Word has been received that Mrs. Frances Killin, 90 years old, a well-known pioneer woman of Clackamas County, is critically
ill at the home of her daughter in Yakima County.

With her husband, John Killin, Mrs. Killin settled on Elliott Prairie in 1847 and built the first house, which still stands
there. Mrs. Killin is the last of the pioneers who settled in that neighborhood.

She is the mother of the late Benton Killin, of Portland. Thomas Killin, of Elliott Prairie, and George Killin, of Woodburn,
are also sons of the nonagenarian pioneer woman.

"Grandma" Frances Killin, a well-known Clackamas County pioneer of 1847, died yesterday afternoon at the home of her daughter,
Mrs. Rachel Garrett, Mabton, Yakima County, Wash. A telegram was received by Mrs. Benton Killin, her daughter-in-law, of this
city, yesterday afternoon, announcing that she had passed away at 1 o'clock.

Mrs. Killin's death had been expected for some time, as she had become helpless several months ago. She was 84 years of age.
With her husband, John Killin, she came to Elliott Prairie, about ten miles east of Woodburn, in 1847, where they erected a home
and started the cultivation of a large farm. Their home became a social center. It was partly built of brick and was considered
the finest home in that district for many years. The ruins of the old home still stand near the county road.

Her husband has been dead for a number of years and Mrs. Killin had lived with her sons and daughter. For the past six years
she made her home with her daughter in Yakima County. She is survived by two sons, George and Thomas Killin, of Clackamas
County; Mrs. Rachel Garrett, of Yakima County, Washington. Benton Killin, a well-known Portland attorney, who died several years
ago, was her son.

Frances Ulam Killin was born in Ohio December 14, 1815, was married to John Killin, January 29, 1834, and died at Mabton,
Yakima County, Washington, December 15, 1909, aged 94 years and 1 day. The death of one who had so nearly reached the century
mark, and who had for 64 years lived in this state, deserves more than a passing notice.

In 1845, then in the flush of vigorous young womanhood, she and her husband, with five small children, took up their long and
wearisome journey across the plains for Oregon. The hardships of that journey to a woman, burdened with little ones, has often
been talked over, but never has and never can be told. Those who did not endure it never can comprehend it. Day after day,
riding in the alkali dust, cooking over a smoky fire made of green sagebrush or buffalo chips, caring as best she could for her
suffering ones, beset no every hand with dangers from the Indians, sickness and other incidents to the journey, for six long
weary months, make up a tale of hardships endured which entitle those early pioneers to an unfading crown of laurel from those
who now enjoy this favored land.

Their first Winter was spent on Tualatin plains, and the next year they settled on a claim in what was afterwards known as
Elliott Prairie, in the southwestern part of Clackamas County, where she made her home until 18 months ago, when her daughter,
Mrs. Garrett, took her to her home in Yakima County, Washington, where she remained until death. Their home was a very resting
one to the immigrants who came after them. The writer well remembers, though then a small boy, the reception his family received
when they came in 1852. Worn out by the long journey, without food or the means to procure it, his father went to the Killin
homestead and applied for food. That noble old Scotch-Irishman, John Killin, bluff and at first of repellant looks, but under
that exterior very kind and charitable, asked, "Have you got any money?" My father replied that he had none, but that if he
lived he would pay. When Killin heard that he said, "All right, I have nothing to sell, but the cellar door is open; go in and
help yourself." And all during that hard Winter that cellar door was open and a warm welcome from Mr. and Mrs. Killin came to
the needy and weary and discouraged ones who came.

In her earlier years, with her children around, each day bringing its duties, she devoted her life to her home and her husband
and children, yet the voice of distress and suffering was always heard by her, and wherever she could be of assistance she was
there. She was always ready to go on errands of helpfulness. Her hand was ever open to assist those who needed it. The hungry
never went unfed from her door. She was always ready to comfort those who were in trouble. But in her home she was at her best.
There all who came were made to feel their welcome. To her children she was indeed a mother. She was the mother of 12, 11 of
whom grew to maturity.

Her husband died in 1868, and for a time she carried on the business of the farm, until her children had grown up and gone
into the life's work for themselves. Since then, she has lived with her children, who have cared for her tenderly. Up to a few
years ago her health was good and she moved about in a way that would have been a pride to many younger women. Up to the last
her mind was clear, except for the lapses of memory incident to old age.

When her husband had gone and her children had left home to engage in their life avocations, she realized that she was passing
into the shadows and that her life work had been done. With that life work she was content. She had done the best she could.
She had met every duty and discharged it as she ought to have done, in her judgment, and she had nothing for which to reproach
herself. There were no repinings. She grew old gracefully. There was about her none of the querulousness which sometimes
characterizes old age. She was always in a cheerful mood and was a general favorite with the young. She knew that the end was
fast coming and she awaited the end with calmness and without regret. She had done well her part and for her there was nothing
to sigh over or to wish undone.

She will be buried on Friday by the side of her husband, in the old Rock Creek burying-ground, which holds the dust of so many
well-beloved and worthy pioneers. She is almost the last of those who settled in that neighborhood who were of mature age when
they went there. Her life has been long and eventful, yet lived quietly and unassumingly. The most of her friends and
acquaintances have preceded her. And while unknown to the great throun, yet her life is an example worthy of all emulation. I
am glad that she has lived thus long; I am glad that she has gone to her reward.