From Oregon.

    Prof. Jno. Tweed has shown us a letter, dated March 5, he recently received from his brother Henry in Oregon, from which we make the following extract: "I am getting the Spectator; it is like home to me. We have a very dry winter. There is great excitement about the northern mines--everybody is going, except myself, in this (Jackson) County. Wheat is worth 75 cents a bushel; potatoes 2½ to 3 per pound; onions 5 cents per pound; and everything in the vegetable line in the same proportion."
Oquawka Spectator, Oquawka, Illinois, April 16, 1863, page 2


    Here we are in Oregon. How we came here, and a minute description of the country through which we have passed, would be more than any reasonable public could demand of one who--in the management of two women, four children, three men, seven horses and mules, one wagon, and one carriage--has his hands too full to devote very much time to letter-writing. In fulfillment, however, of a promise to write, I will endeavor to note some of the incidents that have transpired during our passage thus far.
    Nothing occurred during the trip to Yreka that might not happen to every teamster that hauls freight between the two points, as far as camp incidents are concerned. My Pegasus, being deprived of the use of his wings, by way of introduction to a life of travel, fell headlong to the earth before I reached Cottonwood, well nigh unfitting me for the further prosecution of the long and arduous journey that I now fully realize I had undertaken. Picking myself up, however, and surveying the wreck, it was soon decided that I had sustained no further damage than the loss of one boot-heel; but Pegasus was in a woeful plight--both knees skinned from the hoof to the shoulder, one side of his face bruised and mangled, and one eye bunged like a candidate for district attorney chastised for his temerity.
    After this, we jogged along much as anybody else would have done under similar circumstances, until we reached the summit of the Coast Range. Here, after the manner of the Sonora doctor [possibly a reference to "Sut Lovengood's Shirt"], I nailed a portion of the skirt of my nether garment--every thread and fiber of which has become familiar to the eye of an evil genius that has long pursued me--to the loftiest pine upon the summit, that she may gaze upon it in the solitary fastnesses of the mountain and believe me torn and devoured by wild beasts, and that thus I may elude her pursuit. Having performed these precautionary ceremonies, I proceeded, before bidding farewell to the waters of the Sacramento to unfurl the glorious old Stars and Stripes, which I waved lovingly, invitingly and devotionally over the heads of all the loyal people in all the land, and to flout it haughtily and defiantly is the face of every rebel and rebel-sympathizing Copperhead at a less altitude than that which I then occupied. These patriotic devotions at an end, we journeyed on until we arrived at Trinity Center, where we met our old-time personal friend, John R. Ridge, who informed us that he had been making a tour of the mountains, canvassing for his paper, the Trinity National, and writing descriptions of the magnificent mountain scenery that everywhere presents itself in "mighty desolation of grandeur." How much better for the world and for himself would it be if he would only abandon politics entirely, for which he has neither talent nor inclination, and devote his fine descriptive abilities to such subjects as these fine old mountains afford.
    As we approached the base of Scott Mountain, which might have been Olympus, my Pegasus began more and more to betray his mortal origin and condition, and compelled me to exchange him for an unpretending beast of earth-born antecedents, upon the back of which I did mount and ascend to the very apex of what, to my poetic fancy, had really grown into the sacred abode of Jupiter and his majestic subjects. Here, Jupiter and Juno being away from home, I bought a bundle of hay from Pan, or someone who, from the fact of his dealing in hay and having a crooked foot, I supposed to be him, and moved on down towards Scott Valley, arriving in the edge of which, I left the "caravansary" and went ahead under pretense of hunting for grass for camp. Passing Callahan's Ranch, my olfactories were regaled with the savory odors of roast beef, and remembering the scriptural declaration that "all flesh is grass," I halted, went in, and partook of as fine a dinner as ever a hungry pilgrim sat down to.
    On the 18th of July, being out eight days from Red Bluff, we arrived in Yreka, having, on the night before reaching them, encountered a terrible rain and thunder storm.
    I should like to describe some of my exploits among the "Webfeet" between Yreka and Roseburg, but time and space warn me to desist.
    Mount McLoughlin, a fine mountain that stands at the headwaters of Rogue River, and serves the same purposes and bears the same relation to that river that Mount Shasta does to the Sacramento, is worthy of mention. If I had time, as also the celebrated Table Rock, where was once fought a sanguinary battle with Indians. [Not true.]
Semi-Weekly Independent, Red Bluff, California, July 28, 1863, page 3  More from T.J.B. below.

