senate, called upon the President and met there Senator Colquitt, of
Georgia. Mr. Calhoun urged upon Mr. Polk that it was important that some
action of pacific character should go to England upon the next steamer,
and asked the President’s opinion of the policy of the senate’s passing
a resolution in executive session, advising the President to reopen
negotiations on the basis of the forty-ninth parallel. Mr. Polk was
unwilling to advise such a course; he did, however, finally tell Mr.
Calhoun and Mr. Colquitt, in confidence, as members of the senate, that
if Great Britain should see fit to submit a proposition for compromise
on that line, he should feel it his duty, following the example of
Washington on important occasions, to submit the proposition to the
senate confidentially for their previous advice. This course had already
been considered in cabinet two days before, on the reading of a dispatch
from Mr. McLane, our Minister in London, and had met with the almost
unanimous approval of the members.
The house had already, on the ninth of February, passed the resolution
of notice; the senate yet delayed and debated. But from the time when
the President consented to encourage a further proposition of compromise
from the British government by promising to submit the same to the
senate for advice, events moved rapidly to a favorable conclusion. April
17 the resolution of notice passed the senate. Formal notice
was addressed by our President to the Minister in London on the
twenty-eighth of April, was received by him in London on the fifteenth
of May, and on the twentieth of May was by him presented to Lord
Aberdeen. Two days before receiving the notice, however, on the
eighteenth of May, Lord Aberdeen had addressed a note to Mr. Packenham,
at Washington, instructing him to offer a compromise on the basis of
such a modification of the line of the forty-ninth degree of north
latitude as would give to Great Britain Vancouver’s Island, and allow
her the free navigation of the Columbia for a limited term of years.
On the tenth of June, in a message to the senate, the President
submitted this proposal, and asked the senate’s previous advice.
This was formally given in a resolution adopted June 12, by a vote
of thirty-eight to ten, in which the senate advised the President to
accept the proposal of the British government. A treaty based upon
this proposal was concluded and signed on the fifteenth day of June by
the representatives of the two powers. This treaty, on the following
day, was laid before the senate by the President, for its approval,
and three days later was confirmed without amendment. This convention
provided for the extension of a line on the forty-ninth degree of
north latitude, westward from the Rocky Mountains, to the middle of
the channel which separates the continent from Vancouver’s Island,
and thence southerly, through the middle of said channel, and of Fuca
Straits, to the Pacific Ocean.
It was found by the commissioners appointed to determine a line in
accordance with this convention that in one part of the strait there
were two recognized channels, an easterly one, by the Straits of
Rosario, and a westerly one, by the Canal De Haro. The commissioners
failing to agree as to which of the channels was the channel
contemplated by the treaty, the determination of this portion of the
line was left in abeyance. It remained so until the year 1871, when the
joint high commission appointed to adjust sundry differences between the
two governments, met in Washington. By certain articles of a convention,
concluded at this time it was agreed by the representatives of the two
powers, to submit to the Emperor of Germany the question as to which of
the two channels was the more in accordance with the treaty of June 15,
1846, the commissioners pledging their respective governments to accept
his award as final. The Emperor of Germany submitted the question to
three experts, Doctor Grimm, Doctor Goldschmidt, and Doctor Kiepert. In
accordance with the report of these distinguished scholars, the Emperor
of Germany, on the twenty-first of October, 1872, rendered his decision,
that the line by way of the Canal De Haro was the one most in accordance
with the treaty. This decision was accepted by the two governments, and
the unsettled portion of the boundary line determined in accordance with
it.
Thus, after the vicissitudes of more than three-quarters of a century of
debate and negotiations, with the determination of this last detail, the
Oregon Question reached its full and final decision.
JOSEPH R. WILSON.
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REMINISCENCES OF HUGH COSGROVE
By H. S. LYMAN.
