Lieut. Engart to rout those ambushed Indians. Engart called for volunteers to go in after them. I was one with twenty others. We started for the hiding place, skirting along the brush, expecting any minute to run on them. When we did find them, not more than five or six of us were together in the lead, and the Indians were firing at another squad of men some distance away—we were within thirty feet of them. I fired and hit my Indian just as he turned to run, striking him in the back of the head. He fell and I stepped back behind a bush to reload, when another man ran in and stood in my place; as he did so the Indian rolled over and fired at him, killing him. Just then Nate Olney, an old Indian fighter, ran in with a tomahawk and made a good Indian of him. He scalped him and I carried the grewsome trophy at my saddle horn when I returned home. We killed about sixty Indians there. It was hard to make an estimate of how many, as they carried their dead away unless too hard pressed.All during this battle the chief sat on his horse on the rocky point just above Bolles Junction [the present junction] and gave command and encouragement in a loud and stentorian voice. He could be heard for miles. Finally a bullet sped his way and he was killed—and he being the medicine man, the battle ceased and a council was called. We were now across the Touchet. We were carrying our wounded men on litters made by stretching blankets on willow poles—taking turns carrying—that was a hard job. As we began to climb the hill beyond the Touchet we heard the Indians let up their death-wail—they were gathered together on those low hills just north the Bolles Junction depot.We traveled on to Dry Creek that day; there we went into camp and spying some Indian horses on the prairie, myself with some others ran in a bunch, near some brush where some of our men were hidden, and as they passed, shot two. That was the first horse meat I had tried to eat, but it made me sick—though they were young unbroken horses. I was sure they tasted of the saddle blanket—suggestion, I suppose. When we woke next morning there was four or five inches of snow on our blankets—we had no tents.A runner had been sent on to the Mission and a wagon sent out for our wounded men. My bunkie and I got up early, mounted our horses and rode on to the Mission that morning. The boys soon were preparing provisions for the famishing troops, but after starving so long the smell of food cooking made me sick and I could not eat until the next morning. Some of the boys were so ravenous they had to be restrained or they would have killed themselves eating.Now we laid around camp, getting into mischief, and I learned to smoke. The only regular rations issued us was tobacco—and the smokers seemed to take such comfort in the pipe, I too indulged.When we came into the Indian country Gilliam told us we could have any Indian horses we captured. I was pretty handy with a rope and got away with three head from the battle at the Touchet. One, a fine horse rode by a chief, I was particularly proud of. A big burly Dutchman in another company also coveted that horse, so one morning he put his rope on him and led him into camp. I at once claimed the horse and proceeded to make good my claim. He resisted and we got into a "scrap"; he had friends, so had I. All took sides—it was decided we fight for possession; the winner to get him. That suited me all right—soat it we went. Men say it was a hard fight, but I won and took the horse to lead him off, when an under officer, a friend of the Dutchman, stepped up and took hold of the rope, saying, "I'll take this horse." I was only a boy of nineteen years, but I did not intend to give up the horse without a struggle, and was considering the consequences of hitting an officer when Colonel Gilliam walked unobserved into the ring, cut the rope behind the officer's hand, handed the rope to me and walked away without a word. I tell you I was the proudest boy in that camp—and after the colonel was gone I could not resist crowing at the Dutchman in true boy fashion. This is just an example of how justice was meted out in the army of volunteers.In the spring about two hundred recruits came. We now numbered about five hundred men. Then a party set out for north of Snake River to hunt Indians. I was with the company. We crossed the Snake at the mouth of the Palouse—we made a camp at Little Falls—were at Big Lake on Cow Creek and all over the upper country, but failed to find any number of Indians. We fired a few shots at stragglers now and then, but had no regular engagement. The Cayuse warriors had scattered about among other tribes, many going over the mountains to wait until the soldiers left the country.A detachment of men was sent to Walker's Mission, called Tshimakain, where Walker and Eells and their families were located as missionaries among the Spokanes. We got the families and brought them back with us. We came back across country, crossing Snake River at the mouth of Alpowa Creek to an Indian encampment known as Red Wolf's Land—then we returned to Waiilatpu. This expedition went out the first of May. Sometime in June we began our return trip to Oregon, having been out about six months.I remember while camped in the Umatilla country I was breaking an Indian horse to ride—and he would throw himself whenever I mounted. I had become pretty mad at his persistence in lying down, so concluded to tie him down until he would be willing to stand up. I did so and left him close to camp—but in the morning I was minus a horse—the wolves had eaten him up. We had much to learn in those days.On this trip Colonel Gilliam was killed accidentally. In pulling a gun from a wagon it caught in a rope and was discharged, killing him. He was a good man and a good officer, well liked by all his men, as he was a friend to all.We arrived at Oregon City a few days before the Fourth of July. The Governor rode out and reviewed the troops, as we were on parade. Every man had his horse decked out in Indian trappings and we were as wild as a band of Indians. Crowds of people had gathered to welcome us home. The Governor made us a short talk and dismissed us. Thus ended the organization of Oregon's First Mounted Volunteers—we all scattered out to our homes.—Thus ends Mr. Walter's article.Another of the pioneers of '59 was W. S. Gilliam, son of the Colonel Gilliam referred to in Mr. Walter's article. Mr. Gilliam was one of the most honored and useful of Walla Walla's pioneers. A number of years ago he prepared a contribution for the Pioneer Association which we are presenting here. We are making selections on account of the length of the article. The first pertains tothe journey across the plains in 1844, and gives a view of some of the interesting events there:"The next morning a sight opened up to us that can never be seen again by mortal man. As far as the eye could reach up the valley of the South Platte and as far on the bluffs as we could see was black with buffaloes. The quantity of the buffaloes was one thing that the early travelers could not exaggerate."Under the guidance of Mr. Sublette we struck across the country from the last mentioned camp to the North Platte. In the course of the day we descried a large band of buffaloes under full headway, making directly for the train. We hastily gathered our guns and put ourselves in position, and as soon as the head of the herd came in shooting distance we commenced firing on them and succeeded as we thought, luckily, in turning them around the rear of the train. I think I may safely say that while we were in the buffalo country we were hardly ever out of sight of the animals."We struck the North Platte the next day and traveled up the stream most of the way to Fort Laramie, where we laid by a day. We met Mr. Joseph Walker here, who was a noted mountaineer and also an old friend of my father's. He happened to be going our way as far as Fort Bridger and made a very acceptable guide for us."The day we laid by I was taken with a very violent fever and remember but little that happened till we got to Sweet Water, where I became convalescent. I remember seeing Independence Rock, covered with names innumerable, and the Devil's Gate, where the river had cut its way through a hill, leaving perpendicular banks perhaps a hundred feet high and a gorge not any wider than the stream."We followed up Sweet Water several days to a point where we left it to our right and took into the South Pass across the Rocky Mountains. After a moderate day's travel we camped at the Pacific Springs, the first water that we had encountered that flowed westward. I remember that we felt quite jubilant over the affair and thought that this was quite a circumstance in our journey. In passing over the country from here to Fort Bridger we crossed the two Sandies, Green River, and Ham's Fork. We stopped a day at the fort and next day, it being the first day of September, we started a northerly course across the country to Bear River. We followed down this stream to the Soda Springs, which was a great wonder to us. On an area of perhaps one hundred acres hundreds of springs boiled up, many in the bed of the river."Following this is an estimate of Captain Grant, the Hudson's Bay commandant at Fort Hall. As the character of Captain Grant has been the subject of controversy, the views of Mr. Gilliam have much interest:"We camped here and next morning when we started we left the river, and after traveling some sixty or seventy miles we reached Fort Hall, then a Hudson's Bay Company trading post, where Mr. Grant was chief factor. Here a circumstance occurred that has caused me through life to regard Grant as a bad hearted man. Peter H. Burnett, a noted man of the previous emigration, had written a letter of instruction and encouragement and sent it to Grant with instructions that he should read it to the emigrants when they reached Fort Hall. When we arrived there the letter was called for and Grant read it to us. It was a very welcome note, giving us useful instructions about the route and strong encouragementabout the country we were going to. But you can hardly conceive of the barrels of cold water he poured onto Mr. Burnett's words of encouragement. The circumstances were such that such a proceeding was of no profit or benefit to him or the company he was serving, for it was next to impossible for us to turn back. We were from the very nature of our situation compelled to go ahead, and he well knew that his discouragement could avail nothing towards stopping us. I have never been able to regard him as a good man."A retrospect by Mr. Gilliam, and an account of settlement in the Willamette Valley contains matter of interest:"It may be well enough to take a retrospect of things as they were then and compare them with things as they are now. We traveled through the territory that now constitutes the states of Kansas, Nebraska, Wyoming, Utah, Idaho and well through Oregon, and in all this vast region we did not find one single home, unless you, by a strained construction, call a mission or trading post a home. There were a thousand miles of this journey, which required six months to perform it. We stood guard to protect our lives and property from hostile Indians. This being the year that Polk was elected president, the earliest news that we got of it was in July following, and we considered ourselves rather fortunate in getting it thus early; it having come by ship, when in fact we did not expect to get it until the arrival of the emigrants in the fall. When a presidential election occurs now if we do not get the news the next day we feel that we are unfortunate in being deprived of the news so long."I took my first trip back three years ago. I was three days in making it, and on the route found two large cities, Salt Lake and Denver, and seemingly happy homes everywhere, and made the trip in a comfortable manner that was undreamed of in those early days."Well, to return. We wintered where the town of Cornelius now stands, about eighty rods south of the depot, with Messrs. Waters and Emerick, who were keeping batch at that time. The winter was very mild, which impressed us very favorably with the climate."In February father went up the country to select a land claim. I think his was the first claim taken south of the Rickreall. The town of Dallas stands on part of it. He came back with a glowing account of the country he had seen and particularly of the place that he had selected for a home. So we got ready and as early in March as traveling was good we started for our new home. We arrived there the 16th of March, it being Sunday. The whole country was a natural park, and, combined with the ideal spring day that we reached there, made it seem to me like dreamland."We went to work in good earnest building a log cabin, but before we could complete it we were overtaken by the equinoctial storm, which gave us some very serious discomfort. The next thing to do was to put in some garden and sow some wheat. Will say that nature gave us a bountiful yield in both field and garden."During this season we suffered some privations in food. For instance, at times we had to substitute boiled wheat for bread. It is hardly necessary to say that we did not do this from choice, but having plenty of wild meat, milk and butter, we could have a meal that would hardly pass muster now, but I can assure you that a person would be a long time starving to death on it. We neverhad any shortage of breadstuffs after the first season, for there was a grist-mill built in the immediate neighborhood the next year, where we could get flour any time."Mr. Gilliam's brief reference to Dr. Whitman is of special value:"A large share of the immigrants who wintered at Dr. Whitman's during the season settled in our immediate neighborhood and I learned a great deal about the Doctor's character from them. It seemed as if he had made a deep impression on them, for they talked a great deal about him, and from their talk I came to have a high regard for him. They told me that he would come home from Wallula, a distance of twenty-five miles, before breakfast, or if necessary go up to where they were building the sawmill, a distance of eighteen miles, before breakfast. In fact, his energy seemed to have no bounds and no obstacle with him seemed insurmountable. It was this summer of 1845 that he visited Willamette Valley and while there he called on my father, and as it happened I was away from home and therefore failed to see him, a circumstance that I have always regretted, more especially since he has become such an important figure in history."The portraiture of early conditions in the Willamette, reference to his father's death, gold discovery, and then settlement in the Walla Walla country follow:"The immigration of 1847 brought from Washington City father's appointment as postal agent with instructions from the Post Office Department concerning the same. On a recent visit with my sister at Dallas, Ore., who has all the papers, I had the pleasure of inspecting them anew. I found them queer reading from our standpoint."In the fall of 1847 father disposed of the place we settled on and moved up the country about twelve miles and bought a place on Pedee. This fall one of my sisters married. In the meantime some Indians had become acquainted with us and were living in the immediate neighborhood. They took some interest in the wedding and were very curious to know what her husband gave for her, it being their custom to sell their daughters into marriage. They were surprised beyond measure when told that she was given to him."It was November of this year that the Whitman massacre occurred. Father was at once notified that he was requested to take command and of the volunteers that were to be raised to march against the hostile Indians. He left home abruptly early in December, never to return. His death was the heaviest blow that has ever befallen me."The next year was one long to be remembered in Oregon. It was the year of the discovery of gold in California. It was late in August that reports of the discovery began to reach Oregon. They reported the mines to be so rich that at first they were discredited; but they were soon confirmed in such a way as to relieve all doubts. It would be hard to exaggerate the excitement that was raised upon the confirmation of the news. In fact, it would be hard to excite a community in any other way to the pitch ours was on this occasion, more especially when we consider how small it was. Everybody that could get away dropped their business and left. My brother-in-law and I rigged ourselves out with a saddle horse and pack-horse apiece and started. We had to travel through the Rogue River and Klamath countries in considerable bands to protect ourselves against the hostile Indians, but by the time we got to where it was dangerous we had fallen inwith plenty of company, so we had no trouble on that score. We passed through the hostile country without being attacked or having any horses stolen. In fact, to me it was a trip that afforded me some of the keenest kind of pleasure, new scenery every day and some of it, Mt. Shasta, for instance, was of the grandest kind. It was the first time I had left the parental roof."When we got well into the Sacramento Valley, just after we had struck camp, an acquaintance rode into camp with his pack-horse and proceeded to camp with us. He had a thrilling story to tell of his previous night's experience. It seemed that the company he traveled with through the hostile country were highly disagreeable to him, so when they reached the Sacramento Valley, where the Indians were friendly, he tore himself away from it and was traveling alone. During the first day of his lone travel he bought a salmon of the Indians. When he camped that night he cooked part of the salmon for supper and laid the balance within a few feet of where he made his bed. After retiring, while looking out into the increasing gloom, he saw an approaching form that looked as large as a covered wagon. His bearship, for such it was, very coolly and unconcernedly appropriated the remainder of the salmon and sat down within a few feet of him and quietly ate it. After eating he still sat there, seeming to ponder on what to do next. In the meantime the campfire got into the dry grass and burnt towards where Mr. Bear was sitting. When it got unpleasantly near him he slowly moved away and disappeared. Some Indians were at the camp in the morning and were shown the track. They assured him the best they could that he was very fortunate in not being served up for a supper for Mr. Bear. When he reached our camp and narrated the circumstance he remarked that he had concluded that he would not camp alone any more."I went into the mines and worked with only fair success until late next spring, when I became homesick, and not appreciating the opportunities as I would have in later life, I returned home, where I arrived the 16th of June, 1849."After resting a few days I visited a camp meeting that was in progress near Salem. I had visited the meeting at the same grounds the year before. I was very forcibly impressed with the difference in the dress of the people in the two years. The first year, before California had poured her wealth of gold into the country, the people were dressed in very plain pioneer style, the men in buckskin pants with the balance of the suit corresponding, the women in calicoes and muslin. But this year it was very evident that they had freely availed themselves of the privilege that the great quantity of gold that had found its way to Oregon gave them to improve their attire, for in the case of the men broadcloth had taken the place of buckskin, and in the women silks and satins had replaced calico and gingham."In 1851 there was a vacancy in the sheriff's office and I was appointed by the county commissioners to fill the vacancy. During my incumbency, in the discharge of my duty as sheriff, it fell to my lot to execute a death warrant by hanging a man by the name of Everman, who had committed a very foul murder. It was not a very pleasant duty to perform and most certainly one that I never wanted to be called on to repeat. This was the first execution for murder in Polk County, and I think the second in the territory, excepting the Indians that were hung at Oregon City for the murder of Doctor Whitman and others."There was another circumstance that grew out of the murder case thatgave me the unenviable distinction of being the only man that ever put up a white man at auction and sold him to the highest bidder. The man in question was a brother of the above murderer. He was found guilty of being accessory to the murder after the fact, which would entitle him to a term in the penitentiary. There was no penitentiary in the territory at that time, and the judge in sentencing him to a term made the provision in the order that in default of there being a penitentiary he be sold to the highest bidder for the same term that he was sentenced to the penitentiary. Some of my lawyer friends tell me that the judge assumed a very doubtful right in so sentencing the culprit; but no legal move was made to invalidate the judge's order, so the matter rested."The above execution occurred on the 11th of May, 1852. That year my future wife crossed the plains and settled in the neighborhood where I lived. After a year's acquaintance we were married and moved onto a donation claim that I had three miles northwest of Dallas. At this time I was engaged in cattle raising."We lived here until 1859, when I became disgusted with the long, wet, dreary winters. That, coupled with the growing shortage of public pasturage, caused us to sell and seek a country with less winter rains and more public range. From what we could hear of the Walla Walla country we concluded that the winter weather and range were about what we wanted, so we at once decided to emigrate thither. In July I gathered up the cattle and started. The journey was somewhat tedious, a part of it being over dusty roads and the weather at times hot. I reached Dry Creek at Mr. Aldrich's place, early in August. I bought a man's claim just