Thurston County, Washington - The whole text, 1914 (part 4 of 9)

"I was born in Chicago, 111., NovemDer 13, 1834, and a few years later moved with my parents to w^hat was then South Port, Wisconsin. The name has, however, since been changed to Kenosha. When I had reached the age of 18, I had contracted a severe case of Oregon fever and had made up my mind to take the long trip across the plains, my objective point being Olympia. My parents objected at first to my going, but later acquiesced and assisted me in preparing for the trip. Accordingly, arrangements were made wdth Samuel Holmes for me to travel with his family as they were leaving that Spring for the same part of the country to which I wished to go. A horse was also provided for me to ride and on the 9th of April, 1853, we left South Port and traveled about nine miles that day, and on the next day, Sunday, my father and mother, with my sister Eliza, drove out with a horse and buggy and overtook our slower moving ox team. They took dinner with us there at the beginning of our long journey. They then returned home while we once more turned our faces to the setting sun.

"The trail across Iowa was a slow and tiresome one on account of the soft condition of the roads, the wagons often going down to the hubs in the mud. There were plenty of others, however, like ourselves, making for Council Bluffs, and there would often be quite a train of us. We were generally delayed in the mornings. I remember JMrs. Holmes, who would still insist on bathing her children every morning. She found this to be impossible later on, however. Council Bluffs was at that time a central pjint, where the emigrants got together and formed their wagons into trains for the trip across the plains, and here could be found all types of the frontier life mingled together. It was here that a three-card monte man relieved me of nearly all the money that 1 had. This was a seiious loss to me, but I think I profited by the experience.

"We crossed the Missouri River, June the third. Our train, consisting of about twenty wagons, was well organized, having a captain and train master. Our course now led up the north bank of the Platte River and there was no sign of human habitation to be seen anywhere. We met a trader occasionally, sometimes on horseback and sometimes they would 1 ave a tent stretched beside the road vs^ith their goods displayed in front, but as they charged so much for everything they had to sell no one purchased of them until compelled to do so by sheer necessity. There were also bridges built over some of the rivers and at such places there would be one of these men to collect a toll before allowing you to pass over the bridge. There were a few Indians also, but they were not hostile at that time and never attacked us. We also saw quite a few buffalo and at one time it was necessary for us to open up our train that a herd of them might go through, otherwise they would have run right over us. I presume there must have been a thousand buffalo in that herd. It was in this section of the country that we encountered a severe thunder storm in which the tent where i\Ir. and IMrs. Holmes vv'ere sleeping was blown down and they were forced to come into the wagon where I was, to get away from the rain. We arrived at Fort Kearney on July 4th, having traveled a little over a thousand miles since crossing the Missouri River.

"We now began to see more signs of the hardships to which those that had preceded us had been subjected, as the trail was strewn with deserted wagons and stoves, in fact, with everything that could be spared to make the load lighter and everywhere was to be seen the bleached bones of cattle that had either died or had been killed for food. The Indians were also more watchful. On one occasion two young men of our train, thinking thov could get along faster on foot, started on ahead one morning and that afternoon Ave came upon them. The Indians had killed one and the other was so badly wounded that he died soon after. We buried him in his blankets beside the trail on the bank of the Snake Kiver and the next day w^e were overtaken by another train and they told us that the Indians had dug him up and taken his blankets and left his body on top of the ground. I have often wondered since, though I thought nothing of it at the time, why they never picked me off, as I was in the habit of riding ahead of the train and after fastening my horse to my wrist, I would lie down and wait for the train to come up. The only time that I was shot, however, w^as accidental. I was stooping down to get a drink from a river when my revolver slipped from its holster and was discharged, the ball lodging in my right forearm. It was removed by one of the men with his pocket knife, this being the best medical instrument to be had. The Indians were around us and we would often see their camp fires at night in the foothills surrounding our camp.

"We crossed the Snake River by caulking our wagon boxes with rags and using them to ferry the women and children across while the cattle were made to swim. Our stock of provisions becoming depleted, Mr. Holmes was compelled to buy from a trader at La Grande, Oregon. It was at this place that one of the men of our train had his wife stolen by the trader. I remember hearing him calling through the camp for her, but she had gone and taken the youngest child with her and he did not tind her.

"At Fort Walla Walla our train divided, part going down the Columbia River while the rest of us went on north and through the Natchez pass in the Cascade mountains. When we arrived at the foot of the mountains we sent two men forward to see if we could get over and they returned, reporting too much snow for the wagons, so it was decided to leave our outfits at a Catholic mission that was there and proceed on foot, letting the women ride whatever there was to ride.

"Mr. Wooden and myself were the first to start over the pass and we found the way not nearly as bad as had been represented and by taking advantage of cut-of¥s, we made very good progress and without misadventure until the last night in the mountains we became separated. Mr. Wooden took what he thought to be a cut-off while I stayed on the trail, and, at night, as he did not rejoin nie, I called him but received no answer. So I went to sleep at the foot of a tree and the next morning when I awoke I found that I had rolled several feet down the mountain from where I went to sleep and it was raining hard, so after stretching a piece of canvas over some brush to keep the rain off, I built a fire and was cooking the last of my store of rice when ]\Ir. Wooden came into my camp. We ate the rice that I had prepared and started on our way again, and that afternoon met a Mr. Connel, who gave us a little flour which Ave cooked on the end of sticks and ate. Mr. Connel was a very good friend to the emigrants and often helped them with provisions, as he had a cabin on the west side of the mountains, on what is now Connel 's prairie. He was killed by the Indians in the uprising of 1855-6. M^e took supper at his house and then, after hiring horses from some friendly Indians, pushed on to Fort Steilacoom. I reroained there but a short time, however, but went in a canoe with a Mr. Skidmore to Mud Bay, where I expected to go to work in his logging camp, but this I did not do, but went with him the next day in a canoe to Olympia, arriving there on the 6th of October.

"j\Iy first job, after arriving in Olympia, was to split and carry in a load of wood for J. J. Westbrook, who ran a saloon on the east side of Main street between Second and Third. After that I worked at whatever I could get to do. I joined the volunteers to fight the Indians in the uprising of 1855-6. serving but twenty-one days, when we mustered out. After this I was deputy sheriff under Isaac Hays.

"In 1856 I went into business with John Stewart. I was tending bar at the time for Mr. Westbrook and Stewart asked me if I wanted to go into business, to which I replied that I (lid. but that I had very little money. John, however, said he would speak to Mr. Hurd, who wanted to sell his baker shop, and Mr. Hurd agreed to give us time to pay for the business, so we bought him out and John, l)eing a baker, took charge of that part of the business, while I did the best I could by tending the butcher shop, which we had also. The first year we cleared enough to pay what we owed and also to buy the twostory building which is still standing on the southwest corner of Third and ]\Iain streets.

rest of those who were in our train when we crossed the Cascade mountains. Mr. Holmes and his family settled near Olj'mpia. Bird Wright and his two brothers, with their families, located in the Puyallup valley, as did a Mr. JMorrison, who was a minister. Mr. Wooden went first to the Nisqually, but later moved to Seattle, where he started the first tannery. His son-in-law, a Mr. Schock, also settled a few miles out from Seattle. Mr. B. L. Johns, with his eight children, one of whom afterward became my Avife, located a claim on White River, near Seattle. Mr. Livingston settled in Seattle, while his two daughters, one of whom married Will H. Brannon, located near White River. Mr. and Mrs. Brannon, with their children, were killed by the Indians, and Joe Brannon, Will's brother, after the war, came to Olympia.

*'0n the 13th of April, 1859, I was married to Martha T. Johns, in Olympia. To this union, five children were born, William Walter was born Feb. 29, 1860, and died about eight months later. Frank Wellington was born July 4, 1862, Henry William, July 30, 1865, Cora Edith born July 7, 1867. and Albert Bennett, born Aug. 7, 1870. There are also living nine grandchildren.

"My son, Frank W., died on March 19, 1914, in Portland. Oregon. My daughter, Cora Edith, is now Mrs. A. L. Young of San Francisco, California."

Pioneer Reminiscences ' 147 Andrew Chambers

Had the pioneers who built up this country, and through whose labor and enterprise Washington has grown from a beautiful wilderness into a land of homes and cultural advantages, only taken the time and trouble to write down the history of their early trials, adventures and hardships, and - in many instances - final success, as did Andrew Chambers and his wife, ]\Iargaret White Chambers, the work of compiling these reminiscences would have been reduced to the mere collection of the sketches and presenting them in book form. But too often, although these men and women realized their experiences were unique in the history of the world, and the days they might tell of were a closed chapter in history which could never be repeated, owing to the march of civilization, the task of actually writing down any record of events seemed too formidable or were put off to a later time - which time never came.

But the children of the honored couple whose stories are given in connection with this article, were insistent with their parents, and aided them in every way possible to put their reminiscences in lasting form. Well they did so, too, for now both Mr. and ]\Irs. Chambers are gone to their last rest, leaving only cherished memories.

The histories give a completer and more vivid description of the life of those days than would be possible to obtain in any other way. Of a high order of intelligence and with a natural eloquence, the writers of the sketches were enabled to { -'esent the pictures of those wild days with a charm and clearness that no words of the writer could add to, so the reminiscences of Mr. and INIrs. Chambers are given word for word as they have written them.

Mrs. Chambers dictated her sketch to her youngest daughter, Nora, and the other daughters were so pleased with their mother's story that they had it preserved in the form of a booklet.

The ten daughters of whom the mother speaks of so lovingly, were : Elizabeth, now Mrs. J. H. Hnnsaker, of Everett ; Eliza, now Mrs. R. T. Grainger, of Puyalkip; Addie J., now Mrs. G. N. Taleott of Olympia ; Ella, who was Mrs. II. Raymond, but who has been dead for many years; Rheta, now Mrs. C. L. Denny of Seattle ; Selma, who died about ten years ago ; Margaret, now Mrs. Wm. Calhoun, of Seattle ; Estelle and Edith, both of whom died in infancy, and Nora, now ]Mrs. W. T. Hoskins, living at present in Sacramento.

Mr. Chambers realized the wishes of his wife as expressed by herself, and ended a long and honorable career by passing away peacefully in the old home on Chambers' Prairie. He died in April, 1908. Margaret White Chambers survived her beloved husband a few years longer, but sank to rest in December, 1912. Husband and wife sleep side by side near the scenes of their many trials, joys and sorrows, in the family plot in ]\Iasonic cemetery, near Olympia.

My father's reading Lewis and Clark's Journal was the means of our crossing the plains. We started the first of April, 1845. Our company consisted of my father, Thomas IM. Chambers, mother, Letitia Chambers, five brothers, James W., David J., Thomas J., Andrew J. (myself), John and IMcLain. and two sisters, Mary Jane and Letitia. My brothers, James and David, were married, and their wives, Mary and Elizabeth, accompanied them. We started from Morgan County, Missouri, and crossed the IMissouri River on a ferry at St. Joe. This place marked the last of the settlements. From this point we travelled the old emigrant road up the Platte River. Our journey led us through what are now the states of Missouri, Kansas, Nebraska, Wyoming, Idaho, Oregon and Washington. Then this was a wilderness with only the old tracks of emigrants that had passed that way in 1834-5. We crossed the Kaw River about forty miles from St. Joe on a ferry; after that we forded all the streams to which we came. The first day that w^e saw buffalo was on the South Platte River and it was buffalo as far as the eve could reach. We

Andrew Chambers And Wife Pioneer Reminiscences 149

Buffalo and antelope were plentiful for twelve or fifteen hundred miles. Hunters sometimes put a handkerchief up on a stick and the antelope came around to see what it was, and often we killed them by shooting from the wagons. We had to go out to the edge of the hills to hunt buffalo, except the first day we saw them, of wdiich I have spoken.

Opposite Ash Hollow we crossed the Platte River, which, though wide and shallow, was difficult to ford. on account of the quicksands. We passed near to Chimney Rock, which rose like a great chimney from the level country. We could see this land mark for a number of days and passed it within five or six miles.

At Fort Laramie, on the North Platte River, measles brok'^ out in our family and we had to lay by fifteen days. We had overtaken other west-bound wagons on our journey and our party now comprised thirty wagons. While being detained here about one thousand wagons passed us and most of our company joined a party and left us at Laramie.

From Fort Laramie we traveled to Fort Hall, in Idaho. We had tried travelling with large and w4th small companies and found that we got on much faster with small companies, but it was very hard to stand guard with only a few in the party. We fell in with a company of fifty wagons. Their teams had been scared by the Indians and had got in the habit of stampeding. They stampeded one day while we were with them. It was a terrible sight to see fifty teams running, each team of three or four yoke of oxen - about three yoke of cattle was an average team. There was no way of holding them except to hang on to the yokes and call to the cattle. It was an anxious time for the women and children in the wagons. One ox fell and broke his neck. This was the last day we travelled with them. After leaving Fort Laramie Ave had fallen in witli the wagons of what remained of our old eompan\'. This was all that saved us from the stampede on that day.

This event recalls the first Indians we saw. Father was captain of the company. He ordered the wagons into two lines, the women and children to stay in the wagons, except those able to carry guns. I can recollect seeing mother marching along carrying a rifle. All the horses and cnttle were driven into the enclosure made by the wagons to protect them from stampeding. We never stopped, but marched along- in two lines, with the wagons and the horses and cattle between them. Father stepped out to meet the chief, who was coming towards us. The Indians seemed friendly, but wanted tobacco. As soon as father gave one tobacco another would step up and say "Me big Chief, too." Father gave them all that he had in his pouch. There was a large camp of the Indians and it appeared that this was a war party and that they had been out to fight other Indians. They were now on their way home.

On much of our way, wood Avas very scarce. We always sent a party ahead of us to find wood, grass and water. We found buffalo chips plentiful for at least a thousand miles and often we had to use them altogether for fuel. On the Sweetwater, in Wyoming, we caught a great many nice fish.

From Fort Hall, we travelled to Fort Bridgers, which was about 200 miles north of Salt Lake. A man by the name of Bridgers was located here and carried on trade with the emigrants and with the Indians. From here we went to Salmon Falls on the Snake River, and here we met a few Indians, but they were friendly. Until we crossed the Rockies through the Devil's Gate, we travelled up hill and up stream, but after w^e crossed the Snake River, the waters flowed westward, and we could almost see where the divide came.

From Salmon Falls we travelled two or three days down the river before we crossed. We found a place where there was an island in the river. We crossed to the island first and then went diagonally across the rest of the river, which was about three-fourths of a mile wide. We always took horses and rode across the rivers we had to ford and found out exactly where the wagons ought to go. The fords were always thoroughly prospected before the teams were driven into the water. We found at this crossing the deepest part was eight or ten feet wide, and deep enough to swim the cattle, the rest of it averaged about two feet deep. We blocked up the wagon beds as high as the stanctards would allow to keep our goods dry and hitched on ten or twelve yoke of cattle to the first wagon. The other wagons were fastened together, one behind the other. There w^as a chain attached to the tongue of the wagon following and that in turn to the hind axle tree of the forward wagon. The drivers went to the lower side of their teams to keep the cattle braced up against the current and to keep the direction slantingly up stream. They had to hold on to the bows of the yokes to keep themselves braced up, too. By the time all the teams were in the water, the lead teams were in shallow water and we were finally safely over, without wetting any of our goods.

Shortly after this our oxen began to give out. We became uneasy for fear we could not travel across the mountains, which were before us, on account of snow. To be caught on the east side of the mountains meant almost certain death. AA^e began to break in the cows. AVe started across the plainiv with about twenty milk cows. B.y the time we reached Th« Dalles, in Oregon, we had about all the cows broken in. They were lighter on their feet and travelled much better than the oxen. AVe didn't know at that time that we could have saved our catties' feet by providing ourselves with shoes and nails before leaving the States.

Three or four days before we came to Fort Boise, we were camped on a creek and when supper was ready and each one had set down to his place on the ground, an Indian, standing there, knelt down at the place intended for a man named Smith. As soon as Smith finished washing himself, he knocked the man over with a stick and took the place himself. Sticks which the Indians had used for digging roots or for some other purpose, were lying around plentifully. The Indians looked very sullen after this, and next morning one of our horses was gone - stolen. AVe travelled on as though nothing had happended for two days and came to a place where we thought it advisable to rest the cattle for a day, there being good grass and water there. James Chambers, Smith and myself concluded to ride back that evening to the place where we had lost the horse, and it might be we would find an Indian camp and do something terrible. Smith wanted to kill an Indian. AVe rode all night and when we reached the place another party of emigrants were camping there and we found an Indian there, riding on the horse which was stolen. Smith felt all the time that his act had been the cause of our losing the animal and he was very anxious to straighten things out by killing an Indian. Brother James went around the camp one way and I, another. I came upon the Indian on the horse and

I caught the horse. Immediately Smith insisted on shooting the Indian, but some of the campers interfered. They contended that we were out of the way and that if we killed the Indian his friends would come and take revenge on them. They also argued that this, maybe, was not the Indian that stole the horse and they urged us to make the women in camp feel easy by releasing the Indian. After considering for some time we decided to let the Indian go and give him something to recompense him for being nearly scared to death. He was so badly frightened that great drops of sweat came out on his face. The next thing to consider was what to give the Indian. As it was coming on to the fall of the year, mother had supplied us well with shii'ts. I had enough to last me two years and I had on two at this time. They agreed that I must pull off one of my shirts and give it to the Indian. So I did, and all parties concerned, except myself, were well pleased, the Indian most of all.