FROM OREGON.

    Prof. J. Tweed has permitted us to take the following extracts from a letter that he lately received from his brother Henry, who is residing in Phoenix, Oregon:
    "We have no other currency but gold and silver. We have the metal in the ground. If the government had demanded the gold, in this state, for the national tax, and kept the greenbacks at home, the gold would have come without a murmur. As for me, I have only taken one g.b., and that was a V.
    "I will give you a little history of Rogue River Valley:
    "It is 35 miles in length, with an average width of about six miles. Three-fourths of the valley is all that is fit for farming purposes--the balance is worth nothing. The population in 1860 was 3,736, and it does not consume more than half that is raised in the valley. There are but few that follow the plow, for it will break up any man here to raise wheat for market. Oregon is not a corn-growing country, the principal crops being vegetables and wheat.
    "If any of my friends want my opinion of Oregon, say to them that it is a rough country--there is really nothing that makes it a desirable place to live in but health. It is the healthiest state in the Union for men, but not for women--the reason of the latter is, they don't exercise enough to enjoy life! The fair sex is so scarce that they feel independent, for they think, if a man don't keep them in a bandbox, that they can leave and get another. It is a God's truth--there are more widows made here by divorce than by death.
    "The following are prices current at this date--June 17:
    "Wheat, 50 cents a bushel.
    "Oats, 40 cents a bushel.
    "Potatoes, 5 cents a pound.
    "Turnips, 4 cents a pound.
    "Butter, 37 cents a pound.
    "Bacon, 15 to 20 cents a pound.
    "Eggs, 25 cents a dozen.
    "Groceries are so high that I can't tell the price--as I don't deal in the article."
Oquawka Spectator, Oquawka, Illinois, August 6, 1863, page 1


    When  I last wrote I was in the valley of the Umpqua, one of the finest tracts of land that my eyes, up to that times, had ever beheld. The great drawback to Umpqua is the want of a market; notwithstanding which the people are industrious, and apparently thrifty. Neat little white cottages everywhere cheer the eye of the wayfarer as he "plods his weary way" along the dusty roads, in very pleasant contrast with the ideas one forms of the Oregonians from stories that are told in California concerning them. In Rogue River Valley, as well as the Umpqua and a portion of the Willamette, the population will compare favorably with the people of California, or any other new state, in intelligence and enterprise. I met as many elegant and refined ladies and gentlemen in these valleys as I ever did in traveling the same distance in any state in the Union; and their hospitality, in most cases, is almost boundless. We have been feasted with apples, pears, cider, butter, milk, and in fact all the delicacies of the season, at very moderate charges, where charges have been made at all, and in many cases they positively refused to take pay. Moreover, I have yet to hear the first word of Chinook jargon (of which we used to hear so much in the early days of California) spoken in Oregon; and although we have traveled the entire length of the state from south to north, we saw but two Indians, wild or tame, until we arrived in Portland, where there are a few wretched specimens wandering about the streets.
    I have never seen the whole creation, but think I may safely say that all the world might be searched in vain for another valley equal in extent and fertility to the Willamette. It is longer and broader than the Sacramento. The soil is rich and productive from one mountain to the other. Fine farms may even be distinctly seen, with large fields of ripe grain, half way up the mountains. Pine and spruce timber, of the finest quality, grow on all the mountains and along the river. Yet, with all these advantages, the people are far behind those of Rogue River and the Umpqua in point of intelligence and enterprise. Their houses are not so good; their gardens and orchards not so neatly and tastily arranged; and the women and children are more slovenly dressed. These remarks apply only to a portion of the population, but that portion is in the majority. The reason of this discrepancy lies in the fact that the Willamette, being an old settled valley, is filled with a class of old "hardheads" from the backwoods of Missouri and other western states, who came here in early times to escape civilization that they saw crowding too fast upon them; and they and their posterity seem to still condemn everything that savors of enlightenment.
    Berries, hazelnut, grouse, trout, and such trash, are no more a temptation to the palates even of the children in our train than beans, cabbage and bacon are to those of Red Bluff. We have actually shot grouse within fifty feet of our horses' heads, wallowing in the dust of the road like so many chickens. To fill a six-quart bucket with blackberries, raspberries, or gooseberries, in the Calapooia Mountains and many places in this valley, is only the work of a few minutes; and it is no trouble to ride along on the wagon and pick as many hazelnuts as one wants to eat.
    Time and space again obtrude themselves between me and the accomplishment of my wishes, and I must forgo many things that I desire to say.
    The news from the mines is a little discouraging here, mainly on account of a scarcity of water. But we will never stop until "we see what we shall see."
    I had nearly forgotten to say that every time the stage brings along a dispatch bearing good news for the friends of the Union, it is a signal for the display of the American flag from hundreds of housetops. In the little city of Albany alone, we counted ten flags in honor of Rosecrans' victory over Bragg.
    We go from here to the Dalles by steamer tomorrow, and my next letter will probably contain something in relation to the mines, as I hope by this time next month to be in Bannock City.
Portland, Oregon, July 29, 1863.
Semi-Weekly Independent, Red Bluff, California, August 7, 1863, page 2  More from T.J.B. above.

