Our father, Jacob Robbins, was born in Breckenridge County, Kentucky, on the plantation of Colonel J. C. Breckenridge, in the year of 1809, residing there with his parents until he was two years old. At this time his father headed a colony that crossed the Ohio River, into a portion of Indiana known as the “Old Pigeon Roost.” There must of been forty men in the colony, most of whom had families. They immediately began the work of establishing homes, building log cabins, clearing ground for gardens, etc.

They had just gotten fairly started in 1812, which was the beginning of the war with England, which the British Subjects incited the Indians to massacre all new settlers in that part of the country. Only two families, out of forty, made their escape, one being our grandfather's family. He'd had a lot of experience with the Indians, and was continuously on the alert, and felt uneasy on this particular night. Not being able to sleep for the thought of what might happen, he got up, and looked out, saw the light from the burning buildings and realized that immediate flight was necessary.

As he had only one horse, he put his wife and smaller children on that, and they started out, grandfather and the older children walking. Our father, being only three years old, rode behind his mother on the horse.

They took a circuitous route out through the timber, until they were satisfied they were behind the Indians, after which they turned back to the road that led out of the settlement, passing near enough to some of the burning houses that they could see the horrible work done by the Indians, even saw the heads of some of the settlers setting on the gate post.

They traveled in this manner for several miles, or until they reached a very large hollow log, that he had often seen. He had his wife and children crawl in this log and remain there until he could return for them. He then took the horse and dog some distance from them fearing they might make some noise that would attract the Indians. He tied the animals both to a tree, and left them there till he moved on. He knew their methods well enough to know they would not be long in getting away after they had accomplished all the meanness they could do.

Just as soon as it was safe to start out on the road again they made their way back into Kentucky, where they remained until peace was established, after which they returned to the very same place they tried before, where our grandmother died. Our father was five years old at this time.

After suffering many hardships trying to keep the family together, our father was bound out to a relative who gave a written promise to see that he had a certain amount of schooling. He remained with them until he was eight years old, and it was truly a very hard three years for him. Living was poor, clothes were scarce and the schooling that was promised only amounted to three days. He then decided to run away, and make his way back to Kentucky, near where he was born. This he did but imagine his disappointment on his return to Kentucky to find all of his relatives gone. After working his way the best he could, he finally located Abe Lincoln’s people who lived not far away. Abe being his second cousin, they soon became warm friends.

The Lincolns were poor people and not financially able to care for more than the family they already had. So although young in years, the life our father had led made him feel much older, and he realized he must not be a burden to them. So he resolved again to start out, and see what he could do for himself. There happened to be a large rock or boulder near by; he climbed up on that and sat most all one day, thinking and planning his future course, the outcome of which he confided to his cousin Abe.

There was not much preparation he could make as all the clothing he had was on his back, which consisted of a tow-linen shirt and short pants; he was soon ready for his trip. He had been told he had an Uncle Billie Robbins (who was a Revolution hero) living in Indiana near a little town called Greenburg. He fought and was wounded in the battle of Bunker Hill. He entered the war at the age of about eighteen years. He became a man of sterling qualities and very prominent in the country where he lived.

So resolved to find this uncle at any risk, he and Abe bade each other a solemn farewell, and he started his journey. Knowing at what point on the Ohio river there was a ferry, getting across was not bothering him. Trudging along he encountered an old lady who accosted him saying, “Law me! Little man what are you doing down here, where are you going, and whose boy are you?” He told her his name was Jakey Robbins. “They call me Little Jake.” He told her he wanted to cross the Ohio River. She said to him, “The Injun’s will sure get you; they are a bad set. He replied, “I never did them any harm and I'm not afraid, besides they are friendly now.”

When she found he was determined to go on, she asked him what he intended doing for something to eat, he assured her he would find people along the way who would give him a bite to eat. But she well knew there were no settlers near where he would pass, so she told him to come to her cabin and she would divide what she had with him, which consisted of a single pone of corn bread. She broke it in half and gave him one portion; she said all they had had in addition was an occasional mess of fish or squirrel that her Ole Man might get when he went fishing or hunting. She carefully did his half pone up in a little sack that he could swing over his shoulder, and with many misgivings as to what may happen to him, she told him her Ole Man had a little boat, what took folks across the river and that he charged ten cents for the trip, but didn't know if he would take him without the money or not. However he proceeded down to the river and found the old ferryman, who was amazed at the courage and confidence the little fellow had in his determination to push on and find his relatives. He didn't forget to ask the little man if he had the price of the trip across (10 cents) though. When the boy said he had no money, the old fellow said, “It was a mighty hard pull across the river and he didn't like to do it without his money, but admiring the boy’s courage he finally decided to do it, providing Little Jake would promise if he ever passed that way again, he would pay the ten cents.

