WRITTEN BY HIMSELF
Contributed to this site by: Larry Thornton at (millar@terragon.com)
Insert from Larry Thornton:
George Washington Hunt b. 8 Feb 1831 in Harrison Twp, Wayne County, IN
and d. 9 Oct 1920 in Salem, Mario, OR
Married 3 Aug 1851 to Elizabeth Nancy Smith - b. 25 Jul 1834 in Oregon,
Holt Co., MO and d. 10 Oct 1891 at Salem, Marion , Oregon. See
photograph album for a picture of them with their youngest child, Sara
"Sally" Fiducia Hunt.
Reference: (Copied from: THE HUNT FAMILY ON THE AMERICAN FRONTIER; by Laurence A. Hunt of Spokane, Washington, 1958)
About the year, 1800, some members of the Jonathan Hunt family removed from near Salisbury North Carolina, and settled in Ohio. After this settlement in Claremont County in Ohio, my Grandfather Jonathan Hunt, son of Charles Hunt of Rowan Co. North Carolina who married a lady by the name of Shotwell. Now when my father, John S. Hunt was about twelve years of age, my grandfather moved from Ohio to Wayne County, Indiana, and settled on the Whitewater River, near the town of Smithfield. Several other members of this Hunt family, a few years previous to this time, had settled on the Elkhorn River where they founded the town of Elkhorn, and the Elkhorn Baptist Church. There they also built a gristmill, on this same Elkhorn River or Creek. Near it they also built a blockhouse in order to be able to protect the mill from the Indians.
As I said in the previous paragraph, my father married a lady by the name of Shotwell and she bore him five sons, and two daughters. The names of the sons were as follows: John S. Hunt, George W. Hunt, James Hunt, Harrison Hunt, and William Hunt. The names of the daughters were Clara, who married a man by the name of Kennedy; and Frankie, the youngest child, who also married a man by the name of Kennedy, and settled in LaPorte County, Indiana
My Grandfather’s first wife having died, he married a maiden lady by the name of Abrams, who also bore him seven children but in reverse order, being two sons and five daughters. The names of the sons were: Stephen and Jonathan Hunt. Stephen married but Jonathan lived a life of single blessedness.
The names of the daughters were: Rebecca, who married a man by the name of Lightfoot, and moved to Kansas; Maria, who married a man by the name of Drummond; Louise, who married a man by the name of Stanley; and Elizabeth and Nancy, who never married. Of this latter family all except Rebecca, died early in life of consumption.
My Great Grandfather, Grandfather and my father were all deacons in the Baptist church. My Father John S. Hunt, the eldest son of my Grandfather, was born in Harrison Township, in Wayne Co., Indiana, April 11, 1803, and was married to Temperance Estep May 8th, 1823. My Mother was born, Jan. 10, 1804.
My father learned the trade of a gunsmith with Smith Hunt of Elkhorn, Indiana. He along with several other members of the Hunt family emigrated to LaPorte County, in 1835. He built the first house in Byron, near LaPorte. He afterwards moved to where the city of LaPorte now is, and built the first gunsmith shop in that town, before the Potowotamie Indians were removed from that reservation.
The fever and ague raged so severely in that section that my father soon moved aback to Eastern Indiana, and settled near Liberty, the county-seat of Union County. There he built a sawmill and bought a gristmill that adjoined it.
At about this time my father got caught by depreciation of the so called "wild cat money." He had developed a wide ranging business and in the course of his operations had deposited large sums of money with several banks. Because of a temporary money stringency each bank began to pay depositors with money issued by the banks themselves, and not regular government guaranteed money. This "wild cat" money was worth little and caused the depositors heavy losses. My father was badly financially crippled by this difficulty.
He then turned his attention to Iowa, but learning that it was very cold there, gave up going to that state. He also received letters from both Henry Clay and Thomas Benton, encouraging him to go to Oregon, and was assured by them that the new Donation Land Bill for that territory would certainly pass. He also was encouraged by Gen. Joel Palmer, who had been to Oregon and visited my father. He also talked the matter over with James Hunt who had just returned from a two year trip to the Oregon country. Acting upon all this advice he began to make plans for the trip.
BOUND FOR OREGON
Our preparations now began in earnest. After building two wagons, the woodwork of which was made by John Ensley, but my father and I completed them. Then we ran John Sedwick’s sugar camp and made enough sugar to make the trip. Then after getting two buffalo guns, made by Brumfel of Abbington, we finally started from Smithfield, Indiana, on the fifth day of March, 1847, on the long trip to Oregon.
The morning that we started, it was really a novel sight. People came from far and near to see us off, and my fathers best friends even then tried to persuade him to stay in Indiana saying that it was folly to start out on such a long tedious journey, and as I think back upon it today it does seem to appear as a rash undertaking, as my father’s purse was limited. But we were soon on our way, and with our hired teams soon arrived at Cincinnati, Ohio. From here we took passage on the steamer Fort Wayne, for St. Louise, Missouri.
The captain of the boat made it very pleasant for us on the steamer, being an old acquaintance of my father. During Father’s trading days he had carried cargoes from Eastern Indiana to various Mississippi River points.
We crossed over the falls at Louisville, Kentucky, and from there one or two steamers raced us all the way to St. Louis. One came in just a few lengths behind us as we landed.
At St. Louis we laid in supplies for our westward journey; among other items we laid in a supply of salmon hooks, to catch salmon on the Columbia River. The laugh came in long afterwards as to the salmon hooks, as we found upon our arrival that salmon very seldom bite at hooks. (L.A. Hunt - Modern salmon have since learned how).
Here in St. Louis, we sold six bushels of hickory nuts, that we had brought with us to eat out on the plains, as we found that we had no room for them. We bought bar lead for three and one-half cents per pound, and gunpowder for nineteen cents per pound.
We left St. Louis on the steamer "Meteor" for St. Joseph, Missouri, it was said that there were about three hundred steamboats tied up at the docks in St. Louis when we left.
At Island, no. 7, on the Missouri River, a few miles below Lexington, our boat burst both boilers. After patching the boilers, the boat could not stem the current, so we landed at Lexington, where be bought some oxen and crossed by land, to Independence, Missouri, and bought our flour for the trip from the "Blue Mills," owned by Colonel Owens, who was killed at about this time in a battle with the Mexicans at Chihuahua.
After our arrival at Independence, my father’s money running short, he took in an excellent young man from Texas, by the name of Elijah Patterson, who furnished one yoke of oxen and one yoke of cows, which now made us a very good outfit.
From Independence, we made our way to Indian Grove, our next camp, on the line of Indian Territory, now Kansas. Here we joined up with the remainder of the company, and Elijah Paterson was elected captain of the wagon-train;, which consisted of twenty-one wagons. The next morning we rolled out for Oregon.
At our next camp, three men who had been out on the Santa Fe Road for the body of a man who was murdered for his money, stayed all night at our camp.
We crossed the Kaw River, not far from where I understand that Kansas City now stands.
When we reached the little Vermillion River we buried a man who was sick when we started. This was our first death on the trip.
Just before we crossed the South Platte River, we saw our first buffalo. There was an immense band, apparently eight to ten miles square, in rather loose arrangement, traveling north. We killed several choice buffalo here. Our hunters killing them as they crossed the river. This gave us a good stock of meat, and we took out a little time to prepare it.
While gathering our cattle at this point, we found a gun and shot pouch in the tall grass. The Pawnee Indians had waylaid a man gathering his stock, one shot broke his arm and the next cut the strap holding his shot-pouch. We learned later that this had happened to the wagon-train just ahead of us.
The Mormons crossed us over the North Platte River in a rather loose affair that they called a ferry.
