Thurston County, Washington - The whole text, 1914 (part 3 of 9)

"Well, when Uncle Lapsley's train came along several days after we were on our way, they espied a newly made grave beside the road and on going to it read mother's name. Mrs. Yantis, who was very delicate and suffering from the hardships of the trip, had become very ill on the way. When she knew that her old friend was buried there she lost all hope, and although the train made a couple of stages further on their way, the poor lady was unable to stand the shock and sank to rest. Her last words were 'Take me back to sleep beside Naomi.' Her broken hearted husband and children respected these last words and retracing their way to where mother was laid, buried her there and beneath mother's name wrote 'Ann Yantis.' And there they sleep side by side. Ah, it was a hard and bitter time.

"After the death of my third brother father decided that the time had come to do something, so he had one of the lighter wagons emptied of all but our actual necessities for light camping and hitching the freshest of the mules to the wagon, started my brothers, myself and some other, women and children of the train on as fast as the animals could travel. He hoped we could reach The Dalles and so on to Portland before winter set in.

"AVhen we reached The Dalles we women and children were put on flat boats and floated down to the Cascades. Here we were obliged to walk across the portage to the landing and then take a little steamboat on down to Portland.

"At this place I was met by an uncle, Andrew Cowan, who took me home with him and I spent the winter very comfortably with my uncle and aunt.

"Portland was then a mere village with a two plank sidewalk extending along the few blocks which were built up, and mud, mud everywhere. It was certainly the muddiest, dirtiest place I had ever seen at that time.

"When father finally reach The Dalles with the ox teams he bought a good many of the emigrants' cattle and turned them out on the ranges in the vicinity. But. the hard luck Avith which he had been followed throughout the latter part of the journey still pursued the poor man.

"One of the coldest winters on record for that region set in and the cattle were caught by the heavy snows. The beasts were weakened anyway with their thousands of miles travel and in no condition to withstand the rigors of the climate. There was no hay or feed to be bought for any price so almost the entire drove perished. This almost bankrupted father and was a severe blow to the high hopes of wealth and prosperity he had entertained Avhen he started from Missouri. Four of his family left back on the plains, his money spent for the cattle and four helpless children on his hands. For T was little more than a child in years and having always lived on a plantation with servants to do everything about the house and mother to depend on, you may be sure I was very incapable and inexperienced.

"Came the Spring of 1852 and father was restless and wanting to go on to the promised land - Puget Sound - so chartering a flat boat to take us up the Cowlitz river after we left the steamboat at ]\Ionticello landing, we were again on our way.

"The memory of that trip will be with me as long as memory lasts. The flat boat, loaded with our very few household effects, was poled up the Cowlitz, but there was no room on the boat for us women and the children, so there was nothing to do but walk along the trail. This trail was through, in many places, brush so dense, that we crawled on our hands and knees to get along at all. In other places we were in mud well up to our knees.

Eobert. The poor little fellow was only three years old and had never become very strong from his attack of the measles the snmmer before. I, too, was weak and sick and in my mind thought I was not long for this world, and I must say, I didn't care much, life seemed so full of trouble and hardship. When we reached the Cowlitz landing w^e were met by mule teams which had been sent down from Olympia to haul our freight. The wagons were so filled and the roads in such a condition that I still had to walk across the country past Avhere Chehalis now is and on to Mound prairie. My companion on this dreary jaunt was JMrs. Hillory Butler, who with her husband w^as also coming to the Sound with us. She was very kind and good to the motherless girl and helped me earrj^ my little brother. Turn and turn about we plodded all those weary miles through knee-deep mud, hot, tired and discouraged.

"Coming out on Mound prairie we spied a cabin in a clearing. The eternal feminine asserted itself even under those distressing conditions, so before going to the house Mrs. Butler and myself stopped beside a stream of water flowing by and wading up to our knees, washed the bottoms of our skirts off the best we could, they being literally caked with mud, straightened our hair and then proceeded to the house where we proposed to ask shelter for the night.

"In the door of the cabin stood the fairest sight I have ever seen. It was my own dear cousin and chum, Sarah Yantis. Imagine the greetings received. Although over fifty years have passed over my head since then and I have changed from a pretty, young girl to a great-grandmother, I still recall the thrill of rapture with which I rushed into Sarah's arms and listened to her dear voice once again. When the train w^as divided Uncle Frank Yantis with family had remained behind and on reaching Portland had proceeded straight on to this section of the country. He had taken up a donation claim out on the prairie and was comfortably settled.

"Our first place of refuge on reaching this place was with a bachelor who had a comfortable log cabin a couple of miles from Newmarket - now Tumwater. This man's name was Ben- jamin Gordon, or Old Ben, as he was commonly called, and he was very good to ns all. Aunt and Uncle Andrew Cowan had come to this section of the country with us and for quite a while we all lived in ^Ir. Gordon's cabin - the Cowans, all the Hays children and father, when he was at home. There was a garden around the place and we had ail the milk and butter we wanted from Mr. Gordon's cows.

"I began to grow strong and well again and life opened up many fair promises. The young men from around the country began to find their way to the cabin and I had a great deal of attention and admiration. There were only four young ladies within a radius of many miles, Sarah Yantis, Charlotte and Lucy Barnes and myself. The young men used to come out to the cabin Sunday afternoons in considerable numbers. Those who had riding horses would ride and those who had not would walk and seem to think nothing of the miles traveled over the trail to spend a few hours in my company. There was generally a generous supply of buttermilk on hand and the boys made the excuse that it was for this cooling drink they had come. They were a brave lot of lads, gallant and stalwart. I felt an interest and friendship for everyone of them. Ah, me. where are they now? All, all gone.

"The young man who used to come most frequently to see me was young Benton Moses, who afterwards married my dear friend, Sarah Yantis. One Sunday when Mr. Moses arrived on his usual afternoon visit he was accompanied by another young man whom he introduced as John Parker. I will never forget the appearance of this youth that day. He had a beautiful riding horse, which he managed with splendid skill, but it was his getup which made the lasting impression on me. ]\Ir. Parker had a trading store in Olympia and carried principally articles for barter with the Indians. From this stock he had selected a pair of riding leggings which came to the knees, on his feet were beaded moccasins and on his head was a queer looking Scotch cap. He made a great impression on my young fancy even at this first visit. Afterwards, when he became a regular visitant at father's house, IMr. Moses used to tell with much glee how he inveigled Parker to th" cabin with tales of the nice fresh buttermilk to be had, but said never a word about the young lady who would pour the buttermilk for him. Mr. Parker at that time was extremely bashful and had never called on a young lady before.

"By this time father had taken up his donation claim, which is, as near as I can tell now, was situated where the road makes its first turn in goiug towards the Hays school house after passing the Masonic cemetery. I kept house for him and the children the best I could. Tom Prather, who was a distant relative, lived with us part of the time, and it was he who taught me about all I knew about cooking and j^'-eneral housework. He was always good and kind to all of us and his unfailing friendship has been one of the brightest remembrances of my life.

"Olympia then was merely a collection of shacks, with only two or three places of business of any kind. Mr. and Mrs. George Barnes were about the only married couple here when I first arrived, although others soon came. Mr. Parker's store was opposite the Pacific House, which place was afterwards kept by Col. Cock, whose .young wife became one of the warmest of friends to both myself and Sarah Yantis. We girls used to go in to stay all night at their hotel and ^Irs. Cock was so good to vis, throwing many a pleasant time our way.

"About the only amusement we young folks had in those dajs was hoi^seback riding. There were no roads and, of course, no buggies or other means of conveyance. The J^oung men used to come out to our house riding one horse and leading another for me. Later I learned that they generally borrowed Mr. Parker's horse for me to ride on. But that was before we had met, after that event it w^as always John who would come. He had sent to San Francisco for a side saddle for me, probably the first article of that description in the Northw'est. One of those three-horned affairs such as girls used to ride. Sarah could ride a man's saddle with perfect ease, sitting straight as an arrow and graceful as a reed, but I wanted a side saddle. I never saw a woman ride astride in those days and we would have thought it a very immodest thing to do. Times have changed in many ways since I was s. girl.

