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diff --git a/11146-h/11146-h.htm b/11146-h/11146-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..89abdc5 --- /dev/null +++ b/11146-h/11146-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,11177 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content= + "text/html; charset=UTF-8"> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Expedition Of The Donner Party And Its Tragic Fate, by Eliza P. Donner Houghton. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + <!-- + P { text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; } + HR { width: 33%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em;} + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%;} + blockquote {text-align: justify;} + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .note {margin-left: 2em; margin-right: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} /* block indent */ + .pagenum {position: absolute; left: 92%; right: 100%; font-size: 8pt; justify: right;} /* page numbers */ + // --> + </style> + </head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11146 ***</div> + +<br> + + + + +<h1>THE EXPEDITION OF THE DONNER PARTY</h1> + +<h1>AND ITS TRAGIC FATE</h1> + + + +<h2>BY ELIZA P. DONNER HOUGHTON</h2> + + +<a name="image-1"><!-- Image 1 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/001.jpg" height="414" width="300" +alt="S. O. Houghton"> +</center> + +<h5>S. O. Houghton</h5> + +<hr> + +<a name="image-2"><!-- Image 2 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/002.jpg" height="295" width="300" +alt="Eliza P. Donner Houghton"> +</center> + +<h5>Eliza P. Donner Houghton</h5> + +<hr> +<br> + +<h2>PREFACE</h2> +<br> + +<p>Out of the sunshine and shadows of sixty-eight years come these +personal recollections of California—of the period when American +civilization first crossed its mountain heights and entered its +overland gateways.</p> + +<p>I seem to hear the tread of many feet, the lowing of many herds, and +know they are the re-echoing sounds of the sturdy pioneer home-seekers. +Travel-stained and weary, yet triumphant and happy, most of them reach +their various destinations, and their trying experiences and valorous +deeds are quietly interwoven with the general history of the State.</p> + +<p>Not so, however, the "<a name="IAnchorD60"></a><a href="#IndexD60">Donner Party</a>," +of which my father was captain. +Like fated trains of other epochs whose privations, sufferings, and +self-sacrifices have added renown to colonization movements and served +as danger signals to later wayfarers, that party began its journey with +song of hope, and within the first milestone of the promised land ended +it with a prayer for help. "Help for the helpless in the storms of the +Sierra Nevada Mountains!"</p> + +<p>And I, a child then, scarcely four years of age, was too young to do +more than watch and suffer with other children the lesser privations +of our snow-beleaguered camp; and with them survive, because the +fathers and mothers hungered in order that the children might live.</p> + +<p>Scenes of loving care and tenderness were emblazoned on my mind. Scenes +of anguish, pain, and dire distress were branded on my brain during +days, weeks, and months of famine,—famine which reduced the party from +eighty-one souls to forty-five survivors, before the heroic relief men +from the settlements could accomplish their mission of humanity.</p> + +<p>Who better than survivors knew the heart-rending circumstances of life +and death in those mountain camps? Yet who can wonder that tenderest +recollections and keenest heartaches silenced their quivering lips for +many years; and left opportunities for false and sensational details to +be spread by morbid collectors of food for excitable brains, and for +prolific historians who too readily accepted exaggerated and +unauthentic versions as true statements?</p> + +<p>Who can wonder at my indignation and grief in little girlhood, when I +was told of acts of brutality, inhumanity, and cannibalism, attributed +to those starved parents, who in life had shared their last morsels of +food with helpless companions?</p> + +<p>Who can wonder that I then resolved that, "When I grow to be a woman I +shall tell the story of my party so clearly that no one can doubt its +truth"? Who can doubt that my resolve has been ever kept fresh in mind, +by eager research for verification and by diligent communication with +older survivors, and rescuers sent to our relief, who answered my many +questions and cleared my obscure points?</p> + +<p>And now, when blessed with the sunshine of peace and happiness, I am +finishing my work of filial love and duty to my party and the State of +my adoption, who can wonder that I find on my chain of remembrance +countless names marked, "forget me not"? Among the many to whom I +became greatly indebted in my young womanhood for valuable data and +gracious encouragement in my researches are General William Tecumseh +Sherman, General John A. Sutter, Mrs. Ulysses S. Grant, Mrs. Jessie +Benton Frémont, <a name="IAnchorF15"></a><a href="#IndexF15">Honorable Allen Francis</a>, +and C.F. McGlashan, author of +the "History of the Donner Party."</p> + +<p>My fondest affection must ever cling to the dear, quaint old pioneer +men and women, whose hand-clasps were warmth and cheer, and whose +givings were like milk and honey to my desolate childhood. For each and +all of them I have full measure of gratitude, often pressed down, and +now overflowing to their sons and daughters, for, with keenest +appreciation I learned that, on June 10, 1910, the order of Native Sons +of the Golden West laid the corner stone of "Donner Monument," on the +old emigrant trail near the beautiful lake which bears the party's +name. There the Native Sons of the Golden West, aided by the Native +Daughters of the Golden West, propose to erect a memorial to all +overland California pioneers.</p> + +<p>In a letter to me from Dr. C.W. Chapman, chairman of that monument +committee, is the following forceful paragraph:</p> + +<blockquote>"The Donner Party has been selected by us as the +most typical and as the most varied and comprehensive in its +experiences of all the trains that made these wonderful journeys +of thousands of miles, so unique in their daring, so brave, so +worthy of the admiration of man."</blockquote> + +<p>ELIZA P. DONNER HOUGHTON.</p> + +<p>Los Angeles, California,</p> + +<p><i>September, 1911</i>.</p> + +<hr> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<h4><!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> + <a href="#CHAPTER_I"><b>CHAPTER I</b></a><br> +THE PACIFIC COAST IN 1845—SPEECHES OF SENATOR BENTON AND REPORT OF +CAPT. FRÉMONT—MY FATHER AND HIS FAMILY—INTEREST AWAKENED IN THE NEW +TERRITORY—FORMATION OF THE FIRST EMIGRANT PARTY FROM ILLINOIS TO +CALIFORNIA—PREPARATIONS FOR THE JOURNEY—THE START—ON THE OUTSKIRTS +OF CIVILIZATION<br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_II"><b>CHAPTER II</b></a><br> +IN THE TERRITORY OF KANSAS—PRAIRIE SCHOONERS FROM SANTA FÉ TO +INDEPENDENCE, MO.—LIFE <i>en route</i>—THE BIG BLUE—CAMP GOVERNMENT—THE +<i>Blue Rover</i><br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_III"><b>CHAPTER III</b></a><br> +IN THE HAUNTS OF THE PAWNEES—LETTERS OF MRS. GEORGE DONNER—HALT AT +FORT BERNARD—SIOUX INDIANS AT FORT LARAMIE<br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_IV"><b>CHAPTER IV</b></a><br> +FOURTH OF JULY IN AN EMIGRANT PARTY—OPEN LETTER OF LANSFORD +HASTINGS—GEORGE DONNER ELECTED CAPTAIN OF PARTY BOUND FOR +CALIFORNIA—ENTERING THE GREAT DESERT—INSUFFICIENT SUPPLY OF +FOOD—VOLUNTEERS COMMISSIONED BY MY FATHER TO HASTEN TO SUTTER'S FORT +FOR RELIEF<br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_V"><b>CHAPTER V</b></a><br> +BEWILDERING GUIDE BOARD—SOUL-TRYING STRUGGLES—FIRST SNOW—REED-SNYDER +TRAGEDY—HARDCOOP'S FATE<br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_VI"><b>CHAPTER VI</b></a><br> +INDIAN DEPREDATIONS—WOLFINGER'S DISAPPEARANCE—STANTON RETURNS WITH +SUPPLIES FURNISHED BY CAPT. SUTTER—DONNER WAGONS SEPARATED FROM TRAIN +FOREVER—TERRIBLE PIECE OF NEWS—FORCED INTO SHELTER AT DONNER +LAKE—DONNER CAMP ON PROSSER CREEK.<br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_VII"><b>CHAPTER VII</b></a><br> +SNOWBOUND—SCARCITY OF FOOD AT BOTH CAMPS—WATCHING FOR RETURN OF +MCCUTCHEN AND REED<br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_VIII"><b>CHAPTER VIII</b></a><br> +ANOTHER STORM—FOUR DEATHS IN DONNER CAMP—FIELD MICE USED FOR +FOOD—CHANGED APPEARANCE OF THE STARVING—SUNSHINE—DEPARTURE OF THE +"FORLORN HOPE"—WATCHING FOR RELIEF—IMPOSSIBLE TO DISTURB THE BODIES +OF THE DEAD IN DONNER CAMP—ARRIVAL AND DEPARTURE OF FIRST RELIEF PARTY<br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_IX"><b>CHAPTER IX</b></a><br> +SUFFERINGS OF THE "FORLORN HOPE"—RESORT TO HUMAN FLESH—"CAMP OF +DEATH"—BOOTS CRISPED AND EATEN—DEER KILLED—INDIAN <i>Rancheria</i>—THE +"WHITE MAN'S HOME" AT LAST<br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_X"><b>CHAPTER X</b></a><br> +RELIEF MEASURES INAUGURATED IN CALIFORNIA—DISTURBED CONDITIONS BECAUSE +OF MEXICAN WAR—GENEROUS SUBSCRIPTIONS—THREE PARTIES ORGANIZE—"FIRST +RELIEF," UNDER RACINE TUCKER; "SECOND RELIEF," UNDER REED AND +GREENWOOD; AND RELAY CAMP UNDER WOODWORTH—FIRST RELIEF PARTY CROSSES +SNOW-BELT AND REACHES DONNER LAKE<br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XI"><b>CHAPTER XI</b></a><br> +WATCHING FOR THE SECOND RELIEF PARTY—"OLD NAVAJO"—LAST FOOD IN CAMP<br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XII"><b>CHAPTER XII</b></a><br> +ARRIVAL OF SECOND RELIEF, OR REED-GREENWOOD PARTY—FEW SURVIVORS STRONG +ENOUGH TO TRAVEL—WIFE'S CHOICE—PARTINGS AT DONNER CAMP—MY TWO +SISTERS AND I DESERTED—DEPARTURE OF SECOND RELIEF PARTY<br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XIII"><b>CHAPTER XIII</b></a><br> +A FATEFUL CABIN—MRS. MURPHY GIVES MOTHERLY COMFORT—THE GREAT +STORM—HALF A BISCUIT—ARRIVAL OF THIRD RELIEF—"WHERE IS MY BOY?"<br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XIV"><b>CHAPTER XIV</b></a><br> +THE QUEST OF TWO FATHERS—SECOND RELIEF IN DISTRESS—THIRD RELIEF +ORGANIZED AT WOODWORTH'S RELAY CAMP—DIVIDES AND ONE HALF GOES TO +SUCCOR SECOND RELIEF AND ITS REFUGEES; AND THE OTHER HALF PROCEEDS TO +DONNER LAKE—A LAST FAREWELL—A WOMAN'S SACRIFICE<br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XV"><b>CHAPTER XV</b></a><br> +SIMON MURPHY, FRANCES, GEORGIA, AND I TAKEN FROM THE LAKE CABINS BY THE +THIRD RELIEF—NO FOOD TO LEAVE—CROSSING THE SNOW—REMNANT OF THE +SECOND RELIEF OVERTAKEN—OUT OF THE SNOW—INCIDENTS OF THE +JOURNEY—JOHNSON'S RANCH—THE SINCLAIR HOME—SUTTER'S FORT<br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XVI"><b>CHAPTER XVI</b></a><br> +ELITHA AND LEANNA—LIFE AT THE FORT—WATCHING THE COW PATH—RETURN OF +THE FALLON PARTY—KESEBERG BROUGHT IN BY THEM—FATHER AND MOTHER DID +NOT COME<br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XVII"><b>CHAPTER XVII</b></a><br> +ORPHANS—KESEBERG AND HIS ACCUSERS—SENSATIONAL ACCOUNTS OF THE TRAGEDY +AT DONNER LAKE—PROPERTY SOLD AND GUARDIAN APPOINTED—KINDLY +INDIANS—"GRANDPA"—MARRIAGE OF ELITHA<br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII"><b>CHAPTER XVIII</b></a><br> +"GRANDMA"—HAPPY VISITS—A NEW HOME—AM PERSUADED TO LEAVE IT<br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XIX"><b>CHAPTER XIX</b></a><br> +ON A CATTLE RANCH NEAR THE COSUMNE RIVER—"NAME BILLY"—INDIAN GRUB +FEAST<br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XX"><b>CHAPTER XX</b></a><br> +I RETURN TO GRANDMA—WAR RUMORS AT THE FORT—LINGERING HOPE THAT MY +MOTHER MIGHT BE LIVING—AN INDIAN CONVOY—THE BRUNNERS AND THEIR HOME<br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXI"><b>CHAPTER XXI</b></a><br> +MORAL DISCIPLINE—THE HISTORICAL PUEBLO OF SONOMA—SUGAR PLUMS<br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXII"><b>CHAPTER XXII</b></a><br> +GOLD DISCOVERED—"CALIFORNIA IS OURS"—NURSING THE SICK—THE U.S. +MILITARY POST—BURIAL OF AN OFFICER<br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII"><b>CHAPTER XXIII</b></a><br> +REAPING AND THRESHING—A PIONEER FUNERAL—THE HOMELESS AND WAYFARING +APPEAL TO MRS. BRUNNER—RETURN OF THE MINERS—SOCIAL GATHERINGS—OUR +DAILY ROUTINE—STOLEN PLEASURES—A LITTLE DAIRYMAID—MY DOGSKIN SHOES<br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV"><b>CHAPTER XXIV</b></a><br> +MEXICAN METHODS OF CULTIVATION—FIRST STEAMSHIP THROUGH THE GOLDEN +GATE—"THE ARGONAUTS" OR "BOYS OF '49"—A LETTER FROM THE STATES—JOHN +BAPTISTE—JAKIE LEAVES US—THE FIRST AMERICAN SCHOOL IN SONOMA<br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXV"><b>CHAPTER XXV</b></a><br> +FEVER PATIENTS FROM THE MINES—UNMARKED GRAVES—THE TALES AND TAUNTS +THAT WOUNDED MY YOUNG HEART<br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI"><b>CHAPTER XXVI</b></a><br> +THANK OFFERINGS—MISS DOTY'S SCHOOL—THE BOND OF KINDRED—IN JACKET AND +TROUSERS—CHUM CHARLIE<br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII"><b>CHAPTER XXVII</b></a><br> +CAPT. FRISBIE—WEDDING FESTIVITIES—THE MASTERPIECE OF GRANDMA'S +YOUTH—SEÑORA VALLEJO—JAKIE'S RETURN—HIS DEATH—A CHEROKEE INDIAN WHO +HAD STOOD BY MY FATHER'S GRAVE<br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII"><b>CHAPTER XXVIII</b></a><br> +ELITHA, FRANCES, AND MR. MILLER VISIT US—MRS. BRUNNER CLAIMS US AS HER +CHILDREN—THE DAGUERREOTYPE<br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX"><b>CHAPTER XXIX</b></a><br> +GREAT SMALLPOX EPIDEMIC—ST. MARY'S HALL—THANKSGIVING DAY IN +CALIFORNIA—ANOTHER BROTHER-IN-LAW<br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXX"><b>CHAPTER XXX</b></a><br> +IDEALS AND LONGINGS—THE FUTURE—CHRISTMAS<br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI"><b>CHAPTER XXXI</b></a><br> +THE WIDOW STEIN AND LITTLE JOHNNIE—"DAUGHTERS OF A SAINTED +MOTHER"—ESTRANGEMENT AND DESOLATION—A RESOLUTION AND A VOW—MY PEOPLE +ARRIVE AND PLAN TO BEAR ME AWAY<br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII"><b>CHAPTER XXXII</b></a><br> +GRANDMA'S RETURN—GOOD-BYE TO THE DUMB CREATURES—GEORGIA AND I ARE OFF +FOR SACRAMENTO<br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII"><b>CHAPTER XXXIII</b></a><br> +THE PUBLIC SCHOOLS OF SACRAMENTO—A GLIMPSE OF GRANDPA—THE RANCHO DE +LOS CAZADORES—MY SWEETEST PRIVILEGE—LETTERS FROM THE BRUNNERS<br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV"><b>CHAPTER XXXIV</b></a><br> +TRAGEDY IN SONOMA—CHRISTIAN BRUNNER IN A PRISON CELL—ST. CATHERINE'S +CONVENT AT BENICIA—ROMANCE OF SPANISH CALIFORNIA—THE BEAUTIFUL ANGEL +IN BLACK—THE PRAYER OF DONA CONCEPCION ARGUELLO REALIZED—MONASTIC +RITES<br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV"><b>CHAPTER XXXV</b></a><br> +THE CHAMBERLAIN FAMILY, COUSINS OF DANIEL WEBSTER—JEFFERSON GRAMMAR +SCHOOL—FURTHER CONFLICTING ACCOUNTS OF THE DONNER PARTY—PATERNAL +ANCESTRY—S.O. HOUGHTON—DEATH TAKES ONE OF THE SEVEN SURVIVING DONNERS<br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI"><b>CHAPTER XXXVI</b></a><br> +NEWS OF THE BRUNNERS—LETTERS FROM GRANDPA<br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVII"><b>CHAPTER XXXVII</b></a><br> +ARRIVAL OF THE FIRST PONY EXPRESS<br><br> + <a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVIII"><b>CHAPTER XXXVIII</b></a><br> +WAR AND RUMORS OF WAR—MARRIAGE—SONOMA REVISITED<br><br> + <a href="#I"><b>APPENDIX I</b></a><br> +ARTICLES PUBLISHED IN <i>The California Star</i>—STATISTICS OF THE +PARTY—NOTES OF AGUILLA GLOVER—EXTRACT FROM THORNTON—RECOLLECTIONS OF +JOHN BAPTISTE TRUBODE<br><br> + <a href="#II"><b>APPENDIX II</b></a><br> +THE REED-GREENWOOD PARTY, OR SECOND RELIEF—REMINISCENCES OF WILLIAM G. +MURPHY—CONCERNING NICHOLAS CLARK AND JOHN BAPTISTE<br><br> + <a href="#III"><b>APPENDIX III</b></a><br> +THE REPORT OF THOMAS FALLON—DEDUCTIONS—STATEMENT OF EDWIN +BRYANT—PECULIAR CIRCUMSTANCES<br><br> + <a href="#IV"><b>APPENDIX IV</b></a><br> +LEWIS KESEBERG<br><br> +<a href="#INDEX"><b>INDEX</b></a><br></h4> + +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + +<br> + +<hr> + +<b>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</b><br> + +<a href="#image-1"><b>S.O. Houghton</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-2"><b>Eliza P. Donner Houghton</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-3"><b>The Camp Attacked by Indians</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-4"><b>Our Stealthy Foes</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-5"><b>Governor L.W. Boggs</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-6"><b>Corral Such as was Formed by Each Section for the Protection of its Cattle</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-7"><b>Fort Laramie as it Appeared When Visited by the Donner Party</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-8"><b>Chimney Rock</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-9"><b>John Baptiste Trubode</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-10"><b>Frances Donner (Mrs. Wm. R. Wilder)</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-11"><b>Georgia Ann Donner (Mrs. W.A. Babcock)</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-12"><b>March of the Caravan</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-13"><b>United States Troops Crossing the Desert</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-14"><b>Pass in the Sierra Nevadas of California</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-15"><b>Camp at Donner Lake, November, 1846</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-16"><b>Bear Valley, from Emigrant Gap</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-17"><b>The Trackless Mountains</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-18"><b>Sutter's Fort</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-19"><b>Sam Brannan's Store at Sutter's Fort</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-20"><b>Arrival of Relief Party, February 18, 1847</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-21"><b>Donner Lake</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-22"><b>Arrival of the Caravan at Santa Fé</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-23"><b>On the Banks of the Sacramento River</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-24"><b>Elitha Donner (Mrs. Benjamin Wilder)</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-25"><b>Leanna Donner (Mrs. John App)</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-26"><b>Mary Donner</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-27"><b>George Donner, Nephew of Capt. Donner</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-28"><b>Papooses in Bickooses</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-29"><b>Sutter's Mill, Where Marshall Discovered Gold, January 19, 1848</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-30"><b>Plaza and Barracks of Sonoma</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-31"><b>One of the Oldest Buildings in Sonoma</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-32"><b>Old Mexican Carreta</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-33"><b>Residence of Judge A.L. Rhodes, a Typical California House of the Better Class in 1849</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-34"><b>Mission San Francisco Solano, Last of the Historic Missions of California</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-35"><b>Ruins of the Mission at Sonoma</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-36"><b>Gold Rocker, Washing Pan, and Gold Borer</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-37"><b>Scene During the Rush to the Gold Mines from San Francisco, in 1848</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-38"><b>Post Office, Corner of Clay and Pike Streets, San Francisco 1849</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-39"><b>Old City Hotel, 1846, Corner of Kearney and Clay Streets, The First Hotel in San Francisco</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-40"><b>Mrs. Brunner, Georgia and Eliza Donner</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-41"><b>S.O. Houghton, Member of Col. J.D. Stevenson's First Regiment of N.Y. Volunteers</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-42"><b>Eliza P. Donner</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-43"><b>Sacramento City in the Early Fifties</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-44"><b>Front Street, Sacramento City, 1850</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-45"><b>Pines of the Sierras</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-46"><b>Col. J.D. Stevenson</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-47"><b>General John A. Sutter</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-48"><b>St. Catherine's Convent at Benicia, California</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-49"><b>Chapel, St. Catherine's Convent</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-50"><b>The Cross at Donner Lake</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-51"><b>General Vallejo's Carriage, Built in England in 1832</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-52"><b>General Vallejo's Old Jail</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-53"><b>Alder Creek</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-54"><b>Dennison's Exchange and the Parker House, San Francisco</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-55"><b>View in the Grounds of the Houghton Home in San Jose</b></a><br> +<a href="#image-56"><b>The Houghton Residence in San Jose, California</b></a><br> +<br> + +<h3>NOTE</h3> + + +<p>I wish to express my appreciation of the courtesies and assistance +kindly extended me by the following, in the preparation of the +illustrations for this book: Mr. Lynwood Abbott, "Burr-McIntosh +Magazine," Mr. J.A. Munk, donor of the Munk Library of Arizoniana to +the Southwest Museum, Mr. Hector Alliot, Curator of the Southwest +Museum, the officers and attendants of the Los Angeles Public Library, +Miss Meta C. Stofen, City Librarian, Sonoma, Cal., Miss Elizabeth +Benton Frémont, Mr. C.M. Hunt, Editor "Grizzly Bear," the Dominican +Sisters of St. Catherine's Convent at Benicia, Cal., and Mrs. C.C. +Maynard.</p> + +<p>E.P.D.H.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="THE_EXPEDITION_OF_THE_DONNER_PARTY"></a><h2>THE EXPEDITION OF THE DONNER PARTY</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_I"></a><h2>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h4>THE PACIFIC COAST IN 1845—SPEECHES OF SENATOR BENTON AND REPORT OF +CAPT. FRÉMONT—MY FATHER AND HIS FAMILY—INTEREST AWAKENED IN THE NEW +TERRITORY—FORMATION OF THE FIRST EMIGRANT PARTY FROM ILLINOIS TO +CALIFORNIA—PREPARATIONS FOR THE JOURNEY—THE START—ON THE OUTSKIRTS +OF CIVILIZATION.