At Independence Rock, (L.A. Hunt- When in Kansas I once stood on the top of this rock and could imagine how the Indians might have kept a lookout here to watch for travelers, as you could see many miles both up and down the river from this point), we took on a good sized sack of Saleratus, from the Saleratus Lakes at the head of the Sweetwater River, near the summit of the Rocky Mountains.
John Thomas, a member of our company, and myself, while out hunting were taken prisoner by the Crow Indians, and held for nearly all day. We only escaped by refusing to give up our guns and finally broke through a weak place in their line. One Indian nearly tore off my coat-tails in trying to hold me, and Thomas nearly knocked an Indian off his horse while the Indian was trying to wrench my gun from my hands. That night the Indians stole several horses from our train.
While we were making the Ham’s Creek Cut-off, General Kearney passed us with his dragoons on his way east, from his conquest of California.
(It may be remembered that all of George W. Hunt’s brothers and sisters, all that were then living came west with their father except the oldest sister Hannah, who stayed in Indiana, and married Samuel Goodwin. The Original of the following letter was loaned to Beverly Yount by a descendent of Hannah (Hunt) Goodwin, who has loaned me this copy. This seems to be a good place to record it. Note: by L.A. Hunt- The spelling and underscoring are as in the original.)
Pacific Springs Oreg.
July 11, 1847
Dear Children:-
We have this day crossed the summit of the Rocky Mountains, the backbone of the World, and we are now camped at the first Spring on the road, the waters of which run into the Pacific Ocean. We can say we are in Oregon, (Note: L.A. Hunt - Oregon Territory did reach to the Rocky Mountains at one tine) but our journey is half performed. We are all well and have been ever since the children got well of the measles. We have not heard from you since we left. Would be glad if you would write us so that we would get it by the time we get over. I wrote a short time since and expect that this will be the last chance until we arrive at our journeys end. We have got along remarkably well and have had no difficulty and no trouble with Indians, Lost no cattle, had one lame one but he is well, generally by weather we have had no rain for a long time Roads very dusty. Generally plenty of grass for our cattle and they look better than when we started. We had some difficulty to keep our wagons together the hot sand shrinks them so. To move to Oregon is not so terrible as many suppose. We have heard from your uncle Harrison several times. He is well and the Say he is making money faster than any man in Oregon. We this day met a company returning from Oregon, and with them was a family all packed on horseback. This looked bad. We have nothing to write. We are traveling with very agreeable company All peace and harmony. Please to remember us to Esqr. Goodwin and Lady, Grandfather Martin and all inquiring friends. No more at present but remain Yours
John S. Hunt
To Samuel Goodwin
H.H. Goodwin
This letter was folded three times, and then in thirds again. In the middle of the back sheet,
Mr. Samuel Goodwin
Liberty Union County
Indiana
Politeness of Mr. Write to the State.
(He possibly handed this to one of the company that he just stated they just met)
We crossed the Snake River again at Old Fort Boise. At this crossing we overtook Stephen Coffin from Brookville, Ind. When we reached the Grand Ronde Valley I traded my big buffalo rifle for a good horse with an Indian. The Indian followed us for two or three days and finally stole the horse.
After the Cayuse Wars, following the murder of Marcus Whitman, an Indian from the Blue Mountains tried to trade this gun, broken at the breech, to Henry Williamson, formerly from Ohio, who told me that he saw my name on the gun. My name was engraved on the barrel.
We will now go back to where we passed the American Falls or the Salmon Falls on the Snake River. Here we found the Indians drawn up in two lines, one on each side of the road.. My father had but two wagons in company. Here the Indians demanded a fat ox, one Indian taking aim at the ox they wanted. My father kept this Indian covered with a cocked rifle while we tried to push the oxen on. My mother handed me my rifle out of the wagon and I gave my whip to my sister, May, a frail delicate girl, who slashed the Indians so severely as well as whipping the oxen that we managed to get through them. The Indians raised a big war whoop, and looking back we saw another wagon train, Dodson’s company just coming over the hill about a mile behind. Perhaps their appearance saved us from getting robbed. Near here the Clarke Family were murdered a couple of years later while traveling alone.
We will now return to the first camp after crossing the Snake River. This was near the Hot Springs, and Whitcomb’s Company, and Palmer and Dodson’s companies were all camped together. They arranged to hold a big dance. A very prominent person at the dance was a man named Moore Dimick. During the night the Indians stole two of the best carriage horses in the train.
From the second crossing of the Snake River, the Coffin family and my father’s family traveled together to some where near Umatilla. In crossing the Blue Mountains, my father lost a fine Durham heifer that he had bought at Independence, MO.
Just after Coffin and my father separated, I went to look for some horses that the Indians had stolen, just before crossing Willow Creek down near the Columbia. While I was gone four Indians under took to rob my father; but by covering them with his gun he managed to get away. Several other parties of Emigrants were robbed hear here at about the same time.
We crossed the DesChutes River on a ferry, in company with a family by the name of Templeton, who had two wagons and who later settled in Linn County. This family helped us up steep hills as their teams were better than ours. When we reached Thye (sic. Tygh L.T.) Valley we were nearly out of provisions, and my father bought half a bushel of peas and a few potatoes from the Indians but that was all the provisions that we could buy here.
When we arrived at Barlows Gate, we found camped there, Samuel Center and Theophilus Powell, from the Waldo Hills, waiting to help their friends on, as they were expected within a few days. They agreed with my father that if he would wait until their friends arrived, that they would help us over the mountains with their oxen. So my father waited, and this was the most fatal mistake of the whole trip. We waited ten days and the others did not come and so we started on. On the summit of the Cascades there came a cold storm with enough snow to cover the ground about four inches. Our cattle were now thin and the storm chilled them and we were compelled to leave half of them. This day things really looked gloomy. The fresh oxen out-traveled ours and the next day we left all the rest of our stock, except three head of cattle.
As Mr. Barlow and my father were both good Whigs, he only charged my father five dollars fee for the use of the road. We were the last wagon that crossed the mountains that winter.
When we finally reached the Waldo Hills, my father took up a donation land claim. This is now owned by Henry Warren, and my brother John A. Hunt.
SETTLEMENT IN THE WALDO HILLS
We arrived in the Waldo Hills, late in October in 1847. We were delighted with the country we had found, and wintered that first winter about a mile from the claim that my father had taken up.
The cabin that we wintered in that first winter belonged to a bachelor, by the name of Mr. Byrd.
I will here mention that Harrison H. Hunt, my fathers brother had, in 1843, hauled a set of saw-mill irons across the plains, with ox teams, and built a saw mill at the upper end of Cathlamette Bay, on the Columbia River at a place called Clifton. He now had two sawmills in operation at this place and was doing quite an extensive business in shipping lumber to the Sandwich Islands, (now called the Hawaiian Islands). He came to see us and gave my father substantial help, of which we were in sore need, as when we finally arrived in the Waldo Hills my father had just fifty cents in money, left.
During the first year that we lived in the Waldo Hills, Ralph Geer, was one of our nearest neighbors, and was a kind and helpful man. During this winter my father built a house on his land claim. He also broke out some ground and made other preparations toward making this a permanent home.
My father’s family consisted of six sons and three daughters. Noah W. Hunt was born in Harrison Township in Wayne Co., Indiana, April 11, 1824 and died Aug. 10, 1834; George W. Hunt the second son and the writer of this book was born Feb. 8th, 1831, also in the same township; John A. Hunt, third son was born near Liberty, in Union County, Ind. Nov. 28, 1836. He now owns a part of his father’s old place. Jonathan H. Hunt, the fifth son, was born in Liberty, union Co., Indians, Jan. 9, 1843, and was drowned while running Priest Rapids on the Columbia River, in a small boat, in December, 1861. He was eighteen years of age at the time of his death and was a young man of very great promise. James T. hunt the sixth son was born at Smithfield, Indiana, June 5, 1845. Spent a great deal of his time around Cottage Grove and Eugene, Oregon.
