"Im going to yoke up all six oxen this morning, Mary Ann".

 "I've wondered when they would be ready to begin the plowing, James."

"Ready or not, it is time to plant the winter wheat. I had to give them a rest, and let them gain weight and strength back. I'm thankful they made it through the journey alive. So many oxen and horses and mules did not." 

"Can I watch you hook up the oxen, Uncle James?"

"Sure, Mary Ann but you have to stand where I say. They'll need plenty of room, and you don't want to have one of them accidentally step on you."

Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International Author: Cgoodwin

"I'll stay where you tell me. I just want to see you work with them. They listen and watch you and act as if they understand exactly what you want them to do."

"That is because I've trained them from the start of their lives. They're like people, little Mary -- they learn fastest when they are little and growing. It is hard for them to get new ideas in their heads once they're full grown."

[Visit my page on the Oregon Trail for links to understand training oxen, etc.]

"What we need here is a ferry,"

said my father, Richard, as he walked up to our campfire. "I've talked to Martin, and Thompson, and Jones and they agree -- we have to be able to get across the river. It will be years before we get a bridge in this area."

By Photographer: Marion Post Wolcott (1910-1990)Restoration: Adam Cuerden

see end of text for copyright information

"You're right as usual, Richard. I'll help you any way I can."

"Thanks, James. I knew I could depend on you and Ed. The neighbors are eager to help also -- we all need the ferry here to make our trips to the west less time consuming."

"How will you keep the ferry line from tangling with the paddlewheel boats that come by?" 

"Good question, daughter."

"You probably already arranged for weights to attach to the line, that will sink it when you relax the tension. The boats will just go over it."

"That is just what I have planned James. Let's get at it. There's a row boat waiting for us at the river, that I borrowed at Harrisburg, upstream from us."

"I don't know if I'll ever get used to "upstream" meaning south and "downstream" meaning north. I've never seen another river like the Willamette." Turning to Mary Ann, James added, "I'll be back by dark. Is there anything you want me to bring you from the general store?"

"More bacon and cornmeal if you please, James." "Will do" James said and stole a kiss as he was leaving.

This image is a work of an employee of the United States Farm Security Administration or Office of War Information domestic photographic units, taken as part of that person's official duties. As a work of the U.S. federal government, the image is in the public domain in the United States.

There we were, all of us lying on our backs

in a circle, staring up at the sky. Nothing much was going on there - just the ordinary spectacle of beauty and light. We stared for a while in silence, and then Richard remarked in that low, slow, baritone voice he has:

"When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained; What is man, that thou art mindful of him?" (Psalm 8)

By Steve Jurvetson - Flickr, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=23906915

First there was silence, then Edward asked,

"Do you think, James, there will ever come a time where people will take all this for granted? A time where no one will care if they see the Milky Way each night or not?"

"I don't know Ed - but I do know this -- if such a time ever came, I would not want to be a part of it. It is like asking if we could ever lose our humanity. Some questions are too dreadful to contemplate."

"What makes the stars, Aunt Mary?" piped up little Mary Ann. Everyone laughed, and my brother replied,

"Now there is a question that is just my size. I should be able to tell you all about it -- after I have studied it for a few years." We laughed again and it was time for us all to get our rest. We had to get up with the sun, if only to keep up with our daily work.

Walking hand in hand, by the river...

 Mary Ann and James Sherrill were quietly absorbing the sounds of their land at twilight. Edward Evans, Mary Ann's brother, had offered to watch over the children so that Mary Ann and James could take time for each other.

"Oh look James - there goes one of the paddlewheelers!" 

"Looks like it's a side-wheeler, Mary Ann. The name on the side says it's the ''OREGON''. I heard that it only went from Marysville (~Corvalis) to Oregon City, so I'm surprised to see it this far upstream. There was an ad for it in the Spectator just yesterday."