From Boise w^e travelled to Grande Rounde and after we passed the valley and came down off the Blue mountains into the Umatilla valley we saw lots of Indians. Mary Jane, my sister, was then a comely girl, about sixteen years of age. Indian chiefs offered my father fifty horses and a hundred blankets for her. They didn't care whether the girl was willing or not. They wanted a white "klootchman." This was their custom, to pay for their ''klootchman." ]\Iary Jane was frightened and she never showed herself when the Indians were around.

"When we were wnthin a few days' journey of The Dalles, and after we had crossed the Des Chutes River, two horses were stolen from us. "We went back from Fifteen IMile Creek to a village near by and called on the Chief. He said he would have the Indians bring in the horses. We waited about his tent, keeping guard, until an Indian came in with the horses. They claimed that the horses had been stolen by some bad Indians and that a good Indian brought them back and that he ought to have pay for it. We had become accustomed to paying, so we were prepared to give a shirt. This satisfied them.

Our trip had not been a pleasure trip, for from the time we left St. Joe each one of us had to stand guard about once a week and from the time we left Fort Boise each one had to

On October 15 we arrived at The Dalles. On account of the lateness of the season, we selected a place for winter quarters. This was on a creek about two miles from the Methodist Jlission.

Here in November, we built huts for the family and large corrals of logs in which to keep the horses for their safety at night. We watched them during the day. Our cattle were at large. We looked after them to prevent their straying too far. We drove them together several times each day. Several parties left their stock in our care during the winter.

As soon as the family was in its winter quarters, father and I w^ent doAvn the Columbia River and up the Willamette River for a winter's supply of flour. This was about the 20th of November. At Oregon City we bought a skiff and about 1.000 pounds of flour. A young man by the name of Scroggins and myself, started out to take the flour to the family.

Father stayed down the Willamette in Tulatin plains ail winter, looking for a place in which to locate. When we reached The DaUes, James and his wife left their stock with us. their oxen had given out, and went on and father remained with James and his wife until Spring.

Scroggins and I started with plenty of provisions for our trip, which we calculated would be about seven days. On account of stormy weather, we were seventeen days. Below Cape Horn on the Columbia River, we had to lay by in one place for two days. Cape Horn is a rocky spur of the Cascade range, two or three hundred feet high and almost perpendicular.

This was the hardest seventeen days' work I ever did. It stormed almost all the time. We had the flour in sacks of 100 pounds each and we loaded and unloaded these sacks sometimes as high as eight or ten times a day. The w'ind would stop blowing for a time and by the time we got loaded and ready to start it would begin again and we would be obliged to unload, the river was so rough we did not dare to risk becoming swamped with our heavy load. The wind blew either up stream or down stream. The family needed the flour badly, and we were anxious to get to them with it. Some days we would not go over a mile after working hard all day and then the wind would apparently abate, when we could not avail ourselves of the calm. Our supply of provisions were soon about all used up except the flour. Flour and water, without even salt, was not very good to keep up our spirits, as well as strength. We mixed the flour and water together in the top of a sack and made the dough into long strings, which we wrapped about a stick. We set the stick by the fire and baked the dough, which tasted pretty good after a hard day's work. We varied this with noodle soup made of water and flour. We were three days making the five miles of rapids and seven miles of portage. The last day on the rapids our boat took a sheer and the one on shore had to pull so hard against the current that the boat filled with water. In the face of this calamity I thought the family would starve. I was twenty years of age but in my anxiety, I cried. This was the first, last and only time I cried while crossing the plains.

We finally got the boat to a safe place and baled it out. We Avere sure the flour was ruined. We took the sacks out and let the water drain off, reloaded and proceeded on our journey.

That night we built a fire and dried the sacks and found that the flour was not much hurt. We were lucky to find two M^hite men and three Indians to help us carry our boat over the portage. Four days of travel up the river brought us to our winter home. We found all well and anxious for our return.

As I have said, father remained down the Willamette the winter of 1845, with Brother James and wife, looking for a place, and the middle of January, 1846, he and James came back to The Dalles to help build a boat to move us. There were plenty of boats then on the Willamette for emigrants who wanted to pass on down to the valley, but a very short time after we arrived at The Dalles they had all been taken off for the winter.

James was a boat builder. We selected a place close to the river to build our boat, where there was good timber. We chose two large trees for the purpose of making gunwales, the trees beilig about three feet in diameter. Then we picked out smaller trees for making the plank. We hewed out the timber the proper length and squared it. This we lined on both sides the thickness we wanted to make our planks. We chose a place on a side hill to make a saw pit. It was so arranged that one man could stand underneath the log and one man on top of it. Then the squared logs were put in place and we ripped out enough plank for a bottom and a false bottom and for the sides of the boat. We used the old whip saw which is now on exhibition in the Oregon Historical rooms at Portland.

''I started for Puget Sound from Missouri in 1845 and. after passing through the trials and incidents of an overland journey of six months, reached The Dalles Oregon, where, with the assistance of four men, I sawed timber enough to construct a boat 16 feet long and fifty feet wide. On February 1, 1846, the boat was loaded with myself among the passengers and we moved down the Columbia to the Cascades. At the Cascades I took passage in a wagon around a five mile portaQre. Our boat was the first boat ever sent over the Cascade Falls. The craft was secured and proceeded to the mouth of Sandy River. From that point my travels varied, sometimes by land and sometimes by water, up one stream and down another. Finally, in the Spring of 1848, I reached Puget Sound, after a tedious journey behind an ox team. In the three years of my travels my master always found me of service. But during forty-seven years, after 1 reached what was to be my home, I remained undisturbed and unthought of in my master's tool house on Chambers Prairie. On April 26, 1894, the flames destroyed my home and I was ruined and defaced almost beyond recognition."

We had no nails and the boat was put together entirely with wooden pins. It resembled a scow of today. Its capacity was large enough to carry fifteen head of cattle at a time in crossing a river and to store all of our wagons when they were taken apart, and all of our plunder that we had brought with us across the plains, as well as those members of the family who were not on shore driving the cattle.

When we got the boat ready and launched we loaded our effects, wagons and plunder and all the ox yokes and proceeded on down the Columbia River. When we collected the stock to make the start our cattle were in good condition. The snow rarely stayed on the ground on the southern slopes of the hills and the cattle had opportunity to do well. But not so with the horses. The Indians had managed to steal most of them during foggy weather when it was pretty hard work to guide them. We did not have more than three out of a lot of horses whose manes and tails had not been cut off. The mutilated animals looked horrible to us. There was always some "good Indian" to help me hunt the stolen horses. It appeared the Indians did not want the horses except to have a big ride on them and get their manes and tails. They made ropes out of the hair.

Our boat had long oars and when we started two mer attended to these. Brother James usually steered the boat and Father and David were ashore most of the time. We let the boat run with the current as great a distance each day as we could drive the cattle. Then we tied up and resumed our course next morning. We travelled on the north side down the river bottom until we came to Shell Rock, a place where the hills came right up to the river's edge. We could not drive over this rock, neither could we swim our cattle around it. Consequently we were obliged to ferry all our effects, and the cattle, to the north side, and travelled down that side until we came to the Cascade Falls. At this point we unloaded our wagons, put them together and loaded our plunder into them, hitched on the teams and started out to make our way to the lower end of the Falls.

Everything had been removed from the boat and the sides boarded up. Brother James and two men who were willing to take the risk, went aboard. James acted as captain and the other men stood at the oars. We had several small boats so we took her out in the river and gave her a start, heading her straight for the falls. She went over, shipping only a nominal number of gallons of water. It was in February that we made this run with the first flat bottomed boat ever to pass over these five miles of rocks and rapids.

