CHAPTER V.

A CHEHALIS LETTER, PENNED IN '52.

Mound Prairie, Chehalis River, near Mr. Ford's Tavern, Lewis County, Oregon Territory. 14 Nov. 1852.

My dear Elizabeth:

I believe this is the first letter I have addressed to you since we removed from Wisconsin, and I feel truly thankful to say that through the infinite mercy of God both my family and self have been in the enjoyment of excellent, uninterrupted health.

The last letter we received from Wisconsin was from my brother Thomas, complaining of our long silence. We found, too, that Mr. James' long letter, containing an account of our route--arrival in Oregon--our having made a claim on the Clackamas, with description of it--and all our progress up to February last, had been received. So here begins the next chapter. About the middle of March we removed into our new log house; here we found everything necessary to make a homestead comfortable and even delightful--a beautiful building spot on a pleasant knoll of considerable extent--a clear brook running along within a few yards of our door; and surrounded by the grandest mountain scenery--and more than that, decidedly healthy. Within walking distance of Oregon City and Milwaukee, and eight miles from Portland. With all these advantages the boys could not reconcile themselves to it on account of the great lack of grass which prevails for twenty miles 'round.

Brush of all description, Hazel, Raspberry, Salal, Rose, Willow and Fern grow to a most gigantic size. And in February what appeared to us and others--a kind of grass--sprang up quickly over the ground and mountain side; nor was it 'till May, when it blossomed out, that we discovered what we hoped would be nourishment for our cattle, was nothing more than the grass Iris, and fully accounted for the straying of our cattle and the constant hunt that was kept up by our neighbors and selves after cattle and horses.

In fact we soon found that this was no place for cattle until it had been subdued and got into cultivation. To make the matter worse we were every now and then in the receipt of messages and accounts from our friends and acquaintances who were located, some in Umpqua, some in the Willamette Valley, some at Puget Sound. Those from Umpqua sent us word that there was grass enough all winter, on one claim for a thousand head of cattle. Mr. Lucas in the Callipooiah Mountains at the head of the Willamette, sent us pressing invitations to come up and settle by him, where he had grass as high as his knees in February. In the Willamette the first rate places were all taken up. Samuel and Billy joined in begging their father to make a tour north or south to see some of these desirable places. Finally he was induced, though rather reluctantly (so well he liked our pleasant home and so confident was he of raising grass and grain) to visit one or the other after harvest. We finished our harvest in July and in August Mr. J., accompanied by Billy, set off on a journey of exploration to the north. The land route lay along the north bank of the Columbia for sixty miles to the mouth of the Cowlitz, then thirty miles up that river over Indian trails, all but impassable. This brought them into the beautiful prairies of Puget Sound, sixty or seventy miles through which brought them to that branch of the Pacific. They returned after an absence of between three and four weeks. So well were Mr. James and Billy pleased with the country that they made no delay on their return in selling out their improvements which they had an opportunity of doing immediately. We had milked but two cows during the summer, but even with the poor feed we had, I had kept the family in butter and sold $20 worth, but then I had fifty cents and five shillings per pound. As to my poultry, I obtained with some difficulty the favor of a pullet and a rooster for $2.00. In March I added another hen to my stock, and so rapidly did they increase, that in September I had, small and big, eighty. After keeping six pullets and a rooster for myself, I made $25.00 off the rest, so you may judge by a little what much will do in Oregon.

Well, it is time for me to take you on board the Batteaux, as I wish you all had been on the 16th of September, when we set sail down the Willamette from Milwaukee. After two days we entered the Columbia, one of the noblest of rivers. After three days, with a head wind all the time, we entered the mouth of the Cowlitz, a beautiful stream, but so swift that none but Indians can navigate it. We had to hire five Indians for $50.00 to take us up. Four days brought us to what is called the upper landing of the Cowlitz. Here ended our river travel--by far the most pleasant journey I ever made. There we met Samuel and Billy who with Tom had taken the cattle by the trail. We halted at a Mr. Jackson's, where we stopped for a fortnight, while Mr. J. and the boys journeyed away in search of adventures and a claim.

On the banks of the Chehalis, 30 miles north of where we stopped and 30 miles south of the Sound, they found a claim satisfactory in every respect to all parties, and what was not a little, we found a cabin a great deal better than the one we found last winter.

