History of the Pacific Northwest, Oregon and
Washington, 1889
Samuel Kimbrough Barlow was born in Nicolas
Co Kentucky, January 14, 1795. He was of Scotch origin, and
inherited many of the sterling qualities of his ancestors.
His race was remarkable for an unswerving fidelity to principles
of right; and on every occasion these principles were disseminated
or defended by courage which sometimes almost amounted to
audacity. Freedom of speech and will and progression in all
things were also marked characteristics of the ancestors
of S.K. Barlow. Illustrative of these features of disposition
in the Barlow family, a story is told of the fearlessness
of the paternal grandfather of S.K. Barlow, who, just before
the breaking out of the Revolutionary war, at the time that
the hot-bed of dissolution was brewing, refused to take off
his hat to one of the King's squires; and, when remonstrated
with and further aggravated by the squire cheering and shouting "Hurrah
for King George," audaciously knocked him down. It was
the custom, at this time, for each man to raise his hat to
the King's officers; and to known one of them down greatly
increased the magnitude of the crime.
This was no doubt the prime cause of the
hero of this sketch being born in Kentucky; for the old gentleman,
not wishing to encounter or to submit to such insolence,
preferred to isolate himself from such scenes until the time
came for him to take up arms in defense of the principles
which he then so emphatically advocated. He therefore moved
into the rural districts of Virginia, not far from the borders
of Kentucky. This early insight into frontier life imbued
into the minds of his descendants pioneer dispositions. His
oldest son, William, the father of Samuel K., was the first
one to leave the paternal roof. He followed the trail of
Daniel Boone into the wilds of Kentucky. Here, for several
years, he alternately fought the Indians and cleared his
farm. In course of time he married a Miss Kimbrough, who
had emigrated with her father at an early day from Virginia.
Settling down on his newly-made farm, he lived there contentedly
until the day of his death, and reared up sons and daughters.
Among them was Samuel Kimbrough, his fourth son. Samuel,
at an early day, espoused the cause of universal freedom,
though his father at the time was an extensive slave-holder.
Young Sam often argued strongly with his father against the
institution, and its baneful effects upon society. He made
several unsuccessful attempts to get his father to emancipate
his slaves and emigrate to a free state. He said, "Some
day the institution will shake the government from center
to circumference," and he lived to see his prophecy
verified. He often declared his intention to never live under
the influence of human slavery; and, upon reaching his majority,
when he became master of his own will, he carried his inclination
into effect. Bidding father, mother, brothers, sisters a
long farewell, he started for the then territory of Indiana
without anything but a giant spirit to carry him through.
His father refused to give him anything unless he complied
with his wishes by settling in Kentucky. It was anticipated
that he would be back in a few months, or as soon as he wanted
a new supply of clothes. But he did not return until after
an absence of sixteen years, when his eldest son, the writer
of this biography, was old enough to accompany him on horseback.
His father said to him after he had been
there two or three days; "Well, Sam, have you given
up your foolish notions about slavery?" "I never
had any foolish notions on that subject," he replied.
His father resumed: "I have no money on hand but I have
a very likely boy for whom I can easily get five hundred
dollars. You are welcome to this sum, if you will accept
it." Of course the refusal was emphatic. At his father's
death, some years later, upon opening the will, it was found
that he had made a one-thousand dollar provision for his
son Samuel, to be paid out of real estate.
The history of S.K. Barlow's movements in
Indiana was not marked with any unusual event outside of
a frontiersman's life, such as felling the giant forest and
hewing a farm almost out of solid timber, and at the same
time depending upon his unerring rifle for the animal portion
of his food. This was a very easy task at that time, as the
whole country abounded in game of nearly every description,
and honey flowed from almost every tree; while breadstuff
was obtained from corn pounded in a mortar burnt out in the
end of a big stump. A heavy swing pestle was suspended in
the air by a spring pole, which was just stiff enough to
raise the pestle, while the weight of a man would bring it
down with great force on the dry corn in the mortar, and
thus pulverize it as finely as powder. This, when sifted
through a sieve made of finely cut, dressed buckskin strings,
made excellent bread material.
