PIONEER LIFE IN PUYALLUP.

This account of pioneer life in the Puyallup would be incomplete without looking closer into their manner of living. The cabins were built under stress for immediate shelter, and so lacked completeness that otherwise would not have been had the builders had more time. All the early built cabins were of logs, rudely constructed, small, and without floors. Indeed, no lumber could at the time be obtained, and the pioneers did the best they could. Most of these cabins were burned during the Indian war. I will describe one built after the war that I am more familiar with than any other, as it became my home for twenty-four years and the remnants of which are still preserved in Pioneer Park, Puyallup. Jerry Stilly took a squatter's right on the quarter section of land that afterwards became my homestead and built the first section, or room, to which I afterwards added. Stilly did not succeed in raising much of a crop, in fact did not stay long enough, but he did succeed in after life in raising a crop of ten children, all yet living I think in the State, but never succeeded in gathering much of the world's goods around him. In fact he moved too often to do so, but he did enrich his mind, drawn from the best store of literature. He was a dear lover of Shakespeare and a close student of the Bible. Gibbon also was one of his favorite authors. He could repeat almost verbatim the twentieth and twenty-first chapters of the "Decline and Fall," not that he had memorized it, but had grasped the whole meaning from repeated readings of that wonderfully comprehensive work. Stilly was a typical pioneer, made no pretension in dress, seldom went to church, but was exemplary in his habits, though inclined toward pessimism in his later life. The cabin that Stilly built was of inch board walls, eight feet high and sixteen feet square and covered with clapboard, or "shakes" as many designate them. Soon after coming into possession of the claim I built another of same dimensions, leaving a space of five feet between the two for a double fireplace and chimney. These fireplaces became a source of great comfort for many a long winter evening, furnishing both warmth and light. They were built of float lava rock that had been belched from the throat of the great mountain (Ranier) and brought to the lower level by the avalanches and later the mighty floods that had inundated the valley ages ago. They were so light in weight that an ordinary farm wagon box full was not a heavy load and so soft they could be shaped with an ordinary chopping ax without injuring, except dulling the sharp edge just a little. To have fireplaces with smooth faced stones, and a chimney that did not "smoke" seemed to be the very acme of elegance and comfort. The inside of the cabin was first covered with newspapers and a little later with real wall paper for warmth, and appearance as well, and really we felt as proud of the cabin home, "our home", as we afterwards did of the more pretentious homestead described elsewhere. An ivy vine [29] planted next to the entry way between the two cabins, now nearly fifty years old, which yet marks the spot, soon climbed to the top of the roof and spread out, assuming the shape of the roof, ferreting out all niches and cracks, and finally invaded the sitting-room of the cabin as a cheerful reminder of what was above our heads. The last time I measured the main stalk at the ground it was found to be nine inches in diameter; overhead, what used to be in the loft, there are now main branches as big as a man's arm with the whole surface covered with a beautiful bright green mass of foliage.

In course of time the land upon which the cabin stood was dedicated by my wife and myself as Pioneer Park, Puyallup, and given over to the care of the city. The cabin walls in the lapse of years weakened and the roof fell in. Temporary props held the remnants of the ceiling in place, which in turn supported the over-spreading vine. Finally the ladies of the now grown up little city of six thousand people took a hand, placed six heavy cement columns to support overhead cement joists to in turn support the ivy vine.

A cement floor, a drinking fountain in the center of the cabin floor, the ivy bower, and a few cement seats attest the faithful efforts those lovers of the almost forgotten past have made to preserve in perpetuity the identity of the spot where the first cabin of the now pretentious city was built. The last vestige of the old decaying walls were removed and placed overhead, but under the ivy vine, where in the lapse of years the roots of the vine that have taken firm hold of the decaying relics will absorb and transmit not only the memory of the cabin for all time to come, but the very substance of the cabin will be transformed into a new life of everlasting green.

A stone tablet inscribed "Site of Ezra Meeker's Cabin Home," completes the record to be read by the many generations to follow.

Just who is the person that first conceived the idea to erect this memorial is unknown to the author. The organization known as the Puyallup Ladies' Club assumed the responsibility and carried the work to completion. A letter from the President reached me at Elm Creek, Neb., while on the last drive with the ox team homeward bound, informing me of the arrangement for dedicating the tablet and requesting if possible to be present and "make a short address." This was the first information I had of the contemplated work. I could not possibly leave my work on the Oregon Trail in time to reach home and be present, so I bethought myself to be present in spoken words and voice even if I could not be in person. My address was spoken into the wonderful "thing of life," shall I call it? No, not of life, "the spirit of life," that is named the "phonograph", that recorded the very tones of my voice that would be familiar to my friends at home, although at the time these words would be reproduced I would be nearly two thousand miles distant, climbing up the eastern slope of the Rocky Mountains, or more accurately speaking on the summit and above the clouds of the midsummer day. The records of the address reached the hands of the ladies in due time, when lo and behold, instead of a few friends as anticipated more than a thousand came to see and listen, and as all could not hear, the address was read in full after a part had been reproduced from the phonograph. As a part of the history of the cabin and of pioneer life it is here reproduced for the greater audience, the readers of this volume:

The song sung by Mrs. Montgomery was written to the tune of "Home, Sweet Home." The words, composed by Mrs. Mills, were: