Edited by Aunt

MY BOOK OF REMEMBRANCE I Hiram Cornelius Powell, am a son of Silas Powell, who was a son of Joab Powell, the great Missouri Baptist preacher. Grandfather Joab was a son of Joseph Powell, one of the first settlers of East Tennessee. He [Joab] was born in Campbell County, on or in the year 1800. He and his wife had fourteen children born to them; ten boys and four girls. Originally the Powells came from Virginia to Tennessee. About the year 1833 they moved to Cass County Missouri. My father, Silas Powell, married Harriet Rice, December 18, 1845. They were married by William Owsley, a Baptist Clergyman, in Cass County, Missouri. There was born to them, while in Missouri, a son named David Crocket Powell, in the year 1847, July 22nd; and also in the year 1849 a daughter Sarah Elizabeth. In the year 1850, the Government offered a married couple six hundred and forty acres of land, as an inducement towards settling up Oregon and California. So in that year Father and Mother with a numerous host of other relatives, joined a train that was drawn by Ox teams, to cross the plains to Oregon. It was in this way that my forefathers begun their long trip across roadless plains, deserts and snowy mountains, to their new home in the West. Of the relatives that came across the year 1850 on Mother's side of the family, were her father, Charles Rice, my grandfather. He was born December 5, 1797 in Tennessee. He married Sarah Lett, lived on the Clinch River, about the year 1825 or 1826. They moved to Missouri about 1833, and Grandfather Rice with all his family that were alive, moved to Oregon in the year 1850. Grandmother Rice died about the year 1845, leaving an infant son, Charley Rice. My mother Harriet Powell, his sister, raised this said Charley Rice. Grandmother Rice's children were: Harriet Rice, Freadlen Rice, James Norvel Rice, George F. Rice (died in Missouri), Francis M. Rice, Elizabeth Jane Rice, Rebecca Rice, Chas. William Rice. These folks with numerous others crossed the plains in the year 1850. There was also one known as Big Frank Rice, whose father had died in Missouri, and his Mother and a sister died on the plains. He, Frank Rice, was a full cousin to my Mother's father, Charley Rice. I have seen Frank quite often; stayed with he and his family quite often in the year 1881 and 1882 in Oregon. I went to school at McMinville, Oregon those two winters. Cousin Frank raised a large family, I think all boys, except one. I saw one of the boys, his name was Frank too. This was in Providence during the year 1930. Had not seen him for 48 years. The train had a long hard pull across that great stretch of wilderness from Missouri to Oregon. No one can tell of the hardships. They were tired, hungry, sore-footed, blue and discouraged, also sickness and death. It was some trial to have some loved one to sicken and die and be buried, and then have to pass and leave their lonely grave. There were lots of hard work to do and standing guard at night. Roads to make, rivers to cross, where they would tie logs on the side of their wagons to help float them across the rivers. Wagons to fix, such as setting tires, mending broken tongues. Ox yokes to be made or repaired. I have heard the old folks say in those days, they did not have very good brakes on their wagons and the roads or trails were steep, rough and crooked and sometimes they would come to a steep mountain, and in order to start down the other side they would cut trees and tie on the back of their wagons and drag them behind, until there was not room to pile them at the bottom. I have heard my mother say on the plains for days they could not find any wood to cook with, they would have to pick up buffalo chips to cook with. Some places they would come to poison water, which if the stock drank, it would kill them. The train had lots and lots of stock that they brought across and some of it was good stuff. Big Durham and other good breeds. Sometimes the train would stick to a good place to camp and lay over for a few days, or a week to let the stock rest up. Probably some good meadow, and then there was lots of work to do, mending of all kinds. Probably it would be in a good hunting ground and the hunters would bag a lot of game. My grandfather Rice was sick abed when they started and before they were out a month he was out walking and he walked most of the way across the plains; in fact he was a great walker. I can remember seeing him walking to church when I was a child in Oregon. This train came down the Snake River into the Columbia by the Daals, down the Columbia to Portland, then up the Williamette River into the Williamette Valley. Our people located near Brownsville on the Calapooe River. Father located on the Calapooe River, two and a half miles west of Brownsville. The river ran right through the place. On the North of the river it was rolling hills and on the South the land was level and along the river there was lots of timber. All kinds of timber, oak and the best in the world of pine, fir, ash, maple, yew, (that the Indians made their bows out of), vine maple, cherry, crab apple, also hazel nuts and lost of wild strawberries on the hills and in the valleys. Bee-trees, pheasants, grouse, deer, ducks and wild geese. In fact it was the Promised Land! My father went to work to improve the land. He landed there in the fall of 1850. There was two children at that time, Dave and Elizabeth both born in Missouri, as I have already mentioned. Mary Ann was born June 26, 1851, John Daniel, May 1853, Arminty Jane, June 5, 1855, Emma Caroline, June 3, 1857, Theodocia Earnest, September 4, 1859, Hiram Cornelius, January 8, 1861, Charles Joab, April 18, 1864, Nancy Laura, March 26, 1866 and Olive Harriet, April 7, 1868. Now for a few years of the early period after the folks landed and took their land, I don't know what happened, and there is no one of whom to inquire. But when I became older and can remember, that being a period of about 15 years from the time the folks located there, they must have been very busy. For as far back as I can remember, father was building an addition onto the house and it seemed to me at that time it was some addition. It was called the new house, two story, double fire place, one in the new portion and one in the old, but both using one chimney. What they called the new barn was built before I can remember. It was about 90 feet long, and the whole width about 40 feet, sheds included in this 40 feet. The sheds were about 12 feet wide and a loft for hay. There was a very large wood-shed and apple house combined and a wagon-shed on one side. I remember a smoke house where father and mother used to make smoked bacon. I can remember father having a hog killing; killing from 15 to 20 head. The neighbors would come and help. They would have lots of fun, and work hard. Mother would make soap by the barrel; making her own lye; having her ash hopper to make the lye in. They then fenced the whole ranch with rail-fence, or worm fence, and crossed fenced. Father had added 180 more to his 640, so now it was 820 acres and a good place. Father had also put out an orchard, 8 to 10 acres and oh my, the good fruit that did grow there, it would make a horse leave his oats! So you see the folks were busy all the time. Now these things were built up before I could remember. One thing I do remember was the death of my sister Arminta.1 I remember the folks putting her in the coffin, and I also remember one awfully cold snowy winter, father making a big sled to haul hay out to the stock and to haul wood on. One time he came home that winter riding on the sled and was sitting on a box, and when he stopped to unhitch the horses, he told me to turn the box over, and out jumped a pig, black as coal. My how it scared me. My brother Dave by this time began to be a young man, could do a man's work and he was a very handy man all around. He and I were always great pals. He was a great hunter and there was lots of game of all kinds. He got his share. He used to take me along, so I learnt a great deal about how to hunt; how to find the game and how to crawl up on it when we found it. He always hunted with an old muzzle loading rifle. It shot straight. I killed my first coon with it that cold snowy winter. It must have been about 1865 he went out and found what he thought was a coon tree, but when he cut it down, it proved to be a bee tree; the loads of honey he got out of it; all the wash- tubs and buckets were full.

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