Traveling The Oregon Trail With Our Family Bible (Christian Romance)

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It was like winding stairs in its descent and in some places almost perpendicular. The horses appeared to dread the hill as much as we did. They would turn and wind in a zigzag manner all the way down. We no sooner gained the foot of this mountain, when another more steep and dreadful was before us! The way was stony and we had to step over logs. In many places, it was covered with jumbles of black, broken rocks. And there was no water. It was beautiful. Just as we gained the highest elevation and began to descend, the sun was dipping behind the western horizon.

Beyond the valley we could see two distant mountains, Mount Hood and Mount St. These lofty peaks were of a conical form and separated from each other by a considerable distance. Behind Mount Hood, the sun was hiding part of his rays, which gave us a more distinct view of this gigantic cone. The beauty of this extensive valley contrasted well with the mountains behind us and, at this hour of twilight, was enchanting.

It certainly diverted my mind from the fatigue under which I labored. Mine made such lengthy strides in descending the mountain, that it shook my sides surprisingly! We stopped a day to prepare ourselves. Some of the men shaved their faces; some cut their hair. Husband and Mr. I tried to divert myself by doing mending for Husband and trying to write in my journal. Mother was so wise when she suggested I keep one. It had been my constant companion, my listening ear, my comfort, my friend all these months.

I was too excited! September 1, Our arrival day. You can better imagine our feelings that morning than I could describe them. I could not realize that the end of our long journey was so near. We arose as soon as it was light, ate hurriedly, and dressed for Walla Walla. We started out early, for all were anxious to reach our desired haven.


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Both man and beast alike appeared propelled by the same force. The fatigues of the long journey seemed to be forgotten in the excitement of being so close, and the whole company galloped almost all the way to the fort. Two days later, Brother and Sister Spalding arrived with the rest of the company, having made better progress than we anticipated. The animals all came in as well, except one horse that had been injured in packing and had entirely given out. Here we all were at Walla Walla through the mercy of a kind Providence, in health and all our lives preserved.

What a cause for gratitude and praise to God! My heart was ready to leap for joy at the thought of being so near the long-desired work of teaching the benighted ones a knowledge of a Savior, and for having completed that hazardous journey under such favorable circumstances. The Lord had been with us, and provided for us all the way. We proposed a day of mutual thanksgiving, and praised His name. I had reached my Promised Land. There was such an abundance of supplies available at Fort Vancouver, in fact, Narcissa wrote her parents, If anyone wished to come by land.

McLoughlin, Chief Factor for the HBC, tried to persuade the ladies to stay the winter as his guests at the fort while their husbands built suitable homes for them back at the mission sites. There seemed to be a fundamental difference between the two women and between the two missions. Judging from her writings, she viewed the heathen as quite apart from herself and her husband. Whether she was referring to the Cayuse or the other tribes of the region, one gets the feeling they were more of a curiosity and moral challenge to her than individual human beings.

She never successfully bridged the gap. And indeed, one gets the impression from her letters home that she never wanted to. Eliza Spalding, on the other hand, openly admired much of the Nez Perce culture and responded to the tribal people on an emotional and intellectual level that enriched both. In spite of their basic differences, however, both women missed the company of other white women. Was it a prime opportunity to forge deep familial bonds with the Cayuse?

Was it a verbal reminder that this territory was—and always would be—Cayuse territory, regardless of the changes the Mission might bring? She was only two years old. After that, according to tribal oral tradition and other missionaries along the Columbia River, the Whitmans hardened their hearts against much, including tribal ways. He had lived in their home since the beginning of the mission station, but when he was forced out, he said they had become very harsh, very strict and stern, and quick to punish. With an eye to this, he laid plans and acted.

Indeed, it might almost be doubted whether he felt half the interest in the natives that he did in the prospective white population. He wanted to see the country settled. Where there were scattered. Indian huts, he wanted to see thrifty farm houses. We do know that there was a progressive falling out between the Whitmans, many among the tribes, and other missionaries in the area. Still, to Oregon Trail travelers, they remained godsends. Their mission established at Waiilatpu served for eleven years as a resting and resupplying station for the emigrant wagon trains.

