A white friend whom she often visited, Mrs. Sarah Kellogg, said to the writer, "Angeline lived up to the light she had; she was honest and would never take anything that was offered her unless she needed it. I always made her some little present, saying, 'Well, Angeline, what do you want? Some sugar?' 'No, I have plenty of sugar, I would like a little tea.' So it was with anything else mentioned, if she was supplied she said so. I had not seen her for quite a while at one time, and hearing she was sick sent my husband to the door of her shack to inquire after her. Sure enough she lay in her bunk unable to rise. When asked if she wanted anything to eat, she replied, 'No, I have plenty of muck-amuck; Arthur Denny sent me a box full, but I want some candles and matches.' "She told me that she was getting old and might die any time and that she never went to bed without saying her prayers. "During a long illness she came to my house quite often, but was sent away by those in charge; when I was at last able to sit up, I saw her approaching the house and went down to the kitchen to be ready to receive her. As usual I inquired after her wants, when she somewhat indignantly asked, 'Don't you suppose I can come to see you without wanting something?' "One day as she sat in my kitchen a young white girl asked before her, in English, of course, 'Does Angeline know anything about God?' She said quickly in Chinook, 'You tell that girl that I know God sees me all the time; I might lie or steal and you would never find it out, but God would see me do it.'" In her old age she exerted herself, even when feeble from sickness, to walk long distances in quest of food and other necessities, stumping along with her cane and sitting down now and then on a door-step to rest. All the trades-people knew her and were generally kind to her. At last she succumbed to an attack of lung trouble and passed away. Having declared herself a Roman Catholic, she was honorably buried from the church in Seattle, Rev. F. X. Prefontaine officiating, while several of the old pioneers were pallbearers. A canoe-shaped coffin had been prepared on which lay a cross of native rhododendrons and a cluster of snowballs, likely from an old garden. A great concourse of people were present, many out of curiosity, no doubt, while some were there with real feeling and solemn thought. Her old friend, Mrs. Maynard, stood at the head of the grave and dropped in a sprig of cedar. She spoke some encouraging words to Joe Foster, Betsy's son, and Angeline's sole mourner, advising him to live a good life. And so Angeline was buried according to her wish, in the burying ground of the old pioneers. YUTESTID. After extending numerous invitations, I was pleasantly surprised upon my return to my home one day to find Mr. and Mrs. Yutestid awaiting an interview.