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CHAPTER V.
A CHEHALIS LETTER, PENNED IN ’52
Mound Prairie, Chehalis River, near
Mr. Ford’s Tavern, Lewis County,
Oregon Territory. 14 Nov. 1852.
My dear Elizabeth:
I believe this is the first letter I have addressed to you since we removed from Wisconsin, and I feel truly thankful to say that through the infinite mercy of God both my family and self have been in the enjoyment of excellent, uninterrupted health.
The last letter we received from Wisconsin was from my brother Thomas, complaining of our long silence. We found, too, that Mr. James’ long letter, containing an account of our route – arrival in Oregon – our having made a claim on the Clackamas, with description of it – and all our progress up to February last, had been received. So here begins the next chapter. About the middle of March we removed into our new log house; here we found everything necessary to make a homestead comfortable and even delightful – a beautiful building spot on a pleasant knoll of considerable extent – a clear brook running along within a few yards of our door; and surrounded by the grandest mountain scenery – and more than that, decidedly healthy. Within walking distance of Oregon City and Milwaukee, and eight miles from Portland. With all these advantages the boys could not reconcile themselves to it on account of the great lack of grass which prevails for twenty miles ’round.
Brush of all description, Hazel, Raspberry, Salal, Rose, Willow and Fern grow to a most gigantic size. And in February what appeared to us and others – a kind of grass – sprang up quickly over the ground and mountain side; nor was it ’till May, when it blossomed out, that we discovered what we hoped would be nourishment for our cattle, was nothing more than the grass Iris, and fully accounted for the straying of our cattle and the constant hunt that was kept up by our neighbors and selves after cattle and horses.
In fact we soon found that this was no place for cattle until it had been subdued and got into cultivation. To make the matter worse we were every now and then in the receipt of messages and accounts from our friends and acquaintances who were located, some in Umpqua, some in the Willamette Valley, some at Puget Sound. Those from Umpqua sent us word that there was grass enough all winter, on one claim for a thousand head of cattle. Mr. Lucas in the Callipooiah Mountains at the head of the Willamette, sent us pressing invitations to come up and settle by him, where he had grass as high as his knees in February. In the Willamette the first rate places were all taken up. Samuel and Billy joined in begging their father to make a tour north or south to see some of these desirable places. Finally he was induced, though rather reluctantly (so well he liked our pleasant home and so confident was he of raising grass and grain) to visit one or the other after harvest. We finished our harvest in July and in August Mr. J., accompanied by Billy, set off on a journey of exploration to the north. The land route lay along the north bank of the Columbia for sixty miles to the mouth of the Cowlitz, then thirty miles up that river over Indian trails, all but impassable. This brought them into the beautiful prairies of Puget Sound, sixty or seventy miles through which brought them to that branch of the Pacific. They returned after an absence of between three and four weeks. So well were Mr. James and Billy pleased with the country that they made no delay on their return in selling out their improvements which they had an opportunity of doing immediately. We had milked but two cows during the summer, but even with the poor feed we had, I had kept the family in butter and sold $20 worth, but then I had fifty cents and five shillings per pound. As to my poultry, I obtained with some difficulty the favor of a pullet and a rooster for $2.00. In March I added another hen to my stock, and so rapidly did they increase, that in September I had, small and big, eighty. After keeping six pullets and a rooster for myself, I made $25.00 off the rest, so you may judge by a little what much will do in Oregon.
Well, it is time for me to take you on board the Batteaux, as I wish you all had been on the 16th of September, when we set sail down the Willamette from Milwaukee. After two days we entered the Columbia, one of the noblest of rivers. After three days, with a head wind all the time, we entered the mouth of the Cowlitz, a beautiful stream, but so swift that none but Indians can navigate it. We had to hire five Indians for $50.00 to take us up. Four days brought us to what is called the upper landing of the Cowlitz. Here ended our river travel – by far the most pleasant journey I ever made. There we met Samuel and Billy who with Tom had taken the cattle by the trail. We halted at a Mr. Jackson’s, where we stopped for a fortnight, while Mr. J. and the boys journeyed away in search of adventures and a claim.