                            Oregon Spectator, March 10, 1854, page 4. Public Domain (pre-1922)
"There is something wonderful about seeing it go against the flow of the river, churning the water with the paddle wheel on each side of the boat. But I don't know if I'd feel safe on one."

"There speaks the woman who traversed the Oregon Trail, with a baby along too."

"That was different, James. There was no other practical way to get here. There are roads that go where the paddle wheelers go. Rough as the roads are, that would be my choice."

"And a good thing, too, since they want $30 per passenger from Salem to Marysville."

"That is outrageous, James! Our oxen may be slow but they have served us just fine. Anyway, we'd ride the horses. We have plenty of choices."

"I'm glad I have such an economical little wife. Come sit with me on this log and I'll show you how glad."

Let Every Thing that has Breath...

 

Great Blue Heron, seen on the Willamette River
Image from Oregon State Marine Board (Public Domain)

Mary Ann Sherrill froze as soon as she came through the brush to the river, for there almost next to her was a Great Blue Heron. She slowly let out her breath, hoping the bird would stay. How she loved the quiet of morning. Each morning she walked to the river, before the children were up, and spent time thinking of God and his creation. 

 

Willamette River by OSMB, published in Willamette River Guide, page 4. (Public Domain)

How still the river was, not even a breeze through the trees along the shore. It almost felt like the first day of creation, as if she were alone in the world with only herself and God. Her heart lifted in praise to the Lord, for all the blessings of her world. Thankful for the peace and plenty of her life, she headed back to their camp, ready to make breakfast for her family. As she turned to leave, the Great Blue Heron launched itself over the water, long legs trailing, wings laboring to gain the sky. It was so still she could actually hear its wings flapping. A phrase from Psalm 50 came to her, "Let everything that has breath praise the Lord." She put a tune to it and sang as she walked home to their camp.

Mary Kyniston, a seven year old heroine - because surviving can be heroic.

Mary Ann Kyniston is playing with her only doll, talking to it as she watches over baby Mary Jane Holloway. Mary Ann Sherrill, her aunt, is over in the garden patch, setting out onions and potatoes, and beets and cabbages. Winter vegetables will barely have time to take hold before the first snow.

Mary Ann is telling her doll how important it is to watch over the baby. "Because if you don't watch out, bad things can happen. You've been through bad times too, so you understand, little dolly. Nobody else understands. Not really. They think because I was so little when mommy was hurt that I don't remember. I do remember how scared I was, and how everyone was screaming. I was screaming too. I remember that.  Grown ups get all worried and upset if I ask them about that time. It is important not to worry your grown ups, dolly. Please remember that.

The mail, the Telegraph, and the news: Wonders of the Day

 "James, I'm writing a letter to my brother David back home. He must be told about mother's death, but every time I start to write, I start to cry."

"Your father already sent him a telegram from Salem, Mary Ann."

"I didn't realize the telegram reached this far!"

"Yes, it was installed in Salem last year, and in Portland almost ten years ago. So David already knows, and you can write him when you are able to do so."

"We are living in an amazing age, James. why, we will be able to know the outcome of the election next month here in Oregon almost as soon as people back east." Yes, but I won't be able to vote for anyone until Oregon becomes a state in the union."

"Then lets go to sleep, James. You must be exhausted, after loading all those big rocks for the foundation, and hauling them to the ditch dug for them."

"Physical work is good for a man, wife. I'm enjoying making a place for my family."

"So am I, and I started sewing on the curtains for the cabin today. Do you think we can get a sewing machine someday? I saw one at the store in Brownsville for $75. (~$2,000.) That is too much for one thing, isn't it?"

"I don't have the money for one now, Mary Ann, but your father said he wants you to have one, and he made enough on selling the farm in Iowa. He already spoke to McCoy at the store, and you will have a sewing machine as soon as we finish the cabin."

"Now why are you crying?"

"Because he would have bought it for mother if she were still with us."