homestead about two years, keeping house for father and doing the best I could with what I had to do with. Mr. Parker had kept coming to see me. and although we were not really engaged, I thought we would be married some time. But there Avas nothing definite. Father began to grow restless ?gain and wanted to go back east once more. But what to do with me and the boys? He talked of it for several weeks, and I could see he was moody and uneasy. ]\Iy cousin, Sarah, had come from her father's home, still on Mound Prairie, to >})end a few days with me and we were planning to take a horseback ride one day in company with ]\Ir. Parker and Mr. Closes, who were coming out from town a little later. Father had gone on out to do some burning on the land he was clearing up in the far let. so I was surprised when he came back to the house and said 'Rushe, get me some hot water for shaving and put me out a clean shirt.' 'Why, father.' I said, 'are you going to town?' 'No.' he replied, 'I am going to attend your wedding.' ']\Iy wedding?' I gasped. 'Yes, your wedding. You might as well be married one time as another, Parker wants you and I want to go east.' I was almost dumb with astonishment and chagrin. I asked Sarah what I had better do and she very strongly counseled me not to listen to such a proposition. I was almost distracted. I didn't know what to do. I knew I loved John and knew that he loved me, but I had no Avardrobe and was not ready to be married. I sat down by the fireplace brooding and thinking, when ^Ir. Parker arrived. He saw at once something was the matter and asked me if I was sick. I told him I was not and he would have to ask father about what was the trouble. He went out in the yard and hail a long talk with father and then came in and asked me to sit on the steps of the doorway with him to talk matters over. He said he Avanted to marry me more than he ever had wanted anything on earth, but he had hoped to get in a little better financial shape before asking me to cast my lot with his. He told me he was a poor man and in debt - a former partner in an express venture had absconded with $5,000, for which loss Mr. Parker became personally responsible. 'But, Rushe.' he said, 'if you are willing to undertake the life I can oft'cr you now 1 will love and

"I got ready the best I could and Sarah helped me. i\Iy best dress was a black silk which I had made with a low cut neck and short sleeves. I thought I looked quite nice in that dress and so did John. Tom Prather cooked our wedding dinner and, besides Sarah as attendant at the wedding, was Uncle Frank Yantis. We stayed at father's house the first night and the next day took our deferred horseback ride to Mound Prairie and that was our wedding trip.

"Afterwards w^e went to housekeeping in a little cottage and there in the course of time our first child was born, our daughter Helen, now Mrs. Herbert IMc^Micken.

"Father then went back east, but returned by the time of the Indian war in 1855. He organized the first volunteer troops in the Northwest for the defense of the settlers, and was honored by being made commander of the united volunteer troops before the w^ar was over.

"My cousin Sarah by this time was married to young A. Benton Moses and was living in Olympia also. When the Indian war broke out ^Ir. ]Moses was one of the first white men to lose his life by the Indians. He was killed out on Connell Prairie while in company with a small body of men who were going to join the volunteers. The others were obliged to flee for their own lives and leave the poor lad there on the prairie. He was wounded but not killed outright. When he fell from his horse he begged his companions to save themselves and sent a loving message to his young girl bride. A few days later Tom Prather and a small company of men went out and brought the body back to Olympia.

"Never will I forget the tragedy of that funeral. Besides Mr. Moses there were the bodies of Lieutenant McAllister and Col. Miles, who were also killed at the same time. These bodies, placed in rude coffins, were placed in one of the two wagons in the settlement. In the other wagon rode Sarah, Mrs. Cock and myself, the men walking in a procession behind the wagons. Our wagon was without springs of any kind and such as are used to haul dirt in. There were no seats and only some boards laid across the bed. Several times these boards slipped off and let the mourners down in thi^ bottom of the wagon bed The day was dark and dreary and the road but little more than a rough trail. It was a terribh.' experience. To do honor to the brave boys who had lost their lives in the attempt to protect others, the citizens decided that a military funeral was proper, so music must be included. This consisted of a drum and fife. As we wended our way out to the graveyard over and over again did this drum and fife sound out the strains of 'The Girl I Left Behind Me.' That was the only tune they could play and they did the best they could, but I thought Sarah's heart would surely break. The graveyard was the one out on the road leading to what is now Little Rock, near Belmore. Here the three graves were made close to the road, side by side. And here soon after was laid the remains of Chas. H. Mason, the first Secretary of the Territory, a gallant young man of goou i'amily, who died of fever when only 29 years of age. I think the Thurston County Historical Society could do no better work than mark the last resting place of these heroes of the Indian war.

"But enough of these sad reminiscences. I will now tell about when the first State ball was held in Washington. It was in the nature of a housewarming. when Governor and ]\Irs. Stevens moved into the Governor's mansion, which the Executive officer had built soon after the arrival of his family from the East. This very same house is still standing on the l)lock now owned by Mr. Hazard Stevens, on Eleventh street, lietween ]\Iain and Columbia. It was considered quite a palatial residence when it was completed, and the invitations to attend the housewarming were eagerly accepted by Oiympia society. Almost every one was present. Sarah and I with our beaux attended. The night was dark and the trail rough, so lanterns were hung every few feet in the branches of the trees to guide us to tlie mansion. There was a dance following the reception and then a big supper. The dance was held in the parlor of the house and if room was scarce the jollity and good fellowship made up for all shortcomings. I think I can say that in the long and brilliant line of legislative balls and receptions that has followed this initial one. there has never been more genuine happiness and enjoyment

"My husband at that time kept the Gold Bar store and when the question of finding some place where the first meeting of the Territorial Legislature could be held, my father suggested using the room above his store. This suggestion was adopted and the place made in readiness for that historical event.

After a few years j\Ir. Parker went to steamboating. building and operating, I think, the first steamboat on Puget Sound, The Traveller, on the run between Olympia and Victoria. Later he was owner and captain of the Messenger, going to Seattle from this place. It took two whole days to make the trip down to Seattle and return, providing the tides were right and they had no breakdowns. Then for several years he was on the Alida, between the same ports. We went to San Francisco and staid there for ten years, but finally returned to the Sound.

"Besides Mrs. IMcMicken our children are: Gilmore Hays, Maude, now Mrs. Anderson of Tacoma, Herbert and John G., Jr., both of Seattle. Gilmore Hays died cpite recently."

Pioneer Reminiscences 107 John Miller Murphy

Mr. John ^lillor ]\Iiirphy has been more prominently identified with the growth and deveh)pment of Olympia and Thurston County, and for a longer continuous time, than any of the men who braved the hardships and dangers of the wilderness. For fifty years Mr. ]\Iurphy, through the columns of the Washington Standard, worked for the advancement and prosperity of the community. For over two thousand six hundred weeks the Standard was a welcome visitor in the majority of the homes of Olympia and Thurston County. The editorials in these many issues Mr. Murphy penned with his own hand.

IVIr. Murphy has recorded the appointments, through the columns of the Standard, of eleven Territorial Governors, commencing with Governor Wm. H. Wallace, and including Governors Pickering, Cole, Moore, Flanders, Salomon, Newell, Squire, Ferry, Miles C. Moore, and the elections of Washington State Governors Ferry, JMcGraw, Rogers, McBride, I\Iead, Cosgrove and Hay. When the Standard was born James Buchanan was President of the United States. A search through the back files of this paper show the announcements of the inaugurations of Presidents Lincoln, Johnson, Grant, Hayes, Garfield, Arthur, Cleveland (twice), Harrison, JMcKinley, Roosevelt and Taft. Among the most interesting of Mr. Murphy's reminiscences, as recorded in The Standard, tells about the young editor being in Portland, Oregon, for the purpose of attending his own wedding. Just as the young couple were about to take the stage for their home on I'uget Sound, a San P^rancisco steamer arrived in port with the late newspapers on board, bearing black letter headlines, "Fort Sumpter Fired On."

Mr. Murphy called the boy selling the papers and bought the entire supply, saying nothing of the great news to the rest of the passengers until reaching Olympia.

Arriving here he hurriedly turned his bride over to the care of the hotel people and rushed for the Standard office. All the printers in town were set to work at the cases aftd within a few hours an extra was cried upon the streets of Olympia with huge headlines announcing the beginning of the v/ar. "And," added JMr. Murphy, "as I told the story of the firing on Fort Sumpter all in the headlines, the people saw at a glance the reason for the extra's appearance and not one cent did I realized from the issue. Besides, I paid the boys $1 for selling the papers on the streets. Since that time I have kept part of my story for the columns of the paper instead of spreading it all out in the headlines."

The description of the way the news of Lee's surrender was received in the Capital City was very amusing. There was no better way to celebrate important events in those days than in patronizing the saloons, and as the news spread along the streets a rush was made, first for the Standard oft'ice, then, all together, to where the men could properly air their enthusiasm as well as quench their thirst. There were very few men in Olympia in early days who never visited saloons, but on this glad time no one was exempt, and if a man refused to do his share of the drinking it was up with him to the bar. spread him flat on his back and pour brandy down his throat until the crowd felt that a sufficient amount of patriotism had been imbibed.

To this day the veteran editor's voice falters when he recalls the reception in Olympia of the news of the assassination of President Lincoln and the impression made upon the citizens.