    Those who have heard the accounts of travelers returning from Oregon and California can imagine the ideas I had of the personal character of the people with whom I would have to deal. They had been painted as rough, unrestrained and nomadic, generous while at the same time on the lookout for monetary gain. It was with these impressions that I went from Portland (a distance of 100 miles) to southern Oregon, the vast field of my future endeavors. I owe it to the truth, however, to point out that the facts far from corroborated my expectations. For ten years in Oregon and on the border of California, I have always found the people as civilized and sociable as the people of Canada; they equal or surpass them in activity and are at least as liberal. For example: the clergy and nuns travel on boats, railways and stages at half price, often for free. Everywhere they are the object of the courtesy and politeness of Americans, many of whom are not prejudiced. I am not speaking of religious bigots; they are always rude and intolerant. There are twice as many of them in Oregon as there are in California.
    It was November 23, 1863 that I took possession of the Jacksonville mission. The chapel was small, as was the assembly that came together for services. The
southern Oregon mission is 200 miles in length by 150 wide. As you see, it would make a vast diocese. You can see that the missionary must be a traveler, ordinarily covering one thousand miles in the space of a year, if he wants to visit his scattered sheep twice.
    Within a week, the missionary once traveled two hundred seventy-four miles
to minister to two dying patients.
     Here are some details on the Jacksonville mission: The main city of southern Oregon is incorporated; it is also the principal town of Jackson County; it is located on the edge of a beautiful valley and is the center of a district rich in mines, cattle and agricultural products. Its population is more than 1,000 souls; the rest the county has 6 or 7,000. There are two churches in Jacksonville, the Catholic church and the Protestant church, and in addition several schools, among them St. Mary's Academy for  girls, under the direction of four Sisters of the Holy Names of Jesus and Mary. Rich merchants, lawyers and even workers have beautiful  residences and shops. Two newspapers are published in Jacksonville, each following the colors of its political party.
     Sixteen years ago there was very little mention of the Catholic religion in these parts: no priest, no church, and only a small group of Catholics. Some priests from
Oregon and California visited while passing through the young village of Jacksonville and administered the sacraments to those who were there. In 1858 and 1860 Archbishop Blanchet also evangelized this colony as a simple missionary. In 1858, under the direction of His Grace, the Most Reverend Mr. Croke, now Vicar-General of San Francisco, built a small church under the patronage of St. Joseph. Although modest, it is well maintained. When decorated on holidays it is the glory of Catholics, and Protestants call it a pretty theater.
    Rev. Fierens, now Grand Vicar and Curé of Portland, administered St. Joseph parish for nearly two years, and all the old parishioners remember his zeal and piety.
François Xavier Blanchet, Dix Ans sur la Coté du Pacifique (Ten Years on the Pacific Coast), 1873, page 38

    ED. APPEAL: Since leaving Marysville, I have kept busy moving and working in our Temperance cause among the youth, and doing all in my power at the same time for the old folks; and we are having some encouragement and success. The Sons of Temperance have recently been effecting much good among the citizens in many of these northern mining districts. In some of the towns a most happy change is witnessed and acknowledged by all. Yet it is true that the great and effectual change can only be brought about by the proper training of the youth. And this will be done when the attention and judgment of our citizens can be fully reached, and aroused to action. The cause is really the great cause of the age--for intemperance is everywhere effecting results lamentable in the extreme--as is witnessed and admitted by all who are sensible and sober.
    Many of our liquor dealers, I am happy to say, show a willingness to encourage my work among the youth; and it is a rare thing to find anyone willing openly to oppose the object. I am happy to say the people are treating me with kindness and respect, and some of them show a thoughtfulness in affording a mite of pecuniary encouragement to the cause.
    The natural scenery in the northern portion of California is truly varied, and much of it sublime and grand beyond description. In the way of mountains, Trinity and Scott and Siskiyou are well calculated to leave large impressions. There are a number of beautiful valleys, too, settled and cultivated--grain, vegetables, fruit, butter, cheese, fowls, fine horses, fat cattle, sheep, hogs, honey--everything needed--nice families, smart children, and general good health. Mr. Redding, in Little Shasta Valley, told me he was the last bachelor left there. They are as nearly independent of everybody else in these valleys as any people I have ever seen.
    When in Little Shasta Valley, you seem to be near the base of the world-renowned Shasta Peak, though it would require some 25 miles travel to get round and up the accessible side to the pinnacle; and they say the ascent cannot be made this early in the season. This peak is now a grand sight towering as it does, in its snowy grandeur, above every object in the land.
    The Table Rock in this valley is a remarkable formation, having the Soda Springs near its base. [This is a false assumption.]
    In passing over the Siskiyou, the noted Pilot Rock lies on your right, and is said to be seen from the ocean. Crossing over Siskiyou Mountain, the Rogue River Valley opens on the vision in the distance, with its celebrated Table Rock, and other striking objects. The valley itself is delightful, containing many neat houses, fine farms, and orchards already bending under their loads of fruit.
    The road all the way from Shasta to Jacksonville, Oregon, is in fine condition; and to the sober, contented traveler is rendered a perfect pleasure ride--seated, as we are, in the California Stage Company's easy coaches, with horses well trained and spirited, and fine as care and money can make them; and with drivers sober, careful and accommodating. Indeed, the intelligent public traveling over this line cannot fail to be impressed with the fact that many thanks are richly due the company for the energy and pains they have exhibited in rendering traveling so easy, safe and rapid over such a country and such a distance. The heaviest portion of the road, I am informed, was constructed by the company with an enormous outlay of money--that portion, for instance, over the Scott Mountain--which is the greatest triumph in the way of road making in the state.
    My calculation is to return from this place, visiting the different settlements on my way down.
Marysville Daily Appeal, Marysville, California, June 18, 1863, page 3