above the Aldrich place. I stayed some two weeks getting the cattle settled on the range. I started back for the family the first day of September, traveling with saddle-and pack-horse."On my way back I had the good fortune to fall in with an immigrant who had been in Oregon and knew the locality where my land was, to sell him my farm, and was thus relieved from being detained on that account."I reached home in twelve days after leaving Dry Creek and found the folks all well. We hurriedly made arrangements for our departure to the place that I had selected for our new home. We bundled our household goods into a wagon, bade good-bye to our friends and started. We drove over the country to Portland, where we put the wagon and team on the boat and got on ourselves, and finally landed at The Dalles. From there we took the wagon to Walla Walla, arriving at our new home the 23rd of October."There was nothing there in the shape of a house but a miserable hut that would neither protect us from the rain or cold. Therefore it was very important to build a house at the earliest possible time. I took a man with me into the mountains to assist me in getting out the timbers, and put another one to hauling them as fast as we got them cut; so it was but a few days till we had the material on the ground with which to build a cabin. We at once put it up and finished it so as to make it endurable for the winter."This was a tolerably severe winter, a great deal of snow and cold weather; but the stock got through in good shape for the reason that the grass was fine in the late fall, which put them in good shape to withstand bad weather; and the country was all open so that they could range on to the creeks and browse when the grass was covered with snow. As to ourselves, we got along fairly well inthe line of provisions, but I can assure you we did not enjoy any delicacies. We had plenty of bread, meat and potatoes, but as to the bread I remember that at times I had to work for it. When the flour was low I had to take corn to a neighbor's who had a steel hand mill, and grind it into meal. I think any person who has ever had the experience of grinding on a hand mill, in the matter of recollection will be like myself, that is, he will remember it."When spring came, the first I did was to gather up the cattle that had got considerably scattered. When that was attended to we went to seeding and planting garden. The season being very favorable everything planted grew luxuriantly. I have never since seen such a crop of potatoes as we raised that year. We estimated the crop at 600 bushels per acre, and I am inclined to believe that it was over rather than under the estimate. I often hear people remark that it rains more now than when the country was first settled. I can confidently say that there has never been a season in which more rain fell in summer season, with possibly the exception of 1862, than fell this season of 1860. I heard remarked that had it not been for the peculiar nature of our soil that readily absorbed it the crops would have been generally drowned out. I look back upon this season as being one of the most enjoyable of my life. The summer was all that we could want it to be. I heartily enjoyed looking over the beautiful country, fresh from the hands of nature and unmarred by the hands of man; everything seemed to smile. The country became endeared to me and I have never seriously thought of making any other place my home."To give an idea of how little people then in the country knew of its value, when it was being surveyed it was talked among the people that it was a waste of Government money to survey it, for the reason that there was so little of it fit for settlement; and today you could not get an acre of that land for less than forty dollars. [At present date about a hundred and forty.] It was universally believed that all the country was worth anything for was its grazing qualities, excepting the low bottoms, which were known to be very productive. Everybody who came to the country then came with the intention of raising stock on the fine pasturage that the country afforded. Nobody came with the intention of farming, for the reason that it was thought that a very small part of the country would produce grain."In 1861 I was elected a member of the Territorial Legislature, which I have always thought was unfortunate for me, for the reason that the following winter was the hard winter and my presence at home would have been very desirable and beneficial to my interests. As soon as the legislature adjourned, although the severe weather was still in evidence, I started at once for home. We traveled in public conveyance as far as Monticello. We found the Columbia thoroughly frozen up and waited a few days, hoping that there might be a breakup, but as the bad weather continued and showed no signs of a change, Mr. Moore, a member of the Legislature, and I concluded to start on foot for The Dalles. It was one of the hardest trips I ever had. We traveled mostly on the ice, but at times would take to the land, where trails were beaten between neighbors in the snow who lived along the shore. We were fortunate enough to find lodging every night and to procure meals when we wanted them."After about a week of weary traveling we reached The Dalles, where we got saddle horses. A Wells, Fargo & Co. messenger fell in with us here, whichswelled our company to three. We had traveled a couple of days when my two comrades became badly afflicted with snow blindness. The trail had been broken through the snow, but had later filled up with fresh snow. It took the practiced eye to follow it. My comrades being snowblinded it devolved on me to lead and break the way. The weather at times was intensely cold, but we found lodging every night except one; luckily for us, it happened to be one of the mildest nights we had, and with some blankets we passed the night fairly comfortably."We reached Walla Walla about the last of February. The war was raging then to such an extent and travel impeded that we brought news that was six weeks old."I found my folks all well and hearty, but the destruction of our stock was something frightful. When I looked them up later I found about ten per cent of them alive; but being in the prime of life and enjoying perfect health I was not discouraged."This season the Orofino and Florence mines poured wealth into the country to such an extent that money was very plentiful and produce very high. I succeeded in putting in a large lot of potatoes and vegetables and some grain. The season being highly favorable everything grew splendidly and produced abundantly and brought a very high price, potatoes selling at four and one-half cents per pound and other things in proportion; so at the end of the year I had to a large extent retrieved the losses that I had sustained by the severity of the winter."Ever since I had heard so much about Doctor Whitman from the immigrants who wintered with him in 1844, and especially after his tragic death, I had become interested in him and in the site of his mission, but had never visited it. In June this year I took a day for it and got on my horse and rode to the old site. Father Eells was occupying it then. I told him the object of my visit. He was very kind indeed and took a great deal of pains in showing me about the place and explaining things the best he could. He took me to the ruins of the old adobe building and explained the plan of it and showed me the spot where Doctor Whitman, according to reports, must have fallen. He then took me to where the victims of the massacre were buried, and while standing there one of us kicked the loose dirt and turned up the lower jaw bone of one of the victims. One of the teeth in the bone was filled with gold. We buried it as well as we could without tools and inferred from the circumstance that they had been buried in shallow graves or been dug up by badgers. I went home feeling that I had been well rewarded for my ride."The next year, 1863, I was elected sheriff. I have nothing to report that was unusual during my term, the usual routine of business incident to the office and no executions for murder or anything else worth speaking about. At the same time I was appointed deputy collector of internal revenue under Philip D. Moore. The duties of this position were simply collecting revenue that fell to the Government. The most unpleasant part of my duties was my responsibility for the considerable sums of money that I had in my possession."After the expiration of my term I returned to the farm and entered into the usual humdrum routine pertaining to farm life."In 1869, for the first time since leaving, I took a trip to Oregon. The election occurred the day before I started. The telegraph line had reached Umatilla.When the boat landed there the messenger went immediately to the telegraph office with the election news. This was my first contact with the telegraph, and it was hard for me to realize that while the operator was sending the dispatch at that very moment it was being received in Portland."At The Dalles we met the first tourist who had come on the newly completed transcontinental railroad to San Francisco and from thence by steamer to Portland and from Portland by river steamers to The Dalles."I went to Dallas, where most of my people lived. I had a very enjoyable visit, having been away ten years. In due time I returned home and found the folks all well."My reminiscences having come down to and partly including the year 1869, the year that the transcontinental railroad was completed, I think about this time they should lose their character as pioneer reminiscences and thus far their interest to the public; for I think the future historian will draw the line between those who came in an ox-team and those who came on the railroads. So I feel that my task is done, and when a person's work is finished it is a good time to quit."From the reminiscences of Mr. Gilliam we turn to those of one of the honored builders, still living in Walla Walla, F. W. Paine. As one of the earliest business men of the region, Mr. Paine is peculiarly qualified to give a picture of the business men and conditions in Walla Walla in the early '60s. We feel ourselves fortunate to be able to present this article from his pen:BUSINESS MEN OF THE '60s"In approaching the subject I realize my utter inability to fitly handle even so small a quota of so large a class, which comprises men of the most eminent minds from among whom are found the financial geniuses to solve the most intricate problems of the world's commerce, from among whose ranks have been chosen by their fellow countrymen men to occupy and administer the highest offices of the nation, and the contingent which I am about to consider, the business men of Walla Walla, has afforded men of more than local fame, not only in their own calling, but men as well who have been chosen from their own sphere to fill places of honor from city councilman to United States senator; the achievements of this class impel the conclusion that the calling of general merchandising affords a training which adapts the mind to the handling of large affairs. To come to my subject, as I now recall the appearance of Main Street, the home of the business man in the spring of 1862, as I first beheld it, it might be described as a development of the old Indian trail along the natural elevation of the south bank of Mill Creek, forming a dry ridge much used by the Indians in horse racing before the whites appropriated it for the more advanced purposes of a business street, which, by the way, established its own azimuth which still maintains and which incidentally misses all the cardinal points of compass. Architecturally viewed it would seem that the earliest occupants of this street differed in their opinions as to the established width, for at that time there was gross irregularity in the building line, as well as ups and downs in the sidewalks, each owner apparently deeming it his own affair, that of fixing the line. When building his house, sidewalk, and frequently a board awning on scantling supports, toafford a show place for his merchandise, while in the matter of the building line 'the crooked have been made straight, the rough places have not all been made plain,' a few still remain perhaps to attest the tenacity of error. With this much for outside appearances let us now step inside where we are met by the subject of this sketch, a business man of Walla Walla, a man approaching middle life, of good presence, well informed on the country in general, its business prospects and opportunities, his stock of merchandise, and his patrons, who, if stockmen, ranged from the Cascades to the Rocky Mountains; if a packer his range was nearly as wide, or if a miner his field covered much the same vast territory, the magnitude of which seemed to be measurably reflected in the men who partook of its largess, for the merchants of early Walla Walla were of the stalwart type who rose to the occasion and occupied the field in a creditable manner, for few of the class known in California as 'Cheap Johns,' ever tarried long in Walla Walla. They came but soon recognized their betters and left for more congenial surroundings. As time sped on and the country settled up business grew to be more complex in its administering. Gold dust and gold and silver bars as important factors in the circulating medium, gave place to gold and silver coin, and greenbacks brought in by the immigrants of the middle '60s were tolerated at fifty to seventy-five cents on the dollar, but no lesser coin than a twenty-five cent piece was accepted in exchange for merchandise and even the saloons treated anything smaller with disdain; but the country was filling up with settlers, and as they became fixed and permanent citizens, credits were extended, some of the leading houses even in the early years, carrying heavy accounts with farmers and stockmen. This necessitated the merchants' assistance in marketing their products, thus these business houses became dealers in wool, wheat, barley, etc., which continued for many years and proved a substantial source of revenue which went far toward helping out the year's profits and also encouraged investments in other lines, such as transportation facilities, flouring mills and various manufactures, in which the business man frequently took the lead, as he did in most of the important doings of the day; for instance, in the matter of public spirit a record may be found in his generous subscriptions to induce the construction of railroads, for the building of hospitals, churches and educational institutions, and for their maintenance, and again in the voting of taxes for public schools and public buildings, both of the city and county. This matter of voting taxes brings to mind that even this early, politics was an institution to be reckoned with, but the business man seldom sought its honors. His political creed was, business before pleasure or politics. When election day came around he voted his party ticket and enjoyed the diversion, so it did not interfere with business. He seldom accepted office, and then only as a matter of duty, but when such responsibilities were undertaken they were discharged with fidelity to the trust imposed."Of his religion he took a less serious view, but his hand was ever open to the deserving in a good cause, it mattered not from whence the call. To illustrate, in the early days there came to this city a man most devout, a reserved and gentle mannered man, who, finding no church of his denomination, proceeded to build one near to the business district. He contributed largely of his own rather limited means and completed the building. Among the many brilliant sermons delivered from its pulpit were some very caustic and pointed, directlyaimed at the shortcomings of the business world. He became noted for his good work, both in and out of the pulpit, but one day his church was accidentally burned, a total loss and no insurance. Whereupon a prominent business man (who for himself had little use for churches) seemingly prompted by his sense of justice, and as he said, 'a desire to see a good man get a square deal,' took prompt action and with a subscription list headed by a liberal sum, set against his own name, he proceeded to interview the business places, omitting none. Everything that was operated for money was in business to him, at least for that day, and was assessed and collection made at the same time. When he had made the round of Main Street, even before the ashes were cold, he had enough to build a new church. No one asked was the money tainted, but the church was built and much good resulted therefrom. One other instance I recall, when a preacher who had gathered many souls into his fold, somewhat on his merits as a good 'mixer' (this word belongs to politics, but if the good man could say even now he would approve its use here). After he had scheduled members enough to justify building a church he went among the brethren for subscriptions. Meeting two of his business acquaintances he made known his plans to which they readily subscribed a generous sum, only conditioned upon his steeple rising higher than that of the church across the street. To this he readily assented, and the spire stands today to attest his good works."Some historian has said, 'History is not written with a microscope,' nor should it be written with one's eye blinded to events that it were better had never occurred, but so long as man continues to indulge erroneous thoughts, those thoughts will be expressed in actions which, with their effects, will be recorded. So, notwithstanding the enviable record of the average business man of his day, there was the inevitable exception when someone went wrong, or, so to say, was swept off his feet by the lure of the open games of chance, presided over by the man with the starched shirt and polished nails. Such heaps of gold and silver, bags of dust even all so temptingly lay, just waiting the turn of a card, the jingling of coins, the hustle and murmur of the crowds, the glint and dazzle of the lights, the music and the song, the tinkle of the glasses, the odor of cocktails and champagne, a perfect riot of sensations, and over all that transport of abandon so free of all restraint, 'society' looked on complacently, law lacked an introduction, but 'twas all so sociable he took a hand or perchance bought a few chips and the better to celebrate his first winning, ordered a cocktail and cigar, and then was soon on the road that men of all callings frequented in the very early days. Little wonder that an occasional business man was found among the discard."Elsewhere I note that occasion was had to mention so many of the names of firms and men in business in the early days, that I will not attempt to repeat them, suffice to say that rare and potent conditions must have worked together to produce a force of men so fitting to the time and place as were these, to prosecute their chosen calling as a means to success; some, to be sure, looking only to a temporary stay which as time wore on, grew to be permanent, others, casting their lot with the county from the beginning, remained to amass fortunes of no mean proportions. Several having reached business limitations here, naturally gravitated to larger cities, to enjoy a wider field of operations, where they continued to court the Goddess of Fortune successfully. Of those whoremained many have attained to places of honor, and of few indeed could it be said that the world was no better for their having lived in it, and taken as a whole, the history of the county would be sadly abbreviated were it to be deprived of a record of their doings."One of the best known of the pioneer families of Walla Walla is that of the Ferrels. As a charming narrative of the typical events of a journey across the plains and settlement in Walla Walla in the early days, we incorporate here a paper by Mrs. Brewster Ferrel.A WOMAN'S EXPERIENCE CROSSING THE PLAINSMay 1, 1864.We started from Corydon, Wayne County, Iowa, to travel the wild and desolate plains and seek a home in Walla Walla, Wash. This is a true story, but before you get through reading it you will not wonder at the people out west calling us green immigrants.My husband and I and our little boy, who was two years old, and my husband's brother, were all that came in our wagon. We had a good little mule team. I have had a kind regard for mules over since I took that trip. Did not know a mule could learn so much.The first day was a sad one going past our relatives and old neighbors' homes and stopping to say good-bye. Our people gave us little presents, tokens of love, and lots of good advice, such as, "be careful and don't let the Indians get you," or, "be a good girl and come back some day." Well, we did come back twenty-four years after, but not with a mule team.The first night we stayed at a house. Next morning the good woman said, "I will give you some pickled meat." So she went out in the meat house to get it, and there was a skunk drowned in the brine. We thanked her and got our meat at another place.The next night we camped out, the first I ever slept out of a house, and when bedtime came our little boy cried, oh, so hard to go home, but we got him quiet and slept well; that was one thing we could do on that trip.Woman-like, I was very much afraid of the bad roads. We had all of our belongings piled in that wagon, and among other things were our firearms. We came to a very bad place in the road. I took our little boy out of the wagon and we were walking behind when a shotgun that was lying in the wagon went off and the shot came very near us. Then I concluded in the wagon was the safest place and soon got so I was not afraid to ride over any kind of road.We traveled alone till we got to the Missouri River. Then we came to a string of wagons about a mile and a half long. They were waiting to be ferried over the river. We came there in the forenoon, and took our place in line and moved up as the wagons went over. We stayed there all that day and camped there that night. Next morning we got over.