But this state of isolation was of short
duration, as the onward march of civilization soon began
to fill up the country with people. Among the newcomers in
1817 was a most amiable young lady by the name of Susannah
Lee. Our pioneer meeting her soon became convinced of her
many good qualities, and, finally wining her affections,
made her his companion for life. She lived to bring up a
family of five boys and two girls, and to accompany and guide
them with cheering heart and christian hand to the Pacific
shore; and there, in the year 1852, in the sixty-second year
of her age, she resigned her body to the earth, from whence
it came; and her spirit, in its most triumphant christian
glory, returned in all its purity to the God who gave it.
No one has ever died more loved and regretted by all who
ever knew her.
In the year 1836, the subject of our sketch
moved to the State of Illinois with all his family; for as
yet they were all in their minority. Here he resided on a
newly made farm as a humble tiller of the soil until the
year 1845, when he conceived the idea of "going west."
Samuel K. Barlow was a personal friend and
admirer of Henry Clay and his principles, and several times "took
the stump" in advocacy of his friend and party. But
when defeat came to Henry Clay, and the unknown James K.
Polk of the opposing political school was elected President
of the United States, S.K. Barlow declared his intention
of never living under his administration. In pursuance of
this declaration, he immediately offered his farm for sale,
which sale being accomplished he was ready to seek a haven,
where at least the isolation and obscurity of it would be
some palliation for the offence under which he and his party
were suffering. Accordingly, on the 30th day of March, 1845,
he with all his household and many followers left the great
State of Illinois, and commenced their journey to the Pacific
shore. At that time it was thought that the nucleus of an
independent government was springing up. But this belief
with him was soon dispelled; for, seeing its fallacies, he
soon became as strong an opposer of that idea as any man
in Oregon. Though a man of much determination when he believed
himself to be right, yet he was always glad to correct an
error in his reasoning when convinced of the superiority
of another's belief. He derived all the advantages education
offered in his own schooldays, and being a man of more than
ordinary ability improved and profited by his early but limited
lessons. A great characteristic of his life was strict honesty.
Above all things he hated a dishonest politician. He was
one with Henry Clay in the famous motto, "Rather be
defeated all my life in the right, than victorious in the
wrong." He always held that "The office should
hunt the man, but not the man the office." Besides these
principles he was a bold but consistent free-thinker. He
believed in the paradise of right. He spoke his mind freely,
but was open to conversion whenever honest opinion directed.
Some of these characteristics made him unpopular with a class
whom he utterly abhorred, - the dishonest, the groveling
politician, and the swerving, vacillating ma of policy. But
with the upright, honest and true man his words and character
were an oracle upon which they could depend.
It is not necessary to describe the journey
towards the Pacific, east of the Cascade Mountains, as that
would be following in the wake of those "who had gone
before." Besides it has been well described and is too
well known to reiterate here with any added interest. But,
upon arriving at The Dalles, the then supposed terminus of
the wagon-road, it was that the daring independence of the
pioneer asserted itself. After resting a few days and recruiting
his followers, teams and cattle, like a general refreshing
his troops for a new fight, notice was given that the company's
captain, S.K. Barlow, was going to cross the Cascade Mountains
with his family, wagons and plunder. An invitation was extended
to any and all who felt disposed to join his expedition;
but he wished none to follow him who had ever learned the
adaptability of the word "can't." The old mountaineers,
who had trapped all over the mountains, the missionaries
and Hudson's Bay men said it was a useless attempt, particularly
so at this season of the year, it being fall. The rainy season
would soon set in; and, with only jaded teams to undertake
it, everyone said it would be hazardous. But not all discouraged
by these revelations, the captain declared his belief in
the goodness and wisdom of the Allwise Being, and said, "He
never made a mountain without making a way for man to go
over it, if the latter exercised a proper amount of energy
and perseverance." So on or about the first of October
with a few brave followers, he began the hazardous undertaking.
William L. Rector, J.C. Caplinger, Andrew
Hood and a Mr. Gessner were among the few volunteers in this
adventure. Everything in readiness, orders were given to
move forward, which was done with seeming good-will. Everything
moved along harmoniously and without special incident for
the first forty miles. But when cañons and insurmountable
barriers began to confront them, discussion, discord and
dissension arose. Some wanted to turn back; others wished
to leave their wagons, then pack their animals with what
they could conveniently carry and go over the Mount Hood
trail. but the old pioneer told them if they would trust
to him, he would carry them through the valley over a new
wagon-road across the mountains, before the new year began.
He thought to enliven their disheartened minds by reminding
them of the wonderful achievement it would be, and of the
great benefit future immigration would derive from it.
