Gaston, Joseph. "The Centennial History of Oregon, 1811-1912." Vol. 4. Chicago, Clarke Publishing Co., 1912. p. 124. THOMAS HIRST Deceased, was one of the very early pioneers of Oregon and public opinion placed him among the most enterprising and valued citizens of his adopted state. He was born in England April 15, 1835, and at the age of fifteen years emigrated to America, settling in Ohio, where he continued to live for three years, and there received his education in the public schools. He then removed to Australia, where he kept his residence for five years and then returned to this country and spent one year in San Francisco, California, after which he moved to Oregon, settling in Coos county, where he purchased one hundred and sixty acres of heavily timbered land. There he established his home and engaged in general agricultural pursuits and stock-raising. Mr. Hirst wrote a most eloquent review of his early life in Oregon, which was published in the April number of "Pioneer Days," of that year and is here reproduced with acknowledgements to that periodical. "I arrived in Coos county, Oregon territory, in January, 1859, by walking down the Umpqua beach to Coos bay, and thence by Indian canoe and mountain trail to the Coquille river, there to carve out a home in that beautiful garden of southwestern Oregon. A beautiful garden it was for, as I stood on the top of Sugarloaf mountain, with the broad expanse of the valley lying before me covered with the bright green of the maple and the dark green of the myrtle, with the snow-capped mountains in the distance, it formed as grand a picture as the eye could wish to see; but to turn this garden into a home the forest must be destroyed, and what an herculean task it would be! I have seen the oak and hickory forests of Ohio, the chestnut and sugar maple groves of Pennsylvania, gathered walnuts in the woods of Kentucky, traveled through the gum forests of New South Wales, but for density and number of trees to the acre the Coquille valley outclassed them all. In such a forest out stout-hearted pioneer carved out a home after many years of toil, and that he has been repaid for his labor the fine farms and happy homes fully attest. When our pioneer women wished to visit their neighbors they would frequently paddle their own canoe up and down the river, and some of them became quite expert. I remember a time when one of our bright young school teachers went down the river to purchase supplies. The trip down the river was easy enough, but the return trip was more difficult, in fact the young man had to accept the assistance of one of our brave pioneer women to steer his canoe to port. 'Never mind, Binger, if you could not handle a canoe, you have proved yourself competent to work well and faithfully for your adopted state. Many years your voice has been heard in the halls of congress. All honor to you as a Coos county pioneer.' The early pioneer had much difficulty in marketing his products. Many a time I have left home at 2 o'clock in the morning and paddled twenty-four miles down the river and then four miles up Beaver slough, then carried my load three miles up the isthmus, put it into another canoe and traveled another fifteen miles to North Bend sawmill, arriving about 9 o'clock at night, there to exchange my various products for the articles needed at home, not forgetting the injunction to bring one paper each of needles and pins. Returning home, which always took two days, I had time to note the skill of the beaver in repairing the dams that I had torn open to pass through the day before. But alas, the trapper came, and thy beautiful coat was sent east, to be worn and admired by the people who knew thee not. Farewell, old friend. No more will my canoe glide over the placid waters held in check by thy labors. No more will the hardy trapper exchange thy coat for flour or sugar or fill his jug with such water as thou never dreamed of. Thy home is desolate and Beaver slough is now a thing of the past as a commercial highway. "The pioneer had no cultivated or domestic fruit but there was a plentiful supply of wild fruits in their season, consisting of salmon berries, raspberries, blackberries, huckleberries and crabapples. Sunday was the day for gathering the fruit. The canoe Telephone (Edison was unknown to us), operated by our women, would send word to our neighbors to meet at a certain point or bend in the river. Then with lunch in pails our ever-ready canoe would glide down the river to the place of meeting. Having filled our pails with fruit and enjoyed a pleasant chat over our lunch, we would return home for milking time. For pleasure and recreation we had our barn raisings and log rollings. When a new settler had located his claim and building site, and cleared a small patch, he would select the most suitable trees for his log cabin or barn and then on an appointed day the neighbors for miles around would go to his place and roll, notch and fit the logs into position, and before night would leave him with the framework of a good log cabin, having worked and feasted all day, returning to our homes contented and at peace with all the world. Nor did we forget to celebrate the glorious Fourth of July. How well do I remember when that great-hearted pioneer, William T. Perry, placed his flatboat at our disposal for a two weeks' trip to Whiskey Run, where the Schroeder boys, Henry and Gus, were mining. What a royal welcome they gave us, with music, feasting and dancing and exploring the beach, gathering agates and shells, nor did we forget to indulge in the various shell fish we found among the rocks. I will never forget the trip nor the various members who composed the party. Alas, how many of them have passed over to the Great Beyond. As memory carries me backward forty years how well I remember the generous, brave-hearted pioneers, the Hermanns, Schroeders, Perrys, Dements, Yoakams, Lockharts, Kenyons, good old Ben Figg, Ned Fahy, the Low brothers, the Rogers brothers, monarchs of industry on Coos river, the Hillborns, Hollands, Butlers, Captain Harris, the Aiken brothers, Dr. Hodson, the Rook brothers, W. D. L. F. Smith, generous B. F. Ross, the Stauff brothers, good old John Kronenburg, the Noble brothers, H. H. Luce, Empire City's pioneer mill man, Al Simpson, the man whose active brain has kept his mill and shipyards in active operation in good or bad times for forty years, P. Flanagan and S. S. Mann. Ah, these last two men are entitled to more than a passing notice. Pioneers of pioneers, their skill, judgment and enterprise made coal mining a success on Coos bay. Hospitable, generous and kind to their employes, their home was known far and wide as a place where the traveler would be royally entertained without money and without price. Both held positions of trust in Coos county. Their good deeds and works can never be forgotten by the old pioneer. C. H. Merchant, for many years a hard worker but by his business foresight and enterprise, his strict integrity and economy is now able to sit in the stern and steer while others paddle his canoe. Andrew Nasburg, a successful farmer and merchant, was the first postmaster in Marshfield, and his salary was twelve dollars per year. He held the office many years and when he resigned in favor of the writer, the commission on the business done amounted to abut seven hundred dollars per annum. Mr. Nasburg was taken from us in the prime of life, but left behind a name and record of which his family may justly feel proud. "The pioneer women, how nobly they have done their part! How well in our absence have they defended our homes! With their trusty gun they have slain the fierce lynx that stole our poultry, with the faithful dog by their side and ax in hand they have chased the prowling bear that would have carried off our hogs, they have braved the flood waist-deep to drive the cattle to the hills for safety, and in a thousand ways have proved their indomitable courage. All honor to our pioneer women! During the flood of 1861-2 I left Eastport at 7 o'clock in the morning with grub and blankets to last three days, expecting it would take me that time to reach my home. John Canyon and myself worked at the coal mines during the winter and improved our places in summer. Our wives lived together during our absence, that being convenient, as our farms joined. I started homeward, crossing the isthmus as usual, but the water of the Coquille river was so high that I left the regular trail, doubling Green Point, and made straight for Cedar Point. Crossing the river I made a beeline for Fishtrap, then crossed the stream again and came out at the Malcolm place -- now Fred Schroeder's elegant home. I then entered the woods and proceeded to Perry's Prairie, arriving before sundown, having been but nine and one-half hours on my journey. If the water had been ten feet lower I should have had to follow the sinuosity of the stream, and no doubt it would have taken me three days to have reached my home. When I was at Cedar Point I saw a log cabin floating down the river. Then my heart sank within me and 'where is my home and how fares my neighbors,' were the questions that involuntarily came to my mind. The flood was so general and the current rushed so rapidly that it seemed as though the whole upper river was submerged, and the sweetest music that ever greeted my ears was the voice of good old lady Perry, when, in answer to my inquiry when I arrived at her cabin, she said 'yes, Tom, here is Lou; we are all right.' As before stated, my wife and Mrs. Canyon were living together for company. They had an intuition that there would be a great flood and had rounded up our cattle in the timber but couldn't make them cross a slough at the lower end of my clearings in order to drive them to higher ground, hence they were obliged to leave them to their fate. The next morning the water was still rising and they started what cattle they had in the clearing and followed them an eighth of a mile, wading waist-deep in the water and forcing the cattle to swim to higher ground. Having saved the stock they then began to think of their own safety. Their canoe was gone and they must reach Perry's, more than a mile away. They crossed a slough by climbing a myrtle, whose overhanging branches interlocked with the limbs on the opposite side. After their perilous climb they landed on the proper side and waded to the bank of the stream opposite Perry's place just as that grand old man was giving orders for a boat to go to the rescue of Nancy and Lou. "Pioneers of the '50's, our voyage is near its end, our canoe trip has not always been one of pleasure nor yet of sorrow. Sometimes we have met strong floods to check our progress, sand-bars and shoals to contend with, rapids to shoot, snags and whirlpools to lure us to destruction, and often cold, wet and weary, our limbs aching with toil, and making little headway. Then again the tide would turn, favorable winds would waft us onward, giving us rest and renewed courage to face the dark canyons of adversity or the green fields of prosperity. To the pioneers who have been called hence, we bid you a kind farewell; to the pioneers who are still with us, you whose sun has passed the zenith, may peace and contentment be with you, may your canoe float gently down stream to pleasant lakes, and when you make the last landing on the shore of time, may you find the trail blazed to guide you to the great wigwam, and be welcomed by Sah-la-Tyee, or great spirit of the universe." In 1873 Mr. Hirst removed to Marshfield and was there engaged in the general mercantile until within a short time of his death, which occurred on November 14, 1903. He left to his widow an estate of one hundred and sixty acres near the city limits of Bandon, also a personal property interest in the merchandising establishment at Marshfield, and a beautiful residence in that city, now occupied by Mrs. Hirst as her home. On November 12, 1855, Mr. Hirst was united in marriage to Miss Louisa A. Milton, who was born in New South Wales, Australia, November 29, 1838, and received her education in the public schools of Australia. Her parents James and Ellen (Donahoe) Milton, were natives of London, England, and removed to Australia at an early period in life, their marriage being celebrated in that country. The father for some time conducted a shoe store and later was engaged in farming. The father and mother both died in Australia, the former at the age of seventy-seven and the latter at the age of seventy-four. In their family were eight children: Mrs. Ellen Johnson, of Australia; James, deceased; Louisa A., who is the widow of Thomas Hirst; William, deceased; Ruth, of Australia; Edward, whose death occurred in Australia; Thomas, deceased; and Elizabeth, of Australia. Mr. and Mrs. Hirst adopted a son, Milton E. Hirst, when he was a child two years of age. He was born in 1878 and now resides in Marshfield. Mr. Hirst while a resident of Marshfield was for two years the regularly appointed postmaster of that place. He has a place in the history of Oregon on the honored roll of her early pioneers. He was a man of unusual intelligence and during life was ever to be relied upon to identify himself with every measure of public interest seeking the welfare of the people of his county and state. Mrs. Hirst is a devout and active member of the Episcopal church of Marshfield. Transcriber's additional notes: Death Certificate Transcription Oregon Death Cert. # 355 Thomas Hirst; male, white, married Residence: Coos Co., Oregon Occupation: retired merchant Birth: April 15; England Death: November 13, 1903; Coos Co., Oregon Age at death: 68 years, 7 months Cause: Purpura Hazmorrhagica, 6 months Burial & Undertaker: not stated Parents: father, Hirst b England; mother, no name stated, b England Informant: C. W. T. (C. W. Tower, M.D.); Marsh ******************* Submitted to the Oregon Bios. Project in June 2006 by Diana Smith. Submitter has no additional information about the person(s) or family mentioned above.