Landing on the other side of the river he immediately started a lonely trail that immigrants had cut through the forest, to enable them to get into the interior of the state. He soon found it was going to be a very hard and wearisome trip, in his bare feet. He had only gone a few miles when darkness overtook him, and he was forced to take shelter under a friendly tree. With the use of his pocket knife, flint, and punk, he in a short time had a bon fire. The knife he used was his prized possession; it was old and broken, but had one good steel blade that was always sure of making a spark with a flint.

Being very tired with his days travel, he leaned up against the tree and was soon fast asleep. Early the next morning he was awake, ate a small portion of the corn loaf, and was on his way again.

He traveled in this manner for several days. The road was rough, the country was very sparsely settled, and it was only occasionally that he was fortunate enough to find some settlers where could get milk and fresh corn pone.

Most of the settlers kept very savage dogs, which were a source of great anxiety to him, and it was always with some trepidation and fear that he approached the homes. However everyone he met was very kind to him, but even so it took much persuasion to get him to accept shelter, he preferring to keep to himself.

After two or three days his feet became very sore, making the remainder of his trip extremely painful and tedious, but at the end of six or seven days he was rewarded by finding his Uncle Billie Robbins’ home. Arriving there he saw a man some distance from the house and on approaching him, and being asked who he was, and where he had came from, said “I am Little Jake Robbins, have come from Kentucky, I'm hunting my Uncle Billie Robbins.”

He was delighted, of course, to find that he was talking to the very uncle whom he had made a perilous trip to find. Of course his uncle was astounded when he heard the boy’s story of how he traveled one hundred miles or more, alone without food and very scantily dressed.

He told him to go down to the house and Aunt Thy would give him some bread and milk. Of course he found a sympathizing friend in her. After she had fed him, bathed and bound up his sore and bleeding feet, he felt like a new boy, and was ready to start right into his new duties. For several days until his feet were better, he contented himself with just helping with chores, and during this time the kind aunt was making him clothes out of some discarded ones she had saved from her own boys, who were grown and out doing for themselves. At last one day Uncle Billie called Jakey to him and said, “You need some shoes and a hat, but I have no money to buy clothes with, and right here Jakey, I want to impress you with the idea that you must depend upon on your own resources, it is necessary for your future success in life. I know a man who wants a boy to do chores and pull weeds out of the garden, and will pay ten cents a day. The prospect sounded alluring to Little Jakey, and after eleven days of hard work he had one dollar and ten cents. Which he proudly took home to his Uncle, who told him he was going to town that day so would take his money and get him a pair of shoes.

The man was so pleased with his work that he told him he would give him another ten days work, which Jakey was only too glad to accept. With the dollar from the ten days work, he bought a hat of which he was justly proud. He always said in later life that no matter how good clothes he had, he never felt so well satisfied with himself as he did with the first hard earned pair of course shoes and first real store hat.

Feeling he was properly clothed he said he was ready to go to work in earnest for his uncle, who realized by this time the little fellow could be quite a help to him in clearing the land that he was getting ready for cultivation.

Wanting to do the right thing by the boy, his uncle told him he would give him three pigs and the use of three acres of land to raise corn to fatten them. He would also feed the pigs during the winter for a certain amount of work that Jakey was to do.

Having a keen sense for business he everlastingly fed those pigs, so that by spring they were fat enough to sell. This he did, getting seven dollars for them, and no millionaire ever felt more pleased with his efforts than he did when he received that seven dollars. He used that money to buy a brood sow, and also some pigs, which by the next season were large enough to be fed the crop of corn. He then sold them for thirty dollars and from then on realizing a profitable business.

About this time he had commenced using his uncles old Yauger gun to kill squirrels. He took it with him to the hills one day when he was looking after his hogs. Suddenly he spied a big buck deer, taking deliberate aim he fired, and the deer fell, he expected to find him dead, but to his dismay, the fellow raised up on his front feet, and showed fight. The boy ran around him frantically trying to get hold of his immense horns, so he could throw him down. He finally succeeded and then there was a tussle for a few minutes; however the boy won out. He opened his prized knife, the back spring being broken, it was very hard to make any headway in cutting the deer’s throat, but after working it first one way and then the other, he finally succeeded. Of course he was highly excited and could hardly get home fast enough to tell his uncle what he had done. Uncle Billie was very proud of him, and went with the horse to bring home the deer. They found him too big to lift onto the horse, so made skids, and worked him up the best they could. After that he did lots of hunting, killing many deer and wild turkeys. Though very young he became an expert with a rifle.