The daughters were as follows: Hannah H. Hunt was born in Harrison Township, in Indiana, on July 6, 1828, and married Samuel Goodwin in 1846. Mary S. Hunt was born near Liberty, Indiana, Jan. 28, 1826, and was married to George Richie, who now lives in the Waldo Hills. She did not live long after her marriage, and left an infant daughter, Mary, who also died when about twenty-two years of age. Richie afterward married another lady and raised a large family, and as before stated now lives in the Waldo Hills. After the death of my mother, this sister Mary, took care of the younger children. She was devout Christian, and of a lovely, unselfish disposition. She and her daughter are both buried in the family burying ground near Clymer, Oregon.
Temperance E. Hunt was born, Jan. 16, 1834, apparently at Liberty, Ind. and married John Downing, in the Waldo Hills. She died Sept. 16, 1876.
I will now return to my brothers: John A. hunt married a lady by the name of Mary E. Amon, and their children are as follows: Critendon, deceased; Howard B., deceased. Caroline who married a man by the name of Frank Rice, and died shortly thereafter. Grace E., now Mrs. F.M. Albaugh, and Matilda A. Hunt.
My brother Jonathan H. married Miss Lucinda Morley, and their children are Lillie E., now Mrs. Paul Schrader; Mary H., now Mrs. J. K. Smith; and Alfred Hunt.
My brother James T. Hunt first married Matilda Amon, and their children were; Quinton, Thomas, Albert and a daughter whose name I do not know. The first two died very young. After the death of his first wife, he married Anne Spray, and lived a long time near Cottage Grove, Oregon.
My sister Hannah H. Goodwins children were; Adelbert, John, Frank, Laura, Elijah, George W., Charles, Bonaparte and Harry D.
Temperance E. Downing’s children were: Edwin, and attorney in Salem, Albert L., Alice,- now Mrs. T. B. Patton, Marion T., Herbert J. and Harry O.
INDIAN TROUBLES AND THE BATTLE OF ABIQUA
During March, 1848, the Klamath and the Molalla Indians, commenced levying tribute on the settlers. They robbed houses and intimidated women when left alone. They stole ammunition and placed the whole country in a state of fear and anxiety. The Klamath and the Molalla Indians were camped together on the Abiqua River.
Of course the settlers were excited by the murder of Marcus Whitman, and the Wailatpu massacre, and were in no mood to endure Indian foolishness. At this time the settlers, west of the Cascades had sent about seven hundred of their best men to put down the Cayuse Indians for the murder of Whitman, and consequently, after sending off so many men, in some places the settlers were really left defenseless. The Indians often told the settlers that all the fighting "Bostons" had gone to the Cayuse country, and that only the "Kloochmen" left.
While the settlers were in this suspense, a currier arrived with the intelligence that the Indians had surrounded the house of Richard Millar and demanded a beef. Capt. R. C. Greer
( L. A. Hunt- I assume that this is the Ralph Greer who was a near neighbor of John S. Hunt. T. T. Geer a son was later governor of Oregon:, and Serg. William King gathered their company of militia, and started for the scene of the disturbance. I would like, her, to give R. C. Geer credit for his public spirit in raising and drilling this company of militia for home defense.
This company drilled at the old Dundar place; and even yet I sometimes laugh at the condition that we presented on dress parade; for when trying to form a straight line, our eyes would be attracted to a pair of buckskin pants that just would not form a line.
In looking back over this affair,- the Battle of Abiqua, - I am fully persuaded that the promptness of the whites in gathering for defense, saved the settlers a bloody Indian war. There was a council held at which I was present, and the avowed intention was to surround the Indians and escort them out of the country, with as little harm as possible.
The rapid movements of the militia, and the utter discomfiture of the Indians, discouraged the Molallas and they refused to join the Klamath Indians in the war although there were Cayuse spies among them, urging them to do so.
On surrounding the Indians, they commenced to fight. I well remember that during this fight, a man by the name of William Harpool, whose house the Indians had robbed during his absence, was very desirous of getting a shot at the Indians, but as the brush was very thick where we were, he kept dancing about trying to shoot, but the tree that he was behind, gave him little protection. He finally mounted a log over my head and made some good shots.
The rain was coming down in torrents, and my gun,- an old flintlock, -refused to go off. In priming it I spilled powder all over the breech of the gun. You see I was quite nervous, although I thought I was quite cool.
The Indians charged gallantly up the bank of the creek, and the first one that tried to climb the bank was shot dead. Their chief having been killed a short time before they broke and ran.
The next day I was not present at the fight, having been detailed with others of the militia to watch the old Klamath trail at the head of Pudding River. Sergant (Sic) King told me that he led a party of militia on the trail of the Indians; it had snowed during the night. They finally overtook the Indians and another fight ensued, in which the Indians showed a great deal of courage. Twelve Indians were killed or wounded in this engagement. Two squaws, who were found fighting with them, were badly wounded, and one of them died that night. The whole party of Indians were taken prisoner, and finally released on the condition that they would return to their own country and never come back. (L.A. Hunt- by this I assume these were Klamath Indians).
On the following day I and a detail of men struck the trail of the Indians near the old block house on the farm now owned by Rossiter Bros. And followed the Indians until we overtook them crossing the Santiam River. We stayed until we saw them all safely across.
Quiet was now restored to the settlement, and my father went on with his home improvements. He built a log school house, that also answered for a church. In this building, B. F. Dowell of Jacksonville taught the first school in the Waldo Hills. My father, who was noted for his hospitality, offered a welcome home to the traveling preacher or any traveling emigrant. I remember that old Father Wilbur stayed with us quite often. I believe that he was the presiding elder at this time. I liked the old man and his council helped me spiritually.
ON MY OWN AND THE DISCOVERY OF GOLD IN CALIFORNIA
In the spring of this same year, 1848, I bought my freedom from my father, being now in my 18th year, and started out on my own responsibilities.
After seeing my father with twelve acres of land broken and fenced and mostly planted, I started for my Uncle H.H. Hunt’s mills on the Columbia River. I took passage at Oregon City, in a small boat with a Mr. Welch, who was at that time a part owner of the townsite of Astoria. On passing down the Willamette River where now the city of Portland is located, we saw, on that day nothing but forest.
After arriving at my uncles mills, I hired out to work for twenty dollars a month, in what is now called a logging camp.
Having been reared in town, I here was to meet some severe experiences. I well remember the first Sunday after my arrival; in the morning, the men got their washing ready to take to Woody Island to the Indians. I said, I would not go, and they said with a knowing nod, - "Young man, you can’t do your own washing, and you will come to it."
Upon inquiry I learned that the smiles of the Indian maidens had more to do with the trip than the washing. At that time, on the Lower Columbia, nearly every single man had his squaw, either by purchase or otherwise, and a great many were married to them.
Mrs. Marlin and her hired girl, the only white women at the mills, hearing of my refusal to go to Woody Island, came to me and offered to do my washing free of charge. After a while my Uncle promoted me to the place of tail sawyer, and marker of lumber.
In the meantime I took up a claim on Cathlamette Bay, where the town of Napa now is.
In the fall of the year, one day while at the mills, the brig,- "Honolulu," when it arrived opposite the mills cast anchor, and a Mr. Wilson, a former partner of my Uncle, came ashore and told us of the discovery of Gold in California, and showed us some quite large pieces of pure gold. This caused a big excitement at the mills. The work force at the mills at that time consisted of fifteen Kannakas,-Hawaiians,- and sixteen white men.
