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thrown away.

Yet these were the means by which the African | cargo, and Commander W. Allen was directed to people were to be awakened to a proper sense of send his sick on board. That officer, however, their own degradation. For the conclusion of feeling perfectly convinced from his former expesuch treaties with such powers, the useful lives of rience of the river, and the present condition of the crews, that in a very short time H. M. S. Wilberscholars, students, mariners, and officers-more force would be reduced to the necessity of following precious than a wilderness of Africans were the Soudan, requested permission to send such only of the sick as might desire to go; especially as he considered-in which his surgeon, Dr. Pritchett, concurred-that the removal of the men in the state in which some of them were, would be attended with great risk. Only six expressed a wish to leave, the others, sixteen in number, preferred to remain by their ship. One man, on being asked whether he would like to go, said he thought we had got into a very bad place, and the sooner we were out of it the better, but he would stay by his ship.

There was another monarch at another place on the Niger, a certain Attàh of Iddah, "whose feet, inclosed in very large red leather boots, surrounded with little bells, dangled carelessly over the side of the throne," who spoke through a state functionary, called the king's mouth, and who had this very orthodox notion of the Divine right: "God made me after his image; I am all the same as God; and he appointed me a king." With this În order to have as much air as possible for the good old sovereign a similar scene was enacted; and he, too, promised everything that was asked, Commander W. Allen had a large screened berth sufferers, and to keep them from the other men, and was particularly importunate to see the pres-fitted on the upper deck, in the middle of the vesents. He, also, was very much amused by the sel, well protected from the sun, and the dews at missionary's spectacles, it was supposed; and as night, by thick awnings, from which was suspended royalty in those parts must not smile in public, the a large punkah.

mates.

fan-bearers found it necessary to hide his face very Sunday, 19th.-The Soudan came alongside the often. The Attàh dines alone-like the Pope-Wilberforce to receive our invalids, who took a and is equally infallible. Some land for the Model melancholy farewell of their officers and messFarm was purchased of him, and the settlement established. The reading of the deed was very patiently attended to," unless," say the writers of these volumes, with the frankness which distinguishes them" unless we mistook apathy for such a laudable bearing."

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Prayers were read to the crews of both vessels. It was an affecting scene. The whole of one side of the little vessel was covered with invalids, and the cabins were full of officers; there was, indeed. no room for more.

The separation from so many of our companions under such circumstances could not be otherwise

In a short time the steam was got up, and our little consort-watched by many commiserating eyes-rapidly glided out of view.

Only two or three days have elapsed since this change was effected, and now the Wilberforce has thirty-two men sick of the fever, leaving only thirteen, officers and seamen, capable of duty. She, too, returns to the sea, on Captain Allen's renewed protest and another council; and the Albert goes on up the melancholy river alone.

So much is done towards the great awakening than painful to all the only cheering feature was of the African people. But by this time the ex-in the hope that the attenuated beings who now depedition has been in the river five weeks; fever parted would soon be within the influence of a has appeared on board of all the ships in the river; more favorable climate, and that we might meet for the last three days, especially, it has progressed under happier auspices. with terrible rapidity. On board the Soudan only six persons can move about. On board the Albert the assistant-surgeon lies at the point of death. On board the Wilberforce several are nearly at the same pass. Another day, and sixty, in all, are sick, and thirteen dead. Nothing but muttering delirium or suppressed groans are heard on every side on board the vessels." Energy of character and strength of hope are lost, even among those not yet attacked. One officer, remarkable for fortitude and resignation, bursts into tears on being addressed, and being asked the reason, replies that it is involuntary weakness produced by the climate; though it afterwards appears that, “in addition to this cause, he has been disheartened, during a little repose snatched from his duties, by a feverish dream of home and family." An anxious consultation is held. Captain Trotter decides to send the sick back to the sea, in the Soudan, but Captain Allen knows the river will begin to fall straightway, and that the most unhealthy season will set in, and places his opinion on record that the ships had better all return, and make no further effort, at that time, to ascend the river.

DEPARTURE OF THE SICK.

THE WILBERFORCE ON HER RETURN.

We proceeded through these narrow and winding reaches with feelings very different to those we Then the experienced in ascending the river. elasticity of health and hope gave to the scenery a coloring of exceeding loveliness. The very silence and solitude had a soothing influence which invited to meditation and pleasing anticipations for the future. Now it was the stillness of death-broken only by the strokes and echoes of our paddle-wheels and the melancholy song of the leadsmen, which seemed the knell and dirge of our dying comrades. The palm trees, first so graceful in their drooping leaves, were now gigantic hearse-like plumes.

So she drops down to Fernando Po, where the Soudan is lying, on whose small and crowded The Soudan was accordingly got ready with the decks death has been, and is still, busy. Comutmost possible dispatch, to receive her melancholy | manding officer, surgeons, seamen, engineers,

marines, all sick, many dead. Captain Allen, -now mustering about forty natives, in addition with the sick on board the Wilberforce, sails for to the people brought from Sierra Leone-was Ascension, as a last hope of restoring the sick; left in the charge of one Ralph Moore, an Amerand the Soudan is sent back to assist the Albert. ican negro emigrant. She meets her coming out at the Gate of the Cemetery; thus:

THE ALBERT ON HER RETURN.

The rest of the sad story is soon told. The seabreeze blew too late on many wasted forms, to shed its freshness on them for their restoration, and Death, Death, Death, was aboard the Albert It was a lovely morning, and the scenery about day and night. Captain Trotter, as the only means the river looked very beautiful, affording a sad con- of saving his life, was with difficulty prevailed on trast to the dingy and deserted look of the " Albert." to return to England and after a long delay at Many of course were the painful surmises as to Ascension and in the Bay of Amboises, (in the the fate of those on board. On approaching, how-absence of instructions from the Colonial Office,) ever, the melancholy truth was soon told. The and when the expedition, under Captain Allen, fever had been doing its direst work; several were was on the eve of another hopeless attempt to asdead, many dying, and of all the officers, but two, cend the Niger, it was ordered home. It being Drs. McWilliam and Stanger, were able to move necessary to revisit the Model Farm, in obedience about. The former presented himself and waved his hand, and one emaciated figure was seen to be to orders, Lieutenant Webb, Captain Allen's first raised up for a second time. This was Captain officer immediately volunteered for that service; Trotter, who, in his anxiety to look at the "Sou- and with the requisite number of officers, and a dan" again, had been lifted out of his cot.

black crew, took command of the Wilberforce, and once again went boldly up the fatal Niger. Disunion and dismay were rife at the Model Farm, on their arrival there; Mr. Carr, who had returned

A spectacle more full of painful contemplation could scarcely have been witnessed. Slowly and portentously, like a plague-ship filled with its dead and dying, onward she moved in charge of her generous pilot, Mr. Beecroft. Who would have from Fernando Po when restored to health, had thought that little more than two months previously been murdered-by direction of "King Boy," it she had entered that same river with an enterprising crew, full of life, and buoyant with bright hopes of accomplishing the objects on which all had so ardently entered?

would appear, and not without strong suspicion of coöperation on the part of our friend Obi-and the settlement was abandoned. Obi (though he is somewhat unaccountably complimented by Dr. McWilliam) came out in his true colors on the Wilberforce's return, and, not being by any means awakened to a proper sense of his own degradation, appears to have evinced an amiable intention of destroying the crew and seizing the ship. Being baffled in this design, however, by the coolness and promptitude of Lieutenant Webb and his officers, the white men happily left him behind in his own country, where he is no doubt ready at this moment, if still alive, to enter into any treaty that may be proposed to him, with presents to follow; and to be " highly amused" again on the subject of the slave trade, and to beat his tom-toms all night long for joy.

The narrative of the Albert's solitary voyage, which occupied about a month, is given from the journal of Dr. McWilliam, and furnishes, to our thinking, one of the most remarkable instances of quiet courage and unflinching constancy of purpose that is to be found in any book of travel ever written. The sickness spreading, Captain Trotter falling very ill, officers, engineers, and men, lying alike disabled, and the Albert's head turned, in the necessity of despair, once more towards the sea, the two doctors on board, Dr. McWilliam and Dr. Stanger-nar -names that should ever be memorable and honored in the history of truly heroic enterprise-took upon themselves, in addition to the duty of attending the sick, the task of navigating The fever, which wrought such terrible desolathe ship down the river. The former took charge tion on this and the preceding expedition, becomes of her, the latter worked the engines, and, both a subject of painful interest to the readers of these persevering by day and night-through all the volumes. The length to which our notice has horrors of such a voyage, with their friends raving already extended, prevents our extracting, as we and dying around them, and some, in the madness had purposed, the account of it which is given in of the fever leaping overboard-brought her in the present narrative. Of the predisposing causes, safety to the sea. We would fain hope this feat little can be positively stated; for the most delicate will live, in Dr. McWilliam's few, plain, and mod-chemical tests failed to detect, in the air or water, est words; and, better yet, in the grateful remem- the presence of those deleterious gases which were brance handed down by the survivors of this fatal expedition when the desperate and cruel courage of whole generations of the world shall have fallen into oblivion.

very confidently supposed to exist in both. It is preceded either by a state of great prostration, or great excitement, and unnatural indifference; it developes itself on board ship about the fifteenth day Calling at the Model Farm as they came down after the ascent of the river is commenced; a the Niger, they found the superintendent, Mr. close and sultry atmosphere without any breeze Carr, and the schoolmaster and gardener-both Eu-stirring, is the atmosphere most unfavorable to it; ropeans-lying prostrate with fever. These were it appears to yield to calomel in the first instance, taken on board the Albert and brought away for and strong doses of quinine afterwards, more than the restoration of their health; and the settlement to any other remedies; and it is remarkable that

in cases of "total abstinence" patients, it seems from the first to be hopelessly and surely fatal.

shorn of its fair proportions. As a most distinguished officer, and a highly accomplished gentleman, than whom there is no one living so well entitled to be heard on all that relates to Africa, it merits, and assuredly will receive, great attention. We are not, on the ground we have just now indicated, so sanguine as he; but there is sound wisdom in his idea of approaching the black man through the black man, and in his conviction that he can only be successfully approached by a studied reference to the current of his own opinions and customs instead of ours. So true is this, that it

The history of this expedition is the history of the past, in reference to the heated visions of philanthropists for the railroad Christianization of Af rica and the abolition of the slave trade. May no popular cry, from Exeter Hall or elsewhere, ever make it, as to one single ship, the history of the future! Such means are useless, futile, and we will venture to add-in despite of hats broadbrimmed or shovel-shaped, and coats of drab or black, with collars or without-wicked. No amount of philanthropy has a right to waste such is doubtful whether any European save Brucevaluable life as was squandered here, in the teeth who had a perfectly marvellous genius for accomof all experience and feasible pretence of hope. modating himself, not only to the African characBetween the civilized European and the barbarous ter, but to every variety of character with which African there is a great gulf set. The air that he came in contact-has ever truly won to himbrings life to the latter brings death to the former. self a mingled sentiment of confidence, respect, In the mighty revolutions of the wheel of time, and fear in that country. So little has our governsome change in this regard may come about; but ment profited by his example, that one of the forein this age of the world, all the white armies and most objects of this very expedition is to repeat the white missionaries of the world would fall, as self-same mistake with which Clapperton so astonwithered reeds, before the rolling of one African ished the King Boy and King Obi of his time, by river. To change the customs even of civilized running head-foremost at the abolition of the slave and educated men, and impress them with new trade; which, of all possible objects, is the most ideas, is—we have good need to know it-a most inconceivable, unpalatable, and astounding to these difficult and slow proceeding; but to do this by barbarians! ignorant and savage races, is a work which, like Captain Allen need be under no apprehension the progressive changes of the globe itself, requires that the failure of the expedition will involve his a stretch of years that dazzles in the looking at. readers in any confusion as to the sufferings and It is not, we conceive, within the likely providence deserts of those who sacrificed themselves to of God, that Christianity shall start to the banks achieve its unattainable objects. No generous of the Niger, until it shall have overflowed all in- mind can peruse this narrative without a glow of tervening space. The stone that is dropped into admiration and sympathy for himself and all conthe ocean of ignorance at Exeter Hall, must make cerned. The quiet spot of Lander's tomb, lying its widening circles, one beyond another, until they beyond the paths of guava and dark-leaved trees, reach the negro's country in their natural expan- where old companions dear to his heart lie buried sion. There is a broad, dark sea between the side by side beneath the sombre and almost impenStrand in London, and the Niger, where those etrable brushwood, is not to be ungratefully rememrings are not yet shining; and through all that bered, or lightly forgotten. Though the African space they must appear, before the last one breaks is not yet awakened to a proper sense of his degraupon the shore of Africa. Gently and impercep-dation, the resting-place of those brave men is tibly the widening circle of enlightenment must sacred, and their history a solemn truth. stretch and stretch, from man to man, from people on to people, until there is a girdle round the earth; but no convulsive effort, or far-off aim, can make the last great outer circle first, and then come home at leisure to trace out the inner one. Believe it, African Civilization, Church of England Missionary, and all other Missionary Societies! The work at home must be completed thoroughly, or there is no hope abroad. To your tents, O Israel! but see they are your own tents! them in order; leave nothing to be done there; and outpost will convey your lesson on to outpost, until the naked armies of King Obi and King Boy are reached, and taught. Let a knowledge of the duty that man owes to man, and to his God, spread thus, by natural degrees and growth of example, to the outer shores of Africa, and it will float in safety up the rivers, never fear!

