Miners’ wages were then ten dollars per day; common laborers seven dollars. During the winter of 1865 eatables of all kinds were very dear, except meat, for game was plentiful; flour sold for one hundred and twenty-five dollars per one hundred pounds. “Then” my friend Charley Cannon was an humble baker, and was selling dried apple pies that were not sweetened, with crusts as thin as a wafer, for one dollar a piece. “Now” he is an honored and respected citizen and one of the wealthiest men in the state. “Now” Helena is a city of twelve thousand inhabitants and the capital of the state. The capitol building is in course of construction, and, when completed, will be one of the finest in the West. Where the log cabins stood, handsome business blocks and pleasant homes are everywhere visible.

Besides the Montana Central, which runs north and south and through Helena, the transcontinental line of the Northern Pacific connects the Atlantic and Pacific by extending east and west. Their freight and passenger depots are located on the old mining claims, where husky miners, in their overalls and flannel shirts, swung the picks and tossed the shovels with their brawny arms and contributed thousands of dollars to the world’s treasury. Today railroad conductors and other officials are skipping over the same ground in broad cloth, with pen and pencil behind ears that are braced up by high collars attached to boiled shirts.

And so it goes—the miner, the mechanic, the herdsman and plowman, the conductor, the railroad official and the man with the pencil, yes, the tie ballaster and the newsboy, all are linked in the endless chain of Western progress. And now a commerce is created which brings a revenue to our government amounting to millions of dollars annually, besides many millions more to the laborers and those who furnished the money to carry on these industries and enterprises that are continually developing and adding to the wealth of the nation.

Thus the wheel of progress has moved forward with tremendous speed since my first arrival in Helena in 1864 with the man who had the two “Jerusalem ponies.”

From Helena I went to Nelson gulch, where there were some very good diggings. The richest was that owned by the Maxwell & Rollins company, near the head of the gulch. In July, 1865, this company had a crew of ten men running a set of sluice boxes in very rich gravel. The man who used the fork to throw the stones which were too heavy for the water to carry out of the boxes, noticed that one small stone that he cast away was very heavy for its size. Wishing to know what kind of a stone it was, he went to the pile and examined it. To his astonishment it was a nugget of gold worth two thousand and seventy-three dollars. All hands quit work to see the big nugget, and the men on the adjoining claims came also to view it. Finally three cheers were given, and repeated several times until the echo went up and down the canyon. I was about a quarter of a mile down the creek at the time. Hearing the yelling, many thought that a serious accident had occurred. Soon the men came down the gulch with the big nugget suspended from the center of a pole, with the crowd following, and, as they marched down the gulch, everybody joined the mob: and when they reached the town which was near the lower end of the gulch where there were two stores and as many saloons, besides several miners’ cabins, the crowd numbered three hundred or more. From two to three hundred dollars was spent by the Maxwell & Rollins company in treating the boys. The nugget was pure gold with no quartz. It was the shape of a hand with the thumb turned under. In 1877 another nugget worth one thousand and fifty dollars was found in the same gulch by Mr. Rogers. The gold of the Nelson and Highland gulches is the purest of any ever found in Montana.

The largest nugget was found in Snow Shoe gulch in 1865, which weighed one hundred and seventy-eight ounces and was worth three thousand two hundred dollars; there was some quartz attached. This nugget was long in shape, more like a foot than a hand. Snow Shoe gulch is located on top of the main range of the rockies, and near the Mullen tunnel on the Northern Pacific railway.

Deitrick and Brother found a nugget on their claim in Rocker gulch in 1867 worth eighteen hundred dollars. Many other large nuggets were found in different gulches, but these were the largest. The placer gold varies in size from microscopic powder to the monster slugs spoken of, and in quality from 600 to 990 in fineness.

Several hundred bars and gulches were in operation in the years 1865–1866, and were producing thousands of dollars daily. Those mines extended through a region one hundred and twenty-five miles square. The greatest producer of all was Alder gulch, with thirteen miles of pay ground. It is estimated that from seventy to eighty-five million dollars have been taken out of this gulch. Last Chance ranks next. Many other gulches were as rich, but not so extensive. It is safe to say that Confederate gulch produced more gold from the same number of square yards and in less time than any other placer mine ever found in the state. In the summer of 1866 a party of men took out of this gulch two and one half tons of gold worth one and one half million dollars. Early in the fall of the same year it was hauled by a four-mule team, escorted by fourteen armed men, to Fort Benton for transportation down the Missouri river. Mr. Lindiman and Mr. Hieediman, the two men who were the owners of most of the gold, accompanied the outfit.