</h4> + +<p>Prior to the year 1845, that great domain lying west of the Rocky +Mountains and extending to the Pacific Ocean was practically unknown. +About that time, however, the spirit of inquiry was awakening. The +powerful voice of Senator <a name="IAnchorB4"></a><a href="#IndexB4">Thomas H. Benton</a> was heard, both in public +address and in the halls of Congress, calling attention to Oregon and +California. <a name="IAnchorF19"></a><a href="#IndexF19">Captain John C. Frémont's</a> +famous topographical report and +<a name="IAnchorM1"></a><a href="#IndexM1">maps</a> had been accepted by Congress, and ten thousand copies ordered to +be printed and distributed to the people throughout the United States. +The commercial world was not slow to appreciate the value of those +distant and hitherto unfrequented harbors. Tales of the equable climate +and the marvellous fertility of the soil spread rapidly, and it +followed that before the close of 1845, pioneers on the western +frontier of our ever expanding republic were preparing to open a wagon +route to the Pacific coast.</p> + +<p>After careful investigation and consideration, my father, +<a name="IAnchorD19"></a><a href="#IndexD19">George Donner</a>, +and his elder brother, <a name="IAnchorD47"></a><a href="#IndexD47">Jacob</a>, decided to join the westward +migration, selecting California as their destination. My mother was in +accord with my father's wishes, and helped him to carry out his plan.</p> + +<p>At this time he was sixty-two years of age, large, fine-looking, and in +perfect health. He was of German parentage, born of Revolutionary stock +just after the close of the war. The spirit of adventure, with which he +was strongly imbued, had led him in his youth from North Carolina, his +native State, to the land of Daniel Boone, thence to Indiana, to +Illinois, to Texas, and ultimately back to Illinois, while still in +manhood's prime.</p> + +<p>By reason of his geniality and integrity, he was widely known as "Uncle +George" in Sangamon County, Illinois, where he had broken the virgin +soil two and a half miles from Springfield, when that place was a small +village. There he built a home, acquired wealth, and took an active +part in the development of the country round about.</p> + +<p>Twice had he been married, and twice bereft by death when he met my +mother, <a name="IAnchorD30"></a><a href="#IndexD30">Tamsen Eustis Dozier</a>, then a widow, whom he married May 24, +1839. She was a native of Newburyport, Massachusetts. She was cultured, +and had been a successful teacher and writer. Their home became the +local literary centre after she was installed as its mistress.</p> + +<p>My father had two sons and eight daughters when she became his wife; +but their immediate family circle consisted only of his aged parents, +and <a name="IAnchorD9"></a><a href="#IndexD9">Elitha</a> and +<a name="IAnchorD53"></a><a href="#IndexD53">Leanna</a>, +young daughters of his second marriage, until +July 8, 1840, when blue-eyed <a name="IAnchorD16"></a><a href="#IndexD16">Frances Eustis</a> +was born to them. On the +fourth of December, 1841, brown-eyed +<a name="IAnchorD45"></a><a href="#IndexD45">Georgia Ann</a> was added to the +number; and on the eighth of March, 1843, I came into this world.</p> + +<p>I grew to be a healthy, self-reliant child, a staff to my sister +Georgia, who, on account of a painful accident and long illness during +her first year, did not learn to walk steadily until after I was strong +enough to help her to rise, and lead her to a sand pile near the +orchard, where we played away the bright days of two uneventful years.</p> + +<p>With the approaching Winter of 1845 popular interest in the great +territory to the west of us spread to our community. +<a name="IAnchorM2"></a><a href="#IndexM2">Maps</a> and reports +were eagerly studied. The few old letters which had been received from +traders and trappers along the Pacific coast were brought forth for +general perusal. The course of the reading society which met weekly at +our home was changed, in order that my mother might read to those +assembled the publications which had kindled in my father and uncle +the desire to migrate to the land so alluringly described. Prominent +among these works were +<a name="IAnchorT16"></a><a href="#IndexT16">"Travels Among the Rocky Mountains, Through Oregon and California,"</a> by + <a name="IAnchorH6"></a><a href="#IndexH6">Lansford W. Hastings</a>, and also the +<a name="IAnchorT15"></a><a href="#IndexT15">"Topographical Report, with Maps Attached,"</a> by +<a name="IAnchorF20"></a><a href="#IndexF20">Captain Frémont</a>, which +has been already mentioned.</p> + +<p><a name="IAnchorS30"></a><a href="#IndexS30"><i>The Springfield Journal</i></a>, +published by <a name="IAnchorF16"></a><a href="#IndexF16">Mr. Allen Francis</a>, appeared +with glowing editorials, strongly advocating emigration to the Pacific +coast, and its columns contained notices of companies forming in +Southern and Southwestern States, each striving to be ready to join the +"<a name="IAnchorG10"></a><a href="#IndexG10">Great Overland Caravan</a>," scheduled to leave +<a name="IAnchorI1"></a><a href="#IndexI1">Independence</a>, Missouri, +for Oregon, early in May, 1846.</p> + +<p><a name="IAnchorR1"></a><a href="#IndexR1">Mr. James F. Reed</a>, a well-known resident of Springfield, was among +those who urged the formation of a company to go directly from Sangamon +County to California. Intense interest was manifested; and had it not +been for the widespread financial depression of that year, a large +number would have gone from that vicinity. The great cost of equipment, +however, kept back many who desired to make the long journey.</p> + +<p>As it was, James F. Reed, his wife and four children, and Mrs. Keyes, +the mother of Mrs. Reed; <a name="IAnchorD48"></a><a href="#IndexD48">Jacob Donner</a>, his wife, and seven children; +and <a name="IAnchorD20"></a><a href="#IndexD20">George Donner</a>, his wife, and five children; also their teamsters +and camp assistants,—thirty-two persons all told,—constituted the +first emigrant party from Illinois to California. The plan was to join +the Oregon caravan at <a name="IAnchorI2"></a><a href="#IndexI2">Independence</a>, Missouri, continue with it to Fort +Hall, and thence follow Frémont's route to the Bay of San Francisco.</p> + +<p>The preparations made for the journey by my parents were practical. +Strong, commodious emigrant wagons were constructed especially for the +purpose. The oxen to draw them were hardy, well trained, and rapid +walkers. Three extra yoke were provided for emergencies. Cows were +selected to furnish milk on the way. A few young beef cattle, five +saddle-horses, and a good watch-dog completed the list of live stock.</p> + +<p>After carefully calculating the requisite amount of provisions, father +stored in his wagons a quantity that was deemed more than sufficient to +last until we should reach California. Seed and implements for use on +the prospective farms in the new country also constituted an important +part of our outfit. Nor was that all. There were bolts of cheap cotton +prints, red and yellow flannels, bright-bordered handkerchiefs, glass +beads, necklaces, chains, brass finger rings, earrings, pocket +looking-glasses and divers other knickknacks dear to the hearts of +aborigines. These were intended for distribution as peace offerings +among the Indians. Lastly, there were rich stores of laces, muslins, +silks, satins, velvets and like cherished fabrics, destined to be used +in exchange for <a name="IAnchorL1"></a><a href="#IndexL1">Mexican land-grants</a> in that far land to which we were +bound.</p> + +<p>My <a name="IAnchorD31"></a><a href="#IndexD31">mother</a> was energetic in all these preparations, but her special +province was to make and otherwise get in readiness a bountiful supply +of clothing. She also superintended the purchase of materials for +women's handiwork, apparatus for preserving botanical specimens, water +colors and oil paints, books and school supplies; these latter being +selected for use in the young ladies' seminary which she hoped to +establish in California.</p> + +<p>A liberal sum of money for meeting incidental expenses and replenishing +supplies on the journey, if need be, was stored in the compartments of +two wide buckskin girdles, to be worn in concealment about the person. +An additional sum of ten thousand dollars, cash, was stitched between +the folds of a quilt for safe transportation. This was a large amount +for those days, and few knew that my parents were carrying it with +them. I gained my information concerning it in later years from +<a name="IAnchorF18"></a><a href="#IndexF18">Mr. Francis</a>, to whom they showed it.</p> + +<p>To each of his grown children my father deeded a fair share of his +landed estate, reserving one hundred and ten acres near the homestead +for us five younger children, who in course of time might choose to +return to our native State.</p> + +<p>As time went on, our preparations were frequently interrupted by social +obligations, farewell visits, dinners, and other merrymakings with +friends and kindred far and near. Thursday, April 15, 1846, was the day +fixed for our departure, and the members of our household were at work +before the rosy dawn. We children were dressed early in our new linsey +travelling suits; and as the final packing progressed, we often peeped +out of the window at the three big white covered wagons that stood in +our yard.</p> + +<p>In the first were stored the merchandise and articles not to be handled +until they should reach their destination; in the second, provisions, +clothing, camp tools, and other necessaries of camp life. The third was +our family home on wheels, with feed boxes attached to the back of the +wagon-bed for Fanny and Margaret, the favorite saddle-horses, which +were to be kept ever close at hand for emergencies.</p> + +<p>Early in the day, the first two wagons started, each drawn by three +yoke of powerful oxen, whose great moist eyes looked as though they too +had parting tears to shed. The loose cattle quickly followed, but it +was well on toward noon before the family wagon was ready.</p> + +<p>Then came a pause fraught with anguish to the dear ones gathered about +the homestead to say farewell. Each tried to be courageous, but not one +was so brave as father when he bade good-bye to his friends, to his +children, and to his children's children.</p> + +<p>I sat beside my mother with my hand clasped in hers, as we slowly moved +away from that quaint old house on its grassy knoll, from the orchard, +the corn land, and the meadow; as we passed through the last pair of +bars, her clasp tightened, and I, glancing up, saw tears in her eyes +and sorrow in her face. I was grieved at her pain, and in sympathy +nestled closer to her side and sat so quiet that I soon fell asleep. +When I awoke, the sun still shone, but we had encamped for the night +on the ground where the State House of Illinois now stands.</p> + +<p><a name="IAnchorR2"></a><a href="#IndexR2">Mr. Reed</a> +and family, and my uncle <a name="IAnchorD49"></a><a href="#IndexD49">Jacob</a> and family, with their +travelling equipments and cattle, were already settled there. Under +father's direction, our own encampment was soon accomplished. By +nightfall, the duties of the day were ended, and the members of our +party gathered around one fire to spend a social hour.</p> + +<p>Presently, the clatter of galloping horses was heard, and shortly +thereafter eight horsemen alighted, and with merry greetings joined our +circle. They were part of the reading society, and had come to hold its +last reunion beside our first camp-fire. Mr. Francis was among them, +and took an inventory of the company's outfit for the benefit of the +readers of +<a name="IAnchorS31"></a><a href="#IndexS31"><i>The Springfield Journal</i></a>.</p> + +<p>They piled more wood on the blazing fire, making it a beacon light to +those who were watching from afar; they sang songs, told tales, and for +the time being drove homesickness from our hearts. Then they rode away +in the moonlight, and our past was a sweet memory, our future a +beautiful dream.</p> + +<p>William Donner, my half-brother, came to camp early next morning to +help us to get the cattle started, and to accompany us as far as the +outskirts of civilization.</p> + +<p>We reached <a name="IAnchorI3"></a><a href="#IndexI3">Independence</a>, Missouri, on the eleventh of May, with our +wagons and cattle in prime condition, and our people in the best of +spirits. Our party encamped near that bustling frontier town, and were +soon a part of the busy crowds, making ready for the great prairie on +the morrow. Teams thronged the highways; troops of men, women, and +children hurried nervously about seeking information and replenishing +supplies. Jobbers on the street were crying their wares, anxious to +sell anything or everything required, from a shoestring to a complete +outfit for a four months' journey across the plains. Beads of sweat +clung to the merchants' faces as they rushed to and fro, filling +orders. Brawny blacksmiths, with breasts bared and sleeves rolled high, +hammered and twisted red hot metal into the divers forms necessary to +repair yokes and wagons.</p> + +<p>Good fellowship prevailed as strangers met, each anxious to learn +something of those who might by chance become his neighbors in line.</p> + +<p>Among the pleasant acquaintances made that day, was +<a name="IAnchorT3"></a><a href="#IndexT3">Mr. J.Q. Thornton</a>, +a young attorney from Quincy, Illinois, who, with his invalid wife, was +emigrating to Oregon. He informed us that himself and wife and +ex-Governor <a name="IAnchorB5"></a><a href="#IndexB5">Boggs</a> and family, of Missouri, were hourly expecting +<a name="IAnchorB12"></a><a href="#IndexB12">Alphonso Boone</a>, grandson of Daniel Boone; and that as soon as Boone and +his family should arrive from Kentucky, they would all hasten on to +join <a name="IAnchorR24"></a><a href="#IndexR24">Colonel Russell's</a> +California company, which was already on the +way, but had promised to await them somewhere on the Kansas River.</p> + +<p>It was then believed that at least seven thousand emigrant wagons would +go West, through Independence, that season. Obviously the journey +should be made while pasturage and water continued plentiful along the +route. Our little party at once determined to overtake +<a name="IAnchorR25"></a><a href="#IndexR25">Colonel Russell</a> +and apply for admission to his train, and for that purpose we resumed +travel early on the morning of May twelfth.</p> + +<p>As we drove up Main Street, delayed emigrants waved us a light-hearted +good-bye, and as we approached the building of the <a name="IAnchorA4"></a><a href="#IndexA4">American Tract Society</a>, +its agent came to our wagons and put into the hand of each +child a New Testament, and gave to each adult a Bible, and also tracts +to distribute among the heathen in the benighted land to which we were +going. Near the outskirts of town we parted from William Donner, took a +last look at Independence, turned our backs to the morning sun, and +became pioneers indeed to the Far West.</p> + +<a name="image-3"><!-- Image 3 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/003.jpg" height="300" width="503" +alt="THE CAMP ATTACKED BY INDIANS"> +</center> + +<h5>THE CAMP ATTACKED BY INDIANS</h5> + +<hr> + +<a name="image-4"><!-- Image 4 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/004.jpg" height="300" width="509" +alt="OUR STEALTHY FOES"> +</center> + +<h5>OUR STEALTHY FOES</h5> + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_II"></a><h2>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h4>IN THE TERRITORY OF KANSAS—PRAIRIE SCHOONERS FROM SANTA FÉ TO +INDEPENDENCE, MO.—LIFE <i>en route</i>—THE BIG BLUE—CAMP GOVERNMENT—THE +<i>Blue Rover</i>.</h4> + +<p>During our first few days in the Territory of Kansas we passed over +good roads, and through fields of May blossoms musical with the hum of +bees and the songs of birds. Some of the party rode horseback; others +walked in advance of the train; but each father drove his own family +team. We little folk sat in the wagons with our dolls, watching the +huge white-covered "prairie schooners" coming from Santa Fé to +Independence for merchandise. We could hear them from afar, for the +great wagons were drawn by four or five span of travel-worn horses or +mules, and above the hames of each poor beast was an arch hung with +from three to five clear-toned bells, that jingled merrily as their +carriers moved along, guided by a happy-go-lucky driver, usually +singing or whistling a gleeful tune. Both man and beast looked +longingly toward the town, which promised companionship and revelry to +the one, and rest and fodder to the other.</p> + +<p>We overtook similar wagons, heavily laden with goods bound for Santa +Fé. Most of the drivers were shrewd; all of them civil. They were of +various nationalities; some comfortably clad, others in tatters, and a +few in picturesque threadbare costumes of Spanish finery. Those hardy +wayfarers gave us much valuable information regarding the route before +us, and the Indian tribes we should encounter. We were now averaging a +distance of about two and a half miles an hour, and encamping nights +where fuel and water could be obtained.</p> + +<p>Early on the nineteenth of May we reached Colonel Russel's camp on +Soldiers' Creek, a tributary of the Kansas River. The following account +of the meeting held by the company after our arrival is from the +journal of <a name="IAnchorB32"></a><a href="#IndexB32">Mr. Edwin Bryant</a>, author of +<a name="IAnchorW2"></a><a href="#IndexW2">"What I Saw in California"</a>:</p> + +<blockquote>May 19, 1846. A new census of our party was taken this morning; and +it was found to consist of 98 fighting men, 50 women, 46 wagons, and +350 cattle. Two divisions were made for convenience in travelling. +We were joined to-day by nine wagons from Illinois belonging to Mr. +Reed and Messrs. Donner, highly respectable and intelligent +gentlemen with interesting families. They were received into the +company by a unanimous vote.</blockquote> + +<p>Our cattle were allowed to rest that day; and while the men were +hunting and fishing, the women spread the family washings on the boughs +and bushes of that well-wooded stream. We children, who had been +confined to the wagon so many hours each day, stretched our limbs, and +scampered off on Mayday frolics. We waded the creek, made mud pies, and +gathered posies in the narrow glades between the cottonwood, beech, and +alder trees. <a name="IAnchorR26"></a><a href="#IndexR26">Colonel Russell</a> +was courteous to all; visited the new +members, and secured their cheerful indorsement of his carefully +prepared plan of travel. He was at the head of a representative body of +pioneers, including lawyers, journalists, teachers, students, farmers, +and day-laborers, also a minister of the gospel, a carriage-maker, a +cabinet-maker, a stonemason, a jeweller, a blacksmith, and women versed +in all branches of woman's work.</p> + +<p>The government of these emigrant trains was essentially democratic and +characteristically American. A captain was chosen, and all plans of +action and rules and regulations were proposed at a general assembly, +and accepted or rejected by majority vote. Consequently, +<a name="IAnchorR27"></a><a href="#IndexR27">Colonel Russell's</a> +function was to preside over meetings, lead the train, locate +camping ground, select crossings over fordable streams, and direct the +construction of rafts and other expedients for transportation over deep +waters.</p> + +<p>A trumpet call aroused the camp at dawn the following morning; by seven +o'clock breakfast had been cooked and served, and the company was in +marching order. The weather was fine, and we followed the trail of the +Kansas Indians, toward the Big Blue.</p> + +<p>At nooning our teams stood in line on the road chewing the cud and +taking their breathing spell, while families lunched on the grass in +restful picnic style. Suddenly a gust of wind swept by; the sky turned +a greenish gray; black clouds drifted over the face of the sun; ominous +sounds came rumbling from distant hills, and before our effects could +be collected and returned to cover, a terrific thunderstorm was upon +us.</p> + +<p>We were three hours' distance from our evening camp-ground and our +drivers had to walk and face that buffeting storm in order to keep +control of the nervous cattle. It was still raining when we reached the +knoll where we could spend the night. Our men were tired and drenched, +some of them cross; fires were out of the question until fuel could be +cut and brought from the edge of a swamp a mile from camp. When +brought, the green wood smoked so badly that suppers were late and +rather cheerless; still there was spirit enough left in those stalwart +hearts to start some mirth-provoking ditty, or indulge in good-natured +raillery over the joys and comforts of pioneering.</p> + +<p>Indians had followed our train all day, and as we had been warned +against leaving temptation within reach, the cattle were corralled +early and their guards doubled. Happily, the night passed without alarm +or losses. The following day we were joined by ex-Governor <a name="IAnchorB6"></a><a href="#IndexB6">Boggs</a> and +companions, and lost Mr. Jordan and friends of Jackson, Missouri, who +drew their thirteen wagons out of line, saying that their force was +strong enough to travel alone, and that Captain Russell's company had +become too large for rapid or convenient handling.</p> + +<p>We covered fourteen miles that day over a beautiful rolling prairie, +dotted with Indian lodges. Frequently their owners walked or rode +beside our wagons, asking for presents.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Kehi-go-wa-chuck-ee was made happy by the gift of a dozen strings +of glass beads, and the chief also kindly accepted a few trinkets and a +contribution of tobacco, and provisions, after which he made the +company understand that for a consideration payable in cotton prints, +tobacco, salt pork, and flour, he himself and his trusted braves would +become escort to the train in order to protect its cattle from harm, +and its wagons from the pilfering hands of his tribesmen. His offer was +accepted, with the condition that he should not receive any of the +promised goods until the last wagon was safe beyond his territory. This +bargain was faithfully kept, and when we parted from the +<a name="IAnchorI4"></a><a href="#IndexI4">Indians</a>, they +proceeded to immediate and hilarious enjoyment of the unwonted luxuries +thus earned.</p> + +<p>We were now in line with spring storms, which made us victims of +frequent downpours and cyclonic winds. The roads were heavy, and the +banks of streams so steep that often the wagons had to be lowered by +aid of rope and chain. Fortunately our people were able to take these +trying situations philosophically, and were ever ready to enjoy the +novelties of intervening hours of calm and sunshine.