"Well, don't cry when he brings it over, or we'll all be bawling. Think about making some new dresses for you and for Mary Jane - and I could use a new shirt. I'll bet your dad would like one too."

"And I'll even make one for Edward, he's been wearing out his clothes on this trip, and now today he split a shirt, helping you build our cabin."

"Your brother is a good man. I appreciated him saying that he could sleep in the tent awhile longer, and we should have a roof, with the baby here."

"It is all going to be wonderful, now that we are here at Irish Bend."

"I hope you won't be too disappointed, Mary Ann"

 "But I have to tell you what your father and I decided after talking over how to build the cabin."

"I see from your face this is serious, James. I promise not to make a fuss." "Well, it's like this, Mary Ann. I planned to build you a log mansion, something 18 feet by 20 feet, but your dad says that isn't practical." "If my father says that, then it must be true." "Yes, you see Mary Ann, it's only two feet longer for all the logs, all the way around - but the extra weight of each log, to put it up after it's cut, is a lot more effort. What Richard suggests, and I agreed, is that we live with the smaller cabin this first year, and then next year we'll put another one the same size about five feet away from it. Then we cover the five foot passage - it will have a puncheon floor, of course, and we'll have what is called a dog-trot cabin.

                                            courtesy of Wikiwand, the free encyclopedia

In the summer, the passage has a cool breeze, and we'll put doors on each end so it is cozy in the winter. With a covered porch across the front of the cabins, it will look elegant and be all that we will need during the time we have to build the barn, and fencing, and break in the sod." "Let's do it, James. It is just what I always wanted - a dog-trot cabin!" "You didn't even know what that was until now, did you." Well, I didn't know what to call them, but I've liked them when I've seen them."

JAMES! shrieked Mary Ann.

 His heart racing, James leaped up, grabbed his ax, and ran to the house, sure his wife was attacked by Indians. Mary Ann was smiling and waving a white paper at him. "Look! My first letter from Louisa." "Don't ever scream like that again unless you are in danger, wife. I'm too young to have a heart attack."

"I promise, James. Look - did you ever think I could get a letter out here? Tom Martin rode by on his way back from Oregon City. This letter from Louisa was at the Post Office in General Delivery. Wasn't that nice of him to bring it over here?"

Original Art by Pandababy

I'd like some coffee to drink while you read the letter, Mary Ann. You make good coffee. Glowing with pleasure over the simple compliment, Mary Ann poured a cup of coffee from the pot hanging over the campfire. Wouldn't it be great to have a fireplace soon. "What is the news, wife?" "Louisa is being courted by a nice young man, a relative of the Martin family, and your sister Virginia tells her that next year they will have another baby." Mary Ann looked up from her letter, "No bad news, James." 

"I'm going back to work on the barn, Mary Ann. No more screaming, please!"

Not Everyone has Experience...

in building a log cabin. My father, Richard Evans, was born in Kentucky in 1798, and he grew up in a log cabin. He has seen them built, and helped build them. Here is how he described it around the campfire last night:

“Early Days in Iowa 1850 – 1900”, Washington Township, Wapello County
Mr. I. T. Flint, originally printed in the Eldon Starr Newspaper

James looked over at me with that twinkle he gets in his eyes, and remarked that our cabin could be famous someday -- like that of President Abraham Lincoln. But seriously Louisa, he has promised to put a covered porch across the front, and to add on as soon as he gets the barn, the milk shed, and fencing done. This winter, though, the animals will have more room than we will.

Plans for our new home -

James is good at drawing up plans for things. He has drawn plans for the first cabin we will have here. He has made several different views, but I'll start Louisa, by showing you the one as seen from above. 

It is just a one room cabin, 18 feet by 20 feet in round figures, so 360 square feet. I think this is a perfect number, as that is how many acres we have in our new home - 360 acres. Well, if you'd been living for six months in a covered wagon measuring 4 feet by ten feet, you would also think our cabin to be very roomy indeed. It will even have a fireplace.