My Uncle commenced fitting out a schooner, belonging to him and also built at the Mills, called the Wave, for San Francisco. I determined to go on this boat to the mines, but I receives a letter from my father, urging me to come home and care for the family as he would then be on his way to the gold mines of California, as he was going overland.
I decided to go home, and my father (sic uncle L.T) paid me off with orders on Pettygrove and Co. and on the Hudson Bay Company’s store at Oregon City. As I could not cash these orders, I carried them home with me to the Waldo Hills. I then sent a team to Oregon City, and traded these orders for merchandise, which I then sold to the settlers for cash.
This winter, 1848-49, I worked at blacksmithing, as my father had a blacksmith shop. I remember one job that I did in the shop that winter, for a man by the name of Theophilus Powell. It was to make a full set of harrow teeth out of old wagon tires. This was the hardest job for the money that I ever did in my life. This however was a bonanza to the rest of the settlers. In the meantime my father came home from California.
The next spring, 1849, in company with uncle William Hunt, or Little Billy, as he was called, and Lon Woodsworth, and a man by the name of York, that my father fitted out for the mines on the shares, I started for the gold mines.
In crossing the Calapooia Mountains we fell in with a company of men from Polk County, also bound for the mines. Among these men was a man, by the name of Isaac, a Stephen Staats, Jons Williams and a Mr. Forest, and several others. There was a very prominent man in this party by the name of William Martin, later he was sheriff of Walla Walla County, Wash. In this company we felt safe in traveling through the Rogue River Valley. I remember that the Indians were constantly prowling around, and one day some of the boys gave chase to an Indian in the open prairie, and when they were almost on him he just seemed to sink into the ground, out of sight, and no trace of him could be found. While crossing the Shasta Plains, the grizzly bears were almost constantly in sight.
After we crossed the Devil’s Backbone, we crossed a little creek and camped near the Sacramento River.
Up to this time we had kept out a strong guard every night. Here Martin proposed that every man be his own guard for his own stock. So he tied his horses Lariats together to a stake and then laid his blankets down across the lariats, so that the very least disturbance would wake him. During the night, and Indian swam the river, and waded up the creek opposite to where Martin’s horse was tied, and cut the lariat on Martin’s best horse and quietly swam the horse out and across the river, all without ever disturbing camp.
The next morning after traveling a few miles, the Indians attacked in some very thick chaparral brush, and tried to stampede our horses. During the fight in catching my horses I fell behind the company. At this moment Jons Williams came running back looking for his pack horse.
I told him that I had dropped my fine pistol back where the Indians were shooting at us. He said that he would go back with me, but I told him that the Indians would surely kill us. He said that he would fix them. So we went back a few rods and while I was picking up my pistol, the Indians, who were hiding behind rocks, discovered us, and here Jons killed one Indian and broke the arm of another, who was standing behind a small tree. As I had no rifle, he appreciated the sport more than I did.
He then loaded his rifle and we hurried on to join the rest of our company, expecting every minute to see Indians in the trail ahead of us. That night we camped at Rock Creek, a few miles from the present city of Shasta, in California. Here we rested a few days and did some prospecting.
The Staats and Mr. Forest, having been to the mines before, on the lower Sacramento River, pronounced this as an apparent gold field. Mr. Forest took me out one day and gave me some instruction in the panning of gold. Then he said to me, "there is plenty of gold here, George, and if I didn’t have my claim on Feather River, I would stay here and dig." Then he showed me a gulch where he found good prospects. I worked here faithfully all the next day, and Mr. Forest weighed my gold and I had one hundred eight dollars. I told Mr. Forest to keep this quiet from the rest of the boys. The next day the rest of the company, together with my mess left for the lower Sacramento mines.
That evening, another company from Oregon, camped there with me. In this company was a man by the name of Samuel Gardner, and he concluded to stay there with me. He was from Luckiamute in Polk County.
In two or three days we were joined by Thomas Clark, Joe Megginson, Owen Bush of Bush Prairie in Wash. And also Charles Watson of the same place. With these men we felt quite safe from the Indians. We worked gradually to the south and found gold quite plentiful, not only on Rock Creek, but also on Salt Creek, and Olney’s Creek and in French Gulch. We worked here until about the last of August, and then followed Redding, and Van Dusen’s trail over to the Trinity country, but not finding gold as plentiful there as where we were we came back. By this time some new emigrants from Oregon had come into the diggings. This place is now called Shasta. They had quite a number of tents stretched, and it looked a little like civilization.
We commenced digging again at French Gulch. On the first Sunday morning after we got back to the diggings, being nearly out of provisions, we rode up to these tents.
Not being aware of what was going on we rode up in full view of where Rev. Snelling was preaching to about thirty people. There were five or six ladies present, and these were the first white women that we had seen since leaving the Willamette Valley up in Oregon.
We did not however present a very agreeable appearance, as we were entirely void of any clothing, except our hats, which shaded our eyes. We hurriedly took refuge behind a pine log.
When the services were over the rest of the boys declined to show themselves, and made me the spokesman for all of us. I beckoned to Rev. Snelling to come behind the log for a talk. Here I also was greatly surprised for Rev. Snelling knew me, having preached once at my father’s house in the Waldo Hills.
We then made some purchases and got out of sight as soon as possible.
While we were behind the log there were some girls who persisted in trying to peep around a wagon at us. Afterwards, I became acquainted with one of these girls, a Miss Tullis.
Years afterwards, - at a meeting at Parrish’s Gap,- Rev. Snelling told this joke on me in the presence of several ladies, who listened with profound interest.
About this time, because of the hot, Malarious, atmosphere, and drinking so much bad water, the California fever was quite prevalent. In our little company, Gardner, Clark and Eaton were already quite ill with it.
Up to this time I had been very successful in accumulating gold dust, and had more than any of the rest of our company. But just a few days later, Mr. Megginson took out eighteen hundred dollars from one crevice in one day and I never entirely caught up with him afterward. Mr. Megginson then took sick, and he with the rest of the sick men, were at Tullis’ boarding tent. Our camp now looked lonesome, but Owen Bush and I worked on in our diggings. Here I took out two pounds of gold in two days.
We now felt the fever coming upon us, and the morning that we started for Tullis’ tent, there was a stranger stopped at our tent camp, and was stung on the wrist by a scorpion, while spreading out his blanket. We saw him turning pale and directed him to a saloon, and told him to drink all the whiskey that he could. I learned afterwards that the whiskey cured him.
When we arrived at Tullis’ tent they gave me a big dose of quinine and I was crazy for two days. When I had only slightly recovered, we learned that John Sappingfield and some others were camped only a few miles distant on their way to Oregon. Bush and I hurried down the Sacramento, and camped on the trail where Sappington and his party were expected to pass.
When we struck the Oregon Trail, we found no grass for our horses, so we went on down and crossed to an island in the Sacramento River and camped. While here we heard that Sappington would not be along for several days.
It was also while we were camped here that a man, whose name I will not mention, learning that we had considerable gold dust kept on our trail and came to our camp on the island, and pretended that he wanted to go to Oregon with us. He was a large stout man, and we were both quite weak on account of the fever. We felt quite sure that his object was to rob us. We coaxed him to return to the Shasta Springs for supplies, and while he was gone we moved our camp several miles and hid so securely that he never found us.
While hid out at this new camp, we made some wild grape dumplings which made us both deathly sick. I had to eat a handful of gunpowder to relieve me of the pain.
