Editor, Medford Sun:
    Sir--I was pleasantly remembered recently by a special invitation from my much esteemed neighbor and fellow townsman, Samuel Bateman, of North Maple Street, to accompany him for a day's rest, sightseeing and recreation to our sister city of Central Point, so we took tie-pass at 8 o'clock in the morning, leaving noisy, busy Medford behind for a day. We became interested in our walk from the start, as the day was warm and cheerful and the view delightful. My friend became at once infatuated with the sights and scenes through Rogue River Valley. They were so indescribably different from Montana, his former cold, bleak, fruitless home, and he also made it pretty interesting for me, pointing out the different towns and landmarks and their names that dotted the valley in the distance. We reached the city of Central Point at 10:30 o'clock fresh and game as a bantam rooster, found the city's streets full of farmers' teams, a very desirable class of citizens that gives life and activity and a pretty good indication that she is getting her share of the valley trade. Also the right impression to the visiting stranger.
    Central Point, centrally located as it is, is a trading center and in the midst of fruit, grain and alfalfa fields galore, now clothed and carpeted with much promise; with her clean streets, attractive business houses, residences and brick building in construction, certainly points to a city of much promise. Here, somewhat bewildered, while looking about me with the untold changes and developments of the old Rogue River Valley, I at once called to memory my first ride through this section in the fall of '76. Things moved pretty slowly and quietly in those pioneer, mossback days, with Jacksonville and Ashland as the only two trading points. Their supplies were furnished from Roseburg, consuming about two weeks' time by freight teams, with amusing scenes of balky horses, breakdowns and cuss words through Cow Creek Canyon.
    At that time old Rogue River Valley cultivated about one-quarter of its choice land. The balance was pastured, as stock raising was the principal industry. One wagon road then split the valley north and south, marked with stage stations and a cloud of dust from the overland coaches. One bridge, and it toll, spanned the Rogue at Rock Point. The court house, church and residences of Jacksonville and Ashland were principally wooden structures of the pioneer pattern, and the log residences and school houses dotted the country districts with the old worn rail fences. No party politics in those days. Every man who had any respect for his country or his yellow dog voted the straight Democratic ticket. Wheat was 40 cents a bushel, flour 50 and 75 cents a sack at the Phoenix and Eagle Point flouring mills, then run by water; hogs, cattle and sheep were a drug on the market. Ducks, quail and jackrabbits were as numerous as the stars and about as gentle as the barnyard chick. The circuit rider minister earned his salary of spuds, sorghum, flour and an occasional crazy quilt donated by some good Christian sister, for preaching the good old-time religion. But those were the good, old, happy, independent days when a man could kill his deer, catch his fish and dam the Rogue with salmon and fatten his hogs all without a license; also pay his 50 or 75 cents for the privilege of being put across Rogue River on Captain Bybee's ferry boat.
    But to my pioneer farmer, merchant and associates of thirty-five years ago that are still living, and we hope enjoying health, peace and contentment on the sunny side of life, what do we observe today spread out before us in this rapid life and activity? Can we realize the endless transformation of this grand old Rogue River Valley in this brief space of time that has unfolded to us such a charming, lovable valley, newly clothed with indescribable changes and improvements in every industry over the dear old Rogue Valley that is almost forgotten, save her history. The new valley is now before us, the envy and admiration of all Oregon, the most attractive spot on earth for the tourist to rest and recuperate and the homeseeker to cast his everlasting lot. Isn't it pleasant for us today to see and admire the new Rogue Valley with her eight thrifty incorporated cities and suburban towns galore that dot the new valley with unsurpassed beauty and with her three undreamed-of railroads, telegraph and telephone lines that traverse the most remote sections of the new valley, with three free bridges that span the broad, swift Rogue River and as far as the eye will permit us to see her countless acres of clean commercial fruit orchards, with productive farms without number that have been carved out of the once rough, uninviting tracts once considered worthless to the pioneer farmer, orchardist, and speculator that gave us the interesting history of the old Rogue River Valley while in its infancy.
    And now, patient, reader, is not the credit mostly due to the advent of the iron horse of the Southern Pacific Company, the new emigration of capital, custom and methods of industry that have so completely revolutionized the aged, decrepit Rogue River into this young, hopeful valley and gave to you, Mr. farmer, orchardist, stock raiser and speculator, a brighter and more promising future?
Medford Sun, May 12, 1911, page 5


    We find the following brief description of Southern Oregon in McCormick's Almanac for 1876, which, though not full enough by far, is tolerably accurate. Some gross errors concerning the names of officials and the statistics of the several counties occur, which have been corrected:
is situated in the southern portion of the state, being separated from California by the Siskiyou Mountains. It is watered by several streams, the most important being the Rogue River, which follows a tortuous course before emptying in the Pacific Ocean. The agricultural resources of the county are very large, and some of the finest farms in the state are spread over the western section. The principal grains and fruits requiring a sunny clime thrive admirably and yield abundantly. It is well adapted to stock raising, as there are extensive quantities of rolling uplands which produce grasses in luxuriance.
    County Officers.--Judge, E. B. Watson; Clerk, E. D. Foudray; Sheriff, J. W. Manning; Assessor, W. A. Childers; Treasurer, K. Kubli; School Superintendent, H. C. Fleming; Surveyor, James S. Howard; Commissioners, John O'Brien and M. A. Houston; Coroner, H. T. Inlow.
    Statistics.--Population, over 5,000; number of voters, 1,279; value of property, $1,968,940; acres of land under cultivation, 135,010. County seat, Jacksonville.
possesses an area of 2,500 square miles. It has a rugged aspect, but there are some fine valleys possessing a rich alluvial soil well adapted to grains and fruits. The mountainous character of the region, the luxuriance of grasses, and the abundance of timber makes it well adapted for grazing.
    County Officers.--Judge, M. F. Baldwin; Clerk, Chas. Hughes; Sheriff, Dan L. Green; Assessor, John Taylor; Treasurer, William Naucke; School Superintendent, J. M. Smith; Commissioners, J. Neely, S. Messenger.
    Statistics.--Population, 1,130; value of property, $375,010; number of voters, 326; acres of land under cultivation, 5,946. County seat, Kerbyville.
formerly formed a portion of Jackson and Wasco counties, but by act of Legislature passed in 1874 the new county was created. It is situated east of the Cascade Mountains, and possesses many attractive features. Its numerous lakes, from which it takes its name, are quite remarkable, one of them, Big Klamath, being 45 miles in length and navigable for vessels of considerable draught. These lakes form a favorite resort for myriads of waterfowl, and all of them, with one exception, abound in most excellent fish. The whole county has quite an elevation above the level of the sea, the altitude of the Klamath Lake basin, one of the lowest localities, being about 4,000 feet. Its topography is peculiar and picturesque, consisting of high mountains, broad valleys, placid lakes, winding streams and rolling hills. It is but sparsely populated at present, the principal settlements being in Klamath Lake basin, Langell's Valley, Drew's Valley, and the valleys of Lost River, Tule Lake, Sprague River, Chewaucan, Goose Lake, Crooked Creek, Summer Lake and Silver Lake. The climate is dry and healthful, warm in summer, cold and snowy in winter, the rainfall being very light during the entire year. The timber is confined chiefly to the mountains and foothills, and consists of pine, fir, cedar and juniper. The sublime climate of the county, its abundance of all kind of game, its wild and romantic scenery, and its valuable mineral springs make it alike attractive to the tourist, the sportsman, the invalid, and the weary emigrant seeking a home in the far West. Its chief industry is stock-raising, but the experience of the past year proves, however, that all the cereals and most of the fruits and vegetables of the temperate zone can be raised in great abundance. The thermal springs, one mile east of Linkville, have become quite celebrated of late for the cure of rheumatism, liver complaints, kidney infections and other diseases.
    County Officers.--Judge, E. C. Mason; Clerk, N. Stephenson; Sheriff, Thos. Mulholland; School Superintendent, Quincy A. Brooks; Commissioners, A. F. Snelling, J. P. Roberts; Assessor, G. C. Duncan; Treasurer, George Nurse.
    Statistics.--Population, 844; number of voters, 325; acres of land under cultivation, 1,057½. The area of the county is 11,400 square miles. County seat, Linkville.
Democratic Times, Jacksonville, January 28, 1876, page 1


    DEAR TIDINGS:--Were I to recount but half the hardships and perils encountered on my journey hither, I doubt not but I would elicit the tenderest sympathies of my readers. I might tell of wanderings to the source of Griffin's Creek, in search of the lost trail to Sterling Creek; how I clambered up the rocky steeps of many a brushy mountain gorge, leading my reluctant horse close at my heels; I might speak pathetically of streams of briny perspiration that trickled down my throbbing temples; I might add many conjectures as to the final result of my wanderings had I not fortunately fell in with a "chip" of Abraham Lincoln, manufacturing rails by the roadside, who reversed my line of travel and sent me back on my trail some two miles, and I succeeded in crossing the mountain in triumph, and passing down the classic waters of Sterling Creek and arriving at the once populous town of Sterlingville. I accepted the hospitalities of my old friend, Geo. Yaudes, and his pleasant lady for the night. I was much disappointed on arriving at Sterlingville to find that C. K. Klum, Esq., of Ashland, and Judge L. J. C. Duncan, of Jacksonville, had preceded me and, by some plausible stories, had succeeded in enticing almost the entire population into the mountains on a hunting excursion with them. I found, however, a few of the old-timers, and right well did I enjoy a talk over the days long agone.
were revived, and many a trivial incident which for twenty years had lain dormant were most vividly brought to wind. Old chums and partners were talked of, old diggings were discussed and the whole camp was reviewed from Sailor Gulch to Nigger Flat. By the way, Sterling diggings are not yet worked out. Several companies have very valuable diggings which will last a lifetime. The diggings of Claus Kleinhammer & Co., near the mouth of Sailor Diggings, paid well last winter for piping; this company have not yet finished cleaning up their last winter run. The members of the company are Claus Kleinhammer, Frank Town and S. Reynolds. The diggings of George Yaudes & Co. are situated on the old site of Sterlingville. This company has done a vast amount of work on their claim; it took over ten years to open the diggings. They commenced operations some fifteen years ago, and last winter was the first good run they have made. The result made, however, amends for many years of labor and disappointment, and ensures ample rewards in the future for their long years of toil. The members of this company are George Yaudes, Capt. Saltmarsh, Joseph Saltmarsh and our townsman C. K. Klum. My old friend and forty-niner, John Head, has charge of Rube Saltmarsh's interest. Mr. Saltmarsh has permanently located in Albany. The next claim below is that of Thomas Gilson, one of the '54 pioneers of Sterlingville. It is said to be a very
The next and last claim of importance, going down the creek, is that belonging to Reuben S. Armstrong, Tod Cameron and U. S. Hayden. This claim was worked last winter for the first time, and promises to be very rich; it is 40 feet deep and drained by a tunnel 200 yards long. The labor on this tunnel cost $1,200. With plenty of water again this winter these companies will take out a very large amount of money. The miners in this camp have all built them comfortable and, in some cases, elegant residences; they have their gardens and orchards, and some of them nice bands of cattle in the rich grassy hills that surround them. One of the most interesting items to me is the fact that everybody takes the Tidings. Those who cannot afford to subscribe borrow it from their neighbors. On next morning I mounted my good horse "Buck," and set out to visit my old
one-half mile distant. What a crowd of recollections galloped through my mind during that short visit; how vividly was portrayed the daydreams and air-castles, the hopes and fond expectations of my more youthful days spent in this old camp. Winding my way through a young forest of pines, which had grown since the days when the old camp swarmed with hundreds of confident miners, I came to the spot which spread out a feast of memories before me, and renewed many forgotten incidents of the past. Here indeed was once my home; from here I had viewed the future through a gold-tinted veil, with a pleasure that could never have been realized by the achievement of my most visionary hopes. My old cabin was gone--not a log was left in its old place. What little time had left had been pulled down by the ruthless hand of some modern miner for the sake of the golden treasure beneath its eight-by-ten site. A small heap of the half-rotten logs of my cabin that yet retained the imprint of the many gaps of the old "root ax" used in its construction lay nearby, with an occasional nail remaining, on which, doubtless, I had hung my gum boots and other apparel to dry, on returning from work at night. Few of
of the half hour spent in this, to me, almost sacred solitude will ever be recorded--being too evanescent in their rapid flight across my memory to be arrested by the lips or pen. I thought of the gold pan containing the result of our day's labor, the guessing at the amount, the weighing, the old tin "blower," the precautionary glances to see that no stranger was present as we drew the pin from the large auger hole in which our company purse was secreted. And then, of the hearty relish of our not varied, but ample meal, contained in the frying pan and camp kettle, which occupied the most conspicuous position on our table. Nor did I forget the bunk of fir boughs and blankets, where we enjoyed sleep in all its most natural sweetness. But I must stop--a volume would not contain the thoughts of a half hour with the past. I have in my mind's eye many old pioneers among the readers of the Tidings, who can supply the unwritten parts of the half hour spent at the old camp. Those days are forever gone, and with them more than one-half of those who enjoyed them. It is now, as then, that practicable present times and present interests are what we most desire to investigate, and I shall therefore, in my next, govern myself accordingly.
Ashland Tidings, October 28, 1876, page 1