Hugh Cosgrove, an Oregon pioneer of 1847, and a representative of the
men of some means, who established the business interests of the state,
is of Irish birth, having been born in County Cavan, North Ireland, in
1811. Although now in his ninetieth year, he is still of clear mind and
memory, and recalls with perfect distinctness the many scenes of his
active life. He is still living on the place which he purchased, in
1850, on French Prairie, near Saint Paul. He is a man of fine physical
proportion, being in his prime, five feet, eleven inches tall, and full
chested, broad shouldered, and erect, and weighing about one hundred and
eighty pounds. He has the finely moulded Celtic features, and genial
expression of the land of Ulster, and enjoys the fine wit and humor for
which his race is famous. His father was a farmer, but learning much of
the opportunities in Canada, concluded to cross the ocean to improve the
conditions of himself and his family. It was about that period when
assisted emigration from East Britain was in vogue, and mechanics of
Glasgow, Scotland, were loaned 10£ sterling for each member of the
family, to take up free homes in Canada; the loan to be returned after a
certain time. The Cosgroves not being from that city, did not enjoy this
loan, but determined to take advantage of the other opportunities
offered all the immigrants, which were a concession of one hundred acres
of land free, and an outfit of goods necessary to setting up a home in
the new land.
Taking passage on a lumber ship, the Eliza, of Dublin, at a rate of 3£
each, and furnishing their own victualing, they made a speedy and
prosperous voyage, some considerable glimpses of which remain in the
memory of Mr. Cosgrove, after the lapse of eighty years. He remembers
well, also, the breaking up of the old home, the auction of the family
belongings, and the general sense of hope and abandon with which they
cut loose from the shores of the old world. None of the family,
probably, had any considerable appreciation of the vast race movement to
which they as units of society were answering, but felt keenly the
bracing effect of increased energy and enthusiasm which that movement
imparted.
In Canada they hastened to secure their possessions, locating the one
hundred-acre lot of their own, in the hard timber woods out on the
boulder-sprinkled soil of lower Canada, in the Dalhousie township,
within five miles of Lanark, and obtaining a free government outfit at
the government store at Lanark. Here young Hugh spent the most of his
boyhood, helping to clear the farm, becoming an expert axeman, burning
the hard wood, from the ashes of which was leached the potash that paid
for the clearing; and also getting his education at the free school. He
recalls these as very happy years, and the pride and joy that all the
family took in owning their own home did very much to form his character
on a more liberal and progressive plan than could have been had in old
world conditions. At the age of twenty-one he was married to Mary, a
daughter of Richard Rositer,—“a glorious good man,” of Perth. Learning
at length that land of a better quality, less stony, was vacant “out
west,” a move was made to Chatham, in Canada West, as then known. Having
a “birth-right claim,” as it was called, to one hundred acres, and
finding that he could make a purchase adjoining of one hundred acres of
“clerical land,” the young farmer laid out his two hundred-acre farm,
and made buildings to improve it. But learning that land was still
better the farther west one went, he proceeded as far as the Detroit
River.
But just at this juncture all things were thrown in confusion by the
uprising of the “Patriots,” the extent of whose organization was not
known. There was great alarm felt, and the Canadian militia were likely
to be called out. Now the Cosgroves had been duly taught that “the
Yankees” were terrible people, almost ready to eat innocent people from
the old country. But now that the Canadian side looked warlike, Mrs.
Cosgrove said to her husband: “Very likely now you will be called out
with the militia, and I will be left alone; why not cross over into the
United States, and begin there?” She was acquainted, moreover, with a
family in Detroit. Mr. Cosgrove acted upon the suggestion, and this led
into a very much larger field of operations.
They found life on the American side much more intense and extensive,
and discovered that the Yankees, instead of being a species of
man-eaters, were royal good fellows.
Having saved some money for a new start, he prudently looked about how
to invest it so as to make increase as he crossed the line. He found at
the custom house that duty on cattle was low. He bought cows, selling at
$10 each in Canada, which he disposed of in Michigan at as much as $40
each,—his first “good luck.” This gave him some ready money to begin
business.