On the banks of the Chehalis, 30 miles north of where we stopped and 30 miles south of the Sound, they found a claim satisfactory in every respect to all parties, and what was not a little, we found a cabin a great deal better than the one we found last winter.
The Indians told us that tennes (white) Jack, who momicked (worked) it had clatawawed (traveled or went) to California in quest of chicamun (metal) and had never chacooed (come back), so we entered on tennes Jack’s labours. As a farm and location, this certainly exceeds our most sanguine expectations. I often thought last year that we had bettered our conditions from what they were in Wisconsin, and now I think we have improved ours ten times beyond what we then were.
Our claim is along the banks of the Chehalis, a navigable river which empties into the Pacific at Grays Harbor, about 70 miles below us. A settlement is just commenced at the mouth of the river and a sawmill is erected 10 miles below us, or rather is building. These are all the settlements on the river below us, and our nearest neighbor above us is 6 miles up. A prairie of 10 miles long and varying in width from 2 to 4 miles stretched away to the north of us, watered with a beautiful stream of water and covered with grass at this time as green as in May.
A stream of water flows within a few yards of our house, so full of salmon that Tom and Johnny could with ease catch a barrel in an hour; they are from 20 to 30 lbs. in a fish. Besides which we have a small fish here very much resembling a pilchard.
We are blessed with the most beautiful springs of water, one of which will be enclosed in our door yard. As far as I can learn there are in the thickest settled parts of this portion of Oregon, about one family in a township – many towns are not so thickly settled. We are the only inhabitants of this great prairie except a few Indians who have a fishing station about a mile from us. These are on very friendly terms with us, supplying us with venison, wild fowl and mats at a very reasonable price, as we are the only customers and we in return letting them have what sappalille (flour) and molasses we can at a reasonable price, which they are always willing to pay. Soap is another article I am glad to see in request among them. And it affords them no little amusement to look at the plates of the Encyclopedia. But I fear it will be long before they will be brought to momick the illahe (earth). They are the finest and stoutest set of Indians we have seen.
We converse with them by means of a jargon composed of English, French and Chinook, and which the Indians speak fluently, and we are getting to waw-waw (speak) pretty well. My children, I am thankful to say, look better than I ever saw them in America; they have not had the least symptoms of any of the diseases that they were so much afflicted with in Wisconsin. And now, my dear Elizabeth, if wishing would bring you here, you should soon be here in what appears to me to be one of the most delightful portions of the globe. But then, ever since I have been in America I have regarded a mild climate as a “pearl of great price” in temporal things and felt willing to pay for it accordingly and I have not had the least reason to think I have valued it too high. Many and many a year has passed since I have enjoyed life as I have since I have been in Oregon.
I should have told you that the Chehalis is one of the most beautiful rivers in Oregon. Our claim stretches a mile along the north bank of it. It flows through quite an elevated part of the country. Our house, though within a few rods of the river, has one of the finest views in Oregon, the prairie stretching away to the north like a fine lawn, skirted on each side by oak and maple, at this time in all the brilliant hues of Autumn; behind, on gently rising hills, forests of fir and cedar of most gigantic height and size; farther still to the northeast rises the ever snow-clad mountains of Rainier and St. Helens, on the opposite side to the southwest of the coast range, so near that we can see the trees on them. So magnificent are those immense snow mountains that none but those who have seen them can form any idea of it.