"We had planned a big celebration of some local event," said Mr. Murphy, "and had brought the Fourth Infantry band from Vancouver at an expense of more than $200 to play for the celebration and ball in the evening. At that time the first telegraph office in the Northwest was just across from the old New England hotel. The band was on the balcony of the hotel playing lively airs to the delight of the entire population of the town. The telegraph operator came to the door of the office with a face as white as a sheet. Without speaking a word to anyone the operator stepped to the band leader and handed him a slip of yellow paper. The leader glanced at the slip and gave a hurried order to his musicians. Without

"The crowd was appalled and when the last strains died away a man stepped to the front of the balcony and announced: 'President Lincoln has been assassinated.' There was not a dry eye in the assemblage when the people realized the meaning of the message."

When the Standard was started Olympia was a village of about 1,000 population. Seattle consisted of two or three houses with a store and saloon to represent its business, and Tacoma was unknown. There was a five column weekly published in Seattle - The Seattle Gazette - but the proprietor was unable to handle any job work at all, the consequence being that for several years every line of job work for Seattle and all of the territory this side of Portland was sent to Olympia and turned out in the Standard office.

Among ^Ir. ^Murphy's proud boasts is that he was the first new^spaper carrier ever employed on the Oregonian, of Portland; and that he was an attendant at the first school ever organized in that city. It was in that city, also, that he learned the printer's trade, setting his first type on the Oregon Weekly Times, within two years rising from office "devil" to foreman. The Standard has fought the Democratic fight for the past half century with the exception of the civil war period, when Mr. Murphy upheld the Lincoln administration.

John Miller Murphy was born in Indiana and left an orl)han at an early age, living with his elder sister, INIrs. George Barnes. When nine years of age the lad, in company with Mr. and Mrs. Barnes, crossed the plains Avith the regulation \oke of oxen and underwent all the hardships attendant upon the trip across the continent with that means of conveyance. This trip was made in the year of 1850, and Mr. Barnes decided to settle in Portland, where he started a store, selling general merchandise. .John was put to work as a clerk in this store, although little mor(^ than a l)al)y. Among the pleasantest of the recollections of these early days are memories of the good times the lad enjoyed as a singer in the famous church choir with Dr. Griffin, of the M. K. church, leader. Mr. ^Murphy, as boy and man. loved music and toolc keen delight in musical associations.

In 1851 ]Mr. Barnes decided to remove his store to Puget Sound and selected Olympia as the best known settlement in the new country. The contents of the store, together with the household goods, were shipped on the sailing vessel JMary Taylor, around from Portland, but j\Ir. and Mrs. Barnes and Johnnie rode horseback across country. The boy rode the same horse as his sister, sitting astride, holding on to the woman to keep from slipping off. When Olympia was reached the family had to wait three weeks for the arrival of the ^lary Taylor with their goods.

The store was the first in Olympia. M. D. Simmons, of Tumwater, had a trading post for Indian supplies, but the stock Mr. Barnes brought was the first general merchandise store on the Sound. The lad, by this time ten years of age, took his place behind the counter and was as efficient a clerk as any man would have been.

The experiences the lad had with the Indian customers were quite amusing. He declares these people are the worst thieves in the world, or were in those days. When he would be measuring calico, of which the aborigines bought great quantities, a squaw would give the cloth a quick jerk to pull the length a few inches longer than the regulation yard, much to the disgust of the young clerk, who spent a good part of his time watching them to prevent them stealing from the store.

The currency of ^Ir. ^lurphy's early recollection in this section of the world consisted of Spanish dollars, American halves and quarters, Spanish doubloons, worth $16, and slugs, which were eight sided bars of solid gold, and worth $50. For convenience in making change the ]Moffatt Company of San Francisco coined five, ten and twenty dollar pieces. While these were of no value as legal tender, everyone was anxious to secure the pieces as they weighed exactly the denomination represented and were of pure gold without alloy. There Avere very few dimes in circulation, no nickles, and to have tendered a penny piece to any one in those days would have been equivalent to an insult.

The Indians preferred silver. They didn't seem to understand gold money, and greenbacks were so uncommon that they had no knowledge of them as currency. If an Indian had a sum due him to the amount of* $5, that sum nuist be paid him in five one dollar pieces. Should a $5 gold piece be tendered the brave he would shake his head and say: "Tenas chickamun. wake ticky" - -"little money, don't want it." ^Ir. Barnes kept a candle box under the counter filled with silver dollars to pay out to the Indians. However, the Indians had no appreciation of the value of money. If they could be induced to work at ail they would work all day for the same amount they would charge for bringing a single bucket of water from the spring.

The early settlers all procured their water from the common spring which flowed clear, cold and delicious on the present location of the Chambers Block on the corner of IMain and Fourth streets. The housewives wouhl hire the Indians to carry the water for them to supply their daily needs.

The young Murphy, still of tender years, was set to work clearing off the block of land which was the Barnes home. With one half breed Indian as an assistant, the lad toiled all one winter cutting down the huge cedar trees, sawing them into lengths, rolling them together and finally burning the piles of wood. The work of digging out the stumps left by these big trees taxed the lad's strength and endurance almost to the breaking point, but finally the task was accomplished and the land was afterwards built upon by ]\Ir. Barnes and became one of the beauty spots of the city.

There were no bridges across the two arms of the bay for many years after the town had become to be finite a place, and from where Fifth Street now extends to Capitol Point was an unbroken line of Indian tepees and shacks. The entire portion of the town was comprised by the blocks between what is i;ow the corner of Fourth and ^lain Streets down to the waterfront, and before the filling was done the tide came up to Second Street.

When the Indian war broke out. and reports of the White River massacre was received here, the Indians were told thev must go. They remonstrated at leaving land which they had always looked upon as their own and did not fancy the idea cf pulling up stakes and moving away, but the settlers were firm. As the alarm grew the citizens began to build the stock- vde which was one of the most uiiicjiie structures in the history of the Northwest. This stockade extended clear across from bay to bay the length of Fourth Street.

The stockade was 20 feet high, built of four inch plank. Crosby's mill at Tumwater was kept running night and day, and night and daj- did the citizens work at the defense. ]\Ien, women and boys all helped in the building. When the stocki'de was finished all moved inside, those few families who had their homes outside the enclosure locking up their houses the best they could and seeking safety with the others. This condition of affairs lasted several months and until an armerl cruiser, the Joe Lane, came up the harbor. This cruiser carlied a lot of arms and every woman and boy Avas furnished with one of those long barrelled muskets, whose "kick" was more deadly than the bullet. To add to the defense the citizens l)ossessed an old cannon, which ancient piece of artillery would certainly have meant sure death to the gunner if it had been fired off with any considerable load, was mounted in position to sweep an approaching enemy, and M'as the pride of the jjeople. When all was completed, the Indian chiefs and head men were invited to inspect the defenses and were shown that the whites were in readinesss and able to protect themselves, but still they lingered until the Joe Lane put in an appearance. AVhen they saw the white man's "big canoe" and heard the guns thunder forth a volley of salutation as the cruiser came into port, they decided that quitting time had come, so "folded their tents like the Arab, and silently stole aw^ay, " never to return to settle in any considerable number in the immediate neighborhood of the town.

"When I first came here, among the ladies I can recollect were ]Mrs. Alexander, !Mrs. Rider, ]\Irs. Forey, ]\Iary and Barney Wood. There were ahvays enough ladies to fill out at least two sets of a quadrille at the dances which were then the popular amusement. And such dances - sometimes lasting not only all night but two and three nights. Five dollars a ticket was the usual price, with an elegant .supper at the hotel. No punch and wafer affairs in those good old days. The Connell Brothers and their fiddles w^ere called into requisition, but Oliver Shed was really the star musician at the dances for ha

"Among the business men I can recall during my first years in Olympia were Lightner, Parker & Coulter Co., merchants, the second firm to open a general merchandise store after Mr. Barnes; Chas. A. Weed, baker; I. C. Patten, blacksmith; Mr. Thornton F. McElroy, who started The Columbian c'bout this time, and two saloons, but as I never frequented them I cannot remember the proprietors' names.

"In connection with my recollections of the Indians I lecall one incident which has filled me with disgust for the breed ever since. What was called a sulphur-bottom whale, probably 90 feet in length, floundered up the bay, one morning in the early '50s, and on reaching the shallow water was unable to swim out to sea again and was stranded as the tide went out. This was a rich find for the Indians. They cut off great chunks of the meat from the sides of the whale, and when this part was cut into portions the Indians climbed right into the location made famous by Jonah, the insides of the immense fish being considered a special delicacy by the filthy things.

"Well, I became tired of working for relations and wanted to go back to Portland, so I bid the Barnes" good-bye and started out to seek my fortune on my own account. When I reached there I apprenticed myself out to learn the printing trade on the Oregon Weekly, with John 0. Waterman, editor, and owned by Carter & Austin. Later I went to Oregon City and worked on a paper belonging to D. W. Craig. After a year I located in Vancouver, Washington, where I started the Chronicle. At the end of three months I sold out and returned to Olympia.