PIONEER REMINISCENCES

This is a chapter of remembrances. The author has felt that the work would be incomplete without some space devoted to the personal experiences of those who made the history. Out of the vast amount of matter which might be available he has selected such narrations as cover the widest range and afford the greatest variety.

Some of these selections are of early letters, the writers of which have long since passed away. A few were prepared originally for the Inland Empire Pioneer Association. The larger number have been written especially for this work by those who are still actively engaged in the affairs of the community. It is with the belief that this collection of actual experiences and observations will constitute a chapter of present interest to the pioneers and will be a source of ever-increasing pleasure and instruction to their descendants, that the author gives it a place as the crowning feature of the book.

We first incorporate a letter by Doctor Whitman, never published before, significant of the life and conditions, as well as the habit of thought and mode of expression of that first stage in the history of Old Walla Walla. Doctor Whitman's letter gives a vivid view of the variety of interests with which he was concerned. It is as follows:

Waiilatpu, September 29, 1845.Rev. Elkanah Walker.Dear Brother: I take a moment only to write as Mr. Eells is soon to be off.The first thing I have to say is, will you send Cyrus here to school this winter in case we have one, which we expect we may? I. W. Gilbert, formerly my day and Sabbath School scholar, has come up from the Willamet and will be likely to winter here, and most likely we may employ him to teach.If you send you may do well to come this way as you go to Lapwai [Mr. Walker was located at Tshimakain in the Spokane country] and leave Cyrus here.Few of the immigrants call on us.Four hundred and fifty wagons passed Fort Hall, but from seventy to one hundred went to California and one hundred left the trail at Malade to go to Waskopum. As they are so early they have no great need of provisions short of The Dalles. Most are now passed.Mr. Eells can tell you about Mr. Green's letter to me. We can now have little hope of a reinforcement. I do not think it best for me to say anything in relation to the subject hinted at in your first, but may at another time.I am trying to burn some coal [charcoal] in order to have a little work done in the shop. I hope also to get a millwright for a few days to set the sawmill at work.We would like scholars enough to take some of our time, the more the better. Mrs. Whitman is anxious also and more than willing to have as many as possible.With esteem and expectation of seeing you and letting you have a first rate article of corn meal, with our united compliments to you all.Yours truly,Marcus Whitman.

Waiilatpu, September 29, 1845.

Rev. Elkanah Walker.

Dear Brother: I take a moment only to write as Mr. Eells is soon to be off.

The first thing I have to say is, will you send Cyrus here to school this winter in case we have one, which we expect we may? I. W. Gilbert, formerly my day and Sabbath School scholar, has come up from the Willamet and will be likely to winter here, and most likely we may employ him to teach.

If you send you may do well to come this way as you go to Lapwai [Mr. Walker was located at Tshimakain in the Spokane country] and leave Cyrus here.

Few of the immigrants call on us.

Four hundred and fifty wagons passed Fort Hall, but from seventy to one hundred went to California and one hundred left the trail at Malade to go to Waskopum. As they are so early they have no great need of provisions short of The Dalles. Most are now passed.

Mr. Eells can tell you about Mr. Green's letter to me. We can now have little hope of a reinforcement. I do not think it best for me to say anything in relation to the subject hinted at in your first, but may at another time.

I am trying to burn some coal [charcoal] in order to have a little work done in the shop. I hope also to get a millwright for a few days to set the sawmill at work.

We would like scholars enough to take some of our time, the more the better. Mrs. Whitman is anxious also and more than willing to have as many as possible.

With esteem and expectation of seeing you and letting you have a first rate article of corn meal, with our united compliments to you all.

Yours truly,

Marcus Whitman.

A letter of an earlier date than that of Doctor Whitman, by one of the immigrants of 1843, is of great interest for a number of reasons. We give it here as containing the spirit of that first genuine American immigration, the one that sealed the American possession of Oregon.

