DR. McLOUGHLIN RESIGNS 333
some, fair, flushed face that seemed to never grow old was a constant study to his friends. The transparent, baby-like skin revealed every heart-throb as the hot blood ran up to the roots of his snowy hair. Like all generous natures, the doctor was quick-tempered none regretted it more than he. "No, no, no," might be the irritable answer to some unlucky petitioner. Then, in a moment the doctor would turn and beckon, "Here, here; what do you want?" and grant the request.
He could not hear a tale of woe without lending assistance; the multitude of such stories would fill a volume.
"He was, indeed, the Father of Oregon," says an aged American. "He came into our colony and led the procession the next Fourth of July. Every New Year's Day he used to go up one street and down another and call at every house. If any one was in trouble he saw that necessary aid was despatched at once he did not trust it to others, he saw to it himself. We would have died when we came had it not been for Dr. McLoughlin. He gave us seed and clothing and the very bread we ate."
Such was the doctor's humility that although weighed down with the responsibility of the unpaid debts of the immigrants, he never alluded to any particular act of charity, neither would he accept interest on any debt when it was paid.