</p> + +<p>The staid and elderly matrons spent most of their time in their wagons, +knitting or patching designs for quilts. The younger ones and the girls +passed theirs in the saddle. They would scatter in groups over the +plains to investigate distant objects, then race back, and with song +and banter join husband and brother, driving the loose cattle in the +rear. The wild, free spirit of the plain often prompted them to invite +us little ones to seats behind them, and away we would canter with the +breeze playing through our hair and giving a ruddy glow to our cheeks.</p> + +<p><a name="IAnchorB33"></a><a href="#IndexB33">Mr. Edwin Bryant</a>, +<a name="IAnchorT4"></a><a href="#IndexT4">Mr. and Mrs. Thornton</a>, and my mother were +enthusiastic searchers for botanical and geological specimens. They +delved into the ground, turning over stones and scraping out the +crevices, and zealously penetrated the woods to gather mosses, roots, +and flowering plants. Of the rare floral specimens and perishable +tints, my mother made pencil and water-color studies, having in view +the book she was preparing for publication.</p> + +<p>On ascending the bluff overlooking the Big Blue, early on the afternoon +of the twenty-sixth of May, we found the river booming, and the water +still rising. Driftwood and good sized logs were floating by on a +current so strong that all hope of fording it vanished even before its +depth was measured. We encamped on the slope of the prairie, near a +timber of cottonwood, oak, beech, and sycamore trees, where a clear +brook rushed over its stony bed to join the Big Blue. Captain Russell, +with my father and other sub-leaders, examined the river banks for +marks of a ford.</p> + +<p>By sunset the river had risen twenty inches and the water at the ford +was two hundred yards in width. A general meeting was called to discuss +the situation. Many insisted that the company, being comfortably +settled, should wait until the waters receded; but the majority +agreeing with the Captain, voted to construct a raft suitable to carry +everything except the live stock, which could be forced to swim.</p> + +<p>The assembly was also called upon to settle a difference between two +members of our Oregon contingent, friendly intervention having induced +the disputants to suspend hostilities until their rights should be thus +determined. The assembly, however, instead of passing upon the matter, +appointed a committee to devise a way out of the difficulty. J.Q. +Thornton's work, +"<a name="IAnchorO3"></a><a href="#IndexO3">Oregon and California</a>," has this reference to that +committee, whose work was significant as developed by later events:</p> + +<blockquote>Ex-Governor <a name="IAnchorB7"></a><a href="#IndexB7">Boggs</a>, Mr. James F. Reed, +<a name="IAnchorD21"></a><a href="#IndexD21">Mr. George Donner</a>, and others, +myself included, convened in a tent according to appointment of a +general assembly of the emigrants, with the design of preparing a +system of laws for the purpose of preserving order, etc. We proposed +a few laws without, however, believing that they would possess much +authority. Provision was made for the appointment of a court of +arbitrators to hear and decide disputes, and to try offenders +against the peace and good order of the company.</blockquote> + +<p>The fiercest thunderstorm that we had yet experienced raged throughout +that night, and had we not been protected by the bluff on one side, and +the timber on the other, our tents would have been carried away by the +gale.</p> + +<p>The Big Blue had become so turbulent that work on the prospective craft +was postponed, and our people proceeded to make the most of the +unexpected holiday. Messrs. Grayson and Branham found a bee tree, and +brought several buckets of delicious honey into camp. Mr. Bryant +gathered a quantity of wild peas, and distributed them among the +friends who had spices to turn them into sweet pickles.</p> + +<p>The evening was devoted to friendly intercourse, and the camp was merry +with song and melodies dear to loved ones around the old hearthstones.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Captain Russell had drawn a plan of the craft that should be +built, and had marked the cottonwood trees on the river bank, half a +mile above camp, that would furnish the necessary materials.</p> + +<p>Bright and early the following morning, volunteer boat-builders went to +work with a will, and by the close of day had felled two trees about +three and a half feet in diameter, had hollowed out the trunks, and +made of them a pair of canoes twenty-five feet in length. In addition +to this, they had also prepared timbers for the frames to hold them +parallel, and insure the wagon wheels a steady place while being +ferried across the river.</p> + +<p>The workers were well satisfied with their accomplishment. There was, +however, sorrow instead of rejoicing in camp, for Mrs. Reed's aged +mother, who had been failing for some days, died that night. At two +o'clock the next afternoon, she was buried at the foot of a monarch +oak, in a neat cottonwood coffin, made by men of the party, and her +grave was marked by a headstone.</p> + +<a name="image-5"><!-- Image 5 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/005.jpg" height="397" width="300" +alt="GOVERNOR L.W. BOGGS"> +</center> + +<h5>GOVERNOR L.W. BOGGS</h5> + +<hr> +<a name="image-6"><!-- Image 6 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/006.jpg" height="300" width="678" +alt="CORRAL SUCH AS WAS FORMED BY EACH SECTION FOR THE PROTECTION OF ITS CATTLE"> +</center> + +<h5>CORRAL SUCH AS WAS FORMED BY EACH SECTION FOR THE PROTECTION OF ITS CATTLE</h5> + +<hr> + +<p>The craft being finished on the morning of the thirtieth of May, was +christened <i>Blue Rover</i>, and launched amid cheers of the company. +Though not a thing of beauty, she was destined to fulfil the +expectations of our worthy Captain. One set of guide-ropes held her in +place at the point of embarkation, while swimmers on horseback carried +another set of ropes across the river and quickly made them fast. Only +one wagon at a time could cross, and great difficulty was experienced +in getting the vehicles on and off the boat. Those working near the +bank stood in water up to their arm-pits, and frequently were in grave +peril. By the time the ninth wagon was safely landed, darkness fell.</p> + +<p>The only unforeseen delay that had occurred was occasioned by an +awkward slip of the third wagon while being landed. The <i>Blue Rover</i> +groaned under the shock, leaned to one side and swamped one of the +canoes. However, the damage was slight and easily repaired. The next +day was Sunday; but the work had to go on, and the Rev. Mr. Cornwall +was as ready for it as the rest of the toilers.</p> + +<p>Much anxiety was experienced when the cattle were forced into the +water, and they had a desperate struggle in crossing the current; but +they finally reached the opposite bank without accident. Each family +embarked in its own wagon, and the last was ferried over in the rain at +nine o'clock that night. The ropes were then detached from the <i>Blue +Rover</i>, and she drifted away in the darkness.</p> + +<p>Captain Russell had despatched matters vigorously and tactfully, and +when the labors of that day were completed, still had a word of cheer +for the shivering, hungry travellers, whom he led into camp one mile +west of the memorable Big Blue. Despite stiff joints and severe colds, +all were anxious to resume travel at the usual hour next day, June the +first.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_III"></a><h2>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h4>IN THE HAUNTS OF THE PAWNEES—LETTERS OF MRS. GEORGE DONNER—HALT AT +FORT BERNARD—SIOUX INDIANS AT FORT LARAMIE.</h4> + +<p>We were now near the haunts of the Pawnee Indians, reported to be +"vicious savages and daring thieves." Before us also stretched the +summer range of the antelope, deer, elk, and buffalo. The effort to +keep out of the way of the Pawnees, and the desire to catch sight of +the big game, urged us on at a good rate of speed, but not fast enough +to keep our belligerents on good behavior. Before night they had not +only renewed their former troubles, but come to blows, and insulted our +Captain, who had tried to separate them. How the company was relieved +of them is thus told in Mr. Bryant's Journal:</p> + +<blockquote>June 2, 1846, the two individuals at variance about their oxen and +wagon were emigrants to Oregon, and some eighteen or twenty wagons +now travelling with us were bound to the same place.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>It was proposed in order to relieve ourselves from consequences of +dispute in which we had no interest, that all Oregon emigrants +should, in respectful manner and friendly spirit, be requested to +separate themselves from the California, and start on in advance of +us. The proposition was unanimously carried; and the spirit in which +it was made prevented any bad feeling which otherwise might have +resulted from it. The Oregon emigrants immediately drew their wagons +from the corrals and proceeded on their way.</blockquote> + +<p>The Oregon company was never so far in advance that we could not hear +from it, and on various occasions, some of its members sent to us for +medicines and other necessaries.</p> + +<p>Our fear of the Pawnees diminished as we proceeded, and met in their +haunts only friendly Indians returning from the hunt, with ponies +heavily laden with packs of jerked meats and dried buffalo tongues. At +least one brave in each party could make himself understood by word or +sign. Many could pronounce the one word "hogmeat," and would show what +they had to exchange for the coveted luxury. Others also begged for +"tobac," and sugar, and generally got a little.</p> + +<p>A surprising number of trappers and traders, returning to the United +States with their stocks of peltry, camped near us from time to time. +They were glad to exchange information, and kept us posted in regard to +the condition of the migrants, and the number of wagons on the road in +advance. These rough-looking fellows courteously offered to carry the +company's mail to the nearest post-office. Mr. Bryant and my mother +availed themselves of the kindness, and sent letters to the respective +journals of which they were correspondents.</p> + +<p>Another means of keeping in touch with travelling parties in advance +was the accounts that were frequently found written on the bleaching +skulls of animals, or on trunks of trees from which the bark had been +stripped, or yet again, on pieces of paper stuck in the clefts of +sticks driven into the ground close to the trail. Thus each company +left greetings and words of cheer to those who were following. Lost +cattle were also advertised by that means, and many strays or +convalescents were found and driven forward to their owners.</p> + +<p>Early June afforded rarest sport to lovers of the chase, and our +company was kept bountifully supplied with choicest cuts of antelope, +deer, and elk meat, also juicy buffalo steak. By the middle of the +month, however, our surroundings were less favorable. We entered a +region of oppressive heat. Clouds of dust enveloped the train. Wood +became scarce, and water had to be stored in casks and carried between +supply points. We passed many dead oxen, also a number of poor cripples +that had been abandoned by their unfeeling owners. Our people, heeding +these warnings, gave our cattle extra care, and lost but few.</p> + +<p>Through the kindness of the <a name="IAnchorF17"></a><a href="#IndexF17">Hon. Allen Francis</a>, U.S. Consul at +Victoria, British Columbia, for a long term of years, and in his +earlier career editor of +<a name="IAnchorS32"></a><a href="#IndexS32"><i>The Springfield Journal</i></a>, I have in my +possession two letters written by my mother for this paper. They give a +glimpse of the party <i>en route</i>. The interval of time which elapsed +between the date of writing and that of publication indicates how much +faster our trapper letter-carriers must have travelled on horseback +than we had by ox train.</p> + +<p>The <a name="IAnchorD44"></a><a href="#IndexD44">following</a> was published on the twenty-third of July:</p> + +<blockquote>NEAR THE JUNCTION OF THE NORTH AND SOUTH PLATTE, <i>June 16, 1846</i></blockquote> + +<blockquote>MY OLD FRIEND:</blockquote> + +<blockquote>We are now on the Platte, two hundred miles from Fort Laramie. Our +journey so far has been pleasant, the roads have been good, and food +plentiful. The water for part of the way has been indifferent, but +at no time have our cattle suffered for it. Wood is now very scarce, +but "buffalo chips" are excellent; they kindle quickly and retain +heat surprisingly. We had this morning buffalo steaks broiled upon +them that had the same flavor they would have had upon hickory +coals.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>We feel no fear of Indians, our cattle graze quietly around our +encampment unmolested.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>Two or three men will go hunting twenty miles from camp; and last +night two of our men lay out in the wilderness rather than ride +their horses after a hard chase.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>Indeed, if I do not experience something far worse than I have yet +done, I shall say the trouble is all in getting started. Our wagons +have not needed much repair, and I can not yet tell in what respects +they could be improved. Certain it is, they can not be too strong. +Our preparations for the journey might have been in some respects +bettered.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>Bread has been the principal article of food in our camp. We laid in +150 pounds of flour and 75 pounds of meat for each individual, and I +fear bread will be scarce. Meat is abundant. Rice and beans are good +articles on the road; cornmeal, too, is acceptable. Linsey dresses +are the most suitable for children. Indeed, if I had one, it would +be acceptable. There is so cool a breeze at all times on the plains +that the sun does not feel so hot as one would suppose.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>We are now four hundred and fifty miles from Independence. Our route +at first was rough, and through a timbered country, which appeared +to be fertile. After striking the prairie, we found a first-rate +road, and the only difficulty we have had, has been in crossing the +creeks. In that, however, there has been no danger.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>I never could have believed we could have travelled so far with so +little difficulty. The prairie between the Blue and the Platte +rivers is beautiful beyond description. Never have I seen so varied +a country, so suitable for cultivation. Everything was new and +pleasing; the Indians frequently come to see us, and the chiefs of a +tribe breakfasted at our tent this morning. All are so friendly that +I can not help feeling sympathy and friendship for them. But on one +sheet what can I say?</blockquote> + +<blockquote>Since we have been on the Platte, we have had the river on one side +and the ever varying mounds on the other, and have travelled through +the bottom lands from one to two miles wide, with little or no +timber. The soil is sandy, and last year, on account of the dry +season, the emigrants found grass here scarce. Our cattle are in +good order, and when proper care has been taken, none have been +lost. Our milch cows have been of great service, indeed. They have +been of more advantage than our meat. We have plenty of butter and +milk.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>We are commanded by Captain Russell, an amiable man. +<a name="IAnchorD22"></a><a href="#IndexD22">George Donner</a> +is himself yet. He crows in the morning and shouts out, "Chain up, +boys! chain up!" with as much authority as though he was "something +in particular." John Denton is still with us. We find him useful in +the camp. Hiram Miller and <a name="IAnchorJ1"></a><a href="#IndexJ1">Noah James</a> are in good health and doing +well. We have of the best people in our company, and some, too, that +are not so good.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>Buffaloes show themselves frequently.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>We have found the wild tulip, the primrose, the lupine, the eardrop, +the larkspur, and creeping hollyhock, and a beautiful flower +resembling the blossom of the beech tree, but in bunches as large as +a small sugar loaf, and of every variety of shade, to red and green.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>I botanize and read some, but cook "heaps" more. There are four +hundred and twenty wagons, as far as we have heard, on the road +between here and Oregon and California.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>Give our love to all inquiring friends. God bless them. Yours truly,</blockquote> + +<blockquote>MRS. GEORGE DONNER.</blockquote> + +<p>The following extract is part of a letter which appeared in <i>The +Springfield Journal</i> of July 30, 1846<a name="FNanchor1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1"><sup>[1]</sup></a>:</p> + +<blockquote>SOUTH FORK OF THE NEBRASKA, TEN MILES FROM THE CROSSING,</blockquote> + +<blockquote><i>Tuesday, June 16, 1846</i></blockquote> + +<blockquote>DEAR FRIEND:</blockquote> + +<blockquote>To-day, at nooning, there passed, going to the States, seven men +from Oregon, who went out last year. One of them was well acquainted +with Messrs. Ide and Cadden Keyes, the latter of whom, he says, went +to California. They met the advance Oregon caravan about 150 miles +west of Fort Laramie, and counted in all, for Oregon and California +(excepting ours), 478 wagons. There are in our company over 40 +wagons, making 518 in all; and there are said to be yet 20 behind. +To-morrow we cross the river, and, by reckoning, will be over 200 +miles from Fort Laramie, where we intend to stop and repair our +wagon wheels. They are nearly all loose, and I am afraid we will +have to stop sooner, if there can be found wood suitable to heat the +tires. There is no wood here, and our women and children are out now +gathering "buffalo chips" to burn, in order to do the cooking. These +chips burn well.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>MRS. GEORGE DONNER.</blockquote> + +<p>On the eighteenth of June, Captain Russell, who had been stricken with +bilious fever, resigned his office of leader. My father and other +subordinate officers also resigned their positions. The assembly +tendered the retiring officials a vote of thanks for faithful service; +and by common consent, ex-Governor <a name="IAnchorB8"></a><a href="#IndexB8">Boggs</a> moved at the head of the train +and gave it his name.</p> + +<a name="image-7"><!-- Image 7 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/007.jpg" height="300" width="514" +alt="FORT LARAMIE AS IT APPEARED WHEN VISITED BY THE DONNER PARTY"> +</center> + +<h5>FORT LARAMIE AS IT APPEARED WHEN VISITED BY THE DONNER PARTY</h5> + +<hr> + +<a name="image-8"><!-- Image 8 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/008.jpg" height="300" width="521" +alt="CHIMNEY ROCK"> +</center> + +<h5>CHIMNEY ROCK</h5> + +<hr> + +<p>We had expected to push on to Fort Laramie without stopping elsewhere, +but when we reached Fort Bernard, a small fur-trading post ten miles +east of Fort Laramie, we learned that the +<a name="IAnchorI5"></a><a href="#IndexI5">Sioux Indians</a> were gathering +on Laramie Plain, preparing for war with the Crows, and their allies, +the Snakes; also that the emigrants already encamped there found +pasturage very short. Consequently, our train halted at this more +advantageous point, where our cattle could be sent in charge of herders +to browse along the Platte River, and where the necessary materials +could be obtained to repair the great damage which had been done to our +wagon wheels by the intense heat of the preceding weeks.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Messrs. Russell and Bryant, with six young bachelor friends, +found an opportunity to finish their journey with pack animals. They +exchanged with traders from New Mexico their wagons and teams for the +requisite number of saddle-horses, mules, pack-saddles, and other +equipment, which would enable them to reach California a month earlier +than by wagon route.</p> + +<p>Both parties broke camp at the same hour on the last day of June, they +taking the bridle trail to the right, and we turning to the left across +the ridge to Fort Laramie.</p> + +<p>Not an emigrant tent was to be seen as we approached the fort, but +bands of horses were grazing on the plain, and Indians smeared with +war-paint, and armed with hunting knives, tomahawks, bows and arrows, +were moving about excitedly. They did not appear to notice us as we +drove to the entrance of the strongly fortified walls, surrounding the +buildings of the <a name="IAnchorA3"></a><a href="#IndexA3">American Fur Company</a>, yet by the time we were ready to +depart, large crowds were standing close to our wagons to receive the +presents which our people had to distribute among them. Many of the +squaws and papooses were gorgeous in white doe skin suits, gaudily +trimmed with beads, and bows of bright ribbons. They formed a striking +contrast to us, travel-stained wayfarers in linsey dresses and +sun-bonnets. Most of the white men connected with the fort had taken +Indian wives and many little children played around their doors.</p> + +<p>Mr. Bourdeau, the general manager at the fort, explained to us that the +emigrants who had remained there up to the previous Saturday were on +that day advised by several of the Sioux chiefs, for whom he acted as +spokesman, "to resume their journey before the coming Tuesday, and to +unite in strong companies, because their people were in large force in +the hills, preparing to go out on the war-path in the country through +which the travellers had yet to pass; that they were not pleased with +the whites; that many of their warriors were cross and sulky in +anticipation of the work before them; and that any white persons found +outside the fort upon their arrival might be subject to robbery and +other bad treatment." This advice of the chiefs had awakened such fear +in the travellers that every camp-fire was deserted before sunrise the +ensuing morning. We, in turn, were filled with apprehension, and +immediately hurried onward in the ruts made by the fleeing wagons of +the previous day.</p> + +<p>Before we got out of the country of the Sioux, we were overtaken by +about three hundred mounted warriors. They came in stately procession, +two abreast; rode on in advance of our train; halted, and opened ranks; +and as our wagons passed between their lines, the warriors took from +between their teeth, green twigs, and tossed them toward us in pledge +of friendship, then turned and as quietly and solemnly as they had come +to us, rode toward the hills. A great sigh of relief expressed the +company's satisfaction at being again alone; still no one could feel +sure that we should escape a night attack. Our trail led up into the +hills, and we travelled late into the night, and were again on the way +by morning starlight. We heard wolf yelps and owl hoots in the +distance, but were not approached by prowlers of any kind.