Page:Portland, Oregon, its History and Builders volume 1.djvu/542

388 Primary School Eighth Grade, 700 850

Supernumeraries 300 300

The story of the woman that founded a great school in the state, probably the best school in the state, would have made the most interesting page on "How the Immigrants Got Here;" and the reader may possibly think that it ought to have been told with the trials of the immigrants. But it is put in here with the schools, because the schools is a greater subject than the dangers of the trail, great as they must always be considered.

Tabitha Brown was born in 1780 the daughter of one Dr. Joseph Moffett of Brimfield, Mass. On reaching the age of 19 like most of the energetic girls of New England, she married a minister—the Rev. Clark Brown, of the Episcopalian church. The good man ran his course swiftly, passed away in homely virtue and respectability, leaving the young wife and two sons, and not a dollar in property, to fight the battle of life alone. For eight years she taught schools in Maryland for a livelihood for herself and children. Thinking the opportunities in the then far western state of Missouri would be better for herself and boys she moved out to Missouri in 1837. In 1843 one of her sons, Orus Brown, made the trip overland to Oregon, and returning to Missouri in 1845 induced his mother to start for Oregon in 1846. And with her son and daughter, and their families, they set out for this country, taking with them John Brown, an aged brother of her dead husband. Mrs. Brown was now sixty-six years of age. After reaching the head waters of Snake river her son, Orus, fearing they might run out of provisions, pushed on ahead of the party with a view of getting help and returning to meet the incoming immigrants. And after his departure, she was prevailed upon, with others of the party, to follow the lead of an unknown guide who misled them into what was known as the southern Oregon route. And here they fell victims to the direst terrors of travel that ever beset any immigration to this country. In the year, 1854, Mrs. Brown wrote out an account of that awful trip, from which the following was taken:

"Winter had set in. We were yet a long distance from any white settlement. The word was, 'fly, everyone that can, from starvation; except those who are compelled to stay by the cattle to recruit them for further travel.' Mr. Pringle and Pherne insisted on my going ahead with Uncle John to try and save our lives. They were obliged to stay back a few days to recruit their cattle. They divided the last bit of bacon, of which I had three slices; I had also a cup full of tea. No bread. We saddled our horses and set off, not knowing that we should ever see each other again. Captain Brown was too old and feeble to render any assistance to me. I was obliged to ride ahead as a pilot, hoping to overtake four or five wagons that left camp the day before. Near sunset we came up with the families that had left that morning. They had nothing to eat, and their cattle had given out. We all camped in an oak grove for the night, and in the morning I divided my last morsel with them and left them to take care of themselves. I hurried Capt. Brown so as to overtake the three wagons ahead. We passed beautiful mountains and valleys, saw but two Indians in the distance during the day. In the afternoon. Captain Brown complained of sickness, and could only walk his horse at a distance behind. He had a swimming in his head, and a pain in his stomach. In two or three hours he became delirious and fell from his horse. I was afraid to jump down from my horse to assist him, as it was one that a woman had never ridden before. He tried to rise up on his feet but could not. I rode close to him and set the end of his cane, which I had in my hand, hard in the ground, to help him up. I then urged him to walk a little. He tottered along a few yards and then gave out. I then saw a little