HOMEWARD BOUND
The second night at this camp, my old French work-horse gave a snort and acted so strangely that we dressed and snatched up our guns, and peering through the grape vines in the darkness, we saw a party of Indians crossing the Sacramento River in the dim light from opposite our camp. They were so very quiet about it we felt sure that they had discovered us and were coming to our camp. When they were on our side of the river and nearly opposite us again, Bush said, "Let’s shoot." I said, "For God’s sake don’t shoot until we have to, for I don’t know for sure that they mean to harm us." I suppose that they heard us talking for they turned around and swam to the other side and were lost to view. Just what their object was we never knew.
The next day, Titus Smith of Howell, Oregon killed a large fat Grizzly bear not far from camp. He rode his mule right up to the old fellow, which was certainly a risk as they are very savage. This was the sweetest meat that I ever remember tasting.
Not far from this camp, it was reported that Joaquin Miller lived with a dusky maiden of the forest.
I neglected to mention that while we were mining on Olney’s Creek, that I came across the camp of Benjamin Wright, the great Indian Fighter, and Nathan Olney, with a lot of Waso Indians from The Dalles, Oregon, Capt. Wright, upon hearing that I was from Indiana, and from near Richmond, knowing that I was acquainted with his parents, was eager to talk to me. While we were talking about his favorite sister, he broke down and cried like a child. It was a strange sight to see a man like him in tears, but under the hard exterior, there is often a tender heart. As I was thinking some of going back to Indiana soon, he requested that I say nothing about the wild reckless life that he was leading.
We now took the trail at once for Oregon. On mounting my horse I found myself so weak that I could scarcely sit in the saddle, but I rode on all day but got into camp quite late that night. While we were camped here a man rode into camp, overtaking us from the mines, and telling us that two men who had taken up a claim on Olney Creek, at a place where we had done some prospecting, were killed by the Indians, while building a cabin. In killing the men the Indians used the men’s axes.
I managed to keep up with the company until we arrived at the base of Mount Shasta, where there are some fine soda springs. I gave out completely here, and Mr. Sappington, who was my Good Samaritan, made a litter for me here, out of two poles with a blanket between; then put one horse in front between the two poles and one horse behind, also in between the poles. The ends of the poles were supported from the pac-saddle of each horse. In this way I could ride very comfortably, although very weak, but I could lie down, as if in bed.
We found some difficulty in crossing the Klamath and the Siskiyou Mountains. I will here mention that several parties who started north from the mines were buried on Shasta Plains.
I could occasionally hear the boys as they would ride by me, thinking I was asleep, say, "He will hardly last over night."
One company of miners overtook us as we were crossing Shasta plains, who deliberately proposed to our company, that they leave me and push on, as they were too few in number to encounter the Indians alone. John Sappington and several others declared that they would stay by me as long as I had any life in me.
I cannot tell much of the next several days, but when we finally arrived in the Umpqua Valley, at a travel station kept by a Mr. S. Cowan, Sappington and I stopped here a few days to rest; then after this rest I was able to ride on over the Calapooia Mountains. After crossing these mountains, we again rested for a few days at an old stopping place kept by a Mr. Wells. After this rest I was able to ride to a place a few miles below the present city of Eugene, Oregon.
My parents met me here with a wagon, and under my mother’s careful nursing, we soon arrived at our home in the Waldo Hills.
Of Mr. Sappington, who now lives on Howell Prairie, near Salem, I will say, a more unselfish man or humane man than he it has never been my lot to meet; to him, under God, I owe my safe arrival home. I will here mention that Owen Bush, who started with me from the mines, and was also ill, recovered on the way home, and did all in his power to help me, although he was very weak himself.
All this winter I suffered from that fever and ague, and occasionally for eighteen months afterward. When I arrived back in the Waldo Hills. I found the country fast filling up with new settlers.
In February, of this year, 1850, my father and I started the first store in Waldo Hills, buying our goods in Oregon City, which was at that time the capital of Oregon.
STARTING NEW VENTURES
My father would start one week ahead, and bring the merchandise up the Willamette River in common row boats to Butteville, where I would meet him with Ox teams and haul them on home. sometimes the French settlers, on what came to be known as French Prairie, would hear that our wagons were loaded with goods, would detain us so much bartering for goods, that we could scarcely make any headway.
We paid as high as one dollar per dozen for eggs, in trade. EVERYTHING WAS AT RUNNING PRICES. Money was plentiful and goods were scarce at this time our store was the best that I knew of in what was then Champoeg, but is now Marion County.
In the fall of this year, 1850, Henry Williamson, from California, persuaded me to go on a trading expedition up to The Dallas, in Eastern Oregon. So I sold out my part of the store to my father. In company with Henry Williamson, Thomas Boggs, son of Ex-Governor Boggs, of Missouri, Jonathan and Samuel Center, I started for Eastern Oregon, by way of the Barlow Route. I remember that whenever Boggs would get a fresh bottle of whiskey, he would hold it up and sing,
"Old Black Bess, you are my darling;
You are mine both night and morning;
Oh, how I love you dearly!
You are mine both late and early."
However he was a good traveling companion.
When we arrived at The Dalles, Williamson and I established ourselves at The Dalles, out on Five Mile Creek, on the Emigrant Road. (Note: L.A. Hunt- going south from The Dalles, there were three creeks on the road. And each was named according to its approximate distance from The Dalles: Five Mile Creek, Ten Mile Creek and Fifteen Mile Creek. When I first went to Eastern Oregon, in 1905, this was still the main traveled road for all territory south of The Dalles. There were travel stations and I think small stores at all these places even then.)
We established a trading post, trading with the Emigrants, and Indians, and buying poor emigrant cattle and horses. We bought quite a lot of these horses and cattle, such as could not stand the trip over the Cascade Mountains. The Emigration that year was very heavy and in this particular year, hundreds of emigrants died of cholera in crossing the plains.
Among those who came across that year was my uncle, James Hunt who settled near Sublimity in Marion County. Our traffic with the Indians was very profitable. Hundreds of them camped at the mouth of the DesChutes River at Celilo, not far from our store. My partner was delighted with our prospects, and said that he would return to California, where he had considerable land interests, and would bring back a saw-mill in the spring, which we could erect in the timber on Fifteen Mile Creek. But my "Good Genius" which has always followed me, did not desert me here.
One day while talking to Yachticta, the chief of the DesChutes Indians, he told me that the snow was sometimes four feet deep at our Station. I asked him how the Indians wintered their ponies, and he said that they had to drive them up the DesChutes River about forty miles where they could winter on the willows.
After learning this, I knew that our poor cattle could not stand the drive over to the valley suggested, and also getting a hint that we might need a "Klootchman" to keep our lodge, and to make us solid with the Indians, a la Mountain man style, I became uneasy and finding an old German who wanted to buy me out, I asked Williamson if he had any objections to my selling. He said that he would buy me out himself; we closed our deal and I made a handsome profit.
Williamson then turned his stock over to Nathan Olney, to care for, and he went back to California for the winter. This proved to be the hardest winter ever met with in the vicinity of The Dalles. Williamson lost everything he had even to the cattle that he had bought on shares.
After Williamson bought me out, I bought a mule and started home by the trail along the Columbia River. I fell in with a man from St. Louis Missouri, and auctioneer, by trade. I think that when this man got near whiskey, he could get drunk quicker than any man that I ever saw.
MY MOTHER’S DEATH AND I GO BACK FOR MORE GOLD.
Very soon after my arrival home in the Waldo Hills, my mother, who had been sick for some time, died, Oct. 29, 1850. This was a sad blow to me. Her deep piety was a wonderful help to me spiritually.
Before she died, she called us all up around her bedside, and bid us each goodbye, one by one, and with her face shining with immortality, she said to me, "George, I want you to meet me in Glory." That was a moment that I could never forget.
This was also a great loss to my father, and although he married a good woman afterwards, he never fully recovered from the loss of my mother.