James and Mary Ann's new home, courtesy of Library of Congress,
Historic American Buildings Survey, creator

Today we walked our land, Rejoicing

 After a cold breakfast and quickly packing up the wagon we hurried as fast as oxen feet can plod to our new home.

I never saw land so beautiful before. We set up our wagons where our three claims meet - Edward's, mine and James, and father's,  Our homes will be nearby, for ease of visiting, and help if needed. The men will make a path to the river we can all use, and cut back the heavy brush and timber on the bank so we can get water. Later they'll make a landing at the river - a paddle wheel boat has already passed by.

The Thompsons are a mile south, the Martins are a mile north, but they and the Bonds and others are all coming to meet at our camp here for Sunday service this evening. Right now the men are staking their claims, and first thing tomorrow morning they will ride south to enter the claims at the Government Land Office at Roseburg. We are a little closer to Oregon City - where the other Land Office is, but James says the Oregon City Land Office is too busy with claims, and Roseburg will be better.

                                           Bald Eagles in a Tree - Public Domain

So today it has been just me and Mary Ann Kyniston and our baby, Mary Jane. I point towards the river, "See the big birds! What great big birds are flying above the bend in the river." Mary Jane didn't notice, but Mary Ann asks me what they are. I tell her the birds with white and blue wings are blue herons, and they like to eat fish. They are diving at the river for their dinner. Mary Ann laughs at the idea of getting wet every day for a meal.There are flocks of ducks swarming now for the end of the day. The white swans have gone to their rest, and there are so many birds I cannot identify half of them. Only the large ones are easy to know at a distance. A pair of eagles are perched in large trees nearby.

I put the girls down for the night, wishing James were here.

Brownsville, Oregon has a decent general store, so

 we all replaced things we ran out of, like dried apple slices for apple pie.

we bought dried apple slices for pie, and other food we needed.

2 February 2020 (according to Exif data).  Own work.  Shisma

we bought dried apple slices for pie, and other food we needed.

2 February 2020 (according to Exif data).  Own work.  Shisma

This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International license.

 

 

 

It is all worth it now -- being on short rations the last month of our trip, because of the food we traded away to the hungry Indians, who came asking; and what we gave to the wagon train of women going backwards on the trail - back to their homes in the east. Their husbands had all died of cholera. No one was left to work their land claims. 

We will camp out behind the store tonight, and early tomorrow head to our claim. By nightfall our cabins will be started. 

Will it be like where you grew up, James?

Mary Ann asked her question from the trail this morning. Baby Mary Jane was taking a nap in the wagon, and it felt good to walk beside it, stretching her legs. 

James looked over and replied, "In some ways it will be the same, in other ways it will be very different."

"Don't tease me, James. Tell me a story from when you were growing up in Alabama by the Coosa River."

"Very well, then. I'll tell you about the time I went fishing for catfish, and caught a turtle instead."

Author Leejcooper. This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license.

"A turtle! what could you do with a turtle?"

"Our cook could do a lot with a turtle - she made a delicious turtle soup with it."

"Will there be turtles in the Willamette River too, James?"

"Where do you come up with all these questions!" 

"I just want to be prepared. I'll find a recipe for turtle soup." "Now what are you laughing about James?"

"You make me happy, MaryAnn. I'm happy you have it in you to adapt to whatever we find in our new home -- even turtles for soup."

Clark, H. Walton, and United States Bureau Of Fisheries. Report. 1919. Appendix 7. Fresh-Water Turtles: A Source of Meat Supply. Washington, Govt. print. off, 1920. Image. https://www.loc.gov/item/f20000157/.

STAMPEDE!

 

We can hardly see the wagons for the dust from the stampede.
Photo by O. Ned Eddins, all rights reserved.

The oxen in front of us are running away with their wagons, but James is holding onto the brakes, and we're all right. We're praying for everyone to be protected and safe. My family is in danger. I'm asking God with all my heart, mind and soul to save them from harm.

