376 W. D. FENTON. England in his great masterpiece, delivered on Plymouth Rock at the age of 38, December, 22, 1820, nearly eighty years ago. He there said: "We feel that we are on the spot where the first scene of our history was laid ; where the hearths and altars of New England were first placed ; where Christianity and civilization and letters made their first lodgment in a vast extent of country, covered with a wilderness and peopled by roving barbarians." Speaking of the pilgrims of the Mayflower, he said, "They came hither to a land from which they were never to return. Hither they had brought and here they were to fix the hopes, the attachments, and the objects of their lives." The words fitly describe the pioneers of Oregon. A cen- tury from now some future Webster, perhaps, in these sacred valleys, in some crowded forum, or some secluded spot, to generations yet unborn, may immortalize the deeds and achievements of these men and women, some of whom, bent with age, are still living. Their ranks are fast thinning, and in the course of nature, their race is nearly run. Let their honors rest upon them. We owe them more than we can ever repay. They were perhaps, many of them, unlettered men, unskilled in the arts of diplomac} 7 , untutored in the devious ways of craft, but they were men of courage, devotion, honor, and truthful- ness. Let us receive from them the blessings of a civil government, founded and defended by the bravest of Americans, and consecrated to liberty by their struggles, privations, and losses. Let us each year, as they become few upon earth and many on the other side, meet to commingle our words of praise, and add something to the glorious archives of the country. Turn backward the dial of time fifty years, and look upon this beautiful valley, these hills, verdant with nature, these skies perfect in a summer sun. or jeweled with a myriad of friendly stars! At that time there was no busy city, no mark or hand of
