in order to be with her sons and grandchildren that had removed to Oregon, she crossed the plains with an ox team, coming into Oregon by the Southern route, and suffering the extremity of dangers and trials on the trip. The experience of Mrs. Brown in her life and death struggle to reach Oregon will be good for the pupils of Pacific University to read while they are getting an education in the college she founded, surrounded by every comfort and convenience. The following statement is Mrs. Brown 's account in her own words:
"In 1843 one of her sons, Orus Brown, made the trip overland to Oregon, and returning to Missouri in 1845 induced his mother to start for Oregon in 1846. And with her son and daughter, and their families, they set out for this country, taking with them John Brown, an aged bi-other of her dead husband. Mrs. Brown was now sixty-six years of age. After reaching the head waters of Snake river her son, Orus, fearing they might run out of provisions, pushed on ahead of the party with a view of getting help and returning to meet the immigrants. And after his departure, she was prevailed upon, with others of the party, to follow the lead of an unknown guide who misled them into what is known as the southern Oregon route. And here they fell victims to the direst terrors of travel that ever beset any immigration to this country." In the year 1854, Mrs. Brown wrote out an account of that awful trip, Prom which the following has been taken:
"Winter had set in. We were yet a long distance from any white settlement. The word was 'fly, everyone that can, from starvation; except those who are compelled to stay by the cattle to recruit them for further travel.' Mr. Pringle insisted on my going ahead with Uncle John to try and save our lives. They were obliged to stay back a few days to recruit the cattle. They divided the last bit of bacon, of which I had three slices; I had also a cup full of tea. No bread. We saddled our horses and set off, not knowing that we should ever see each other again. Captain Brown was too old and feeble to render any assistance to me. I was obliged to ride ahead as a pilot, hoping to overtake four of five wagons that left camp the day before. Near sunset we came up with the families that had left that morning. They had nothing to eat, and their cattle had given out. We all camped in an oak grove for the night, and in the morning I divided my last morsel with them and left them to take care of themselves. I hurried Capt. Brown, so as to overtake the three wagons ahead. We passed beautiful mountains and valleys, saw but two Indians in the distance during the day. In the afternoon, Capt. Brown complained of sickness, and could only walk his horse at a distance behind. He had a swimming in his head, and a pain in his stomach. In two or three houre he became delirious and fell from his horse. I was afraid to jump down from my horse to assist him, as it was one that a woman had never ridden before. He tried to rise upon his feet but could not. I rode close to him and set the end of his cane, which I had in my hand, hard in the ground to help him up. I then urged him to walk a little. He tottered along a few yards and then gave out. I then saw a little sunken spot a few steps ahead and led his horse to it. and with much difficulty got him raised to the saddle. I then told him to hold fast to the horse's mane and I would lead by the bridle. Two miles ahead was another mountain to climb over. As we reached the foot of it he was able to take the bridle in his own hands and we passed over safely into a large valley, a wide, solitary place, but no wagons in sight.
