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.