all night, for there sat father at work on the shoes, while mother was preparing the breakfast; on the table were our books. Oh! such lovely books, covered with a piece of one of mother's worn-out calico dresses, her prettiest dress, I thought. No city boy or girl could be more pleased with their nice new books than we were. And the rapture of it! Such cute thumb-papers in each! What boy or girl nowadays knows what a thumb-paper is? Simply a piece of paper folded in fanciful shape. Happy were those who could boast a pretty colored one that would be too good for every-day use. In holding our books while studying, the paper rested under the thumb and saved wearing the book.
Father had only finished one pair of shoes (Horton's); the rest of us were barefooted, and there was a light fall of snow on the ground, but there was no talk of staying at home. Horton went ahead and scraped one foot along, thus clearing the snow from a path for us small girls to walk in. I have often wondered if we cried with our cold feet. I have no recollection of doing so. Perhaps the thought of our books, thumb-papers, and school kept us from noticing our feet. Any way, before school was out that afternoon father was at the schoolhouse with our shoes slung over his shoulders, and how proudly we put them on in front of the fire, with the other children interested onlookers. Whether we had stockings or not I do not recall.
I cannot say how long Mr. Snyder taught, but my first recollection of gingerbread was while he was teaching. There was some talk of fastening him out if he did not "treat" (according to some custom), and he sent to Oregon City and got gingerbread. It was a treat to be remembered for years. After Mr. Snyder closed his school. Miss Allie Cornelius taught us for a brief period.
In 1847, I think, father built a sawmill on the Columbia, and moved his family there, but sold out after a few months, and we came sailing and rowing up the river in a flatboat, past the new town of Portland, to Green Point, just below Oregon City. He chose that place because he had heard that the Sisters of Notre Dame had opened a school for girls there. We were soon enrolled as day pupils, and in a short time as boarders; for father built another sawmill on the Washougal, and he and mother, with the two younger children, had gone there. What a trio of poor little homesick girls, mere babes, the eldest not more than 9 years old! It was here I first saw Dr. McLoughlin, who often came to visit the school with his daughter, Mrs. Rae, afterward Mrs. Harvey, whose two daughters were also boarders there. There, too, we made the acquaintance of our worthy Dr. Barclay and his lovely bride, who, as the years went by, grew even more lovely in person and in character. Here were gathered children from all over the Oregon country, whose parents in many cases were in the gold fields of California, trusting their children to the care of the Sisters.
In November, 1849, our parents came back from the Washougal mill and settled on the dear old place which was to be the future home of the family. And I think it was the next year that Mr. Fisher, a Baptist minister, opened