Having come to this standstill, he offered,
with anyone who would volunteer to accompany him, to go ahead
and blaze a route to the valley. In case they found it impracticable,
they would return in time to reach The Dalles for winter
quarters, or to go down the Columbia river to their destinations.
To this they all assented; so the next morning with Mr. William
Rector, the volunteer, they set out to select and blaze a
route to the promised land. In the meantime, those who were
left were to follow the marked pathway and cut out the road
for their wagons, so that in case the leaders found a pass
they would be that much nearer on their journey, or should
it prove a failure, they would have a road on which to make
the backward trip. But those left behind soon became disheartened;
every day seemed like a week. When two weeks had elapsed,
and brought no return of the road hunters, they began to
despair of ever seeing them again. Some conjectured that
they had been devoured by wild beasts, others that they had
starved to death. But those who knew the pluck of the old
man best did not fear either. They knew that he had been
too successful a hunter in the backwoods of Indiana to allow
himself and comrades to be devoured by wild animals or to
starve to death where they were plentiful.
Nothing appeared to relieve the monotony
of their fears until the sixteenth day after their departure,
when the long-looked-for pilgrims saluted them by the keen
crack of a rifle. This was returned with cheer after cheer
from the whole crowd, with such vehemence that it seemed
to shake the very tops of the tall pines and majestic firs
that surrounded them. But alas! our leaders were completely
worn out and exhausted. Having failed in several routes,
they were compelled to retrace and then hunt new ones. Their
clothes and boots were almost worn off. Being so determined
to find the goal of their expedition, and having in mind
the safety and welfare of those they had left behind, they
did not go out of their way to even supply themselves with
the necessary food, only killing that which chanced to come
in their daily march. Consequently, they had suffered some
from hunger, even living several days upon very scanty allowances.
The result of their trip and the outlook
before the party was anything but flattering. Though they
had been through the mountains, retraced and revised the
route, and had declared it practicable, yet they were completely
exhausted and in great need of rest. It had already begun
to rain; and the days were almost at their shortest. Cattle
were starving and dying from eating mountain laurel. Many
of the immigrants who had arrived at The Dalles this year,
1845, were nearly destitute of provisions or means to procure
them. This class the Hudson's Bay Company sent down to Oregon
City in their bateaux free of charge. But Mr. Barlow's company
were well equipped with provisions and money both for themselves
and the few volunteers who joined them, and started out over
the mountains well prepared for a journey of a few weeks.
But this prospective trip had taken much longer time than
was anticipated; and numerous delays and obstacles had lengthened
the weeks into months. In consequence, their supply of provisions
was almost exhausted. Women were disheartened; and children
were crying from want of proper nourishment and care. It
was getting very cold; and black clouds were lowering only
a few feet above their heads, threatening every moment to
cover them up with snow. Altogether it was a scene that would
make the heart of the "bravest of the brave" grow
weak in contemplating the prospects of the journey under
such circumstances.
At this time William L. Rector and family
retraced their steps and returned to The Dalles. But the
warhorse said "No!" that he and his family were "going
through or leave their bones in the mountains." But
he was willing, if the remainder of the company would remain
with him, to go on to some suitable place and make a cache
of the goods, build a house and leave two or three trusty
young men with the wagons and plunder until spring, then
pack out the women and children on the few animals they had
left. As soon as work could be done in the spring, he said,
he would return with a gang of men, cut a road through the
mountains and carry everything out. Wagons were then worth
from one hundred and fifty to two hundred dollars in the
valley, and in fact were indispensable articles at any price.
Our company owned twenty, which were well worth caring for.
This proposition was readily agreed upon. William Berry,
John M. Bacon and William Barlow volunteered to remain with
the wagons. Very soon indications of the weather pointed
out a decided change for the better; so all went to work
with the cheerful hope of yet beholding the promised land
of the Willamette valley.
A few days travel brought them within five
miles of the summit of the Cascade Mountains. Here they found
a suitable place to leave their heavy goods and wagons. A
house was soon constructed to hold the goods that would be
likely to spoil from dampness or from a heavy weight of snow.
Everything being nicely put away, preparations for moving
began. Packing had to be studied with an eye to economy of
space. Each woman attended to her own domestic affairs, cramming
her wardrobe and indispensables into as small parcels as
possible. The number of horses was very limited; and it was
not known, as yet, how the oxen would stand the pack saddle.
The stock cattle had been sent to the valley long ere this.
