party of trappers near the divide of the Rocky Mountains. As for deer
and elk, none of these were seen on the plains. Birds of the prairie
were abundant, especially the sage hens, as the more arid regions were
crossed; but the flavor of this fowl was too high for the ordinary
appetite. Rattlesnakes were innumerable, but no one of the train
suffered from these reptiles except a girl. This occurred at
Independence Rock. As the young lady was clambering among the crevices,
she incidentally placed her hand upon a snake, which struck. Large doses
of whiskey, however, soon neutralized the venom.
After crossing the divide of the Rocky Mountains to the headwaters of
the Snake River, the numberless salmon of the streams become the wild
food in place of the buffalo meat of the plains. At Salmon Falls there
were many Indians of different western tribes taking the fish as they
ascended the rapids. In consequence, the royal Chinook was sold very
cheap; for a brass button one could buy all that he could carry away.
Here occurred a laughable incident. The whole camp was almost stampeded
by one wild Indian. He was a venerable fellow, dressed in a tall old
silk hat, and a vest, and walked pompously as if conscious of his
finery; his clothing, however, being nothing except the hat and vest. At
his approach, the camp was alarmed. The more modest hastily retreated to
their tents; and some of the men, angry that their wives should be
insulted, were for shooting the inconsiderate visitor. A young married
man, whose bride was particularly scandalized, was greatly exasperated.
But the object of the old Indian was merely peaceable barter. He carried
in each hand an immense fish; and Mr. Cosgrove, seeing his inoffensive
purpose, bade the boys be moderate, and going out to meet him, hastily
sawed a button from his coat, with which he purchased the fish, and sent
the old fellow off thoroughly satisfied.
On the Umatilla, after crossing the Blue Mountains, with all their
wonders of peak and valley, as they were camped beside the river,
the immigrants were visited by Doctor Whitman and his wife, and Mr.
and Mrs. Spaulding. Mr. Cosgrove remembers them all very distinctly.
Doctor Whitman he describes as tall and well proportioned, of easy
bearing, and hair perhaps a little tinged with gray; and very affable.
Mrs. Whitman was remarkably fine looking, and much more noticeable
than Mrs. Spaulding. Mr. Cosgrove has especial reason to remember the
missionaries, because, himself not being well, and this circumstance
being discovered by them, he was the recipient of various little
delicacies, of fruit, etc., not to be had in the train. A trade was
also made between himself and Whitman, of a young cow that had become
foot-sore, and could go no further, for a very good horse. Doctor
Whitman, says Mr. Cosgrove, “was a glorious good man;” and the news of
his massacre by the Indians a few months later, went over Oregon with a
shock like the loss of a personal friend.
Mr. Spaulding gave notice of a preaching service to be held about six
miles distant from the camp, and some of the immigrants attended. The
coming of the Catholic priests to that region was alluded to in the
sermon, and they were spoken of as intruders.
At The Dalles there was a division of opinion among the immigrants as to
the best route to follow into the Willamette Valley; whether over the
mountains or down the Columbia by bateaux to Vancouver. However, this
was easily settled for Mr. Cosgrove’s family. Word having reached
Vancouver that there were immigrants arriving, bateaux were sent up and
in readiness. The price asked for the service was moderate, and the
voyage was made quickly and comfortably. The wagons were taken to pieces
and loaded upon the boats, and the teamsters had no difficulty in
driving the oxen by the old trail, swimming them across the Columbia.
James McKay, a traveling companion, not being able then—though
afterwards a wealthy man—to employ a bateaux; built a raft, which
brought him through safely. Others went over the mountains.
On arrival at Vancouver, Mr. Cosgrove found a small house, with a big
fireplace, which he rented, and housed his family, feeling as happy as a
king to be under a roof once more. Here he could leave his family safely
while he looked over the country.
By the time that he reached the Cascades, the early autumn rains were
falling gently, and at Vancouver they were continuing; but they seemed
so light and warm as to cause little discomfort; and the Indians were
noticed going around in it unconcernedly barefooted.
At one time Mr. Cosgrove was eagerly advised by Daniel Lownsdale to
locate a claim immediately back of his own, on what is now included in a
part of the Portland townsite. But the timber here was so dense, and the
hills so abrupt that he saw no possible chance to make a living there,
and decided to look further.
Valuable advice was given by Peter Speen Ogden, then governor of the
fort. Mr. Cosgrove was quite for going down the river to Clatsop, so as
to be by the ocean. Mr. Ogden said, however, “It depends on what you are
able to do. If you want to go into the timber, go to Puget Sound; if you
want to farm, go up the Willamette Valley.”
Mr. Cosgrove decided that as he knew nothing of lumbering, but did know
something of farming, that he had better proceed to the farming country.
Coming on up the Willamette Valley, he was met everywhere in the most
friendly fashion; especially so by Mr. Hudson, the newspaper man of the
Joliet _Courier_, who constrained him, “right or wrong,” to turn his
cattle into a fine field of young wheat to pasture over night. Hudson
was living a few miles above Oregon City, opposite Rock Island, and was
a flourishing farmer. He went to the California mines, and was very
fortunate, discovering a pocket in the American River bed, in a crease
in the rocks, so rich that he dared not leave it, but worked without
cessation a number of days, ordering his meals brought to him, at an
ounce of gold dust each, and took over $22,000 from his claim.
Meeting Baptiste Dorio, of Saint Louis, on French Prairie, he proceeded
with him to look up farm lands. At Dorio’s a somewhat laughable incident
occurred. It was, at that early day, the custom for all to carry knife
and fork with them, and these were the only individual articles of table
furniture. The meal, usually beef and potatoes, was placed on an immense
trencher, hewed out of an oak log, and around this all sat, and each
helped himself at his side of the trencher.
Mr. Cosgrove ate heartily of the fine beef, which, however, he noticed
looked rather white. At the conclusion of the meal Dorio asked suddenly,
“Which do you like best, ox beef or horse beef?” “I do not know that I
could answer that,” said the fresh arrival, “as I have never yet eaten
horse beef?” “Yes, you have,” said the Frenchman imperturbably; “that
was horse beef that you have just eaten,”—a piece of information that
nearly ruined Mr. Cosgrove’s digestion for the rest of the day.
He found the Canadian farmers ready to dispose of their places, and was
besieged by many who had square mile claims to sell for $100, or less,
each; and with the fertile prairie, its deep sod, tall grass, and
expanse diversified with strips of forest trees, or lordly old groves,
he was very much pleased. Coming to Saint Paul he found entertainment at
the Catholic mission, and by a Mr. Jones, who was employed then as
foreman, he was furnished much valuable information. By the brusqueness
of Father Baldu, in charge of the establishment, he was, however, rather
taken aback. When he was ready to go, and went to the father to tell him
so, with the idea of offering pay for his entertainment, the reverend
gentleman simply remarked, “Well, the road is ready for you.”
Nevertheless, with St. Paul he was well pleased. There was a church and
a school, and a good place to sell his produce. He therefore purchased
the section adjoining the mission, paying $800,—two oxen and two cows,
and included in the bargain was the use of a fairly good house.
He had some stout sod plows of much better make than those of the
Canadians, and at once, as the winter was open, began to break the
prairie, and sowed forty acres to wheat. His family were comfortably
established, but met rather a severe shock as they went to meeting for
the first time. With feminine interest and delight his wife and
daughters brought out their best dresses and bonnets, as they would at
Chicago or Joliet. Mr. Cosgrove himself selected his best suit for the
occasion—he had three with him, a blue, and a gray frock, and a
swallowtail coat. The swallowtail and a rather high silk hat, and the
other accompaniments of full dress, was the suit that he chose. At the
meeting, however, where the appearance of the strangers caused minute
observation, the men all sitting on one side and the women on the other,
there were no bonnets,—the women wore only a red handkerchief tied over
the head; and the latest style bonnets from the east created not only
admiration, but much suppressed—though not very well suppressed—
merriment in the congregation.