He kept on working for his uncle, clearing land and putting his earnings into more hogs, they thrived beyond his wildest expectations on the various nuts that grew so abundantly in that section of the country. He worked there until he was past thirteen years old, and had a woods full of hogs.

Living in the same vicinity was his Uncle Billie's oldest son, Uncle Natty, who was a member of the Constitutional Convention of the State of Oregon (note by author: He was to become later). He was in poor health and felt the need of a good willing boy to help him carry on the work of the farm. Knowing his father Uncle Billie could very well spare the boy, as he was able to do his work without the assistance of Little Jake, they made the change, Uncle Natty had a large amount of rich bottom land and had to have the help in getting it cleared and ready for cultivation. The boy was to have a certain part of the crop each year. He continued to invest his profits in hogs for the next two years; at the end of that time he decided to buy a fine colt, and later a heifer calf, both of which in time gave him a start of stock. The colt proved to be a very fine animal, and he raised several splendid horses from her.

He continued with Uncle Natty until he was about twenty years old. At the end of that time he had accumulated several head of stock, also quite a sum of money. He decided to invest in land of his own. Feeling he would like to find a piece with part cleared and some improvements, he commenced looking and found a place about three miles from his Uncle Natty. Much to his satisfaction he found that the road he had trudged over a few years before in his bare feet, hunting for his Uncle Billie, passed through this place, and he very quickly decided it was the place he wanted. He soon had some land cleared and an orchard planted in seedling trees, which were almost ready to bear.

He later had them grafted with first class fruit, other improvements consisted of a log house with one room, and a log barn. I was born in that log house, in the year 1833, and I have often wondered if that has not had something to do with my love for the primitive.

In addition to working his own land, he still continued to helping on Uncle Natty’s farm for two or three years, all the time raising corn for his hogs, which were increasing rapidly by this time.

Having established what at that time was considered a good home, there was something missing to make it complete. He decided what was missing was a little wife to grace his one room cabin.

The next question was how to set about securing this “Fairy Queen” of his boyhood dreams. So the next thing he did was purchase a broadcloth suit, grey beaver hat, and a scotch plaid cloak, such as worn those days. Then came the new saddle, bridle and fancy trappings for his horse. I have a very vivid picture in my mind as to just how he looked in this outfit. The colt he had previously bought proved to be a beautiful riding animal, and he took great pride in keeping her slick and trim, and it was this same beautiful little bay mare that aided him in seeking the girl of his choice, who later became our mother.

Our mother, who was Sarah Spillman, was born in Kentucky in a little town just opposite Cincinnati, Ohio, on October 23, 1813. When she was about twelve years old her father decided to move to Missouri, which was a new country, just beginning to be settled. He constructed a flat boat on which he loaded his family, included consisted (sic) of his wife and five children, our mother being the second child. He employed a man to help him run the boat, and they went down the Ohio River to the Mississippi, then up the Mississippi to the Missouri. They found traveling down the Ohio River very easy, but going up the other two was vastly different. The current was strong to row against, most of the time, so one had to pull the boat with a rope, while the other used a pole to keep the boat from crowding too near the shore, and also in aiding in pushing the boat ahead, making it a very slow and tiresome task. Wherever night overtook them, they would camp on the bank of the river. They finally reached a place on the Missouri River called Golconda where they landed and decided to build a home. They built a log cabin and had lived there two years when the mother in the family died. The country there proved to be very unhealthy, there being much fever and ague. Her father managed to get some of the land ready for cultivation, so he could raise plenty garden and corn for the stock he had, which was a couple of cows and two large oxen. After another year of hard struggling, trying to keep his children together he decided to give it up, and take his children across country to Indiana, where his mother and other relatives lived. So again he loaded his effects, this time into a wagon, and with the two oxen drawing them, set forth.

I forgot to say, while they lived on the Missouri River, they were constantly bothered by the Indians who were begging for bread and salt. They were harmless but a great nuisance as they would steal everything they could lay hands on.

The first steamboats that was (sic) ever on the Missouri River began running up and down the river while they lived there. It was a great curiosity to the Indians, and when it would puff up stream, some of them would come to the house to the mother and say, “Uch Sick Cheeman,” “Sick Cheeman,” (Cheeman meaning boat). Leaving there, they started out across the State of Missouri. The roads were new and very rough, making travel slow and tiresome. They continued on across Illinois and one corner of Michigan into the northern part of Indiana, then in a southern direction, went down as far as Indianapolis into Rush County where they found Grandfather Spillman’s mother and other relatives. There they found homes with different members of the Spillman family, our mother making her home with Grandma Spillman for years. Being very industrious, and quick to learn, she soon became a great favorite. She learned to card wool by hand, spin and knit and weave cloth which they made into clothing for the family. She had a cousin who was a Methodist minister, the Rev. Thomas Spillman by name. He lived with his family, in the neighborhood of the Robbins. Being a circuit rider he was away from home most of the time. They had three small children. His wife needed some help as well as company. Having heard of Sarah Spillman, being such a faithful worker, and so very reliable, he went over into Rush County and persuaded Grandmother Spillman to let him take her home to live with them, which she did. There she found plenty to do, helping with all the work, knitting and spinning, and sewing, in fact anything that was to be done. Grandfather Robbins had a cousin by the name of John Robbins, who was a very devout Methodist, so naturally he and Rev. Spillman were very close friends. The two families often exchanged visits and attended church together. So in that way Jacob Robbins and Sarah Spillman became acquainted.

He was not long in recognizing her sterling qualities, and made up his mind, that he had found the vision of his boyhood dreams, and she too, must of had her day dreams, for on March 23, 1833 Jacob Robbins and Sarah Spillman were married and from that union ten children were born, seven whom are now living.

To continue the story of Little Jake Robbins, who has became a manhood stature and had taken a talented and beautiful girl for his wife:

He acquired extensive lands by the sweat of his brow. Jacob Robbins, called “Pappy” by his children, at this time was six foot tall, had heavy black hair, deep blue eyes and white skin with rosy cheeks. Sarah, his wife, called “Mother”, was slender, fair complexion, rosy cheeked, and had golden brown hair and hazel eyes. She was a true helpmate, could spin and weave, was a famous cook, all which stood her in good stead as her family grew up. They were a model group and sang at their work and play.

Their home was near Greensburg, Indiana. Pappy grew lots of corn and fattened many hogs which he drove to the market at Cincinnati, Ohio. He also kept thoroughbred horses, being a great lover of them. He was a beautiful rider until a few days of his death at age of 87 years. He kept many helpers, and in clearing land of walnut and hickory nut trees, they had great log-rollings and fires, while everyone feasted and had a merry time. They also had sugar maple grooves where sugar was made by boiling sap in large iron kettles when the snow was on. Many kinds of nuts were stored for winter as they grew in abundance there. Wild grapes and plums and wild game such as deer, turkey, etc., were plentiful. Pappy was a famous gardener. The boys helped to hoe the long rows of corn and always welcomed the call to dinner. No music was so sweet to the ears of Pappy and the boys as the sound of the old conch shell blown by Mother. The women cooked before a fireplace which was large enough for two men to roll in a big walnut backlog. They had plenty of cobblers, etc. Mother had girl helpers with all this work, her own girls being yet to small.

Pappy built a cottage in his yard where his father and stepmother lived a while. For many years his aged grandparents, William Hanks and wife Elizabeth Hall Hanks lived in this cottage home and took much of the care of we children, especially Nancy Jane who was named for their daughter, Nancy Hanks, who married Jacob Robbins, Sr., the parents of our Pappy. These old folks were spoken of as Granddaddy and Granny Hanks, in Pappy’s home. Pappy grew much garden and corn, Granddaddy helping with the hoeing and often in the cold autumn days he would surprise we children by carrying in a fine watermelon which he had stowed away in the corn shocks for us. Granny was a fine knitter and kept we children in mittens. They were good old people and had reared a large family. While they were not rich in worldly goods they helped to make our childhood happy, and we regretted leaving them. Mother and her helpers did not forget them when they were so busy spinning and weaving and getting ready for the long journey to Oregon, but made them a lot of nice clothes before taking them to another home. Granddaddy said with tears in his eyes, “I've never had so many clothes before.” They made him one big long cape coat of fine woolen cloth, dyed red and trimmed with big brass buttons which especially delighted him as bright colors were much in evidence then. As they were departing, Mother told us to watch them as far as we could as we would never see them again. We watched and they passed over the hill out of our sight, we as little children begin to feel the effect of the last farewells-- so soon to be said to all our friends at this happy home of our childhood, in Indiana of which we took the last lingering look on the morning of March 19, 1852.

Pappy owned a big meadow with two creeks running through it with shady grooves where the hewn log schoolhouse stood. He kept horses and a fine herd of deer in this enclosure. Sometimes one would come into the schoolroom, and the girls would climb upon the teache,rs desk until the boys came to their rescue.