Robert Vaughn.

Dec. 18, 1898.

FROM THE MINES TO THE FARM.

I remained in Nelson gulch over three years; during this time I did some mining, afterwards kept a meat market.

I had not the least idea of establishing a home in Montana, and, in truth, the field was not, just then, an inviting one for the homeseeker. All of us then were seeking gold and nothing else. Nearly everyone had made up his mind as to the specific amount he wanted, after which he was ready to return to the states to enjoy the same. Many made fortunes and carried out precisely this programme, but others were not so successful—among the latter myself. I was not ready to return at the end of the first or second year. I observed, with others, that our ponies and work cattle fattened readily on weathered bunch grass, and would live on this provender through the winter without care or shelter; that the meat of the deer, elk and buffalo was in prime condition, even in the dead of winter; and that experiments on a small scale in growing vegetables and grain in the valleys were very successful, and that the climate of the country gave health and vigor to both man and beast. In view of these observations, I concluded that Montana was a good enough country for me to live in.

In the fall of 1869 I came to the Sun river valley and located a ranch on the north side of the river, nine miles down the valley from Sun River Crossing, and near the Leaving Stage Station (now Sunnyside), on the Helena and Benton road. I remember well when I made the entry in the land office at Helena, that the register said to me: “Well, Vaughn, this is the first entry made in Choteau county.”

A few weeks later Colonel Baker made a raid on the Indians on the Marias river. During the years 1867, 1868 and 1869 the Blackfeet and Piegan Indians caused a great deal of trouble by attacking freighters, killing settlers and stealing their horses. These outrages became so frequent that the war department finally decided that those bands of bloodthirsty Indians must be taught a severe lesson.

General Sheridan was in command of the military division of the Missouri, which embraced Montana. Direct telegraph communication existed between General Sheridan’s office and Fort Shaw. In December, 1869, all the minutiae of the campaign were worked out at the division headquarters, and the necessary details sent to the commanding officer at Fort Shaw. Cavalry from Fort Ellis and infantry from Fort Shaw were detailed for the expedition, and the forces were under the command of Colonel Baker of the Second cavalry, with Joe Kipp, Henry Martin and Joe Cobel as guides. Every effort was made to keep the destination of the troops secret. It was late at night when they marched to the point where the guides intended to take them. On account of frost in the air and a few inches of snow on the ground they had some difficulty in keeping the right course. Finally the command arrived at the bluffs overlooking the Marias river; the tepees of the enemy were hardly observable, but the scouts had located the Indian villages, and, before daylight, they were completely surrounded by the soldiers. At an early hour the firing commenced and before the bugle called a halt nearly two hundred Indians had joined their ancestors in their happy hunting grounds. Two soldiers were killed in this terrible battle. When the news reached the stations along the Helena and Benton road, there were a few who became alarmed for fear that retaliation would be made by the Indians. But they did not retaliate; the battle was the best thing that ever happened to Northern Montana at that time. For several years afterwards the Indians were very shy, although some roving war parties of different tribes would cross the country and kill people and steal horses and cattle.

William Sparks and myself were only farmers in Northern Montana for several years, although some farming had been done in Sun River valley as early as 1858, by my namesake, Colonel Vaughn, who built the first agency for the Blackfeet Indians, which was located on the north side of the Sun river, about one-half mile above the crossing, and was known as the “Government Farm.” Here is where Colonel Vaughn, as an experiment in behalf of the government, cultivated a number of acres of land, several acres of which were sowed in wheat. It proved to be a grand success. The colonel estimated that the wheat crop would average seventy-five bushels to the acre, and so reported to the department at Washington. A story is told on the colonel that, in addition to his agricultural report, he also reported that the beavers were so numerous that the wheat crop was in danger of being destroyed by them, and to send him immediately five hundred beaver traps. The traps were sent at once by the fastest express then in existence, and arrived at the “Government Farm” after the wheat was threshed and put in the granary. The traps were used during the following winter by trappers, as they were intended in the first place. It was a good joke on the officials at Washington, for who ever heard of a beaver eating wheat.

