“I remained three years at Olympia, a great part of the time living alone with the children, the governor being away in all parts of the Territory, making treaties with the Indians, planning and arranging the settlement of the country. There was a pleasant company of officers, with their wives, stationed at Steilacoom, twenty miles from Olympia, with whom I became acquainted, and had visits from and visited. Naval ships came up Puget Sound with agreeable officers on board. I had a horse to ride on horseback across the lovely prairies. Almost daily I took a ride about the picturesque, beautiful country, with the rich, dense forests and snowy mountains, green little prairies skirted by timber, lakes of deep, clear water, all of which was new to me, affording great pleasure in exploring Indian trails and country, which was completely new. I also had a boat built, in which I made excursions down the Sound. About two miles down there was a Catholic mission, a large, dark house or monastery, surrounded by cultivated land, a fine garden in front filled with flowers, bordered on one side, next the water, with immense bushes of wall-flowers in bloom; the fragrance, resembling the sweet English violet, filling the air with its delicious odor. Father Ricard, the venerable head of this house, was from Paris. He had lived in this place more than twenty years. He had with him Father Blanchet, a short, thickset man, who managed everything pertaining to the temporal comfort of the mission. Under him were servants who were employed in various ways, baking, cooking, digging, and planting. Their fruit was excellent and a great rarity, as there was but one more orchard in the whole country. There was a large number of Flatheads settled about them, who had been taught to count their beads, say prayers, and were good Catholics in all outward observances; chanted the morning and evening prayers, which they sang in their own language in a low, sweet strain, which, the first time I heard it, sitting in my boat at sunset, was impressive and solemn. We went often to visit Father Ricard, who was a highly educated man, who seemed to enjoy having some one to converse with in his own language. He said the Canadians used such bad French.”
Mrs. Stevens was still suffering from the Panama fever, and it was a year before she and little Maude recovered from it. The new quarters consisted of two long, one-story wooden buildings, one room wide, little more than sheds, hired of Father Ricard at $900 a year. They were cheaply built, without plastering, but lined inside with cotton cloth. There was a narrow passageway between them, from which doors gave access to the different rooms. In rear was a large yard, extending to the beach, upon which a gate in the rear fence opened, and where a boat was kept. The Indian camp began at the corner of the yard. The governor had secured two men servants, Agnew as cook, and W.F. Seely, man of all work. The latter was a lusty young Irishman, strong as a bull and quick as a cat, witty, boastful, brave, and devoted to the governor and his family. He was a member of the exploring party, where he had fought and beaten all the pugilistic heroes up to the wagon-master, C.P. Higgins, by whom he had been handsomely vanquished, and whom he regarded ever after with great admiration and esteem.
The family soon felt at home in the new abode, amid the novel scenes and experiences, and cheered by new and old friends. George Stevens, Mason, and Lieutenant Arnold came in and out like brothers. There were Evans and Kendall, who came with the exploration; Major H. A. Goldsborough, George Gibbs, Colonel Simmons, Frank Shaw, and Orrington Cushman, known as “Old Cush,” with his great red beard, a great favorite with children, and liked and trusted by both whites and Indians. Major James Tilton, the surveyor-general, arrived with his family after a voyage around the Horn,—a man of soldierly bearing and aristocratic tastes, who was to render valuable service. Captain J. Cain also arrived, as Indian agent,—a typical Indiana politician, but a man of parts and integrity and public spirit, and a true friend.
The second legislature met on December 4, and the governor on the 5th delivered his message in person.
After acknowledging the consideration shown him as their executive, and congratulating them on the flattering prospects of the Territory, he recommended them to memorialize Congress for roads, mail service, steamer lines, etc., and other needs, and mentioned with regret the failure of Congress to provide for objects for which he had earnestly striven, viz., the extinction of the Hudson Bay Company’s claims, the running of the northern boundary line, and a geological survey of the coal measures. He urged the organization of an effective militia, referring to the danger of Indian hostilities, his recommendation to the first legislature, and to the fact that the government had refused his recent applications for arms because the militia was not organized. He summed up the results of his exploration in saying: “Beautiful prairies and delightful valleys, easy passes practicable at all seasons of the year, have taken the place of savage deserts and mountain defiles impracticable half the year from snow.... The more the country is examined, the better it develops.”
In closing he invoked their support of his efforts in behalf of the Indians:—
“I will indulge the hope that the same spirit of concord and exalted patriotism, which has thus far marked our political existence, will continue to the end. Particularly do I invoke that spirit in reference to our Indian relations. I believe the time has now come for their final settlement. In view of the important duties which have been assigned to me, I throw myself unreservedly upon the people of the Territory, not doubting that they will extend to me a hearty and generous support in my efforts to arrange on a permanent basis the future of the Indians of this Territory.”
Referring to the military road across the Nahchess Pass, he said:—
“It would be a great benefit to those traveling this road should the legislature take some step toward sowing with grass-seed the small prairie known as the Bare Prairie, situated a little below the mouth of Green River, as also the sides of the mountain known as La Tête. These points are intermediate in a long distance destitute of grass, and are almost necessarily stopping-places on the march. A very small sum would cover the expense of planting them, and the advantage would be incalculable.”
This humane and sensible suggestion was turned into ridicule and defeated by one of those wiseacres, strong in their own conceit and ignorance, that infest most assemblies, who cried out, “Governor Stevens needn’t try to make grass grow where God Almighty didn’t make it grow.”