The next thing for consideration was, how could the limited
supply of provisions be divided with the men who were going
to stay in the mountains all winter. The company was now
reduced to a very small allowance, - only enough to keep
them alive till they reached the "land of milk and honey." This
dilemma was soon satisfactorily arranged by one of the volunteers,
William Berry, consenting to stay alone, and that the other
two should go through with the families, thus adding two
more willing hands to alleviate their hardships. They would
return soon to the lone mountaineer and bring back provisions
to last during his hermitage. All being ready, the start
was made; but they moved very slowly, having to cut a trail
most of the way and to keep a vigilant lookout for the safety
of the women and children packed on the horses. At this rate
it was very hard work to make more than three miles a day.
A snowstorm coming up covered the ground with a foot of snow,
thus leaving the animals nothing to eat but the poisonous
mountain laurel. This was discouraging. They counted and
turned the cattle and horses out at night, but could make
no calculations upon the number they would get up in the
morning. Before reaching what is now known as Laurel Hill,
some of the women and children, and all of our men, were
compelled to walk. They were out of provisions of any kind
save the steak they had cut from the hams of the horses that
had died from the effects of eating laurel. They soon found
that its poisonous qualities were not transmissible, and
for awhile partook of it voraciously. The greatest discontent
about it was that it would give out before they reached the
settlements.
A little incident that occurred one evening
will serve to illustrate the courage of some of the ladies
of the party. One of the ladies was weeping in contemplation
of the final result, in case all the horses and cattle should
die, and starvation be their fate. "Cheer up," said
Mrs. Gaines, Mr. Barlow's oldest child, "There is no
danger of perishing as long as we have such a fine fat dog
as good old Bruno." "O, dear!" cried the lady, "would
you eat a dog? "Yes, if he were the last dog in the
world," said Mrs. Gaines. The courage of all the ladies
ascended a few degrees when they realized that there was
in camp such a wonderful relief fund.
It was evident that something must be done
to obtain relief before long; so it was agreed that John
M. Bacon and William Barlow, the son of the leader of the
party, should start immediately for the valley on foot, and
return as soon as possible with fresh horses and provisions
for the families. In the meantime the company was to make
an effort to reach the foot of Laurel Hill, which was about
three miles away. The two volunteers were supplied with a
camp kettle, an axe, a very little ground coffee, and their
allowance of the laurel-fed horse. They had no idea of the
many trials they were to encounter. But, had they anticipated
them, their overflowing ambition and buoyant hearts would
have nerved them to baffle anything for the success of the
enterprise. In this self-satisfactory mood, they continued
till they reached the last crossing of the Big Sandy river,
which was up to its winter stage. Its waters were as cold
as ice, and ran over sleek boulders with the rapidity of
lightning. Something must be done; the stream had to be crossed.
it was getting late in the evening; and eight or ten miles
had to be made before they could reach the first house, should
they be fortunate enough to get across the river. Being very
tired and weak they thought they would not attempt to ford
it that evening; so they hunted for some dry conveyance,
a fallen log or drift lodged in a gorge; but none was to
be found. Just above the point where the bridge now stands
was an island of solid rock, on one side of which was a deep,
narrow canon, through which all the water passed. On the
bank, just opposite, there was a tall tree, which they thought,
if felled, would reach the island. After working with the
utmost energy for some time, with the only axe they had it
finally fell. To their dismay, it broke in twain and went
down the torrent, pitching and jumping like a mountain buck.
After this they were compelled to suspend further operations
until morning. It seemed almost suicidal to plunge into this
boisterous stream; but recollections of the suffering condition
of the helpless women and children, and perils of life the
old pioneer had endured for them, called forth their keenest
sense of duty, and doubly renewed their feeble energies.
William told his companion that he proposed to cross that
stream at the risk of his life, but that he did now wish
him to attempt it nor to sacrifice his life for his people.
William who had a father's, mother's and two sisters' lives
at stake, felt it his duty to rescue them or perish in the
attempt; and so they struck camp. Their bodies and spirits
soon enlivened by a cheerful fire, they were ready for their
coffee and a piece of old Gray's laurel-stricken ham. At
this point, Bacon, who had been entrusted with this burdenless
part of the luggage, said that he had lost the meat out of
his pocket in the river. They had crossed the Big Sandy at
least twenty times. William accused him of eating it, knowing
from his own appetite what a temptation it was. But he said
he had really lost it, but, fearing that the knowledge of
it would discourage Barlow, had refrained from telling him
before. So, after partaking heartily of coffee, they lay
down under the wide-spreading boughs of their improvised
mountain house, and were soon fast asleep.
