My oldest sister, Mary, was soon
established in the German department of the public school. She was
graduated from the Monticello Seminary, St. Louis, before coming
there. She taught during the week in the public school and on Saturday
taught English in the synagogue. On the Sabbath she played the
melodeon in our church. It was there that, as a child, I learned the
grand old German hymns of the church under her guidance and which
helped to make me the singer I am today.
We had now been seven years in Cincinnati and the church had
flourished so greatly that a second German Reformed church was the
outcome of father's ministry. It was built on Webster street for the
purpose of housing the overflow of the first church on Betts street.
In all this prosperity California gold and missionary fields were
opened and discovered in November, 1847. Father was chosen for
California, and the only way to go was over the plains. What a sad
family was ours while preparations were made which would take father
and brother George, who was now 17 years old, away, as we thought, to
the other end of the earth. At last the hour came and the tie that
bound pastor and people, father, mother and children was severed. My
brother George told me the story of the trip as follows:
"The party left Cincinnati down the river on the steamer Pontiac about
May 10th, 1849, arrived in St. Louis four days after the fire, May
18th, and remained four days at Weston.
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