"There is no death! The stars go down
To rise upon some fairer shore;
And bright in heaven's jeweled crown
They shine forevermore.
For ever near, though unseen,
The dear immortal spirits tread;
For all the boundless universe
Is life—there is no dead."
"The sweet remembrance of the just
Shall flourish when he sleeps in dust."
As we contemplate the object and purpose of this gathering to-night, what memories crowd in upon us! The scenes, incidents and individuals of the past crowd in and haunt the vision and fill the minds of those in this presence who took part in the doings of early pioneer days in "Old Willamette," or those who had contemporaneous existence with those days in the "Oregon Country." I wish I might recall that past yet more vividly to your attention. I would like to hold before your eyes the old Chemeketa founded by the man whose dust lies in yonder Lee Mission Cemetery; the dwelling erected by him here when first he built a habitation in the "Land of the Sundown Seas."
"The shadows lie across the dim old room,
The firelight glows and fades into the gloom,
While mem'ry sails to childhood's distant shore,
And dreams, and dreams of days that are no more."
When Jason Lee came from the Eastern States to the "Oregon Country," in 1834, he came as a vigorous young preacher of the word of God, fired with enthusiasm in his mission and message to the native tribes of the Northwest, his ambition to Christianize and civilize them, and imbued with a lively conception of the magnitude and importance of this country and of his undertaking. Large and wholesome, mentally and physically, of distinguished lineage, and having been well educated and trained to