The scholars sat on benches made of split logs with wooden pegs for legs. These benches were so tall that the little fellows had to swing their feet. Harvey and Levi, being the two older children with only fourteen months between them, were always together. y being five and Levi four years old when they went to this log schoolhouse, though y had gone to Rev. Thomas Spillman, his mother's uncle who was staying with them at the time. He would pack Harvey on his back to school. The schoolhouse was a small log building at Pin Hook Village. The one Harvey and Levi first attended together was in this shady park, a nice place for little fellows to get dreamy thinking of the fish they could catch on their pin hooks. Mr. Samuel Hyde was their teacher and when they would get sleep he would crack a big whip on the floor behind them and say, “If I'd hit that fly it would of killed him.” Little children were so afraid of their teachers then, so Uncle Jonathan and Aunt Peggy asked Levi to stay with them for a while and Uncle Jonathan gave him a Geographical History of the United States, which is one of his prized possessions, it being printed 113 years ago.

One morning Harvey took the corn to feed the deer and as he failed to put it down quick enough to suit old doe, she stood up and knocked him down with her hoofs and kept striking him with her hoofs, he crying for help by calling, “Murder! Murder!!” until our Pappy came to the rescue on the run opening his knife on the way. Knives in those days were not play things. Seeing the vengeance in Pappy’s eyes, the deer fled. One morning one of the neighbors came to borrow some fire. She had on a sun bonnet, and the doe took a notion to play with her by standing up and striking her on the head with her hoofs. They heard the girl crying, “Quit! Quit! Murder! Murder! Oh, Jake! Jake!” until Pappy came to the rescue. This deer became so wicked it had to be killed.

At one time Pappy had a fine bunch of hogs fattening in a chain of corn fields in his lowlands. There came a heavy rain which flooded these fields. Pappy was alone at the time (when) he discover the creek over-flowed and the fields were under water. He, being a strong and vigorous man at the time, did not hesitate but struck out on a long run to a high log across the creel three miles above. The man living in the house near was standing by watching the hogs struggling in the water, having laid down the gaps in the fence. The hogs unable to see the gaps were trying to climb to the top of the corn shocks, some of the fat ones cutting their own throats with their hoofs. while the others were drowning. Pappy was very warm from his long run but did not hesitate but swam right in to save as many as he could by putting his hand under their noses and swimming out to shallow water. Forty or more fat ones and sixty or more stock hogs were drowned. This event was in Dec 1847. Pappy worked with the hogs until he became exhausted and fell and had to be carried to a house near by and put to bed to revive. Herb tea and hot applications were the remedies. He was left with inflammatory rheumatism and was not able to do any hard work for some time.

Our house was a big house painted red, consequently Pappy was spoken of as “Red House Jake” there being other Jacobs. Under this house was a fine lime stone cellar with a trench fixed running water trough to cool the milk. Early and late could be heard the spinning wheels and laughter of the girl helpers.

Pappy built a magnificent big barn on the hillside with stone wall on three sides as he kept much stock; it was a two story structure. This wonderful barn has since been destroyed by fire, yet not daunted they kept bravely on.

So far, we can learn of the family of Robbins among the early settlers in America: there came three brothers from Wales. The family we trace back to was among the first settlers in Virginia, being one of those three brothers. There were a family of father, and mother and twelve stalwart sons all who helped to make our country what it is today, working only as freemen can, hewing houses from the forest of Virginia and later fighting for the freedom of America. Many young men of the same name, descendents of these brave men, fought in the late world war to keep that freedom so nobly won.

In the early days of this country, hunting and trapping kept the families supplied with meat and clothing, such as native red men wore, buckskin raiment with fur caps, till years later sheep gave up their fleeces to the spinning wheels, flax was grown and linens were wove. Do we ever stop to think what our freedom has accomplished, yet the pioneers look back longingly to their younger and happier days by the fireside in a log cabin.

The strain of adventure being handed down to Pappy and others and the call of the west being strong, in '52' we came to the unknown wilds of Oregon. Of this trip from Indiana to Oregon by ox team we will now give you a brief sketch of the journey. This train had many adventures, and it took strong determination to meet some of the difficulties encountered.

We have lost our guide books, but from memory we will give you some of our memory pictures of the journey. We boys on leaving Indiana were big boys, eighteen and seventeen, wore our hair bobbed, were dressed in red cloth coats, log trousers, silk stove pipe hats and were blue eyed and rosy cheeked. All the family were well clothed for the journey by cloth made in the home and dyed by Aunt Polly Burke, one of Mother's sisters.

We left the place known as, “Red House Jake's Place,” eight miles south of Greensburg at the forks of Sand Creek, Indiana, on March 19, 1852. Many relatives and friends were present to bid us farewell. Pappy came at the suggestion of Uncle Natty Robbins, who sold his place, the year before and moved to Missouri. He returned to collect bills and settle up business with the intention of coming to Oregon Territory and wanted Pappy to come with him. Pappy deciding to make the trip made a hasty sale of his farm and belongings not needed for the trip and got together necessary oxen teams and equipment for the journey. Mother and helpers made woolen clothing and bedding for the journey. Some of the coverlets made then are still in the family having been in constant service. They still retain their beauty of design and coloring. The dyes being mostly indigo blue, madder, cherry red, and walnut brown and were as lasting as the cloth. America was then in the making. They worked to complete a task not by the hour, there being no clock and got their reward from work well done.