Waiilatpu, October 27, 1843.Jesse Looney to John C. Bond,Greenbush, Warren County, Ill.Dear Sir: I embrace the opportunity of writing to you from this far western country afforded me by the return of Lieutenant Fremont to the States this winter. He thinks he will be at Independence, Mo., by January next, which will be in time for those who intend coming next season to this country to get some information about the necessary preparations to be ready for the journey.It is a long and tiresome trip from the States to this country, but the company of emigrants came through safely this season to the number of 1000 persons with something over 100 wagons to this place, which is 250 miles east of the Willamet Valley, and, with the exception of myself and a few others, have all gone on down there, intending to go through this winter if possible. About half of them have traded off their stock at Walla Walla, twenty-five miles below here [he means the Hudson's Bay fort] and are going by water. The balance went on by land to the Methodist Mission, 175 miles below this, intending to take to the water there.I have stopped here in the Walla Walla Valley to spend the winter, in order to save my stock. This is a fine valley of land, excellent water, good climate, and the finest kind of pine timber on the surrounding mountains, and above all a good range for stock both summer and winter. The Indians are friendly and have plenty of grain and potatoes, and a good many hogs and cattle. The missionaries at this and other missions have raised fine crops of wheat, corn, potatoes, etc., so that provisions can be procured here upon as good or better terms than in the lower settlements at present. Cattle are valuable here, especially American cattle. Things induced me to stop here for the winter, save my stock and take them down in the spring.In preparing for the journey of Rocky Mountains, you cannot be too particular in choice of a wagon. It should be strong in every part and yet it should not be very heavy. The large size, two-horse Yankee wagons are the most substantial wagons I have seen for this trip. You should haul nothing but your clothing, bedding and provisions. Goods are cheaper here than in the States. Let your main load be provisions—flour and bacon. Put in about as much loadinging as one yoke of cattle can draw handily, and then put on three good yoke of cattle and take an extra yoke for change in case of failure from lameness or sore necks, and you can come without any difficulty. The road is good, much better than we had expected, but is long. Bring all the loose cattle you can, especially milk cows and heifers. Do not attempt to bring calves. They will not come through, and by losing them you will be in danger of losing their mothers.I cannot urge you too strongly to be sure to bring plenty of provisions; don't depend on the game you may get. You may get some and you may not. It is uncertain. We were about five months on the way to this place, and I had plenty of flour, etc., to do me, but most of the company were out long before they got here, and there is little or nothing in the way of provisions to be had at the forts on the way. I would advise you to lay in plenty for at least five months, for if you get out on the way you will have trouble to get any till you get here. I would advise you to start as soon as the grass will admit. We might have started near a month sooner than we did, and then would have been here in time to have gone through with our cattle this winter. We left Independence, Mo., the 22d of May and we are just about a month too late. Myself and family were all sick when we left and continued till we left Blue River, and the rain and wind, but when we reached the highlands along the Platte we began to mend. My health is better than for years, and so far as I have seen this country I think it is very healthy. There was five or six deaths on the road, some by sickness and some by accident, and there were eight or ten births. Upon the whole we fared much better than we expected. We had no interruptions from the Indians. Our greatest difficulty was in crossing rivers. Mrs. L. says prepare with good strong clothing or sage brush will strip you.This shrub is very plenty, and was hard on our teams, especially those that went before, but it will not be so bad on those that come next year, for we have left a plain, well beaten road all the way. I will have a better opportunity of giving you accounts of this country next spring, and I want you to write the first chance and to direct to the settlement of Willamet.So no more, but remain,Your brother till death,Jesse Looney.

Waiilatpu, October 27, 1843.

Jesse Looney to John C. Bond,

Greenbush, Warren County, Ill.

Dear Sir: I embrace the opportunity of writing to you from this far western country afforded me by the return of Lieutenant Fremont to the States this winter. He thinks he will be at Independence, Mo., by January next, which will be in time for those who intend coming next season to this country to get some information about the necessary preparations to be ready for the journey.

It is a long and tiresome trip from the States to this country, but the company of emigrants came through safely this season to the number of 1000 persons with something over 100 wagons to this place, which is 250 miles east of the Willamet Valley, and, with the exception of myself and a few others, have all gone on down there, intending to go through this winter if possible. About half of them have traded off their stock at Walla Walla, twenty-five miles below here [he means the Hudson's Bay fort] and are going by water. The balance went on by land to the Methodist Mission, 175 miles below this, intending to take to the water there.

I have stopped here in the Walla Walla Valley to spend the winter, in order to save my stock. This is a fine valley of land, excellent water, good climate, and the finest kind of pine timber on the surrounding mountains, and above all a good range for stock both summer and winter. The Indians are friendly and have plenty of grain and potatoes, and a good many hogs and cattle. The missionaries at this and other missions have raised fine crops of wheat, corn, potatoes, etc., so that provisions can be procured here upon as good or better terms than in the lower settlements at present. Cattle are valuable here, especially American cattle. Things induced me to stop here for the winter, save my stock and take them down in the spring.

In preparing for the journey of Rocky Mountains, you cannot be too particular in choice of a wagon. It should be strong in every part and yet it should not be very heavy. The large size, two-horse Yankee wagons are the most substantial wagons I have seen for this trip. You should haul nothing but your clothing, bedding and provisions. Goods are cheaper here than in the States. Let your main load be provisions—flour and bacon. Put in about as much loadinging as one yoke of cattle can draw handily, and then put on three good yoke of cattle and take an extra yoke for change in case of failure from lameness or sore necks, and you can come without any difficulty. The road is good, much better than we had expected, but is long. Bring all the loose cattle you can, especially milk cows and heifers. Do not attempt to bring calves. They will not come through, and by losing them you will be in danger of losing their mothers.

I cannot urge you too strongly to be sure to bring plenty of provisions; don't depend on the game you may get. You may get some and you may not. It is uncertain. We were about five months on the way to this place, and I had plenty of flour, etc., to do me, but most of the company were out long before they got here, and there is little or nothing in the way of provisions to be had at the forts on the way. I would advise you to lay in plenty for at least five months, for if you get out on the way you will have trouble to get any till you get here. I would advise you to start as soon as the grass will admit. We might have started near a month sooner than we did, and then would have been here in time to have gone through with our cattle this winter. We left Independence, Mo., the 22d of May and we are just about a month too late. Myself and family were all sick when we left and continued till we left Blue River, and the rain and wind, but when we reached the highlands along the Platte we began to mend. My health is better than for years, and so far as I have seen this country I think it is very healthy. There was five or six deaths on the road, some by sickness and some by accident, and there were eight or ten births. Upon the whole we fared much better than we expected. We had no interruptions from the Indians. Our greatest difficulty was in crossing rivers. Mrs. L. says prepare with good strong clothing or sage brush will strip you.

This shrub is very plenty, and was hard on our teams, especially those that went before, but it will not be so bad on those that come next year, for we have left a plain, well beaten road all the way. I will have a better opportunity of giving you accounts of this country next spring, and I want you to write the first chance and to direct to the settlement of Willamet.

So no more, but remain,

Your brother till death,

Jesse Looney.

In connection with these letters dealing with the mission at Waiilatpu and the immigration of 1843, we wish to include two of much interest, not hitherto published, both dealing with Doctor Whitman. These are letters of much later date than the preceding, though pertaining to the times of the mission.

The first of these is by Perrin Whitman to W. H. Gray. Perrin Whitman lived many years at Lewiston and was well known in all that region.

Letter from Perrin Whitman to W. H. Gray:

Lapwai Station, October 11, 1880.About the 20th of April, 1843, I left Rushville, Yates County, N. Y., with Dr. Marcus Whitman (my uncle) for Oregon. I distinctly remember of his telling his mother and friends that his visit with them would be necessarily short, as he had on his way east from Oregon, notified all who were desirous ofemigrating to Oregon to rendezvous at Westport and Independence, Mo., and that he would pilot them with their wagons across the Rocky Mountains to the Columbia River. The immigration, consisting of about one hundred and twenty wagons, left the Missouri line about the last of May and reached Waiilatpu (Walla Walla Valley) about the 5th of the following September.The doctor piloted them the whole distance, as he had promised to do. Gen. J. C. Fremont (at that time a lieutenant) arrived at Waiilatpu with his Government train across the plains a few weeks after the arrival of our immigration.Doctor Whitman's trip east in the winter of 1842 and '43 was for the double purpose of bringing the immigration across the plains, also prevent, if possible, the trading off of this northwest coast to the British Government. I learned from him that the Mission Board censured him in strong terms for having left his missionary duty and engaged in another so foreign from the one they had sent him to perform. While crossing the plains I repeatedly heard the doctor express himself as being very anxious to succeed in opening a wagon road across the continent to the Columbia River, and thereby stay, if not entirely prevent, the trade of this northwest coast, then pending between the United States and the British Government.In after years the doctor with much pride and satisfaction reverted to his success in bringing the immigration across the plains and thought it one of the means of saving Oregon to his Government. I remained with him continuously till August, 1847, when he sent me to The Dalles. He was murdered the following November.The above statement is correct and true, so help me God.P. B. Whitman.

Lapwai Station, October 11, 1880.

About the 20th of April, 1843, I left Rushville, Yates County, N. Y., with Dr. Marcus Whitman (my uncle) for Oregon. I distinctly remember of his telling his mother and friends that his visit with them would be necessarily short, as he had on his way east from Oregon, notified all who were desirous ofemigrating to Oregon to rendezvous at Westport and Independence, Mo., and that he would pilot them with their wagons across the Rocky Mountains to the Columbia River. The immigration, consisting of about one hundred and twenty wagons, left the Missouri line about the last of May and reached Waiilatpu (Walla Walla Valley) about the 5th of the following September.

The doctor piloted them the whole distance, as he had promised to do. Gen. J. C. Fremont (at that time a lieutenant) arrived at Waiilatpu with his Government train across the plains a few weeks after the arrival of our immigration.

Doctor Whitman's trip east in the winter of 1842 and '43 was for the double purpose of bringing the immigration across the plains, also prevent, if possible, the trading off of this northwest coast to the British Government. I learned from him that the Mission Board censured him in strong terms for having left his missionary duty and engaged in another so foreign from the one they had sent him to perform. While crossing the plains I repeatedly heard the doctor express himself as being very anxious to succeed in opening a wagon road across the continent to the Columbia River, and thereby stay, if not entirely prevent, the trade of this northwest coast, then pending between the United States and the British Government.

In after years the doctor with much pride and satisfaction reverted to his success in bringing the immigration across the plains and thought it one of the means of saving Oregon to his Government. I remained with him continuously till August, 1847, when he sent me to The Dalles. He was murdered the following November.

The above statement is correct and true, so help me God.

P. B. Whitman.

The next letter is from Judge O. S. Pratt, the territorial judge who presided at the trial of the Indians implicated in the Whitman massacre. It was addressed to Mrs. Catherine Sager Pringle, one of the adopted children of Doctor Whitman, evidently in response to inquiries for information.

While the facts which it states might be known from other sources, it is of much interest as a summary of the permanent views of Judge Pratt upon the life and character of Doctor Whitman.