On returning home Mrs. Cosgrove was very much dispirited, and exclaimed,
“To think that I have brought my family here to raise them in such a
place as this!” However, taking up the difficulty in a truly womanly
way, she soon had the women of the neighborhood making sun-bonnets, and
then instructed them how to weave wheat straw and make chip hats; and in
course of time they even put on bonnets. Not so, however, with Mr.
Cosgrove’s swallowtail coat and silk hat. These were such a mark for
ridicule that he never tried them again, at least in that circle; but
found his blue frock good enough. Indeed, even to this day, swell dress
is much despised among Oregon men.
However, the placid life of the Oregon farmer was not to be long
continued. The California mines broke out, and Mr. Cosgrove was
constrained to go along with the rest of the settlers. He made two
trips, returning the first time after a month’s mining to spend the
winter. The second time, which was prolonged to a stay of about twenty
months in the mines, he made very successful, but occasion arising to
sell his store in the mines for $15,000, he finally decided to do so,
and taking his dust, went down to San Francisco to look for a ship for
the Columbia.
While at the bustling town he was induced to invest $15,000 in a stock
of goods, which he brought to Oregon, and set up a store at Saint Paul.
Here he continued in business for a number of years, but says that he
discovered he was not cut out for a merchant, and so in course of time
fell back upon the farm.
The place upon which he is now living, which is part prairie and part
wood land, of fine quality, is immediately adjoining his original square
mile, which he sold, as under the donation act, but one square mile
could be claimed.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
REMINISCENCES OF WM. M. CASE.
By H. S. LYMAN.
William M. Case, a pioneer of 1844, who is still living on the donation
claim taken by him in 1845 on French Prairie, was born in Wayne County,
Indiana, not far from the Ohio line, in 1820. He is consequently now
eighty years of age, but is still vigorous, of unimpaired memory, firm
voice, and still master of affairs on his large farm of over one
thousand acres. He is six feet tall, of wiry build, and rather nervous
temperament, and very distinctively an American. In mind he is intensely
positive of the most definite views and opinions, and has the peculiarly
American qualities of fondness for concrete affairs. His hair and beard
are now nearly snow white, and worn long; and his face is almost as
venerable as that of the poet Bryant, which it somewhat resembles.
His life covers almost numberless interesting experiences, but is
perhaps most intimately connected with the part played by the Oregonians
in the California mines. This sketch will be confined more particularly
to the peculiar facts of his life not common to all the pioneers. Mr.
Case is particularly the man who can tell of the effects of the gold
mining and California life upon Oregon and Oregonians, and he can
explain a number of facts, quite apparent in their effects, but seldom
or never given in their causes, of the feeling that has arisen between
Californians and Oregonians.
It was an interesting incident that first directed his attention to
Oregon. By William Henry Harrison, while serving as delegate to congress
from the then territory of Indiana, public documents were forwarded
freely to his constituents. To William M.’s father, who was an
acquaintance of Harrison’s, there came, among other volumes, a journal
of the Lewis and Clark Expedition to the Columbia River. Over this the
boy used to pore, even while still young, and out of the crabbed volume,
whose matter (certainly not the literary style) interested the whole
nation, a most vivid picture was constructed of Oregon scenery, with the
big trees, and the mild climate, and grass green all the winter. He made
up his mind to come to Oregon when he was old enough. Before he was
twenty he told his father of his intention, and was met with no
opposition, the father being both considerate and intelligent; but with
his consent, was given this advice: “Don’t go, William, before you are
married; take a wife with you.” This wise and not at all unpleasant
counsel young Case put into execution; hating, like all born men of
action, to keep an idea long which he did not carry out in performance.
By his young wife, who was from New Jersey, he was encouraged, rather
than otherwise, to make the journey. She said, “My father used to dip me
in the surf of the Atlantic on the New Jersey shore, and I would like to
go and dip in the surf of the Pacific Ocean.”
