"The patient endurance of these men and women for sublime pathos may challenge the world. Men were impoverished and women reduced to beggary and absolute want, and no weakling's murmur of complaint escaped their lips. It is true, when women saw their patient oxen or faithful horses fall by the roadside and die, they wept piteously, and men stood in all the 'silent manliness of grief' in the camp of their desolation, for the immigrants were men and women with hearts to feel and tears to flow." [Illustration: REV. H. H. SPALDING.] This, it will be observed, was a train upon the road ten years later than Dr. Whitman's memorable journey. He was a wise guide, and his train met with fewer disasters. The Hon. S. A. Clarke in his address tells how Whitman moved his train across Snake River. He says: "When the immigrants reached the Snake, Dr. Whitman proceeded to fasten wagons together in one long string, the strongest in the lead. As soon as the teams were in position, Dr. Whitman tied a rope around his waist and starting his horse into the current swam over. He called to others to follow him, and when they had force enough to pull at the rope the lead team was started in and all were drawn over in safety. As soon as the leading teams were able to get foothold on the bottom all was safe; as they, aided by the strong arms of the men pulling at the rope, pulled the weaker ones along." The Snake River at the ford is divided into three rivers by islands, the last stream on the Oregon side is a deep and rapid current, and fully half a mile wide. To get so many wagons, pulled by jaded teams, and all the thousand men, women and children, and the loose stock across in safety, showed wise generalship. We here copy "A Day with the Cow Column in 1843," by the Hon. Jesse Applegate, a late honored citizen of Oregon, who was one of Dr. Whitman's company in 1843. It is a clear, graphic description of a sample day's journey on the famous trip, and was an address published in the transactions of the Pioneer Oregon Association in 1876. The migration of a large body of men, women and children across the Continent to Oregon was, in the year 1843, strictly an experiment, not only in respect to the numbers, but to the outfit of the migrating party. Before that date two or three missionaries had performed the journey on horseback, driving a few cows with them. Three or four wagons drawn by oxen had reached Fort Hall on Snake River, but it was the honest opinion of most of those who had traveled the route down Snake River that no large number of cattle could be subsisted on its scanty pasturage, or wagons taken over a route so rugged and mountainous.