In 1861 Mr. Sam Ford settled and located two miles above where now stands Fort Shaw. In 1862, also, the following named people were living on the government farm: J. H. Vail and family, a sister of Mrs. Vail’s, Miss O’Brien (who, in 1863, married Henry Plummer, the only sheriff then in what is now Montana; but he was a traitor, for at the same time he was the leader of a gang of desperadoes, although unknown to the young lady).

The following is from a letter written by Judge F. M. Thompson of the probate court for Franklin county, Massachusetts, to a friend in this city:

“It would give me great pleasure to visit your city, the site of which I first saw June 5, 1863, under somewhat interesting circumstances. I was at that time stopping with my friends, Mr. and Mrs. Vail, at the ‘government farm’ on Sun river, awaiting the arrival at Fort Benton of the St. Louis steamers. Besides us at the farm were Joseph Swift, who had wintered there, my partner, Mr. C. E. Wheeler, Henry Plummer, Miss Electa O’Brien, two Vail children, and a hunter-herdsman. I quote from my diary: ‘June 5, 1863.—About 3 p. m., with Mr. and Mrs. Vail, Miss O’Brien and the two children in the government ambulance, and the remainder of the party on horseback, we left the stockade in charge of the hunter and started for the ‘Great Falls’ of the Missouri river. The Indians are very saucy and are cleaning out small parties of the whites, whom they can intimidate and steal from. We feel somewhat the risk we run in taking the women and children on the trip. Near sundown we had a scare, as Plummer, Wheeler and Swift in advance climbed the top of a knoll and suddenly stopping made signs of Indians, but, fortunately, the moving figures proved to be antelopes. Arriving at the lower falls after dark, we camped in a ravine, so that the light of our campfire might not be seen by the Indians. The next forenoon was spent in fishing and viewing the falls and building a large stone cairn, in which we deposited a paper claiming that the ladies of our party were the first to view the falls. (In this I think we were mistaken, as probably Mrs. La Barge and a friend visited the falls in the summer of 1862.) After dinner we started upon our return to the Fort, and, coming within sight of the farm, we found that the bottom was covered with a large number of Indian ponies grazing, under the charge of a guard.

Recognizing them as Spokanes, and friendly, we found a large party of their warriors visiting the farm. Finding that only one man was in possession, and he having locked the gates, they parleyed with him at the front, while some young bucks scaled the walls in the rear and took possession of the premises, compelling the hunter to cook from the stores of the station dinner for the whole crowd.

After a full discussion of the situation, by aid of the little ‘Chinook’ I had picked up, and a vigorous exhibition of sign language on our part, we finally persuaded the chief that it was best for him to ‘clatawaw,’ which he did much to our relief. (Clatawaw means go away.)

On the 20th of June, 1863, at Sun river, Henry Plummer and Miss Electa O’Brien were married by Rev. Father Minatre of the mission of St. Peter, Mr. Swift acting as best man, and, for the only time in my life, I acted as “bridesmaid.” The happy couple immediately left the farm in the government ambulance, to which were attached four green Indian ponies.

A few months later Henry Plummer had ended his career upon the gallows at Bannock.”

There was no farming done by those settlers except gardening on a small scale. In 1867 John Largent bought a cabin from a trader named Goff, and built another one near where now stands his fine residence. The same year Joe Healy built a cabin where now is H. B. Strong’s residence. Those two men were the first settlers of the town of Sun River.

In 1872 Ed Dennis, Hod Maine, James Strong and Charley Femeston farmed in Sun river valley. John Largent had then a store and blacksmith shop at Sun River Crossing; J. J. Healy and Al Hamilton kept a trading post on the north bank of the river, near the bridge. They had a large trade with the Indians.