Uncle “Natty” was a doctor and his services were much in demand. William Robbins, his oldest son, came to Missouri one year before we left, so their family joined the party near Huntsville. There were also six or seven daughters in this family as follows: Amanda Minerva, Emiline (Mrs. Absolum Barnes), Jane (Mrs. John Hamilton), Mahala, Zobede (Mrs William Sharp), Nancy (Mrs. Joseph Barstow) and Angline. Amanda, Emiline and Mahala took cholera and died near “Dry Sandy” in what is known as Kansas, and all are buried in one grave. Six miles on at Little Blue River, Absolum Barnes died and was buried. This being the great cholera year, many were left by the wayside. Mother and Oliver of Pappy's family had it, and Oliver was very bad but they saved him by the use of good whiskey and strong pepper tea.

When buying some oxen near Huntsville, Mo., the owner told Harvey that he could ride one of them as it was broken and very gentle, so Harvey climbed on. This one was next to the wheel of four yoke of oxen, and some of these oxen were not well broken so kept bucking around disturbing the leaders until they came to a long steep hill and the wild ones got them all to running. Harvey was aboard and had a long whip in his hand which he swung and cracked ahead of them, but they were all running away down hill going faster and faster. Harvey slid down his stead’s back until he came to the yoke where he clung on for dear life until they reached the bottom of the hill and got going up the hill on the other side, when the mud soon tired them out and Harvey lived to tell the story.

Pappy thinking Harvey would be killed got on a young mare and tried to over take them but Old Roan was not yet well broken so he only added to the excitement.

In Missouri at the Little Platte River, we were across when two small families started across above the mill dam. One of their cows had a young calf and about midstream it took a notion to swim with the current so went over the dam and washed ashore unharmed. The cow followed and went over but could never get out of the whirlpool below. As they washed almost ashore the whirl would catch them and carry them under until they were exhausted and drowned. The young married women who owned the cows followed the shore and cried and called them by name, but all in vain, they drowned.

More than fifty years later I was telling of this same tragedy to the gathering around the stove in Robbins Bros. Store at Modalle, (Oregon) when an old man called Uncle Peter Boyles spoke up saying that he could vouch for that for he was present at the time.

One day the sun was shining bright on the plains when someone saw a glimmer far ahead, and on coming nearer we investigated and found it was a circle of real live skunks, apparently having a war dance. They were standing on their front feet with their tails waving in the air and moving silently in a weird fashion. The glimmer was the sun shining on their fur.

At one supply station our train was taking on supplies, there being two tracks and another train was passing. Mother was sitting in the front of the wagon churning butter, Colonel Moore was holding a calf in his wagon and as the wagon came along side he says: “That's right, Mother, you churn, I'll hold the calf.”

In the train was an attractive young woman, and in our train was a young man. They became acquainted but did not get to see each other for hundreds of miles again as our train was delayed by the creek rising before we got across. In a few days they were far ahead of us but this young woman left dated messages by the wayside written on a buffalo bones, which we eagerly watched for, thus we kept in touch with those ahead.

Pappy started with 21 yoke of oxen from Missouri and six young mares. Only one of the mares, called Old Roan, withstood the journey. One of the mares was bitten by a rattlesnake and an Indian Man made them understand that it could be cured by burning around it with a hot iron if they would give him, “Heap big double handful of powder.” For evidence that they could cure a snake bite they showed a scar on one of their own ponies they had thus cured, but before Pappy had decided to let the Indian try the remedy, the nice young mare had died.

We saw a buffalo stampede, and also our stock were stampeded one evening by an army of beetles flying over us. The next stampede we had was this side of Little Blue River. Some of the young folks were riding and driving some of the loose stock, some of which had bells on. Then they got way behind the train and thinking to catch up began cracking their whips and whooping and hurrying their own horses. The cattle got the spirit of the race and away they sped right into the train of 17 wagons. Levi drove the family wagon all the way, and he being the first to catch the warning yelled, “Whoa Buck and Brandy”, and they being prompt to obey set themselves so suddenly that the wheels ran into them with such force that Levi, the most trusted and careful of Pappy's drivers, had to go over the top. Mr. John Hamiliton, thinking he would help Levi reached back over his wagon and cracked his whip in their faces, at the same time losing control of his own team and away they all went in every direction, 17 covered wagons heavily laden with four or five yoke of steers to each. One partnership wagon full of provisions and Mr Hamiliton’s wagon wheels struck together with such force that all the spokes were broken out, and they had to make a cart out of the wagon. Some of the wagons went up steep his while others kept to the plains, but all were going full speed. One wagon turned over and Uncle ‘Natty's’ daughter Zobede was under it until rescued. She is now 88 yrs old and remembers it all so vividly. One little girl said as their wagon came to a halt, “Mama! didn't we have a nice ride!”

