We were most agreeably surprised yesterday by a call from Doctor Whitman from Oregon, a member of the American Presbyterian Mission in that territory. A slight glance at him when he entered our office would convince any one that he had seen all the hardships of a life in the wilderness. He was dressed in an old fur cap, that appeared to have seen some ten years' service, faded, and nearly destitute of fur; a vest whose natural color had long since faded, and a shirt—we could not see that he had any—an overcoat, every thread of which could be easily seen, buckskin pants, etc.—the roughest man we have seen this many a day—too poor, in fact, to get any better wardrobe. The doctor is one of those daring and good men who went to Oregon some ten years ago to teach the Indians religion, agriculture, letters, etc. A noble pioneer we judge him to be, a man fitted to be chief in rearing a moral empire among the wild men of the wilderness. We did not learn what success the worthy man had in leading the Indians to embrace the Christian faith, but he very modestly remarked that many of them had begun to cultivate the earth and raise cattle.
He brings information that the settlers on the Willamette are doing well; that the Americans are building a town at the Falls of the Willamette; that a Mr. Moore of Mr. Farnham's party, some sixty years of age, was occupying one side of the Falls, in the hope that [the] government would make him wealthy by the passage of a preëmption law; that the old man Blair, another member of the same party, was living comfortably a short distance above, as all who have read Mr. Farnham's travels will know that he deserves to do. Doctor Whitman left Oregon six months ago; ascended the banks of the Snake or Laptin River to Fort Hall, and was piloted thence to Santa Fé by the way of the Soda Springs, Brown's Hole, the Wina, and the waters of the del Norte. From Santa Fé he came through the Indians that have been removed from the States to Missouri. The doctor's track among the mountains lay along the western side of the Anahuac Range; and he remarks that there is considerable good land in that region.
We give the hardy and self-denying man a hearty welcome to his native land. We are sorry to say that his first reception, on arriving in our city, was but slightly calculated to give him a favorable impression of the morals of his kinsmen. He fell into the hands of one of our vampire cabmen, who, in connection with the keeper of a tavern house in West Street, three or four doors from the corner near the Battery, fleeced him out of two of the last few dollars which the poor man had.
[This editorial was quoted in full by the Boston Advertiser of March 31st.]
From the New York Spectator, Wednesday evening, April 5, 1843.
CRUISING IN THE SOUND.
Gentlemen: Respecting the goodly Bay State I can say but little, because since I saw you, I have been only an occupant of steamboat and railroad cars. I had long supposed that a three-day trip to Boston was only hereafter to be a notion and reminiscence of olden time, but alas! I have had the stern reality of things as they "used to was." I left New York on Monday, in the Narraganset, at the usual time. We had a rough trip into the Sound, and at 12 o'clock Captain Woolsey, with sound discretion, carried us into the New Haven Bay, where we anchored till Wednesday morning, when we proceeded to Stonington, and on going over [to?] the railroad and finding it in the vocative case, owing to the outbreak of the waters, we retraced our movements and again took boat, and made a passage around Point Judith.
It is due to Captain Woolsey and his very gentlemanly aid, Mr. Richmond, to say that everything was done to make a large body of disappointed passengers feel happy; good and plentiful meals were gratuitously provided, and it can hardly be possible that any wayfarer on this occasion left the Narraganset without a deep conviction that, under the severe and awkward circumstances of the passage, all had been done that was possible to obviate the inconveniences and disagreeables of the passage through the Sound. I would add that the boat worked well. We had a very pleasant set of passengers. Among others I may mention the Hon. Robert Rantoul of Boston. This gentleman is by far the ablest man of the Democratic party in Massachusetts, and unless I could see him embarked for Salt River, (which I think must be his final destination,) I would rather have him embark on the same boat in which I sail, than any other. He is a very interesting, affable man, of great research, and will, I doubt not, yet render good service to the country.
THE REV. DR. WHITMAN FROM OREGON.
We also had one who was the observed of all, Doctor Whitman, the missionary from Oregon. He is in the service of the American Board of Commissioners of Foreign Missions. Rarely have I seen such a spectacle as he presented. His dress should be preserved as a curiosity; it was quite in the style of the old pictures of Philip Quarles and Robinson Crusoe. When he came on board and threw down his traps, one said "what a loafer!" I made up my mind at a glance that he was either a gentleman traveler, or a missionary; that he was every inch a man and no common one was clear. The Doctor has been eight years at the territory, has left his wife there, and started from home on the 1st of October. He has not been in bed since, having made his lodging on buffalo robe and blanket, even on board the boat. He is about thirty-six or seven years of age, I should judge, and has stamped on his brow a great deal of what David Crockett would call "God Almighty's common sense." Of course when he reached Boston he would cast his shell and again stand out a specimen of the "humans."