San Francisco, March 4, 1882.Dear Madam: In my reply to your letter of January 20th last, I wrote you I thought the late Doctor Whitman was born in Ontario County, N. Y. I said I would soon know as I had just written to a friend who had the means of knowing the doctor's birthplace and would be likely to send me exact information on the subject. In reply to a letter, which I caused to be written to Mrs. Henry F. Wisewell, residing at Naples in Ontario County, N. Y., who is the doctor's sister and the only surviving member of his father's family, I received today, under date of February 22, 1882, an answer dictated by her, stating that "Marcus Whitman was born in Rushville, Ontario County, N. Y., September 4, 1802—the county then being very wild and new. In infancy he narrowly escaped death by burning, his cradle having taken fire from a brand falling out of the fireplace, when left alone. His father died in April, 1810; the same fall the son was sent to Plainfield, Mass., to live with his grandparents. He then attended school and returned to Rushville when eighteen years old. At thelatter place he studied medicine and received a diploma at the Fairfield (N. Y.) Medical College. He thereafter practiced medicine a short time in Canada, and afterwards for a few years near his native place. The Rev. Mr. Parker of Ithaca, N. Y., while preaching in the interior of that state on behalf of the Northwestern Indians, became acquainted with Doctor Whitman; and the latter having become deeply interested in Mr. Parker's efforts, first went with him to explore Oregon in the spring of 1835, and returned to his native village about Christmas of the same year, bringing with him two Indian boys. They were sent to school and learned rapidly and were soon able to read well and write legibly."In February, 1836, the doctor married Miss Narcissa Prentiss, a resident of Prattsburg, N. Y., and not far from his native village, who, with the doctor and the Rev. and Mrs. Spalding and the Indian boys, left April, 1836, for Oregon, their mission field, traveling west of the Mississippi, with pack horses and mules. Mrs. Whitman and Mrs. Spalding are understood to have been the first white women who ever crossed the Rocky Mountains. The doctor thereafter returned but once, starting October 7, 1842, and reached New York April 2, 1843, having suffered many hardships by the way, sleeping for the most part on the ground, and being at one time without food five days, and in his greatest extremity was compelled to kill his dogs to sustain life. From New York, before visiting his family, he hurried to Washington on his mission with the Government, which was to secure, if possible, Oregon to the United States. Not long afterwards he returned to his home west of the Rocky Mountains, and was, as is well known, massacred with his wife and others by the Indians, November 29, 1847."I trust the foregoing, which may rightly be treated as authentic, will leave no uncertainty as to the birthplace and some of the important facts connected with the history of the late Doctor Whitman's useful life.Respectfully yours,O. S. Pratt.

San Francisco, March 4, 1882.

Dear Madam: In my reply to your letter of January 20th last, I wrote you I thought the late Doctor Whitman was born in Ontario County, N. Y. I said I would soon know as I had just written to a friend who had the means of knowing the doctor's birthplace and would be likely to send me exact information on the subject. In reply to a letter, which I caused to be written to Mrs. Henry F. Wisewell, residing at Naples in Ontario County, N. Y., who is the doctor's sister and the only surviving member of his father's family, I received today, under date of February 22, 1882, an answer dictated by her, stating that "Marcus Whitman was born in Rushville, Ontario County, N. Y., September 4, 1802—the county then being very wild and new. In infancy he narrowly escaped death by burning, his cradle having taken fire from a brand falling out of the fireplace, when left alone. His father died in April, 1810; the same fall the son was sent to Plainfield, Mass., to live with his grandparents. He then attended school and returned to Rushville when eighteen years old. At thelatter place he studied medicine and received a diploma at the Fairfield (N. Y.) Medical College. He thereafter practiced medicine a short time in Canada, and afterwards for a few years near his native place. The Rev. Mr. Parker of Ithaca, N. Y., while preaching in the interior of that state on behalf of the Northwestern Indians, became acquainted with Doctor Whitman; and the latter having become deeply interested in Mr. Parker's efforts, first went with him to explore Oregon in the spring of 1835, and returned to his native village about Christmas of the same year, bringing with him two Indian boys. They were sent to school and learned rapidly and were soon able to read well and write legibly.

"In February, 1836, the doctor married Miss Narcissa Prentiss, a resident of Prattsburg, N. Y., and not far from his native village, who, with the doctor and the Rev. and Mrs. Spalding and the Indian boys, left April, 1836, for Oregon, their mission field, traveling west of the Mississippi, with pack horses and mules. Mrs. Whitman and Mrs. Spalding are understood to have been the first white women who ever crossed the Rocky Mountains. The doctor thereafter returned but once, starting October 7, 1842, and reached New York April 2, 1843, having suffered many hardships by the way, sleeping for the most part on the ground, and being at one time without food five days, and in his greatest extremity was compelled to kill his dogs to sustain life. From New York, before visiting his family, he hurried to Washington on his mission with the Government, which was to secure, if possible, Oregon to the United States. Not long afterwards he returned to his home west of the Rocky Mountains, and was, as is well known, massacred with his wife and others by the Indians, November 29, 1847."

I trust the foregoing, which may rightly be treated as authentic, will leave no uncertainty as to the birthplace and some of the important facts connected with the history of the late Doctor Whitman's useful life.

Respectfully yours,

O. S. Pratt.

Turning now from the letters to special contributions we will first present one dealing with the Cayuse war, following the great tragedy at Waiilatpu. This contains the personal experience of W. W. Walter, an immigrant to the Walla Walla country of 1859. He lived many years near Prescott. This article was written from his dictation by his daughter, Mrs. Pettyjohn.

CAYUSE INDIAN WAR

By W. W. Walter

In December, 1847, word reached the settlements in Oregon that the Cayuse Indians had killed Doctor Whitman and wife and twelve others. A runner carried the word to Vancouver, and a messenger was at once dispatched to Oregon City to Governor Abernethy, while Peter Skeen Ogden, factor of the Hudson's Bay Company, with a small company of Hudson's Bay men set out at once for the scene of the massacre—where he accomplished his wonderful work of ransoming the white captives held by the Indians.

"No other power on earth," says Joe Meek, the American, "could haverescued those prisoners from the hands of the Indians." And no man better than Mr. Meek understood the Indian character, or the Hudson's Bay Company's power over them.

The Oregon Legislature was in session when the message from Vancouver arrived, telling of the massacre. A call was made at once for fifty riflemen to proceed at once to The Dalles—to guard the settlements below from an invasion of the Indians. This company was known as the "First Oregon Riflemen."

Word came that the Cayuse Indians were coming to kill all the settlers in Oregon, and it was deemed best to meet the hostiles on their own ground.

After the first fifty men had started for The Dalles, five companies of volunteers were organized. I went from Tualatin County (now Washington) in Capt. Lawrence Hall's company of volunteers—every man furnishing his own horse and equipment—every one who could contribute a gun, or a little powder and lead—that was the way we got our munitions of war.

We rendezvoused at Portland, awaiting marching orders, which were given about January 1, 1848. We were in Portland a week or more, and I remember myself and some other lads made a ride back to the Plains to attend a dance—Christmas week.

About January 1, 1848, we started for the Cayuse Country, three hundred men, all told—we marched across the country and ferried over the Columbia at Vancouver. There the Hudson's Bay Company let us have a cannon, and it was an elephant on our hands.

From Vancouver we traveled up the north side of the Columbia (dragging that old cannon along) to a place above the Cascades where we built a ferry boat and crossed the river again to the south side and followed up the trails to the Dalles. We still kept our cannon, making portages with it, and at the Dalles mounted the thing on a wagon. The fifty men stationed there to hold the Mission were greatly annoyed by the Indians, and just after we arrived a report was brought in that there were hostile Indians up the Deschutes River, and two of our men on horse guard were decoyed by the Indians and killed. It happened thus: The Indians stripped their horses and let them graze near the guards, giving the impression they were loose horses. Our men thought them their own horses and went after them, when the Indians, who were concealed in the grass with ropes on their horses, fired and killed the two men. Those were the first men killed in the war.

So when we heard of the Indians up the Deschutes we were anxious for a fight and started for them. The battleground was at the mouth of Tygh Creek on the ridge where we, as emigrants, had come down the Deschutes hill two years before. We met the Indians early in the morning. The first we knew of their whereabouts we saw them formed in line on the front of a high hill. To reach them we had to climb that hill, facing their fire. We left our horses and took it afoot up that hill, but they did not stand long—we soon routed them—we had but one man wounded. We followed up with continuous firing on both sides—then we had our horses brought up and gave chase. As the country was level on top the hill we followed them five or six miles—they outstripped us, as they had splendid fresh horses; we skirmished all that day—camped on the hill at night, then the next day followed on until we reached their deserted camp. There we found a very old and feeble Indian man and woman—too old to travel. They weredeserted and alone, with a little pile of food lying by them. They refused to talk, so we learned nothing from them—so we left them undisturbed and returned to the Dalles, where we fitted up some old emigrant wagons and got some emigrant cattle and Mission cattle, and made up a train of wagons to haul what little supplies we had with us. We now started for the upper country, following the old emigrant road.

We had our next encounter with the Indians at Wells Springs between Willow Creek and Butter Creek. We camped there for the night—in the morning we had just gotten out of camp when we began to see Indians—Indians in every direction, in squads of ten and fifty, just coming thick. There were enough of them to eat up our little band of three hundred. We went only about a mile and a half when Col. Gilliam called a halt and we began preparations for a fight.

It was estimated over one thousand Indians were on the ground. A party of chiefs came out and called for a talk. Col. Gilliam, Tom McKay, Charlie McKay and Mungo, the interpreter, went out to meet them. When they met it was learned there were Indians from all the northern tribes besides the Cayuses. There were Coeur d'Alenes, Flatheads, Pend d'Oreilles and Spokanes.

The Cayuses had sent runners to all the different tribes telling them the Whites in Oregon had killed all the Catholics and Hudson's Bay men who were friends to these Northern Indians—they told them they had killed Tom McKay, their best friend, and were now coming to kill them and take their country. But when an old chief met the commission, he saw and recognized old Tom McKay and knew then they had been deceived and asked an explanation.

When Tom McKay, who was intimately acquainted with those northern Indians, and whose influence over them exceeded that of any other man in the country, told them the true story and that they were only up there to punish the murderers of Dr. Whitman and people, the old Flathead chief promised to take no part and to draw off all except the Cayuses. When the haughty Cayuse chief, named Grey Eagle, heard this he was so enraged he turned on McKay and said, "I'll kill you, Tom McKay," and drew his gun to fire, but McKay was too quick for him and fired first, killing the chief.

Grey Eagle was a great medicine man, and had boasted he could swallow all the bullets fired at him and McKay shot him in the mouth. As the Indians turned to run, Charlie McKay shot Five Crows, breaking his arm, but he escaped. It will be remembered he was the Indian who held captive a girl from the Mission. Five Crows, however, shot the powder horn off McKay, so you can see they were in pretty close quarters.

We boys gave McKay great credit for the service he done us—for our little band of three hundred looked pretty small compared with the foe.

Now, the battle was fairly on. The Northern Indians drew off on a hill and the Cayuses made a dash on us, about six hundred strong, all well mounted, riding in a circle and firing whenever a chance came. The Indians never left their horses—if they dismounted, the horse was fastened to the rider. When an Indian was killed we would always find the horse standing by his fallen rider, usually tied by the hair rope to his wrist.

(The horse rode by Grey Eagle was a beautiful gray, and McKay's son Alec rode him many years.) The fight lasted the whole day long—that cannon that had caused so much vexation of spirit was of but little use, as the Indians scatteredso—it was fired a few times at a squad of Indians at long range—it served more to terrorize them than to kill, as it made a tremendous noise and they no doubt thought it great medicine. It was an impressive sight to see those hundreds of Northern Indians, splendidly mounted and armed after the Indian fashion, sitting on their horses at one side all day long, watching the progress of the fight. What a picture that would have made!

We camped that night on the battleground, but the next morning the Indians were gone. I think neither side could claim a victory. As we traveled that day Indians kept in sight all day, but did not interfere with us until we reached the Mission at Waiilatpu, where we performed the sad duty of gathering up the remains of the martyrs and burying them. We found parts of bodies lying around, scattered about. We found a skull with a tomahawk wound in it—we supposed it was that of Mrs. Whitman. We also found locks of her beautiful yellow hair in the yard. It was taken to Oregon City and placed among the Oregon State Documents.

We made a sort of stockade by building a wall breast high of adobe from the old buildings—also built a corral for the horses by placing rails end in the ground, and corraled the horses every night and guarded them by day. We slaughtered what cattle we could find and jerked the meat so we would have supplies in case we were corraled by the Indians. We subsisted on Indian and Mission cattle—no bread.

After getting settled in camp, parts of two companies, myself one of the number, escorted Joe Meek and his party to the snow line of the Blue Mountains as he started on his famous trip across the continent at midwinter, as an agent from Oregon, to ask protection of the United States Government for the suffering settlers in the wilds of Oregon. He was accompanied by Squire Ebberts and Nat Bowman, both mountain men, and three others. So we left the little party to pursue their journey amid untold perils while we returned to Fort Waters, as the Mission was now called. This was in February. About the first of March about eighty-five or ninety men were called to go out on a raid to gather up what cattle we could and learn what we could of the whereabouts of the hostiles. My company went, as we were the best mounted men in the command. Not thinking to be gone long, we rode light and took no provisions.

We traveled what was long known as the Nez Perces trails, cross the country to Copeii, where we were met by two friendly Indians. They told as the Cayuses were camped at the mouth of Tucanon. Our interpreter, Mungo, said he could pilot us there. We concluded to hunt them up.