This prairie takes its name from a remarkable mound about a mile from our house; it stands in about 25 acres and is 100 feet high, with a pure spring half way up. The rest of the prairie is almost level without a spring except in the margin. The soil of the mound, as well as some of the margin, has just enough clay to make it a rich and excellent soil; the rest of the prairie is deficient in clay; it has a rich black mould overlaying two feet deep, resting on substratum of sand and gravel, which in some places is so mixed with the soil as to give it the name of a gravelly prairie. You might have the choice of fifty such prairies as this and some better on this river. Farmers were never better paid in the world, even my little dairy of two cows has for the month past turned me in, at least I have sold butter to the amount of two and a half bushels of wheat a day at Wisconsin prices of 30 cents, and have by me 26 pounds for which I shall have at least 60 cents or $1.00 per pound. I now milk three cows; we have four; and Mr. James means to add two more and a few sheep. Mr. J. sold the worst yoke of cattle he had for $160.00. Cows are worth from $50.00 to $100.00; sheep are from $5.00 to $9.00; chickens, 60 cents to $1.00 each; eggs, 50 cents per dozen; dry goods and groceries just the same as in the states; wheat $3.00 per bushel. We left our wheat on the Clackamas to be threshed. They, Samuel and Billy, are now preparing to put in ten acres of fall wheat, potatoes are $2.00 per bushel. Indians easy to hire, both men and women, at reasonable wages. Extensive coal mines of excellent quality have been discovered within 15 miles of this place. But all these things are secondary in my estimation compared with the climate, which is allowed by all English to be superior to their native clime.
It makes me very sad to think how we are separated as a family, never to meet again (at least in all probability) under one roof. O, that we may all meet at least at the right hand of God, let this be our sole concern and our path will be made plain in temporals.
You have the advantage of us in schools, churches and society, but I feel quite patient to wait the arrival of those blessings in addition to those we enjoy. This letter will be accompanied by a paper to Mr. McNaves, “The Columbian,” published at Olympia, Puget Sound. Mr. James has just written an article for it, entitled the “Rainy Season.” I wonder how Amy and Edward are getting on; how I wish they were here. Do you think they will ever come over? Should any of you (of course I include any old friends and acquaintances at Caledonia) determine on removing to this part, the instructions in my husband’s letter are the best we can give.
There has been great suffering on the road this year. We have seen a great many families who came through in a very fair manner, some of them without even the loss of a single head of cattle; these were among the first trains; among the latter the loss of cattle and lives was awful. Some horrid murders were committed on the road, for which the murderers were tried and shot or hung on the spot. The papers say there will be fifteen thousand added to the population of Oregon by this year’s emigration. It is in contemplation to open a road through from Grand Ronde on to Puget Sound, which will shorten the distance at least 300 miles and out of the very worst of the road. Samuel and Billy are determined to come to meet you on the new route with Jack and Dandy, and more if wanted. Now we are settled in earnest you shall hear from us oftener and hope we shall the same from you. Give my kindest and best love to Mother. One old lady, about her age, crossed the plains when we did; she was alive and well when we left the other side of the Columbia.
I must introduce to you an old acquaintance – the Rooks – caw! caw! caw! all around us. We have a rookery on our farm. It is now the 28th of Nov., a fortnight since I wrote the above, in hopes that it would be on its passage to Wisconsin ere this, but was disappointed of sending to the postoffice. Weather warm and sunshiny as May, two or three white frosts that vanished with the rising of the sun are all we have had, not the slightest prospect of sleighing nearer than the slopes of Mt. Rainier.
I have just asked all hands for the dark side of Oregon, not one could mention anything worth calling such. Mr. J. says the shades are so light as to be invisible. The grey squirrel on the south of the Columbia was the most formidable enemy to the farmer; more of that when I write next.
My kindest love to all the dear children; how I long to see them all again, particularly Anna; O, that she may be a very good girl. Richard and Allan often talk of writing to Avis and Lydia. How are Mr. and Mrs. Welch and family? How gladly would I welcome them to my humble cabin. I cannot help thinking, too, that Mrs. W. and I could enjoy ourselves here on the green sward and in looking at the beautiful evergreen shrubs and plants on the banks of the Chehalis, though we might be overtaken by a mild sprinkling. A canoe on the waters of that beautiful stream would help to compensate for the loss of a sleigh on the snows of Wisconsin, particularly when it can be enjoyed at the same season of the year. But I suppose I must look upon all this as a Utopian dream, as I expect few if any of you would barter your comfortable house for a log cabin; well, it is my home, and I hope I have not given you an exaggerated description of it. I wished my husband to write a more particular description of the soil and its productions than I could give, but he was in no writing mood. He says the prairies as far as he has seen are not equal to Iowa or Illinois, but for climate and health he thinks Oregon equals if not surpasses most parts of the world.
