Kate Mulhall A romance of the Oregon Trail
Arriving at St. Louis after a long, difficult and perilous trip of
which no account was ever made, they were directed to the home of
Gen.[2] William Clark, who received them cordially and during their
stay there often entertained them in his own house. As may well be
imagined, the General was astonished when he learned the purpose that
brought them from such a distance; and although outside his line of
duty, he determined to do everything possible to assist them.
Clark spent considerable time showing them the town and its
attractions; to those children of the wilderness, St. Louis was of
course a strange and wonderful place. It was at that time the
largest settlement in the middle West, and the principal outfitting
point for travel, explorations or hunting expeditions to the Rocky
Mountains or beyond. But the greatest obstacle to the progress of
their mission was the inability of the Indians to speak or understand
our language.
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Before they had been very long in St. Louis, one of the old men
became ill, doubtless from the fatigue of the long journey, change of
diet and impure water of the Mississippi; he soon passed away, and
was buried there. In about two weeks the other old Indian followed
him in death, neither living to know the result of their mission.
The two younger men remained there during the winter, and in the
spring started up the river on their way back to the far Northwest.
One of them died in the Yellowstone region, and the other proceeded
to cross the Great
Mountains alone, finally succeeding, after a long absence,
in reaching his home and kindred.
While they were at St. Louis an Indian agent, William Walker, en
route to the Osage and other tribes beyond the Mississippi, arrived
there with a letter from the Secretary of War, and called upon Clark
for special instructions regarding the Indians he was about to visit.
The General informed him of the Nez Perces and Flatheads under his
roof at the time.
Anxious to see those aborigines from beyond the Rocky Mountains, Mr.
Walker interviewed them and gives an interesting account of their
appearance and the reason for their coming. This was published after
his return from the trip already mentioned; and although he does not
give dates, it has been established from contemporary records that
the Indian delegation was in St. Louis during the winter of 1831-32.
Mr. Walker's letter in the _Christian Advocate_ of March 1, 1833, at
once aroused the greatest interest and religious fervor throughout
the length and breadth of the land. Missionary enthusiasm quickly
arose to fever heat, due to the fact that a party of Indians had
voluntarily come more than two thousand miles over mountain and
desert from near the waters of the Pacific, calling for Christian
enlightenment.
It aroused the apostolic spirit among the churches to a height not
seen in a generation; meetings were held, subscriptions to defray the
expenses came pouring in, and devoted men offered their services to
answer the call. The {249} first in the field were the Methodists,
animated by the evangelical spirit of John Wesley, founder of that
great denomination. Funds were raised, the personnel of the party
decided upon, and all preparations completed for the journey to the
far West in the spring of 1834.
Rev. Jason Lee was placed in charge of the expedition; and I had
abundant opportunity to personally observe how well fitted he was
mentally, physically and spiritually for the serious task.
Arrangements were made for the missionaries to accompany Nathaniel J.
Wyeth, of Boston, who had organized a fur company to carry on that
business in the Oregon Country; and had some forty or fifty men in
his party.
The journey across the Continent was full of exciting
adventures--fording or swimming turbulent and treacherous rivers,
eluding or repelling small bands of predatory Indians, fleeing for
safety from the thunderous charges of stampeding buffalo, and many
incidents of lesser import. But while neither my time nor your
patience will admit of giving a detailed recital of them, one event
which happened on that trip deserves more than passing mention.
After crossing the Rocky Mountain divide, their course was northwest
until they came to the Snake River. While on an exploring trip the
previous year, Mr. Wyeth had decided to erect a trading post at a
point on that stream near where a considerable tributary, the
Portneuf River, enters it and in the midst of a good fur-producing
territory, well adapted for his purpose.
The party camped at this place and remained there a few days.
Besides the men Wyeth had brought from the eastern States, who by
this time had become genuine frontiersmen at least in appearance, he
had taken quite a number of mountain men and independent trappers
into his employ at the Rendezvous on Green River, near the site where
Fort Bridger was located by James Bridger in 1843, about nine years
later. There were also some nondescript characters with no visible
occupation--altogether a motley and extremely picturesque throng.
Many of the men had buckskin suits, embellished with {250} fringes
and decorated with beads; others wore untanned deer and bearskin
garments of almost every conceivable design. A few had coats and
trousers of buffalo hide, and one a complete suit of wildcat skins.
All had beards, some reaching to the belt line, while others were
clipped until they resembled bristles; but there was no evidence that
any man among them possessed a razor.
Though it was midsummer, many wore fur caps and some went bareheaded.
Various kinds and patterns of rifles and muskets were in evidence,
while a few carried Spanish musketoons. Physically they were
somewhat above the average stature of men in "the States." While
encamped there the men spent most of the time playing cards, shooting
at targets or swapping yarns.
It was not the kind of a crowd you would expect to see occupying
church pews or attending Sunday School; but Jason Lee made an
announcement that he would hold services on the Sabbath, and desired
every one to be on hand. They evidently thought it a good joke for
any one to attempt to preach Christianity to such a lawless crowd of
semi-wild and godless men; however, it was a diversion, and all
promised to be there and hear the reverend visitor's message.
Jason Lee was six feet or more in height and slightly stooped; his
head was large and well-shaped, with an undeniable expression of
determination and courage. Yet there was a kindly look in his eye;
and when he smiled, you instinctively knew that beneath his rugged
outward appearance was a genial spirit tempered with seriousness.
Shortly after breakfast he took his Bible and went some distance from
the camp to the shade of large trees, and spent a couple of hours
walking back and forth in serious meditation. About 10 o'clock--the
hour announced for the services--he returned to the camp where the
throng had assembled.
Some were lolling on the grass, others squatting on blankets, a few
listlessly leaning against the trees and others standing by the tent
openings. There were no benches, nor any roof to protect the
audience from the {251} fierce rays of the summer sun; but that did
not matter to men who had lived for years in the open, and were
accustomed to sleep under the canopy of heaven.
Lee took a stand where all might be within range of his voice, cast
his eyes over the unusual assemblage, opened the Bible and read in a
clear and penetrating voice a text from the gospels about the
crucifixion and death of Christ. Then he requested all to join with
him in prayer. Some who had not entirely forgotten their early
training, did so as best they could, while the more hardened sinners
nudged each other in the ribs and smiled--as if to say, "What
nonsense!"
The clergyman was not an eloquent speaker, but forceful and
impressive; and his subject was well suited to call forth all the
earnestness of his nature and the sincerity of his faith. He spoke
for an hour, and before half through had the complete attention of
every one in the audience; those who were at first inclined to scoff
soon lost their indifference and listened with profound attention to
every word. When at the close of his sermon, he quoted dramatically
the words, "Socrates died like a philosopher but Jesus Christ died
like a God," there was such a stillness as if all within hearing were
spellbound; and they were.
I have listened to great orators in the political arena, and on
various occasions to brilliant ministers of the gospel; but have
never known one to so thoroughly magnetize his hearers as Jason Lee
did the trappers, hunters and mountain men who composed that audience
away off in the wilds of the Snake River Country in 1834. It was the
first sermon ever preached west of the Rocky Mountains; and has
probably not been excelled to this day.
Wyeth put his full force at work erecting the rectangular trading
post, more generally known as Fort Hall, for his contemplated
fur-dealing activities. Although it remained only a short time in
the control of that enterprising American, and passed into the hands
of the Hudson's Bay Company upon the collapse of Wyeth's original
enterprise the following year, that frontier {252} establishment was
a very important factor in the great emigration to the Oregon Country.
A day or so after the Jason Lee sermon, the missionary company
departed for its intended destination, the Columbia River, where a
favorable location for a Mission was to be selected. The journey on
horseback for several hundred miles through rugged and broken country
was fraught with many difficulties and dangers, all successfully
overcome.
In September the tired and travel-stained little party arrived at
Fort Walla Walla on the Columbia, the chief trading post and
outfitting headquarters of the Hudson's Bay Company east of the
Cascade Mountains, where they were kindly received and hospitably
entertained by Mr. C. P. Pambrun, the official in charge. Here it
was decided to leave the horses and complete the remainder of the
journey by water; and fortunately a party of fur-hunters returning
with a cargo of pelts taken along the waters of the upper Columbia,
was then on the way to Fort Vancouver.
With these the missionaries were given passage, and floated down the
great river in their batteaux. The French-Canadian crew were expert
boatmen and a happy lot to travel with, joking and singing almost
without intermission; their care-free and mercurial natures never
seemed to be ruffled, no matter what obstacles interfered with their
progress. The annual fur-hunting expedition had been very
successful; and they were looking forward to a genuine celebration
upon their arrival at Fort Vancouver, a privilege given to them once
a year.
I shall never forget the mingled feelings of wonder and admiration as
our little party approached the mighty break in the upper levels of
the Cascade Mountains made by the river when, in prehistoric time, it
forced a passage through that gigantic range. The scenery was
superb--nothing grander can well be imagined--magnificent snow-capped
mountains, primeval forests clothed with foliage of various hues
reaching down to the water's edge, and numerous sparkling waterfalls
leaping over the sides of {253} perpendicular bluffs from elevations
of two to six hundred feet.
Occasionally immense basaltic pillars, rising from the bank of the
river to a great height, and some of most grotesque outlines, would
be encountered. There is nothing of the kind in the United States to
compare with that scenery of the Columbia.