</p> + +<a name="Footnote_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor1">[1]</a><div class=note> When Mr. Francis was appointed U.S. Consul by President +Lincoln, he stored his flies of <i>The Springfield, Illinois, Journal</i>, +and upon his return from Victoria, B.C., found the files almost +destroyed by attic rodents, and my mother's earlier contributions in +verse and prose, as well as her letters while <i>en route</i> to California +were practically illegible.</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_IV"></a><h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h4>FOURTH OF JULY IN AN EMIGRANT PARTY—OPEN LETTER OF LANSFORD +HASTINGS—GEORGE DONNER ELECTED CAPTAIN OF PARTY BOUND FOR +CALIFORNIA—ENTERING THE GREAT DESERT—INSUFFICIENT SUPPLY OF +FOOD—VOLUNTEERS COMMISSIONED BY MY FATHER TO HASTEN TO SUTTER'S FORT +FOR RELIEF.</h4> + +<p>On the second of July we met Mr. Bryant returning to prevail on some +man of our company to take the place of Mr. Kendall of the bridle +party, who had heard such evil reports of California from returning +trappers that his courage had failed, and he had deserted his +companions and joined the Oregon company. Hiram Miller, who had driven +one of my father's wagons from Springfield, took advantage of this +opportunity for a faster method of travel and left with Mr. Bryant.</p> + +<p>The following evening we encamped near the re-enforced bridle party, +and on the morning of the Fourth Messrs. Russell and Bryant came over +to help us to celebrate our national holiday. A salute was fired at +sunrise, and later a platform of boxes was arranged in a grove close +by, and by half-past nine o'clock every one in camp was in holiday +attire, and ready to join the procession which marched around the camp +and to the adjacent grove. There, patriotic songs were sung, the +Declaration of Independence was read, and Colonel Russell delivered an +address. After enjoying a feast prepared by the women of the company, +and drinking to the health and happiness of friends and kindred in +reverent silence, with faces toward the east, our guests bade us a +final good-bye and godspeed.</p> + +<p>We had on many occasions entertained eastward-bound rovers whose varied +experiences on the Pacific coast made them interesting talkers. Those +who favored California extolled its excellence, and had scant praise +for Oregon. Those who loved Oregon described its marvellous advantages +over California, and urged home-seekers to select it as the wiser +choice; consequently, as we neared the parting of the ways, some of our +people were in perplexity which to choose.</p> + +<p>On the nineteenth of July we reached the Little Sandy River and there +found four distinct companies encamped in neighborly groups, among them +our friends, the Thorntons and Rev. Mr. Cornwall. Most of them were +listed for Oregon, and were resting their cattle preparatory to +entering upon the long, dry drive of forty miles, known as "Greenwood's +Cut-off."</p> + +<p>There my father and others deliberated over a new route to California.</p> + +<p>They were led to do so by "An Open Letter," which had been delivered to +our company on the seventeenth by special messenger on horseback. The +letter was written by <a name="IAnchorH7"></a><a href="#IndexH7">Lansford W. Hastings</a>, author of +<a name="IAnchorT17"></a><a href="#IndexT17">"Travel Among the Rocky Mountains, Through Oregon and California."</a> It was dated and +addressed, "At the Headwaters of the Sweetwater: To all California +Emigrants now on the Road," and intimated that, on account of war +between Mexico and the United States, the Government of California +would probably oppose the entrance of American emigrants to its +territory; and urged those on the way to California to concentrate +their numbers and strength, and to take the new and better route which +he had explored from Fort Bridger, by way of the south end of Salt +Lake. It emphasized the statement that this new route was nearly two +hundred miles shorter than the old one by way of Fort Hall and the +headwaters of Ogden's River, and that he himself would remain at Fort +Bridger to give further information, and to conduct the emigrants +through to the settlement.</p> + +<p>The proposition seemed so feasible, that after cool deliberation and +discussion, a party was formed to take the new route.</p> + +<p>My father was elected captain of this company, and from that time on it +was known as the "<a name="IAnchorD61"></a><a href="#IndexD61">Donner Party</a>." It included our original Sangamon +County folks (except Mrs. Keyes and Hiram Miller), and the following +additional members: <a name="IAnchorB13"></a><a href="#IndexB13">Patrick Breen</a>, wife, and seven children; +<a name="IAnchorK2"></a><a href="#IndexK2">Lewis Keseberg</a>, wife, and two children; +<a name="IAnchorM20"></a><a href="#IndexM20">Mrs. Lavina Murphy</a> (a widow) and five +children; <a name="IAnchorE1"></a><a href="#IndexE1">William Eddy</a>, wife, and two children; +<a name="IAnchorP2"></a><a href="#IndexP2">William Pike</a>, wife, and +two children; <a name="IAnchorF11"></a><a href="#IndexF11">William Foster</a>, +wife, and child; <a name="IAnchorM5"></a><a href="#IndexM5">William McCutchen</a>, wife, +and child; <a name="IAnchorW6"></a><a href="#IndexW6">Mr. Wolfinger</a> and wife; +<a name="IAnchorD5"></a><a href="#IndexD5">Patrick Dolan</a>, +<a name="IAnchorS33"></a><a href="#IndexS33">Charles Stanton</a>, +<a name="IAnchorS16"></a><a href="#IndexS16">Samuel Shoemaker</a>, +<a name="IAnchorH4"></a><a href="#IndexH4">—— Hardcoop</a>, +—— Spitzer, <a name="IAnchorR12"></a><a href="#IndexR12">Joseph Rhinehart</a>, +<a name="IAnchorS24"></a><a href="#IndexS24">James Smith</a>, +<a name="IAnchorH8"></a><a href="#IndexH8">Walter Herron</a>, +and <a name="IAnchorH1"></a><a href="#IndexH1">Luke Halloran</a>.</p> + +<p>While we were preparing to break camp, the last named had begged my +father for a place in our wagon. He was a stranger to our family, +afflicted with consumption, too ill to make the journey on horseback, +and the family with whom he had travelled thus far could no longer +accommodate him. His forlorn condition appealed to my parents and they +granted his request.</p> + +<p>All the companies broke camp and left the Little Sandy on the twentieth +of July. The Oregon division with a section for California took the +right-hand trail for Fort Hall; and the Donner Party, the left-hand +trail to Fort Bridger.</p> + +<p>After parting from us, Mr. Thornton made the following note in his +<a name="IAnchorT5"></a><a href="#IndexT5">journal</a>:</p> + +<blockquote>July 20, 1846. The Californians were much elated and in fine +spirits, with the prospect of better and nearer road to the country +of their destination. <a name="IAnchorD32"></a><a href="#IndexD32">Mrs. George Donner</a>, +however, was an exception. +She was gloomy, sad, and dispirited in view of the fact that her +husband and others could think of leaving the old road, and confide +in the statement of a man of whom they knew nothing, but was +probably some selfish adventurer.</blockquote> + +<p>Five days later the <a name="IAnchorD62"></a><a href="#IndexD62">Donner Party</a> reached Fort Bridger, and were +informed by Hastings's agent that he had gone forward as pilot to a +large emigrant train, but had left instructions that all later arrivals +should follow his trail. Further, that they would find "an abundant +supply of wood, water, and pasturage along the whole line of road, +except one dry drive of thirty miles, or forty at most; that they would +have no difficult cañons to pass; and that the road was generally +smooth, level, and hard."</p> + +<p>At Fort Bridger, my father took as driver for one of his wagons, +<a name="IAnchorT18"></a><a href="#IndexT18">John Baptiste Trubode</a>, +a sturdy young mountaineer, the offspring of a French +father—a trapper—and a Mexican mother. John claimed to have a +knowledge of the languages and customs of various Indian tribes through +whose country we should have to pass, and urged that this knowledge +might prove helpful to the company.</p> + +<p>The trail from the fort was all that could be desired, and on the third +of August, we reached the crossing of Webber River, where it breaks +through the mountains into the cañon. There we found a letter from +Hastings stuck in the cleft of a projecting stick near the roadside. It +advised all parties to encamp and await his return for the purpose of +showing them a better way than through the cañon of Webber River, +stating that he had found the road over which he was then piloting a +train very bad, and feared other parties might not be able to get their +wagons through the cañon leading to the valley of the Great Salt Lake.</p> + +<a name="image-9"><!-- Image 9 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/009.jpg" height="427" width="300" +alt="JOHN BAPTISTE TRUBODE"> +</center> + +<h5>JOHN BAPTISTE TRUBODE</h5> + +<hr> +<a name="image-10"><!-- Image 10 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/010.jpg" height="401" width="300" +alt="FRANCES DONNER (MRS. WM. R. WILDER)"> +</center> + +<h5>FRANCES DONNER (MRS. WM. R. WILDER)</h5> + +<hr> +<a name="image-11"><!-- Image 11 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/011.jpg" height="395" width="300" +alt="GEORGIA ANN DONNER (MRS. W.A. BABCOCK)"> +</center> + +<h5>GEORGIA ANN DONNER (MRS. W.A. BABCOCK)</h5> + +<hr> + +<p>He referred, however, to another route which he declared to be much +better, as it avoided the cañon altogether. To prevent unnecessary +delays, Messrs. Reed, <a name="IAnchorP3"></a><a href="#IndexP3">Pike</a>, +and <a name="IAnchorS34"></a><a href="#IndexS34">Stanton</a> volunteered to ride over the +new route, and, if advisable, bring Hastings back to conduct us to +the open valley. After eight days Mr. Reed returned alone, and reported +that he and his companions overtook Hastings with his train near the +south end of Salt Lake; that Hastings refused to leave his train, but +was finally induced to go with them to the summit of a ridge of the +Wahsatch Mountains and from there point out as best he could, the +directions to be followed.</p> + +<p>While exploring on the way back, Mr. Reed had become separated from +Messrs. Pike and <a name="IAnchorS35"></a><a href="#IndexS35">Stanton</a> and now feared they might be lost. He himself +had located landmarks and blazed trees and felt confident that, by +making occasional short clearings, we could get our wagons over the new +route as outlined by Hastings. Searchers were sent ahead to look up the +missing men, and we immediately broke camp and resumed travel.</p> + +<p>The following evening we were stopped by a thicket of quaking ash, +through which it required a full day's hard work to open a passageway. +Thence our course lay through a wilderness of rugged peaks and +rock-bound cañons until a heavily obstructed gulch confronted us. +Believing that it would lead out to the Utah River Valley, our men +again took their tools and became roadmakers. They had toiled six days, +when <a name="IAnchorG6"></a><a href="#IndexG6">W.F. Graves</a>, +wife, and eight children; +<a name="IAnchorF7"></a><a href="#IndexF7">J. Fosdick</a>, wife, and +child, and +<a name="IAnchorS26"></a><a href="#IndexS26">John Snyder</a>, with their teams and cattle, overtook and +joined our train. With the assistance of these three fresh men, the +road, eight miles in length, was completed two days later. It carried +us out into a pretty mountain dell, not the opening we had expected.</p> + +<p>Fortunately, we here met the searchers returning with Messrs. Pike and +<a name="IAnchorS36"></a><a href="#IndexS36">Stanton</a>. The latter informed us that we must turn back over our newly +made road and cross a farther range of peaks in order to strike the +outlet to the valley. Sudden fear of being lost in the trackless +mountains almost precipitated a panic, and it was with difficulty that +my father and other cool-headed persons kept excited families from +scattering rashly into greater dangers.</p> + +<p>We retraced our way, and after five days of alternate travelling and +road-making, ascended a mountain so steep that six and eight yoke of +oxen were required to draw each vehicle up the grade, and most careful +handling of the teams was necessary to keep the wagons from toppling +over as the straining cattle zigzaged to the summit. Fortunately, the +slope on the opposite side was gradual and the last wagon descended to +camp before darkness obscured the way.</p> + +<p>The following morning, we crossed the river which flows from Utah Lake +to Great Salt Lake and found the trail of the Hastings party. We had +been thirty days in reaching that point, which we had hoped to make in +ten or twelve.</p> + +<p>The tedious delays and high altitude wrought distressing changes in +<a name="IAnchorH2"></a><a href="#IndexH2">Mr. Halloran's</a> condition, and my father and mother watched over him with +increasing solicitude. But despite my mother's unwearying +ministrations, death came on the fourth of September.</p> + +<p>Suitable timber for a coffin could not be obtained, so his body was +wrapped in sheets and carefully enclosed in a buffalo robe, then +reverently laid to rest in a grave on the shore of Great Salt Lake, +near that of a stranger, who had been buried by the Hastings party a +few weeks earlier.</p> + +<p><a name="IAnchorH3"></a><a href="#IndexH3">Mr. Halloran</a> had appreciated the tender care bestowed upon him by my +parents, and had told members of our company that in the event of his +death on the way, his trunk and its contents, and his horse and its +equipments should belong to Captain Donner. When the trunk was opened, +it was found to contain clothing, keepsakes, a Masonic emblem, and +fifteen hundred dollars in coin.</p> + +<p>A new inventory, taken about this time, disclosed the fact that the +company's stock of supplies was insufficient to carry it through to +California. A call was made for volunteers who should hasten on +horseback to Sutter's Fort, procure supplies and, returning, meet the +train <i>en route</i>. Mr. Stanton, who was without family, and +<a name="IAnchorM6"></a><a href="#IndexM6">Mr. McCutchen</a>, whose wife and child were in the company, heroically +responded. They were furnished with necessaries for their personal +needs, and with letters to +<a name="IAnchorS42"></a><a href="#IndexS42">Captain Sutter</a>, explaining the company's +situation, and petitioning for supplies which would enable it to reach +the settlement. As the two men rode away, many anxious eyes watched +them pass out of sight, and many heartfelt prayers were offered for +their personal safety, and the success of their mission.</p> + +<p>In addressing this letter to +<a name="IAnchorS43"></a><a href="#IndexS43">Captain Sutter</a>, my father followed the +general example of emigrants to California in those days, for Sutter, +great-hearted and generous, was the man to whom all turned in distress +or emergencies. He himself had emigrated to the United States at an +early age, and after a few years spent in St. Louis, Missouri, had +pushed his way westward to California.</p> + +<p>There he negotiated with the Russian Government for its holdings on the +Pacific coast, and took them over when Russia evacuated the country. He +then established himself on the vast estates so acquired, which, in +memory of his parentage, he called New Helvetia. The Mexican +Government, however, soon assumed his liabilities to the Russian +Government, and exercised sovereignty over the territory. Sutter's +position, nevertheless, was practically that of a potentate. He +constructed the well-known fort near the present site of the city of +Sacramento, as protection against Indian depredations, and it became a +trading centre and rendezvous for incoming emigrants.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_V"></a><h2>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h4>BEWILDERING GUIDE BOARD—SOUL-TRYING STRUGGLES—FIRST SNOW—REED-SNYDER +TRAGEDY—HARDCOOP'S FATE.</h4> + +<p>Our next memorable camp was in a fertile valley where we found twenty +natural wells, some very deep and full to the brim of pure, cold water. +"They varied from six inches to several feet in diameter, the soil +around the edges was dry and hard, and as fast as water was dipped out, +a new supply rose to the surface."<a name="FNanchor2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2"><sup>[2]</sup></a> Grass was plentiful and wood +easily obtained. Our people made much of a brief stay, for though the +weather was a little sharp, the surroundings were restful. Then came a +long, dreary pull over a low range of hills, which brought us to +another beautiful valley where the pasturage was abundant, and more +wells marked the site of good camping grounds.</p> + +<p>Close by the largest well stood a rueful spectacle,—a bewildering +guide board, flecked with bits of white paper, showing that the notice +or message which had recently been pasted and tacked thereon had since +been stripped off in irregular bits.</p> + +<p>In surprise and consternation, the emigrants gazed at its blank face, +then toward the dreary waste beyond. Presently, my mother knelt before +it and began searching for fragments of paper, which she believed crows +had wantonly pecked off and dropped to the ground.</p> + +<p>Spurred by her zeal, others also were soon on their knees, scratching +among the grasses and sifting the loose soil through their fingers. +What they found, they brought to her, and after the search ended she +took the guide board, laid it across her lap, and thoughtfully, began +fitting the ragged edges of paper together and matching the scraps to +marks on the board. The tedious process was watched with spell-bound +interest by the anxious group around her.</p> + +<p>The writing was that of Hastings, and her patchwork brought out the +following words:</p> + +<p>"2 days—2 nights—hard driving—cross—desert—reach water."</p> + +<p>This would be a heavy strain on our cattle, and to fit them for the +ordeal they were granted thirty-six hours' indulgence near the bubbling +waters, amid good pasturage. Meanwhile, grass was cut and stored, water +casks were filled, and rations were prepared for desert use.</p> + +<p>We left camp on the morning of September 9, following dimly marked +wagon-tracks courageously, and entered upon the "dry drive," which +Hastings and his agent at Fort Bridger had represented as being +thirty-five miles, or forty at most. After two days and two nights of +continuous travel, over a waste of alkali and sand, we were still +surrounded as far as eye could see by a region of fearful desolation. +The supply of feed for our cattle was gone, the water casks were empty, +and a pitiless sun was turning its burning rays upon the glaring earth +over which we still had to go.</p> + +<p>Mr. Reed now rode ahead to prospect for water, while the rest followed +with the teams. All who could walk did so, mothers carrying their babes +in their arms, and fathers with weaklings across their shoulders moved +slowly as they urged the famishing cattle forward. Suddenly an outcry +of joy gave hope to those whose courage waned. A lake of shimmering +water appeared before us in the near distance, we could see the wavy +grasses and a caravan of people moving toward it.</p> + +<p>"It may be Hastings!" was the eager shout. Alas, as we advanced, the +scene vanished! A cruel mirage, in its mysterious way, had outlined the +lake and cast our shadows near its shore.</p> + +<p>Disappointment intensified our burning thirst, and my good mother gave +her own and other suffering children wee lumps of sugar, moistened with +a drop of peppermint, and later put a flattened bullet in each child's +mouth to engage its attention and help keep the salivary glands in +action.</p> + +<p>Then followed soul-trying hours. Oxen, footsore and weary, stumbled +under their yokes. Women, heartsick and exhausted, could walk no +farther. As a last resort, the men hung the water pails on their arms, +unhooked the oxen from the wagons, and by persuasion and force, drove +them onward, leaving the women and children to await their return. +Messrs. <a name="IAnchorE2"></a><a href="#IndexE2">Eddy</a> and Graves got their animals to water on the night of the +twelfth, and the others later. As soon as the poor beasts were +refreshed, they were brought back with water for the suffering, and +also that they might draw the wagons on to camp. My father's wagons +were the last taken out. They reached camp the morning of the +fifteenth.</p> + +<p>Thirty-six head of cattle were left on that desert, some dead, some +lost. Among the lost were all Mr. Reed's herd, except an ox and a cow. +His poor beasts had become frenzied in the night, as they were being +driven toward water, and with the strength that comes with madness, had +rushed away in the darkness. Meanwhile, Mr. Reed, unconscious of his +misfortune, was returning to his family, which he found by his wagon, +some distance in the rear. At daylight, he, with his wife and children, +on foot, overtook my <a name="IAnchorD52"></a><a href="#IndexD52">Uncle Jacob's</a> wagons and were carried forward in +them until their own were brought up.</p> + +<p>After hurriedly making camp, all the men turned out to hunt the Reed +cattle. In every direction they searched, but found no clue. Those who +rode onward, however, discovered that we had reached only an oasis in +the desert, and that six miles ahead of us lay another pitiless barren +stretch.</p> + +<p>Anguish and dismay now filled all hearts. Husbands bowed their heads, +appalled at the situation of their families. Some cursed Hastings for +the false statements in his open letter and for his broken pledge at +Fort Bridger. They cursed him also for his misrepresentation of the +distance across this cruel desert, traversing which had wrought such +suffering and loss. Mothers in tearless agony clasped their children to +their bosoms, with the old, old cry, "Father, Thy will, not mine, be +done."</p> + +<p>It was plain that, try as we might, we could not get back to Fort +Bridger. We must proceed regardless of the fearful outlook.</p> + +<p>After earnest consultation, it was deemed best to dig a trench and +cache all Mr. Reed's effects, except such as could be packed into one +wagon, and were essential for daily use. This accomplished, Messrs. +Graves and Breen each loaned him an ox, and these in addition to his +own ox and cow yoked together, formed his team. Upon examination, it +was found that the woodwork of all the wagons had been shrunk and +cracked by the dry atmosphere. One of Mr. Keseberg's and one of my +father's were in such bad condition that they were abandoned, left +standing near those of Mr. Reed, as we passed out of camp.