Morning came. With firm nerve and determined
will, which were to carry him to the opposite sore of the
river, or to that unknown shore from whence no traveler returns,
William slowly advanced to the turbulent, icy waters. Taking
a hearty leave of his friend, Bacon, not a word was afterward
spoken till he reached the middle of the stream. Here, standing
breast-deep in the water, his limbs numb with the water,
his limbs numb with the cramp, his heart failed him. He sang
out to Bacon a farewell message to his mother. All was desperation!
A few more steps and then - the waters grew more shallow,
new hope sprang up! A minute more and he was safe on the
land. A hurrah of joy reached his ears from the opposite
shore which was returned by, "All is well."
Quick time was made over the remaining ten
miles to Phillip Foster's. Here James and John L. Barlow
were recruiting themselves and cattle, having arrived here
some time before by the Mount Hood trail. William was detained
here two days, waiting for horses to be brought from Oregon
City. In the meantime, Bacon was faring sumptuously on coffee,
while William, being foundered after the first meal, was
denied even that luxury. The detention was very opportune
to him, as he should not have been able to start before.
with good stout horses well packed with provisions, the deep
crossing, the bane of his pedestrian trip. passed in safety,
he joined his trusty friend Bacon; and they were very soon
well on their journey towards the anxious waiters in the
mountains. To their great surprise they found the company
encamped only a few miles from the last crossing of the Big
Sandy. The health of the leader of the party, who was taken
sick on the summit of the Cascades, and which impeded the
daily march, was much improved. They could now see their
way clearly. The remainder of the journey was passed in the
best of spirits.
On December 25,1845, they arrived in Oregon
City, having accomplished the journey from Illinois to Oregon
in a little over nine months. Their wagons still remained
in the mountains under the supervision of William Berry,
who was waiting with that trusty confidence that brave men
and stout hearts confide in. No time must be lost to relieve
him. As per agreement, and by order of S.K. Barlow, the writer
of this article was sent back during the first week of January
with the necessary supplies. Bacon, one of the partners in
thus undertaking, disposed of his interest; and the service
of J.E. Eaton was secured to assist on the journey. In four
days they reached is mountain camp, and found him "enjoying
himself hugely," as he expressed it, living on rabbits
and pine squirrels. However, he was not long in showing his
appreciation of flour, bacon, sugar and coffee.
Having arranged with Berry to continue on
alone in the care of the property, Eaton and Barlow commenced
their homeward journey. The weather was very cold, and the
snow deep. The monotony of the homeward trip was varied only
by now and then digging a horse out of the snow, or shoveling
the snow from the trees to find the road-marks. They arrived
again in Oregon City in just eight days from the time they
had left there.
Further action was now suspended on the
mountain road till spring. Then our pioneer, true to his
promise, buckled on his armor, rallied forces at his own
expense, and started forth to hew out the first road over
the Cascade Mountains. After many weeks of hard labor, interspersed
with an unusual number of troubles, the road was finally
completed and established under what is now known as the
Barlow road.
The original Barlow Road was eighty miles
long. It began at the extreme western side of what is known
as Tygh valley, and followed the Indian trail to within ten
miles of the north side of Mount Hood. At this point, one
year before, William L. Rector and Mr. Barlow had taken observations
and discovered a natural gap in the range of mountains, and
here determined to blaze the path and afterwards construct
a road through to the valley. Here all traces of human footsteps
or wild animal trails disappeared; and from here on to Phillip
Foster's, the first settlement, the road was made through
thick forest, fallen logs crossed and recrossed upon each
other, rocks, creeks, canons or barriers of some kind. It
required a large force of men and an expenditure of twenty-five
hundred dollars to construct it. It was the old gentleman's
object to build a good road which would make a continuous
route by land clear across the plains, and also lessen the
expense from The Dalles to Oregon City, which was very considerable
to immigrants. Transportation by water from The Dalles down
to the valley was very high; and, even if the rates of travel
had been lower, many of the immigrants had no money at all
to pay for such service. Their sole capital sometimes consisted
of teams, wagons, cattle, a few implements, willing hands,
hopeful hearts, and a brave determination to gain an honest
living with them.