Oregon Sentinel, Jacksonville, July 8, 1863, page 2


    Col. Drew, with an escort of thirty-three men, under command of Lieut. White, and a number of citizens of Jackson County, left Camp Baker on the 7th instant, for the purpose of exploring the country east and north of Mount McLoughlin, and for the purpose of finding a suitable situation for establishing a military post. Our first camp was on Butte Creek, fifteen miles from Camp Baker. Here Judge Prim came very near being bitten by a huge rattlesnake. This camp we named Rattle Snake.
    July 8th we camped on Rancheria Prairie, near the place where the Ledfords' party were murdered by the Indians in the spring of '59. The distance we came today was about twenty miles.
    July 9th we crossed the mountain on the trail taken by the Pathfinders in the spring of 1862, under command of Col. Ross, and soon come upon places where they had done considerable work, in the way of building bridges and sinking mining holes. Four miles from the summit, on the west side, we came to a beautiful lake, on the north side of which we camped. This is called Summit Lake, and is about four miles long. It reminded me somewhat of the description given of the "Lake of Como.'' The distance traveled today was about fifteen miles.
    July 10th we traveled down the west side of the lake and continued descending towards Klamath Lake Valley. From our camp at Summit Lake, to the foot of the mountain, it is about ten miles. We continued along the west side of the lake, traveling in a northerly direction, for about eight miles, and camped. The distance traveled today was about eighteen miles. In descending the mountain we occasionally caught a glimpse of the lake and valley below; the scenery was beautiful.
    July 11th traveled about twelve miles north and then changed our course to the east, across the head of the lake. Here we crossed a bridge over Martin's Creek, built by Col. Ross' party; eight miles further we came to Wood's River, where we camped.
    July 12th we had a fine mess of fish for breakfast; built a raft this morning and by eleven o'clock we were all on the east side of the river, safe and sound; four miles further and we came to the east side of the valley, where we camped on a beautiful stream of pure, cold water. Col. Drew crossed the stream and traveled down some four or five miles further, where they found La Lake's camp, but the old man was not at home. It appears from what we could learn from the Indians who were left in charge of the camp that they were holding a council of all the tribes in the valley east of where we were, making preparations for declaring war against the Pit River Indians. The Colonel continued his investigations down the east side of the valley until he struck the alkali soil, when he returned to camp.
    July 13th we have fish in "copious effusions." Mount Shasta could be seen very plainly from this point. It lay directly south of us. We traveled along the valley in a northerly direction, crossed several branches running into Wood River, the banks of which were high and dry, and camped in a fine grove of trees near the center of the valley. Here we left a number of men who had taken the mumps.
    July 14th crossed the head of the valley and struck an Indian trail running west over the mountain, and thinking that it might be a shorter cut through the mountains towards Rogue River Valley and that it might possibly connect with the wagon road, we ascended the mountain and camped about eight or ten miles from the valley. So far the trail has been very good.
    July 15th after following the trail a number of miles it gave out entirely and we traveled for some time on our own hook until we brought up all standing by a deep canon. We retraced our steps a few miles and camped.
    July 16th we continued our retreat in "good order." Our citizen friends, being anxious to return home, concluded today to take a shortcut and left us at the place we camped on the 14th. We have since learned that they had a hard time of it, and at last were compelled to beat a retreat and take the old road.
    July 17th we rested on our oars and caught fish.
    July 18th we turned our faces towards home and camped at the foot of the mountain.
    July 19th we crossed the mountain and camped on Lick Prairie.
    July 20th we reached Camp Baker.
    Klamath Lake Valley is one of the finest grass countries I have ever seen. The water is pure and cold; the fish are splendid. Game does not appear to be plenty at this season of the year. The soil is light and dry, and appears to be formed of pumice stone, of which the entire upper part of the valley is covered. The Indians are good looking, treacherous, bloodthirsty and thieving. They are a noble specimen of "Lo, the poor Indian!" Persons wishing to visit the valley should be very cautious and keep a close lookout for their "har."
Oregon Sentinel, Jacksonville, July 22, 1863, page 2