"This was in 1860, and soon after my arrival here I started the Washington Standard, which I personally conducted and edited until about a year ago.

"When I returned to Olympia I was still uinnarried, but had my courting done. I was engaged to be married to ]\Iiss ^laguire, a daughter of the family of Oregon printers. As soon as I had established my business and saw reasonable prosperity ahead of me, I went to I^ortland for my bride.

trip in one day. This trip had formerly taken three hard days' travelling. But the roads had been so much improved and a generally better service provided that the trip had lost much of its tediousness.

"For five years The Standard was published in a little building on the corner of First and jMain Streets. In 1885 I purchased the land where my office and home stand to this day.

"When I was ready to move my office I procured a scow and floated it right up to the door of the First street office, loaded my cases and press and other printing material on it and poled the scow over to the new office, unloading and getting the scow out of the way on high tide. That is the time I cheated the express man.

"I well remember when the first pony express was started between Monticello and Olympia. The riders made the trip in half a day, changing their riding ponies every few miles. Twenty-five cents was charged for carrying a letter and a proportionate charge for small parcels.

"Music, sweet music, was ever my heart's delight. I have always taken the greatest pleasure in music and although I make no claims to ability in that line I certainly enjoyed plink plunking my guitar. Many a pleasant night, in company with Jim Hays, Dave Drewry and Henry Willard, have I gone from house to house serenading the pretty girls. The other boys all performed on violins and Avith my guitar we made some very creditable music. At least, we thought we did, judging from the pleasant receptions we received from our charmers. We would assemble beneath some fair one's window and pour forth dulcet strains until we would see a light appear in the window, a signal that we were heard and appreciated. Sometimes the girls would invite us in and give us refreshments along with their thanks.

"Well, the years have gone by. I have retired from the publishing field, but the lure of printers' ink calls me even yet, and one of my pleasures is in writing some of the pioneer reminiscences as they occur to me.

"Early in life I adopted the slogan, 'Be not fearful to speak out, but be sure to speak right.' I can think of nothing more to add. I am down to cases. William ]\Iitchell and myself are the only ones still living of the men and women I found in Olympia at the time of my first arrival."

The B. L. Brown Family

That this compilation of reminiscences should have been started 25 years ago was never more forcibly impressed than when the compiler undertook to gather the chief and most thrilling experiences of those delate pioneers, Benjamin F. Brown and his wife, ]\Iary Olney Brown. Of the eleven children born to this couple, only the second to the last child, Oscar Brown, could be located. Oscar has been away from Olympia so much of his eventful life, that, perforce, his recollections of the early Olympia days are overshadowed by more exciting events in his life. Twice around the world, mining in Alaska, hunting and trapping along the Natches Pass and still wilder spots, taking adventurous cruises all alone in his trusty sail boat, ranger and guide in the Olympic reserve, Oscar's life history alone would fill a good-sized volume.

But had the writer only been inspired to start this worlc during the life of that noblest Roman of them all, Theodore L. Brown, what a rich field of tale and anecdote could have been opened up. He was full to the brim of stories of his early experiences, and as he was older than the remaining son, could remember farther back along in the days when his family lived on the old donation claim, a couple of miles down on the west side of the bay.

Benjamin F. Brown was born in South Orange, New Jersey, but removed to Iowa while still a young man. Here he met and married Miss Mary Olney and after a few years of married life, the young couple decided to try their fortunes in the Golden West that was then beginning to attract the adventurous with its fair promises and glittering prospects.

The long trip was filled with more than the usual hardships and sorrow, for cholera and scurvy broke out in their train and many deaths among the emigrants were caused by these dread diseases. The Browns laid two of their little children away in lonely graves beside the muddy Platte River

The grass on the plains was so dried up and the travelling so hard that all the horses that the couple started out Avith died along the way, the oxen began to give out, everyone who possibly could had to walk to save the animals' strength and finally the cows, which were being driven along to supply milk to the emigrants and for a start of stock in the new country, were yoked up with the oxen. Mrs. Brown told her children many a time, in happier times, about their finding a lone woman crying beside the road one hot, dreary day. Her family, horsee all had died, leaving her there on the plains absolutely alone The Browns picked her up and brought her along to Oregon with them, sharing with the unfortunate woman theii s^'an+i store. Another of the many incidents of true nobleness aL.^ generosity that stand out a white mile stone along th^ dari path of these early pioneers.

This trip was made in 1846, and the first stop for anv length of time was made at Portland. A few years were spent at this place, and in the Spring of 1852 Mr. Brown, Washington i'rench and John French came on up to Puget Sound. The country was then quite well known and attracting considerable attention. ]\Ir. Brown's family was left in Portland, while he located on a donation claim that was for many years to be the homestead. The Frenchs also took up donation claims and became among the best known and respected of the early settlers. Washington French married a sister of Mrs. Brown.

When Brown returned for his family, he found that all his cattle, which he had left on the ranges near The Dalles, had perished the previous winter. All the live stock he had remaining was one poor, lone black cow. At this time an uncle of Mrs. Brown's, Cyrus Olney, had started a fruit nursery near Portland, the first one this side the Rockies. He raised his trees from apple seeds brought over the old Oregon Trail in ox wagons, and as the trees grcAV rapidly and thrived exceedingly Avell in the rich soil, there was enough stock on hand to furnish Mr. Brown with a supply to bring to Puget Sound and sell among the settlers. These young trees were peddled clear to Steilacoom, over what is now Chehalis and Thurston and Lewis Counties. One dollar a graft was readily Maid by the settlers. This was the first start towards the fine

Mr. Brown's next business venture was to build the historic wharf on the Westside in partnership with John French. At this wharf were unloaded all the freight that came to Olympia from San Francisco for years, until Capt. Percival built the dock which is in use at the present time. Here steamers loaded wood, which J\Ir. Brown had cut and hauled by the hundreds of cords from the timber in the immediate vicinity of the wharf. Later Brown sold the timber on his donation claim to the veteran logger, I. C. Ellis, for 50 cents per thousand.

Oscar Brown is still able to recall tales his mother used to tell her children about the exchange of courtesies between herself and the officers of the naval ships which would come into the harbor. Among the army officers she knew was U. S. Grant, then a stripling of a lieutenant, stationed at Fort Vancouver. The story runs that Grant was then as wild and daredevil as any.

The mother's stories of their escapes from the Indians and the siege of terror in which the family lived for weeks, expecting an attack any night from the savages, are among the children's most vivid recollections. For several nights the whole Brown family slept out behind a big log, not daring to stay in their house for fear of a night raid. Finally the danger menaced so strongly that the family came to town and took up their quarters in the block house. During this time their son Theodore was born.

In the year of 1866 the Browns took up a homestead on White River and loading all their effects on a three-ton sailboat, made Johnson's Point the first night, and then by easy stages the rest of their water trip. An Indian trail was followed when the boat was abandoned, and so on to the new home.

Later, Mrs. Brown took the children to Seattle and put them in school, the Territorial University being the place where the younger of the children received the greater part of their education. Theodore and his sister Harriet, who afterwards became Mrs. Murphy, developed very pleasing voices and whenever an entertainment of home talent was put on

Mrs. Brown was a woman of remarkable energy and possessed of considerable literary talent. Her poems and writings for the local papers were much admired by her friends. ]Mrs. "Coldwater" Brown the lady was called in later years when the familj' returned to Olympia to live. She earned this title from the many cures she effected among children ill with fevers and other ailments. Her cures with applications of first hot. then cold water, were said to have been quite remarkable. Far and wide, in the country as well as in town, Mrs. Brown was sent for, night or day. She always responded to an appeal for help with unfailing zeal and kind heartedness. Her memory is still cherished by the descendants of the pioneers.

In searching over an old scrap book compiled by her son Theodore, was found the poem written by his mother, which is appended. It possesses true literary merit and is a fitting testimonial to the lady's ability in this line.

In 1891 the youngest son of iNIr. and JMrs. Brown carried the first flag to the top of ]\Iount Rainier that was left there. Some years previously one of the Longmires had carried a United States flag to the top, but had brought it away with him. Brown and party carried a flag staff with them and with great difficulty reached the summit. The staff was securely kept in an upright position with a pile of large rocks heaped around its base. The colors were hoisted and w^aved out in the fierce wind which was blowing. Scarcely had the flag straightened out than the wind snapped the staff off clean and blew staff, flag and all beyond their reach down the mountain side. Two years later the flag was recovered and pieces of the banner sold on the street of Seattle as souvenirs, a piece a few inclies across selling for one dollar.