In 1871 R. S. Ford and Thomas Dunn brought the first range cattle to the Sun River country, and, for that matter, to Northern Montana. They had 1,100 head. The following year O. H. and D. H. Churchill brought eight hundred head. These cattle were turned out on the range north of Sun River, between the Leaving and the falls of the Missouri river. The following winter thousands of buffaloes came from the north and we had to cross all domestic stock to the south side of the Sun river, and herd them, to some extent, to keep the buffaloes away. A few years later two brothers named Rock settled near the mouth of the Sun river and were engaged in chopping wood. Near where now stands the Montana Brewery plant was an empty cabin which had been built by hunters (the same cabin, which is made of logs, has been removed and now stands half a mile southwest of its first location, and is the property of the Great Northern Railway company). One morning, as one of the brothers was going to his work, twelve Indians, who had been secreted in the old cabin, rushed out and murdered him. The other brother was on the opposite side of the river, the present site of the city of Great Falls, and saw the Indians perpetrate this cold-blooded murder, but could render no assistance. After shooting him, they all made a rush to see which one would get there first to secure his scalp. Just then the brother, who was across the river, fired several shots. This scared the Indians and they fled before reaching their victim, who was killed instantly by eleven bullets, ten through the body and one in the head. “Scalping” is a cruel practice that these savages commit after capturing an enemy. They take off the crown of the head; sometimes they do this first and the killing afterwards. They preserve the scalp, and the one who has the greatest number to his credit is considered the bravest and is promoted in his tribe, and often obtains the chief’s daughter in marriage. It was not long after the killing of Rock that an Indian, while in the act of skinning a young domestic cow, was shot by one of the settlers. At this point on the Missouri river, where now stands the railroad bridge, there was a good ford. Here the Flatheads, Pend d’Oreilles, Nez Perces, Bloods, Piegans and Black feet crossed to get to the Judith and the Musselshell country en route to their winter hunting grounds; returning in the spring laden with dried meats, buffalo robes and pemmican. It was also a lurking place for the Blackfeet warriors when on their way to steal horses from the Crows. In returning the Crows would follow them up and commit all sorts of depredations upon the settlers along the line of their forays. As the buffaloes were getting scarce and more cattle were being put on the range the Indians became more troublesome by killing cattle. Once, as a party of Sun River settlers were crossing the country, they met eight young warriors on foot and among the cattle. They were on a horse-stealing expedition and well equipped with lariats and guns. The settlers, all well armed and mounted, made a swoop on the Indians and rounded them up. They took their arms and marched them out about five miles on the prairie towards the agency; then they gave back their guns and released them, telling them to make quick tracks for the reservation. As the Indians expected to be shot, they lost no time in getting away. This put a quietus on their cattle killing, and from that time they became more peaceable.

As more mines were discovered and operated, the population of the territory rapidly increased. The traffic on the Helena and Benton road was very great during the boating season on the upper Missouri, and before there was a railroad nearer than Ogden, Utah, consequently more settlers came into the valley. There were twelve locations between the Sun River Crossing and The Leaving. We joined together and constructed an irrigation ditch. We succeeded in growing a large crop of oats, wheat and barley; as high as eighty to one hundred bushels to an acre were raised by the writer and others. Also the largest and finest crops of potatoes I ever saw were raised there.

Now the Sun river valley and its tributaries have developed into some of the most extensive and wealthy settlements in the state. It has several towns with populations ranging from one hundred to thirteen thousand, having schools, churches, railroads, telegraph and telephone lines, flouring mills, refineries and smelters, electric lights and power and many public works.

The once hostile Indians have been subdued and are now on their reservations cultivating the soil by following the plow, running the mower and self-binder, raising horses, sheep and cattle, and are fast becoming civilized. Fort Shaw military post has become an Indian school. The parade ground, where the soldiers used to drill and prepare for Indian wars, is now used for picnic grounds and for the young Indian students to hold their Fourth of July celebrations.

Robert Vaughn.

Jan. 29, 1898.

A LETTER TO MY LITTLE BABE.

My Darling Little Babe—Your mother died January 13, 1888, when you were but thirteen days old. Today you are seven weeks old. Your tongue and communicative powers are tied with the tie of infancy. You can’t tell papa how dear mamma was loved and how sweet her last kiss was. You can’t tell papa that mamma said, “Take good care of darling babe,” and how she embraced you to her bosom and blessed you for the last time. Neither can you comprehend papa telling you how happy papa and mamma lived together. You are now sleeping in the cradle, and I am sitting alone by your side thinking of your dear mother and how she loved you before you were born, and the pleasure she had when making your little clothes during the last four months, before she was confined to her bed.