Well, I must bid you good-bye, with kind regards to Mr. and Mrs. Drummond, with all my other friends in Yorkville, Mr. Moyle and Susan, with all my friends and acquaintances in Caledonia. I will write again, all’s well, about Christmas, and hope you will attend to the same rate and write once in a month. Farewell my dear sister. Yours in true affection,
A. M. James.
P. S. – If Jane and Dick are married, I will risk saying that the best thing they can do is to come here. All the children send their love to you all. I should be thankful for a few flower seeds.
CHAPTER VI
SOME PIONEERS OF PORT TOWNSEND
In Port Townsend and Seattle papers of 1902 appeared the following items of history pertaining to settlers of Port Townsend:
“Port Townsend, Feb. 15, 1902. – On Friday, February 21, there is to be held in Port Townsend a reunion of old settlers to celebrate the fiftieth anniversary of the landing at this place of some of the first white families to settle on Puget Sound north of the little town of Steilacoom.
“Much interest is being manifested in the coming celebration among the old-timers on Puget Sound, many of whom have already responded to invitations that have been sent them. Most of these letters contain interesting anecdotes or references touching the past. One of them is from Judge E. D. Warbass, of San Juan county, who writes from ‘Idlewild,’ his country home, near Friday Harbor, under date of February 1. In his letter to J. A. Kuhn, whom he addresses as ‘My Dear Ankutty Tillikum,’ he says:
“‘This is my birthday, born in A. D. 1825. Please figure up the time for yourself. I have just finished my breakfast and chores, and will get this letter off on the 9 o’clock mail. I am sincerely obliged for the honor of being invited to come to the Port Townsend celebration and to prepare and read some reminiscences of my experiences during all these years. I hope to be able to do so, and will, if I can, but you know I am no longer the same rollicking Ed, but quite an old man. However, I am willing to contribute my mite towards making your celebration a success, and weather and health permitting, will be there. Delate mika siam.’
“A. A. Plummer, Sr., and Henry Bacheller came to Port Townsend by sailing vessel from San Francisco, in the fall of 1851, and remained here during the winter. A few days after they arrived here, L. B. Hastings and F. W. Pettygrove came in overland from Portland, carrying their blankets on their backs. They soon decided to return to Portland and bring their families over. Mr. Hastings arranged with Plummer and Bacheller to build a cabin for him by the time he returned.
“He and Pettygrove went back to Portland, and soon afterward Mr. Hastings bought the schooner Mary Taylor. He made up a party of congenial people, and on February 9, 1852, the Mary Taylor sailed from the Columbia river with the following named persons, and their families, on board: L. B. Hastings, F. W. Pettygrove, Benjamin Ross, David Shelton, Thomas Tallentyre and Smith Hayes. The last named had no family.
“On February 19 the schooner passed in by Cape Flattery, and on the afternoon of the 20th came upon the Hudson Bay settlement on Vancouver Island, at Victoria. Present survivors of the trip, who were then children, recall how their fathers lifted them up to their shoulders and pointed out the little settlement, telling them at the same time that that country belonged to England, and of their own purpose of crossing over to the American side and there establishing a home for themselves. That night the schooner dropped anchor in Port Townsend bay.
“Early next morning – February 21 – the schooner was boarded by Quincy A. Brooks, deputy collector and inspector of customs. Mr. Brooks had arrived here only a few hours ahead of the Mary Taylor, coming from Olympia and bringing with him the following customs inspectors: A. M. Poe, H. C. Wilson and A. B. Moses. These men had been sent here by the collector of customs to investigate stories of smuggling being carried on between the Hudson Bay Company and Indians on the Sound. The customs officials were camped on the beach. With them were B. J. Madison and William Wilton, the former of whom later settled here. A. A. Plummer and Henry Bacheller were also camped on the beach here at the same time, having been here since their arrival from San Francisco in the preceding fall.