A sister, Mrs. Seth Murphy, died a luimber of years ago in Olympia. Theodore Lee Brown had always had a Idvc for the old homestead, which had long since passed into strangers" hands. So in the later years of his life and after many adventures and wanderings, he purchased part of the land and began to build up a home. "The Firs," one of the best known of summer cottages on the Olympia water front, was built by him.

much of the work around the x)Iaee in the shape of rustic seats, the artistic name over the door and other more practical things being the work of his own hands. And here it came to pass his life ended where his life had practically begun after a pleasant and useful life of 56 years. In 1886 Theodore married iMiss Martha Strange, of ^lenasha, Wisconsin, and his widow makes her home during all the summer months at the place he held so dear - The Firs,

Mount Rainier

(Poem written by Mary Olney Brown, a pioneer woman). Beautiful mountain, grand and sublime, Thou standest alone in thy pride ; Thy base firmly fixed on the adamant rock, Thy head in the clouds thou dost hide.

Say, tell me, how long since thou first was upheaved, From the bosom of earth thou didst rise ; Since the white snows have crested thy breast And thy head thou hast hid in the skies?

How oft have I gazed on thy snow covered peak, With rapture no language can tell; And thought couldst thou once be permitted to speak, Of strange things thou surely would tell.

Thou couldst tell of the time when old ocean's tide First rolled its bright waves to the shore ; When beasts of the forest roamed over the earth And the birds in the air first did soar.

Save a few hoary ruins and burial grounds, By trees of the forest o 'er grown ; That tell us that since those nations have lived, Long ages, indeed, must have flown.

But silent thou standest, in grandeur sublime And enraptured I gaze on thee still ; "With feelings no language of mine can express- ^Ty heart strings convulsively thrill.

Mrs. Jane W. Pattison

The place Mrs. Jane Willey Pattison holds among the ranks of Thurston County pioneers is almost unique, for while every woman who came to this country over the Old Oregon Trail endured hardships and privations, dangers and sufferings, Mrs. Pattison 's experiences, as related by herself, were so wild and thrilling that the pen of the compiler hesitates in seeking words strong enough and description sufficiently vivid to show the bravery and genuine pluck of this little woman.

Born in Ayreshire, Scotland, not far from Glasgow, daughter of well-to-do parents, the little Jane was brought to New York City when but three years old. Her life in that city is among Mrs. Pattison 's earliest recollections, and she can remember it when it was but a scattering hamlet with but a few thousand inhabitants.

When Jane was seven years of age the Willeys moved into what was then the wilds of Illinois, taking up the occupation of farming. Here Jane grew to young womanhood, received her education and, in 1847, became the wife of James Pattison, one of several brothers of a neighboring family.

"You know college-raised people generally are not much account, but my people were A No. 1," the little woman asserted, with a pardonable pride, "and they had me taught how to do a great many useful things, and a number of accomplishments besides. But Father-in-Law Pattison was a man terribly set in his way and when he said, ' We '11 go out West, ' none of his sons dared to object. We - my husband and myself - wanted to go, too, in a way, but I didn't like being dictated to by the old man. but we finally decided to come along, though father-in-law was always boss of the train, and when he said stop we'd stop and when he said go on Ave'd travel, and it was that way the whole time of the long trip from Illinois. Mr. Pattison called for so many vexatious delays and was such a poor manager that we got caught out by the winter when we reached the Cascade Falls above Fort Vancouver. When we left Sparta, Illinois, there were the seven Pattison brothers, Mr. and Mrs. Pattison, senior, myself, with a three month's old baby in my arms, and another family named Willey, distant kin folks. This family, however, became dissatisfied with father-in-laAv's management and left our company before we were caught b}' the snow and cold.

''When we reached where The Dalles, Oregon, is (but which was then a perfect wilderness), the men cut logs and made a raft for us to go on down the Columbia River. Our baggage was piled on this rude craft and we humans huddled on as best we could. We were twelve days travelling nine miles. The winds were so strong that we were always being blown back the way we had come. The icy water was often dashed all over us and we were pretty thoroughly discouraged. When we reached the Cascades the snow was deep and the weather bitter cold. One of the Pattison brothers drove our oxen along the trail beside the river to where they could get some grass to eat. The brother then returned to help make the raft and when they went to look for the cattle they had strayed away and we never did find them. We were first snowbound in the latter part of November, and on Christmas day we reached Portland.

"When at the place where we Avere held up to make the raft our provisions were exhausted and we had absolutely nothing to eat. Had it not been for the kindness of an Indian family who were camped not far from where we were we would have starved to death. This famil,y had a considerable stock of salmon, dried and pounded, which I always thought looked like the stuff they stop up cracks in boats with (oakum). This family was mighty good to us and let us have enough of the salmon to keep alive on for four or five weeks. In payment Mr. Pattison told them to pick out whatever we had that they wanted, and, if they didn't choose my clothes. So one by one I had to see the articles of my wardrobe disappear - now a dress, then a skirt or jacket, and so on till my clothes were all eaten up and I had a good many, too, for I hadn't been married a great while and my parents had given me a good setting out. Well, by the time mj' clothes were all gone, down to one ragged skirt and jacket, the raft was done and we man- aged to get on down the river to where Portland now is, but there Avere only a few log cabins there then. A man loaned us a boat and we went on up the river to Oregon City, which was a settlement of several houses. Our men folks got work on the road which was being built from this place to Portland, and we were fortunate enough to find an empty log house into which we could move. I didn't go outside the house; I was that ragged and poorly dressed I was ashamed, besides I had all those men to cook for, the baby to take care of and mighty few utensils to manage with. I didn't even have a washboard and it was no light task washing the heavy shirts for those men, besides Willie's - the baby's clothes. Well, one day a neighbor woman, Mrs. Moore, called to me across the back j^ard and asked me if I wouldn't like to do some sewing for her. I eagerly accepted the offer and she told me she would give me calico for a dress for myself if I would make her one. I was just plum tickled and when her dress was done it looked so nice and neat that the other women in Oregon City asked me to sew for them, too, so I began to earn enough to get myself some decent clothes again. I was always up at daybreak in the morning and would sew every minute I could spare from my cooking and other work, and w^hen night came I would make up a big fire in the old fireplace and sew by the light of the flames. I had no other light of any kind.

"After about a year of this life Father-in-Law Pattison decided we would come up into the Cowlitz country. I hated to leave Oregon City, for the men could get work there and I was beginning to get a little used to the place, but we had to come. Our means of travel this time was down the Columbia River in Indian canoes manned by Indian braves. When we reached the mouth of the Cowlitz River we found one family already settled there - the Catlins. They were very kind to us and showed us man}'' favors. Father-in-law liked the looks of the country and decided to stop there. A little shack was built 'way out in the brush and we soon moved in. One day a white man, heading a train of about one hundred Indians, came riding up to the shack. The Indians had their ponies packed with bundles of dried furs which they were taking to the Hudson Bay trading post, which Avasn't very far away, on th'? Columbia River.