Proceedings in congress in regard to Oregon were carefully watched by
Mr. Case, especial note being taken of the Linn bill, by whose
provisions there were to be given a square mile of land to each man,
another to his wife, and a quarter section to each child. It was well
understood that the United States government could not give title to
land in Oregon; but this bill was introduced as a promise of what it
would do; and was in reality a test of the American spirit. Would the
American people settle Oregon? If so, the United States would claim the
territory.
Men like Case were found, who had a broad outlook, who understood the
value of land in the Columbia or Willamette Valley, and who saw that the
United States must front the Pacific as well as the Atlantic. These
ideas were largely formed by the broad spirit of the west, the Ohio and
Mississippi Valley, whose chief representatives were men like Doctor
Linn and Colonel Benton in congress. Such men wished to live their lives
on a more liberal scale than was possible even in the old west. Mr.
Case, like his father, was an old line whig, and later an uncompromising
republican. He says: “The United States Bank helped the country a great
deal. But when, upon the expiration of its charter, the bill to grant a
second charter was vetoed by President Jackson, there followed a crash
such as can never be described. The country never fully recovered from
the depression until the discovery of gold in 1848.” Wages, he says,
were twenty-five cents a day in Indiana, or $6 a month, or $100 a year,
in special cases. Under such circumstances, a young man saw no chance
for accumulating a competence, but in Oregon he might begin with a
better outlook.
During the year of 1841, when he was married at the age of twenty-one,
Case was making his preparations, and on April 1, 1842, started out for
Platte City, Missouri, which he reached June 10. However, he was too
late to catch the Oregon train, which had left the first of the month.
Going to Northern Missouri, he remained until 1844, but was on time to
catch the first train of that season. The crossing of the Missouri River
was made at a point about ten miles below the present City of Omaha, at
a place now called Bellevue. The train of sixty wagons was organized
under Captain Tharp; and a regular line of march was established, the
train moving in two divisions, on parallel lines, and about a quarter to
half a mile apart, to be in easy supporting distance in case of an
attack by Indians. The whole train was brought together at nighttime,
the wagons being driven in such a way as to form a perfect corral,
inside of which the tents for the night were placed; although frequently
no tents were set, especially after Nebraska was passed, where the
season of 1844 was very late and stormy. With the company of General
Gilliam of that year, traveling with which were R. W. Morrison, John
Minto, W. R. Rees, and other well-known pioneers, the company of Captain
Tharp and Mr. Case had no connection, and were in advance all the way.
John Marshall, however, who went to California in 1846, and discovered
gold in 1848, was a member of the train.
The three following incidents on the plains may be mentioned as
presenting something new. One was a charge, or stampede, of about one
thousand buffaloes. This occurred in the Platte Valley. As the two
divisions were moving along deliberately, at ox-speed, in the usual
parallel columns, the drivers were startled by a low sound to the north
as of distant thunder. There was no appearance of a storm, however, in
that or any other direction, and the noise grew louder and louder, and
was steady and uninterrupted. It soon became clear that there was a herd
of buffaloes approaching and on the run. Scouring anxiously the line of
hills rimming the edge of the valley, the dark brown outline of the herd
was at length descried, and was distinctly made out with a telescope, as
buffaloes in violent motion and making directly for the train. The front
of the line was perhaps half a mile long and the animals were several
columns deep, and coming like a tornado. They had probably been
stampeded by hunters and would now stop at nothing. The only apparent
chance of safety was to drive ahead and get out of the range of the
herd. The oxen were consequently urged into a run and the train itself
had the appearance of a stampede. Neither were they too quick; for the
flying herds of the buffaloes passed but a few yards to the rear of the
last wagons, and were going at such a rate that to be struck by them
would have been like the shock of rolling boulders of a ton’s weight.
Mr. Case recalls measuring one buffalo that was six feet, two inches,
from hoof to hump, and was over four feet from dewlap across the body.