</p> + +<p>The first snow of the season fell as we were crossing the narrow strip +of land upon which we had rested and when we encamped for the night on +its boundary, the waste before us was as cheerless, cold, and white as +the winding sheet which enfolds the dead.</p> + +<p>At dawn we resumed our toilful march, and travelled until four o'clock +the following morning, when we reached an extensive valley, where +grass and water were plentiful. Several oxen had died during the night, +and it was with a caress of pity that the surviving were relieved of +their yokes for the day. The next sunrise saw us on our way over a +range of hills sloping down to a valley luxuriant with grass and +springs of delicious water, where antelope and mountain sheep were +grazing, and where we saw Indians who seemed never to have met white +men before. We were three days in crossing this magnificent stretch of +country, which we called, "Valley of Fifty Springs." In it, several +wagons and large cases of goods were cached by our company, and secret +marks were put on trees near by, so that they could be recovered, +should their owners return for them.</p> + +<p>While on the desert, my father's wagons had travelled last in the +train, in order that no one should stray, or be left to die alone. But +as soon as we reached the mountainous country, he took the lead to open +the way. Uncle Jacob's wagons were always close to ours, for the two +brothers worked together, one responding when the other called for +help; and with the assistance of their teamsters, they were able to +free the trail of many obstructions and prevent unnecessary delays.</p> + +<p>From the Valley of Fifty Springs, we pursued a southerly course over +more hills, and through fertile valleys, where we saw Indians in a +state of nudity, who looked at us from a distance, but never approached +our wagons, nor molested any one. On the twenty-fourth of September, +we turned due north and found the tracks of wagon wheels, which guided +us to the valley of "Mary's River," or "Ogden's River," and on the +thirtieth, put us on the old emigrant road leading from Fort Hall. This +welcome landmark inspired us with renewed trust; and the energizing +hope that Stanton and McCutchen would soon appear, strengthened our +sorely tried courage. This day was also memorable, because it brought +us a number of Indians who must have been Frémont's guides, for they +could give information, and understand a little English. They went into +camp with us, and by word and sign explained that we were still far +from the sink of Mary's River, but on the right trail to it.</p> + +<p>After another long day's drive, we stopped on a mountain-side close to +a spring of cold, sweet water. While supper was being prepared, one of +the fires crept beyond bounds, spread rapidly, and threatened +destruction to part of our train. At the critical moment two strange +Indians rushed upon the scene and rendered good service. After the fire +was extinguished, the Indians were rewarded, and were also given a +generous meal at the tent of Mr. Graves. Later, they settled themselves +in friendly fashion beside his fire and were soon fast asleep. Next +morning, the Indians were gone, and had taken with them a new shirt and +a yoke of good oxen belonging to their host.</p> + +<p>Within the week, Indians again sneaked up to camp, and stole one of Mr. +Graves's saddle-horses. These were trials which made men swear +vengeance, yet no one felt that it would be safe to follow the +marauders. Who could know that the train was not being stealthily +followed by cunning plunderers who would await their chance to get away +with the wagons, if left weakly guarded?</p> + +<p>Conditions now were such that it seemed best to divide the train into +sections and put each section under a sub-leader. Our men were well +equipped with side arms, rifles, and ammunition; nevertheless, anxious +moments were common, as the wagons moved slowly and singly through +dense thickets, narrow defiles, and rugged mountain gorges, one section +often being out of sight of the others, and each man realizing that +there could be no concerted action in the event of a general attack; +that each must stay by his own wagon and defend as best he could the +lives committed to his care. No one rode horseback now, except the +leaders, and those in charge of the loose cattle. When darkness +obscured the way, and after feeding-time, each section formed its +wagons into a circle to serve as cattle corral, and night watches were +keenly alert to give a still alarm if anything unusual came within +sight or sound.</p> + +<p>Day after day, from dawn to twilight, we moved onward, never stopping, +except to give the oxen the necessary nooning, or to give them drink +when water was available. Gradually, the distance between sections +lengthened, and so it happened that the wagons of my father and my +uncle were two days in advance of the others, on the eighth of October, +when Mr. Reed, on horseback, overtook us. He was haggard and in great +tribulation. His lips quivered as he gave substantially the following +account of circumstances which had made him the slayer of his friend, +and a lone wanderer in the wilderness.</p> + +<p>On the morning of October 5, when Mr. Reed's section broke camp, he and +<a name="IAnchorE3"></a><a href="#IndexE3">Mr. Eddy</a> ventured off to hunt antelope, and were shot at a number of +times by Indians with bows and arrows. Empty-handed and disappointed, +the two followed and overtook their companions about noon, at the foot +of a steep hill near "Gravelly Ford," where the teams had to be doubled +for the ascent. All the wagons, except Pike's and Reed's, and one of +Graves's in charge of +<a name="IAnchorS27"></a><a href="#IndexS27">John Snyder</a>, had already been taken to the top. +Snyder was in the act of starting his team, when Milton Elliot, driving +Reed's oxen, with Eddy's in the lead, also started. Suddenly, the Reed +and Eddy cattle became unmanageable, and in some way got mixed up with +Snyder's team. This provoked both drivers, and fierce words passed +between them. Snyder declared that the Reed team ought to be made to +drag its wagon up without help. Then he began to beat his own cattle +about the head to get them out of the way.</p> + +<p><a name="IAnchorR3"></a><a href="#IndexR3">Mr. Reed</a> attempted to remonstrate with him for his cruelty, at which +Snyder became more enraged, and threatened to strike both Reed and +Elliot with his whip for interfering. Mr. Reed replied sharply that +they would settle the matter later. This, Synder took as a threat, and +retorted, "No, we'll settle it right here," and struck Reed over the +head with the butt end of his whip, cutting an ugly scalp wound.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Reed, who rushed between the two men for the purpose of separating +them, caught the force of the second blow from Snyder's whip on her +shoulder. While dodging the third blow, Reed drew his hunting knife and +stabbed Snyder in the left breast. Fifteen minutes later, John Snyder, +with his head resting on the arm of William Graves, died, and Mr. Reed +stood beside the corpse, dazed and sorrowful.</p> + +<p>Near-by sections were immediately called into camp, and gloom, +consternation, and anger pervaded it. Mr. Reed and family were taken to +their tent some distance from the others and guarded by their friends. +Later, an assembly was convened to decide what should be done. The +majority declared the deed murder, and demanded retribution. Mr. Eddy +and others pleaded extenuating circumstances and proposed that the +accused should leave the camp. After heated discussion this compromise +was adopted, the assembly voting that Mr. Reed should be banished from +the company.</p> + +<p>Mr. Reed maintained that the deed was not prompted by malice, that he +had acted in self-defence and in defence of his wife; and that he would +not be driven from his helpless, dependent family. The assembly +promised that the company would care for his family, and limited his +stay in camp. His wife, fearing the consequence of noncompliance with +the sentence, begged him to abide by it, and to push on to the +settlement, procure food and assistance, and return for her and their +children. The following morning, after participating in the funeral +rites over the lamented dead, Mr. Reed took leave of his friends and +sorrowing family and left the camp.</p> + +<p>The group around my father's wagon were deeply touched by Mr. Reed's +narrative. Its members were friends of the slain and of the slayer. +Their sympathies clustered around the memory of the dead, and clung to +the living. They deplored the death of a fellow traveller, who had +manfully faced many hardships, and was young, genial, and full of +promise. They regretted the act which took from the company a member +who had been prominent in its organization, had helped to formulate its +rules, and had, up to that unfortunate hour, been a co-worker with the +other leading spirits for its best interests. It was plain that the +hardships and misfortunes of the journey had sharpened the tempers of +both men, and the vexations of the morning had been too much for the +overstrained nerves.</p> + +<p>Mr. Reed breakfasted at our tent, but did not continue his journey +alone. <a name="IAnchorH9"></a><a href="#IndexH9">Walter Herron</a>, one of my father's helpers, decided to accompany +him, and after hurried preparations, they went away together, bearing +an urgent appeal from my father to Captain Sutter for necessary teams +and provisions to carry the company through to California, also his +personal pledge in writing that he would be responsible for the payment +of the debt as soon as he should reach the settlement. My father +believed the two men would reach their destination long before the +slowly moving train.</p> + +<p>Immediately after the departure of Messrs. Reed and Herron, our wagons +moved onward. Night overtook us at a gruesome place where wood and feed +were scarce and every drop of water was browned by alkali. There, +hungry wolves howled, and there we found and buried the bleaching bones +of Mr. Sallé, a member of the Hastings train, who had been shot by +Indians. After his companions had left his grave, the savages had +returned, dug up the body, robbed it of its clothing, and left it to +the wolves.</p> + +<p>At four o'clock the following morning, October 10, the rest of the +company, having travelled all night, drove into camp. Many were in a +state of great excitement, and some almost frenzied by the physical and +mental suffering they had endured. Accounts of the Reed-Snyder tragedy +differed somewhat from that we had already heard. The majority held +that the assembly had been lenient with Mr. Reed and considerate for +his family; that the action taken had been largely influenced by rules +which Messrs. Reed, Donner, Thornton, and others had suggested for the +government of Colonel Russell's train, and that there was no occasion +for criticism, since the sentence was for the transgression, and not +for the individual.</p> + +<p>The loss of aged <a name="IAnchorH5"></a><a href="#IndexH5">Mr. Hardcoop</a>, whose fate was sealed soon after the +death of John Synder, was the subject of bitter contention. The old man +was travelling with the Keseberg family, and, in the heavy sand, when +that family walked to lighten the load, he was required to do likewise. +The first night after leaving Gravelly Ford, he did not come into camp +with the rest. The company, fearing something amiss, sent a man on +horseback to bring him in. He was found five miles from camp, +completely exhausted and his feet in a terrible condition.</p> + +<p>The following morning, he again started with Keseberg, and when the +section had been under way only a short time, the old man approached +<a name="IAnchorE4"></a><a href="#IndexE4">Mr. Eddy</a> and begged for a place in some other wagon, saying he was sick +and exhausted, and that Keseberg had put him out to die. The road was +still through deep, loose sand, and Mr. Eddy told him if he would only +manage to go forward until the road should be easier on the oxen, he +himself would take him in. Hardcoop promised to try, yet the roads +became so heavy that progress was yet slower and even the small +children were forced to walk, nor did any one see when Mr. Hardcoop +dropped behind.</p> + +<p>Mr. Eddy had the first watch that night, and kept a bright fire burning +on the hillside in hopes that it would guide the belated into camp. +Milton Elliot went on guard at midnight, and kept the fire till +morning, yet neither sign nor sound of the missing came over that +desolate trail.</p> + +<p>In vain the watchers now besought Keseberg to return for Hardcoop. Next +they applied to Messrs. Graves and Breen, who alone had saddle horses +able to carry the helpless man, but neither of them would risk his +animals again on that perilous road. In desperation, +<a name="IAnchorP4"></a><a href="#IndexP4">Messrs. William Pike</a>, +Milton Elliot, and William Eddy proposed to go out afoot and +carry him in, if the wagons would wait. Messrs. Graves and Breen, +however, in language so plain and homely that it seemed heartless, +declared that it was neither the voice of common sense, nor of humanity +that asked the wagons to wait there in the face of danger, while three +foolhardy men rushed back to look for a helpless one, whom they had +been unable to succor on the previous day, and for whom they could make +no provision in the future, even if they should succeed then in +snatching him from the jaws of death.</p> + +<p>This exposition of undeniable facts defeated the plans of the would-be +rescuers, yet did not quiet their consciences. When the section halted +at noon, they again begged, though in vain, for horses which might +enable them to do something for their deserted companion.</p> + +<p>My father listened thoughtfully to the accounts of that harrowing +incident, and although he realized that death must have ended the old +man's sufferings within a few hours after he dropped by the wayside, he +could not but feel deeply the bitterness of such a fate.</p> + +<p>Who could peer into the near future and read between its lines the +greater suffering which Mr. Hardcoop had escaped, or the trials in +store for us?</p> + +<p>We were in close range of ambushed savages, lying in wait for spoils. +While the company were hurrying to get into marching order, Indians +stole a milch cow and several horses belonging to Mr. Graves. +Emboldened by success, they made a raid on our next camp and stampeded +a bunch of eighteen horned cattle belonging to +<a name="IAnchorW7"></a><a href="#IndexW7">Mr. Wolfinger</a> and my +father and Uncle Jacob, and also flesh-wounded several poor beasts with +arrows. These were more serious hindrances than we had yet experienced. +Still, undaunted by the alarming prospects before us, we immediately +resumed travel with cows under yoke in place of the freshly injured +oxen.</p> + +<a name="Footnote_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor2">[2]</a><div class=note> Thornton.</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_VI"></a><h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h4>INDIAN DEPREDATIONS—WOLFINGER'S DISAPPEARANCE—STANTON RETURNS WITH +SUPPLIES FURNISHED BY CAPTAIN SUTTER—DONNER WAGONS SEPARATED FROM +TRAIN FOREVER—TERRIBLE PIECE OF NEWS—FORCED INTO SHELTER AT DONNER +LAKE—DONNER CAMP ON PROSSER CREEK.</h4> + +<p>All who managed to get beyond the sink of Ogden's River before midnight +of October 12, reached Geyser Springs without further molestation, but +the belated, who encamped at the sink were surprised at daylight by the +<a name="IAnchorI6"></a><a href="#IndexI6">Indians</a>, who, while the herders were hurriedly taking a cup of coffee, +swooped down and killed twenty-one head of cattle. Among the number +were all of <a name="IAnchorE5"></a><a href="#IndexE5">Mr. Eddy's</a> stock, except an ox and a cow that would not +work together. Maddened by his appalling situation, Eddy called for +vengeance on his despoilers, and would have rushed to certain death, if +the breaking of the lock of his rifle at the start had not stopped him.</p> + +<blockquote><a name="IAnchorT6"></a><a href="#IndexT6">Sullen</a> and dejected, he cached the contents of his wagons, and with +a meagre supply of food in a pack on his back, he and his wife, each +carrying a child, set forth to finish the journey on foot. To add to +their discomfort, they saw Indians on adjacent hills dancing and +gesticulating in savage delight. In relating the above occurrence +after the journey was finished, Mr. Eddy declared that no language +could portray the desolation and heartsick feeling, nor the physical +and mental torture which he and his wife experienced while +travelling between the sink of Ogden's River and the Geyser +Springs.<a name="FNanchor3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3"><sup>[3]</sup></a></blockquote> + +<p>It was during that trying week that Mr. Wolfinger mysteriously +disappeared. At the time, he and Keseberg, with their wagons, were at +the rear of the train, and their wives were walking in advance with +other members of the company. When camp was made, those two wagons were +not in sight, and after dark the alarmed wives prevailed on friends to +go in search of their missing husbands. The searchers shortly found +Keseberg leisurely driving toward camp. He assured them that Wolfinger +was not far behind him, so they returned without further search.</p> + +<p>All night the frantic wife listened for the sound of the coming of her +husband, and so poignant was her grief that at break of day, William +Graves, Jr., and two companions went again in search of Mr. Wolfinger. +Five or six miles from camp, they came upon his tenantless wagon, with +the oxen unhooked and feeding on the trail near-by. Nothing in the +wagon had been disturbed, nor did they find any sign of struggle, or of +Indians. After a diligent search for the missing man, his wagon and +team was brought to camp and restored to Mrs. Wolfinger, and she was +permitted to believe that her husband had been murdered by Indians and +his body carried off. Nevertheless, some suspected Keseberg of having +had a hand in his disappearance, as he knew that Mr. Wolfinger carried +a large sum of money on his person.</p> + +<p>Three days later Rhinehart and Spitzer, who had not been missed, came +into camp, and Mrs. Wolfinger was startled to recognize her husband's +gun in their possession. They explained that they were in the wagon +with Mr. Wolfinger when the Indians rushed upon them, drove them off, +killed Wolfinger and burned the wagon. My father made a note of this +conflicting statement to help future investigation of the case.</p> + +<p>At Geyser Springs, the company cached valuable goods, among them +several large cases of books and other heavy articles belonging to my +father. As will be seen later, the load in our family wagon thus +lightened through pity for our oxen, also lessened the severity of an +accident which otherwise might have been fatal to Georgia and me.</p> + +<p>On the nineteenth of October, near the present site of Wadsworth, +Nevada, we met Mr. Stanton returning from Sutter's Fort with two Indian +herders driving seven mules, laden with flour and jerked beef. Their +arrival was hailed with great joy, and after a brief consultation with +my father, Stanton and his Indians continued toward the rear, in order +to distribute first to those most in need of provisions, also that the +pack animals might be the sooner set apart to the use of those whose +teams had given out, or had been destroyed by Indians.</p> + +<a name="image-12"><!-- Image 12 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/012.jpg" height="300" width="511" +alt="MARCH OF THE CARAVAN"> +</center> + +<h5>MARCH OF THE CARAVAN</h5> + +<hr> +<a name="image-13"><!-- Image 13 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/013.jpg" height="300" width="516" +alt="UNITED STATES TROOPS CROSSING THE DESERT"> +</center> + +<h5>UNITED STATES TROOPS CROSSING THE DESERT</h5> + +<hr> + +<p>Mr. Stanton had left Mr. McCutchen sick at Sutter's Fort. He brought +information also concerning Messrs. Reed and Herron, whom he had met +in the Sacramento valley. At the time of meeting, they were quite a +distance from the settlement, had been without food three days, and Mr. +Reed's horse was completely worn out. Mr. Stanton had furnished Mr. +Reed with a fresh mount, and provisions enough to carry both men to +Sutter's Fort.</p> + +<p>In camp that night, Mr. Stanton outlined our course to the settlement, +and in compliance with my father's earnest wish, consented to lead the +train across the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Frost in the air and snow on +the distant peaks warned us against delays; yet, notwithstanding the +need of haste, we were obliged to rest our jaded teams. Three yoke of +oxen had died from exhaustion within a week, and several of those +remaining were not in condition to ascend the heavy grades before them.</p> + +<p>On the twentieth, Mr. Pike met death in his own tent by the accidental +discharge of a six-shooter in the hands of Mr. Foster, his +brother-in-law. He left a young wife, and two small children, Naomi, +three years of age, and Catherine, a babe in arms. His loss was keenly +felt by the company, for he was highly esteemed.</p> + +<p>We broke camp on the twenty-second, and my father and uncle took our +wagons to the rear of the train in order to favor our cattle, and also +to be near families whose teams might need help in getting up the +mountains. That day we crossed the Truckee River for the forty-ninth +and last time in eighty miles, and encamped for the night at the top +of a high hill, where we received our last experience of Indian +cruelty. The perpetrator was concealed behind a willow, and with savage +vim and well trained hand, sent nineteen arrows whizzing through the +air, and each arrow struck a different ox. <a name="IAnchorE6"></a><a href="#IndexE6">Mr. Eddy</a> caught him in the +act; and as he turned to flee, the white man's rifle ball struck him +between the shoulders and pierced his body. With a spring into the air +and an agonizing shriek, he dropped lifeless into the bushes below. +Strange, but true, not an ox was seriously hurt!</p> + +<p>The train took the trail early next morning, expecting to cross the +summit of the Sierras and reach California in less than two weeks.</p> + +<p>The following circumstances, which parted us forever from the train +which father had led through so many difficulties, were told me by my +sister, <a name="IAnchorD10"></a><a href="#IndexD10">Mrs. Elitha C. Wilder</a>, now of Bruceville, California:</p> + +<blockquote>Our five Donner wagons, and Mrs. Wolfinger's wagon, were a day or +more behind the train, and between twelve and sixteen miles from the +spot where we later made our winter camp, when an accident happened +which nearly cost us your life, and indirectly prevented our +rejoining the train. Your mother and Frances were walking on ahead; +you and Georgia were asleep in the wagon; and father was walking +beside it, down a steep hill. It had almost reached the base of the +incline when the axle to the fore wheels broke, and the wagon tipped +over on the side, tumbling its contents upon you two children. +Father and uncle, in great alarm, rushed to your rescue. Georgia was +soon hauled out safely through the opening in the back of the wagon +sheets, but you were nowhere in sight, and father was sure you were +smothering because you did not answer his call. They worked +breathlessly getting things out, and finally uncle came to your limp +form. You could not have lasted much longer, they said. How +thankful we all were that our heaviest boxes had been cached at +Geyser Springs!