But she has gone to that land where rivers flow over golden sands; where pearls and many a gem deck the shores. Last night as I was mourning over her and thinking of her loving companionship and her kind words, a still voice came to me saying: “Tell our darling babe that we lived happy.” This set me to thinking that I may have passed through the “valley” before you will be old enough for me to tell you this happy tale. But, by the grace of God, I comfort myself with the hope that you and I will be companions to each other for many years to come, and that I will have the pleasure of listening to you reading me this letter which I am now writing. God bless you, sweet angel!

Your dear mother was born near Toronto, Canada, March 19, 1855. She was the daughter of Matthew and Jane Donahue. We were married August 25, 1886, at the home of Uncle and Aunt Spencer (where also she made her home), by Rev. J. H. Little. The same morning we left for Helena. We arrived there next day. It was fair week. We remained five days and met many friends. Here we had our photos taken and purchased our household goods—the organ, sewing machine, etc. And this is the time I had her ring made out of a nugget of gold I had taken from the mines twenty years before. We came home happy and went to work and organized our little home, and in about three weeks we had it—to us, a little palace. And oh! such a welcome she always gave me when I came home! What a heart she had! So large and pure, so kind and womanly! She always kept everything so neat and nice. She made me love home and gave me new thought—how very little happiness depends upon money. Often in the still hour of the evening we would stroll away through the meadows, sometimes down along the banks of Sun river, and carelessly hold each other’s hands. She walked closely at my side, telling me some sweet words and sometimes rhymes, and often we sang some favorite hymn. And now it seems to me how beautiful those happy days were. They are like dreams.

Your dear mother was always pleasant. I never left the house to be away all day without her giving me a kiss before I left, and she never failed to meet me at the door to give me a kiss and a welcome on my return. We truly loved each other. No wedded couple ever lived happier. Whatever I would do she always thought was done right, and whatever she would do I could not improve. It was impossible. Anything in the house, if it was moved from the place she had for it, I could preceive it at once. Even a picture on the wall could not be moved anywhere else to look as well as the place she already had selected for it. She was a perfect mechanic. She was genial. She was gentle and polite in her manners. A more faithful partner never lived. A more true, affectionate wife and more loving mother never existed. Your dear mother was a Christian. She lived and died as such. The first time we met in our little chamber to go to rest for the first night together, your dear mother knelt by the bedside and prayed to God to give us grace and bless us as we started on the voyage of life together. She asked Him to give us grace to live a happy life, to live so we could die happy. And many, many times I have thought of her prayers during our happy life, and of her sweet words, “Tell the folks I die happy.” From that time until she went to her final rest she always prayed before she retired at night. Also in the morning she kneeled before the Throne of Grace and thanked the Lord for his loving kindness. She always had her bible on the dresser or on the table in our bed room and perused it with care. She said one day: “If we can’t attend church regularly in this country, we can be good by prayer to God and read our bible regularly.” And her motto, in her own handiwork, is now over our bed-room door, chosen by herself years ago. It is this:

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
*         Simply          *
*  To Thy Cross I Cling.  *
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

She illustrated on her death bed how this beautiful motto was engraved on her heart, for among her last sayings was: “Blessed be the Saviour who died on the cross, and I cling to that cross.” Oh, what a treasure she was! Our short life together was but a holiday, and a happy one. And here now, I ask you, my dear babe, let your creed be the bible and your example your dear mother. If your father is not with you, ask some one to teach you to pray when you are young, for He said: “I love them that love me, and they that seek me early shall find me.” “The same God who moulded the sun and kindled the stars watches the flight of an insect. He who balances the clouds and hung the worlds upon nothing notices the fall of a sparrow. He who gives Saturn his rings and placed the moon like a ball of silver in the broad arch of the heaven, who gives the rose leaf its delicate tint and makes the distant sun to nourish the violet, the same being notices the praises of the cherubim and the prayers of a little child.”

It is He who is the father of the orphan; He whom your dear mother placed her trust in and who comforted her through life and death.