Then, in November , Narcissa, her husband, and some of her extended mission family were killed by a group of disenchanted Cayuse in an event that became known in the newspapers of the time and history books thereafter as the Whitman Massacre. See Chapter 4 for a detailed discussion. There were. They went to the States with the traders of the American Fur Co.

They were introduced to the Roman Catholics. And so at length their wishes became known to the public. This was the origin of all the missions in this western wilderness.


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  • Louis in search of religious instruction by white men? Tribal people already had systems of religious belief. Why might they seek the power of Roman Catholic or Protestant faiths? Could there be reasons other than—or in addition to—religious ones? I have very much attached to [Nez Perce] Richard Sak-ah-too-ah. I love to teach him, to take Narcissa Prentiss Whitman [39] care of him, and hear [the Nez Perce] talk.

    They seemed to be very much surprised and pleased to see white females; many of them had never seen any before. The next day, we passed all their villages. We, especially, were visited by them both at noon and at night; we ladies were such a curiosity to them. They would come and stand around our tent, peep in, and grin in their astonishment to see such looking objects. I was met by a company of matrons, native women one after another, shaking hands and saluting me with a most hearty kiss. This was unexpected and affected me very much. They gave Sister Spalding the same salutation.

    I have no doubt our greatest work is to be able to aid the white settlement of this country and help found its religious institutions. Providence has had its full share in all these events. It cannot be hoped that time will. What Americans desire of this kind they always effect, and it is. The Indians have in no case obeyed the command to multiply and replenish the earth, and they cannot stand in the way of others doing so. When Dr. How many tribal peoples traditionally had a farming lifestyle?

    This was the food on which we lived. I was not brought from a foreign country, and did not come here [as did the white man]. I was put here by the Creator. I knew these were white people, but at that time I did not know where they were going. I saw these wagons going through [our lands] nearly the whole summer, and my folks told me these people were going west [to] live there, and that I must not injure them in any way, and that I must have respect for them, because they were always kind to my folks.

    What are some dangers or misconceptions that might result from assuming all people of a certain cultural, ethnic, or religious group are the same? Take the viewpoint of a tribal person, talking about the Whites. Now take the viewpoint of a white missionary, talking about the Indians. Consider various tribes. Consider various Narcissa Prentiss Whitman [41] religious groups. How do you deal with one another effectively on the basis of misinformation, stereotypes, and hearsay? Whitman was a large, stately, fair skinned woman, with blue eyes and light, auburn—almost golden—hair.

    Spalding, the other lady, was more delicate than her companion, yet equally earnest and zealous in the cause they had undertaken. The Indians would turn their gaze from the dark haired, dark eyed Mrs. Spalding to. Whitman, and they seemed to regard them as beings of a superior nature. If I may be allowed the liberty of expressing my own opinion, I should say unhesitatingly that both herself and her husband were out of their proper sphere. They were not adapted to their work. That [Narcissa] felt a deep interest in the welfare of the natives, no one who was at all acquainted with her could doubt.

    But the affection was manifested under false views of the Indian character. Her carriage towards them was always considered haughty. It was the common remark among them that Mrs. What contributed still more. Her constitution was a good deal impaired toward the close of her labors. The two quotations above paint two differing pictures of the same woman. Is one true, and the other untrue? Could they both be true, given the ten years which separate them?

    Isaac Rose was a mountain man, whose observations may have been affected by the unexpected presence of white women and all they symbolized in the wilderness. Now consider Narcissa herself. Marcus Whitman was trained as a doctor, not a preacher. In saying yes with these stipulations, Narcissa may have been trying to secure her future somewhat, both in prestige and in material support, upon marrying this total stranger.