Pioneer Reminiscences J25

" 'Hello,' called the man, 'my .name is Roberts and I am manager of the Hudson Bay post; can I stay here all night/' " 'Why,' I said, 'you see, we haven't much room,' but he said the Indians could camp on the ground outside the house and if only he could sleep in the house he would be satisfied. AYe let him do that and a very pleasant and talkative man he was, too, and very interesting. During the evening he told about having a ranch or clearing further on up the Cowlitz River and said he didn't see how he was going to get it worked, for it took all his time to manage the Hudson Bay property. ]Mr. Pattison didn't say anything, but I just wanted to break away from the old folks and take up Mr. Roberts' offer more than I ever wanted anything in my life. In the morning Roberts went on his way, telling us that he would be back within a few days. The old man must have guessed what was in my mind, for he gave me hardly any chance to talk to my husband alone, but when Mr. Roberts came back again and we were all sitting around the fireplace in the evening I managed to get my seat right in front of my father-in-law's where he couldn't see my face and when ]\Ir. Roberts began talking again about his clearing. I said, ']\Iy husband and I have decided to accept your offer and go and work your ranch if you want us to.' Husband didn't say anything, but father-in-law was terribly mad, but couldn't object right there. So then and there the bargain was struck. 'When can you be ready?' asked Mr. Roberts. 'We haven't anything to get ready.' I told him, 'so we can go any time.' In the morning Mr. Roberts sent some Indians with us in a canoe, together with what few possessions we could call our very own. We travelled all day up the Cowlitz, and when we finally reached the landing were met by a Hudson Bay man, a friend of Roberts', a ]\Ir. Goliar. A brother of my husband had taken the trail along the river's banks with the span pf mules with which we proposed to plow the land. At the landing we were met by a brother of ]Mr. Roberts with a yoke of Spanish oxen and only the running gear of a wagon. I just couldn't stick on that wagon gear, so our things were tied on as best we could and Willie and I were put on one of the mules. I had a man's saddle and had to hold the baby, so couldn't manage the beast very well, and when we were about four miles from the end of our destination mv mule bucked me, Willie and the saddle off. I struck my head against the root of a tree and that is where I g"ot this scar." (Mrs. Pattison pushed back her silver hair and showed a very perceptible scar above the temple). "Husband came back to see what was the matter, and as we still had four miles to go and as it was getting on towards night I just had to climb up on that mule again and ride him on to the clearing. Well, when we finally got there we found that the house we had been promised was a good half mile away and not finished at that and it was raining hard. What to do then? There we were miles and miles from anywhere with no roof to cover us for the night. While the men were bemoaning the hard plight I looked around and spied a sheep shed that had been abandoned the year before by the Hudson Bay people, as it was their custom, when one pasturage was eaten off, to drive the flock on to some new place. I went over and looked in and decided that here, at least, was shelter, for there was a fairly good roof and the dirt floor was dry, although lumpy and rough from the sheeps' feet. I called the men and started to fix a pole across one side of the pen to hold our bedding in position during the night. I then had our bedclothes unloaded from the wagon and made the bed so the baby could go to sleep. There was a big log right in front of the opening or door of the sheep shed, so the men made a big fire there and I got supper. As the season was getting late, the men had to go right to plowing, so they left Willie and me there to get settled as best I could. The first thing was to clean house, so I hacked a good stout branch off a tree and with long tough grasses I managed to tie cedar branches to this stick for a broom. I then swept the roof and w^alls of the shed, smoothed down the dirt floor the best I could and began to make my furniture. Not far from the sheep shed there had been a barn made of boards hewn out by hand and put together without nails, the joists tied together with rawhide thongs. During the previous winter this barn had blown over sideways, loosening a number of the boards so I could pull them away. The only tools I had to work with were a hammer, ax and augur - no saw, and I would have given an eye tooth for a saw.

long, I slipped them along the dirt floor, letting one end push out under the logs, which didn't come quite to the ground. Many and many a trip I had to make betvveen the barn and the shed before I had finished, Willie trailing along after me every trip, never whining and complaining as most babies would do these days - just trailing along. When the floor was done 1 hacked with an ax enough boards to go inside, and with these made a sort of a platform on one side of the shed. On this I spread a lot of hay that had been left in the barn and there was our bed. When the barn was blown over it left exposed some of the round stumps Avhich had been used for corner foundations. I rolled two of these to the shed - our seats. After a long time and with lots of work. Mr. Pattison and I bored auger holes in the boards of the floor in which we fixed two upright sticks cut from the woods ; on these I put some boards, letting one end extend out through a crack between the logs, and so we had a table - all the furniture we wanted or could use. I did my cooking and Ave kept warm by the open fire in front of the shed. We lived there all that summer and until the crops were harvested. Later in the fall we moved into Mr. Roberts' house, a half mile away from the field, which the men finished in a rough way for occupancy. While in this house a band of Indians came by one morning. They came close to the door to look in, as we w'ere a sort of curiosity' to them. Willie stood in the open door watching them, and so came in contact with them. Their papooses had a contagious disease, but I didn't know it then. The baby caught this disease and died within a few days. I thought I never could get over that blow. When the crops were gathered we took the wheat to the barn of Mr. Gobar, our nearest neighbor. and flailed the wheat out on his floor. He gave us the use of his fanning mill and we had a considerable lot of wheat and potatoes to pay us for our summer's work.

"One day while I was sitting at the door of the sheep shed with Willie playing at my feet, who should come riding down the trail but a white woman with a little boy astride on the horse behind her. It proved to be Mrs. George Barnes, who Avas just married and coming to Olympia from Portland AA'ith her young husband. The boy Avas her little brother, John Miller Murphy. Hoav glad I was to see one of my sex I can never tell yon, and years afterwards when we finally settled in Olympia, ^Mrs. Barnes renewed the acquaintance began in front of the sheep shed and we became fast friends. oMany a night ^Irs. Barnes would take her lantern and come along the trail to my house to visit me during the evening while my children were sleeping. She was a good woman and I will never forget her.

"About this time we decided to take advantage of the Government's liberal offer in regard to donation claims. In those days to every man was given the chance to take up 640 acres of land and, as an encouragement to the women who had to endure the trials and privations of the wilderness, for a very few years the Government made the offer to her of an equal amount of land as that her husband was given, as a sort of a recompense for her hardships. Uncle Sam gave us women this land just as he would a new dress or something else we wanted real badly, for it was a recognized fact the women were worth as much as the men in settling up and developing the new country. Well, with an ox team we came to Tumwater, or Newmarket, as it was called then. Crosby's mill and store was about all that there was there. We swam the oxen across the Des Chutes River and went out on what was even then called Chambers Prairie, travelling through big woods all the way. David Chambers was living on the Chambers homestead and we took up our donation claims next to his. Pattison Lake was on our place and was named from my husband. Here we built what was to be our home for many long, hard years - a log cabin, added to from time to time as the babies began to come. Three of my children were born there. It was a hard, lonesome life I led there. It seemed that if ever there was a hard, unpleasant thing to be done I was the one to be called on. For a few years I had no babies to keep me tied down, so whenever the neighboring women for ten miles around were sick, or there was a new baby came, or a death - any trouble - I was always the first one sent for, and I was nothing but a kid in years myself."

Here Mrs. Pattison ceased talking for a moments and began silently musing into the past. Her eyes grew dreamy and it was plain that once again the heroic woman was ministering the wants of the friends who long since have finished their

*'Yes, indeed, I was in the Indian war, and knew the instant ISlr. William White was killed, for I heard the shot and saw part of the struggle. Mr. White, with his wife and her sister, i\Irs. Stewart, had been to church that day, the two women, each with a little child in her arms, were riding in a cart, with Mr. White walking behind with the lines in his hands driving the horse, when the Indians emerged on foot from a little point of timber a little ahead of them. They began to struggle with JMr. White and the horse became frightened and ran away with the women. This brought them away safe, and the last Mrs. White saw of her husband in life he was grappling with a big Indian buck. We knew very well that Mr. White was killed, but none dared to go after his body that evening, so all night we waited in fear and trembling, not knowing what moment the Indians would attack our cabin, but we were not molested, and in the morning my men folks started after Mr. White. I told them to take one of my sheets along, which they did. They found the body where they thought they would. There had evidently been a great struggle before Sir. White gave up his life, for the ground was all torn up and trampled. Mr. White's dog had stayed by his master all night. The Indians had stripped the body of every stitch of clothing except the boots. Our men placed the body on a board they had taken for that purpose, spread the sheet over him and brought the remains to the spring in front of our house. They called me and I bound up the dead man's head the best way I could to hide the cruel wounds and bruises the Indians had made. One arm was broken and he was shot through a vital part. Then I spread another clean sheet over the form and the men carried him on the board to a vacant house belonging to Mr. Chambers. I followed on foot and that wasn't an easy thing to do. When we got to the house we were joined by Mrs. White and the neighbors. Among the most pathetic events of this awful day was the arrival of IMrs. Bigelow, Mr. White's daughter. Mrs. Bigelow had only been married a little over a year and was quite a young girl. She came galloping up with her four-months '-old ])al)y in her arms, the rain simply pouring down on the mother and child.

My husband took the baby and helped the distracted girl from her horse. She ran into where her father's body was laid and I tell yon that M'as hard. too. I warmed the baby and tended it all day. That baby is now Mrs. Tirzah Koyal.

"We buried Mr. White out in the little cemetery on Chambers Prairie and then had to return to our homes. When I started back, one after another of the neighboring women begged to go with me and stay at our house till the scare quieted down. So in all we were fourteen who were sheltered by our two-room cabin. Here we stayed for three weeks while the men were building the block house. This block house on Chambers Prairie was standing until a few years ago. As I had a big Dutch oven I baked all the bread that was consumed by these fourteen people, and I can tell you I baked every, and all day, too.

"When the block house was finished we all moved in. The families who were there at that time and who had rooms in the block house were Thomas Chambers, the McMillans, Mrs. White "with her children, the O'Neals, the Parsons and Mrs. Stewart. Mrs. Stewart gave birth to a baby the day after we moved in. Almost all our men had joined the volunteers to fight the Indians and we women, with the children, had to stay there all the time with one or two men left to guard us. We brought our water from the creek, the banks of which had been cleared of brush so the Indians couldn't ambush there. It was very unhandy to do our work, for each family had only one room in the block house to live in, and everything - cooking, washing, sleeping - had to be done in this one room. I got so tired of that way of living that we were the first familj^ to return to our home, but we were not molested and soon took up our regular way of living.

