Two letters by Tallmadge B. Word, written from Oregon Territory in 1846 and 1847. See "Documents" of preceding number of The Quarterly for an account of the author:
Clatsop, Clatsop Co., Oregon Territory,
February 19, 1846.
Dear Brother: It was with pleasure I received yours of March 8, 1845; also one from Cyrel at the same time (Nov. last, 1845), and was happy to hear of general health, and that I am blest with the same, and have been ever since I have been in this territory; and, in fact, I have not had an hour's sickness for five years past. You ask me to give a sketch of my travels since I first arrived in Missouri. It is not possible for me to do so, with any degree of accuracy at present. Although I have a Journal of much of my trampings, it is now 200 miles distant, and I will not be able to get it before our mail starts for the U. S. I have also a daily journal of our journey to this country, and one of the weather for the first year I was here, which I sent you by the return party of 1845, but we have ascertained, that our letters were all lost, so I am aware you did not receive mine of '45, but hope it may not keep you from writing in the spring.
The Ship by which I intended to send you letters, was sold at the Sandwich Islands, and consequently did not return to the U. S. Now of my tramp: I will mearly say that I have ranged over nearly the whole country west of the Missouri River and east of the Rocky Mountains, from the British line on the north to the center of New Mexico on the south. The country is nearly of a sameness, quite a barren, sandy desert, with the exception of borders of streams, valleys, mountains, &c. The whole country abounds in game and Indians—the latter generally hostile. I could tell you of some long hunting yarns, and Indian fights, but they are of too little interest to spend time with now; so I will wait until I take a walk down East, and then some long evening, over a mug of cider and dish of apples, you shall have them.
I was some of the time in employ of Fur & Trading Co., and some of my time a free trapper. A hunter's life is a dog's life, exposed to all kinds of danger and hardships, and but little gained at last, but men soon get so accustomed to it that in a short time they fear neither man, musket, or the D——, and there is so much nature, romance, and excitement in their way of living, that they soon become much attached to it, for it is much easier for a white man to become an Indian, than to reverse the thing. I have been compelled to [by] hunger to eat mules, horses, dogs, wolves, badgers, ground hogs, skunks, frogs, crickets, ants, and have been without food of any kind for six days and nights. Cats, dogs, or anything else, is right good eating meat at such times.