    Heathen was a term typically used at this time in missionary circles for any who did not profess to Christianity, particularly tribal peoples. Whitman had scouted the feasibility of what he called the Rocky Mountain Mission in the Oregon Country during his many months away from Narcissa. When he returned to New York State, he brought with him Nez Perce youths from the Rocky Mountains, tribal members he had used as interpreters on his travels. While it was not at all unusual in this era for brides to wear colors other than white, the choice of black was relatively rare.

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    Green ran a close second, followed by black. Louis in search of the Book, or Bible. Jackson, Narcissa subscribed to the Presbyterian doctrine. She was most eager to spread that particular interpretation of Christianity to the heathens before other doctrines could be established. Rushville, New York. There was no differentiation at this time between right and left footgear. Spalding was widely known to have been born illegitimate. This scandal condemned Spalding to the lowest stations of polite society. This he did, but he [44] doubtless was deeply affected by the experiences of his early years.

    What Narcissa did not and would not know was that Eliza Spalding had suffered through a debilitating stillborn birth less than a year before, from which her health never fully recovered. Such topics were not discussed in those days among any but immediate family members and then only with the greatest circumspection. That Eliza successfully completed the grueling journey was a testament to her faith and to her fortitude.

    Ibid, Tavern in this usage probably means an inn or overnight structure of some kind. There were yet occasional amenities of civilization at this point along the Platte River, as this was a well-known and welltraveled route by fur traders. The use of seeing the elephant dried buffalo dung as fuel became so commonplace on the treeless plains that the French coined a phrase for the chips, calling them bois de vache, or buffalo wood. Today, this type of high protein diet sets up a super-acidity in the body which is very hard on the kidneys and often results in diarrhea.

    In the long-term absence of nutrients usually gained from vegetables, fruits, and grains, the body can actually begin feeding upon itself to maintain function. As Eliza Spalding was less robust than Narcissa to begin with, one assumes her body was quicker to feel the impact of this all-meat diet. Richard and John are doubtless the names these tribal males were given upon their baptism into Christianity.

    In addition to the two Nez Perce tribesmen traveling with the Whitmans and Spaldings, there were apparently at least three others traveling with the American Fur Company, as well as the tribal peoples who made their appearance along the route. Now called Fort Laramie in Wyoming. Often called simply Rendezvous in what is now southwestern Wyoming. This was the annual American Fur Company congregation of fur trappers and traders, hundreds of tribal peoples, and revelers of every description.

    In addition to business, there was horse racing, gambling, visiting, drinking, contests, and hijinks of every kind—both harmless and lethal. Eliza Spalding wrote of it in her journal; Narcissa made no notation that survives. They were hungry for such attention and protracted their stay as long as possible. Those commonly called the Snakes from Lewis and Clark times through pioneer emigration were the peoples today called the Shoshones. The term Snake came from nontribal misunderstanding of the hand sign by which they designated themselves.

    This hand sign was misinterpreted as the movement of a snake; hence, the name. However, when the months are counted back from the birth of her daugh- Narcissa Prentiss Whitman [45] ter, Alice Clarissa, on March 14, , one realizes Narcissa most probably became pregnant sometime in early June. By the middle of July, she would have realized the fact.

    Whitman, My Journal, July 25 and August 6, , 16, In the book, Christian wandered a long and dangerous route, facing many moral dilemmas and temptations along the way. He was sustained by his faith, ultimately arriving at a Divine destination where he was amply rewarded for his steadfast commitment to his God.

    Walla Walla was the term used by Narcissa both for the fort at that location and the general vicinity in present day Washington State. The modern city by the same name grew up around the old fort grounds. Now called the Baker Valley, in far northeastern Oregon.

    The Oregon Trail Romance Collection

    This Lone Tree served as a guidepost for travelers long before the Oregon Trail migration. John C. Whitman, My Journal, August 28, , Thomas E. Perkins, who was the Methodist missionary at the Dalles Mission. Mary Richardson Walker, letter to parents upon arrival in Oregon Country. Carlson, Drury, Marcus Whitman letter to his father and mother, May 16, Isaac P. Jessett, 8, October 19, , Reverend H. To stake our claim to the Oregon Country, of course! To incite the common man to catch the fever and journey west.