"Well, the years passed and we had three children who were ready to be sent to school, so we sold my part of the donation claim to David Chambers and moved into town, where the children could have advantages and see something. We came to Olympia the week Lincoln was assassinated. I was glad to come, for we were all good and tired of living away out there. We bought a place of John Swan, on the Eastside. which has been the Pattison home ever since, although the orchard that my husband planted has long ago been divided up into city lots and is almost all built over now. When we moved to our new home, Mrs. Bigelow, Mrs. Horton and a little later, Dr. Lansdale, were my only neighbors. We have had seven children, only two, my son James Renwick and Mrs. Brad Davis, are still living. My husband, father-in-law, all the Pattison brothers, my babies, all are gone, but I am still here."

Louis Bettman

Louis Bettman came to Olvmpia in 1853 from the land of his nativity, the province of Bavaria, Germany, while a mere lad of 20 years of age. In company with his brothers, Mose and Sig Bettman, he opened a general merchandise store in the newly settled hamlet of Olympia. The location of this pioneer store was on the corner of Main and Second Streets. Indeed, all the business conducted in the hamlet was centered within a radius of a very few blocks in that neighborhood. Contemporaneous merchants were George Barnes, Gus. Rosenthal and Thomas Macleay and Samuel Percival.

There was very little money in circulation among the pioneer settlers, consequently much of the trade consisted in bartering groceries, shoes and dry goods for butter, wool, hides and some grain. As the price allowed for these commodities was very low and the demand from San Francisco brisk for every kind of produce, the profits accruing to the merchants by the exchange was considerable.

In 1860 Mr. Bettman took a pleasure trip to San Francisco and while there met and fell in love with ]\Iiss Amelia Coblentz, who was visiting in that city from her home in Los Angeles. After a very few weeks' courtship Mr. Bettman persuaded Miss Coblentz to accompany him on his return to Olympia. The young couple started for Puget Sound immediately after their wedding. A journey of four days on a sailing vessel before Olympia was reached.

In Mrs. Bettman 's own words: "We landed at Brown's wharf, down on the west side, which was the only landing place for large vessels then. My first breakfast in the town was taken at the Pacific House, on the corner of Fourth and INIain Streets, with 'Aunt Becky' Howard as landlady-.

"We soon went to housekeeping in a tiny house owned by Judge Landers, which stood for many years on the site now occupied by the Mitchell Hotel. The place was then well back in the woods and surrounded by tall, ugly stumps. I sometimes thought I'd just die of homesickness when I first came here, everything was so new and strange and rough. I thought I never could endure to spend my young life amid such scenes. But when the children began coming and my household cares kept increasing this feeling gradually wore awa}' and before I realized it I had gained quite a circle of pleasant acquaintances and began to feel at home and satisfied.

"The people in the town then were like one big family. Every once in a while we would get together for an all-night dance. Everybody danced with everybody else. There were no cliques - nobody ijut on stjde, and everything was free and easy. My intimate friends among the pioneer women were Mrs. George Blankenship, Mrs. Rosenthal, Mrs. Chas. Burmister, Mrs. George Barnes and ]\Irs. Captain Doane."

Mrs. Bettman was reticent in talking about herself and husband, but it needs no historian to recall to the memory of the old timers that Mr. Bettman was always prominently identified with the prosperity of the growing city and at the time of his death in 1904 had accumulated a considerable property and left a reputation for business integrity and personal honor which entitles his memory to a niche in the hall of fame of Olympia pioneers.

Three children were born to ]\Ir. and Mrs. Bettman : Belle. Mrs. Oppenheimer ; Josephine, who died several years before her father, and W. W. Bettman, the latter still conducting the store founded by his father over 60 years ago. Mrs. Bettm.an is best known locally through her untiring labors in the Ladies' Relief Society. For many years she has been chairman of the relief committee of this society and wherever and whenever she hears the call of want or distress Mrs. Bettman responds with ready sympathy, judicious expenditure of the society's funds and unfailing judgment.

Thomas Prather

A dark, rainy afternoon was devoted to g-atliering such fragments of the reminiscences of that Nestor of Pioneers, Thomas Prather, as stood out most prominently in his recollection.

Had the compiler of this sketch kept to original intentions and recorded word for word the story of Mr. Prather 's experiences as told by himself, the reader, as was the writer, would be led a merry chase from Boone County, Missouri, to California, back to the boyhood home again, then to Oregon, down to Panama, out to sea, struggling with sea sickness, to the Colville gold fields, fighting Indians, making love to the Pioneer maidens, canoeing, surveying, logging, always in the front ranks of action, and ever and always every whit a man, and now, in his declining years drifting into a quiet eddy, spending his days at peace with his God and his fellow man.

As the tale progressed and Mr. Prather 's memory travelled back to the scenes and incidents of those stirring times a reminiscent glow came into his eyes, his form straightened and many times he would stride around the room in the excitement of calling once again from the shades of the past those friends who, shoulder to shoulder with him, laid the foundation of our city and made possible the prosperity and advantages the descendants of these men and women enjoy today.

Although Mr. Prather 's reminiscences were often rambling and embroidered with many irrevelant particulars, his memory was surprisingly good and his unswerving loyalty to his old time friends and associates was a beautiful tribute to the warm feelings these Pioneers entertained for each other. The essential incidents of Mr. Prather 's life as told by himself are as follows : makes me in the neighborhood of 82 years of age. I was the fifth son of my parents, and a hard struggle we had for existence on my father's plantation in the then territory of I\Iissouri. My father died when I was only eight years old, and I can remember spending many a day in the hot sun dropping corn for 25 cents for the ten hours' work.

"In 18-19, came the story of the gold strike in California, and my brother James took the gold fever and left for the West. The following Spring of 1850, I said: 'Now, Tom, no more working for 25 cents a day, when you might as well be getting from $6 to $8 a day in the gold fields.' So in spite of mother's remonstrances, I left the school room, joined an ox train, and came to California, spending seven and a half months on the journey.

"AVhen I got there, sure enough, I went to work at once for $6 a day, and soon had saved up $250, which was more money than I'd ever had at one time before in my life. I was sick, however, and thought I had better pull out of there and go home. I went by water this time, by the way of Psnama.

"I had no sooner got back to Missouri than the lure of the "West called me again, so in the Spring of 1852, when Judge Gilmore Hays and Andrew Cowen, as partners, organized a wagon expedition to come to the almost unknown country called Oregon, I tendered my services, which were accepted.

"This train consisted of fourteen wagons, with a total of 99 human beings, men, women and children. Among the emigrants were the four Hays brothers, all of whom remained in the West and became identified with Thurston county's early history, four Yantis brothers. Dr. N. Ostrander and twenty-five young men, the latter paying the partners, Hays and Cowen, $125 each for grub and for having their blankets hauled across the continent. They all rode their horses, as did I, myself. Most important of all the train's people to Tom were five (in my eyes), beautiful young ladies, who rode with us every day on their own horses. As I was generally a handy man about the train, I said to myself, 'Well, Tom. here's where you have a picnic,' so I made the charge of these girls my special duty, helping them mount their horses in the morning and to dismount when camp was reached. These girls were Kate Yantis, her cousin. Sarah Yantis, afterwards

''One other special duty was assigned me by Captain Hays and it was to see that, every morning as camp was broken, that a pair of saddle bags were securely strapped onto a stripped mule, which was always ridden by the oldest Hays boy, and well I should be careful of these saddle bags for in them were $12,000 in $20 gold pieces, which Captain Hays was bringing with him to buy cattle and stock the homestead which he proposed preempting when the Golden West was reached.

"Well, before the train reached The Dalles, which was our destination, I became infatuated with the appearance of the Grande Rounde valley and persuaded the captain to sell me a wagon-load of flour, bacon, sugar and coffee. I set a small 'A' tent up beside the road and soon disposed of the entire stock at ciuite advanced prices to the emigrants who came along the train and were running short of provisions.

"I again joined Captain Hays at The Dalles and helped him drive a drove of cattle, v.-hich he had purchased down ttc Columbia river, to the site of the City of Portland, although tiien but a settlement of a few log houses.

"In the Spring of 1853, I came to Olympia, which was only a few years old. Did I come in a steam car? Did I come in an automobile, or even did I come in a dead ex wagon? No, sir, Tom walked every step of the way from the Cowlitz landing, carried his blankets and worldly possessions and thought it but a pleasure jaunt.

"When I got here there was just one white woman in Olympia." (Mr. Prather's memory probably failed him here for there were several women living here at that time, ]\Irs. George Barnes, Mrs. Alexander, INIrs. Rider, Lucy and Charlotte Barnes, Mary Wood, Mrs. Pullen, afterward Mrs. R. H. Wood and several others who contemporaneous pioneers were enabled to remember).