Dog-Breaking. The most Expeditious, Certain, and Easy Method, whether great excellence or only mediocrity is required. By LieutenantColonel W. N. HUTCHINSON, Twentieth Regi

ment.

THE object of Dog-Breaking is to enable one who has the desire, to break, or rather to educate, his own dog; for Colonel Hutchinson's plans are Set more like education than common breaking. Mildness, patience, and one thing at a time, are the means by which our author proceeds, together with the reiteration of the lesson until it is perfectly impressed upon the animal's mind. Something of military discipline is visible in the colonel's plan; but his great principle is to render the dog an intelThe greater part of the book is of course didactic, ligent creature, who shall hunt with understanding. in which plain directions are the first point; but sporting sketches and original anecdotes of remarkable dogs are mingled with the breaking institutes.

We will not do injustice to Captain Allen's scheme of future operations, by reproducing it, CCXXX. LIVING AGE.

VOL. XIX.

5

THE MASSACRE IN OREGON.

ALTHOUGH We have published several accounts of the melancholy catastrophe which befell one of the mission families in Oregon, last spring, the following minute narrative, from one of the survivors, will be read we think, with fresh, though painful interest.Com. Adv.

From the Oquawka (Ill.) Spectator.

OREGON, April, 7, 1848. DEAR BROTHER AND SISTER.-After a long silence, I take my pen in hand to write you a few lines, to inform you that some of us still remain on this side of the grave, and give you some information of the country, and our troubles since we left the States. I have waited a long time, until I could have something worth writing about.

When we parted with you we took our journey for Oregon, and had a very pleasant trip, but travelled very slowly. When we reached the Umatilla river we turned and went to Dr. Whitman's, where we spent the winter. We had a very pleasant winter. On the first of March, 1846, we started for the Wallamette Valley, and in thirteen days we arrived at the falls, where we had to stop and construct a boat. In about two weeks we had completed our boat, and then started down the Columbia, and arrived at Oregon city on the 24th of April. Here we spent the summer, and in the fall moved up the Wallamette to the Methodist Institute, and spent the fall and winter. In the spring of 1847 we went to our claim on the Califosea, and thought we were done moving.

Dr. Whitman came down and wanted me to undertake to build two mills for the mission; and, not being satisfied when doing well, I consented to go and spend two years in working for the mission. On the last of September we started for Oregon city. About the first of October we took water at the city, with six Wallawalla Indians, for the falls, which we reached on the 5th. Next day we saw the dust rise from a caravan coming from the States. I started to meet them, and the first persons I met were John and Nancy Findley, driving the loose cattle. After passing a few words with them I went on and met the wagons. The first was driven by William McCaw. In this wagon I found one whom I never expected to see again in this world. Here was aunt Jane Findley, sitting in the wagon, almost worn out with travelling. She was surrounded with a host of little children—three of Levi Russell's, four of Dunlap's, and one of McCaw's all dependent upon their grandmother to be taken care of a burden for the stoutest person. Then rode up James L. Findley and his wife, in good health; then came Alexander Findley, John Dunlap, and Milton. Dunlap had been sick for several days. This was a very solemn meeting of friends. After bracing myself up as well as I could, I led this little caravan on to my family. The caravan soon passed on to camp, but John and Nancy Findley remained and took tea with us, and in the evening we went with them to the camp.

