Mr. Editor:
    In my last letter I left you among the Pueblo Indians. We go on through this sandy desert country where agricultural interests depend solely upon irrigation. The Mexican denizens of this region are too shiftless to irrigate much, therefore very little is produced.
    We soon reach Socorro, a mining town of 1000 inhabitants. This little town supports two daily papers, and its people are interested in the rich silver mines which are located in the Socorro Mountains a few miles north of the village. Here are three silver smelting furnaces which produce large quantities of bullion. The editor of one of the papers told us that the place was soon to have a treat in the way of an artistic hanging of one or two enterprising citizens who had been too handy with firearms. There are several more placed along this line that ought to have a few such holidays on general principles.
    Monday morning found us at Deming, 1136 miles from Kansas City and 1208 miles from San Francisco. After an early breakfast, which was cooked by a pigtailed Chinaman, we went to work to '"do" the town. This place is all new. Two years ago there were only a few houses. Now there is a busy, driving population of 1200. The country is a dry, barren plain for many miles around. The nearest stream of any account is the Rio Grande, 70 miles east. Though dry and barren, the country has some attractive features. The lofty mountains far in the distance, with here and there an isolated peak nearer us, like huge rocks in the ocean, present to our view a grand and novel scene. I advise all who go by this route to. stop here a few hours. You will see here many features of nature nowhere else to be seen. You will wonder what the people do for a livelihood. They work in the mines, some of which--especially the Georgetown mines, 20 miles north--are very rich. We saw many large wagons laden with rich silver ore, which is shipped to the Socorro smelters. We were fortunate enough to find Mr. McGregor, who presented us with some rich specimens and told us many interesting things about silver mining.
    Besides the mining interests there are large cattle ranges at the foot of the mountains. Many railroad employees reside here. Many goods are sold here--at fabulous prices. Dimes are the smallest coins in circulation. The prices of town lots run from $100 to $1500. There are but three houses in the place that the rise in real estate has not paid for. Speculation is the rule, and Mr. Byron (the postmaster) and Dr. Proctor have struck it rich in the real estate deal. The saloon interests certainly flourish, and judging from the specimens of their handiwork seen on the streets the whisky must have come from Indiana and have been charged with additional "snakes" on the way. Wages run from $2 to $6 per day. Board from $6 to $10 per week. There are many idle hands here now but in the spring there will be employment for them. Young man, go not to Deming unless you know something of mining, herding, or are a mechanic or capitalist.
    Water is found at a depth of 40 to 60 feet; it is alkaline but much less so than that for many miles eastward. Where it has been used for irrigating purposes the land has proved extremely fertile. He who goes here to farm with a capital sufficient, sinks artesian wells, and will work, has a source of wealth that will pay better than any gold or silver mine in all New Mexico. If you buy a ton of coal you will have to part with thirteen big buzzard dollars. You can get mesquite wood--almost equal to coal--at two dollars per load. This tree has a small shrubby top and a large long root which the Mexicans dig out and use as their only fuel. Dig wood! Yes, you will dig it here or do without. When the pretty Mexican lady wants to do a day's washing, she digs her soap out of Mother Earth in the shape of soap-root--a variety of the yucca.
    I have had much to say of Deming and its surroundings because it is typical of a vast region. We left at 3 p.m. on the 24th and on the 25th at an early hour we greeted with "Merry Christmas!" the pretty lady who sold us some nice fresh bread at Benson, 25 miles from Tombstone. He who goes over this part of the road after night wants to "look a leedle oud" for the nice young man going west who so very, very kindly asks you off to drink with him or just to "take a cigar" at  the gin mill across the street. Be ye sure that he will meet a friend who will very kindly assist him in "standing you up" for all you are worth, and then bid you goodbye. Stay on your train and appoint two or three to look out for "beats" while the others of your party sleep.
    From Benson we ran to Tucson in time for dinner. We had lettuce, radishes, young onions, and tomatoes fresh from the vine--at Christmas. Think of this, ye shivering Hoosier! After dinner we "took in the town," keeping on the shady side of the streets. 'Tis a grand old town where perpetual summer reigns, where the Mexican flourisheth like a green bay tree. He can here live like his ideal king at a very little outlay of physical exertion--and he does it. He builds his house of mud and if he is not too very lazy he makes a good one not wholly without beauty and one that will endure in this dry climate for a hundred years. The very best houses here are adobe. They are cool and pleasant, and some of those belonging to the richer people are grandly furnished. Tucson is a good place to be--in the winter. The lands here are very fertile and easily irrigated in many places. One hundred miles north of here large tracts of land are being irrigated, and he who will go there and homestead a rancho need have no fears for the future crop; nor will he be sickly. His only fear should be that earth's bounty will cause him to become too lazy to gather what she bestows.
    After we had seen the town, examined some Indian curiosities and seen the Papago Indian warrior, squaw and papoose, we sat down in the shade (Christmas, too) and talked to an entertaining old Missourian until time for our iron horse to move on, and  here, Mr. Editor, you may, in imagination, sit with your cold, frozen patrons, in this refreshing shade until your wandering quill-driver has time to go on with his story of the West.
The Plain Dealer, North Vernon, Indiana, January 31, 1884, page 2


    Mr. Editor: My last letter dated at Jacksonville, Oregon, left our readers at Tucson with the thermometer at 80 degrees above zero, in the shade, on Christmas. On leaving here we cross the Cruz River. This river had not a drop of water in it, however, where we saw it. The chief wealth of this country is in the mines in the surrounding mountains. Gold, silver; antimony, copper, bismuth and cinnabar are here found. A few miles out we found a few farms which showed us what is possible by irrigation. Mesquite forests attract our attention by their novel appearance. What would the Mexican be without mesquite? He don't amount to much even with it. But he will surprise you at the amount of wood he will pack on a janet or a mule. Another feature east and west of Tucson is worthy of notice; viz, the cactus parks. Here you will find this plant in great variety and strange forms.
    The conductor told us that many specimens of the columnar variety attain a height of 80 feet. What a magnificent house plant that would make. Besides nobody would injure it by handling it. No sign of "hands off" needed.
    On the morning of the 27th we arrived at Yuma, on the Colorado. Country people and the surroundings very much the same as had been seen for the last thousand miles. The guidebook says that Yuma is below the sea level. I don't know how that is, but I do know that the weather was very warm here. The gardens here were flourishing, and the people seem to enjoy themselves as well as such very lazy people well could. Some of us took a walk over the little mud town and crossed the. river to Old Ft. Yuma and the Indian camp beyond. The fort contained no troops, and very little else of interest, neither are the red men very attractive. They are not models of cleanliness, and their dress is painfully scant. Soap certainly is at discount among these wards of Uncle Sam. We made no acquaintance here and when our two hours expired we crossed over into the Golden State behind our iron horse without much sorrow. Why Congress should investigate Huntington for trying to steal half of this country is beyond of ken. We all agreed that he could have our share free of charge. All day we rode over another very large addition of the same old cactus desert and slept soundly at night, knowing that we lost nothing worth seeing. We arose early on the 27th, for we were now entering a region where the orange and the vine flourish.
    A gentleman who came aboard at 4 a.m. was pretty thoroughly pumped for all he knew about the region we were passing through. Fortunately (for us) he was full. At 5 o'clock the guard shouted "Los Angeles," and then the excitement ran high. No time was lost in idle waiting over our steaming breakfast at the U.S. Hotel. No wonder this place was called Los Angeles, for surely the angels look down upon its loveliness and smile. We spent our time walking its beautiful streets unconscious of the flight of time until the clock in the court house tower loudly called our hour of departure. How we would like to have walked longer under the shadows of the
orange and lemon trees! The roses and geraniums never looked half so beautiful to us as now but our time was limited--and so was our tickets--so we had to leave for San Francisco. Reader, if you can never take but one trip west see Los Angeles.
    When we started onward from here we found that nearly all of our people had been left behind, and while we almost wept to part with many of them yet we could but congratulate themselves on the choice of a western home they had made. Why didn't you locate there did you say? Because I didn't have cash enough. It would surprise you were I to tell you what real estate is worth here. Write to any real estate agent here and see. The drawback to this country is its exceedingly dry climate. They don't expect more than 10 inches of rain per year here and often get less. Ten inches will ensure good crops. Irrigation is the anchor of hope. What large pumpkins! They raised one here last year that a man sat in one half while his friends turned the other half over him and he had plenty of room. Fact! Because I was told this by a Quaker preacher and Quaker preachers won't lie. I'll stand by that preacher, for he lives in Oregon, and that of itself would establish his veracity. Boys, you ought to see Los Angeles County watermelons. Why bless you they have them at Christmas fresh from the vine. Just make a note of this, boys, in your geographies. Next week I will tell you more about California.
The Plain Dealer, North Vernon, Indiana, February 14, 1884, page 2

    Mr. Editor: I promised the boys to tell them more of California this week, and to redeem this promise I go on with the outline of my tour.
    We leave Los Angeles with orange groves, her roses and watermelons and take our course down the San Fernando Valley. For several miles we ride through a lovely country where the people are busy planting garden and field crops. Hundreds of Chinamen wearing their chip hats are at work in the fields. Garden making at Christmas is a novel sight to a Hoosier, but long before we got to this point we had all agreed to be surprised at nothing. In all this region crops are planted at any time the farmer chooses. The soil is of the very best, and if the water can be had crops never fail. He who is prepared to irrigate is absolute master of the situation. There is much land here, however, that is in a hopeless prickly pear desert.
    Soon we reach the mountains and see some fine scenery and pass through one of the longest tunnels on the continent. At Newhall we leave the small remnant of our party with only one exception, but then others joined us and Mr. Baughess and your correspondent soon had made some new acquaintances and were supplied with a good partner for the rest of our journey. I got the Quaker preacher and Baughess got an Arizona miner who was going to Seattle to make a fortune speculating in real estate. Hope he will, for we found him to be very much of a gentleman.
    A "masher" who joined us here soon began to make a mash on a little crosseyed "mashess" from Los Angeles. 'Twas a success, and the preacher and I took notes in the mashing business for the next two days. Just how far the business would have gone the world would never know, as we complained to the conductor and he separated the two turtledoves.
    All the afternoon we rode over a perfect desert where only tree cactus and sagebrush grow. Many of the cactus trees are twenty feet high. They assume a great variety of forms, and the scene is very novel. Very little of this Mojave (Mo-hav-va) desert is of any value for agricultural purposes. There is one part south of the railroad that contains an abundant supply of spring water and will perhaps soon be developed. The real estate companies that own it are doing a generous part by the printer, judging by the printed advertisement. A little good country is badly needed here, so let us hope that the company will succeed in selling the land to a thrifty community of farmers. At dark we reach Mojave and are told that only a few more miles of desert remains.
    The night was foggy and dark, and very reluctantly we retired. We wanted to see the Tehachapi Mountains and loop by moonlight. These mountains are very wild and romantic. Here you will find some of the grandest displays of engineering skill in railroad building in the world. The great "loop" is the [illegible] and shoots through the Tehachapi tunnel. After many windings and ten more tunnels we reach the San Juan Valley.
    He who expects to find the whole of the San Juan Valley a good farming country will find himself mistaken when he comes to travel over it. The fact is that until he gets to within about 160 miles of San Francisco he will see nothing but a semi-desert. From this on is one of the great bonanza wheat farm regions of the state. Wheat here is reckoned by the square mile rather than by the acre. When we crossed the country it was very dry and only a few of the famous eight-horse gang plows were seen. Wheat is sown here from October to March and cut in July and August. When they have rain enough the crops are good, and when the rain fails they get nothing. They are likely to have a drought at least once in three years, and frequently have them oftener. Wheat raising in a large part of this country is a very risky business. As we near San Francisco the towns get thicker and larger. Many of them are models in neatness. The blue gum (eucalyptus) tree is extensively used for shade trees, and a prettier one could not be had. Night overtook us at Lathrop and after a few amusing adventures with some tramps who tried to do some petty thievery during the night we reached Oakland pier at an early hour in the morning. The fine steam ferry, The Piedmont, soon carried us across the great bay to the western metropolis, San Francisco.
    After a few hours' stay here I took the train for San Jose to spend New Year's with some old Indiana friends.
    This town is 47 miles south from S.F. and is located in the heart of the world-famed Santa Clara Valley. It has a population of 20,000 whites besides an unknown number of Chinese. From a sanitary point of view the Santa Clara Valley seems to be perfect. No more so, perhaps, than many other parts of the state. Here you will see the most robust men and the most handsome women in the world. It seems to be the woman's paradise, for health. Owing to its exceedingly dry climate farming is a very uncertain business. Great attention is paid to fruit culture. You will here see thousands of acres of fruit trees and vines. Fruit growers have drought, borers and scale bugs to contend with, yet notwithstanding all these business is assuming vast proportions. One wonders what will be done with all the fruit when the tens of thousand acres now being planted come to bearing age. Those who have carefully studied the problem tell us that were all the land adapted to this business, in both California and Oregon, planted in fruit the markets of the world will readily take it at fair price. California excels Oregon for some kinds, while Oregon excels California in others. Altogether it is about even.
    After a few days with my friends I return to "Frisco." The good ship Mary D. Hume was at the wharf and was billed to sail at 5 p.m. of the same day, giving me only a few hours again in the great and beautiful city.
    I took passage for Crescent City, and we spread our sails and put on all the steam we had and sailed out of the Golden Gate with the cry of Crescent City in 36 hours! All went well for 18 hours, and the captain told us that we would reach our port in 35 hours! Alas for human ignorance. The barometer began to behave badly and almost before we knew it the storm was upon us and for many hours we were at the mercy of wind and waves. We were lashed and tossed by the storm until it began to be a very serious question whether we would ever get to Crescent City or any other port. Many of our passengers divided their meals with the fishes. I expected to have to cast up my account with Neptune, but he kindly excused me. We didn't get to Crescent City at all, and at the end of 72 hours we very gladly went into Smith River 12 miles up the coast. Nobody objected, and all who were residents of that place were very willing to go overland.
    We all slept aboard that night and spent Sabbath with the good proprietor of the Del Norte Hotel. Smith River Valley is a peculiar region.
    I will tell you about that place and Rogue River, Oregon, Valley, next week.
Feb. 18, 1884.
The Plain Dealer, North Vernon, Indiana, February 21, 1884, page 6


    Scott Morris is preparing to go west to grow up with the country. He has purchased 160 acres of land in Jackson County, Oregon, and will move there soon.
"Butlerville Items," The Plain Dealer, North Vernon, Indiana, February 21, 1884, page 6


    Scott Morris, of Butlerville, will sell his household and kitchen furniture on Tuesday, February 26th, also one cow and farming implements. He starts for Oregon soon afterwards. Go to the sale.
The Plain Dealer, North Vernon, Indiana, February 21, 1884, page 7


    After an unexpected interruption I continue the series of letters on the Great West.
    The types made me say San Juan instead of San Joaquin Valley. He who locates the San Juan Valley in the part of California over which I traveled is geographically mistaken.
    We were at Smith River when I left off. From here we will go on; but before going let us look at this valley for a moment. When I saw it (Jan. 6th) grass was green and the weather was fine, barring the rain. The raining capacity of this region for rain is remarkable. Some say it rains thirteen months in the year, but that is probably a western exaggeration used to convey the idea of a long rainy season.
    Lumbering and dairying are the leading occupations, although the salmon fisheries are quite important. Redwood is the leading timber. Such trees! A man never fully realizes his littleness until he stands beside one of these gigantic redwoods. I saw thousands of them here that would cut 100,000 feet of lumber to the tree. This is a living, literal fact, for I measured some of them and know just what they will cut. You can figure it up for yourself: Length, 200 feet; diameter at the base, 16 feet; top diameter, 8 feet. There are many thousand acres of this timber on the coast of California. From Cape Mendocino to the state line of Oregon the redwood is king. The belt extends from the coast to the crest of the Coast Range and often beyond. But the timber is fast disappearing; giant saw mills abound wherever there is a stream capable of carrying the logs. Timber speculators have gobbled up nearly all of this timber. The government has been robbed of more millions of acres of land here than the Star Routers ever got of dollars. Nothing is said, however, because the dear people do not raise a howl. Steal a few millions of dollars and great is the yell; steal few million acres of valuable timber and nothing is said by our virtuous authorities.
    Dairying at Smith River is a great business. The grass is green in winter and the cows are dried up and fed hay liberally. In summer the grass is dry and the cows are fed no hay and are vigorously milked. A Hoosier feels as if the world had gone crazy when he sees it after this fashion. The reason is apparent. The grass grows in the wet season of the year and contains very little milk- and flesh-producing qualities, and vice versa. You may see cows here by the hundreds. A hundred cows on a ranch is nothing unusual. Some ranches have twice that number. The butter made here "gilt edge," and commands the highest price. It is churned without destroying the grain, and it is packed for the winter. The rectangular and box churns are used exclusively. These people have learned that the principle of these churns is the only correct one. I wonder how long it will take the stuff called butter, in the Jennings County markets, to learn this one fact. When will your people throw all beater churns to the dogs, make or buy a common-sense churn, and take the advice of dairymen who know something, and make decent butter. I am not engaged in the sale of churns, but
I do know what a churn ought to be, and I further know that one-half the butter that the good wives of Old Jennings send to market is not for--wagon grease. Excuse this little scolding, ye fair ones, and--improve your butter.
    Smith River and its largest tributary, Rowdy Creek, literally swarm with salmon in the spawning season May and June. Large quantities are taken here, canned and placed on the market. I saw salmon in Rowdy Creek that were three feet long. The water just swarms with such in their season. They are seined and speared and will not take bait.
    I left Smith River at 9 p.m. in drenching rain, taking an open stage. All night we went over the mountains with the "Oregon mist" beating upon us. We had no adventures save that a gust of wind blew out our light and left us to grope our way over gulches where a misgrope would have landed us at the bottom of gorges a thousand feet deep. We had only one upset and that luckily threw us out upon a friendly sand heap. At 8 a.m. we reached the station, where we found fire and breakfast, and was committed to the care of Old Frank who built the road over the mountain from this place to Waldo, 32 miles distant. All day we rode and all day it rained. I was mounted on a long-legged, sure-footed bucking pony. I had on a dress coat, an overcoat, a gossamer and an oiled muslin coat and suppose that I was grotesque enough to suit the most distorted fancy. I rode on and over the wild mountain road; my horse bucked and Old Frank swore at the pack horses; the rain held its own with an occasional spice of snow and hail.
    Late in the day we arrived at Waldo, and the good landlord of the hotel made me happy by building a rousing fire and helping me to dry my thoroughly soaked clothes and baggage. I remained here two days and, for the first time, visited a gold mine. I also shot a fine lot of squirrels, and altogether had a good time, such as only Oregon can afford. Game of all kinds very abundant here. The country not agricultural. There is some fine pasture and fruit land in the valley of the Illinois. Mining is the leading industry. I took the stage here for the city of Jacksonville, in the Rogue River Valley, passing through some good country in Josephine County along the Applegate River.
    Just at dusk we reached our destination and after a night's rest at the U.S. Hotel--one of the worst I ever saw set--about to see this world-famed valley.
    It is a country unlike any other. From its peculiar location and surrounding mountain ranges, it has a climate peculiar to itself. Located between the dry regions of California and the excessively rainy regions of the Willamette and Umpqua valleys, it seems to be the ideal country, climatically. The county has an area of 8,000 square miles, but only a third of it is agricultural land. The valley is entirely surrounded by mountains, with here and there a few buttes and and ranges of high hills, which make the scenery of the grandest order. For the most part the country is well watered; the valley proper is a prairie country, though the foothills and mountains afford plenty of timber. The land is not all fertile by any means, but there is much of the very richest land. Anything raised in Indiana can be raised here, and, with the exception of corn, to greater perfection. Wheat often yields 50 bushels per acre. On clean land it is not necessary to sow wheat oftener than every third or fourth year. Six crops in succession have been harvested from one sowing. Col. J . E. Ross told me that he cut the sixth crop from one field having cut it every year--which yielded him 74 bushels of 62-lb. wheat per acre. Think of it! Six crops from one seeding and a yield of 75 bu. per acre! Of course this is not often done, but the fact shows what the country is capable of. Fruit is largely raised and, excepting grapes, the quality is equal to California's best products. Five-pound potatoes are common. So are Chinamen. The insect enemies common in Indiana, except the fruit tree borers, are unknown. Think of it; no worms in fruit, no potato bugs, no cabbage or currant worms, no weevil of any kind and no horseflies nor mosquitoes.
    Lands range in price from $2.50 per acre to $100, owing to location and improvements. The soil is varied--good, bad, indifferent and very bad. The natural grasses will support stock all the year. Snow seldom falls and ice half an inch thick is a great rarity. I was in the valley 15 days in January and the people were plowing every day. Wheat, oats and barley at any time from October till March. Ripe wheat will stand without injury for a month; it is cut in August. No rains from June to October, sure, yet corn never rolls.
    This is a good place to stop, and will here bid the readers of the Plain Dealer goodbye until I get to Sams Valley, Jackson County, Oregon. I will tell more of this country in the future. The Plain Dealer, North Vernon, Indiana, March 13, 1884, page 1



    Ed. Plain Dealer:--In reading your columns I am reminded that I have sent nothing for some time.
    I remarked in my last letter that Oregon suited us. It suits us better now than at that time. The prospect for all kinds of growing crops is very fine, indeed. Old settlers say it was never so good before. Our corn is all "laid by." We have some that is in tassel. It is the Marblehead sweet corn, however, and was planted May 1st. An unusually large amount of corn was planted here this year, and the season has, so far, been very propitious.
    It has rained, so far, every day in June save one. While it has ruined a vast amount of hay, it has pushed the grain crop. Perhaps the account will balance. June rains are unusual except, possibly, one or two showers. June 1884 will be famous in Oregon history for its rains; yet in Indiana the rains would hardly have been noticed. The hay crop lost consists of alfalfa and volunteer crops of wheat, oats, barley, &c. Timothy hay is not yet ready to cut. There is not much land here that will produce timothy, consequently we who can raise it have an article for which there is ready sale at a good price. It is worth $10 per ton now at the shed.
    We had a slight frost during the last week in May. It did very little damage. It is not uncommon to have slight frosts in summer. Occasionally they seriously injure some of the more tender crops. Six years ago, on the morning of the glorious Fourth of July, potatoes were bitten to the ground. Corn and other crops were badly bitten by the hoary-headed Winter King. So, you see, we have our disadvantages as well as other places. Very high lands are free from these visitations. Those who have the hardihood to go up into the mountains and make a home do not suffer from the frost, either in summer or winter, as much as those in the valleys. A mountain ranch, therefore, is practical as well as romantic. Sometimes it is difficult to get a good road, as we have more miles of road than we have men to work on them. Let us have the men to work the roads and we can build a road over which, with an ordinary team, we can draw a ton of freight from the Siskiyous to to the Willamette. It may be tortuous but it will be dry and the grade easy. I will take the chances here in the mountains rather than on your gum flats. Here we will have good soil, a genial climate, a solid road,  perpetual pasture, plenty of venison, good health and a good crop. No doctor need apply. There are ten thousand men in Indiana working their lives away for nought who could here get a home from Uncle Sam had they but the nerve to come. There are many others who have stayed until they are too poor to come. I pity this class, for I know all about the hardships of a poor man in Indiana. Were I a single young man in the East, and knew what was in store here for a boy of grit, I would walk to Oregon [illegible] two young men whom I could recommend at $30 per month and board. No doubt many could be similarly located. A good, honest, sober and industrious young man is at a premium here. The native young man of Oregon, as a rule, is of no account whatever. Come out here, young man of push and clean heart, roll up your sleeves and go to work, and Dame Fortune will smile upon you. After a few years you will have a home to which your sweetheart, if she is good for anything, might well be glad to come. I frequently receive letters from eastern dudes asking if a position as bookkeeper could be secured. To all such I can say NO. We have too many soft snap hunters here already. We want men of brawn and brains, and if you are a dude looking for a soft job don't come to Southern Oregon.
    I can locate at least fifty families on fruit lands here who, in five years, could be independent of the world. The lands are broken but will produce fruit to the greatest perfection. Anything else raised in the country would also grow upon it. Poultry and bees would also pay handsomely. In a word, this is a land of grand possibilities for new men and women of good constitutions and strong resolutions.
    I would be glad to have your exchanges copy this letter and thereby help me to fill up this country. It is going to be filled, and Hoosiers ought to take the one chance.
    Further, I want to say to each one of my friends in old Jennings that if you read this consider it a personal letter and that I would be glad to receive a word from you; send a postal anyhow. Ask me any questions you choose and I will answer you in the Plain Dealer. Don't expect me to write you personally for I could not do that and do anything else. A few of the dear Jennings County people to whom we have written have been unkind enough to ignore the letters.
    Another item: Oregon went Republican last week and Blaine and Logan will carry the state this fall, "and don't you forget it." Some other man would have suited us better than Logan, but, nevertheless, hurrah for Blaine and Logan.
Sams Valley, June 15.

SCOTT MORRIS.            

OREGON.