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Clara named one of our cats "Amy" thought it eventually grew to be a big tomcat. My father was very kind hearted. Could scarcely kill a chicken. He kept a rifle on the wall and forbid any of us ever to touch it. We never did. One day he ran indoors, grabbed the rifle and rushed out again. Minutes later he returned with a deer which he had killed. It had been standing on the raised roots of a tree, looking over the fence into his potato patch. After he killed it he felt very sorry. But we had no meat at the time.

Dad dressed the deer and hung it up on a frame outside. Next morning we discovered that Amy had climbed up and eaten a hole as big as your fist into one of the hind quarters - the very best part of the venison.

Recently sister Clara Dooley was coming out of the University Church in Seattle, beside an elderly lady whom she had seen there over a period of years, but never met. They began talking and discovered that she lived across the street from where Clara was born - near the Times Square. I think it was on John Street. Another coincidence.

Before the Jefferson County line was cut through we did not pay our taxes one year because we did not know in which county we were located. During the time that C. J. Andrews and Dave Kerr were running the line near our place, Mother fed them and bedded them down in the hay.

Mrs. Hartzell was our first public school and Sunday School teacher. While I knew her, I was afraid of the formal school and wouldn't go inside until she bribed me with a catalogue of baby buggies. One of her boy pupils chewed his lower lip until his face was sore and discolored. She kept warning him during school hours not to do it because Santa Claus wouldn't bring him anything unless he stopped it. When Christmas came, Mrs. Hartzell acted as Santa. In the excitement she forgot about her warning and gave gifts to all the children. After she had started out of the room she came back and warned him again that next year she (Santa) wouldn't bring him anything if he chewed his lip.

We Knack children would holler at the river and Mr. McKinnon would set us across to school, mornings.

Although Mrs. Hartzell was a Methodist, the Congregational church in Seattle furnished the literature and testaments for our Sunday School and church as a missionary project. Once Rev. Green of that church paid us a visit. Church services were in progress. The congregation was singing "Whosoever Will May Come", when in walked a goat.

We used the old Pentecostal Hymnal No. 1, which contained many of E. P. Bliss's songs. Public School always opened with prayer and a hymn.