"There were about forty-five white men, and three children. I am sorry, but I have forgotten the woman's name. There was a big band of Indians camped on the west side, coming to this side in canoes for the purpose of bartering fish, oysters and berries for sugar, flour, bacon and calico.

"I especially remember J(ihn ]Miller Sliirphy among the white people I found npon my arrival in Olympia. He was then a fat, red-cheeked lad of probably ten years of age, living with his sister, Mrs. Barnes, and a favorite with everybody.

"The donation claims of Edmnnd Sylvester, Edwin Marsh and James Swan covered all that portion of the territory which is now known as Olympia, East Bay avenue and the East side. Old timers still refer to Swantown and IMarshville in speaking of these sections.

"Charles Weed was the baker for the settlement and the bread he turned out of shorts was considered a great luxury by me. Of course, when a sailing vessel would come in from San Francisco there would be some white flour, which was eagerly bought up by the storekeeper, George Barnes and Weed, but there was never enough to last till the next ship arrived. However, the store of clams was inexhaustible and the settlers were beginning to raise potatoes and garden truck, and once in a while a steer was killed, so we had fresh beef occasionally, and there was plenty of the best fish in the world, but clams and hard tack were the staples of life.

"In those days the newspapers came from San Francisco about every six months, so we were always a half year behind the happenings of the outside world. It was considered quite an event when finally a mail route was established and v\^e got our papers onl^^ three months behind date of publication. My first work upon arrival in Olympia was logging for Captain Percival, up the creek, which even then, and still, bears the name of this noted pioneer sea captain. After spending a few weeks at this work winter set in and the camp closed down. George Barnes then offered me $100 for clearing the block of land he had recently acquired, bounded by Fourth, Fifth, Adams and Jefferson Streets, which Avas for so many years the Barnes home, and which is now, so it is said, to be the site of the new railroad depot. As this piece of ground was then covered with high cedar trees and part of it submerged by the high tides, I refused the offer and spent the winter with a small crew of men slashing thirty-five acres of forest land for Nathan Eaton, nine miles from town, out on Chambers' Prairie.

helped make the first survey of an airline from Portland to Paget Sonnd. I stayed with this surveying party two years, when the Indian war broke out - in 1855. Then I quit surveying to volunteer under Judge Gilmore Hays, who was raising the first volunteer company in the territory.

"The call for volunteers was made b}'' Acting Governor Charles H. Mason, as Governor I. I. Stevens was at that time in the Blackfoot country, trying to make treaties with the Indians there.

"This was in 1855, and our company comprised 80 volunteers. We were mustered in at Fort Steilacoom, Judge Hays being commissioned captain. Our company was then sent east of the mountains, as it was there that all the trouble with the Indians was reported, the Puget Sound, or "Fish" Indians, as they were called, being apparently friendly to the whitest.

"But we had no more than crossed the mountains than along comes Bill Tidd, the pony express rider, with a message from Acting Governor Mason to the effect that Col. Steptoe. in command of the United States troops, was surrounded at Walla Walla by 1,000 Indians and that the Puget Sound Indians were also on the warpath. We were to hasten back to protect the settlers in the White River country. Returning to this side of the mountains, through the Natchez Pass, we camped for the night at Connell's Prairie, just about where the interurban line traverses the White River valley. In the morning Captain Hays detailed me and four other men to guard the supplies and with the rest of the company, which had now been increased in numbers by the addition of Lieutenant Slaughter and twenty soldiers from the United States troops, started to ford the White River to battle with the Indians. As the men plunged into the river, the Indians, concealed along the banks on the far side, opened fire and about a dozen of our men were killed, after which the Indians retreated through the jungle. As they carried their dead and wounded with them, we had no means of knowing how many of the enemy our men picked off, but from blood prints along the train they certainly met with a considerable loss.

"Captain Hays and his men came back to the camp for the night, and in the morning, each man taking one day's rations with him, w^e started after the Indians along a trail

SO wild and narrow that we had to go sing-le file most all the way. We could hear the Indians not far ahead of us - their ponies crashing through the brnsh and dogs yelping. In this way we came to a branch of Stuck river, I think it must have been. The Indians were not in sight, but it was expected they v\"er3 ambushed on the other side of the river. Captain Hays called for volunteers to wade across the river and draw the Indians' fire, if indeed they were hiding in the brush. After a moment's hard thinking I said: 'Yes, Captain Hays, I'll go.' Then Lieutenant Slaughter, "William Billings, Joe Gibson and Joe Brannon joined me.

"When I stepped into the water I went in over my waist mto a chuck hole made by the Indian horses. IMy blunderbuss got wet, but I held it over my head the rest of the way across the river. Every step I expected the next instant would be my last, but v/e reached the far shore in safety and vvxre joined by the rest of the company. The boys began firing wildly into the brush, but as I didn't see anything to shoot at. I saved my bullets and waited before firing. So it came abor^t that I was never really in an Indian fight, for after crossing the river the trail grew so bad that Captain Hays decided we had better return to Montgomery's, a Hudson Bay man's place, and v/ait further orders. Soon after this the entire company was ordered to Mound Prairie, near Tilley's ranch, for winter ([uarters.

"At this time Captain Hays was made Major General of the united companies of the volunteers of the territory, but as the time for which I had enlisted had expired and the war was practically in the hands of the regular troops, I was honorably discharged and did not re-enlist.

"My next venture upon returning to Olympia after my discharge was to join Captain J. G. Parker for a trip to Victoria, B. C. Captain Parker had sent to San Francisco for a tiny steamboat, which was loaded on a sailing vessel and landed at tlie Etheridge & Miller sawmill, a mile below Priest's l^)int, and there fitted up for the sea. This small craft was the very first steamboat on Puget Sound. Captain Parker named her 'The Traveler,' and as soon as she was fitted up put her luider charter of the United States government to bring military supj)lies from Victoria, for which the government was to pay $50 a day.

"I was made mate of the erew, and, of course, Parker was captain. Soon after leaving Port Townsend, which then the only port of entry, the engine gave a fearful screech and went dead. There we were, out of sight of land, no canoe or other means of leaving the boat, the waves of the Straits of Juan de Fuca all but rolling over us, helpless, and at the mercy of wind and tide. Then and there I made a vow that if ever I reached land again no more sea life for Tom. But in the morning we were sighted by a sailing vessel, the Potter, and towed into Victoria harbor. There we found that the boiler had split in two places wiiich had allowed all the steam to escape.

"We got the boiler repaired, loaded and was about to start on our return trip when there passed by our boat an Indian brave with a big canoe in which were his squaw and pappooses. I hailed the buck and in Chinook asked him, 'Where go?' 'Townsend,' he replied. So I told him I would tow his canoe and give him and his family passage on our big canoe to Port Townsend. He was tickled at the chance and I was tickled, too. I didn't want to go drifting around those waters again without some kind of a boat on board.

"This ended my steamboating, although Captain Parker made several other trips on the Traveler, which finally sank near Port Townsend, where for years the top of her smokestack could be seen at low tide, although she finally slipped off into deeper waters and the exact spot of her grave is not known at this day.

"I then went back to surveying, and in 1858, helped locate the military road from Fort Steilacoom to Fort Bellingham. I am the man who drove the first stake in a preliminary survey of the Northern Pacific Railroad, under supervision of Jared S. Hurd. This was near Snoqualmie Falls, in King County. About this time I acquired the lot of land on Washington Street, which for so many years was known as the Prather home.

"For twelve years I was county commissioner, which is the only public office I have ever held. I think I may state, without undue boasting, that it was largely through my efforts that Thurston County received the $150,000 from the sale of public lands to build the county court house, the same building which is now the state capitol building, having been purchased by the state about fifteen years ago.

"In the early seventies I became a guard at the asylum for insane at Steilacoom and took my third trip East in 1876, to attend the Philadelphia exposition. Soon after my return to Washington I was married at Steilacoom to Miss Agnes Winsor, who was also an attendant at the asylum, although for the twelve previous years had been teaching school. To us were born three children, Edith and her twin brother, who died in infancy, and my son Samuel. Edith is now Mrs. Walter C. Thompson, and lives in the Puj^allup valley, and my son is in Alaska."

Wm. H. Mitchell

The following biographical sketch of Mr. Wm. H. JMitchell, one of onr most respected citizens, was typewritten by his son, A. B. Mitchell, who is wholly blind, and is so crippled from rheumatism that he cannot walk or care for himself. This is a remarkable verification of the fact often noted that the loss of any one of the five senses renders more acute the others. In this, the sense of touch or feeling has produced a manuscript that is the equal of most experts on the machine. It is, therefore, published verbatim: