Page:Oregon Historical Quarterly vol. 5.djvu/100

90 Linnton for Doctor Linn. It was a fair site, except for one small reason: it was not at the head of ship navigation, which subsequent experience prove to be at Portland, some mites above. I had a cabin built at Linnton and lived there with my family from about the middle of January until the first of May, 1844. We performed a considerable amount of labor there, most of which was expended in opening a wagon road thence to the Tualatin Plains, over a mountain and through a dense forest of fir, cedar, maple, and other timber. When finished the road was barely passable with wagons. Our town speculation was a small loss to us, the receipts from the sale of lots not being equal to the expenses.

I found that expenses were certain and income nothing, and determined to select what was then called "a claim," and make me a farm. I knew very little about farming, though raised upon a farm in Missouri, and had not performed any manual labor of consequence (until I began to prepare for this trip) for about seventeen years. I had some recollection of farming, but the theory as practiced in Missouri would not fully do for Oregon. Mr. Douglas told me that I could not succeed at farming, as there was a great deal of hard work on a farm. I replied that, in my opinion, a sensible and determined man could succeed at almost anything, and I meant to do it. I did succeed well, but I never had my intellect more severely tasked, with a few exceptions. Those who think good farming not an intellectual business are most grievously mistaken.

Some time in April, 1844, I went to the Tualatin Plains and purchased a claim in the middle of a circular plain about three miles in diameter. The claim was entirely destitute of timber, except a few ash trees which grew along the margin of the swales. The plain was beautiful and was divided from the plains adjoining by living streams of water flowing from the mountains, the banks of which streams were skirted with fir and white cedar timber. The surface of this plain was gently undulating, barely sufficient for drainage. I purchased ten acres of splendid fir timber distant about a mile and a half, for twenty five dollars. This supply proved ample for a farm of about two hundred and fifty acres.

These swales are peculiar winter drains, from ten to thirty yards wide, and from one to two feet deep. In the winter they were filled with slowly running water, but in summer they are dry, and their flat bottoms become almost as hard as brick. No vegetation of consequence will grow in these swales, and the only timber along their margins is scattering ash, from six to eight inches in diameter,