The Indians told us that _tennes_ (white) Jack, who _momicked_ (worked) it had _clatawawed_ (traveled or went) to California in quest of _chicamun_ (metal) and had never _chacooed_ (come back), so we entered on _tennes_ Jack's labours. As a farm and location, this certainly exceeds our most sanguine expectations. I often thought last year that we had bettered our conditions from what they were in Wisconsin, and now I think we have improved ours ten times beyond what we then were.

Our claim is along the banks of the Chehalis, a navigable river which empties into the Pacific at Grays Harbor, about 70 miles below us. A settlement is just commenced at the mouth of the river and a sawmill is erected 10 miles below us, or rather is building. These are all the settlements on the river below us, and our nearest neighbor above us is 6 miles up. A prairie of 10 miles long and varying in width from 2 to 4 miles stretched away to the north of us, watered with a beautiful stream of water and covered with grass at this time as green as in May.

A stream of water flows within a few yards of our house, so full of salmon that Tom and Johnny could with ease catch a barrel in an hour; they are from 20 to 30 lbs. in a fish. Besides which we have a small fish here very much resembling a pilchard.

We are blessed with the most beautiful springs of water, one of which will be enclosed in our door yard. As far as I can learn there are in the thickest settled parts of this portion of Oregon, about one family in a township--many towns are not so thickly settled. We are the only inhabitants of this great prairie except a few Indians who have a fishing station about a mile from us. These are on very friendly terms with us, supplying us with venison, wild fowl and mats at a very reasonable price, as we are the only customers and we in return letting them have what _sappalille_ (flour) and molasses we can at a reasonable price, which they are always willing to pay. Soap is another article I am glad to see in request among them. And it affords them no little amusement to look at the plates of the Encyclopedia. But I fear it will be long before they will be brought to _momick_ the _illahe_ (earth). They are the finest and stoutest set of Indians we have seen.

We converse with them by means of a jargon composed of English, French and Chinook, and which the Indians speak fluently, and we are getting to _waw-waw_ (speak) pretty well. My children, I am thankful to say, look better than I ever saw them in America; they have not had the least symptoms of any of the diseases that they were so much afflicted with in Wisconsin. And now, my dear Elizabeth, if wishing would bring you here, you should soon be here in what appears to me to be one of the most delightful portions of the globe. But then, ever since I have been in America I have regarded a mild climate as a "pearl of great price" in temporal things and felt willing to pay for it accordingly and I have not had the least reason to think I have valued it too high. Many and many a year has passed since I have enjoyed life as I have since I have been in Oregon.

I should have told you that the Chehalis is one of the most beautiful rivers in Oregon. Our claim stretches a mile along the north bank of it. It flows through quite an elevated part of the country. Our house, though within a few rods of the river, has one of the finest views in Oregon, the prairie stretching away to the north like a fine lawn, skirted on each side by oak and maple, at this time in all the brilliant hues of Autumn; behind, on gently rising hills, forests of fir and cedar of most gigantic height and size; farther still to the northeast rises the ever snow-clad mountains of Rainier and St. Helens, on the opposite side to the southwest of the coast range, so near that we can see the trees on them. So magnificent are those immense snow mountains that none but those who have seen them can form any idea of it.

This prairie takes its name from a remarkable mound about a mile from our house; it stands in about 25 acres and is 100 feet high, with a pure spring half way up. The rest of the prairie is almost level without a spring except in the margin. The soil of the mound, as well as some of the margin, has just enough clay to make it a rich and excellent soil; the rest of the prairie is deficient in clay; it has a rich black mould overlaying two feet deep, resting on substratum of sand and gravel, which in some places is so mixed with the soil as to give it the name of a gravelly prairie. You might have the choice of fifty such prairies as this and some better on this river. Farmers were never better paid in the world, even my little dairy of two cows has for the month past turned me in, at least I have sold butter to the amount of two and a half bushels of wheat a day at Wisconsin prices of 30 cents, and have by me 26 pounds for which I shall have at least 60 cents or $1.00 per pound. I now milk three cows; we have four; and Mr. James means to add two more and a few sheep. Mr. J. sold the worst yoke of cattle he had for $160.00. Cows are worth from $50.00 to $100.00; sheep are from $5.00 to $9.00; chickens, 60 cents to $1.00 each; eggs, 50 cents per dozen; dry goods and groceries just the same as in the states; wheat $3.00 per bushel. We left our wheat on the Clackamas to be threshed. They, Samuel and Billy, are now preparing to put in ten acres of fall wheat, potatoes are $2.00 per bushel. Indians easy to hire, both men and women, at reasonable wages. Extensive coal mines of excellent quality have been discovered within 15 miles of this place. But all these things are secondary in my estimation compared with the climate, which is allowed by all English to be superior to their native clime.