Oh! to be so close to the end of the trail, and have another stampede - they're the most dangerous thing I've seen on this journey. We had a big stampede at the start of the trail. The oxen were strong and fresh, and the drivers were not all experienced. Kyniston's wagon overturned in that stampede. He was shaken up and bruised. Here now, the runaways ahead are already slowing down, and no wagons overturned.

I'm glad I didn't know all the things that would happen on this trip before we left - I never would have had the courage to face it. Perhaps that is why we only need the courage to live one day at a time.

The colors say fall is here.

 

I would love these colors more if they didn't say to us "hurry, snow is coming".
Photo by O. Ned Eddins, all rights reserved.

The trees are like a symphony in motion. The bright yellows are sopranos - the flutes, and the oranges are the tenors, while the dark evergreens are the bass. I talk to little Mary Jane about the songs the trees are singing to us, and she laughs and pats my face and nods as if she understands every word. She is such a joy, now that her tooth has come in. We are going nowhere today, not because of a breakdown, but because our father is adamant about some things, and honoring Sunday is one of them. He says the cattle need rest as much or more than we do.

After I serve the breakfast of corn bread and beans with bacon, we gather to sing and hear James read the Bible. He begins with Psalm 92:

 It is a good thing to give thanks unto the LORD, and to sing praises unto thy name, O most High:

2To shew forth thy loving kindness in the morning, and thy faithfulness every night,

and then he turns to Romans 11:

 O the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! how unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past finding out!

I look over at my  brother Edward, and as our eyes meet, I realize we are thinking the same thing: how it is beyond our understanding, that our mother was taken from us.

We need the peace of this day, and the rest.

Last night the men said that if....

 .... if we could make at least ten miles a day, we would be on our land in twelve or thirteen days. Today they said we went eleven and a half miles. They could tell by this contraption that is fastened to the wagon wheel. Have you ever seen one? It is called an odometer.

This funny looking contraption is how we kept track of how many miles we went each day.
Photo by Ned Eddins - all rights reserved

I'm hoping for good weather, because wet ground makes for slow travel. It is September, though, and we've been told in Oregon that means rain.I'm working to take my mind off how fast - or slow - we are going, by planning what to buy as soon as we get to a store. The prices at the small places we have stopped so far have been too high. We are not that desperate. We have had to be careful about using up our food, because we could not depend on finding game to make it go farther. We had to plan for the worst and hope for the best, so that if we were delayed in our travel, we wouldn't run out of food. Too tired and sleepy to write more, Louisa.Good night!

A few more Days Until...

Mary Ann sat next to James, who was next to her father Richard, who was next to Jacob Thompson, and Rhoda Thompson sat next to her husband Jacob. But her maiden name was Evans, and Mary Ann wasn't sure if Rhoda was a cousin or an aunt, but she was a relative from back in Indiana. Thomas Martin stood behind Mary Ann's father, -- he was an in-law, because Mary Ann's brother David was married to Virginia Martin. It felt so safe and secure to grow up in the middle of relatives, and even though they moved from Indiana to Iowa and now to Oregon, their relatives moved with them.

Richard's map of Irish Bend on the Willamette River

Walton Bros. Oregon, from government surveys by the order of the State Board. [1876] Map. https://www.loc.gov/item/2010592553/.

Everyone wanted to see the map - again. After pouring over it night after night back in Iowa, it was still the touchstone for their dreams of a lush farm on the river. Mary Ann kept saying she couldn't wait to see their new place, and James kept telling her to not expect too much, it would be just bare land at first. She heard him but she didn't listen, and went to sleep populating her new home (yet to be built) with furniture (also yet to be made). Hope was what made them keep going. It was a good thing.

Louisa, I never would have thought -

When James and I walked in the evening twilight, and planned how our lives were going to be in Oregon, I never would have thought of the kind of day I had today!

Fall colors proclaim our need to start building our cabin.
Photo by Ned Eddins - all rights reserved.