</blockquote> + +<blockquote>Much as we felt the shock, there was little time for +self-indulgence. Never were moments of greater importance; for while +father and uncle were hewing a new axle, two men came from the head +of the company to tell about the snow. It was a terrible piece of +news!</blockquote> + +<p>Those men reported that on the twenty-eighth of that month the larger +part of the train had reached a deserted cabin near Truckee Lake (the +sheet of water now known as Donner Lake) at the foot of Frémont's Pass +in the main chain of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. The following morning +they had proceeded to within three miles of the summit; but finding +snow there five feet in depth, the trail obliterated, and no place for +making camp, they were obliged to return to the spot they had left +early in the day. There, they said, the company had assembled to +discuss the next move, and great confusion prevailed as the excited +members gave voice to their bitterest fears. Some proposed to abandon +the wagons and make the oxen carry out the children and provisions; +some wanted to take the children and rations and start out on foot; and +some sat brooding in dazed silence through the long night.</p> + +<p>The messengers further stated that on the thirtieth, with Stanton as +leader, and despite the falling sleet and snow, the forward section of +the party united in another desperate effort to cross the summit, but +encountered deeper drifts and greater difficulties. As darkness crept +over the whitened waste, wagons became separated and lodged in the +snow; and all had to cling to the mountain-side until break of day, +when the train again returned to its twice abandoned camp, having been +compelled, however, to leave several of the wagons where they had +become stalled. The report concluded with the statement that the men at +once began log-cutting for cabins in which the company might have to +pass the winter.</p> + +<p>After the messengers left, and as father and Uncle Jacob were hastening +preparations for our own departure, new troubles beset us. Uncle was +giving the finishing touches to the axle, when the chisel he was using +slipped from his grasp, and its keen edge struck and made a serious +wound across the back of father's right hand which was steadying the +timber. The crippled hand was carefully dressed, and to quiet uncle's +fears and discomfort, father made light of the accident, declaring that +they had weightier matters for consideration than cuts and bruises. The +consequences of that accident, however, were far more wide-reaching +than could have been anticipated.</p> + +<p>Up and up we toiled until we reached an altitude of six thousand feet, +and were within about ten miles of our companions at the lake, when the +intense cold drove us into camp on Prosser Creek in Alder Creek Valley, +a picturesque and sheltered nook two and a half miles in length and +three-quarters of a mile in width. But no one observed the picturesque +grandeur of the forest-covered mountains which hem it in on the north +and west; nor that eastward and southward it looks out across plateaus +to the Washoe Mountains twenty miles away.</p> + +<p>A piercing wind was driving storm-clouds toward us, and those who +understood their threatening aspect realized that twenty-one persons, +eight of them helpless children, were there at the mercy of the +pitiless storm-king.</p> + +<p>The teams were hurriedly unhooked, the tents pitched, and the men and +the women began collecting material for more suitable quarters. Some +felled trees, some lopped off the branches, and some, with oxen, +dragged the logs into position. There was enough building material on +the ground for a good sized foundation four logs deep, when night +stopped the work. The moon and stars came out before we went to bed, +yet the following morning the ground was covered with snow two or three +feet in depth, which had to be shovelled from the exposed beds before +their occupants could rise.</p> + +<p>I remember well that new day. All plans for log cabins had to be +abandoned. There was no sheltered nook for shivering children, so +father lifted Georgia and me on to a log, and mother tucked a buffalo +robe around us, saying, "Sit here until we have a better place for +you." There we sat snug and dry, chatting and twisting our heads about, +watching the hurrying, anxious workers. Those not busy at the wagons +were helping the builders to construct a permanent camp.</p> + +<p>They cleared a space under a tall pine tree and reset the tent a few +feet south of its trunk, facing the sunrise. Then, following the +Indian method as described by +<a name="IAnchorT19"></a><a href="#IndexT19">John Baptiste</a>, a rude semi-circular hut +of poles was added to the tent, the tree-trunk forming part of its +north wall, and its needled boughs, the rafters and cross-pieces to the +roof. The structure was overlaid so far as possible with pieces of +cloth, old quilts, and buffalo robes, then with boughs and branches of +pine and tamarack. A hollow was scooped in the ground near the tree for +a fireplace, and an opening in the top served as chimney and +ventilator. One opening led into the tent and another served as an +outer door.</p> + +<p>To keep the beds off the wet earth, two rows of short posts were driven +along the sides in the tent, and poles were laid across the tops, thus +forming racks to support the pine boughs upon which the beds should be +made. While this was being done, Elitha, Leanna, and Mrs. Wolfinger +were bringing poles and brush with which to strengthen and sheath the +tent walls against wind and weather. Even Sister Frances looked tall +and helpful as she trudged by with her little loads.</p> + +<p>The combination of tent and hut was designed for my father and family +and Mrs. Wolfinger. The teamsters, +<a name="IAnchorS17"></a><a href="#IndexS17">Samuel Shoemaker</a>, Joseph Rhinehart, +<a name="IAnchorS25"></a><a href="#IndexS25">James Smith</a>, +and John Baptiste, built their hut in Indian wigwam +fashion. Not far from us, across the stream, braced against a log, was +reared a mixed structure of brush and tent for use of Uncle Jacob, Aunt +Betsy, and William and <a name="IAnchorH10"></a><a href="#IndexH10">Solomon Hook</a> +(Aunt Betsy's sons by a former +husband), and their five small children, George, Mary, Isaac, Lewis, +and Samuel Donner.</p> + +<p>Before we two could leave our perch, the snow was falling faster and in +larger flakes. It made pictures for Georgia and me upon the branches of +big and little trees; it gathered in a ridge beside us upon the log; it +nestled in piles upon our buffalo robe; and by the time our quarters +were finished, it was veiling Uncle Jacob's from view. Everything +within was cold, damp, and dreary, until our tired mother and elder +sisters built the fire, prepared our supper, and sent us to bed, each +with a lump of loaf sugar as comforter.</p> + +<a name="Footnote_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor3">[3]</a><div class=note> Thornton.</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_VII"></a><h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h4>SNOWBOUND—SCARCITY OF FOOD AT BOTH CAMPS—WATCHING FOR RETURN OF +M'CUTCHEN AND REED.</h4> + +<p>When we awoke the following morning, little heaps of snow lay here and +there upon the floor. No threshold could be seen, only a snow-bank +reaching up to the white plain beyond, where every sound was muffled, +and every object was blurred by falling flakes.</p> + +<p>Father's face was very grave. His morning caress had all its wonted +tenderness, but the merry twinkle was gone from his eye, and the +gladsome note from his voice. For eight consecutive days, the fatal +snow fell with but few short intermissions. Eight days, in which there +was nothing to break the monotony of torturing, inactive endurance, +except the necessity of gathering wood, keeping the fires, and cutting +anew the steps which led upward, as the snow increased in depth. Hope +well-nigh died within us.</p> + +<p>All in camp fared alike, and all were on short rations. Three of our +men became dispirited, said that they were too weak and hungry to +gather wood, and did not care how soon death should put an end to their +miseries.</p> + +<p>The out-of-door duties would have fallen wholly upon my Aunt Betsy's +two sons and on John Baptiste and on my crippled father, had the women +lost their fortitude. They, however, hid their fears from their +children, even from each other, and helped to gather fuel, hunt cattle, +and keep camp.</p> + +<p>Axes were dull, green wood was hard to cut, and harder to carry, +whether through loose, dry snow, or over crusts made slippery by sleet +and frost. Cattle tracks were covered over. Some of the poor creatures +had perished under bushes where they sought shelter. A few had become +bewildered and strayed; others were found under trees in snow pits, +which they themselves had made by walking round and round the trunks to +keep from being snowed under. These starvelings were shot to end their +sufferings, and also with the hope that their hides and fleshless bones +might save the lives of our snow-beleaguered party. Every part of the +animals was saved for food. The locations of the carcasses were marked +so that they could be brought piece by piece into camp; and even the +green hides were spread against the huts to serve in case of need.</p> + +<p>After the storm broke, John Baptiste was sent with a letter from my +mother to the camp near the lake. He was absent a number of days, for +upon his arrival there, he found a party of fourteen ready to start +next morning, on foot, across the summit. He joined it, but after two +days of vain effort, the party returned to camp, and he came back to us +with an answer to the letter he had delivered.</p> + +<p>We then learned that most of those at the lake were better housed than +we. Some in huts, and the rest in three log structures, which came to +be known respectively as the Murphy, Graves, and Breen cabins. The last +mentioned was the relic of earlier travellers<a name="FNanchor4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4"><sup>[4]</sup></a> and had been grizzled +by the storms of several winters. Yet, despite their better +accommodations, our companions at the lake were harassed by fears like +ours. They too were short of supplies. The game had left the mountains, +and the fish in the lake would not bite.</p> + +<p>Different parties, both with and without children, had repeatedly +endeavored to force their way out of that wilderness of snow, but each +in turn had become confused, and unconsciously moved in a circle back +to camp. Several persons had become snow-blind. Every landmark was +lost, even to Stanton, who had twice crossed the range.</p> + +<p>All now looked to the coming of +<a name="IAnchorM7"></a><a href="#IndexM7">McCutchen</a> and +<a name="IAnchorR4"></a><a href="#IndexR4">Reed</a> for deliverance. We +had every reason to expect them soon, for each had left his family with +the company, and had promised to return with succor. Moreover, Stanton +had brought tidings that the timely assistance of himself and comrade +had enabled Reed to reach Sutter's Fort in safety; and that McCutchen +would have accompanied him back, had he not been detained by illness.</p> + +<p>Well, indeed, was it that we could not know that at the very time we +were so anxiously awaiting their arrival, those two men, after +struggling desperately to cross the snows, were finally compelled to +abandon the attempt, bury the precious food they had striven to bring +us, and return to the settlement.</p> + +<p>It was also well that we were unaware of their baffling fears, when the +vigorous efforts incited by the memorial presented by Reed to Commodore +Stockton, the military Governor of California, were likewise frustrated +by mountain storms.</p> + +<a name="Footnote_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor4">[4]</a><div class=note> Built by Townsend party in 1844. See McGlashan's "History +of the Donner Party."</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_VIII"></a><h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h4>ANOTHER STORM—FOUR DEATHS IN DONNER CAMP—FIELD MICE USED FOR +FOOD—CHANGED APPEARANCE OF THE STARVING—SUNSHINE—DEPARTURE OF THE +"FORLORN HOPE"—WATCHING FOR RELIEF—IMPOSSIBLE TO DISTURB THE BODIES +OF THE DEAD IN DONNER CAMP—ARRIVAL AND DEPARTURE OF THE FIRST RELIEF +PARTY.</h4> + +<p>Meanwhile with us in the Sierras, November ended with four days and +nights of continuous snow, and December rushed in with a wild, +shrieking storm of wind, sleet, and rain, which ceased on the third. +The weather remained clear and cold until the ninth, when Milton Elliot +and Noah James came on snowshoes to Donner's camp, from the lake +cabins, to ascertain if their captain was still alive, and to report +the condition of the rest of the company.</p> + +<p>Before morning, another terrific storm came swirling and whistling down +our snowy stairway, making fires unsafe, freezing every drop of water +about the camp, and shutting us in from the light of heaven. Ten days +later Milton Elliot alone fought his way back to the lake camp with +these tidings: "<a name="IAnchorD50"></a><a href="#IndexD50">Jacob Donner</a>, +Samuel Shoemaker, <a name="IAnchorR13"></a><a href="#IndexR13">Joseph Rhinehart</a>, and +James Smith are dead, and the others in a low condition."<a name="FNanchor5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5"><sup>[5]</sup></a></p> + +<p>Uncle Jacob, the first to die, was older than my father, and had been +in miserable health for years before we left Illinois. He had gained +surprisingly on the journey, yet quickly felt the influence of +impending fate, foreshadowed by the first storm at camp. His courage +failed. Complete prostration followed.</p> + +<p>My father and mother watched with him during the last night, and the +following afternoon helped to lay his body in a cave dug in the +mountain side, beneath the snow. That snow had scarcely resettled when +Samuel Shoemaker's life ebbed away in happy delirium. He imagined +himself a boy again in his father's house and thought his mother had +built a fire and set before him the food of which he was fondest.</p> + +<p>But when Joseph Rhinehart's end drew near, his mind wandered, and his +whitening lips confessed a part in Mr. Wolfinger's death; and my +father, listening, knew not how to comfort that troubled soul. He could +not judge whether the self-condemning words were the promptings of a +guilty conscience, or the ravings of an unbalanced mind.</p> + +<p>Like a tired child falling asleep, was James Smith's death; and Milton +Elliot, who helped to bury the four victims and then carried the +distressing report to the lake camp, little knew that he would soon be +among those later called to render a final accounting. Yet it was even +so.</p> + +<p>Our camp having been thus depleted by death, Noah James, who had been +one of my father's drivers, from Springfield until we passed out of the +desert, now cast his lot again with ours, and helped John Baptiste to +dig for the carcasses of the cattle. It was weary work, for the snow +was higher than the level of the guide marks, and at times they +searched day after day and found no trace of hoof or horn. The little +field mice that had crept into camp were caught then and used to ease +the pangs of hunger. Also pieces of beef hide were cut into strips, +singed, scraped, boiled to the consistency of glue, and swallowed with +an effort; for no degree of hunger could make the saltless, sticky +substance palatable. Marrowless bones which had already been boiled and +scraped, were now burned and eaten, even the bark and twigs of pine +were chewed in the vain effort to soothe the gnawings which made one +cry for bread and meat.</p> + +<p>During the bitterest weather we little ones were kept in bed, and my +place was always in the middle where Frances and Georgia, snuggling up +close, gave me of their warmth, and from them I learned many things +which I could neither have understood nor remembered had they not made +them plain.</p> + +<a name="image-14"><!-- Image 14 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/014.jpg" height="300" width="503" +alt="PASS IN THE SIERRA NEVADAS OF CALIFORNIA"> +</center> + +<h5>PASS IN THE SIERRA NEVADAS OF CALIFORNIA</h5> + +<hr> + +<a name="image-15"><!-- Image 15 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/015.jpg" height="300" width="516" +alt="From an old drawing made from description furnished by Wm. G. Murphy. CAMP AT DONNER LAKE, NOVEMBER, 1846"> +</center> + +<h5>From an old drawing made from description furnished by Wm. G. Murphy. CAMP AT DONNER LAKE, NOVEMBER, 1846</h5> + +<hr> + +<p>Just one happy play is impressed upon my mind. It must have been after +the first storm, for the snow bank in front of the cabin door was not +high enough to keep out a little sunbeam that stole down the steps and +made a bright spot upon our floor. I saw it, and sat down under it, +held it on my lap, passed my hand up and down in its brightness, and +found that I could break its ray in two. In fact, we had quite a +frolic. I fancied that it moved when I did, for it warmed the top of my +head, kissed first one cheek and then the other, and seemed to run up +and down my arm. Finally I gathered up a piece of it in my apron and +ran to my mother. Great was my surprise when I carefully opened the +folds and found that I had nothing to show, and the sunbeam I had left +seemed shorter. After mother explained its nature, I watched it creep +back slowly up the steps and disappear.</p> + +<p>Snowy Christmas brought us no "glad tidings," and New Year's Day no +happiness. Yet, each bright day that followed a storm was one of +thanksgiving, on which we all crept up the flight of snow steps and +huddled about on the surface in the blessed sunshine, but with our eyes +closed against its painful and blinding glare.</p> + +<p>Once my mother took me to a hole where I saw smoke coming up, and she +told me that its steps led down to Uncle Jacob's tent, and that we +would go down there to see Aunt Betsy and my little cousins.</p> + +<p>I stooped low and peered into the dark depths. Then I called to my +cousins to come to me, because I was afraid to go where they were. I +had not seen them since the day we encamped. At that time they were +chubby and playful, carrying water from the creek to their tent in +small tin pails. Now, they were so changed in looks that I scarcely +knew them, and they stared at me as at a stranger. So I was glad when +my mother came up and took me back to our own tent, which seemed less +dreary because I knew the things that were in it, and the faces about +me.</p> + +<p>Father's hand became worse. The swelling and inflammation extending up +the arm to the shoulder produced suffering which he could not conceal. +Each day that we had a fire, I watched mother sitting by his side, with +a basin of warm water upon her lap, laving the wounded and inflamed +parts very tenderly, with a strip of frayed linen wrapped around a +little stick. I remember well the look of comfort that swept over his +worn features as she laid the soothed arm back into place.</p> + +<p>By the middle of January the snow measured twelve and fourteen feet in +depth. Nothing could be seen of our abode except the coils of smoke +that found their way up through the opening. There was a dearth of +water. Prosser Creek was frozen over and covered with snow. Icicles +hung from the branches of every tree. The stock of pine cones that had +been gathered for lights was almost consumed. Wood was so scarce that +we could not have fire enough to cook our strips of rawhide, and +Georgia heard mother say that we children had not had a dry garment on +in more than a week, and that she did not know what to do about it. +Then like a smile from God, came another sunny day which not only +warmed and dried us thoroughly but furnished a supply of water from +dripping snowbanks.</p> + +<p>The twenty-first was also bright, and John Baptiste went on snowshoes +with messages to the lake camp. He found its inmates in a more +pitiable condition than we were. Only one death had occurred there +since our last communication, but he saw several of the starving who +could not survive many days.</p> + +<p>The number to consume the slender stock of food had been lessened, +however, on the sixteenth of December, some six weeks previously, by +the departure of <a name="IAnchorE7"></a><a href="#IndexE7">William Eddy</a>, <a name="IAnchorD6"></a><a href="#IndexD6">Patrick Dolan</a>, +Lemuel Murphy, <a name="IAnchorF12"></a><a href="#IndexF12">William Foster</a>, +Mrs. Sarah Foster, <a name="IAnchorF8"></a><a href="#IndexF8">Jay Fosdick</a>, +Mrs. Sarah Fosdick, Mrs. +William McCutchen, Mrs. Harriet Pike, Miss Mary Graves, Franklin +Graves, Sr., C.T. Stanton, Antonio, Lewis, and Salvador.</p> + +<p>This party, which called itself "<a name="IAnchorF4"></a><a href="#IndexF4">The Forlorn Hope</a>," had a most +memorable experience, as will be shown later. In some instances husband +had parted from wife, and father from children. Three young mothers had +left their babes in the arms of grandmothers. It was a dire resort, a +last desperate attempt, in face of death, to save those dependent upon +them.</p> + +<p>Staff in hand, they had set forth on snowshoes, each carrying a pack +containing little save a quilt and light rations for six days' +journeying. One had a rifle, ammunition, flint, and hatchet for camp +use. William Murphy and Charles Burger, who had originally been of the +number, gave out before the close of the first day, and crept back to +camp. The others continued under the leadership of the intrepid Eddy +and brave Stanton.</p> + +<p>John Baptiste remained there a short time and returned to us, saying, +"Those at the other camp believe the promised relief is close at hand!"</p> + +<p>This rekindled hope in us, even as it had revived courage and prolonged +lives in the lake cabins, and we prayed, as they were praying, that the +relief might come before its coming should be too late.</p> + +<p>Oh, how we watched, hour after hour, and how often each day John +Baptiste climbed to the topmost bough of a tall pine tree and, with +straining eyes, scanned the desolate expanse for one moving speck in +the distance, for one ruffled track on the snow which should ease our +awful suspense.