A day or two afterward we met another caravan, in which were David Findley and his family; they had buried their youngest child three days before. Putnam had taken the road to the Cascades. Thus our friends were scattered along the road, trying to find the Wallamette Valley. We now hired another crew of Indians to take us to Fort Wallawalla, up the Columbia river. After bidding farewell to our friends, we put our goods aboard of a small

boat, dug out of white cedar, and started with four Indians. With hard labor we got about half way through the Big Falls, and camped among the rocks by the water's edge. In the morning we got Indians to carry some of our goods about to the upper end of the falls, and took our four little children and made our way over rocks and through sand; meanwhile the Indians pulled our boat up through the falls. We then went aboard and proceeded on our way to Dechute's Falls, and camped. Next morning made our portage and went on; so made our way up the river, passing through many dangers, not only by the river, but by being almost without food except as we bought from the Indians along the river. We ran out of provisions, and had to buy dried salmon. Our children suffered very much with the cold. In ten days after leaving the falls we arrived at Fort Wallawalla.

On Sabbath morning the team came for us, with provisions, and on Monday noon we reached the mission, where the Doctor and Mrs. Whitman, and Mr. Rogers, met us with great friendship. We found Mr. Rogers very unwell, but on the mend. Several families had stopped here for the winter. The Cayuse Indians were dying very fast with the measles and dysentery. In about two weeks the doctor's family took them, and, as we lived in an adjoining room, Margaret was taken down on the 8th of November, and, being in a delicate situation, the disease went very hard with her, and resulted in the death of the child, which was born on the 14th and was buried next day. When it was taken to the grave Salvijane was taken down, as we supposed with the measles, and never rose again; in five or six days she became speechless, and died on the ninth day after she was taken. Our other children-John Law, A. Rogers and Nancy Annawere all taken sick, but Nancy was able to be about all the time. I was also sick for several days.

In the last company there was a half-breed came to the doctor's, and hired to work through the winter.-One day he was to work for an Indian named Tamsicky, harrowing in wheat, and told him that the doctor and Mrs. Whitman were scattering poison into the air, and would kill them all off; that he was not working for him but for the doctor; that he (the doctor) knew they would all die, and he would get their wheat and all they had. He then proposed that, if they would agree to it, he would help them to kill the doctor and his wife, and all the Americans in their country. As they had a disposition to murder, and wanted satisfaction for the loss of women and children, it was no difficult matter to incite them against the Americans.

On the 29th day of November the Indians convened for the purpose, apparently, of burying their dead, and continued coming in nearly all day. About one or two o'clock Margaret got up and went into the parlor to see the sick children-the first she had walked for three weeks. The doctor and his wife were in the room, and an Indian came to the door and spoke to the doctor, who went out into the kitchen. Mrs. W. now bolted the door, and the firing soon commenced. Kimble, Camfield and Huffman were dressing a beef in the yard, Sanders was in the school-room, and the other men were at their work. I was in my room on the bed. The Indians commenced on all at nearly the same moment. They killed the doctor and wounded the three men at the beef, and killed a young man in the room with the doctor, and Mr. Gillyean the tailor. Margaret came back into our own room; I asked her what was the matter; she answered that the Indians

had risen to kill us. A constant firing was now kept up. Saunders was killed in attempting to get to his family; Kimble got into the house with his arm broke, and got up stairs with the children.

Mrs. Whitman, being informed that her husband was not yet dead, with the assistance of another woman, dragged him into the parlor. His head was badly mangled and his throat cut. She was shot in the breast, and Mr. Rogers got her up stairs, and he, by presenting a gun at the head of the stairs, kept the Indians down; but about sunset they promised that if Mr. R. and the rest would come down and go to the house where the emigrants were, they would not kill any more. Mr. R., with the assistance of an Indian, got Mrs. Whitman down, but no sooner had they got outside of the house than the Indians fired several balls into Mrs. Whitman, and kicked her bleeding body into the mud. They shot Mr. Rogers three times and left him to die. A few minutes before this last occurrence, I had lifted up the floor and we got under, with our three children, and put the boards back in their place. We lay there listening to the firing the screams of women and children-the groans of the dying-not knowing how soon our turn would come. We were, however, not discovered.

