might prevent my rest. On the other hand, there was every appearance of a cold, heavy storm, very little wood near which I could procure for a fire with only my hatchet, and I should be alone, exposed to ravenous wild beasts—the latter consideration, however, I scarcely regarded. But believing it would please the chief should I accept his invitation, I went with him to his dwelling, which was a long, permanent building on the west side of the river, up an elevation of one hundred feet, and near which were several other buildings of nearly the same dimensions. Besides the family of the chief, there were two other families in the same building, in sections about twenty feet apart, separated from each other by mats hung up for partitions. Their houses are built of logs split into thick plank. These Indians do not sink any part of their buildings below the surface of the earth, as some of the Indians do about and below the Cascades. The walls of the chief's house were about seven feet high, the roofs are more steeply elevated than what is common in the United States, made of the same materials with the walls, only the planks are of less thickness. They have only one door to the house, and this is in the center of the front side. They have no chimney to carry off the smoke, but a hole is left open above the fireplace, which is in the center of each family's apartment. This answers very well in calm weather, but when there is much wind, the whole building becomes a smokehouse. The fireplace of the chief's apartment was sunk a foot below the surface of the earth, eight feet square, secured by a frame around, and mats spread upon the floor for the family to sit upon. Their dormitories are on the sides of the apartment, raised four feet above the floor, with movable ladders for ascent; and under them they stow away their dried fish, roots, berries and other effects. There was not an excess of neatness within, and still less without.
"These Indians were also kind. They gave me most of one side of the fireplace, spread down clean, new mats, replenished their fire, and were ready to perform any service I should wish. I let them fill and boil my teakettle, after which I spread out my stores so bountifully provided by Dr. McLoughlin, and performed my own cooking. During the evening, the chief manifested a disposition to be sociable, but we had but a very little language common to us both besides the language of signs. The next thing when the hour of rest arrived, was to fortify myself against a numerous and insidious enemy. I first spread down the cloth of my tent, then my blankets, and wrapped myself up as securely as I could, and should have slept comfortably had I not too fully realized my apprehensions.
"As soon as daylight appeared, on December 1st, I left the hospitable habitation of Wanaxka, and with my two Indians, proceeded down the Willamette about sixteen miles before we landed for breakfast." Sometime after the destruction of the first building, Dr. McLoughlin erected a second storehouse at the falls, protected this time by a stockade of hewed logs, with a gate and padlock. At this place wheat was stored and Indian goods that were used in buying skins and salmon. In the edge of the forest this small stockade stood, about where the Oregon City woolen mill is now, and later it developed into a Hudson's Bay store for the convenience of incoming settlers. Dr. McLoughlin started to blast a race for a mill, but the company opposing, the mill was built on the Columbia above Vancouver, and the squared timbers he had prepared were left on the ground at the falls.
In May, 1840, the bark Lausanne brought into the Columbia a large company of Methodist missionaries. While the Lausanne was unloading by means of canoes, the brig Maryland from Newburyport, Capt. John H. Couch, passed them and entered the Willamette river, ascending on the high water of June to the falls, but being warned that with the recession of the water he would be left stranded, the captain hastily fell down to about where the city of Portland now stands. On the same high water, with a canoeload of goods, Rev. Alvin F. Waller and wife, missionaries of the ship Lausanne, went on up to the falls,