One incident was the killing of a fine big buck, by some of the boys, which they could not bring into camp, though they started with the hams. It was getting late in the evening when they met a big grisly bear coming around the mountain side which looked so fierce they dropped that nice venison and took the short cut for camp.

At one stream some Mormom men had a ferry and charged five dollars for every wagon they took across. Pappy knew that this was too much so started out and found a good place to cross and all got over safely; then all other trains followed. Thus Mr. Mormom saw his dreams of riches vanish and was in for revenge, so he planned and ran off a lot of stock which could never be found. They made this appear to have been the work of Indians, however, we got across without many Indian scares.

At another crossing, prices were too high to suit Pappy, so he again jaunted to a place he believed all could get over safely saying, “Block up Boys.” The ferry man said, “You can't do it.” One of the men replied, “We're going to Oregon, you go to hell.”

Uncle Natty and children settled about eight west of Orange City near what is known as Tualatin (Oregon). We left them at Old Fort Boise where they laid over for a more favorable wind for ferrying the river. Pappy and family being short of food and very progressive decided to cross and come on.

After leaving Uncle Natty, there were 23 in the party consisting of Jacob and Sarah Robbins, and seven sons and two daughters. their names are; Harvey, Levi, Thomas, Martin, Oliver, Jane, Theodore, Aeron, and Amanda Minerva, who was only two years old at that time. Also Miss Elizabeth Sharp, James Gardner, who drove one provision wagon and Wm. French, who fell ill of lung fever near Fort Garney. Harvey, then a lad of 18, drove the four yoke of oxen and nursed the sick man. Another family by the name of Connor, man and wife, the sons, one daughter, one stepson (Mr. Martin) and one half brother, Wm. Huff, came on with them as driver. This made up the party until supplies became so low that two of the men were sent on ahead to do as best they could for themselves. Thus the party was never reunited as Aaron died of mountain fever at Sandy River and Theodore died of the same malady at Samuel Barlow's at Barlow Prairie. Provisions were high then. Pappy paying $50.00 for one hundred pounds of flour and $25.00 for a small side of bacon at The Dalles.

Levi drove the family wagon until they reached the Columbia Gorge at The Dalles. Pappy and Mr. Connor, with most of the big boys, drove the cattle down the river while the women, children and wagons were put on flat boats. At The Dalles, we took the wheels off the wagons to make them as low as possible and loaded them with provisions and families on two flat boats and floated down the Columbia River until we reached The Cascades. It was snowing and raining, and the two little boys were very ill. Here we unloaded the boats and portaged about four miles around the rapids on the north side of the river. The flat boats arrived at the Sandy River about two days before the stock. The stock was driven on the south side of the river until they reached a place opposite the mouth of the Sandy known as Parker's Landing. Here we had to swim the stock across again. It was cold and stormy, snowing and raining most of the time, making it hard on the travel worn band.

It was slippery and bad traveling for the stock and at Shell Rock point east of the Cascades on the south side of the river, Bill French's big ox, “Old Bright”, which had been his leader all the way across the plains, became so sore footed and poor that he could travel no longer and so had to be shot. This was a very hard job, but one that had to be done. The old ox had been very faithful and always ready to do his best, and when he fell and could not get up he gave a mournful bawl that we boys could never forget.

Tom and Harvey became ill of mountain fever and Tom had to ride most all the way on the one horse. Harvey was camp maker, and it was his duty to go ahead and make camp and cook meals. He was sick and rations were short, so it was necessary to get camp meat whenever they could. So on making camp at Castle Rock he heard some honkers (big geese) and noticing that one of them appeared to be tired; he got his rifle and when it lit, shot its head off and had it for supper. They also killed several young grouse which helped to supply the camp with meat.

Pappy came back and helped swim the stock across again at Sandy River. Then the men and the boys, nine in number, got into a small row boat and were paddled across by Joe Conner. The boat was almost dipping water, but the river was calm that evening and they were very quite so got safely over, Harvey by this time was a very sick boy, and death was in the camp as little Aaron died that night.

