Very few of them escaped the uncivilizing contamination, and many a youth, fresh from an unfinished course at school, had his book education cut sadly short by bestriding a cayuse and becoming a practical cowboy. The infatuation was not confined to the boys. The girls, too, had as much fondness for the noble brute, and were as expert and graceful in his management. Some of them have ridden seventy-five miles in a day. As a means of social communication at that time it had no equal; and for stock raising and the round-up in such a country, the horseman was unapproachable. Still, with all such advantages, and they were many, which could have been turned into permanent profit, the cowboy generation, though having a "heap of fun," and no doubt genuine pleasure, let the earth slip from under his feet. How could it be otherwise? Who could deny them? A party of boys and girls on their favorite steeds, the former in leggings, bell spurs, and the graceful sirrapa; the latter in the freshness of physical beauty and bedecked with flowing skirts and scarlet streaming sash—when such a cavalcade went galloping over the prairies with a speed that put to shame a Sheridan's ride, what parent could or would deny them.
Well, the parents did not deny them this and other diversions from gainful industry, and, little by little, the princely donations of land went into the till of the shopkeeper or the safe of the money changer. Landless and moneyless, they scattered over the country, and, as it were, dropped into all kinds of callings. Many of them have gone east of the Cascades and taken homesteads and pre-emptions in the arid regions, and there upon the bunch grass lands have gained a living and some a competence by stock raising and wool growing. Others followed up the streams into the mountains and in some narrow valley made a home away from the every day temptations of the lowlanders. Others went to the coast. Many of the young have found ample success in other avocations and do not regret the loss of the parental donations. They are found on the bench, at the bar, in the pulpit, in the governmental employ, in college faculties, and in all honorable pursuits. Only a few have ignobly failed, and those few do not invalidate the maxim that "where there is a will there is a way" for falling into the drink habit they lost their wills.
In conclusion, I am not willing to assert that the policy of the general government, in donating land as a reward for taking possession of this Northwest coast, was not a wise policy or that it was an injury to the donees, though in the main they failed to keep the gift, but the lesson is none the less valuable; and what is it but a confirmation of the general truth that "necessity is the mother of invention," the spur to exertion, and that success in this life is to be obtained only through the school of experience as the reward of continued and temperate effort. As there is no royal road to knowledge so there is no royal road to wealth or any other valuable acquisition; and it is not proper to confine this edict of fate to mere material things, although to be fed and clothed is the first and most imperious demand of nature. Man in all of his successful undertakings is an evolutionary being. Whether intellectually, morally, or physically considered, he keeps best what he has produced, what he has earned. As a hard and fast donee, he is not a success; as a beggar, he is disgusting even to himself. Sometimes he needs charity, but always justice.
T. W. DAVENPORT.
GLIMPSES OF EARLY DAYS IN OREGON.
It would be difficult, indeed, to find anything new to say of pioneering or pioneers, and useless to trace the pioneers along their journey across the Plains. We will pass over an interval of eight months and introduce our loved fathers and mothers on their arrival at where Portland now stands.
On the first of November, 1845, after a journey of eight months of inconceivable hardships, a small party of those pioneers first stepped on the banks of the grand Willamette River, near where Morrison Street is now located. The rays of the setting sun casting their light and shade o'er the beautiful landscape, impressed the beholders with a deep feeling of thankfulness that they were permitted to reach the new land, and stand on the shore of the wonderful river of the west. The wind murmuring through the branches of the stately fir bade them welcome, and the old trees served as shelter for the next two months. With the aid of flint, steel, and powder, a large camp fire was soon burning brightly, casting a rich glow o'er the magnificent wall of forest trees. It was a picturesque scene. The soft moonlight, the sparkle of the water, the lurid light from the resinous fire, formed a scene worthy of a painter's skill. They sat around the fire for hours reveling in the luxury of rest; and they arrived destitute in all save character, determination, and self-reliance. With such sterling qualities failure was impossible.
The little company did not retire early, as they were forming plans for their future work. At a late hour buffalo robes and blankets were spread on the ground, and soon all were lost in sleep. The only sound that broke the silence was the yelp of the prowling coyote.
With the first rosy blushes of the dawn the men began to rise, and before the sun was fairly over the horizon the sound and echoes of their axes brought cheer to our mothers' hearts, for they knew ere long homes would shelter them from the winter's storms. Weeks of hard labor were required to fell the trees, and clear away the brush, and prepare the site on which to build. Trees were cut the proper length, one side of the log hewed smooth with a broadax, and fitted so they would join at the corners and lie compact. It was no easy task, but our loved pioneers, with only a saw, auger and ax, broadaxe and adze would put to shame some of the more modern workmen. Logs for the puncheon floors were split and smoothed with an adze, and fitted close together, making a warm and solid floor. The structure raised to a proper height, poles were used for rafters; some of the logs were cut three feet in length, from which shakes were made and used in place of shingles. The fireplace and chimney was built with sticks and plastered inside and out with a thick coating of clay. Some had a stout iron bar securely fastened on one side of the large fireplace; on this bar, which was called a crane, iron hooks were placed, on which the teakettle and other cooking utensils were hung; all cooking and baking was done before the open fire and broad clay hearth. Windows were a sort of sliding door in the wall, without glass. The furniture was extremely simple, being split out of fir or cedar trees, and, if not elegant, was substantial; doors were also made of shakes, and hung on wooden hinges. Wooden pegs were used in place of nails. Rough bedsteads were placed in one corner of the large room, the trundle bed pushed under it during the day, and at night drawn out ready for the little ones. For one to see the number of sweet faces and bright eyes of the many children lying in their beds, the scene would put the old woman who lived in her shoe far in the minority. Large quantities of moss stripped from the trees made good mattresses; with buffalo robes and blankets they had comfortable beds. Their primitive cabins completed ready for occupancy, with heartfelt thankfulness they left the shelter of the trees for their first Oregon home.