The road was made a toll-road by a charter
form the Provisional (territorial) government, and the rates
of toll fixed at five dollars for a wagon and team, and fifty
cents for a single animal. The old gentleman himself kept
the toll-gate two months of each year, during the immigrant
seasons of 1846 and 1847; but, for at least four months in
the year, men were constantly constructing and repairing
new and better roads. Many, many immigrants were unable to
pay the toll; and in every case they were allowed to pass
free and use all the privileges of the road. The brave spirit
of many of the pioneers of those days would not permit them
to accept the privilege as a gift; and this class insisted
on leaving their names and a promise to pay in the future.
It was always the intention of the builder of the road to
turn it over to the territory without charge or any restriction
as soon as he had collected enough to reimburse himself.
Making an estimate of cash collected and a total of all the
notes on hand, he found at the end of two years that the
time had come for him to make this donation, which he accordingly
did.
After several years, by reference to the
cash accounts of the Barlow Road Company, it was found that
many of those who had desired to pay had been unable to do
so; and their notes, running out by limitation, quite a margin
was left to be charged to the individual loss account of
S.K. Barlow. It was never intended as a money-making scheme;
neither did he intend it as a losing one; and, had he anticipated
the non-payment of so many notes, he would have patiently
run the road himself till he had all the cash in hand for
his outlay. But few of those who had made their way over
the mountain path with Mr. Barlow followed him in this laborious
undertaking of road-making. Though all had an interest in
the wagons and plunder, they preferred to wait till the road
was finished before venturing again into the wilderness.
One return the old gentleman asked of the wagon owners was
that his oldest son might drive the first team over the first
road across the Cascades.
After the acceptance of the road by the
government, it was leased to other parties and for several
years was a paying institution. Later, on account of smaller
immigration and therefore limited finances of the toll-man,
it was not kept in as good repair as formerly. But for over
twenty years it was the principal passport over which thousands
came to cast their fortunes in the far Northwest, and become
proud Oregonians. The road is now, 1889, owned by a corporation,
Mr. F.O. McCown, of Oregon City, being one of the important
members. It is yet run as a toll-road, and is now kept in
an excellent state of repair. It is not only used by people
going to and from Eastern Oregon, but by many tourists and
pleasure-seekers. It leads into a delightful mountain country;
and, as it is on a natural pass, it is on the line of the
proposed railroad to the timber line of Mount Hood. It is
still known as the Barlow Road, which for nearly forty-five
years has been a noteworthy testimonial of the forethought
of its founder and builder, S.K. Barlow. It has been said
that the construction of this road contributed more towards
the prosperity of the Willamette valley and the future State
of Oregon than any other achievement prior to the building
of the railways in 1870.
Nothing outside of the daily routine of
life occurred in the history of our pioneer till 1847, the
breaking out of the Cayuse Indian war. He was one of the
first to shoulder his gun and rush to the defense of women
and children on the frontier. As an independent high private,
he would be under the control of none, and asked no pay for
his services. He said he would go out and keep back the Indians
until the young men were equipped and in the field; that
he would resign and go home. This he did as soon as the volunteers
arrived in the field. It was generally conceived that he
and a few of his comrades who went at the first alarm kept
back the inroads of the Indians upon The Dalles, and prevented
their coming into the valley. After this he lived a very
retired life. His love of mountain scenery and exploits never
left him. Every year that he was able to go, up to the time
of his death, he took a mountain pleasure trip, which he
enjoyed as keenly as he did similar trips in his pioneer
days.
A marked characteristic of the old gentleman
was his most inveterate enmity to intoxicating drinks. It
is believed that he would have sacrificed his life for the
annihilation of alcohol. He had no sympathy for a man who
drank. "The first drunk," he said, "I would
take a man our of the mire and care for him until he became
sober; the second, I would let him lie there; for the sooner
he was gone the better." The last few years of this
pioneer's life were spent in and around Oregon City, where
he died July 14, 1867, at the age of seventy-two years and
six months. He died as he had lived, - calmly and composedly.
He never made any profession of religion;
yet he believed firmly in a great God; that a pure spirit
would be everlastingly happy; and in the progression of happiness
both here and hereafter. He also believed in the punishment
of the wicked, but that it would not be eternal, but according
to merits, - progressive until the standard of right was
reached. He was buried at Barlow's Prairie, named in commemoration
of its founder. His final resting place is marked by a monument
on which is inscribed an expressive epitaph composed by himself,
and embodying in concise terms the precepts of his life on
earth and his belief in the future.