I took up a land claim this winter and in company with George Richie, worked our claims jointly until spring. (L.A. Hunt- George Richie was his brother-in-law)
MY SECOND TRIP TO THE MINES
In the spring, in company with my brother, John A. hunt, John Fresh, Samuel Hart of St. Louis, Missouri and his cousin, Owens, I started again for the gold mines of northern California.
In crossing the Calapooia Mountains, it rained so incessantly that we took refuge in a cabin that some settler had put up and failed to move into. Before the rain was over, it lasted about three weeks, our number gradually increased until there were about SIXTY OF US AT ONE TIME. Yes, we were rather crowded. Of this number, I remember, Len and George Eoff, William Martin, Hy English, Pop Smith, John Downing, and a school-teacher by the name of Vernon, and a sailor chap that Martin had hired. These men had a deck of cards, and it soon became evident that the sailor had won about all the small cash. The school-teacher became so infatuated with the game of "Old Sledge." that when told that his horses, which were tied together, were wound up around a tree, made the remark that he would see to them, but left them until the next morning and when he went to see them, he found his best horse, dead choked to death by the rope.
After losing three weeks here we finally started on, and finally reached the South Umpqua, after swimming every creek and gulch that we came to.
While making a raft here, to cross this stream, most of our company, becoming disheartened, by discouraging news from California and because of the rough trip that they had endured so far, turned back. Some continued on to Myrtle Creek and then turned back
After numerous trials and difficulties, we finally arrived at the big bar on Rogue River. There we found the Wheeler Brothers making some gold. They were working some Indians, but as a rule Indians were not good miners.
From here we pushed on the Applegate Creek, near where the town of Jacksonville now is. We camped here and prospected. The Indians at this place seemed quite friendly, as Joe Lane had previously made a treaty with them, and had sent Old Indian Chief Joe’s son to Washington D.C. to be educated. Here we relaxed our vigilance so far as to turn our horses out on the range.
We found some gold here and the second morning, Mr. Hart and myself went out to look for the stock and found his bell-horse dead, with five arrows sticking in him. We mounted the few horses that were still staked around the camp, only about enough to carry four men. We went back to the Big Bar on Rogue River with the intention of taking War-Chief Sam, prisoner and holding him until our horses were brought back. The Chief Sam arrived, he brought with him ten or twelve braves, all well armed. as I was the only one in the party who could talk jargon, I told him of the treaty and that we held him responsible for the return of our horses.
He was very insulting and defiant and said it was not his men who had stolen the horses which we knew was false. For a moment I was desperate, and stepped behind a tree close by, and cocked my pistol with every intention of shooting him, but my hand was stayed by an unseen power. We then went on down the Rogue River to Perkin’s Ferry to see Old Joe, the peace Chief.
We told hm our grievance and how Chief Sam had treated us. He agreed that if Perkins would go along, he knew and seemed to trust him, he would go with us after our horses. We finally persuaded Perkins to go with us, and Chief Joe and three of his braves, came on after us to our camp on Applegate Creek. We had made an agreement with him that one white man from our camp would go with him, but Mr. Hart and myself thought that we had both better go. The horse that I rode was an unbroken Spanish horse, loaned to me by a Mr. Keys, of the Santiam country, who also went along.
I will hear mention that we had a noted bully in our camp. When he heard that the horses were stolen, he loaded his gun and swore that he would kill the first Indian he saw. But while at the conference with old Chief Sam, was as quiet and harmless as a lamb. This man, while I and Mr. Hart were getting ready to go with Old Chief Joe, blustered around because Chief Joe was taking three braves with him, now although this man had a good mule, he did nothing to get ready to go on what seemed to be a dangerous trip. Mr. Hart and myself overtook Chief Joe, several miles down the Applegate Creek, which we swam every time we came to it as the water was very high.
At a big bend on the creek we found where the Indians had divided the horses. They then departed in different bands. I suppose that before they separated, that they ate my mule as I never saw it afterwards.
We rode on the trail in the direction of Smith River, until dark. When we stopped to camp, we stacked our guns, and told the Indians to place their guns with ours. Then we made our beds close to the guns as we feared treachery on the part of the Indians.
When we started on the next morning, the Indians showed us fires on the mountain peaks, built to warn the horse thieves that we were on their trail. Then commenced some of the hardest riding that I ever did.
That day, on towards evening we found the trail littered with debris that the Indians had discarded to aid them in their flight. We kept pressing on in the direction of the coast, and the next day we came up and overtook a small band of the thieves, who had about a dozen of our horses. There were about seventy horses stolen.
Here we counseled with the Indians until morning, when Chief Joe sent two of his braves and several of the horse thieves in different directions to bring in the horse thieves and the remaining horses.
After camping here a few days, two bands of Indians came in with about twenty horses. At the end about eight days, one of the braves arrived with Wolfskin, a subchief, who had headed the horse thieves down near the mouth of the Rogue River, as he said that he saw the ocean, and who had the remaining horses.
Wolfskin was very defiant. I recognized him and knew that he had been in our camp the day before the horses were stolen. With Wolfskin, came some Indians from the mouth of the river, who Chief Joe said, had never seen a white man. They skulked around in the brush but would not be persuaded to come out in sight or into the camp.
After the horses and the thieves came in, the Indians seated themselves in a circle and commenced a pow-wow, that lasted several days. On the afternoon of the last day of this council, Wolfskin jumped up and out into the middle of the circle and commenced to harangue the Indians, all the time he kept pointing to us.
Finally old Chief Joe got up and walked over to Wolfskin, and took hold of him and set him down, and pulling off his coat, which Mr. Perkins had given him, he gave the coat to Wolfskin, to put on, which he did. Chief Joe then dismissed the council, and we hastily gathered our horses and started for the Ferry on the Rogue River. Perkins and Joe riding up ahead in the lead, Keys and one Indian riding in the center, while Mr. Hart and I with the other two Indians brought up the rear.
We had gone only about eight miles when we discovered that the other Indians who had taken a shorter and different route were following us. Here we again began some very hard riding. The Indians finally came so close that I told one of them to keep back or I would fire at him. They then took to ridges and endeavored to intercept us at a point of rocks that hung out over the river. We reached the point first just as the Indians were coming down the bluffs. This conduct of the Indians, I never fully understood.
One of the braves said to me, in explanation, that the Indians were, "sullux" (mad) because they had to give up the horses. Now while we were at the council, we ran entirely out of provisions and had to live on grouse and fox squirrel.
This Mr. Keys was a man that I never understood either. He had lost no horses, but he not only loaned me a horse to ride on the trip but volunteered to accompany us himself, apparently out of the pure love of adventure. This was something very foreign to me, I assure you.
Well we finally arrived back at our camp on Applegate Creek, and found the men in charge of the camp, very uneasy about us, as we had been gone sixteen days. They were also contemplating moving on to the newly discovered mines at Yreka, as they had about given us up for lost. This Mr. Haty was a man well acquainted with the ways of the Indians as he had been with Sublette in the Rocky Mountains. All men on the frontier were acquainted with the name, "Sublette."
We now started for Yreka, and when we arrived at the new diggings, near the present city of Yreka, there were about twenty men with six or eight rockers, at work. They had taken out about a half bushel of gold, much of it quite coarse; some single pieces yielded hundreds of dollars. Many nuggets ranged in size from that of a prune pit to as large as a walnut. Several tales of men having taken out as much as fifteen to eighteen hundred dollars in a single day working alone were in circulation.