So at dark we started going down Copeii, then across the country to Tucanon to where Starbuck now is. There we crossed and followed down the creek, reaching the encampment just at break of day. Just as we crossed Tucanon we ran onto an Indian guard, but he got away and ran to camp—so when we got near camp two Indians came out with a white flag. I will state here that runners had been sent with word that if friendly Indians would raise a flag of truce they would not be molested, as we were only seeking to punish the Cayuses. So when they sent out the flag and asked for a talk, Col. Gilliam went forward. They claimed to be Palouses and friendly to the Whites. Said the Cayuses had gone across Snake River, but had left lots of stock behind which they would turn over to the volunteers, and that they would go out and gather them in for us.So they began running in horses and cattle, we helping—and all went merrily along. However, we soon noticed the lodges going down as by magic and the boys on the hill saw them busily ferrying their families over the river, and asked why they were moving. They said their women were afraid of the Whites and wished to go. So by their cunning manœuvres they had detained us half a day, and we, without any food since the early morning before, were beginning to feel pretty hungry.

When they had delivered up all the stock, Col. Gilliam said we would drive out to grass and camp and eat. So we started out, but soon discovered we had been duped the worst way. They were the Cayuses—even the real murderers were there, and they were after us. Now there was no thought of eating. Indians on every side, yelling like demons, calling us women—afraid to fight. It was a running fight all day long and we were still holding the stock at night—in McKay Hollow, where we strung along the little hollow seeking shelter from the Indians by hiding behind the banks. We did not dare kindle a fire. On examination it was found thirty volunteers were wounded, but not dangerously. Our ammunition was about exhausted and we were half famished.

The older men and officers evidently realized we were in a pretty serious predicament, but we young boys had no idea of the danger we were in, not as I see it now. During the night Gilliam ordered the stock turned loose—as we were now about out of ammunition he hoped by turning the stock loose to get rid of the Indians. The boys objected to that move, but instead of the Indians leaving us that only renewed their courage. They thought we were giving up, and attacked us more savagely than ever. We were pretty well hidden and in no immediate danger, so we saved our ammunition and only fired when sure of an Indian—they frequently came in range when circling around us. In the morning they still hung on our heels. As we started out they followed us on—calling to Mungo repeatedly, asking why we did not stop to fight, while he abused them in return.

The Indians would drop behind until a bunch of us were a distance from the command, then make a dash, trying to cut us off, and we surely were not cautious. Tom Cornelius, Pete Engart and myself were a little behind when an Indian shot Engart in the calf of the leg. He fell from his horse, saying he was killed. Tom and I jumped from our horses and shook him up and told him he was not hurt—he gave up. We finally threw him up astride his horse—we cursed him and told him to ride—and he rode. By this time the Indians were on us and the boys ahead had not missed us. I tell you we made a race for it, one of us on each side of the wounded man, but we made it.

Another time that day Mungo's horse was shot from under him. Tom Cornelius and I saw him fall and ran back to him. He had stopped to take his saddle—we were just in time, as the Indians were coming pell-mell, shouting, "We've got Mungo." I took Mungo behind me and Tom took his saddle and away we went. This was the way we were at it all the way, some one in close quarters all the time.

Mungo told the Cayuses we would fight when we reached the Touchet and got water. Then began the race for the first stand at the Touchet. The Indians beat us on the lower side, but we headed them off above the ford. Some Indians hid in the brush and shot at our men as they passed on the trail. We weretrying to get our wounded men across, but the Indians were killing horses and men. I was in the company up the creek. When we came down, Col. Gilliam told Lieut. Engart to rout those ambushed Indians. Engart called for volunteers to go in after them. I was one with twenty others. We started for the hiding place, skirting along the brush, expecting any minute to run on them. When we did find them, not more than five or six of us were together in the lead, and the Indians were firing at another squad of men some distance away—we were within thirty feet of them. I fired and hit my Indian just as he turned to run, striking him in the back of the head. He fell and I stepped back behind a bush to reload, when another man ran in and stood in my place; as he did so the Indian rolled over and fired at him, killing him. Just then Nate Olney, an old Indian fighter, ran in with a tomahawk and made a good Indian of him. He scalped him and I carried the grewsome trophy at my saddle horn when I returned home. We killed about sixty Indians there. It was hard to make an estimate of how many, as they carried their dead away unless too hard pressed.

All during this battle the chief sat on his horse on the rocky point just above Bolles Junction [the present junction] and gave command and encouragement in a loud and stentorian voice. He could be heard for miles. Finally a bullet sped his way and he was killed—and he being the medicine man, the battle ceased and a council was called. We were now across the Touchet. We were carrying our wounded men on litters made by stretching blankets on willow poles—taking turns carrying—that was a hard job. As we began to climb the hill beyond the Touchet we heard the Indians let up their death-wail—they were gathered together on those low hills just north the Bolles Junction depot.

We traveled on to Dry Creek that day; there we went into camp and spying some Indian horses on the prairie, myself with some others ran in a bunch, near some brush where some of our men were hidden, and as they passed, shot two. That was the first horse meat I had tried to eat, but it made me sick—though they were young unbroken horses. I was sure they tasted of the saddle blanket—suggestion, I suppose. When we woke next morning there was four or five inches of snow on our blankets—we had no tents.

A runner had been sent on to the Mission and a wagon sent out for our wounded men. My bunkie and I got up early, mounted our horses and rode on to the Mission that morning. The boys soon were preparing provisions for the famishing troops, but after starving so long the smell of food cooking made me sick and I could not eat until the next morning. Some of the boys were so ravenous they had to be restrained or they would have killed themselves eating.

Now we laid around camp, getting into mischief, and I learned to smoke. The only regular rations issued us was tobacco—and the smokers seemed to take such comfort in the pipe, I too indulged.

When we came into the Indian country Gilliam told us we could have any Indian horses we captured. I was pretty handy with a rope and got away with three head from the battle at the Touchet. One, a fine horse rode by a chief, I was particularly proud of. A big burly Dutchman in another company also coveted that horse, so one morning he put his rope on him and led him into camp. I at once claimed the horse and proceeded to make good my claim. He resisted and we got into a "scrap"; he had friends, so had I. All took sides—it was decided we fight for possession; the winner to get him. That suited me all right—soat it we went. Men say it was a hard fight, but I won and took the horse to lead him off, when an under officer, a friend of the Dutchman, stepped up and took hold of the rope, saying, "I'll take this horse." I was only a boy of nineteen years, but I did not intend to give up the horse without a struggle, and was considering the consequences of hitting an officer when Colonel Gilliam walked unobserved into the ring, cut the rope behind the officer's hand, handed the rope to me and walked away without a word. I tell you I was the proudest boy in that camp—and after the colonel was gone I could not resist crowing at the Dutchman in true boy fashion. This is just an example of how justice was meted out in the army of volunteers.

In the spring about two hundred recruits came. We now numbered about five hundred men. Then a party set out for north of Snake River to hunt Indians. I was with the company. We crossed the Snake at the mouth of the Palouse—we made a camp at Little Falls—were at Big Lake on Cow Creek and all over the upper country, but failed to find any number of Indians. We fired a few shots at stragglers now and then, but had no regular engagement. The Cayuse warriors had scattered about among other tribes, many going over the mountains to wait until the soldiers left the country.

A detachment of men was sent to Walker's Mission, called Tshimakain, where Walker and Eells and their families were located as missionaries among the Spokanes. We got the families and brought them back with us. We came back across country, crossing Snake River at the mouth of Alpowa Creek to an Indian encampment known as Red Wolf's Land—then we returned to Waiilatpu. This expedition went out the first of May. Sometime in June we began our return trip to Oregon, having been out about six months.

I remember while camped in the Umatilla country I was breaking an Indian horse to ride—and he would throw himself whenever I mounted. I had become pretty mad at his persistence in lying down, so concluded to tie him down until he would be willing to stand up. I did so and left him close to camp—but in the morning I was minus a horse—the wolves had eaten him up. We had much to learn in those days.

On this trip Colonel Gilliam was killed accidentally. In pulling a gun from a wagon it caught in a rope and was discharged, killing him. He was a good man and a good officer, well liked by all his men, as he was a friend to all.

We arrived at Oregon City a few days before the Fourth of July. The Governor rode out and reviewed the troops, as we were on parade. Every man had his horse decked out in Indian trappings and we were as wild as a band of Indians. Crowds of people had gathered to welcome us home. The Governor made us a short talk and dismissed us. Thus ended the organization of Oregon's First Mounted Volunteers—we all scattered out to our homes.—Thus ends Mr. Walter's article.

Another of the pioneers of '59 was W. S. Gilliam, son of the Colonel Gilliam referred to in Mr. Walter's article. Mr. Gilliam was one of the most honored and useful of Walla Walla's pioneers. A number of years ago he prepared a contribution for the Pioneer Association which we are presenting here. We are making selections on account of the length of the article. The first pertains tothe journey across the plains in 1844, and gives a view of some of the interesting events there:

"The next morning a sight opened up to us that can never be seen again by mortal man. As far as the eye could reach up the valley of the South Platte and as far on the bluffs as we could see was black with buffaloes. The quantity of the buffaloes was one thing that the early travelers could not exaggerate.

"Under the guidance of Mr. Sublette we struck across the country from the last mentioned camp to the North Platte. In the course of the day we descried a large band of buffaloes under full headway, making directly for the train. We hastily gathered our guns and put ourselves in position, and as soon as the head of the herd came in shooting distance we commenced firing on them and succeeded as we thought, luckily, in turning them around the rear of the train. I think I may safely say that while we were in the buffalo country we were hardly ever out of sight of the animals.

"We struck the North Platte the next day and traveled up the stream most of the way to Fort Laramie, where we laid by a day. We met Mr. Joseph Walker here, who was a noted mountaineer and also an old friend of my father's. He happened to be going our way as far as Fort Bridger and made a very acceptable guide for us.

"The day we laid by I was taken with a very violent fever and remember but little that happened till we got to Sweet Water, where I became convalescent. I remember seeing Independence Rock, covered with names innumerable, and the Devil's Gate, where the river had cut its way through a hill, leaving perpendicular banks perhaps a hundred feet high and a gorge not any wider than the stream.

"We followed up Sweet Water several days to a point where we left it to our right and took into the South Pass across the Rocky Mountains. After a moderate day's travel we camped at the Pacific Springs, the first water that we had encountered that flowed westward. I remember that we felt quite jubilant over the affair and thought that this was quite a circumstance in our journey. In passing over the country from here to Fort Bridger we crossed the two Sandies, Green River, and Ham's Fork. We stopped a day at the fort and next day, it being the first day of September, we started a northerly course across the country to Bear River. We followed down this stream to the Soda Springs, which was a great wonder to us. On an area of perhaps one hundred acres hundreds of springs boiled up, many in the bed of the river."

Following this is an estimate of Captain Grant, the Hudson's Bay commandant at Fort Hall. As the character of Captain Grant has been the subject of controversy, the views of Mr. Gilliam have much interest:

"We camped here and next morning when we started we left the river, and after traveling some sixty or seventy miles we reached Fort Hall, then a Hudson's Bay Company trading post, where Mr. Grant was chief factor. Here a circumstance occurred that has caused me through life to regard Grant as a bad hearted man. Peter H. Burnett, a noted man of the previous emigration, had written a letter of instruction and encouragement and sent it to Grant with instructions that he should read it to the emigrants when they reached Fort Hall. When we arrived there the letter was called for and Grant read it to us. It was a very welcome note, giving us useful instructions about the route and strong encouragementabout the country we were going to. But you can hardly conceive of the barrels of cold water he poured onto Mr. Burnett's words of encouragement. The circumstances were such that such a proceeding was of no profit or benefit to him or the company he was serving, for it was next to impossible for us to turn back. We were from the very nature of our situation compelled to go ahead, and he well knew that his discouragement could avail nothing towards stopping us. I have never been able to regard him as a good man."

A retrospect by Mr. Gilliam, and an account of settlement in the Willamette Valley contains matter of interest:

"It may be well enough to take a retrospect of things as they were then and compare them with things as they are now. We traveled through the territory that now constitutes the states of Kansas, Nebraska, Wyoming, Utah, Idaho and well through Oregon, and in all this vast region we did not find one single home, unless you, by a strained construction, call a mission or trading post a home. There were a thousand miles of this journey, which required six months to perform it. We stood guard to protect our lives and property from hostile Indians. This being the year that Polk was elected president, the earliest news that we got of it was in July following, and we considered ourselves rather fortunate in getting it thus early; it having come by ship, when in fact we did not expect to get it until the arrival of the emigrants in the fall. When a presidential election occurs now if we do not get the news the next day we feel that we are unfortunate in being deprived of the news so long.