    Settle there. Spit in the eye of the English, who still say the land is theirs. This nation aims to carry our boundaries from sea to sea, one day. Spain ceded her rights to the Oregon Country in the Treaty of Florida, twenty years ago. But the English. When Jefferson bought the Louisiana Purchase, doubling the size of America, England started getting nervous.

    Our destination was the Oregon Territory. Our aim was to settle. Some of our number sought health in the wilderness. Others sought the wilderness for its own sake. And still others sought a residence among the ancient forests and lofty heights of the valley of the river, Columbia. Pack mules, pack horses, and saddles were purchased and prepared for service.

    Our powder casks were wrapped in painted canvas; large oil-cloths were purchased to protect the casks and our clothing from the rains.


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    • With pack saddles girded upon the animals and our provisions snugly lashed upon them, we commenced in highest spirits. We had traveled only three miles when such torrents of rain fell upon us, we had to take shelter in a neighboring school house for the night. The storm howled over, and under, and throughout, sounding as though it would never stop. It was a dismal beginning. The next morning, however, dawned clear and pleasant, and we were early on our route. We crossed the stream called Big Blue8 about noon, and approached the border of Indian domain.

      We lingered over every object that reminded us we were still on the edge of civilization. It was painful to approach the last frontier enclosure—the last habitation of the white man—the last semblance of home. Finally, we came to the last cabin. We drank from the well and traveled westward.

      Before us were the treeless plains of green—beautiful, unbroken by bush or rock, unsoiled by plough or spade. After leaving this camp, it could be a week or even a fortnight10 before the buffalo would be in their accustomed gathering grounds. Until their return, we took account of our common stock: provisions, arms, ammunition, packs and pack saddles, and goods for trade with the Indians.

      We wondered and wondered again what excitements the future would hold in store. At last the provisions arrived, and we set our faces westward once again. Each night, a certain portion of the company unpacked the mules of the common-stock property, provisions, and ammunition. Meanwhile, others brought water, and still others put pots and frying pans to their appropriate duties.

      We ate upon the ground, each with a tin pint cup and a small, round, tin plate. It was the only game of any description we had seen since leaving the frontier. At one camp, two Indians came within close distance of our tents. They watched us narrowly, characteristic of caution, as they waited for our invitation to approach. The evening passed without incident. Then, when we left the ground, one of our men threw away a pair of old boots, the soles of which were fastened with iron nails. Our Indian visitors eagerly seized upon the boots and in their language of pantomime and grunts, congratulated themselves upon becoming the possessors of so much wealth.

      The days wore on, and the expressions of doubt grew more grave. We scoured the country all day, every day, in search of game. The country between us and the buffalo was constantly scoured by Indian hunters as well. We had little prospect of making a kill. So we put ourselves on short allowances and looked at our horses as the means for preventing starvation, if it came to that. The men grumbled mightily for the lack of food, and the abundance of mud. Until the day we found elk. Our animals were tugging lustily through the prairie mud, when the advance guard shouted: Elk!

      The hunters circled down-wind, around the point of the sharp ridge upon which the elk were feeding, so their scent would not be detected. Meanwhile, the rest of us moved quietly along the trail, hoping to divert the attention of the elk. Thus, the hunters crept undetected within three hundred yards of the game before they were discovered.

      Our hunters attempted pursuit, but as they had to ascend one side of the ridge while the elk were descending the other, they were at least four hundred yards behind their quarry. Ball after ball whistled after them, only to sleep in the earth instead of in the panting hearts which were their target. In the end, no elk were killed. Not even one. We spent that sleepless and hungry night trying to dry our drenched bodies and clothes, accompanied by a symphony of stomach rumblings and the howling of wolves. Thomas Jefferson Farnham [51] Have you ever seen a prairie storm?