Another most important occurrence was near Fort Platte, where a
Frenchman by the name of Bisnette was in command, and in which another
Frenchman, Joe Batonne, was also an important actor; something, perhaps,
that has never been related, but which probably prevented the
destruction of the train. It happened that at Bellevue Mr. Case found
and employed a young Frenchman by the name of Berdreau, and about two
hundred miles out from Omaha he was asked by this Berdreau to take in
another young Frenchman, Joe Batonne, who had started with a Doctor
Townsend of the train, but had fallen out with him and now was seeking
another position. Batonne was therefore traveling with Case. As they
were approaching Fort Platte, however, word was received from the
commandant, Bisnette, to come forward no further; but if they had anyone
in the train who knew the Sioux language to send him. “There is a war
party of Sioux Indians here,” was his information, “and I cannot
understand why they should be here. The place for them at this time of
the year is on the Blackfoot or Crow border, while this is in the very
center of their territory. I fear they mean some mischief to the train.”
Batonne was the only one in the train who understood Sioux. He was
accordingly sent forward, being inconspicuously dressed, along with some
others, all riding their horses. The party reached Fort Platte and
passed freely among the Sioux Indians. These formed an immense host,
being a full party of six men to a tent, and five hundred tents, which,
although crowded together irregularly, still covered a considerable
space.
Batonne kept his ears open as his party rode here and there, but said
nothing. Finally, as they were passing a certain tent, a young Sioux was
heard to exclaim, “It always makes me itch to see an American horse; I
want to ride it so bad.” A chief answered him in a low voice, “Wait a
few days, until the immigrants come up, and we shall have all their
horses.” This was soon reported by Batonne to Bisnette, who at once sent
word back to the train to wait until he had contrived some plan to send
the Indians off. The plan he hit upon was this—and he told it afterwards
only to Mr. Case and Joe Batonne, under strict promises of secrecy:
He called all the chiefs together with the message that he had very
important news for them. They accordingly assembled and sat in solemn
council. After the pipe was passed and smoked, the first whiff, as
usual, being directed to the Great Spirit, Bisnette began:
“I have lived with you now many years and have always dealt honorably.”
“Yes,” answered the Sioux.
“I have never told you a lie.”
“Never,” said the chiefs.
“And have been as a brother.”
“You have been our white brother,” they said.
“Well,” he continued, “I have just heard news that is of utmost
importance to you. The immigrants who come from the sunrise and will
soon be here have been delayed; a man died; they buried him; he had the
smallpox. I advise you, therefore, to leave this place as soon as
possible, and to go to your northern border and not return for over a
month.”
No news could have been more alarming to the Indians, who understood
only too well what the smallpox was; not many years before infected
blankets having been distributed among them through the agency of white
trappers whom they had been allowed to rob, as a sort of punishment for
having robbed lone trappers heretofore; and by this the whole tribe had
been decimated by the scourge, very many dying, and some even of those
who recovered, but were badly marked, had killed themselves. They had
been told by the trappers that the smallpox pits were the mark of the
devil. “The devil will get you sure now” they told them. As soon as
Bisnette told these Indians that there was smallpox in the train the
chiefs slid out to their tents, and within fifteen minutes the whole
army was on the move, going to the north, and not returning while the
immigrants of that season were passing.
The other point was the cause of the breaking up of the organization.
After passing the Sioux country, fear of the Indians wore off, and the
necessity of rapid travel became more and more apparent, but among the
one hundred and twenty men of the train—as many at least as two to the
wagon—at least one hundred, says Mr. Case, were “worthless,” or
dangerously near that line. The daily labor of the march was devolved
more and more upon the twenty men or so that felt the necessity of
pushing on. The majority, however, often spent their evenings playing
cards to a late hour, or dancing and fiddling with the young folks
around the fire, and slept the next morning until called for breakfast
by the women. Various ways were devised to equalize these matters; the
women, among other devices, being put up to taking and burning the packs
of cards, unbeknown to the men. But it finally became old—getting up 2
o’clock of a morning to hunt the cattle, which, in grazing, always
attempted to go ahead of one another, and thus sometimes were spread out
for several miles on the prairie. Doing this again and again, for men
who would not take their turn, but were sleeping at the camp, was
finally too much to be borne. Case and some others, accordingly made
ready, and one morning struck out with their wagons, and before night
the whole train was resolved into two sections; the jolly boys who
danced and fiddled being left behind.