The following is her testimony on her death bed of a happy life ending in a happy death. She said to your sorrowful father: “My dear, do not let this worry you. Trust in the Lord and he will support you. I have trusted in Christ through all my life; now I trust in Him and He comforts me, for the Lord doeth all things well. I am ready to meet Him. I am ready to die. Take good care of our darling babe and tell her that we lived happy. God bless the little angel. It seems hard to us that we must part after living but a little while together, but it is God’s will; it is well. Do not be sad! be happy. The ring you made for me in Helena I will take to the grave with me. Call my loved ones to my side and let me kiss them and bid them good bye. Tell the folks I die happy. Blessed be the Saviour who died on the cross. Oh Lord! I am ready—take me, Oh Lord! Take me at midnight or in the dawning of the morning. Dear Lord, take me. Let me go home in peace. The valley is lighter. I see the great white throne. I want to go home.” She frequently said: “I want to go home” or “Take me home,” during her last hours on earth. Thus your dear mother passed away in peace, prepared to meet the God in whom she had placed her trust. I imagined hearing the soft wings of the angels fluttering in the room when they came to take her home and their soft whisperings saying: “She is dying happy. She is clinging to the cross;” then a voice: “Open the gates of heaven; she is coming home.” Her remains are sheltered safe from sorrow in the cemetery at Great Falls. Dear is the spot where she sleeps. “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me.”

Now, my dear little daughter, I am about to close this joy-mingled-with-grief letter, hoping that you and I will be loving companions to each other to scatter flowers over your dear mother’s grave for many decoration days to come.

The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you. May He be your guide. Put your trust in Him. And that He will comfort you in life and in death is the prayer of your affectionate father,

Robert Vaughn.

P. S.—This letter and your mother’s jewels, which she willed to you, I will deposit in the First National Bank of Great Falls for safe keeping for you.

R. V.

Sun River, Mont., Feb. 18, 1888.

FROM THE FARM TO THE CITY OF GREAT FALLS.

In the year 1889, after meeting with my great loss in the death of my wife, I sold my farm in the Sun river valley and came to Great Falls, and built the “Arvon Block,” and the “Vaughn Building,” in which I now live, in rooms fifteen and sixteen, with my dear little ten-year-old daughter. Like the man who chased his shadow, I have chased myself from place to place for the period of sixty-one years, and for the distance of six thousand miles, and at last have caught up with myself. Now it is in order to give a sketch of my first visit to this spot where I now reside. It was in the winter of 1870, and it was rather a cold day, when, mounted on my gray mustang and looking down from the summit of the hill on the west side, where now stands the residence of Hon. T. E. Collins, I first saw the beautiful landscape, the site of the city of Great Falls. As I bent in my saddle to view the panorama before me, I longed to be an artist, that I might portray it. It was a picture that I shall never forget. On the south side of Sun river lay an Indian village, two tepees were on the north side, and one on Indian hill. The latter, I was afterwards told, sheltered a lookout who watched for the approach of an enemy and to observe in what direction the buffalo herds were moving. On Prospect Hill was a band of antelope, and through the low divide, west of J. P. Lewis’, a herd of buffalo were slowly moving in single file towards the river. In the grove some of these monarchs were rubbing against the trees, and, I should judge, were enjoying themselves immensely. Further east, on what is now Boston Heights, several hundred more were feeding on the grasses of the bench lands. While viewing the open plains, stretching on to where the Highwood and Little Belt ranges rose, covered with the first fall of snow, the winding rivers, the confluence of the Sun and the Missouri, following the latter in its course until lost to view between high bluffs, I forgot all save the scene before me, hearing only the roaring of the waters as they rushed over the Missouri falls further down the river. Just then I saw an Indian about half way between myself and the two tepees; he was on foot and coming towards me. As I had not lost any Indians, I put the spurs to my horse and headed for home. When I had gone about a mile I looked back and saw the Indian standing where I had been but a few minutes before. Today I once more looked down from the summit of the same hill, but what a changed picture was spread before me! The plains that were “then” dotted with buffaloes are “now” covered with pleasant homes and imposing business blocks. Where was once an Indian village, today the stock farm of Hon. Paris Gibson is located. The two tepees are replaced by The American Brewing and Malting company’s plant, and at the foot of Prospect Hill, where the antelopes were, a water plant for a city of fifteen thousand inhabitants is in full operation. On the commanding bluff, “then” occupied by the lookout tepee, “now” the lofty smokestack of the Boston and Montana copper smelter stands in bold relief against the blue background of the sky, a landmark for hundreds of settlers for many miles around. The Missouri river is spanned by several steel bridges which carriages and locomotives cross at will. The buffalo trails have given place to electric railways, and the grove, where these shaggy-looking animals used to rub their coats, is now a beautiful park echoing with children’s laughter. But the greatest change of all has been wrought at the falls of the Missouri. Its mighty voice “then” paramount, “now” has been overpowered and well nigh silenced by the humming of dynamos and the sound of the great ore crushers as they labor on day and night, the slaves of the white man’s civilization. A brief sketch of these falls is proper at this time. The falls of the Missouri river were first made known in 1805. Thomas Jefferson, the third president of the United States, was a leading figure in the purchase of Louisiana, which embraced the country west of the Mississippi from its mouth north to the forty-ninth parallel at the Lake of the Woods. The forty-ninth parallel constituted the northern boundary to the Rocky mountains; the western line was the summit of the Rockies to the Arkansas river, to the one-hundredth meridian, thence south to the Red river, thence down that river to the ninety-fourth meridian, thence southerly along that meridian to the Sabin river, thence down the Sabin river to the Gulf of Mexico.