Fortunately in disposing of his cattle he made the acquaintance of a Mr.
Saxon, a business man of very high character, recently from New Jersey.
He was, indeed, not only a strict business man, but strictly religious,
and a crank in habits of morality, taking pains to advise young men
against bad habits. By this Mr. Saxon, Cosgrove was interested in taking
work, just being begun on the railway line from Detroit to Chicago,
Illinois, then a landing place on the marshy shores of Lake Michigan.
“Why not take a contract?” asked Mr. Saxon, who had himself the work of
locating a twenty-mile section of the road; and offered all assistance
necessary in making bids, and was willing to guarantee Cosgrove’s
responsibility. By this great service a paying contract was secured of
grading a section of road. The contract was profitable, and the ins and
outs of business were learned—especially the art of how to employ and
work other men profitably,—Mr. Saxon, the ever ready friend, frequently
giving the young immigrant helpful advice.
Having saved something like $5,000 from his operations, he was next
visited by a coterie of eastern men who were coming west to mend their
fortunes—to go to Chicago, and take a contract of excavating and filling
on the great projected canal from Chicago to the Mississippi—a work only
just completed at this day. It was then begun under state control. He
soon discovered that he was the only capitalist in the number, and in
order to save the job, bought out the main man, a Mr. Smith, who had a
contract of $80,000. This was finished to advantage, although the state
suspended operations. Prices were excellent, some of the rock excavating
being done at fifty to seventy-five cents, and rock filling at $1.25 per
square yard. Further contracts were taken, but in the course of time
prices were forced down. In following up the railway development, a
residence was made at Joliet, where he bought one hundred and sixty
acres of land, on which much of the city now stands. But two things
acted as a motive to make him look elsewhere. One was the malaria of the
Illinois prairie; the other was the report of Oregon.
A newspaper man by the name of Hudson, of the Joliet _Courier_, who had
come to Oregon, wrote back very favorable accounts of that then
territory, especially praising the equable climate. A number of Joliet
men, among whom were Lot Whitcomb and James McKay, read these articles
with interest, and finally made up their minds to cross the country to
Oregon, a name that was to the old west about what the new world was to
the old. Lot Whitcomb, a man of affairs, who afterwards made himself
famous in Oregon as a steamboat man, thought Oregon would be a great
place for contractors and men able to carry on large undertakings, as he
heard that there were few such there.
In April, 1847, accordingly, a party of thirteen families were ready to
start. Cosgrove had been trading during the winter, to get suitable
wagons and ox teams. He preferred to make the eventful journey
comfortably and safely, and lack nothing that forethought could provide.
He did not belong to the poorer class, who had to make the trip partly
on faith. Three well made, well built wagons, drawn each by three yoke
of oxen—young oxen—and a band of fifteen cows constituted his outfit. He
had young men as drivers, and his family was comfortably housed under
the big canvas tops.
He now recalls the journey that followed as one of the pleasantest
incidents of his life. It was a long picnic, the changing scenes of the
journey, the animals of the prairie, the Indians, the traders and
trappers of the mountain country; the progress of the season, which was
exceptionally mild, just about sufficed to keep up the interest, and
formed a sort of mental culture that the world has rarely offered.
Almost all migration has been carried on in circumstances of danger and
distress, but this was, although daring in the extreme, a summer jaunt,
with nothing to vitiate the effect of the great changes in making out
the American type.
The following particulars of the journey have the interest of being
recalled by a pioneer now in his ninetieth year, showing what sharp
lines the original experiences had drawn on the mind, and also being in
themselves worthy of preservation. However much alike may have been the
journeyings across the plains in general features, in each particular
case, it was different from all others, and no true comprehension of the
whole journey, the movement of civilization across the American
continent, can be gained without all the details; the memory of one
supplying one thing, and that of another supplying another. The
experiences of the Cosgroves were those of the pleasantest kinds, the
better-to-do way of doing it, without danger, sickness, great fatigue,
or worry, and with no distress.
After making the drive across Iowa and Missouri, in the springtime, when
the grass was starting and growing, the Missouri River was crossed,
waiting almost a week for their turn at Saint Joe, and then they were
west of the Mississippi, with the plains and the Indian country before
them. An “organization” was duly effected. Nothing showed the American
character more distinctly than the impulse to “organize,” whenever two
or three were gathered together. It was the social spirit. There was no
lack of materials, as besides this party of thirteen families, there
were hundreds of others gathering at Saint Joe, the immigration of that
year amounting to almost two thousand persons. A train of one hundred
and fourteen wagons was soon made up, and Lot Whitcomb was elected
captain. Mr. Cosgrove says, “I was elected something. I have forgotten
what it was”—but some duty was assigned to each and all, and the big
train moved.
Almost immediately upon starting, however, they were met by some
trappers coming out of the mountains, who said, “You will never get
through that way; but break up in small parties of not over fifteen
wagons each.”
It soon proved as the trappers said. The fondness of organization, and
having officers, is only exceeded among Americans by the fondness of
“going it on one’s own hook;” and this, coupled with the delays of the
train, broke up Lot Whitcomb’s company in two days. In a company, as
large as that, a close organization was next to impossible. A trifling
break down or accident to one hindered all, and the progress of the
whole body was determined by the slowest ox. When Mr. Cosgrove separated
his three fine wagons, and active young oxen, and drove out on the
prairie, Captain Whitcomb said, “that settles it. If Cosgrove won’t stay
by me, there is no use trying to keep the company together.” With
thirteen wagons, and oxen well matched, all went well.
Indians of many tribes were gathered or camped at Saint Joe, and
followed the train along the now well traveled road. They were polite as
Frenchmen, bowing or tipping their hats, which were worn by some, as
they rode along. They expected some little present, usually, but were
well satisfied with any article that might be given; and the immigrants
expected to pass out a little tobacco or sugar, or some trifle.
There was but one affair with Indians that had any serious side. This
occurred at Castle Rock, an eminence out on the prairie, some hundreds
of miles from the Mississippi. Here the train was visited, after making
the afternoon encampment, by a party of about forty mounted Pawnees,
clothed only in buffalo robes. They seemed friendly, asking for sugar
and tobacco, as usual. But as they rode off, they disclosed their
purpose—making a sudden swoop, to stampede the cattle and the horses of
the train. The young men of the train, however, instantly ran for the
trail ropes of their horses, and began discharging their pieces at the
Indians, who, perhaps, were more in sport than in earnest, or, at least,
simply “saucing” the immigrants; and wheeled off to the hills, letting
the stock go.
But this was not all of it, as the Pawnees soon overtook two men of the
train who were out hunting, and, quickly surrounding them, began making
sport, passing jokes, and pointing at the men and laughing to one
another; and ended by commanding the alarmed and mystified hunters to
take off their clothes, article by article, beginning with their boots.
When it came to giving up their shirts, one of the white men hesitated,
but was speedily brought to time by a smart stroke across the shoulders
by the Indian chief’s bow. When the two white men were entirely
disrobed, the Pawnees again made remarks, and then commanded them to run
for camp; but considerately threw their boots after them, saying they
did not want them. Much crestfallen, the two forlorn hunters came out of
the hills, “clipping it as fast as they could go” to the train, which
was already excited, and thought at first that this was a fresh
onslaught of the savages. The men of the train, however, were not very
sorry for the young fellows, as they were notorious boasters, and from
the first had been declaring that they would shoot, first or last, one
Indian a piece before they reached Oregon.
The animal life, as it gradually was encountered, was a source of great
interest. The gentle and fleet, but curious, antelopes were the first
game. Mr. Cosgrove had two very large and swift greyhounds, which were
able to overtake the antelopes. But the meat of these animals was not
very greatly relished, being rather dry.
The wolves were the most constant attendants of the train, appearing
daily, and howling nightly. These were the large gray wolves, much like
our forest species; also, a handsome cream-colored animal, and the black
kind, and most curious of all, the variety that was marked with a dark
stripe down the back, crossed by another over the shoulders. Then the
coyotes were innumerable, and yelped at almost every camp fire. Shooting
at the wolves, however, was nothing more than a waste of ammunition, and
these animals were at length disregarded. Even the greyhounds learned to
let them severely alone, for though at first giving chase ferociously,
they soon found a pack of fierce wolves no fun, and were chased back
even more ferociously than they started out.
The cities of the prairie dogs were interesting places, and the tiny
chirp, a yelp, of the guardian of the door, became a familiar sound. Mr.
Cosgrove recalls shooting one of these, finding it much like a chipmunk,
only of larger size.
But the great animal of the prairie was the buffalo. The vast herds of
these grand animals impressed the travelers of the plains quite
differently, almost always giving a shock of strange surprise. One
immigrant recalls that his first thought at seeing distant buffaloes,
but few in number, in the sparkling distance, was that they were
rabbits. With Mr. Cosgrove’s party there were indications enough of the
animals. Indeed, the plains were strewn with the buffalo chips, and it
was the regular thing, noon and evening, as they came to camp, for each
man to take his sack and gather enough of them for the camp fire; and
coming to the Platte Valley they found the region strewn with the dead
bodies of the thousands of the animals, which had probably come north
too soon, and were caught in the last blizzard of the winter; but no
live buffaloes were seen. But at length, as the train crested a slope,
and a vast expanse of prairie opened in view, Mr. Cosgrove looked over,
and seeing what seemed brown, shaggy tufts thickly studding the distance
as far as eye could reach, he exclaimed, “We shall have plenty of
firewood now! No need of gathering chips tonight!” He thought the vast
Platte Valley was covered with stunted clumps of brush-wood. One of the
girls was near, however, and after looking, cried out, “See, they are
moving!” Then first he realized it was a herd of buffaloes. Nor were
they simply grazing; they were on the run and bearing down on the train.
The cry of “buffaloes!” was passed back. It was not altogether safe to
be in the path of such an immense herd, and the train was quickly
halted, the wagon pins drawn, and a band of hunters quickly went out on
horseback to meet the host, and also to get buffalo meat. The herd
divided, leaving the train clear and the oxen standing their ground. One
part went off to the hills; the other took the fords of the Platte,
making the water boil as they dashed through. Enough were shot to stock
the train; yet the herd was so vast that at least four hours elapsed
before the last flying columns had galloped by—like the last shags of a
thundercloud. What a picture—thirteen families with their oxen and
wagons, sitting quietly in the midday blaze, while a buffalo troop,
perhaps one hundred thousand strong, or even more, dashed past on either
side. The best method of preparing the buffalo meat was by jerking it,
over a slow fire of sagebrush sticks; the meat being sliced thin, and
dried in the smoke in one night. At a later time, when buffalo had
become as familiar as cattle, however, the train was stopped by one
single monarch. It was just at evening, and the man detailed to go ahead
to find a good camping place was out of sight. A shot was heard,
however, and the startled train was halted, and the king-pins were
drawn, all ready for any emergency; for it might be Indians ahead.
The picket soon was seen, riding at top speed, and crying as he came,
“Don’t shoot, don’t shoot!” and just behind him was an enormous buffalo,
charging the whole train. The animal did not stop until within a few
rods, and then only with lowered head, and huge square shoulders. The
difficulty of shooting him without inducing him to make a charge, if not
dropped, was at once apparent. But at length, at a signal, about fifteen
rifle balls were poured into his front; and after a moment he began to
reel from side to side, and then fell over. Even then no one dared to go
and cut the throat, to bleed him; but after a time one cried, “I’ll do
it!” and the deed was done. It required several yoke of oxen to make a
team strong enough to drag him to camp, and his estimated weight was
twenty-two hundred pounds.