      Ever felt its fury? On the 12th of June, we were assaulted by one the likes of which I could never have imagined. They looked like those that spawn tornadoes, rising and surging, and merging into dreadful masses over our heads. They struggled so terrifically against one another that they sounded like artillery.

      It was terrifying. Then suddenly, all was hushed. Not a breath of wind stirred. We looked up for the coming of the catastrophe surely foretold by that awful stillness. And at that moment, the clouds were ripped apart. Peal upon peal of thunder rolled around, and up, and down the heavens. Burning lightning bolts leapt from cloud to cloud above our heads; then from heaven to earth with such ferocity that the glare of one would scarcely fall upon the eye before another of still greater intensity would follow.

      We were stunned. Our animals madly huddled themselves together and became immovable. They heeded neither whip nor spur but turned their backs to the tempest and dropped their heads as if awaiting their doom. The hail and rain responded by slamming down upon them in torrents. It was a scene no pen can adequately describe.

      When, at last, the storm grew thin, we tried to pitch our camp. But all of our packs were sodden. That night, we huddled together for warmth as we ate our scanty suppers. We drank the water from the puddles and sought rest. Once again, we had to be content with spreading our wet blankets upon the mud, putting our saddles under our heads, and musing and shivering until morning. But in the morning—that and every morning on the over-watered plains—as the sun rose high in the heavens, so did the swarms of mosquitoes.

      The most gigantic and persevering mosquitoes that ever gathered tribute from humankind lighted upon us and demanded blood. Not by Nature, nor by man. And we reminded ourselves: Oregon was drawing closer with every sunrise. The nearer we drew to buffalo lands, the more evidence of Indian encampments we saw. Across Pawnee Fork, we visited the Caw22 camp. There appeared to be about 1, of them.

      It was their custom to make a yearly hunt here in the spring, lay in a large supply of dried meat, and return to their own territory23 in harvest time to gather their beans and corn, make their buffalo hides into tents, and prepare for a long winter. There they would build their wigwams and commence their labor. The work was divided between the males, females, and the children. The men killed the game. The women dressed and dried the meat and tanned the hides. The boy children of the tribe watered and guarded the horses and mules, changing their stakes from one spot of fresh grass to another.

      They crouched along the heights of camp to notice the approach of foes and sound the alarm. The girl children attended the women in their duties. We watched with keen interest as the Caws hunted buffalo. The weapons used in killing varied with the rank and wealth of each man. The high chief carried a lance with a handle six feet long, and upon that, a blade that measured another three feet.

      This in hand and mounted on a fast horse, he rode boldly to the side of the stampeding buffalo herd. He thrust it again and again toward the livers or hearts of as many beasts as he could, Thomas Jefferson Farnham [53] before his horse could no longer keep near them. Some of the lesser chiefs also had these lances, but their lances were all shorter than that of the head chief.

      The common Indians used muskets and pistols. They call them Medicines. But I have seen these— in the well trained hand of the Indian—a highly effective weapon, equal to the others in hunting buffalo. Astride a good horse, beside a bellowing band of these wild beef, many a naked hunter used bow and arrow with astonishing dexterity and success. Then they ran until every man had a buffalo at his side.

      Frequently, the arrows passed entirely through the running buffalo, hitting no bones on their course! They seldom failed. Then they loaded all upon their pack saddles, mounted themselves on top, and moved slowly back to camp. This cured the meat and dried it. Then they stretched the hides upon the ground and staked them and with a blunt wooden adze, hewed them into leather. Thus it had been since before memory and would continue until Pawnees or other enemies might interfere.

      Particularly when later, two of the most quarrelsome men in my company—released from the restraints of society and law—came to a sudden and unforeseen disagreement that resulted in the shooting of one. Still, it was thought best to send for the doctor who was traveling with some wagoners, eight miles ahead.