Mr. Herrin came to the rescue at this camp, he having crossed in 1845 and settled near Salem. He was Pappy’s cousin having married Uncle Natty's sister Docia. They knowing that the train had started and was getting in late, Mr. Herrin got on his horse and found us at this camp on the Sandy, sick, and travel worn. Seeing our needs he rode back home as quickly as he could, and his brother Noah gathered supplies into the wagons and with good strong oxen came to our rescue meeting us at Mr. Barlow’s where Theodore had died. We boys were both down sick by this time, but the wagons kept on to their destination at Salem Prairie where Mr. Herrin had rented a house for them. Here they spent most of the winter. This house was on the corner of Mr. Savage’s farm

Winter was on when we arrived in November. After we were settled and over the fever, we boys made lots of rails. There was much snow that winter, the Willamette River getting so high that it flooded all of Salem. John Herrin later married Lizzie Sharp, the girl who came all way across the plains with us and was so good to help wait on the sick. Simeon, Noah, Levi, and Jimmie all second cousin of Pappy’s. (Herrin's boys)

Later in the winter, Pappy bought land joining Luke Savages and Mr. Z. Pollard. In 1856 or 1857, we boys bought the Pollard place raising apples and grain for the market. On this farm was a two story house. We had a visitor one day and he got the wrong plate at the table, so we had to tell him we had turn-over plates. We got tired of batching and decided that some housekeepers would be nice to have.

In 1855 , Harvey went to the Rouge River Indian War. Levi stayed on the farm and took care of the cattle. It was a hard winter with lots of snow and was intensely cold. They also owned a farm in Linn County with a log cabin on it, and Levi had to ride horse back from Linn county to Salem feeding the stock at both places. Harvey was away six or eight months in this war. The same day he got his discharge from this company, he reenlisted to go to Walla Walla and Yakima to fight the Cayuse and Yakima Indians, who were murdering the stockmen; also they had killed one Indian agent. On his first enlistment, to keep from freezing to death, they had to dig into the snow and wrap their blankets around them to sleep. Shoes wore out and they had to wrap the feet in raw beef hides to keep the ice from forming cutting them. Once he came home with lice in his blankets and Mother gave him a nice new pair saying, “Harve you must be more careful,” so he promised to try, and every time he would roll his blankets up before leaving camp. One day he came into camp quietly and seeing some of the boys very busy at something with their heads close together like two small boys in mischief, he saw that they had his new blankets open before them and were picking their own blankets’ vermin and putting them into his.

Two years later, the tenth of June 1856, Harve married Miss Perlina Willoughby from near Pora, Linn County. A year later Levi married Miss Ediff (Edith?) Barger from near Harrisburg, Linn County. In 1860 Pappy, traded the home he had bought two miles east of Salem for Mr. Charles Sweigle’s donation land claim on the Molalla Prairie, where Mother died on Christmas Eve 1865. She died suddenly of heart failure. She was well as usual and told all the children to have dinner with them on Christmas Day. In the night a boy staying with them came for Levi and Ediff (Edith?), who had bought the adjoining place, to tell them that Mother, as everyone called her, was dead.

Mr. Reese, one of the neighbors, gave a plat of land for the burying place which is now called the Adams Cemetery, a beautiful resting place over looking the Molalla River with Mt. Hood in the distance. Later Pappy had his two little sons, Aaron and Theodore, brought and laid to rest beside their mother.

Pappy at the age of 75 chaperoned a party of 12 young folks, and drove one of the teams all the way to Salem River Beach, a trip of three and a half days.

One of the characteristics of this family was the love of natural beauty and sports, such as hunting and fishing. When Pappy was 80 years old, one day he heard some hounds coming down the river, so he took Levi’s new single barrel shot gun which some of the hunters called, “Levi's Pop Gun, only fit to kill crickets with.” He got there just in time to kill the first that came along and loaded again when the second one came up. He killed them both so saved the reputation of Levi’s gun. Oliver was the real hunter of the family and can tell you many good stories of those times when game was plentiful here. In places where the fir groves are now monarch, when we came to Mohalla, deer heads could be seen above their tops. Pappy and all his sons were sure shots, and even Jane and did shoot birds. All had exciting adventures here in the early days when every shot had to spell death to the wild animals.

Pappy died on February 15, 1896 and was placed beside his wife and two sons in the plat he had kept so nice all of those lonely years. His life was a busy and useful one from the time of his youth until his death at the age of 87 years.

Uncle Natty Robbins was drowned in the Tualatin River at a mill dam, crossing over above the dam on a raft, the pole being broken proved to be too short to reach the bottom, and he being too old to swim, went over and was lost. A Chinese boy on the raft with him swam ashore before they got into the swift current.

Of Pappy’s family of children, four boys and three girls are still living, all in Oregon, Sarah Ellen, the youngest child being an Oregonian, having been born at their home in Sales Prairie. Like Pappy she and Amanda Minerva were beautiful riders, Mandy taking the prize at a riding contest at the State Fair, Salem, Oregon.