In 1803 Jefferson sent a message to congress, asking for an appropriation of $2,500 for the exploration of the Missouri and Columbia rivers. The result was that the amount was granted. Lewis and Clark were chosen to take charge of the expedition.

The expedition spent the winter of 1803–1804 near the mouth of the Missouri river. The Northwest was then a wilderness. The expedition ascended the Missouri river to Fort Mandan north of Bismarck, where they laid over during the winter of 1804–1805. Their means of transport were several rowboats. July, 1805, they arrived at the falls of the Missouri river, where they spent two weeks surveying and making a portage. Lewis and Clark were the first white men who visited the falls of the Missouri river, or at least they were the first to make its existence known to the world.

The lower falls, known, as the Great Falls, is a perpendicular fall of about ninety feet. The river at this point is estimated to contain a volume of water about three times greater than that of the Ohio at Pittsburg. This immense volume is here confined between rocky walls on either side, from two hundred to five hundred feet in height and about three hundred yards in width. Next to the right bank nearly half the stream descends vertically with such terrific force as to send continuous and always beautiful clouds of spray sometimes two hundred feet or more in the air. The other side of the river is precipitated over successive ledges of from ten to twenty feet, forming a magnificent view some two hundred yards in breadth and ninety feet in perpendicular elevation. A vast basin of surging, foaming waters succeeds below, its deep green color and commotion betraying a prodigious volume and depth.

Five miles above are the Crooked and Rainbow Falls, the latter fifty feet in perpendicular descent. Here the entire river, one thousand two hundred feet wide, hurls itself over an unbroken rocky rim, as regular in its outline as a work of art, into a vast rock-bound amphitheater, where when the sun is shining a rainbow spans the river from bank to bank. This with the sprays, the roar and commotion of the water make a fascinating scene. From this rainbow the falls received its name.

Another two miles up the stream is the Black Eagle Falls. Here the entire river takes a vertical plunge of twenty-six feet. On an island, and just below this falls, there formerly was a large cottonwood tree, in the branches of which a black eagle had built its nest. It is from this that the Black Eagle Falls received its name.

The river where these falls are located flows through a grand natural canyon, where in its ceaseless flow, has cut a path for itself through the rock of the plains, sometimes to a depth of five hundred and fifty feet. The series of falls and cascades add a wild beauty to the scene.

In no place has there been found so great a water power. Within a distance of ten miles, including falls and cataracts, there is a descent of five hundred and twelve feet.

Robert Vaughn.

June 27th, 1899.

MONTANA’S PIONEERS.

Who were the pioneers of Montana? They were the brave men and noble women who came here first; they were descendants of many countries, and were the most courageous of the nations from which they came. They were the heroes who rescued this beautiful mountain land from the hands of the savages and laid the foundation and moulded the destiny of this great state.