Having gotten safely over they returned, after tying up. to help us with the teams and stock. We had to blaze a trail to go through and prospect a road. We were obliged to go back about a mile from the river and pass through an Indian graveyard. In this graveyard the dead were all buried in houses, and we had to drive carefully between them. It was an ancient burying place, for the houses were all decaying. I think it could not have been used for many, many years.

After travelling about six miles we came again to the river just below the lower falls. We re-loaded the boat and proceeded as before. The drivers took the cattle along by the river until we reached Cape Horn. Here we were obliged again to leave the river and travel out into the country and around this high promontory. AVe had to drive very slowly and it was hard work. On this trip we took a little flor.r. salt and enough bread to do us the first day out. After that we tied up the calves so that we could get milk enough to make noodle soup with milk, flour and salt. It was nearly three days before w^e reached the river again. At the mouth of Sandy River we found the scow and the folks waiting for us. Here we unloaded again and ferried our stock across to the southern side of the Columbia, at the mouth of the Sandy. From this point we drove the cattle across the country by Oregon City to Milk Creek, near Molalla, where father had .selected a place for us.

After ferrying the stock across at the mouth of the Sandy, we re-loaded the boat Avith our effects and ran down the Columbia to the Willamette and up the latter river to Oregon City. Here we sold the boat for $50. We put our plunder in the wagons and moved out to the place selected for our future homes, and set to work to build houses in which to live.

The citizens of Oregon were of the opinion that Uncle Sam was slow in extending protection to his people on the Pacific Slope, and they formed a provisional government and elected Abernathy governor. The representatives passed laAvs saying that a married man and his wife could take up 640 acres - a mile square - of land ; a young or single man, half that amount, and that this could be selected any place, so that it did not interfere with other claims. Wheat was made legal tender for small debts at one dollar a bushel.

Oregon City, being located at the Falls on the Willamette River, the Hudson Hay Company had a flour mill and a store there. Up the Willamette, the old servants of the company had settled, and taken up a great many of the choice parts for fifty or sixty miles. One prairie, called "French Prairie," was settled by Canadian French, and most of the settlers had native wives.

v.-ith which to bind their wheat. At this time the sickle and the reap hook were used. Then the cradle came into use and they learned to make bands of the wheat, oats, or other grain that was out.

After putting in one Spring crop and garden in the IMolalla. Ave built a barn. I then went to Tualatin Plains, west of Oregon City, and stopped with Brother James and family. He had married a Mrs. Seoggins, w^ho had a family of five children, three sons and two daughters. I, together with these children, went to school for one term. The oldest son was one of my best friends, and it was he who helped me to take the flour up the Columbia to mj' folks. Tualatin Plains, twenty miles from Oregon City, was settled principally by Hudson Bay men, English and Scotch. This was a fine section of the country. Plenty of wheat w^as grown here, and newcomers could get plenty of work by taking pay in wheat, at one dollar a tush el. The wheat could be taken to Oregon City and sold to the company, and taken out in trade at the store, and a receipt would be given for the remainder. This receipt could be used in trading with other parties for anything wanted, and they, in turn, could go to the store and get goods and groceries with it. There was very little money in the country, so people were obliged to use wheat and these receipts as a means of conducting business transactions. The emigrants to this country had spent mostly all their money for outfits and a great many, even then, were very poorly provided for provisions for the trip.

After school closed I stayed with my brother. James, and helped in the harvest. The barns were built of logs, two houses and a space of thirty feet between them, the roof including the three. The center was used for a threshing floor, and ten or twelve horses were used to tramp out the wheat. The farmers would furnish us horses and board and give us one bushel in ten to thresh out and fan the wheat, and. sometimes, they allowed us a team to take the wheat to market. While I was helping my brother that harvest, I did the threshing and my brother and Young Seoggins hauled in the sheaves. We threshed eighty or ninety bushels a day.

One of the oldest settlers came to my brother and wanted help. James told him I could go and wanted to know how much he would pay me per day. The old settler said he would give me three pecks of wheat a day. James told him I might remain at home and play, before I should work at that price. 1 told my brother to make a contract with him to cut and shock his wheat, and Scoggins and I would do the work as soon as we finished James' crop. He made the contract at three bushels an acre and board.

We went, and put in thirty acres for him. We put up three acres a day, and the old gentleman was highly pleased with our work. His wheat was getting very ripe and shattering out so that he proposed for us to cut and bind in the forenoon and haul in the afternoon, and he would pay just the same per day for the hauling. That was nine bushels a da3^

It was hard for him to keep help. One harvest was all that help would stay with him. Some of his help told that he recommended to them to eat the peelings off of baked potatoes. He said it was healthy and helped to fill up. I think he was correct about its being good for the health, if he followed his own advise, for he lived to be 104 years old.

The Winter of 1846 we spent in looking for a ncAv location, thinking to better ourselves. We went to the mouth of the Columbia River and looked over Clatsop Plains, then south to the Umpqua country, but Ave did not find anything to suit us.

Father said he had started for salt water, and so in the Spring of 1847, after w^e had put in the crops, we came ovei to Puget Sound to look at that portion of the country. We spent two months looking around. At Newmarket, the present site of Tumwater. at the falls of the Des Chutes River, we found INI. T. Simmons and family, and five or six other families and nine or ten young men. They had settled here in June, 1845. They were putting up a sawmill. They already had a fh)ur mill, a very small concern. The burrs were only eighteen inches in diameter and no bolting cloth was in use. Some of the families had sieves that were used to take out the coarse bran.

At the present site of Olympia there was was oidy one man, by the name of Smith. His log cabin stood on the ground where the Huggins hotel is noAV. We finally staked out claims on what is now known as "Chambers Prairie." Tlu'U Ave returned to our homes in Oregon to make preparations to move to the Puget Sound region in the Fall.

Early in the Fall of 1847, we hired two boats of Dr. MeLoiighlin, and four Kanaka boat men. We loaded our effects, wagons, ox yokes and bedding, on the boats at Oregon City. We went down the Willamette to the Columbia River, down the Columbia to the mouth of the Cowlitz and up the Cowlitz to Cowlitz Landing - thirty miles.

It was fine boating until we came to the rapids on the Cowlitz Eiver. That was hard work and slow travelling. We had to use the tow line a great deal and go from one side of the river to the other to take advantage of the eddies and shallow waters, so that we could use the long poles and push the boats up the stream. Our boats were heavily laden and for about fifteen miles we used the poles and tow line, the water being too swift to use the oars.

There w^as a great quantity of salmon in the river. We had all we wanted, and cooked it Indian fashion. This was to dress the fish, run a stick through it and place the stick in the ground close to the fire, and as the fish cooked, turn it so that it would bake evenly. We always left the scales on till it M^as cooked. After working hard all day, it was fine - we thought, delicious.

We arrived at Cowlitz Landing after twenty days of travel, the only accident on the trip being the loss of a rifle, a considerable loss in those daj^s, too. In making the trip to Cowlitz Landing, we started the hands with the stock, horses and cattle, to cross the Columbia. All were ferried over at Fort Vancouver; then they were driven down the river to Lewis River, where they were ferried over this stream, following down the Columbia to the mouth of the CoMditz. They were then driven up the Cowlitz and swam across the south fork. When they reached the Cowlitz Landing, they swam the stock to the north side of the river and waited for the boats. This landing is at the lower end of Cowlitz Prairie, which prairie was settled by the Canadian French and is a fine farming country. The Hudson Bay Company and the Catholic Mission each had fine farms there. We rented twenty acres of land from the Catholic Mission and a like number of acres from John R. Jackson, and put in a crop of winter wheat.

for our future home, and started to drive the remainder of the stock through. We drove them over Mud Mountain, or ]\Iud Hill - all the first settlers travelled this way, and we crossed the Des Chutes about two miles above Tumwater. There was an Indian trail from Bush Prairie to Chambers Prairie.

Then we went back to Saunder's Bottom and completed the wagon road around Mud Hill. This hill is east of Chehalis. There was one family living there at that time. We prospected and blazed out a road. We found trees' on the banks of a creek that suited us for making a bridge. We built the bridge and cut out the wagon road through Saunder's Bottom - a distance of three miles. The creek's source was from ilud Mountain and the banks were steep and muddy and could not be crossed without a bridge. We then came to New JMarket, one of the first settlements at Tumwater. The men of this settlement turned out and all helped to cut a wagon road to Chambers' Prairie, a distance of three and a half miles. The old settlers here were glad to see new comers and they were ready and willing to help us. What they had they were willing to share with us. They were much pleased when they learned that we had sieve wire, for they had no bolting cloth for their small grist mill. They thought it a fine thing to have sieve wire so they could take the bran out of their flour. On the prairie we built a log house of two rooms, the smaller we used for a kitchen and the larger was curtained off into bed rooms. We then went for the family and brought them over. We stayed a few days, visiting Mr. Simmons' family.

