The warning questions came thick and fast;
"Do you know that the British will colonize,
If you wait another year, Oregon
And the Northwest, thirty-six times the size
Of Massachusetts?" A courteous stare,
And the Government murmurs: "Ah, indeed!
Pray, why do you think that we should care?
With Indian arrows and mountain snow
Between us, we never can colonize
The wild Northwest from the East you know,
If you doubt it, why, we will let you read
The London Examiner; proofs enough
The Northwest is worth just a pinch of snuff."
And the Board of Missions that sent him out,
Gazed at the worn and weary man
With stern displeasure. "Pray, sir, who
Gave you orders to undertake
This journey hither, or to incur
Without due cause, such great expense
To the Board? Do you suppose we can
Overlook so grave an offense?
And the Indian converts? What about
The little flock, for whose precious sake
We sent you West? Can it be that you
Left them without a shepherd? Most
Extraordinary conduct, sir,
Thus to desert your chosen post."
Ah, well! What mattered it! He had dared
A hundred deaths, in his eager pride,
To bring to his Country at Washington
A message, for which, then, no one cared!
But Whitman could act as well as ride.
The United States must keep the Northwest.
He—whatever might say the rest—
Cared, and would colonize Oregon!
It was October, forty-two,
When the clattering hoof-beats died away
