The Log School-House on the Columbia

rail that led from the northern mountains to the Columbia River. The r

olls the

heard save its

m a long black case in which was a violin. The woman had lived in one of the valleys of the Oregon for several years, but the German g

ering shadows. Through the opening the high summits of Mount St. Helens glittered like a city of pea

Well, Gretchen, they were placed right in the front of your head so as to look forward; they would have been put

I wish I wa

hollows. No, Gretchen, I am willing you should play on the violin, though some of the Methody do not approve of that; and that you should finger the musical glasses in the evening-they have a religious sound and soothe me, like; but the reading of poetr

e sun was ascending a cloudless sky, and far away in the cerulean arch of g

irl s

said the wom

k-yo

the sky, and covered with a lot of ice and snow. I don't see what they were made for, any wa

u can feel so out here! I never

your father and mother died? Wasn't I a mother to you? Didn't I nurse you through the fever? Didn't I send for you t

mother

e violin, which the Methody

een good to me, and I love you

giant trees, and rose clear above it,

ok at it-isn't it splendid?

n," but she checked the rude words. The girl had told her that she loved her

that they are all well enough in their way, but a pioneer woman has no time for sentiments, except hymns. I don't feel like you now, and I don't think that I ever did. I couldn't learn to play the violin and the musical glasses if I

mering lines of carbon, seemed like a fairy tale, a celestial vision, an ascent to some city of crystal and pearl in th

e by the r

primrose

as nothi

Her own life had been so circumscribed and hard that the day seemed to be too bright to be speaking the truth. She peered into the sky for a cloud, but there was none, on this dazzling Oregon morning. The tr

etc

, mot

eside me, proper-like. You needn't ever tell any one that I ain't your true mother. If I ain't ashamed of you, you needn't be ashamed of me. I wish that you were my own girl, now that you have said that you love me more than

way over the mountains, and is just going to teach school in a log school-house-all made

waterfall, over which hung the crowns of pines. The sunlight sifted through the odorous canopy,

n stopp

, what

-an Indi

e mossy coffin and winged its way wildly into the sunny heights of the air. It had made its nes

buds carpeted the shelving ways under the murmuring pines. The woman and girl came at last to a wild, open space; before them rolled the Oregon,

f logs and sods, which the builders called the Sod School-house. It was not a sod school-house in the sense in which the term has been applied to more rec

od's abode in the shadow of ages, St. Helens still lifted her silver tents in the far sky. Eagles and mountain birds wheeled, shrieking joyously, here and t

ring fish at

or of the new school-house, and among them rose the

e great Northwest territory to the United States, is one of the most poetic and dramatic episodes of American history. It has proved to be worth to our country more than all the money that has been given to missionary enterprises. Should the Puget Sound cities become the great ports of Asia, and the ships of commerce drift from Seattle and Tacoma over the Japan current to the Flowery Isles and China; sho

ase. Hall J. Kelley was a teacher of the olden time, well known in Boston almost a century ago. He became possessed with the idea that Oregon was destined to become a great empire. He collected all possible information about the territory, and organized emigration schemes, the first of which started from St. Louis in 18

ose dreams were of the Columbia, and who inspired some of his pupils to become resolute pioneers. Boston was always a friend to Washington and Oregon. W

among some thievish Indians by putting emetic poison in watermelons. The Indians believed these melons to have been conjured by the white doctor, and when

ascades. He sought the Indian friendship of

t the mother believes the boy will be, that he will become. Treat a thief as though he were honest, and he will be honest with you. We help people

eful gathering of friendly tribes, with rude music and gay dances; but it bodes war and massacre and danger if it end with the dance of the ev

smearings of blood. The white people everywhere were disturbed by these reports, for they feared what mig

of a pupil with no books and a violin was something unexpected. He stepped forward with a courtly grace an

rs. Woods, proudly. "They think a great deal of education u

m Bo

rvard College. Can I speak w

dam. Ste

ool rhyme with school, and such things as that. Now, I don't take any interest in such things. But she does play the violin beautiful. Learned of a German teacher. Now, do you want to know wh

d, and know how to use words when I am opposed. Well, one day when husband and I had been havin' words, which we shouldn't, seein' we are Methody, Gretchen began to cry, and went and got her violin, and began to play just like a bird. And my high tem

e best way to get along with Injuns is to appear not to fear them. So I ordered the stragglers away, when one of them swung his tommyhawk about my head, and the others threatened to kill me. How my heart did beat! Gretchen began to cry;

f ever you should get into any trouble with your scholars or Injuns or any

rful tune i

the old Methody hymns that I learned in Lynn when I am about my work

nt. I once played the violin myself in the orc

iting, and figures. You needn't teach her no grammar. I could always talk without any grammar, in the natural way. I was a bound-girl, and neve

ry one true to the best that is in them. I am glad to hav

called the legends and music of the river of song-a river that she had once thought to be the most beautiful on earth. But what were the hills of the Rhine to the scenery that pierced the blue sky around her, and how light seemed the river itself to the majestic flow of the Columbia! Yet the home-l

't be helped. There are a great many things that can't be helped in this world, and all we can do is to make the best of them. Some people were born to live in the skies, and it makes it

. Woods liked to have the world know that she had her trials, and she was p

rd-working life in her girlhood; had become a follower of Jason Lee during one of the old-time revivals of religion; had heard of the Methodist emigration to Oregon, and wished to follow it. She hardly knew why. Though rough in speech and somewhat peculiar, she was