The cut-throats, robbers and murderers who were here in the early days were not worthy of being called pioneers, for they made a desperate effort to demolish what the real pioneers were building up. To expose their kind, I will refer to two of this class who were hung at Virginia City in the presence of several hundred citizens. They belonged to a gang of highwaymen and murderers. Each stood on a separate box with a rope around his neck, which was attached to a crossbeam, and, while in this position, one was using the most profane language and cursing every one present; just then a friend of the victim whom he had robbed and killed shoved the box from under his feet; while this one was dangling in the air the other one looked at him, and with an oath said: “Kick away old boy, I will be in hell with you in a minute,” then jumped off the box himself and into eternity. Though these men were human beings, the wicked and vicious habits they had contracted had destroyed all the humanity they possessed. Now, in consequence, nothing was left of them but the brute, for they neither feared God nor respected their fellowmen. Between those ruffians and the Indians the pioneer had his hands full. He had to work for himself, and at the same time he was ready at a moment’s notice to defend the right and his fellow-man with as much pluck and bravery as any soldier ever displayed.

Many think that most of the early settlers of Montana were of the rough element, but this impression is wrong. Most of the old pioneers were of the best law-abiding citizens that could be found in any country, men of culture as well as courage. Many of them afterwards helped to frame the constitution and the laws that govern the state at the present time (1899). Edgerton, her first governor, was here before the name “Montana” was thought of.

Ex-Governor S. T. Houser is now carrying a scar which he received at the time the James Stuart party, of which he was a member, had that terrible battle with the Indians on the Yellowstone in 1863. W. A. Clark, recently elected United States senator, and Ex-United States Senator Wilbur F. Sanders, and others who have already represented Montana in the halls of congress, also have worked in the prospector’s hole. Granville Stuart, who was appointed Envoy Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary to Paraguay and Uruguay in 1894, and served a term of four years, were here among the first comers. Nathaniel P. Langford (now of St. Paul, Minn.), the author of “Vigilante Days and Ways,” and who at one time was bank examiner for Montana, Idaho and Washington, was one of the first pioneers. Ex-Chief Justice W. Y. Pemberton was one of the pick and shovel brigade. Judge Knowles, Judge Hedges, and many others who are now holding high positions were with us. Judge Frank H. Woody is a Montana pioneer, for he came to what is now Montana in 1856, when the western portion of this state was a part of Washington Territory. Many of the leading lawyers that are now pleading at the bar of the state also have spoken in those “miner’s courts which were held in the open air.” Jack Fisk, Will H. and Robert N. Sutherlin and others who are to-day among the leading journalists of the state, were here before a single type was set. And there are scores of the veterans of early days, who, when the opportunity was given, have ranked themselves with the best business men of the state. When the roll is called of the self-made men of Montana, her pioneers will head the list.

And there were men who held divine services wherever the opportunity was given them; they were no cowards, either, for it took a pretty good man to fight the devil on his own half acre and whip him, too. I am glad to state that there are some of these old reverends “still in the ring.”

Peace be to the memory of those who have gone to receive their rewards for the good work they have done. With all respect to the Christian people, Catholics and Protestants alike, they did considerable for Montana in the early days and more than anyone knows, for a great deal of their work was done in the “Sacred chamber” without making any noise. I now recall two old prospectors who were up in the mountains searching for gold. After delving all day, they cooked and ate their supper, and then sat by the camp fire. One was telling about the dear ones at home, and that he was almost certain that they were thinking of him that very night. The other one spoke of his wife and three little children whom he had not seen for four years, but that he was writing to them constantly and he was receiving letters in return, and said he was in hopes of “striking it” soon and then he would go home. They sat up rather late that night; the moon had gone down, and the shade of the dark green pines made it still darker. It was in autumn when the leaves were falling. As the fire was getting low, they both went to bed side by side. It was a calm, still night; the rustling of the dead leaves that were strewn on the ground could be heard as some wild animal was passing their silent chamber, with occasionally the rumbling sound of a piece of rock which had broken loose from some distant cliff and went rolling down the mountain to the canyon below, re-echoed by the screeching of night birds, while the cataracts of many ripples swelled the midnight melody. Not a word was spoken for some time, each thinking that the other was asleep. But one began saying his evening prayers in a low, murmuring voice, which was as follows:

These things that I have mentioned indicate that there was much of the better element here in the early days, and also a great deal of intelligence among those who wore the buckskin shirt, and to them a large portion of the credit should be given that Montana is today one of the brightest gems in our star spangled banner.

Robert Vaughn.

March 4, 1899.