Oregon Sentinel, Jacksonville, October 10, 1863, page 3


    Ed. Sentinel: Again, in the capacity of a correspondent, I indite you an epistle, from this fertile section of our unrivaled infant state.
    As much attention is now bestowed on this beautiful valley, by those who are in quest of a select and permanent homestead, and by those who are otherwise interested in the advancement of our flourishing settlement, to the former, if not to the latter, I trust the following observations may not be expressed in vain.
    The country which forms the subject of this letter is located upon the Coquille River, a beautiful tidewater stream, winding its circuitous course, in all the grandeur of Nature, in a westerly direction, through the ever-verdant and unsurpassed valley which bears its name, and flowing into the Pacific Ocean, north of Port Orford, in latitude 43° 84'.
    Prior to the year 1858 little was known of the vast and extensive resources which, in the valley and mountains of the Coquille, lie concealed from the world. In the year above named, an enterprising colony of Baltimoreans, in quest of homesteads on the Pacific's golden slope, upon the representations of those who had preceded them, directed their course and finally pitched their tents along the romantic and picturesque banks of this poetical stream. The unremitting and indefatigable toil of the past few years has fully convinced them of the wisdom of their first choice, and judicious selection of this valley as their future home.
    As the length of this article will admit of but few words, they must be "multum in parvo"; therefore, to begin and conclude:
    The principal advantages and inducements of this country, that first demand the attention of the inquiring emigrant, are, first: the proximity, by water, to the great
commercial metropolis of the Pacific Coast, San Francisco; secondly, its tidewater facilities, presenting a smooth and placid river navigable for vessels of large capacity for the distance of sixty miles, extending into the heart of the valley, especially of the present main settlement, thereby affording the benefits of an easy and convenient transit, the value of which those residing there can amply testify to; thirdly, the unparalleled fertility of the soil, the mammoth products of which, to be appreciated, must be seen; fourthly, the healthy and salubrious climate, made more agreeable by the gentle sea breezes, imparting vigor and animation truly delightful, and known only to those who daily enjoy it. As water is generally pure in all parts of Oregon, with few exceptions, it is preeminently so here, gushing in unrestrained violence in all its crystal purity as it leaps and tumbles from rock to rock, seeking the limpid and pearly-bed rivulet, to be conducted to larger channels.
    Fifthly: The lumber resources are here in all their variety, comprising, among the most prominent, in proper order of quantity and quality, the myrtle, maple, ash, red and white cedar, white, red and yellow fir, yew, manzanita, madrone, spruce, etc., etc. The country abounds in cedar in all its different phases, and at convenient distances from admirable water powers contiguous to the main river. Of the high order and value of the unrivaled myrtle, the public need not be reminded. On this department of our country's wealth, alone, an entire volume could be written.
    Coal of a superior quality has been discovered in different localities. Gold of a very coarse grain has for some years been successfully and profitably mined, at the mouth and on the source of this river. No country in the world can rival this as a berry-bearing land, the hillsides of which for miles are literally strewn with the most delicious of this enticing fruit--blackberries, whortleberries (red, black and blue), salmonberries, raspberries, salalberries, serviceberries, and strawberries comprising the most important varieties.
    Game abounds in the mountains and prairies in superabundance, among which the far-famed elk, in all their glory, rank foremost. With fish of numerous varieties in the streams to suit the palate of any epicure, and, in the spring and fall of the year, the immense hordes of wild geese, swans, ducks, etc., that congregate on the lower river, I might well exclaim, where is the country to excel this? or with equal justice ask, where is the land as favored with Nature's choicest blessings?
    As the communication with San Francisco by sea has been so convenient, little attention has been directed towards a wagon road communication with the Umpqua Valley. Recently, however, some efforts are being made to convince the public of all classes of the inestimable importance of this laudable enterprise. As but 30 miles of the proposed route require the construction of a road, acknowledged by all to be so valuable an acquisition to Southern Oregon, which the "Coquillians," with their limited wherewithal, or pecuniary aid, cannot adequately accomplish, amply would its construction and transit repay the investment of corporation capital.
    A further continuance of this letter may exclude the publication of other valuable matter. I am, therefore, constrained to add a concluding remark: To those who entertain the slightest distrust of the veracity of the preceding article, I would advise them in all candor and disinterestedness to visit this section and satisfy themselves, pro or con.
    Should there be any displeased with the great resources Providence has so lavishly bestowed, only a portion of which are so laconically enumerated in the foregoing, I would console myself with the droll reflection that there are many who, were they installed in Paradise, would, in a complaining voice, solicit a description of the Eternal Regions.
Oregon Sentinel, Jacksonville, October 31, 1863, page 4

Last revised October 24, 2024