</p> + +<p>Days passed. No food in camp except an unsavory beef hide—pinching +hunger called for more. Again John Baptiste and Noah James went forth +in anxious search for marks of our buried cattle. They made +excavations, then forced their hand-poles deep, deeper into the snow, +but in vain their efforts—the nail and hook at the points brought up +no sign of blood, hair, or hide. In dread unspeakable they returned, +and said:</p> + +<p>"We shall go mad; we shall die! It is useless to hunt for the cattle; +but the <i>dead</i>, if they could be reached, their bodies might keep us +alive."</p> + +<p>"No," replied father and mother, speaking for themselves. "No, part of +a hide still remains. When it is gone we will perish, if that be the +alternative."</p> + +<p>The fact was, our dead could not have been disturbed even had the +attempt been made, for the many snowfalls of winter were banked about +them firm as granite walls, and in that camp was neither implement nor +arm strong enough to reach their resting-places.</p> + +<p>It was a long, weary waiting, on starvation rations until the +nineteenth of February. I did not see any one coming that morning; but +I remember that, suddenly, there was an unusual stir and excitement in +the camp. Three strangers were there, and one was talking with father. +The others took packs from their backs and measured out small +quantities of flour and jerked beef and two small biscuits for each of +us. Then they went up to fell the sheltering pine tree over our tent +for fuel; while Noah James, Mrs. Wolfinger, my two half-sisters, and +mother kept moving about hunting for things.</p> + +<p>Finally Elitha and Leanna came and kissed me, then father, "good-bye," +and went up the steps, and out of sight. Mother stood on the snow where +she could see all go forth. They moved in single file,—the leaders on +snowshoes, the weak stepping in the tracks made by the strong. Leanna, +the last in line, was scarcely able to keep up. It was not until after +mother came back with Frances and Georgia that I was made to understand +that this was the long-hoped-for relief party.</p> + +<p>It had come and gone, and had taken Noah James, Mrs. Wolfinger, and my +two half-sisters from us; then had stopped at Aunt Betsy's for William +Hook, her eldest son, and my Cousin George, and all were now on the +way to the lake cabins to join others who were able to walk over the +snow without assistance.</p> + +<p>The rescuers, seven in number, who had followed instructions given them +at the settlement, professed to have no knowledge of the Forlorn Hope, +except that this first relief expedition had been outfitted by +<a name="IAnchorS44"></a><a href="#IndexS44">Captain Sutter</a> and Alcalde Sinclair in response to Mr. Eddy's appeal, and that +other rescue parties were being organized in California, and would soon +come prepared to carry out the remaining children and helpless grown +folk. By this we knew that Mr. Eddy, at least, had succeeded in +reaching the settlement.</p> + +<a name="Footnote_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor5">[5]</a><div class=note> +<a name="IAnchorB17"></a><a href="#IndexB17">Patrick Breen's Diary.</a></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_IX"></a><h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h4>SUFFERINGS OF THE "FORLORN HOPE"—RESORT TO HUMAN FLESH—"CAMP OF +DEATH"—BOOTS CRISPED AND EATEN—DEER KILLED—INDIAN <i>Rancheria</i>—THE +"WHITE MAN'S HOME" AT LAST.</h4> + +<p>Although we were so meagrely informed, it is well that my readers +should, at this point, become familiar with the experiences of the +expedition known as the <a name="IAnchorF5"></a><a href="#IndexF5">Forlorn Hope</a>,<a name="FNanchor6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6"><sup>[6]</sup></a> and also the various measures +taken for our relief when our precarious condition was made known to +the good people of California. It will be remembered that the Forlorn +Hope was the party of fifteen which, as John Baptiste reported to us, +made the last unaided attempt to cross the mountains.</p> + +<p>Words cannot picture, nor mind conceive, more torturing hardships and +privations than were endured by that little band on its way to the +settlement. It left the camp on the sixteenth of December, with scant +rations for six days, hoping in that time to force its way to Bear +Valley and there find game. But the storms which had been so pitiless +at the mountain camps followed the unprotected refugees with seemingly +fiendish fury. After the first day from camp, its members could no +longer keep together on their marches. The stronger broke the trail, +and the rest followed to night-camp as best they could.</p> + +<p>On the third day, Stanton's sight failed, and he begged piteously to be +led; but, soon realizing the heart-rending plight of his companions, he +uncomplainingly submitted to his fate. Three successive nights, he +staggered into camp long after the others had finished their stinted +meal. Always he was shivering from cold, sometimes wet with sleet and +rain.</p> + +<p>It is recorded that at no time had the party allowed more than an ounce +of food per meal to the individual, yet the rations gave out on the +night of the twenty-second, while they were still in a wilderness of +snow-peaks. <a name="IAnchorE8"></a><a href="#IndexE8">Mr. Eddy</a> only was better provided. In looking over his pack +that morning for the purpose of throwing away any useless article, he +unexpectedly found a small bag containing about a half-pound of dried +bear-meat.<a name="FNanchor7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7"><sup>[7]</sup></a> Fastened to the meat was a pencilled note from his wife, +begging him to save the hidden treasure until his hour of direst need, +since it might then be the means of saving his life. The note was +signed, "Your own dear Elinor." With tenderest emotion, he slipped the +food back, resolving to do the dear one's bidding, trusting that she +and their children might live until he should return for them.</p> + +<a name="image-16"><!-- Image 16 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/016.jpg" height="300" width="347" +alt="BEAR VALLEY, FROM EMIGRANT GAP"> +</center> + +<h5>BEAR VALLEY, FROM EMIGRANT GAP</h5> + +<hr> + +<a name="image-17"><!-- Image 17 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/017.jpg" height="300" width="354" +alt="THE TRACKLESS MOUNTAINS"> +</center> + +<h5>THE TRACKLESS MOUNTAINS</h5> + +<hr> + + +<p>The following morning, while the others were preparing to leave camp, +Stanton sat beside the smouldering fire smoking his pipe. When ready to +go forth, they asked him if he was coming, and he replied, "Yes, I am +coming soon." Those were his parting words to his friends, and his +greeting to the Angel of Death.<a name="FNanchor8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8"><sup>[8]</sup></a> He never left that fireside, and his +companions were too feeble to return for him when they found he did not +come into camp.</p> + +<p>Twenty-four hours later, the members of that hapless little band threw +themselves upon the desolate waste of snow to ponder the problems of +life and death; to search each the other's face for answer to the +question their lips durst not frame. Fathers who had left their +families, and mothers who had left their babes, wanted to go back and +die with them, if die they must; but Mr. Eddy and the Indians—those +who had crossed the range with Stanton—declared that they would push +on to the settlement. Then Mary Graves, in whose young heart were still +whisperings of hope, courageously said:</p> + +<p>"I, too, will go on, for to go back and hear the cries of hunger from +my little brothers and sisters is more than I can stand. I shall go as +far as I can, let the consequences be what they may."</p> + +<p><a name="IAnchorG7"></a><a href="#IndexG7">W.F. Graves</a>, her father, would not let his daughter proceed alone, and +finally all decided to make a final, supreme effort. Yet—think of +it—they were without one morsel of food! Even the wind seemed to +hold its breath as the suggestion was made that, "were one to die, the +rest might live." Then the suggestion was made that lots be cast, and +whoever drew the longest slip should be the sacrifice. Mr. Eddy +endorsed the plan. Despite opposition from Mr. Foster and others, the +slips of paper were prepared, and great-hearted <a name="IAnchorD7"></a><a href="#IndexD7">Patrick Dolan</a> drew the +fatal slip. Patrick Dolan, who had come away from camp that his +famishing friends might prolong their lives by means of the small stock +of food which he had to leave! Harm a hair of that good man's head? Not +a soul of that starving band would do it.</p> + +<p>Mr. Eddy then proposed that they resume their journey as best they +could until death should claim a victim. All acquiesced. Slowly rising +to their feet, they managed to stagger and to crawl forward about three +miles to a tree which furnished fuel for their Christmas fire. It was +kindled with great difficulty, for in cutting the boughs, the hatchet +blade flew off the handle and for a time was lost in deep snow.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, every puff of wind was laden with killing frost, and in +sight of that glowing fire, Antonio froze to death. Mr. Graves, who was +also breathing heavily, when told by Mr. Eddy that he was dying, +replied that he did not care. He, however, called his daughters, Mrs. +Fosdick and Mary Graves, to him, and by his parting injunctions, showed +that he was still able to realize keenly the dangers that beset them. +Remembering how their faces had paled at the suggestion of using human +flesh for food, he admonished them to put aside the natural repugnance +which stood between them and the possibility of life. He commanded them +to banish sentiment and instinctive loathing, and think only of their +starving mother, brothers, and sisters whom they had left in camp, and +avail themselves of every means in their power to rescue them. He +begged that his body be used to sustain the famishing, and bidding each +farewell, his spirit left its bruised and worn tenement before half the +troubles of the night were passed.</p> + +<p>About ten o'clock, pelting hail, followed by snow on the wings of a +tornado, swept every spark of fire from those shivering mortals, whose +voices now mingled with the shrieking wind, calling to heaven for +relief. Mr. Eddy, knowing that all would freeze to death in the +darkness if allowed to remain exposed, succeeded after many efforts in +getting them close together between their blankets where the snow +covered them.</p> + +<p>With the early morning, <a name="IAnchorD8"></a><a href="#IndexD8">Patrick Dolan</a> became delirious and left camp. +He was brought back with difficulty and forcibly kept under cover until +late in the day, when he sank into a stupor, whence he passed quietly +into that sleep which knows no waking.</p> + +<p>The crucial hour had come. Food lay before the starving, yet every eye +turned from it and every hand dropped irresolute.</p> + +<p>Another night of agony passed, during which Lemuel Murphy became +delirious and called long and loud for food; but the cold was so +intense that it kept all under their blankets until four o'clock in the +afternoon, when Mr. Eddy succeeded in getting a fire in the trunk of a +large pine tree. Whereupon, his companions, instead of seeking food, +crept forth and broke off low branches, put them down before the fire +and laid their attenuated forms upon them. The flames leaped up the +trunk, and burned off dead boughs so that they dropped on the snow +about them, but the unfortunates were too weak and too indifferent to +fear the burning brands.</p> + +<p>Mr. Eddy now fed his waning strength on shreds of his concealed bear +meat, hoping that he might survive to save the giver. The rest in camp +could scarcely walk, by the twenty-eighth, and their sensations of +hunger were deminishing. This condition forebode delirium and death, +unless stayed by the only means at hand. It was in very truth a pitiful +alternative offered to the sufferers.</p> + +<p>With sickening anguish the first morsels were prepared and given to +Lemuel Murphy, but for him they were too late. Not one touched flesh of +kindred body. Nor was there need of restraining hand, or warning voice +to gauge the small quantity which safety prescribed to break the fast +of the starving. Death would have been preferable to that awful meal, +had relentless fate not said: "Take, eat that ye may live. Eat, lest ye +go mad and leave your work undone!"</p> + +<p>All but the Indians obeyed the mandate, and were strengthened and +reconciled to prepare the remaining flesh to sustain them a few days +longer on their journey.</p> + +<p>Hitherto, the wanderers had been guided partly by the fitful sun, +partly by Lewis and Salvador, the Indians who had come with Stanton +from Sutter's Fort. In the morning, however, when they were ready to +leave that spot, which was thereafter known as the "<a name="IAnchorC6"></a><a href="#IndexC6">Camp of Death</a>," +Salvador, who could speak a little English, insisted that he and Lewis +were lost, and, therefore, unable to guide them farther.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, the party at once set out and travelled instinctively +until evening. The following morning they wrapped pieces of blanket +around their cracked and swollen feet and again struggled onward until +late in the afternoon, when they encamped upon a high ridge. There they +saw beyond, in the distance, a wide plain which they believed to be the +Sacramento Valley.</p> + +<p>This imaginary glimpse of distant lowland gave them a peaceful sleep. +The entire day of December 31 was spent in crossing a cañon, and every +footstep left its trace of blood in the snow.</p> + +<p>When they next encamped, Mr. Eddy saw that poor +<a name="IAnchorF9"></a><a href="#IndexF9">Jay Fosdick</a> was +failing, and he begged him to summon up all his courage and energy in +order to reach the promised land, now so near. They were again without +food; and <a name="IAnchorF13"></a><a href="#IndexF13">William Foster</a>, whose mind had become unbalanced by the long +fast, was ready to kill Mrs. McCutchen or Miss Graves. Mr. Eddy +confronted and intimidated the crazed sufferer, who next threatened +the Indian guides, and would have carried out his threat then, had Mr. +Eddy not secretly warned them against danger and urged them to flee. +But nothing could save the Indians from Foster's insane passion later, +when he found them on the trail in an unconscious and dying condition.</p> + +<p>January 1, 1847, was, to the little band of eight, a day of less +distressing trials; its members resumed travel early, braced by +unswerving will-power. They stopped at midday and revived strength by +eating the toasted strings of their snowshoes. Mr. Eddy also ate his +worn out moccasins, and all felt a renewal of hope upon seeing before +them an easier grade which led to night-camp where the snow was only +six feet in depth. Soothed by a milder temperature, they resumed their +march earlier next morning and descended to where the snow was but +three feet deep. There they built their camp-fire and slightly crisped +the leather of a pair of old boots and a pair of shoes which +constituted their evening meal, and was the last of their effects +available as food.</p> + +<p>An extraordinary effort on the third day of the new year brought them +to bare ground between patches of snow. They were still astray among +the western foothills of the Sierras, and sat by a fire under an oak +tree all night, enduring hunger that was almost maddening.</p> + +<p>Jay Fosdick was sinking rapidly, and Mr. Eddy resolved to take the gun +and steal away from camp at dawn. But his conscience smote him, and he +finally gave the others a hint of his intention of going in search of +game, and of not returning unless successful. Not a moving creature nor +a creeping thing had crossed the trail on their journey thither; but +the open country before them, and minor marks well known to hunters, +had caught Mr. Eddy's eye and strengthened his determination. Mrs. +Pike, in dread and fear of the result, threw her arms about Mr. Eddy's +neck and implored him not to leave them, and the others mingled their +entreaties and protestations with hers. In silence he took his gun to +go alone. Then Mary Graves declared that she would keep up with him, +and without heeding further opposition the two set out. A short +distance from camp they stopped at a place where a deer had recently +lain.</p> + +<p>With a thrill of emotion too intense for words, with a prayer in his +heart too fervent for utterance, Mr. Eddy turned his tearful eyes +toward Mary and saw her weeping like a child. A moment later, that man +and that woman who had once said that they knew not how to pray, were +kneeling beside that newly found track pleading in broken accents to +the Giver of all life, for a manifestation of His power to save their +starving band. Long restrained tears were still streaming down the +cheeks of both, and soothing their anxious hearts as they arose to go +in pursuit of the deer. <a name="IAnchorT7"></a><a href="#IndexT7">J.Q. Thornton</a> says:</p> + +<blockquote>They had not proceeded far before they saw a large buck about eighty +yards distant. Mr. Eddy raised his rifle and for some time tried to +bring it to bear upon the deer, but such was his extreme weakness +that he could not. He breathed a little, changed his manner of +holding the gun, and made another effort. Again his weakness +prevented him from being able to hold upon it. He heard a low, +suppressed sobbing behind him, and, turning around, saw Mary Graves +weeping and in great agitation, her head bowed, and her hands upon +her face. Alarmed lest she should cause the deer to run, Mr. Eddy +begged her to be quiet, which she was, after exclaiming, "Oh, I am +afraid you will not kill it."</blockquote> + +<blockquote>He brought the gun to his face the third time, and elevated the +muzzle above the deer, let it descend until he saw the animal +through the sight, when the rifle cracked. Mary immediately wept +aloud, exclaiming, "Oh, merciful God, you have missed it!" Mr. Eddy +assured her that he had not; that the rifle was upon it the moment +of firing; and that, in addition to this, the animal had dropped its +tail between its legs, which this animal always does when wounded.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>His belief was speedily confirmed. The deer ran a short distance, +then fell, and the two eager watchers hastened to it as fast as +their weakened condition would allow. Mr. Eddy cut the throat of the +expiring beast with his pocket-knife, and he and his companion knelt +down and drank the warm blood that flowed from the wound.</blockquote> + +<p>The excitement of getting that blessed food, and the strength it +imparted, produced a helpful reaction, and enabled them to sit down in +peace to rest a while, before attempting to roll their treasure to the +tree near-by, where they built a fire and prepared the entrails.</p> + +<p>Mr. Eddy fired several shots after dark, so that the others might know +that he had not abandoned them. Meanwhile, Mr. and Mrs. Foster, Mrs. +McCutchen, and Mrs. Pike had moved forward and made their camp half-way +between Mr. Eddy's new one and that of the previous night. Mr. Fosdick, +however, being too weak to rise, remained at the first camp. His +devoted wife pillowed his head upon her lap, and prayed that death +would call them away together. <a name="IAnchorT8"></a><a href="#IndexT8">Mr. Thornton</a> +continues:</p> + +<blockquote>The sufferer had heard the crack of Mr. Eddy's rifle at the time he +killed the deer, and said, feebly, "There! Eddy has killed a deer! +Now, if I can only get to him I shall live!"</blockquote> + +<p>But in the stillness of that cold, dark night, Jay Fosdick's spirit +fled alone. His wife wrapped their only blanket about his body, and lay +down on the ground beside him, hoping to freeze to death. The morning +dawned bright, the sun came out, and the lone widow rose, kissed the +face of her dead, and, with a small bundle in her hand, started to join +Mr. Eddy. She passed a hunger-crazed man on the way from the middle +camp, going to hers, and her heart grew sick, for she knew that her +loved one's body would not be spared for burial rites.</p> + +<p>She found Mr. Eddy drying his deer meat before the fire, and later saw +him divide it so that each of his companions in the camps should have +an equal share.</p> + +<p>The seven survivors, each with his portion of venison, resumed travel +on the sixth and continued in the foothills a number of days, crawling +up the ascents, sliding down the steeps; often harassed by fears of +becoming lost near the goal, yet unaware that they were astray.</p> + +<p>The venison had been consumed. Hope had almost died in the heart of the +bravest, when at the close of day on the tenth of January, twenty-five +days from the date of leaving Donner Lake, they saw an Indian village +at the edge of a thicket they were approaching. As the sufferers +staggered forward, the <a name="IAnchorI7"></a><a href="#IndexI7">Indians</a> were overwhelmed at sight of their +misery. The warriors gazed in stolid silence. The squaws wrung their +hands and wept aloud. The larger children hid themselves, and the +little ones clung to their mothers in fear. The first sense of horror +having passed, those dusky mothers fed the unfortunates. Some brought +them unground acorns to eat, while others mixed the meal into cakes and +offered them as fast as they could cook them on the heated stones. All +except Mr. Eddy were strengthened by the food. It sickened him, and he +resorted to green grass boiled in water.</p> + +<p>The following morning the chief sent his runners to other <i>rancherias, +en route</i> to the settlement, telling his people of the distress of the +pale-faces who were coming toward them, and who would need food. When +the Forlorn Hope was ready to move on, the chief led the way, and an +Indian walked on either side of each sufferer supporting and helping +the unsteady feet. At each <i>rancheria</i> the party was put in charge of a +new leader and fresh supporters.</p> + +<p>On the seventeenth, the chief with much difficulty procured, for Mr. +Eddy, a gill of pine nuts which the latter found so nutritious that the +following morning, on resuming travel, he was able to walk without +support. They had proceeded less than a mile when his companions sank +to the ground completely unnerved. They had suddenly given up and were +willing to die. The Indians appeared greatly perplexed, and Mr. Eddy +shook with sickening fear. Was his great effort to come to naught? +Should his wife and babes die while he stood guard over those who would +no longer help themselves? No, he would push ahead and see what he yet +could do!