We crossed our wagons on boats, when the tide was in, below the lower falls of the Des Chutes. When the tide was out we drove our work cattle across Budd's Inlet and then drove out five miles to our future home. The fifteenth of December, 1847, we took our first dinner at our home on Chambers' Prairie.

Here our stock had plenty of grass and wintered well, so they were fat in February. We butchered a fine beef and had plent}^ of tallow to make candles. Mother had brought enough candle wicking to do several years. The candles were a great improvement on the old iron lamp in which Ave had to burn hog's lard. This lamj) was made with a short spout for the wick to lie iu and one end of the wick came out of this spout to burn. The handle at the other end of the lamp was so arranged that it came up over the center of the lamp, so as to hold the lamp level. A cotton cloth, twisted, served as a wick. Father put up a milk house, and, in March, commenced to make butter, and in April, to make cheese.

Brother Thomas and I took up claims adjoining, and we milked the cows, morning and evening, for our board. We built a log house of one room on our claim. We made it a five-cornered house, the fifth corner being for the fireplace. In ]\Iay we dug two troughs and started a tan yard, on a small scale. We used the troughs for vats, and alder and hemlock bark, for tanning purposes. We dried the bark and pounded it fine. We burned oyster and clam shell and used the lime to take the hair off the skins. We made sole leather out of beef hides, and for the upper leather we used deer and cougar hides. By the first of November \xe had our leather ready to make shoes. We brought a kit of shoemakers' tools with us and father and I made the shoes. We brought with us a number of lasts of different sizes. For sewing we put a number of strands of shoe thread together - the length we wanted - and we twisted and waxed this string, tapered the ends and put a hog bristle on each end for needles. It was a nice piece of work to put the bristles on so they would stay. This we could do to perfection. If they came off they could not be put on again.

We made our shoe pegs of maple and dog Avood, well seasoned, sawed the length and size we wanted the pegs to be. We split off' slabs the thickness to make square pegs, and shaved the slabs to make the pegs sharp at one end. We used a stick with a notch against which we held the slabs and sharpened first one side and then the other. A strip of leather with a slit in it was fastened to the shoe board. We took two or three of the sharpened slabs and held them with the left hand against the leather which served as a lever for the knife, and, with the point of the knife, held to place by running it in the slit in the leather, we split off the pegs.

The crop we put in on Cowlitz Prairie turned out Avell, and we hauled it over early in the Fall, or enough of it to plant and to keep us until we grew our first crop on Chambers' Prairie.

The Aviuters of 18-15-6 and 1846-7 Avere very mild and pleasant. We made rails to fence in land to protect our crops. We raised plenty of wheat, potatoes, peas and other vegetables. We had wheat coffee, and pea coffee, and we could always change from one to the other. Boiled wheat and milk made an extra dish for supper.

Father and mother were highly pleased with this country and they thought there was no place like it ; fat beef off the range in February, and plenty of oysters and clams for the digging. One beef would give us sixty pounds of tallow, and in those days tallow was an important item.

That same spring of 1848, we built the log barn which stood over half a century and finally had to be burned on account of its being unsafe for the stock. It was built similar to those already described, except that this barn had five apartments, two for hay and grain, one for stalls, one for wagons, and one for threshing. It was a long, narrow barn, and all under one roof. The clapboards were put on with Avrought nails from England, the sheeting was of logs, put on the right distance apart to use four-foot boards.

Thomas and I had been looking forward and calculating to return to Missouri in two years to see our girls that we had left behind us. In 1848 mother received a letter from our old home, telling about what had taken place since we left and among the news was the marriage of a certain young lady, and this had the effect of making me contented to remain on Puget Sound.

This was a sensible decision, for, during the winter of 1847, Indians broke out and massacred Dr. and ]Mrs. Whitman and many others at the Mission, near Walla Walla. The people of Oregon raised a company of Volunteers to subdue the Cayuse tribe, the only hostiles. They succeeded in bringing the leaders to justice. We, on Puget Sound, did not know about the trouble until it was all settled. The Indians here were friendly and they were glad to have the Boston.s - as they called the Americans - come. About this time gold was discovered in California, and Thomas and I got the fever to go, as Brother James was there.

I left my childhood home in company with my three brothers, my sister-in-law, two nephews, and a niece, on April 1st, 1851, to cross the continent with ox teams.

]\Iy only sister took the road leading to Louisville the same morning, having been married to Presly I\I. Hoskins one week before. I can see the wagon yet that carried her goods, as it slowly turned down a hill that we used to travel so much to school and church together. Oh, how sorrowful a daj^ that was ! We crossed the Wabash Kiver at Terre Haute, about 25 miles from our home in Sullivan County, Indiana, travelling across Illinois to Missouri, landing at St. Joe on the JMissouri River on the 9th day of ]May. Here we stayed a few days to rest our jaded teams. The roads were frightful, the poor oxen would almost mire down in many j)laces.

When w^e crossed the river into the Indian Territory, I felt as if we had left all civilization behind us. IMy sisterin-law was sick, my niece much younger than I, consequently all the cooking and planning fell on my shoulders. None but those who have cooked for a family of eight, crossing the plains, can have any idea of the amount of food consumed.

There isn't much fun cooking with sage brush almost as dry as straw. Sometimes the cakes - flapjacks - were black with the ashes blown over them. To throw them away and bake others was out of the question, for the next lot would have been the same, besides we had to be very saving of provisions. When we were all well we had jolly times, but my sister-in-law was sick almost all the time, which was a great source of anxiety to us. At times we almost despaired of her life.

I used to think, when travelling over those rocky roads, often seeing the skulls and bones of fellowmen bleaching in the hot sun, so far from home and loved ones, that if we were spared to reach a land of civilization, I could see my dearest loved ones laid away with a tear. Oh. the thought of leaving a loved one so far away was perfectly agonizing.

quilts had been dug out by the wild animals and the bones laid bare before the gaze of the pitiless sun. We saw some graves that had been made secure by heavy stones that had been placed upon them so that the wild beasts could not roll them off. We had one funeral in our train, a little boy. and how sad it was to drive aAvay and leave the new-made grave !

One of our sorrows was the loss of our faithful dog. which had accompanied us from home. The poor beast perished when we were crossing the desert. My sister-in-law Avas very ill - we did not know that she would live through the day. We had hauled water enough to last for two days, but had to use it very sparingly. I remembered, after we missed the dog, of seeing him coming along behind the wagon with his tongue hanging out of his mouth. Poor fellow, if he had been taken in and given a little water he would have been saved. Except for the sickness in our family, we had an excellent trip, compared with some. We had no troul)le with Indians - only some scares. One night the guards came in and reported the Indians had frightened all the stock and they had run off. Of course, Ave prepared to defend ourselves as best we could. The wagons were put around to form a circle, the tongue of one wagon resting on the back of another. Then the women and children were put into as fcAV wagons as possible and one man sat in front of each wagon with his gun ready to shoot if an Indian put in an appearance. We were greatly rejoiced when morning came and no sight of an Indian anywhere.

Sometimes we would lay by all day to give the oxen a little rest when the weather was so warm. Then we would start out just at night-fall and travel all night. In this way I missed tlie sight of Court House Rock, although we had seen it in the distance for several days, rearing up like an immense old building. Chimney Rock, too, was quite a curiosity. We could see it for days and it looked so close at hand that three or four days before Ave reached it some of the company started to go to it but came into camp in the evening, tired out Avith Avallving a Avhole afternoon carrying their guns. The shape of the rock was very much like a chimney standing alone, AA-ay out on the plains with no other rock near it.

The Devil's Gate is a Cjueer freak of nature and quite a curiosity. There is just room for a wagon road between the high rocks on either side.

We passed what was then called Steamboat Springs. The water was thrown up into the air several feet high. Then there were the hot springs, some beautiful waterfalls and many, many other strange and beautiful things that I do not recall at this late day.

The most unpleasant part of the journey was through the alkali district. It was white as far as you could see. In some places a thick crust or scum was on the top of the earth. Our hands and lips were sore from the alkali in the air. We would be so covered with dust as we travelled along that at night-fall we could not tell our nearest neighbor, as all looked alike.

Cows, as a general rule, stood the trip much better than oxen. We brought one yoke of young cow^s that we milked at the home place, and more faithful creatures I never saw. They worked every day until August. Coming through the Blue Mountains, one of the poor creatures gave out, laid down and refused to get up, so we had to leave her and travel on. Our hearts were sad when we took a last look at one so faithful. We learned afterwards that a party coming along after us found her quite refreshened after her rest and brought her on through with them, which we were very glad to know. These two cows gave us plenty of milk until we reached the alkali country, when the feed was so poor that they had no milk for us.

Besides losing our cow in the Blue JNIountains, we had another remarkable event - the birth of a son to Mr. and Mrs. Ross. (They and their son now reside in the Puyallup valley.) We laid by for half a day and then travelled on as if nothing had happened. Mrs. Ross and the child got along nicely.

The next event of importance was the crossing of the Rock}' Mountains. It was a tiresome, tedious journey, and our cattle, after travelling so far, were very much fatigued. For days it was up, up all the time and the road was often very winding. The five girls that were in our train would some- times take what we called a "cutoff" and come out on the road a long distance ahead of the wagon. These five girls were Elizabeth White, now Mrs. D. R. Bigelow of Olympia; Jerusha White, now Mrs. A. W. Stewart of Puyallnp ; Millie Stewart, now ]\Irs. Dr. Spinning of Piiyalhip ; Margaret White, now ^Irs. Andrew Chambers of Olympia. and INIrs. Durgan of Olympia, whose maiden name I have forgotten.

One day, as we could see the road quite a distance off, we set out on one of our trips, which proved to be much longer than we had any idea of. We were climbing hills, tramping over rocks, through deep ravines and scattering timber, all the nflernoon.

About as blue a time as we had was when our cattle were poisoned - every one lying down and groaning like sick people. Luckily for us, my brother had taken along a much greater amount of bacon than was needed, so Ave had enough fat meat to let the entire company have some. The men sat up all night and cut the meat into such sized pieces as they could put down the throats of the animals. Consequently, our teams were saved and we were able to resume our journey the next afternoon.

The trials and troubles of such a journey can never be realized. I think if the people had realized the dangers and I)rivations attendant upon such a trip they would never have undertaken it.

I shall never forget the first herd of buffalo I saw. Such a number of them - perhaps a hundred. We often saw smaller herds travelling towards water. The first meat was a great treat, we had been so many months without fresh meat. The boys in our company killed three in one daj^ and we laid by a day and a half and dried some. We made a scaffold of sticks and hung the strips of meat on the sticks, then built a fire under the meat.

After this, when we wished to have a change from the dried meat, we would put grease in the pan and fry the meat slightly. I can tell you it tasted good after having lived for months on salted meat.

How I regret not having pressed and keeping some of the beauties, bnt that is a little thing to regret doing, compared with the many things we look back and see as we journey on through life. So much occurs to us that we wish we had done.

Glad, indeed, was I when we reached The Dalles, on the Columbia River, for I knew we were nearing our journey's end and nearing civilization once more, where we could have the privilege of church and schools.

While getting supper that night I suffered a burn, the scars of which I will carry to my grave. As it was very sandy here, and high winds prevailing, we dug a trench to build our fire in. As I was putting something over the fire to cook, the sand gave way under my foot and I came down with my hand in the hot sand and ashes, burning it to a crisp. I could act the lady for several weeks after that.

On the morning of September 16, we took passage on a little steamer that plied between The Dalles and the Cascades. It had just been built and this was its first trip.

We remained over night at the Cascades, and there my brother purchased a flat boat and we loaded into it and started for the mouth of Sandy River, quite a distance from the Cascades. My two brothers, with two nephews and the rest of the men, drove the cattle down the trail along the Columbia, and a hard old time they had of it, too.

AVhen we reached Sandy we found quite a nice farm house and a good garden of vegetables, which looked inviting after our six months' diet of dried beans, rice, bacon, dried apples and peaches. Although we had so much to be thankful for, as we had an ample supply, and some to spare, which was more than some could say. Some were very scarce of provisions, but none were in want in our train.

Here (at Sandy) we camped on the banks of the Columbia, while my brothers took a contract for building a ferry boat for the man who lived there - a man named Parker.

The boat being finished, we ferried across the Columbia and found a very nice settlement on the river bottom after crossing over. My brother and his wife stopped here to take care of the stock, as there was an abundance of good pasturage to be had very reasonably. My other brothers and two nephews, my niece and myself went to a little town between Portland and Oregon City - Milwaukee. There we rented a house and went to school for the winter.

We soon made some pleasant acquaintances, as all were 2iewcomers and it was a small town. We attended singing school and some few dancing parties, only to look on. I had never seen nor heard a violin before, nor seen any dancing. ]\Iy people were all verj^ strict Presbyterians and we were never allowed to indulge in such amusements.

In September of the same year my brothers decided to come to Puget Sound to see if they liked the country better, as we were not favorably impressed with Oregon. As they were pleased, they returned for us and we all came to this part of the country - Chambers' Prairie, Thurston County, in October, 1852.

We spent the winter at the eastern extremity of the prairie, on the place where the Avidow Collins now lives, but which was owned by ]\Ir. Nathan Eaton at that time. ]\Iy brothers did the first fencing he had done on the prairie. Tliey put in grain on shares and looked around for claims. My two brothers and a nephew took donation claims adjoining each other.

The latter part of the winter of 1853 my brothers split and sawed all the lumber for their houses, as saw mills were unknown in this section in those days. We had puncheon floors. For fear you will not know what that is. I will tell you. It is a floor laid with split logs, the flat side being uppermost. The logs were of cedar and the floor was nice and white when scrubbed with sand and cold water. We girls used to be very proud of our white floors. I think it was in April, 1853, that we moved into our new home. We girls were the housekeepers for my brothers and nephews. ]\Iy married brother lived a mile from us, on the place where ]\Ir. Stralehm now lives.

That summer was a very dreary one for us, as we had never been where there were forest fires before. We feared that the fire might come on us at any time as the grass on the prairie was very thick and dry. For days the sun hung like a ball of fire in the heavens. When the rain eanie and cleared the smoke away all was again pleasant and we soon forgot our disagreeable times.

Our housekeeping for my brothers was of short duration, as my neiee decided to become somebody's else housekeeper. On the morning of September 22, 1853, she was married to A. W. Stewart, a young man who had crossed the plains with us.

On the 18th of that month I was married to Andrew J. Chambers, and came to reside in this house. We have spent our lives here since then, and, by the laws of Nature, we haven't many more years to live, but hope we shall live them here, where we have seen our greatest joys and sorrows. I must say that I had never known what true happiness was until I was married, as I had never known the love of father or mother. I found great happiness in a loving, affectionate husband. I only hope that all my daughters may be as happy in marriage as their mother. We have raised . a large family of girls (that we are more than proud of) ten in number, seven of whom are still living to cheer our declining days.

The Indian war of 1855-56 was a trying time for the new settlers. About this time I had a bad scare. Although the Indians east of the mountains were on the war path and we heard all kinds of rumors of their intention to take our section of the country, the Sound Indians were apparently friendly. An Indian lad w^ho had worked for us told us we were in danger, but we paid little attention to him, although I was frightened and uneasy.

A brother of my husband's lived a mile from us, on the place his father had settled in 1848. This brother and a young man who lived with him were sitting out in front of their cabin, in the twilight, one evening within hearing of the Indian camp. As thej^ understood the Indian language and heard their names mentioned, they listened and heard an old Indian say. as he passed his finger over the sharp edge of a knife he had bought from John Chambers: "Little did John think he was selling me the knife to kill him with." Then they talked and planned how they could execute their bloody work, aud about this time the boys made tracks for our house, so seared that they even left their guns. How well I remember that night! WLen we heard the gate open and shut, Mr. Chambers sprang out of bed and grasped his gun. I tell you, those boys made tracks when they heard him, for they knew he had his revolvers and gun ready. As soon as they could speak they called to him, and I can tell you we Vvere relieved when we heard who it .was. Oh, how I shook! Just like one vrith the ague.