But as the land here was all taken up, we went prospecting and soon found fair digging. A few days after our arrival here, the Indians stampeded William Martins corral and drove off a lot of stock. These were the Pitt River Indians. The miners made up a party and followed them and when they overtook the band the miners killed quite a number of the Indians and took the rest prisoners, and in a few days passed our camp in the following manner: First came two scouts, with their horses bits adorned with fresh Indian scalps reaching nearly to the ground; next came a litter bearing a wounded man with an arrow in his chest; next came the Indians on foot, and then the rest of the scouts, bringing up the rear.
Colonel Ross, of Southern Oregon, was with this party, and I met him in Portland, a few years ago. He told me that when they tracked the Indians into a bunch of willows on Pitt River, that they quietly dismounted and crawled up through the tall grass; when they were getting quite near the Indian camp, one Indian, who was on guard stuck his head around a bunch of willows, and Ross shot him between the eyes. They then rushed the Indian camp, and soon disposed of the Indian bucks, and took the women and children prisoner, but were not very successful in recovering much of the stock.
One day while I was at Yreka, and while the party of miners were out after the Indians, as just above mentioned, there arose a controversy in camp between the Californians and the Oregonians. The Californians contended that if the Indians were properly treated they would be peaceful enough, while the Oregonians claimed that the only good Indians were dead ones. There were some hundreds of miners about and, many had been drinking some very strong whiskey. The excitement was great; the Californians were supported by Buffalo Bill, a local title and not the famous plainsman, the Oregonians were supported by a Doc Fruit and a Mr. Collins from Olympia, Wash.
Following the controversy, Doc Fruit jumped up and took after a pet Indian, who was accused of being a party to the raid on Martins corral. In the melee that followed the Indian was killed. This and more whiskey brought on several fights among the miners. Doubtless many old Oregonians remember this day.
In the meantime we heard of a rich strike on Smith River, in the Rogue River country. My partner, Mr. Scott, said that if I would go over there and take up a claim and if I found the gold richer he would sell our claim and come on over. So in company with a Mr. Shievely, who was a member of the Astoria Townsite Company, we started out and when we arrived at the crossing of Smith River we camped to do some looking around. While camped here we heard some shooting, and the next day we found where a party of prospectors had had a fight with the Indians and three Indians and one Whiteman had been killed.
We overtook William Greenwood, of Howell on the way, and when we got to Josephine Creek we found a party of miners who had fair diggings. Here the Greenwood party tried to dodge us but we struck their trail, and finally arrive at Humbug Creek, a tributary of Josephine Creek. Here we found fair gold digging. We unpacked and camped. Some New York men, who commenced work after we left turned out over three thousand dollars.
While camped here one evening, I had the misfortune to get my hand severely crushed by a large boulder under which I was working. That same evening, Paul Darst, of the Waldo Hills, camped with us and from him I received the first news from home that I had had since leaving in the spring. After getting my hand crushed, I saw that I would not be able to do much work for some time, and being somewhat broken down in health, I decided to return home.
On arriving at the Rogue River Ferry I learned that the United States troops, while out on a scouting expedition, had been attacked by the Indians, and that Capt. Stewart had been killed by a wounded Indian. At the time he was shot he was leaning over in the saddle to finish the Indian with the butt of his pistol, and the Indian shot him with an arrow. I also learned that Joseph Lane was down at the Big Bar, raising a troop of volunteers to put the Indians down.
As it was very dangerous to go through Southern Oregon, I hesitated which course to take. I finally met two men, a Mr. Rogers and another by the name of Savage who were on their way north, and in company with them started on my way home. This Rogers was a very reckless man, as reckless as I ever met.
When we got to Jump Off Joe Creek, A creek very well known in early Southern Oregon history, we found that the Indians were waiting for us, but by fast riding we beat them to the Canyon, where we stopped to let our horses eat a little grass and to pick a few strawberries for ourselves. Here we discovered that the Indians were on our trail, so we hastily mounted our tired horses and passed through this dangerous canyon, on the darkest night that I ever saw. We then camped on the South Umpqua River. From this point after several days of tedious riding we finally arrived home in the Waldo Hills.
I will here mention, that while Mr. Williamson and myself were at the station on Five Mile Creek, he told me that the Cow-Creek Indians kept up their depredation in the neighborhood of Shasta, after I left, and the end of my first year in California. The miners formed a company and surrounded the Indian village. Then the Indians took refuge in a large mud fort. Nathan Olney and Capt. Benjamin Wright, rushed up to a hole in the top of the fort and emptied their revolvers into the struggling mass of Indians inside and then piled brush combustible on the top of the fort and set it on fire. Any Indians that attempted to escape was shot but most remained inside and perished in the flames.
He also told me that Mr. Van Dusan, the old bear hunter of Shasta, shot a large grizzly on Clear Creek, one day and followed it into the canyon. The bear laid for the hunter and sprung upon him before he could use his gun. The bear broke Van Susan’s arm and tore out his bowels. A party that went in search of him found him where the encounter took place. His rifle lay on the ground, broken at the breech, and still loaded. His revolver had one chamber fired. The bear lay dead. They trailed Van Dusan and found him and his little dog, where he had crawled nearly a quarter of a mile away, with his bowels protruding. They carried him to Shasta, where he died very shortly afterwards.
Not long after my arrival at home, my father was married, July 1st, 1851, to Mrs. Nancy Smith, widow of Dr. Smith, who died on his way to Oregon, July 1, 1847, and was buried on the left bank of Green River, in Wyoming. He was Capt. of a company of Missourians, among whom were the Kimseys, Townsends, Turners, and Bensons. The above mentioned families mostly settled in Polk County.
(Note: L.A. Hunt - from other sources I learned that this Dr. Smith had been fairly well to do in Missouri. After getting everything ready for his trip to Oregon, in order to be sure that he would have something to come back to if he did not like Oregon, he bought a farm in Missouri and then paid the taxes in advance upon this for three years. He felt sure that his would give him ample time to take care of anything that might come up. After his death the situation with the Indians was so unsettled that his wife did not feel safe to make the return trip, and at the legal time set for non payment of taxes, the land was sold by the county and she never received anything from it. You see that while they crossed the plains the same year as George W. and his father, they were in a different company.)
Upon my arrival home I found that my father had established a mail route from Salem to his farm, and the Post Office was called Lebanon. (L.A. Hunt - I don’t think this is the present Lebanon, and believe the name was later changed to Whiteaker). He was also engaged in burning a brick-kiln. The first one in the Waldo Hills.
A VERY IMPORTANT EVENT IN MY LIFE
On the third of August, 1851, I was married to Miss Elizabeth N. Smith, a daughter of Dr. Smith, whom I mentioned in the preceding chapter. At the time of our marriage I was in my twentieth year, and my wife was seventeen. Our union has been blessed with six children; namely Temperance E. now Mrs. Robert F. Ashby of Albany, Oregon.
Josephine E., born Dec. 21, 1853 and died July 16, 1854.
Georgia I. Born Aug. 28, 1858, now Mrs. J. L. Hunt of Oakland, Oregon.
Melancthon W. was born April 14, 1860. He is now an attorney in Salem, Oregon. He married Minnie McMonies, in 1883.
Jeptha T. Hunt, was born Feb. 12, 1862, and married Myrtle E. White, in 1866. He is now a farmer in the Waldo Hills.
Sarah F. was born April 27, 1871. She married Dr. Burpee Laban Steeves, April 18, 1893.
A few days after our marriage we moved to our homestead, where the present post office of Whiteaker is located.
Not long after our marriage we commenced holding family worship, and this alter, with more or less faithfulness, has been kept up ever since, although at this time my wife was unconverted, but she was very shortly afterward.
Here at this homestead, I followed farming, fruit raising, and stock raising, and for thirty eight years sold merchandise, and have been successful in every line of business that I have undertaken. (L.A. Hunt - I remember once when I went with my father to the State Fair, we went out to my grandfather Geor. W. Hunts, place, and when we were in his store he gave me a black-handled knife.) I have always asked the Lord to bless me and my labors in these undertakings.