“Early in the forenoon of February 21 all on board the schooner Mary Taylor were landed on the beach and immediately began the work of carving out homes for themselves in what was then a wilderness thickly inhabited by Indians. Mr. Hastings found his cabin ready for occupancy, all but the roof, which had not been put on. A temporary roof was constructed and the family moved in. That night twelve inches of snow fell, it being the first snow that had fallen here during the entire winter. Mr. Hastings’ schooner afterward made several trips between the Columbia river and the Sound, bringing additional families here.
“The present survivors of the Mary Taylor’s passengers are the following: L. W. D. Shelton and his sister, Mary, Oregon C. Hastings, Frank W. Hastings, Maria Hastings Littlefield, Benj. S. Pettygrove and Sophia Pettygrove McIntyre. All but Mr. Shelton and his sister and Oregon C. Hastings are residents of Port Townsend.
“Oregon C. Hastings was born in Illinois in 1845, and crossed the plains in 1849 with his parents. He is living in Victoria.
“Benjamin S. Pettygrove is a native of Portland, Oregon, where he was born on September 30, 1846. He was the first white male child born in Portland.
“Frank W. Hastings was born in Portland on November 16, 1848.
“Sophia Pettygrove was born in Portland on November 17, 1848. She was married on her 17th birthday to Captain James McIntyre, who lost his life a few weeks ago in the wreck of the steamship Bristol in Alaskan waters.
“Judge J. A. Kuhn is the moving spirit in the matter of these pioneers’ reunions and in the organization of Native Sons and Native Daughters lodges. He made a promise to G. Morris Haller of Seattle, as far back as 1877, he says, that he would take up the organizations referred to, in the interest of history and research. The matter remained dormant, however, till the year 1893, when, on March 2, of that year, he instituted in Port Townsend, Jefferson Camp No. 1, Native Sons of Washington, with 12 members present. The camp now has 118 members. On July 3, 1895, he instituted in Port Townsend, Lucinda Hastings Parlor No. 1, Native Daughters of Washington. There are now in the state nine camps of Native Sons and four parlors of Native Daughters.
“A. A. Plummer, Sr., now deceased, was one of the fathers of Port Townsend and was considered quite a remarkable man. He was born in the state of Maine, March 3, 1822, and was a veteran of the Mexican war. He fought under Col. Stevens in that conflict and at its close went to California, going from there to Portland by sailing vessel in 1850.
“Major Quincy A. Brooks was the second deputy collector of customs ever sworn into the service in the Puget Sound district. In January, 1852, he succeeded Elwood Evans as deputy collector for the district. The collector of customs was then Simpson P. Moses, of Cincinnati, Ohio, and the custom house was located at Olympia.”
At the reunion on the 21st of February, 1902, many things were brought to light.
“Among the many stories of early days and reminiscences recalled at the pioneers’ gathering one of the most interesting was Mr. Shelton’s story of the trip of the Mary Taylor from Portland to Port Townsend. Mr. Shelton had committed his reminiscences to manuscript as follows:
“‘Fifty years ago, some time about the first of February, the little 75-ton schooner Mary Taylor left Portland, Ore., for Puget Sound, having on board the families of L. B. Hastings, F. W. Pettygrove, David Shelton, Thomas Tallentyre, Benjamin Ross and Smith Hayes. Mr. Hayes had no family here, but I think he had a family in the East. Mr. Ross had one son, about 20 years old.
“‘Our little craft was navigated by Captain Hutchinson and a crew of four or five men. The families were all old acquaintances. Those of Hastings, Ross and Shelton crossed the plains together in 1847, and concluded to cast their fortunes together again in their last great move, which was to this country.
“‘We lay at Astoria several days, waiting for a favorable opportunity to cross the bar. We made three trials before we ventured out to sea and were three or four days getting up to Cape Flattery, where we lay quite a while in a calm. We found here that we were in soundings, and some of the party commenced fishing, but all they could catch were dog fish, which we tried to eat, but we found that they were not the kind of fish that we cared about.