James and I talked about the sights we'd see in the beautiful, wild west. In all our talks, I never pictured myself using a pretty creek like this one, the way I used it today. Yes Louisa, I'm writing about filling our bucket with creek water -- especially getting all of Mary Jane's diapers clean for the last week of our trip. Whew! This can't be what we imagined our Oregon Trail honeymoon would be. We thought of romantic, exciting days or dangerous nights, but it is much like life at home, only less comfortable and convenient. In fact, it is downright hard, dirty, and exhausting most days.

If it were not for the 320 acres of farm land waiting for us in the Willamette Valley, I would hardly have the heart to keep going. Everyone is so tired, and small surprise -- we have walked most of the way for nearly 2,170 miles this summer. Yes, we knew before we started how long it would be, but there is a big difference between knowing and doing.

Just don't say "I told you so" when you answer this, Louisa.

Your tired but loving friend,

MaryAnn

Dear Louisa,

 My Dear Friend,

I promised to write something everyday, even if there was no way to post it. I promised to save it up and send it to you when we came to civilization and I could post it. I thought it would be so easy... with nothing to do all day but ride in the wagon, and hold the baby. Nobody told me about teething babies, Louisa!

Mary Jane turns one year old this week.

Dear little Mary Jane becomes a monster when her teeth are coming in, like a few of them are right now. She gets a feverish look, red-cheeked and sweaty faced. Her sweet smile disappears, and she keeps her fingers in her mouth. She begins to whimper, and then she'll be crying at the top of her lungs. When it hurts her the most, I rub some of James' special liquid from his flask on her gums. She smiles, and hick-ups, and falls asleep.James teases me and won't tell me what is in his flask, but I know it is some kind of whisky.

We take turns comforting her during the day -- but at night! Nobody gets to sleep around a teething baby. Here is a drawing of our darling I did for you - can you see the pucker she gets between her eyes? So that is my reason for missing my daily journal entry for you. Don't dismiss it lightly until you've had a teething baby of your own, dear friend.

SHHh! Did you hear THAT?

 James rolled over and asked, "hear what'?

"I think I heard something sniffing around the wagon!" 

"Probably Scout, just doing her job."

"James, I'm sure it wasn't your dog. What if it is a bear? What if it's a grizzly?"

"Scout would be growling and barking, not just sniffing. Please go to sleep, Mary Ann!"

"I can't sleep with a bear prowling around outside."

"Well I can't sleep with you worrying for nothing. You'll wake the baby. I'll go shoot it for you, whatever it is."

"Be careful, James"

(low laughter) - "I won't let the big bad possum get me."

"I heard the shot, James. What did you shoot?"

"It was a racoon. We're near the river, so there's a lot of critters wandering around at night, going for a drink." 

"Racoons are cute. They look like bandits with a mask on. I hope you didn't hurt it."

"I winged it, a strong warning that a man has to get his sleep at night - or else!"

"Message received, James. Good night!"

"Good night, sweetheart."

{The voice you often 'hear' in this blog is that of Mary Ann Evans, nineteen years old, newly married to James Sherrill. They are on their honeymoon on the Oregon Trail, on their way to claiming 320 aces of river-bottom land by the Willamette River. I'd show you a picture of the racoon, but it was night, and too dark to get a good picture.}

 

Rainbows Ahead of Us

 The flood of grief is behind us, and hope is before us. We are all filled with awe at the sight of a double rainbow just ahead. James starts singing and everyone joins in. Wayfaring Stranger by Southern Raised

The Promise of Our God
(Image by Ned Eddins, All Rights Reserved. Used by special permission.)

So close to the place we've dreamed about

We stopped at Philip Foster's Farm last night, after a five hour journey from Laurel Hill Pass. Mr. Foster was hospitable and generous. We ate well at dinner last night, and camped in his pasture.Today we began the last leg of our epic journey. Our father kept a journal on his first trip to Oregon Territory, two years ago. It will be over a hundred miles to reach our homestead on the Willamette River - another ten days if we have no breakdowns.