To return to the Hunt Family. As I have known them, they were usually men of their word and could be trusted. They were very free of scrofulous diseases, and I never knew of but one drunkard and he afterwards reformed. Until about twenty years ago, I knew of very few of them that used tobacco. The family as I have known them were not given to vulgar and foolish conversation.
The Old Elkhorn Church, in Wayne Co., Indiana, is still a faithful landmark of the early Hunt settlement. This church was built over eighty years ago. (L.A. Hunt- G.W. Hunt wrote this account just prior to 1890.) The hunt family during the Rebellion, remained loyal to the Union. One of them was a member of Pres. Hayes Cabinet. He was a Southern man but remained loyal to his country.
The Hunt Family as a rule are not politicians, but were home builders, who loved the quite life. Many of them were bankers, merchants, artisans, and generally were successful in their undertakings. The early families had mostly Christian names, and there were a great many G.W. Hunts. That name is known from the Atlantic to the Pacific. I will here mention that I was the original importer of the celebrated Shropshire Down sheep into Oregon.
After my father’s second marriage, he moved to Salem, Oregon and engaged in the hotel business. He kept the old Bennette hotel, and afterwards bought the Cook Hotel, in North Salem, where he died in November, 1860 at the age of fifty seven. He was buried by the side of his former wife, in the Hunt Family burying ground, in the Waldo Hills, near Clymer, Oregon..
MY RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE
In 1886 I received a grand uplift in my Christian experience. I had sought the Lord at the age of thirteen years, and had been adopted into his family. My conversion was very clear. My Sabbath School teacher was Middleton Burnsides, a brother of General Burnsides. My conversion occurred in the town of Liberty, Indiana, where my father was operating a wagon and carriage factory.
T.H. Organ, a holiness evangelist, came to Whiteaker, and preached on Christian perfection. Having been in the wilderness with an up and down experience, like Peter before his upper room experience, and having been a member of the church for about twenty five years, I was considerably interested in Brother Organ’s preaching.
I was at times quite faithful in my religious experience. I was Class leader at one time of a group of about seventy members. I was Sunday School Supt. For many years at a time. But some times during this period, it would occur to me. "Is there not a better experience for Christians, than they seem to have." And I would cry from the depth of my soul. Lord give my soul rest." I would wander up to the banks of the Jordan, but hearing the report of the spies, would turn back discouraged.
After the meetings closed at Whiteaker, the Holy Spirit led me in spite of my many business affairs, to attend a Holiness meeting down at Philomath, Oregon. There I saw my privilege, and presented my body a living sacrifice on the alter, and realized that whatever toucheth the Altar is Holy. I here testified, without any feeling that I was sanctified by the Word of God.
After a few hours testing, I received the baptism of fire and the Holy Spirit. Jesus swept out of the temple all the money-changers and those that sold doves, and took up his adobe in the temple, and I realized that now I had a pure heart and was sanctified, wholly. Since that time I have had a heaven, to go to heaven in. I found giants and walled cities, and men of great stature, in this Land of Cannan, but it indeed floweth with milk and honey.
My life is hid with Christ in God, and I trust; and Jesus keeps me from all sin, and cleanses me from fithiness (sic.) of the flesh.
"I am my Lord’s, and he is mine, and
Oh, the joy and peace of the life I live,
Trusting in the promise of my Saviour."
Some weeks after this meeting I had trouble with my unruly tongue, and for a few weeks I seemed to die to sin daily. But I realized that the old man, (Inbred sin) is cast out with all his roots of bitterness, and that Jesus Christ was manifest to destroy all the works of the Devil, and does save to the uttermost all that come to God by Him. This is simply gong on unto perfection. I can sin and be tempted, but Jesus just keeps me saved, and my life is a life of trust; and this is nothing more than Christian perfection, or Christ -likeness, as taught on every page in the Bible.
I found that there were two baptisms; the baptism of John, by water for the remission of sins, or a sigh of pardon, and the baptism that John spoke of that Jesus came to give, the baptism of the Holy Ghost and of fire.
I here testify that I have grown more in Grace and Christ-likeness, in less than three years just past, than I ever grew in over forty years in my justifycation .
Now dear reader, if you want this blessed experience, of entire sanctifycation, just take it by faith; for we read, "That he that hath this hope in him purifieth himself, even as he is pure."
I can compare my forty years in the wilderness life, to a sort of serving the Lord as the son of the bond woman, legal service. For we are bought with a price; while, "If the Son hath made you free then you are free indeed." I now follow the Lord with a free, joyous, gladsome service, and my peace floweth like a river. Glory to God and the Lamb forever. Amen.
A DAUGHTER’S REMEMBRANCE
The following information is taken from the writing of George W. Hunt’s daughter, Sarah, concerning her father and mother.
My father, George W. Hunt was a man who stood five foot eleven inches tall. He was rather broad shouldered, and usually weighed about one hundred and ninety pounds.
He was one of the leading men of his community and served a term as master of the Oregon State Grange, and was a charter member of the Oregon Agricultural Society.
He imported from Wisconsin, the first Shropshire sheep into Oregon, in 1883. He paid three hundred dollars for the first ram and it died en-route. He then paid six hundred dollars for a pair of these sheep, making a total cost of nine Hundred dollars for these two sheep. Quite a price at that time, but the breed proved to be very popular and he was well repaid for his venture.
He was a man of strong intellect and deep piety. He made his home, the Open Door, for the traveling ministers, and gave liberally of his means for the support of the gospel.
He took up a claim down on the Columbia, but later gave it up as he found that he liked the Waldo Hills better. He first met his wife upon his return from his second trip to the mines. When he arrived home his father had been married about a month, and apparently George liked his new stepsister very much, even at first sight as he and Elizabeth Nancy were married after and acquaintance of only three weeks.
After their marriage, his wife took up a Donation Claim of 320 acres near Sublimity in the Waldo Hills, and George W. bought the claim of Paul Darst, which adjoined his wifes’ claim, paying one thousand dollars for this claim. This gave George and his wife a mile square of land in the heart of the Waldo Hills.
Their children remember their home as unusually happy, and where love never died. George and Elizabeth continued to live at the old homestead for thirty-eight years. They then moved to Salem and left the farm in the care of their son Jeptha. His wife was called to he final rest only just over forty years of married life. Her husband lingered for about eleven years before he, too, received his Master’s call. They both lie buried in the Odd Fellows Cemetery in Salem, Oregon.
Elizabeth, Nancy (Smith) Hunt, was a devoted wife and mother. Hers was a jolly disposition and full of fun. She was of Irish ancestry by virtue of a great grandmother. Her hair was a dark brown and her eyes a green gray. She had a rosy fresh complection and was plump of figure, weighing at the most one hundred and seventy four pounds. She always carried her head high, and to quote her husband, "she was not afraid of man, beast nor devil."
She was at one time lectured for the Oregon State Grange, and at one time was chosen to represent the State of Oregon at the Centennial Exposition, in 1876, but declined because this would take her for too long a time from her home.
She was a true helpmate to her husband, and a typical pioneer woman. She was born in the south of Democratic ancestry, but as her husband was a Republican, she was always a true Republican in those days before women had the right of suffrage.
She and her husband, always took a keen interest in the Oregon State Fair. Both planned for displays.
She was a woman of strong personality, very capable, and one to whom her neighbors, as well as her family, turned to in time of trouble.
She was a good Christian woman, and her children rise up to call her "Blessed."
AND SO ENDS ANOTHER CHAPTER IN THE ANNALS OF THE HUNT FAMILY.