“‘Our first sight of Indians in this part of the country was off Neah Bay. We were drifting near Waadah Island, when canoes came swarming out of their village in the bay. We had heard ugly stories about this tribe, and prepared for them by stacking our arms around the masts, to be handy in case of need. They were clamorous to come on board, but we thought that they were as well off in their canoes as they would be anywhere else. Some of our party sauntered along the deck with guns in their hands, in view of the Indians.
“‘The Indians then wanted to trade fish for tobacco and trinkets. A few pieces of tobacco were thrown into their canoes and then they commenced throwing fish aboard, and such fish for a landsman to look at! There were bull-heads, rock-cod, kelp-fish, mackerel, fish as flat as your hand, and skates, and other monstrosities, the likes of which the most of our party had never seen before, and when our old cook dished them up for us at dinner we found that they were fine and delicious. There is where we made the acquaintance of sea-bass and rock-cod, and we have cultivated their acquaintance ever since. There were also mussels and clams among the lot, which we found to be very good. We were surrounded by another lot of Indians near Clallam Bay, with about the same performances and with the same results as at Neah Bay.’
“Another incident that I recall happened near Dungeness spit. A couple of canoes filled with Indians came alongside and as there was only a few of them they were allowed to come on board. The tyee of the crowd introduced himself as Lord Jim. He wore a plug hat, a swallowtailed coat, a shirt and an air of immense importance. I suppose he had secured his outfit as a ‘cultus potlatch’ from persons he had met. He had evidently met several white people in his time, as he had a number of testimonials as to his character as a good Indian. I remember of hearing one of his testimonials read and it impressed me as having come from one who had studied the Indian character to some effect. It read something like this:
“‘To whom it may concern: This will introduce Lord Jim, a noted Indian of this part of the country. Look out for him or he will steal the buttons off your coat.’ A further acquaintance with Lord Jim seemed to inspire the belief that the confidence of the writer was not misplaced.
“Shortly after we left Lord Jim we sailed along Protection Island, one of the beauty spots of the Strait of Juan de Fuca. Somewhere along here another thing happened – trivial in its nature – the memory of which has stayed with me all these years. Mr. Pettygrove was walking the deck in a meditative manner, when he happened to feel that he needed a cigar. He called to his son, Ben, about six years old, and told him to bring him some cigars. Ben wanted to know how many he should get. His father told him to get as many as he had fingers on both hands. Ben, proud of his commission, darted away and soon returned with eight cigars. His father looked at them a moment and said: ‘How is this; you have only brought me eight cigars?’ ‘Well,’ said Ben, ‘that is all the fingers I have.’ ‘No,’ said his father, ‘you have ten on both your hands.’ ‘Why, no I haven’t,’ said Ben, ‘two of them are thumbs,’ and I guess Ben was right.
“The next morning, after passing Dungeness Spit, we found our vessel anchored abreast of what is now the business part of Port Townsend, which was then a large Indian village. That was February 21, 1852, fifty years ago today. How it stirs the blood and quickens the memory to look back over those eventful years – eventful years for our state, our Pacific Coast and our entire country – and these years have been equally eventful for the little band that landed here that day so full of hope and energy.
“Our fathers and mothers are all gone to their well-earned rest and reward. Of the thirteen children that were with them at that time nine are still living, and I am proud of the fact that they are all respectable citizens of the community in which they live. They have seen all the history of this part of the country that amounts to much and in their humble way have helped to make it. They have helped conquer the wilderness and the savages and have done their share in laying the foundation of what will be one of the greatest states of our Union. Their fathers were men of honesty and more than ordinary force of character, as their deeds and labors in behalf of their country and families show, and the mothers of blessed memory – their children never realized the power for good they were in this world until they were grown and had families of their own, but they know it now. They know now how they encouraged their husbands when dark days came; how they cheerfully shared the trials and hardships incident to those early pioneer days, and when brighter fortunes came they exercised the same helpful guiding influence in their well ordered, comfortable homes that they did in their first log cabins in the wilderness.”