When it had become dark, and all was quiet, we concluded to leave everything, take our children, and start for the fort, which was twenty-five miles distant, knowing that if we remained until morning death would be our portion. Taking John Law on my back, and A. Rogers in my arms, we started. The first step we made outside was in the blood of an orphan boy. Some of the murdered had their heads split open; some were lying in the mud disembowelled. This night we travelled only two miles. We hid in the brush, about fifty feet from the road, where, all the next day, we heard the Indians passing and repassing. When dark came on we started for the fort, and got three miles further. We then gave out, and again hid in the brush, and then spent another mournful day in the Indian country. When night came on, finding that Margaret was unable to travel, I took John Law on my back and started for Fort Wallawalla, yet twenty miles distant. When I had arrived within six miles of the fort, I lay down in the wet grass till morning. About nine o'clock I reached the fort, where Mr. McBean met me, and told me he had reported me among the dead. He gave me about half a pint of tea, and two small biscuits. When we had got warin I asked for assistance to bring in my family, but was unable to procure any.

During the day Mr. Stanley came up from Fort Colville with two horses, which he offered me. At night we got a little more to eat, and an Indian being hired to go with me, I prepared for a start. Mr. McBean said I must go to the bishop on the Umatilla. I refused, but he said I must, for if we came back we could not have a mouthful of food. I asked him for some bread to carry to my family, for they had had nothing but a little cold mush since Monday. He gave me none, but Mr. Stanley gave me some bread, sugar, tea and salt, and gave John Law pair of socks and a fine silk handkerchief. The priest gave me a letter to the bishop. All being ready, we started, the Indian leading

the way, and made all haste to get back to my wife and children. When we came near, we commenced hunting, but could not find them owing to the dark. We gave up the search until daylight; soon after we found them, almost perished with hunger and thirst. The Indian got water, and I gave them bread; and in about ten minutes we began to get ready to start; being so near the Indians that had committed the murders, our guide was anxious to return.

We started to go by the company's farm, and had not got more than two miles, where we got off at a creek, before we saw an Indian coming toward us; he came up with speed, and spoke very friendly to me, but told my Indian that he would kill me, and put his hand on his pistol. My Indian asked him if he was an old woman, that he would kill an old man that was sick, with a sick wife and children. After they had talked for some time he replied that, as he never had shed blood, he would not; but said, tell him to hurry and be gone, for the murderers will follow and kill him before he gets to the Umatilla. My Indian told me to hurry we started, and the Indian followed close behind for some distance, and then left, and we soon got to the farm where we were to change horses. We were directed to stop here till night, but the Frenchman would not let us stay, for he said the Indians would be there before night. Here was the first fire that Margaret and two of the children had seen since Monday. We warmed a few minutes and started as though we would go to the bishop's. When we were out of sight we turned, and thought we would risk going to the fort. We went on as fast as we could, but soon after dark Margaret gave out, and had to be tied to the Indian's back, but we got to the fort about 10 o'clock.

Mr. McBean helped us into an empty room, and we soon had a fire. We had hardly got warm before McBean came to me and wanted me to leave my family with him, and go down to the valley by myself; but I refused to leave the fort, and would not go; but God fed us here until Mr. Ogden came up from Fort Vancouver, and brought the women and children here. We had to spend one month among Roman Catholics and Indians, and fed for some time on meat, having but little bread; we helped to eat one horse, which gave my wife the dysentery.

Mr. Ogden, one of the principal agents of the Hudson's Bay Company, took us down to Oregon city. After we got to the city, John Law died, and was buried in the same grave with Alexander Findley. I can say but little more about the massacre; we may say. however, that it was nothing but the hand of Almighty God that delivered us out of the hands of these cruel savages.

The climate of Oregon is pleasant and healthy. Wheat is good here, so are vegetables. Father Courtney was killed by the falling of a tree. Putnam lost his wife with the camp fever. There is a call here for all kinds of machinery. I am now building a saw and grist mill for Rees & Cottle. Jane and Lydia were married about new-year. Jane lost her husband this month; the rest are well. Yours, &c.

JOSIAH OSBORN.

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