Early the next morning the boys returned to their home to see how things looked. The old Indian was as fine as he could be, and wanted to be very gracious. He had told John Chambers some time before that he had come to camp by him and was going to live and die by him. The old hypocrite ! When he saw the boys he asked them where they slept. They replied: "In bed." "Not here," he said. Then they asked him how he knew. He said they were in the house for some medicine for a sick child, which was another story.

Very soon we heard of men being waylaid and shot, and the country was all excitement. Shortly the people began to gather into forts to protect themselves. The fort for this part of the country was on our place and is still in use as a barn. There were block houses on each corner. At one time there were thirty-two families in this fort. There were any number of children and dogs, and, consequently, any amount of music, especially of evenings. "We had many startling events, of which I well remember one. My husband was lieutenant of the company of volunteers within the fort, so he was ordered by the captain of the company to take a number of men and make a scout through the neighborhood and see if there were any Indians prowling around. They mounted their horses about five o'clock one afternoon and rode away toward Yelm Prairie. Shortly afterwards the command was given for every man to get his gun and stand in readiness, as.thelndiflns might attack the fort at any moment, as they had undoubtedly attacked the men who had gone on- the scouting expedition, for

That was a long night. Not a wink of sleep for me. Morning came, but no signs of Indians. The men were out two days and never saw nor heard an Indian. How rejoiced I was when I saw my good husband again !

There was one man in the company who used to give us a scare by firing his gun while on guard. The orders were not a gun was to be shot unless at an Indian. Knowing this, imagine yourself, sitting by the fire, with everything quiet, and then hear one shot after another! The old man always said he saw Indians.

"I wish ]Mr. Ott were here to tell yon about the exciting experiences he went through in early days," said Mrs. Jacob Ott, when interviewed and asked to tell the story of her life in Olympia. "I never knew any hardships, and, although the life in America was new and strange to me, upon my arrival from my girlhood home in Switzerland, I was always comfortable. All dangers from Indian outrages was over and civilization was quite well advanced.

"But when Mr. Ott came to America in 1850, he found the country- ver^y different from what he had been accustomed to. He was also born in Switzerland and it was there that he learned his trade of carpenter. When quite a young man he came to this country, stopping first in St. Louis. Later he joined a train of emigrants bound for the Golden West. All places were alike to the young man, adventure, and perhaps a chance to gather some of the gold he heard so much about, was what he was looking for. The trip was made in the regulation way - ox teams - to Portland. Oregon. After six months in that settlement, Mr. Ott heard so much talk of the opportunities to be found on Puget Sound, that he determined to try his luck there. Tumwater was the only place of any importance then, so he came, arriving here in 1852. From Monticello Landing, Mr. Ott made the trip to Tumwater on horseback. The prospects of this section of the Northwest looked good to him, so he decided to stay here.

"Among the first things Mr. Ott did was to ])uy a number of lots of timber land in the town and begin clearing them oft'. The lots were very heavily Avooded, and almost the first thing that happened to the young man was an incident that at the time frightened him into a cold perspiration. One morning he had laid his ax at the root of a tall fir and had it chopped part way through, so the miglity trunk began to bend towards the ground, when there dropped at the feet of the yjiing woodsman a small Indian bahy, which had apparently only been dead a short time. Mr. Ott was simply paralyzed with fear and for a while thought the child must have been thrown at him by some unseen Indians as a menace of some sort. But after a while it occurred to him to examine the top branches of the tree, and there he discovered the rude cradle in which the papoose had been put to sleep his last sleep. A further search disclosed three other Indians reposing in the tree tops and then it dawuaed on him that he had intruded on an Indian 'burying' ground, if I may call it that. The experience was an unusual one to a young man fresh to the manners and customs of the wilderness. He always looked carefully in the branches of a tree before beginning cutting after that.

"Before Mr. Ott had lived in the West very long, he took up a claim, five miles out from Tumwater, and built a little shack on the land, living there alone while he cleared and got the place ready for planting.

"He didn't spend much time or labor on the house and used shakes he cut himself, in the construction. So flimsy was the structure that many a night he stood guard all night long, with an ax in his hands, to protect himself and provisions from the cougars, which whined and growled at the rude door and threatened to break in at any moment. The wild animals smelled the meat which Mr. Ott would have in his shack and were determined to have their share. This lasted till he could take time to build a more secure house.

"Mr. Ott served his six months in the Indian war, as did most of the men living here in the days of the trouble with th-,' Indians. Plis special work was teaming for the government, hauling supplies to the forts and wherever troops were stationed. As the rascals were anxious for the provisions and blankets, with which the wagons were loaded, this was considered to be especially dangerous, and ]Mr. Ott used to tell me about sleeping at nights holding the lariat ropes of his cattle all night long to prevent a stampede.

"One night, I remember my husband telling me about, the Indians were all around the teams and an ambush was feared at any moment. There were five or six teamsters in the train and their wagons were loaded with what would have been a rich haul for the Indians. Night ^^as coming on and the men were worried at the prospects of camping there, being almost sure they would be attacked before morning. A halt was called to discuss the situation when there was seen coming towards them, the most wrinkled old squaw the eye of man had ever beheld. She must have passed the centurymark in years, so old and feeble did she appear. Holding up her hand in sign of peace, she came up to the men. and in Chinook, told them not to go that way that night for they would surely be killed if they did, but instead to camp for the night under a certain tree which stood all by itself on a cleared place a little way off.

"The men didn't know anything better to do, although they were afraid of treachery on the part of the squaw. Bui after a consultation, they decided to take the warning antl camp where the squaw directed them to do.

"Sure enough, the tree was found just as had been described and when the teams reached the spot, the wagons were corraled and the men prepared to spend the night. They were not molested, and in the morning proceeded on their way in peace. The mystery of the squaw's protection was never explained, nor why they were not attacked during the night. Mr. Ott often wondered if there was not some sort of an Indian superstition about the tree which safeguarded anyone who sought shelter beneath its branches.

"After a number of years, I\Ir. Ott prospered so well that he began to think he Avould like to see his boyhood home and friends again, so he went back to Switzerland on a visit. While there he met me, then quite a young girl, and induced me to come to America with him. We were passengers on the second train that ever started to cross the continent.

"When I arrived here I couldn't tell 'yes' from 'no' in English, and I thought I never would be able to make myself understood. I could have learned Chinook quicker than I did English, only I was so afraid of the Indians. ]\Ir. Ott was a favorite with them and when we got here they came in dusky swarms, crowding right up to the door of the house to see Jake's wife. I nearly died, I was so frightened of them.

was born I thought if anything shonld happen to that baby I'd just end it all by jumping into the bay. But he kept me from moping around much, for he was the greatest care for a long time. The poor little thing was so tiny that for the first six weeks we kept him in a ten-pound tea box, wrapped in cotton. He was too small to dress and when he was big enough to handle, I had to make him a complete new wardrobe, for everything I had made before he was born was too large for him.

"When we finally decided to move from Tumwater and came to Olympia, Mr. Ott built this house, where we have lived ever since. Every stick in the house was put here by Mr. Ott's own hands.

"Fifteen years ago, in August, 1899, my husband died in this house, after an illness of only a few moments, so fulfilling the desire of his later years that when Death called him he would go quick.

"We have had three children, Henry, born February 18, 1870; Walter, born in Baker, Oregon, March 20, 1872; Gertrude, born at Globe, Arizona, February 28, 1875."

Pioneer Reminiscences 177 Dr. Alonzo Gerry Cook

While not a Thurston County pioneer within the strictest meaning of the term, Dr. Alonzo Gerry Cook has spent so many summers with his daughter, Mrs. Millard Lemon, on Puget Sound, and during his younger manhood so frequently visited the Territorial capital in pursuit of official duty, that a history of this section would be incomplete without some mention of this grand old man and his devoted wife.

Born in Portland, ]\Iaine, on ^lay 13, 1839, the j'oung Alonzo spent his infant years at this place, accompanj'ing his parents to Illinois, settling about sixty miles from Chicago. Here he grew to young manhood, and after graduating from a law school, was admitted to practice law. In 1861 Mr. Cook met and married Miss Isabella Webster. Dr. Cook's tribute to the devotion of his wife was beautiful. He said: "My wife, born in London, England, came to America in a sailing vessel before steam was commonly used. The ocean trip consumed six weeks, then through the Erie Canal to Buffalo, and then through Lake Erie to Ohio. Later, after our marriage, to Washington, then to Long Beach and Los Angeles - cows, mules and stage being the means of conversance for the three times this noble woman has accompanied me across the plains. In later years we have taken the trip several times with all the luxury and conveniences furnished by the Pullman Company, but Mrs. Cook was as cheerful and uncomplaining during those days of hardship and trial as she was when we traveled in comfort."

In the Spring of 1862, Mr. Cook and his girl bride started to cross the plains with a team of four cows. After the usual hardships attendant on the emigrant trip, the j^oung couple finally reached The Dalles. Two of their cows succumbed to the rigors of the trip and the wagon was hauled the last stHges of the journey by the two remaining animals. Dr. Cook tt'lls as characteristic the way these pioneer emigrants had to manage, how the Snake Kiver was crossed in those days long before man had set a pier or placed a stick in the building of bridges across any of the western streams. "We took off the wagon bed, when we came to Snake River, unloaded our plunder and my wife spared a garment and I spared another, to tear into strips. With these we caulked the wagon box the best we could and put it in shallow water to soak over night. In the morning, partly loading our equipment in the box, we started to paddle over. I steered and rowed the extemporized craft the best I could, but the water rushed in in spite of our caulking, so my wife bailed for dear life till we landed on the far shore. Then we had to return, and make the trip several times, for we did not dare to put much of our plunder in at one time. The cows then swam across the river, we reloaded and proceeded on our way, nothing daunted and hardly considering that we had done anything remarkable, as that was the only way of crossing large streams in those days.

"When The Dalles was reached, we sold our remaining cows for barely money enough to take us to Portland. This city was then only a village of one street and few business houses. We stayed the first night at the old Portland Hotels a small wooden building. The next morning I went out on the streets to look for a job. We were broke and I needed a job the worst way. Almost the first man I met was a farmer from Yamhill County, named Griner. He was road master in his section and wanted a man to work on the road. He told me he could give me and my wife house room while I was working for him. I gladly accepted and soon was armed with a pick and shovel. Mr. Griner was in doubt as to some of his legal privileges in his work and asked my advice. I told him I did not know what the local custom was but so and so was the law on the case. He was surprised at my legal knowledge and asked me about it. I told him I had the theory but had never yet practised law. Mr. Griner told me to drop the pick and shovel and take my wife and go to Lafayette, Oregon. He wanted to send his young lady daughter to school and wanted to board her with a cultured family, and assured us he would see that we had enough to eat during the winter. This was the end of our very hard times. While we were in Lafayette, our only child, Marabell, was born."

section of the Northwest that is now Idaho. He went to Boise City alone, but sent for ]\Irs. Cook and the baby within a short time. They remained in Boise City a couple of years and then Mr. Cook was sent to the Eastern States for the purpose of securing a charter for the First National Bank of that city. Chris Moore was the bank president. Ilis wife accompanied him on this trip, which was made by stage.

Upon Mr. Cook's return to the West he settled in Vancouver, where he became a partner in a law office with the Hon. H. G. Struve. Struve afterwards was made District Attorney over a group of ten counties, of which Thurston was one. "When Struve 's term expired, Mr. Cook was elected to succeed his former law partner.

During the two years of this service, Mr. Cook made frequent trips to attend the Supreme Court in Olympia and became very well acquainted v»^ith the best people of the Capitol City. He can remember when Tacoma was only a dream of the future, one settler, Job Carr, being the entire population of the City of Destiny.

About this time Mr. Cook's health began to fail him, and in looking over some medical books to investigate his ailments he became interested in medicine and decided to study that profession. He took a course in the Cooper Medical College in San Francisco. Then he went to Chicago where he became a graduate of the Hahnemann Homeopathic College.

During the year of 1872 Dr. and Mrs. Cook and their young daughter went to California to make their home. They were accompanied on this trip by William Lemon and family to Los Angeles. Dr. Cook practised medicine in this city and Oakland for many years.

Although the doctor has now retired from active practise he has by no means retired from active life for when the compiler of these reminiscences called upon him at the home of his son-in-law, Millard Lemon, he told about having spent the greater part of the day pruning a pear tree 50 feet high in its top boughs.

Dr. and Mrs. Cook claim Long Beach, California, for their home, but every summer the lure of Puget Sound calls them and they come up and spend the hot months visiting at the home of their only daughter, Mrs. Millard Lemon.

William D. King

The history of William D. King as related by his son, Charles D. King, is but a repetition of the sturdy expression of the spirit of adventure which led so many from comfortable homes in the Eastern States, to undergo the hardships and privations of a frontier life.

In 1852, William King left his young wife, Caroline, in their Michigan home, and crossed the plains with the customary ox teams. Arriving in this section, the summer was spent at Grand Mound Prairie, looking for a place of permanent location.

In the spring of 1858, Mr. King decided to take up a donation claim in Cowlitz County, and selected a site just above the town of Kelso on the Cowlitz River. For a couple of years Mr. King worked on his claim, subduing the wilderness and building up a home for his young wife.

Finally, in 1855, Mrs. King was sent for, to join her husband, and made the trip to Washington by way of Panama, being among the first passengers to travel on the railroad which had recently been built across the Isthmus. The Kings continued to occupy their farm on the Cowlitz until the year 1863, and during this time, in 1859, their son, Charles D., was born.

During the time of the Indian war troubles, in 1855-56, Mr. and Mrs. King and son were obliged to take refuge in the block house on the Cowlitz. It was during their sojourn in this place of refuge that their second sou, the late H. S. King, was born.

Neighbors of the King family in the fort were the Ostrander and the Catlin families, whose names are among the best known of the pioneers of that section.

to Clackamas Coimty, Oregon, afterwards settling in Umatilla County, where they lived until the time of Mr. King's death. This latter event occurred while he was on a trip to INIiehigan, where he had taken his younger son to place him in school. and was caused by a railroad wreck.

The son, Charles, then wandered forth in the world on his own responsibility, leading the checkered career of a young man striving to educate himself, and at the same time earn his li\'ing on the frontier. The lad drifted to California, then to Winnemucca, Nevada, then on into Idaho, finally settling for several years at Weiser City, in that Territory.

It was at Winnemucca that he was admitted to practise law, and here, too, he was living at the time of the Bannock and Nez Perce Indian wars. Mr. King was one of the guard stationed outside that frontier town to give warning to the citizens of the approach of the Indians who were ravaging the country in Idaho and Nevada, terrorizing the settlers, and freighters, and even the inhabitants of the smaller towns, who feared an attack. The tribes at one time joined forces and numbered 2,000 warriors.

The younger King, before practising law, for a time, led a wild life as a cowboy on the Idaho ranges, and during this time was participant in many exciting adventures.

William Lemon

William Lemon and his wife were among the pioneers of the Cowlitz River settlement, and later of Cowlitz Prairie, and their experiences in this section were such as to try men's souls, until land was cleared and cultivated and neighbors began to arrive.

The subject of this sketch, William Lemon, was born in Orange County, New York, his parents later going to IMichigan, then to Illinois, and still later out to Iowa, where they lived for several years. Here William became a man and was finally married to a blithe Irish lass.

The 3"oung couple, with their one child, caught the emigration fever and decided to cast their fortunes with other emigrants and go to Oregon, so in 1852 the trip was made with ox teams.

When The Dalles was reached, late in the fall, Mr. Lemon decided to leave his considerable number of cattle there to winter, and go on down to Portland. Here he expected to find work at his trade of carpenter.

However, before the little family reached this point, an important event happened. Their second child was born. His birth place was beside the Snake River in what is now Idaho, but was then comprised within the Oregon boundary. His cradle was a box in the wagon bed, his lullaby the rustle of the wind through the sage brush and grease wood. His mother told, to the time of her last illness, how the little fellow cried day and night, after he was taken into the house, for the rocking of the wagon> That child is now Millard Lemon of Olympia.

When spring came, Mr. Lemon went back to The Dalles to round up his cattle. The winter had been a hard one, and in common with many other emigrants, who had hoped their cattle would winter without other feed than what the animals could pick up on the ranges, Mr. Lemon lost every one of his cattle except one ox. OAving to the hardness of the winter and unexpected rush of emigration during the year of 1852-3, the crop of potatoes produced by the few farmers around Portland was soon used up and the prices for this vegetable soared to the sky. The elder Lemon thought there must be a fortune in potatoes, judging from the price he was obliged to pay. So when spring came, he took his family and went on up to the Cowlitz country, took up a piece of land, and put it all in potatoes. As everyone else in the country had been possessed with the same inspiration, there was almost no giving this humble vegetable away, and prices scarcely paid for the digging.