On the thirtieth day of the month they reached Oregon City, and were royally welcomed by Dr. John McLoughlin,—the renowned, revered, and idolized hero of Old Oregon.
XXXII LETTERS FROM HOME
OREGON CITY, in the autumn of 1852 and for more than a decade thereafter, consisted chiefly of a single narrow street bordering the Willamette River and lying under the sheer bluffs of lichenclad basaltic rock that overlook the Falls of the Willamette, valued at that time only as a fishing site for the wily Indian and a strenuous leaping-place for schools of salmon. But future enterprise was destined to utilize the stupendous water-power for the convenience of man in the city of Portland, a dozen miles below. In this one narrow street the Ranger company halted to read letters from the States. These letters, many of them now nearly six months old, brought to them the first tidings from the old home. The latest was dated August i, and was from Grandfather Ranger, announcing the transition of "Grannie," the beloved great-grandmother, whose demise was described with much detail:—
'* She was in usual health up to the last day of her sojourn in the body," he wrote, "and retained her faculties to the last. She had walked to Lijah's and back during the day, with no companion but Rover, who deemed her his especial charge from the time he took up his abode with us. But she complained of being tired on her return, and ate less dinner than usual. While your mother and I were sitting at the table, we heard a peculiar gasp and gurgle from Grannie's chair in the next room, and