      In the meantime, the Caw high chief visited our patient and administered some sort of colored water and salve. The good doctor furnished us a carriage and advised us to travel on at once, for Comanches and Pawnees were on the prowl. We covered the bottom of the carry-all with grass and blankets, laid our invalid upon them, and bolstered him with yet more blankets so the jolting of the carriage would not roll him.

      I left my lieutenant29 in charge of the company, ordering him to follow after me as fast as camp could be broken. Then I took the reins of the carriage in my hands and drove out into the waning light toward the camp of the wagoners. The trail was continually crossed by deep paths made by the buffalo. These, and the tracks from the forty-odd wagons ahead, jolted the carriage at every turn. My patient groaned aloud. He screamed with pain. Then the rains began. And when the water streamed through the carriage upon him, he cursed the stars; consigned to purgatory the thunder, lightening, and rain; cursed the wagon.

      Then he fell back, silent, and ground his teeth until daylight.

      Seeing the Elephant: The Many Voices of the Oregon Trail - PDF Free Download

      Here was repeated, for the twentieth time, the quarrels of the company. Here was repeated the argument for—and against—who should be leader, who follower, and in what order. There were those who wanted to go on to Oregon and those who wanted to go back. Those who wanted to leave behind our invalid; those who swore they would carry him on their backs if need be. The gates were thrown open and Welcome to Fort William greeted us from the lips of our countrymen.

      Peace again—roofs again—safety and relief again—and bread. They seemed to be thoroughly initiated into Indian life. They wore moccasins decorated with beads and porcupine quills. Their trousers of deer skin were hung with long fringes from ankle to hip. Their splendid hunting shirts were made of the same material, with sleeves fringed from the wrist to the shoulder. The Bent brothers dressed like chiefs, and chiefs they were in the authority they exercised over this wild and lonely fortress.

      It was the solitary abode of men seeking wealth in the teeth of danger and hardship, rearing its towers over the uncultivated wastes of Nature like an old baronial castle that had withstood the wars and desolations of centuries. Indian women in their glittering moccasins and long deer skin wrappers,34 accompanied by their mixed-blood children, chattered now in Indian, now Spanish or English. The owners and their clerks and traders would sit in the shade, smoking the long native pipe, passing it from one to another, drawing the smoke into the lungs by short, hysterical sucks then blowing it out through their nostrils.

      Sometimes they sat around a crudely-fashioned table, spread with coffee or tea, jerked buffalo meat, and bread. Business within the walls of the post was done by the clerks and traders. The clerks were most commonly young gentlemen from various cities in the States, whose duty it was to keep the accounting books. The traders were generally selected from among those daring men who had traveled the [56] seeing the elephant prairie and mountain wilderness with goods or traps, and understood how best to deal with the Indians.

      Their duty was to weigh the sugar, coffee, powder, etc. Fifteen or twenty of them were employed to take the buffalo robes and animal pelts collected at the fort to market then to return with new stocks of goods for future purchase. Another party was employed in hunting buffalo meat in the neighboring plains. And still another, under the command of an experienced trader, was charged with going to some distant Indian camp to trade. Each party knew danger well. The Utahs37 and Cheyennes of the mountains near Santa Fe and the Pawnees of the Great Platte River came here to meet the buffalo in their annual migrations north.

      And on the trail of these animals followed the Comanches. If they engaged in battling out old feuds and grudges among themselves, the Bent brothers felt comparatively safe in their fortress. Every hour was pregnant with danger for the white man. Even our wounded invalid recovered astonishingly. We were loathe to leave the place, but Oregon would not wait. It was time to push on.

      How many would leave with me? The company disbanded. Property held in common was divided and each individual left to his own choices and resources.

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      Only three good men and the one wounded man chose my course. The others—the mutineers— turned their backs upon us and headed away. Five miles above Fort William, we came to Fort Puebla. It belonged to a company of American and Mexican trappers who, weary of the unpredictable life, had retired to this spot to raise grain, vegetables, horses, and mules for the trading posts.

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