arly
candle-light, and we wore the little white dresses that were so
precious in our eyes.

[Illustration: GOLD ROCKER, WASHING PAN AND GOLD BORER]

[Illustration: SCENE DURING THE RUSH TO THE GOLD MINES FROM SAN
FRANCISCO IN 1848]

Before the season was half over, heavy rain was followed by such bitter
cold that all the ground and still waters were frozen stiff. Although
we were well muffled, and grandma warmed us up with a drink of hot
water and sweetened cream before starting us out after the cows, the
frost nipped at our feet until the old scars became so angry and
painful that we could scarcely hobble about the house. Many remedies
were tried, to no purpose, the most severe being the early foot bath
with floats of ice in the water. It chilled us through and through, and
also made grandma keep us from the fire, lest the heat should undo the
benefit expected from the cold. So, while we sat with shivering forms
and chattering teeth looking across the room at the blazing logs under
the breakfast pots and kettles, our string of cows was coming home in
care of a new driver.

We were glad to be together, even in misery, and all things considered,
were perhaps as useful in our crippled condition as before, for there
was enough to keep our hands busy while our feet rested. Grandma
thought she made our work lighter by bringing it to us, yet she came
too often for it to seem easy to us.

First, the six brass candlesticks, with hoods, snuffers, and trays had
to be brightened; and next, there were the small brass kettles in which
she boiled the milk for coffee, to be polished inside and out. However,
we did not dread the kettles much, unless burned, for there was always
a spoon in the bottom to help to gather the scrapings, of which we were
very fond.

But when she would come with a large pan of dried beans or peas to be
picked over quickly, so that she could get them soaked for early
cooking, we would measure its contents with critical eyes to make sure
that it was not more than we had had the previous day. By the time we
would get to the bottom of the pan, she would be ready to put before
us a discouraging pile of iron knives, forks, and pewter spoons to
scour with wood ashes. How we did hate those old black knives and
forks! She said her sight was poor--but she could always see when we
slighted any.

The redeeming work of the day was sorting the dried fruit for sauce or
pies. We could take little nibbles as we hand