"I took my first trip back three years ago. I was three days in making it, and on the route found two large cities, Salt Lake and Denver, and seemingly happy homes everywhere, and made the trip in a comfortable manner that was undreamed of in those early days.

"Well, to return. We wintered where the town of Cornelius now stands, about eighty rods south of the depot, with Messrs. Waters and Emerick, who were keeping batch at that time. The winter was very mild, which impressed us very favorably with the climate.

"In February father went up the country to select a land claim. I think his was the first claim taken south of the Rickreall. The town of Dallas stands on part of it. He came back with a glowing account of the country he had seen and particularly of the place that he had selected for a home. So we got ready and as early in March as traveling was good we started for our new home. We arrived there the 16th of March, it being Sunday. The whole country was a natural park, and, combined with the ideal spring day that we reached there, made it seem to me like dreamland.

"We went to work in good earnest building a log cabin, but before we could complete it we were overtaken by the equinoctial storm, which gave us some very serious discomfort. The next thing to do was to put in some garden and sow some wheat. Will say that nature gave us a bountiful yield in both field and garden.

"During this season we suffered some privations in food. For instance, at times we had to substitute boiled wheat for bread. It is hardly necessary to say that we did not do this from choice, but having plenty of wild meat, milk and butter, we could have a meal that would hardly pass muster now, but I can assure you that a person would be a long time starving to death on it. We neverhad any shortage of breadstuffs after the first season, for there was a grist-mill built in the immediate neighborhood the next year, where we could get flour any time."

Mr. Gilliam's brief reference to Dr. Whitman is of special value:

"A large share of the immigrants who wintered at Dr. Whitman's during the season settled in our immediate neighborhood and I learned a great deal about the Doctor's character from them. It seemed as if he had made a deep impression on them, for they talked a great deal about him, and from their talk I came to have a high regard for him. They told me that he would come home from Wallula, a distance of twenty-five miles, before breakfast, or if necessary go up to where they were building the sawmill, a distance of eighteen miles, before breakfast. In fact, his energy seemed to have no bounds and no obstacle with him seemed insurmountable. It was this summer of 1845 that he visited Willamette Valley and while there he called on my father, and as it happened I was away from home and therefore failed to see him, a circumstance that I have always regretted, more especially since he has become such an important figure in history."

The portraiture of early conditions in the Willamette, reference to his father's death, gold discovery, and then settlement in the Walla Walla country follow:

"The immigration of 1847 brought from Washington City father's appointment as postal agent with instructions from the Post Office Department concerning the same. On a recent visit with my sister at Dallas, Ore., who has all the papers, I had the pleasure of inspecting them anew. I found them queer reading from our standpoint.

"In the fall of 1847 father disposed of the place we settled on and moved up the country about twelve miles and bought a place on Pedee. This fall one of my sisters married. In the meantime some Indians had become acquainted with us and were living in the immediate neighborhood. They took some interest in the wedding and were very curious to know what her husband gave for her, it being their custom to sell their daughters into marriage. They were surprised beyond measure when told that she was given to him.

"It was November of this year that the Whitman massacre occurred. Father was at once notified that he was requested to take command and of the volunteers that were to be raised to march against the hostile Indians. He left home abruptly early in December, never to return. His death was the heaviest blow that has ever befallen me.

"The next year was one long to be remembered in Oregon. It was the year of the discovery of gold in California. It was late in August that reports of the discovery began to reach Oregon. They reported the mines to be so rich that at first they were discredited; but they were soon confirmed in such a way as to relieve all doubts. It would be hard to exaggerate the excitement that was raised upon the confirmation of the news. In fact, it would be hard to excite a community in any other way to the pitch ours was on this occasion, more especially when we consider how small it was. Everybody that could get away dropped their business and left. My brother-in-law and I rigged ourselves out with a saddle horse and pack-horse apiece and started. We had to travel through the Rogue River and Klamath countries in considerable bands to protect ourselves against the hostile Indians, but by the time we got to where it was dangerous we had fallen inwith plenty of company, so we had no trouble on that score. We passed through the hostile country without being attacked or having any horses stolen. In fact, to me it was a trip that afforded me some of the keenest kind of pleasure, new scenery every day and some of it, Mt. Shasta, for instance, was of the grandest kind. It was the first time I had left the parental roof.

"When we got well into the Sacramento Valley, just after we had struck camp, an acquaintance rode into camp with his pack-horse and proceeded to camp with us. He had a thrilling story to tell of his previous night's experience. It seemed that the company he traveled with through the hostile country were highly disagreeable to him, so when they reached the Sacramento Valley, where the Indians were friendly, he tore himself away from it and was traveling alone. During the first day of his lone travel he bought a salmon of the Indians. When he camped that night he cooked part of the salmon for supper and laid the balance within a few feet of where he made his bed. After retiring, while looking out into the increasing gloom, he saw an approaching form that looked as large as a covered wagon. His bearship, for such it was, very coolly and unconcernedly appropriated the remainder of the salmon and sat down within a few feet of him and quietly ate it. After eating he still sat there, seeming to ponder on what to do next. In the meantime the campfire got into the dry grass and burnt towards where Mr. Bear was sitting. When it got unpleasantly near him he slowly moved away and disappeared. Some Indians were at the camp in the morning and were shown the track. They assured him the best they could that he was very fortunate in not being served up for a supper for Mr. Bear. When he reached our camp and narrated the circumstance he remarked that he had concluded that he would not camp alone any more.

"I went into the mines and worked with only fair success until late next spring, when I became homesick, and not appreciating the opportunities as I would have in later life, I returned home, where I arrived the 16th of June, 1849.

"After resting a few days I visited a camp meeting that was in progress near Salem. I had visited the meeting at the same grounds the year before. I was very forcibly impressed with the difference in the dress of the people in the two years. The first year, before California had poured her wealth of gold into the country, the people were dressed in very plain pioneer style, the men in buckskin pants with the balance of the suit corresponding, the women in calicoes and muslin. But this year it was very evident that they had freely availed themselves of the privilege that the great quantity of gold that had found its way to Oregon gave them to improve their attire, for in the case of the men broadcloth had taken the place of buckskin, and in the women silks and satins had replaced calico and gingham.

"In 1851 there was a vacancy in the sheriff's office and I was appointed by the county commissioners to fill the vacancy. During my incumbency, in the discharge of my duty as sheriff, it fell to my lot to execute a death warrant by hanging a man by the name of Everman, who had committed a very foul murder. It was not a very pleasant duty to perform and most certainly one that I never wanted to be called on to repeat. This was the first execution for murder in Polk County, and I think the second in the territory, excepting the Indians that were hung at Oregon City for the murder of Doctor Whitman and others.

"There was another circumstance that grew out of the murder case thatgave me the unenviable distinction of being the only man that ever put up a white man at auction and sold him to the highest bidder. The man in question was a brother of the above murderer. He was found guilty of being accessory to the murder after the fact, which would entitle him to a term in the penitentiary. There was no penitentiary in the territory at that time, and the judge in sentencing him to a term made the provision in the order that in default of there being a penitentiary he be sold to the highest bidder for the same term that he was sentenced to the penitentiary. Some of my lawyer friends tell me that the judge assumed a very doubtful right in so sentencing the culprit; but no legal move was made to invalidate the judge's order, so the matter rested.

"The above execution occurred on the 11th of May, 1852. That year my future wife crossed the plains and settled in the neighborhood where I lived. After a year's acquaintance we were married and moved onto a donation claim that I had three miles northwest of Dallas. At this time I was engaged in cattle raising.

"We lived here until 1859, when I became disgusted with the long, wet, dreary winters. That, coupled with the growing shortage of public pasturage, caused us to sell and seek a country with less winter rains and more public range. From what we could hear of the Walla Walla country we concluded that the winter weather and range were about what we wanted, so we at once decided to emigrate thither. In July I gathered up the cattle and started. The journey was somewhat tedious, a part of it being over dusty roads and the weather at times hot. I reached Dry Creek at Mr. Aldrich's place, early in August. I bought a man's claim just above the Aldrich place. I stayed some two weeks getting the cattle settled on the range. I started back for the family the first day of September, traveling with saddle-and pack-horse.

"On my way back I had the good fortune to fall in with an immigrant who had been in Oregon and knew the locality where my land was, to sell him my farm, and was thus relieved from being detained on that account.

"I reached home in twelve days after leaving Dry Creek and found the folks all well. We hurriedly made arrangements for our departure to the place that I had selected for our new home. We bundled our household goods into a wagon, bade good-bye to our friends and started. We drove over the country to Portland, where we put the wagon and team on the boat and got on ourselves, and finally landed at The Dalles. From there we took the wagon to Walla Walla, arriving at our new home the 23rd of October.

"There was nothing there in the shape of a house but a miserable hut that would neither protect us from the rain or cold. Therefore it was very important to build a house at the earliest possible time. I took a man with me into the mountains to assist me in getting out the timbers, and put another one to hauling them as fast as we got them cut; so it was but a few days till we had the material on the ground with which to build a cabin. We at once put it up and finished it so as to make it endurable for the winter.

"This was a tolerably severe winter, a great deal of snow and cold weather; but the stock got through in good shape for the reason that the grass was fine in the late fall, which put them in good shape to withstand bad weather; and the country was all open so that they could range on to the creeks and browse when the grass was covered with snow. As to ourselves, we got along fairly well inthe line of provisions, but I can assure you we did not enjoy any delicacies. We had plenty of bread, meat and potatoes, but as to the bread I remember that at times I had to work for it. When the flour was low I had to take corn to a neighbor's who had a steel hand mill, and grind it into meal. I think any person who has ever had the experience of grinding on a hand mill, in the matter of recollection will be like myself, that is, he will remember it.

"When spring came, the first I did was to gather up the cattle that had got considerably scattered. When that was attended to we went to seeding and planting garden. The season being very favorable everything planted grew luxuriantly. I have never since seen such a crop of potatoes as we raised that year. We estimated the crop at 600 bushels per acre, and I am inclined to believe that it was over rather than under the estimate. I often hear people remark that it rains more now than when the country was first settled. I can confidently say that there has never been a season in which more rain fell in summer season, with possibly the exception of 1862, than fell this season of 1860. I heard remarked that had it not been for the peculiar nature of our soil that readily absorbed it the crops would have been generally drowned out. I look back upon this season as being one of the most enjoyable of my life. The summer was all that we could want it to be. I heartily enjoyed looking over the beautiful country, fresh from the hands of nature and unmarred by the hands of man; everything seemed to smile. The country became endeared to me and I have never seriously thought of making any other place my home.

"To give an idea of how little people then in the country knew of its value, when it was being surveyed it was talked among the people that it was a waste of Government money to survey it, for the reason that there was so little of it fit for settlement; and today you could not get an acre of that land for less than forty dollars. [At present date about a hundred and forty.] It was universally believed that all the country was worth anything for was its grazing qualities, excepting the low bottoms, which were known to be very productive. Everybody who came to the country then came with the intention of raising stock on the fine pasturage that the country afforded. Nobody came with the intention of farming, for the reason that it was thought that a very small part of the country would produce grain.

"In 1861 I was elected a member of the Territorial Legislature, which I have always thought was unfortunate for me, for the reason that the following winter was the hard winter and my presence at home would have been very desirable and beneficial to my interests. As soon as the legislature adjourned, although the severe weather was still in evidence, I started at once for home. We traveled in public conveyance as far as Monticello. We found the Columbia thoroughly frozen up and waited a few days, hoping that there might be a breakup, but as the bad weather continued and showed no signs of a change, Mr. Moore, a member of the Legislature, and I concluded to start on foot for The Dalles. It was one of the hardest trips I ever had. We traveled mostly on the ice, but at times would take to the land, where trails were beaten between neighbors in the snow who lived along the shore. We were fortunate enough to find lodging every night and to procure meals when we wanted them.