The Willamette River from https://stateparksoregon.gov

It is already September. We don't have any time to waste, if we want to be in our own cabin before the snows arrive.

Laurel Hill

We were at the top of Laurel Hill. All our belongings were tied down in our wagon, and strong ropes were tightly tied to the back of the wagon, then wrapped around the biggest trees. Nobody could ride down Laurel Hill -- too dangerous. We would be thankful to get our wagon down in one piece. I could see the belongings of travelers before us, scattered among the ferns and rocks, too steep to cross over and fetch them. 

 

The Chute on Laurel Hill, Licensed to the Public Domain.

I stood with the women and we watched - and yes we prayed too, as the men took the ropes at the back end and the oxen at the front end in hand, and began the slow, careful work to let our wagon down to the bottom of Laurel Hill. Wagons already at the bottom of the hill were forming up on the trail.

Just then our wagon went over the steep edge, held back by ropes around trees and dragging a large log behind to slow the descent. Once over the crest, it looked as if our wagon was pointing straight down. Edward's guide book says it is a 60% incline of over 2,000 feet from the crest to the base of the hill. To me it just looked impossible. Suddenly, a small object flew out of the front of our wagon. I couldn't see it among the ferns. What had not been tied down? 

Oh no! It must be what I was reading while riding the wagon yesterday. I was in a hurry to make dinner when we stopped. I thrust my small New Testament and Psalms under the wagon seat, meaning to put it away later.

My best friend Louisa Martin, back in Iowa gave it to me, and said it would be helpful if hard times came to us. After Ma drowned, I read every night, where Jesus says he is going to make a place for us, so we can be with him after we die. Ma and Pa never had a chance to go to school, and they made us all go to school as kids. That New Testament was my only book. 

My eyes were leaking tears when I understood I wouldn't be getting it back. At least I still had the parts I already memorized.

 

Who were these ancestors of James Sherrill - the pioneer, the inventor, the farmer who traveled over 2,200 miles on the Oregon Trail in 1852. What genetic traits did James inherit? What did his ancestors do? Here, in part, is the answer:

Hugh Sherrill, James' father, established a farm in Alabama by 1835, when it was a frontier. They grew indigo and cotton. About ten years later Hugh moved his family to Iowa, the new frontier. When Hugh died in 1849,  James went to live with his sister Margaret, and he worked on her husband's farm there in Iowa. According to Margaret's diary, written at the time, James could plow with a team of twelve oxen, yoked double.

Joshua White Sherrill, James' grandfather, Joshua was a young man in the prime of his life when the War of Independence began in 1775. Joshua went to war, and with many of his cousins, fought in a company commanded by his father.

William Sherrill. Captain Sherrill's group distinguished themselves at the Battle of King's Mountain in South Carolina. They helped win that turning point in the war.

James Sherrill. James' ancestors were farmers and pioneers, and when life demanded it, also warriors. As soon as the opportunity presented itself, James also went to farm on the frontier, which by then was Oregon Territory.

[Just to orient my young relatives in time - James Sherrill was the great-great-grandfather of Kenneth Dellinger, who fought in WWII. I have not forgotten Mary Ann and what happens to her next on the Oregon Trail. I'll get to that tomorrow.] 

A Point of Decision

As we approach The Dalles,we must make a decision. Should we load our wagons and ourselves onto the log rafts, after sending our cattle by land on the Lolo trail? Or should we take the Barlow cut-off, and pay the five dollar per wagon toll? Pa made the decision after holding a conference with the other men. Each family had to do what was best for them -- a few chose the rafts for speed and economy.

I'm so thankful that pa chose the Barlow trail. I'd rather climb ten mountains than ride a raft down a river.

Tomorrow: Laurel Hill, or What happened to my most cherished possession.