In the fall of '45 a family named Johnson came, who had a young daughter eighteen or nineteen years of age and Mrs. Whitman hired her to help with the family work; she also studied and the Doctor and his wife taught her all they could. The Doctor also treated her mother, who was paralyzed. This woman's husband would carry his wife in his arms to the evening meetings, place her in a chair and then all would join in "Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing." The daughter, Miss Johnson, instead of going into the valley with her family went to Lapwai and worked for Mrs. Spalding, and was there at the time of the Massacre. Mrs. Whitman used to go to Fort Walla Walla to make little visits. Sometimes she took one child and sometimes another and once she took me. It was a great treat to be allowed to go so far as Fort Walla Walla, right on the Columbia River. When the boats came in sight of the Fort, they were saluted by the firing of a cannon. I was frightened. I had never before heard a cannon and I held on to Mrs. Whitman. She told me to have no fear for they were only firing to salute the boats.

Once they sent me to the river for water and I became badly frightened. I raced to the house and tried to tell how this queer animal acted and how I felt; they thought it was some wild animal and my brother went down with his gun, to find it was only a huge toad. Mrs. Whitman taught us the love of flowers. We each had a flower garden, which we had to weed and care for. She had my brothers take a tin case and gather flowers as they would ride over the country and on their return would press them. She taught us a great deal about things of that kind and instilled in us a love of the beautiful. That kept our minds busy and cultivated a feeling of reverence for Nature.

An artist named Kane was sent out by the English government. He took pictures of the Mission. We children were cleaning up the yard and varying labor by trying to balance the rake on our fingers. Mrs. Whitman reproved us, saying she did not want that in the picture. It was customary to ask individuals what church denomination they belonged to and one day we discovered a man sitting outside the kitchen door; sister Elizabeth asked him about his church. He said he was a Methodist. She came in and told us, "There's a Methodist out there." As we had never seen a Methodist, we looked at him in wonder; but soon found he was not different from other men, and making up our minds he was not dangerous, went and talked with him.

One year Mrs. Whitman took a trip to visit the Eels and Walker Mission, taking my sister with her that time. She tried to take us on these little trips to break the monotony and let us see something besides our home life. We didn't have any shoes in those days—we went barefooted. In the winter we had moccasins, but they were not much protection. Shoes were not to be had in that part of the world. Our dresses for winter were made of what was called "baize-cloth," purchased from the Hudson's Bay Company. For summer, our dresses were made of a material much resembling the hickory shirting so much used at that time. We did not have a very big assortment of clothing; and we wore sunbonnets. Wash-day was a great day; it meant a very early rising, though the boys did most of the washing. When it came ironing day, all the youngsters had to iron. Mrs. Whitman taught us according to our years, to do all kinds of housework. We used to hire the Indians to dig our potatoes. They dug them with camas sticks. They were good at stealing the best of them, and good at stealing other people's water melons.

I can see in memory that there was a great deal of wild rye grass on the surrounding plains. Waillatpu means "rye grass." Droves of Indian horses would come through there. The grass was so tall I could just see their manes and tails. The land is now under cultivation. The wolves were very plentiful and one winter—'45–6—they became so poor and starved they would come right up to the door hunting for food. The Walla Walla River froze over, so that holes had to be cut in the ice for the sheep to obtain water. Some of the sheep fell in. One day we came down from the school for our dinner and in the kitchen the Doctor had five sheep, warming them up. He had rescued them from the water, but Mrs. Whitman was very indignant that he had turned the kitchen into a sheep pen.

In November of 1847 many immigrants had gathered at the Mission, intending to winter there. Measles had broken out among them and many of the Indians had also become victims of this disease and the Doctor was very busy attending them all. On the 27th of the month, Mr. Spalding, who had come to the Whitman mission on business, went with Dr. Whitman to visit the sick at Umatilla and to remain over night. The Doctor was very worried because there were so many sick at his Mission, having ten of his own family down and Mrs. Whitman much alarmed about the children. Some of them were very low—especially my sister Louise and Helen Marr Meek. Leaving Mr. Spalding at Umatilla, the Doctor started for home, meeting Frank Sager on the way, who had been sent by Mrs. Whitman to ask him to return at once because of the critical condition of some of the family. After reaching home, he told the boys to go to bed and he would sit up and look after the sick. So all went upstairs to bed and to sleep, little dreaming of the march of events that would blot out splendidly useful lives on the morrow and leave the girls of the Sager family again without protectors.

[Fourteen][THE MASSACRE]

The morning of the 29th of November, 1847, was a dark, dreary day. When I came downstairs I went into the kitchen where Dr. Whitman was sitting by the cookstove broiling steak for breakfast. I went and put my arms around his neck and kissed him and said, "Good morning, father," as we were taught to greet older persons with all politeness; also to say "Good night" to all as we retired. I continued, "I have had such a bad dream and I woke frightened."

He said, "What was it?"

"I dreamed that the Indians killed you and a lot of others."