"After about a week of weary traveling we reached The Dalles, where we got saddle horses. A Wells, Fargo & Co. messenger fell in with us here, whichswelled our company to three. We had traveled a couple of days when my two comrades became badly afflicted with snow blindness. The trail had been broken through the snow, but had later filled up with fresh snow. It took the practiced eye to follow it. My comrades being snowblinded it devolved on me to lead and break the way. The weather at times was intensely cold, but we found lodging every night except one; luckily for us, it happened to be one of the mildest nights we had, and with some blankets we passed the night fairly comfortably.

"We reached Walla Walla about the last of February. The war was raging then to such an extent and travel impeded that we brought news that was six weeks old.

"I found my folks all well and hearty, but the destruction of our stock was something frightful. When I looked them up later I found about ten per cent of them alive; but being in the prime of life and enjoying perfect health I was not discouraged.

"This season the Orofino and Florence mines poured wealth into the country to such an extent that money was very plentiful and produce very high. I succeeded in putting in a large lot of potatoes and vegetables and some grain. The season being highly favorable everything grew splendidly and produced abundantly and brought a very high price, potatoes selling at four and one-half cents per pound and other things in proportion; so at the end of the year I had to a large extent retrieved the losses that I had sustained by the severity of the winter.

"Ever since I had heard so much about Doctor Whitman from the immigrants who wintered with him in 1844, and especially after his tragic death, I had become interested in him and in the site of his mission, but had never visited it. In June this year I took a day for it and got on my horse and rode to the old site. Father Eells was occupying it then. I told him the object of my visit. He was very kind indeed and took a great deal of pains in showing me about the place and explaining things the best he could. He took me to the ruins of the old adobe building and explained the plan of it and showed me the spot where Doctor Whitman, according to reports, must have fallen. He then took me to where the victims of the massacre were buried, and while standing there one of us kicked the loose dirt and turned up the lower jaw bone of one of the victims. One of the teeth in the bone was filled with gold. We buried it as well as we could without tools and inferred from the circumstance that they had been buried in shallow graves or been dug up by badgers. I went home feeling that I had been well rewarded for my ride.

"The next year, 1863, I was elected sheriff. I have nothing to report that was unusual during my term, the usual routine of business incident to the office and no executions for murder or anything else worth speaking about. At the same time I was appointed deputy collector of internal revenue under Philip D. Moore. The duties of this position were simply collecting revenue that fell to the Government. The most unpleasant part of my duties was my responsibility for the considerable sums of money that I had in my possession.

"After the expiration of my term I returned to the farm and entered into the usual humdrum routine pertaining to farm life.

"In 1869, for the first time since leaving, I took a trip to Oregon. The election occurred the day before I started. The telegraph line had reached Umatilla.When the boat landed there the messenger went immediately to the telegraph office with the election news. This was my first contact with the telegraph, and it was hard for me to realize that while the operator was sending the dispatch at that very moment it was being received in Portland.

"At The Dalles we met the first tourist who had come on the newly completed transcontinental railroad to San Francisco and from thence by steamer to Portland and from Portland by river steamers to The Dalles.

"I went to Dallas, where most of my people lived. I had a very enjoyable visit, having been away ten years. In due time I returned home and found the folks all well.

"My reminiscences having come down to and partly including the year 1869, the year that the transcontinental railroad was completed, I think about this time they should lose their character as pioneer reminiscences and thus far their interest to the public; for I think the future historian will draw the line between those who came in an ox-team and those who came on the railroads. So I feel that my task is done, and when a person's work is finished it is a good time to quit."

From the reminiscences of Mr. Gilliam we turn to those of one of the honored builders, still living in Walla Walla, F. W. Paine. As one of the earliest business men of the region, Mr. Paine is peculiarly qualified to give a picture of the business men and conditions in Walla Walla in the early '60s. We feel ourselves fortunate to be able to present this article from his pen:

BUSINESS MEN OF THE '60s

"In approaching the subject I realize my utter inability to fitly handle even so small a quota of so large a class, which comprises men of the most eminent minds from among whom are found the financial geniuses to solve the most intricate problems of the world's commerce, from among whose ranks have been chosen by their fellow countrymen men to occupy and administer the highest offices of the nation, and the contingent which I am about to consider, the business men of Walla Walla, has afforded men of more than local fame, not only in their own calling, but men as well who have been chosen from their own sphere to fill places of honor from city councilman to United States senator; the achievements of this class impel the conclusion that the calling of general merchandising affords a training which adapts the mind to the handling of large affairs. To come to my subject, as I now recall the appearance of Main Street, the home of the business man in the spring of 1862, as I first beheld it, it might be described as a development of the old Indian trail along the natural elevation of the south bank of Mill Creek, forming a dry ridge much used by the Indians in horse racing before the whites appropriated it for the more advanced purposes of a business street, which, by the way, established its own azimuth which still maintains and which incidentally misses all the cardinal points of compass. Architecturally viewed it would seem that the earliest occupants of this street differed in their opinions as to the established width, for at that time there was gross irregularity in the building line, as well as ups and downs in the sidewalks, each owner apparently deeming it his own affair, that of fixing the line. When building his house, sidewalk, and frequently a board awning on scantling supports, toafford a show place for his merchandise, while in the matter of the building line 'the crooked have been made straight, the rough places have not all been made plain,' a few still remain perhaps to attest the tenacity of error. With this much for outside appearances let us now step inside where we are met by the subject of this sketch, a business man of Walla Walla, a man approaching middle life, of good presence, well informed on the country in general, its business prospects and opportunities, his stock of merchandise, and his patrons, who, if stockmen, ranged from the Cascades to the Rocky Mountains; if a packer his range was nearly as wide, or if a miner his field covered much the same vast territory, the magnitude of which seemed to be measurably reflected in the men who partook of its largess, for the merchants of early Walla Walla were of the stalwart type who rose to the occasion and occupied the field in a creditable manner, for few of the class known in California as 'Cheap Johns,' ever tarried long in Walla Walla. They came but soon recognized their betters and left for more congenial surroundings. As time sped on and the country settled up business grew to be more complex in its administering. Gold dust and gold and silver bars as important factors in the circulating medium, gave place to gold and silver coin, and greenbacks brought in by the immigrants of the middle '60s were tolerated at fifty to seventy-five cents on the dollar, but no lesser coin than a twenty-five cent piece was accepted in exchange for merchandise and even the saloons treated anything smaller with disdain; but the country was filling up with settlers, and as they became fixed and permanent citizens, credits were extended, some of the leading houses even in the early years, carrying heavy accounts with farmers and stockmen. This necessitated the merchants' assistance in marketing their products, thus these business houses became dealers in wool, wheat, barley, etc., which continued for many years and proved a substantial source of revenue which went far toward helping out the year's profits and also encouraged investments in other lines, such as transportation facilities, flouring mills and various manufactures, in which the business man frequently took the lead, as he did in most of the important doings of the day; for instance, in the matter of public spirit a record may be found in his generous subscriptions to induce the construction of railroads, for the building of hospitals, churches and educational institutions, and for their maintenance, and again in the voting of taxes for public schools and public buildings, both of the city and county. This matter of voting taxes brings to mind that even this early, politics was an institution to be reckoned with, but the business man seldom sought its honors. His political creed was, business before pleasure or politics. When election day came around he voted his party ticket and enjoyed the diversion, so it did not interfere with business. He seldom accepted office, and then only as a matter of duty, but when such responsibilities were undertaken they were discharged with fidelity to the trust imposed.

"Of his religion he took a less serious view, but his hand was ever open to the deserving in a good cause, it mattered not from whence the call. To illustrate, in the early days there came to this city a man most devout, a reserved and gentle mannered man, who, finding no church of his denomination, proceeded to build one near to the business district. He contributed largely of his own rather limited means and completed the building. Among the many brilliant sermons delivered from its pulpit were some very caustic and pointed, directlyaimed at the shortcomings of the business world. He became noted for his good work, both in and out of the pulpit, but one day his church was accidentally burned, a total loss and no insurance. Whereupon a prominent business man (who for himself had little use for churches) seemingly prompted by his sense of justice, and as he said, 'a desire to see a good man get a square deal,' took prompt action and with a subscription list headed by a liberal sum, set against his own name, he proceeded to interview the business places, omitting none. Everything that was operated for money was in business to him, at least for that day, and was assessed and collection made at the same time. When he had made the round of Main Street, even before the ashes were cold, he had enough to build a new church. No one asked was the money tainted, but the church was built and much good resulted therefrom. One other instance I recall, when a preacher who had gathered many souls into his fold, somewhat on his merits as a good 'mixer' (this word belongs to politics, but if the good man could say even now he would approve its use here). After he had scheduled members enough to justify building a church he went among the brethren for subscriptions. Meeting two of his business acquaintances he made known his plans to which they readily subscribed a generous sum, only conditioned upon his steeple rising higher than that of the church across the street. To this he readily assented, and the spire stands today to attest his good works.

"Some historian has said, 'History is not written with a microscope,' nor should it be written with one's eye blinded to events that it were better had never occurred, but so long as man continues to indulge erroneous thoughts, those thoughts will be expressed in actions which, with their effects, will be recorded. So, notwithstanding the enviable record of the average business man of his day, there was the inevitable exception when someone went wrong, or, so to say, was swept off his feet by the lure of the open games of chance, presided over by the man with the starched shirt and polished nails. Such heaps of gold and silver, bags of dust even all so temptingly lay, just waiting the turn of a card, the jingling of coins, the hustle and murmur of the crowds, the glint and dazzle of the lights, the music and the song, the tinkle of the glasses, the odor of cocktails and champagne, a perfect riot of sensations, and over all that transport of abandon so free of all restraint, 'society' looked on complacently, law lacked an introduction, but 'twas all so sociable he took a hand or perchance bought a few chips and the better to celebrate his first winning, ordered a cocktail and cigar, and then was soon on the road that men of all callings frequented in the very early days. Little wonder that an occasional business man was found among the discard.

"Elsewhere I note that occasion was had to mention so many of the names of firms and men in business in the early days, that I will not attempt to repeat them, suffice to say that rare and potent conditions must have worked together to produce a force of men so fitting to the time and place as were these, to prosecute their chosen calling as a means to success; some, to be sure, looking only to a temporary stay which as time wore on, grew to be permanent, others, casting their lot with the county from the beginning, remained to amass fortunes of no mean proportions. Several having reached business limitations here, naturally gravitated to larger cities, to enjoy a wider field of operations, where they continued to court the Goddess of Fortune successfully. Of those whoremained many have attained to places of honor, and of few indeed could it be said that the world was no better for their having lived in it, and taken as a whole, the history of the county would be sadly abbreviated were it to be deprived of a record of their doings."

One of the best known of the pioneer families of Walla Walla is that of the Ferrels. As a charming narrative of the typical events of a journey across the plains and settlement in Walla Walla in the early days, we incorporate here a paper by Mrs. Brewster Ferrel.

A WOMAN'S EXPERIENCE CROSSING THE PLAINS

May 1, 1864.

We started from Corydon, Wayne County, Iowa, to travel the wild and desolate plains and seek a home in Walla Walla, Wash. This is a true story, but before you get through reading it you will not wonder at the people out west calling us green immigrants.

My husband and I and our little boy, who was two years old, and my husband's brother, were all that came in our wagon. We had a good little mule team. I have had a kind regard for mules over since I took that trip. Did not know a mule could learn so much.

The first day was a sad one going past our relatives and old neighbors' homes and stopping to say good-bye. Our people gave us little presents, tokens of love, and lots of good advice, such as, "be careful and don't let the Indians get you," or, "be a good girl and come back some day." Well, we did come back twenty-four years after, but not with a mule team.

The first night we stayed at a house. Next morning the good woman said, "I will give you some pickled meat." So she went out in the meat house to get it, and there was a skunk drowned in the brine. We thanked her and got our meat at another place.

The next night we camped out, the first I ever slept out of a house, and when bedtime came our little boy cried, oh, so hard to go home, but we got him quiet and slept well; that was one thing we could do on that trip.

Woman-like, I was very much afraid of the bad roads. We had all of our belongings piled in that wagon, and among other things were our firearms. We came to a very bad place in the road. I took our little boy out of the wagon and we were walking behind when a shotgun that was lying in the wagon went off and the shot came very near us. Then I concluded in the wagon was the safest place and soon got so I was not afraid to ride over any kind of road.

We traveled alone till we got to the Missouri River. Then we came to a string of wagons about a mile and a half long. They were waiting to be ferried over the river. We came there in the forenoon, and took our place in line and moved up as the wagons went over. We stayed there all that day and camped there that night. Next morning we got over.

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