It makes me very sad to think how we are separated as a family, never to meet again (at least in all probability) under one roof. O, that we may all meet at least at the right hand of God, let this be our sole concern and our path will be made plain in temporals.

You have the advantage of us in schools, churches and society, but I feel quite patient to wait the arrival of those blessings in addition to those we enjoy. This letter will be accompanied by a paper to Mr. McNaves, "_The Columbian_," published at Olympia, Puget Sound. Mr. James has just written an article for it, entitled the "Rainy Season." I wonder how Amy and Edward are getting on; how I wish they were here. Do you think they will ever come over? Should any of you (of course I include any old friends and acquaintances at Caledonia) determine on removing to this part, the instructions in my husband's letter are the best we can give.

There has been great suffering on the road this year. We have seen a great many families who came through in a very fair manner, some of them without even the loss of a single head of cattle; these were among the first trains; among the latter the loss of cattle and lives was awful. Some horrid murders were committed on the road, for which the murderers were tried and shot or hung on the spot. The papers say there will be fifteen thousand added to the population of Oregon by this year's emigration. It is in contemplation to open a road through from Grand Ronde on to Puget Sound, which will shorten the distance at least 300 miles and out of the very worst of the road. Samuel and Billy are determined to come to meet you on the new route with Jack and Dandy, and more if wanted. Now we are settled in earnest you shall hear from us oftener and hope we shall the same from you. Give my kindest and best love to Mother. One old lady, about her age, crossed the plains when we did; she was alive and well when we left the other side of the Columbia.

I must introduce to you an old acquaintance--the Rooks--caw! caw! caw! all around us. We have a rookery on our farm. It is now the 28th of Nov., a fortnight since I wrote the above, in hopes that it would be on its passage to Wisconsin ere this, but was disappointed of sending to the postoffice. Weather warm and sunshiny as May, two or three white frosts that vanished with the rising of the sun are all we have had, not the slightest prospect of sleighing nearer than the slopes of Mt. Rainier.

I have just asked all hands for the dark side of Oregon, not one could mention anything worth calling such. Mr. J. says the shades are so light as to be invisible. The grey squirrel on the south of the Columbia was the most formidable enemy to the farmer; more of that when I write next.

My kindest love to all the dear children; how I long to see them all again, particularly Anna; O, that she may be a very good girl. Richard and Allan often talk of writing to Avis and Lydia. How are Mr. and Mrs. Welch and family? How gladly would I welcome them to my humble cabin. I cannot help thinking, too, that Mrs. W. and I could enjoy ourselves here on the green sward and in looking at the beautiful evergreen shrubs and plants on the banks of the Chehalis, though we might be overtaken by a mild sprinkling. A canoe on the waters of that beautiful stream would help to compensate for the loss of a sleigh on the snows of Wisconsin, particularly when it can be enjoyed at the same season of the year. But I suppose I must look upon all this as a Utopian dream, as I expect few if any of you would barter your comfortable house for a log cabin; well, it is my home, and I hope I have not given you an exaggerated description of it. I wished my husband to write a more particular description of the soil and its productions than I could give, but he was in no writing mood. He says the prairies as far as he has seen are not equal to Iowa or Illinois, but for climate and health he thinks Oregon equals if not surpasses most parts of the world.

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Well, I must bid you good-bye, with kind regards to Mr. and Mrs. Drummond, with all my other friends in Yorkville, Mr. Moyle and Susan, with all my friends and acquaintances in Caledonia. I will write again, all's well, about Christmas, and hope you will attend to the same rate and write once in a month. Farewell my dear sister. Yours in true affection,

A. M. JAMES.

P. S.--If Jane and Dick are married, I will risk saying that the best thing they can do is to come here. All the children send their love to you all. I should be thankful for a few flower seeds.