</p> + +<p>The old chief sent an Indian with him as a guide and support. Relieved +of the sight and personal responsibility of his enfeebled companions, +Mr. Eddy felt a renewal of strength and determination. He pressed +onward, scarcely heeding his dusky guide. At the end of five miles they +met another Indian, and Mr. Eddy, now conscious that his feet were +giving out, promised the stranger tobacco, if he would go with them and +help to lead him to the "white man's house."</p> + +<p>And so that long, desperate struggle for life, and for the sake of +loved ones, ended an hour before sunset, when <a name="IAnchorE9"></a><a href="#IndexE9">Mr. Eddy</a>, leaning heavily +upon the Indians, halted before the door of +<a name="IAnchorR19"></a><a href="#IndexR19">Colonel M.D. Richey's</a> home, +thirty-five miles from Sutter's Fort.</p> + +<p>The first to meet him was the daughter of the house, whom he asked for +bread. <a name="IAnchorT9"></a><a href="#IndexT9">Thornton</a> says:</p> + +<blockquote>She looked at him, burst out crying, and took hold of him to assist +him into the room. He was immediately placed in bed, in which he lay +unable to turn his body during four days. In a very short time he +had food brought to him by Mrs. Richey, who sobbed as she fed the +miserable and frightful being before her. Shortly, Harriet, the +daughter, had carried the news from house to house in the +neighborhood, and horses were running at full speed from place to +place until all preparations were made for taking relief to those +whom Mr. Eddy had left in the morning.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>William Johnson, John Howell, John Rhodes, Mr. Keiser, Mr. Sagur, +Racine Tucker, and Joseph Varro assembled at Mr. Richey's +immediately. The females collected the bread they had, with tea, +sugar, and coffee, amounting to as much as four men could carry. +Howell, Rhodes, Sagur, and Tucker started at once, on foot, with the +Indians as guides, and arrived at camp, between fifteen and eighteen +miles distant, at midnight.</blockquote> + +<p>Mr. Eddy had warned the outgoing party against giving the sufferers as +much food as they might want, but, on seeing them, the tender-hearted +men could not deny their tearful begging for "more." One of the relief +was kept busy until dawn preparing food which the rest gave to the +enfeebled emigrants. This overdose of kindness made its victims +temporarily very ill, but caused no lasting harm.</p> + +<p>Early on the morning of January 18, Messrs. Richey, Johnson, Varro, and +Keiser, equipped with horses and other necessaries, hurried away to +bring in the refugees, together with their comrades who had gone on +before. By ten o'clock that night the whole of the Forlorn Hope were +safe in the homes of their benefactors. Mr. Richey declared that he and +his party had retraced Mr. Eddy's track six miles, by the blood from +his feet; and that they could not have believed that he had travelled +that eighteen miles, if they themselves had not passed over the ground +in going to his discouraged companions.</p> + +<a name="Footnote_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor6">[6]</a><div class=note> The experiences of the Donner Party, to which he refers in +a footnote, suggested to Bret Harte the opening chapters of "Gabriel +Conroy"; but he has followed the sensational accounts circulated by the +newspapers, and the survivors find his work a mere travesty of the +facts. The narrative, however, does not purport to set forth the truth, +but is confessedly imaginative.</div> + +<a name="Footnote_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor7">[7]</a><div class=note> Mr. Eddy had killed the bear and dried the meat early in +the winter.</div> + +<a name="Footnote_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor8">[8]</a><div class=note> His body was found there later by the First Relief Party.</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_X"></a><h2>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h4>RELIEF MEASURES INAUGURATED IN CALIFORNIA—DISTURBED CONDITIONS BECAUSE +OF MEXICAN WAR—GENEROUS SUBSCRIPTIONS—THREE PARTIES ORGANIZE—"FIRST +RELIEF," UNDER RACINE TUCKER; "SECOND RELIEF" UNDER REED AND GREENWOOD; +AND RELAY CAMP UNDER WOODWORTH—FIRST RELIEF PARTY CROSSES SNOW-BELT +AND REACHES DONNER LAKE.</h4> + +<p>The kindness and sympathy shown Mr. Eddy by the good people in the +neighborhood of the Richey and Johnson ranches encouraged his efforts +in behalf of his fellow-sufferers in the mountains. While the early +sunlight of January 19 was flooding his room with cheer and warmth, he +dictated a letter to +<a name="IAnchorS18"></a><a href="#IndexS18">Mr. John Sinclair</a>, Alcalde of the Upper District +of California, living near Sutter's Fort, in which he stated as briefly +as possible the conditions and perils surrounding the snow-bound +travellers, and begged him to use every means in his power toward their +immediate rescue.</p> + +<p>Bear River was running high, and the plain between it and Sutter's Fort +seemed a vast quagmire, but John Rhodes volunteered to deliver the +letter. He was ferried over the river on a raft formed of two logs +lashed together with strips of rawhide. Then he rolled his trousers +above the knee and with his shoes in his hand, started on his mission. +He saw no white faces until he reached +<a name="IAnchorS20"></a><a href="#IndexS20">Sinclair's</a>, where the letter +created a painful interest and won ready promises of help.</p> + +<p>It was dark when he reached Sutter's Fort, nevertheless from house to +house he spread the startling report: "Men, women, and little children +are snow-bound in the Sierras, and starving to death!"</p> + +<p><a name="IAnchorK1"></a><a href="#IndexK1">Captain Kerns</a> in charge at the Fort, pledged his aid, and influence to +the cause of relief. +<a name="IAnchorS45"></a><a href="#IndexS45">Captain Sutter</a>, who had already twice sent +supplies, first by Stanton and again by McCutchen and Reed, in their +unsuccessful attempt to cross the mountains, at once agreed to +coöperate with Alcalde Sinclair.</p> + +<p>While Captain Kerns at Sutter's Fort was sending messengers to +different points, and Mrs. Sinclair was collecting clothing to replace +the tattered garments of the members of the Forlorn Hope, her husband +despatched an open letter to the people of San Francisco, describing +the arrival of the survivors of the Forlorn Hope, and the heart-rending +condition of those remaining in the mountains. He urged immediate +action, and offered his services for individual work, or to coöperate +with Government relief, or any parties that might be preparing to go +out with Messrs. Reed and McCutchen, who were known to be endeavoring +to raise a second expedition.</p> + +<a name="image-18"><!-- Image 18 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/018.jpg" height="300" width="508" +alt="SUTTER'S FORT"> +</center> + +<h5>SUTTER'S FORT</h5> + +<hr> + +<a name="image-19"><!-- Image 19 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/019.jpg" height="300" width="511" +alt="SAM BRANNAN'S STORE AT SUTTER'S FORT"> +</center> + +<h5>SAM BRANNAN'S STORE AT SUTTER'S FORT</h5> + +<hr> + +<p>The letter was taken to the City Hotel in San Francisco, and read aloud +in the dining-room. Its contents aroused all the tender emotions +known to human nature. Some of the listeners had parted from members of +the <a name="IAnchorD63"></a><a href="#IndexD63">Donner Party</a> at the Little Sandy, when its prospects appeared so +bright, and the misfortunes which had since befallen the party seemed +incredible. Women left the room sobbing, and men called those passing, +in from the street, to join the knots of earnest talkers. All were +ready and willing to do; but, alas, the obstacles which had prevented +Mr. Reed getting men for the mountain work still remained to be +overcome.</p> + +<p>Existing war between Mexico and the United States was keeping +California in a disturbed condition. Most of the able-bodied male +emigrants had enlisted under Captain Frémont as soon as they reached +the country, and were still on duty in the southern part of the +province; and the non-enlisted were deemed necessary for the protection +of the colonies of American women and children encamped on the soil of +the enemy. Moreover, all felt that each man who should attempt to cross +the snow belt would do so at the peril of his life.</p> + +<p>Mr. Reed, who in the late Autumn had sent petitions to the Military +Governor and to <a name="IAnchorB1"></a><a href="#IndexB1">Lieutenant Washington A. Bartlett</a> of the United States +Navy, Alcalde of the town and district of San Francisco, but as yet had +obtained nothing, now appeared before each in person, and was promised +assistance. <a name="IAnchorM11"></a><a href="#IndexM11">Captain Mervine</a> +of the United States Navy, and +<a name="IAnchorR17"></a><a href="#IndexR17">Mr. Richardson</a>, +United States Collector, each subscribed fifty dollars to +the cause on his own account.</p> + +<p>As a result of these appeals, Alcalde Bartlett called a public meeting; +and so intense was the feeling that Mr. Dunleary, "the first speaker, +had scarcely taken his seat on the platform when the people rushed to +the chairman's table from all parts of the house with their hands full +of silver dollars," and could hardly be induced to stay their +generosity until the meeting was organized.</p> + +<p>A treasurer and two committees were appointed; the one to solicit +subscriptions, and the other to purchase supplies. The Alcalde was +requested to act with both committees. Seven hundred dollars was +subscribed before the meeting adjourned. Seven hundred dollars, in an +isolated Spanish province, among newly arrived immigrants, was a +princely sum to gather.</p> + +<p>Messrs. Ward and Smith, in addition to a generous subscription, offered +their launch <i>Dice mi Nana</i>, to transport the expedition to Feather +River, and <a name="IAnchorF24"></a><a href="#IndexF24">Mr. John Fuller</a> volunteered to pilot the launch.</p> + +<p>It was decided to fit out an expedition, under charge of Past +<a name="IAnchorW8"></a><a href="#IndexW8">Midshipman Woodworth</a>, who had tendered his services for the purpose, he +to act under instructions of the Military Governor and coöperate with +the committee aiding Reed.</p> + +<p>Soon thereafter "<a name="IAnchorG11"></a><a href="#IndexG11">Old Trapper Greenwood</a>" appeared in San Francisco, +asking for assistance in fitting out a following to go to the mountains +with himself and McCutchen, +<a name="IAnchorY2"></a><a href="#IndexY2">Mr. George Yount</a> and others in and around +Sonoma and Napa having recommended him as leader. Donations of horses, +mules, beef, and flour had already been sent to his camp in Napa +Valley. Furthermore, +<a name="IAnchorM3"></a><a href="#IndexM3">Lieut. William L. Maury</a>, U.S.N., Commander at the +port; +<a name="IAnchorV1"></a><a href="#IndexV1">Don Mariano G. Vallejo</a>, Ex-Commandante-General of California; Mr. +George Yount, and others subscribed the sum of five hundred dollars in +specie toward outfitting Greenwood and the men he should select to +cross the mountains.</p> + +<p>Greenwood urged that he should have ten or twelve men on whom he could +rely after reaching deep snow. These, he said, he could secure if he +had the ready money to make advances and to procure the necessary warm +clothing and blankets. He had crossed the Sierras before, when the snow +lay deep on the summit, and now proposed to drive over horses and kill +them at the camps as provisions for the sufferers. If this scheme +should fail, he and his sons with others would get food to the camp on +snowshoes. <a name="IAnchorT10"></a><a href="#IndexT10">Thornton</a> says:</p> + +<blockquote>The Governor-General of California, after due form, and trusting to +the generosity and humanity of the Government which he represented, +appropriated four hundred dollars on Government account toward +outfitting this relief party. Furthermore, in compliance with an +application from <a name="IAnchorB2"></a><a href="#IndexB2">Alcalde Bartlett</a> (for the committee), +<a name="IAnchorM12"></a><a href="#IndexM12">Captain Mervine</a>, +of the U.S. frigate <i>Savannah</i>, furnished from the ship's +stores ten days' full rations for ten men. The crews of the +<i>Savannah</i> and the sloop <i>Warren</i>, and the marines in garrison at +San Francisco, increased the relief fund to thirteen hundred +dollars. Messrs. Mellus and Howard tendered their launch to carry +the party up the bay to Sonoma, and Captain Sutter proffered his +launch <i>Sacramento</i> for river use.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>It was now settled that the "Reed-Greenwood party" should go to +Johnson's ranch by way of Sonoma and Napa, and +<a name="IAnchorW9"></a><a href="#IndexW9">Woodworth</a> with his +men and supplies, including clothing for the destitute, should go +by boat to Sutter's Landing; there procure pack animals, buy beef +cattle, and hurry on to the snow-belt; establish a relay camp, +slaughter the cattle, and render all possible aid toward the +immediate rescue of the snow-bound.</blockquote> + +<p>Meanwhile, before Alcalde Sinclair's letter had time to reach San +Francisco, he and Captain Sutter began outfitting the men destined to +become the "First Relief." +<a name="IAnchorG1"></a><a href="#IndexG1">Aguilla Glover</a> and +<a name="IAnchorM19"></a><a href="#IndexM19">R.S. Moutrey</a> volunteered +their services, declaring their willingness to undertake the hazardous +journey for the sake of the lives they might save.</p> + +<p>To hasten recruits for service, Captain Sutter and Alcalde Sinclair +promised that in case the Government should fail to grant the sum, they +themselves would become responsible for the payment of three dollars +per day to each man who would get food through to the snow-bound camps. +Accordingly, Aguilla Glover and R.S. Moutrey, driving pack animals well +laden with warm clothing, blankets, and food supplies, left the Fort at +sunrise on the morning of February the first, and on the third reached +Johnson's ranch, where they joined Messrs. Tucker, Johnson, Richey and +others, who, being anxious to assist in the good work, had killed, and +were fire-drying, beef to take up the mountains. Here two days were +spent making pack-saddles, driving in horses, and getting supplies in +shape. Indians were kept at the handmill grinding wheat. Part of the +flour was sacked, and part converted into bread by the women in the +vicinity.</p> + +<p>On the morning of the fifth of February, Alcalde Sinclair rode to +Johnson's ranch, and all things being ready, he appointed Racine Tucker +Captain of the company, and in touching words commended the heroic work +of its members, and bade them godspeed on their errand of mercy. When +ready to mount, he shook hands with each man, and recorded the names in +a note-book as follows:</p> + +<blockquote><a name="IAnchorT26"></a><a href="#IndexT26">Racine Tucker</a>, +Aguilla Glover, R.S. Moutrey, +<a name="IAnchorR15"></a><a href="#IndexR15">John Rhodes</a>, +<a name="IAnchorR14"></a><a href="#IndexR14">Daniel Rhodes</a>, +<a name="IAnchorC16"></a><a href="#IndexC16">Edward Coffemeir</a>, +<a name="IAnchorR18"></a><a href="#IndexR18">D. Richey</a>, +<a name="IAnchorC19"></a><a href="#IndexC19">James Curtis</a>, William Eddy,[9] +<a name="IAnchorC18"></a><a href="#IndexC18">William Coon</a>, +<a name="IAnchorT25"></a><a href="#IndexT25">George Tucker</a>, +<a name="IAnchorB20"></a><a href="#IndexB20">Adolph Brenheim</a>, +and <a name="IAnchorF10"></a><a href="#IndexF10">John Foster</a>.<a name="FNanchor9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9"><sup>[9]</sup></a></blockquote> + +<p>This party is generally known as the +"<a name="IAnchorR6"></a><a href="#IndexR6">First Relief</a>." Their route to the +snow-belt lay through sections of country which had become so soft and +oozy that the horses often sank in mire, flank deep; and the streams +were so swollen that progress was alarmingly slow. On the second day +they were driven into camp early by heavy rains which drenched +clothing, blankets, and even the provisions carefully stored under the +saddles and leather saddle-covers. This caused a delay of thirty-six +hours, for everything had to be sun or fire dried before the party +could resume travel.</p> + +<p>Upon reaching Mule Springs, the party found the snow from three to four +feet deep, and, contrary to expectations, saw that it would be +impossible to proceed farther with the horses. Mr. Eddy was now ill of +fever, and unfit to continue the climb; whereupon his companions +promised to bring out his loved ones if he would return with Joe Varro, +whom Mr. Johnson had sent along to bring the pack animals home after +they should cease to be of use.</p> + +<p>At Mule Springs, the party built a brush store-house for the extra +supplies and appointed George Tucker and William Coon camp-keepers. +Then they prepared packs containing jerked beef, flour, and bread, each +weighing between forty and seventy-five pounds, according to the +temperament and strength of the respective carriers. The following +morning ten men started on their toilsome march to Bear Valley, where +they arrived on the thirteenth, and at once began searching for the +abandoned wagon and provisions which Reed and McCutchen had cached the +previous Autumn, after their fruitless attempt to scale the mountains. +The wagon was found under snow ten feet in depth; but its supplies had +been destroyed by wild beasts. Warned by this catastrophe, the First +Relief decided to preserve its supplies for the return trip by hanging +them in parcels from ropes tied to the boughs of trees.</p> + +<p>The ten kept together courageously until the fifteenth; then Mr. M.D. +Richey, James Curtis, and <a name="IAnchorB21"></a><a href="#IndexB21">Adolph Brenheim</a> gave up and turned back. Mr. +Tucker, fearing that others might become disheartened and do likewise, +guaranteed each man who would persevere to the end, five dollars per +diem, dating from the time the party entered the snow. The remaining +seven pushed ahead, and on the eighteenth, encamped on the summit +overlooking the lake, where the snow was said to be forty feet in +depth.</p> + +<p>The following morning Aguilla Glover and Daniel Rhodes were so +oppressed by the altitude that their companions had to relieve them of +their packs and help them on to the cabins, which, as chronicled in a +previous chapter, the party reached on the nineteenth of February, +1847.</p> + +<a name="Footnote_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor9">[9]</a><div class=note> Of the Forlorn Hope.</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XI"></a><h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h4>WATCHING FOR THE SECOND RELIEF PARTY—"OLD NAVAJO"—LAST FOOD IN CAMP.</h4> + +<p>After the departure of the First Relief we who were left in the +mountains began to watch and pray for the coming of the +<a name="IAnchorR9"></a><a href="#IndexR9">Second Relief</a>, +as we had before watched and prayed for the coming of the First.</p> + +<p>Sixteen-year-old John Baptiste was disappointed and in ill humor when +Messrs. Tucker and Rhodes insisted that he, being the only able-bodied +man in the Donner camp, should stay and cut wood for the enfeebled, +until the arrival of other rescuers. The little half-breed was a sturdy +fellow, but he was starving too, and thought that he should be allowed +to save himself.</p> + +<p>After he had had a talk with father, however, and the first company of +refugees had gone, he became reconciled to his lot, and served us +faithfully. He would take us little ones up to exercise upon the snow, +saying that we should learn to keep our feet on the slick, frozen +surface, as well as to wade through slush and loose drifts.</p> + +<p>Frequently, when at work and lonesome, he would call Georgia and me up +to keep him company, and when the weather was frosty, he would bring +"Old Navajo," his long Indian blanket, and roll her in it from one end, +and me from the other, until we would come together in the middle, like +the folds of a paper of pins, with a face peeping above each fold. Then +he would set us upon the stump of the pine tree while he chopped the +trunk and boughs for fuel. He told us that he had promised father to +stay until we children should be taken from camp, also that his home +was to be with our family forever. One of his amusements was to rake +the coals together nights, then cover them with ashes, and put the +large camp kettle over the pile for a drum, so that we could spread our +hands around it, "to get just a little warm before going to bed."</p> + +<p>For the time, he lived at Aunt Betsy's tent, because Solomon Hook was +snow-blind and demented, and at times restless and difficult to +control. The poor boy, some weeks earlier, had set out alone to reach +the settlement, and after an absence of forty-eight hours was found +close to camp, blind, and with his mind unbalanced. He, like other +wanderers on that desolate waste, had become bewildered, and, +unconsciously, circled back near to the starting-point.</p> + +<p>Aunt Betsy came often to our tent, and mother frequently went to hers, +and they knelt together and asked for strength to bear their burdens. +Once, when mother came back, she reported to father that she had +discovered bear tracks quite close to camp, and was solicitous that the +beast be secured, as its flesh might sustain us until rescued.</p> + +<p>As father grew weaker, we children spent more time upon the snow above +camp. Often, after his wound was dressed and he fell into a quiet +slumber, our ever-busy, thoughtful mother would come to us and sit on +the tree trunk. Sometimes she brought paper and wrote; sometimes she +sketched the mountains and the tall tree-tops, which now looked like +small trees growing up through the snow. And often, while knitting or +sewing, she held us spell-bound with wondrous tales of "Joseph in +Egypt," of "Daniel in the den of lions," of "Elijah healing the widow's +son," of dear little Samuel, who said, "Speak Lord, for Thy servant +heareth," and of the tender, loving Master, who took young children in +his arms and blessed them.</p> + +<p>With me sitting on her lap, and Frances and Georgia at either side, she +referred to father's illness and lonely condition, and said that when +the next "Relief" came, we little ones might be taken to the +settlement, without either parent, but, God willing, both would follow +later. Who could be braver or tenderer than she, as she prepared us to +go forth with strangers and live without her? While she, without +medicine, without lights, would remain and care for our suffering +father, in hunger and in cold, and without her little girls to kiss +good-morning and good-night. She taught us how to gain friends among +those whom we should meet, and what to answer when asked whose children +we were.</p> + +<p>Often her eyes gazed wistfully to westward, where sky and mountains +seemed to meet, and she told us that beyond those snowy peaks lay +California, our land of food and safety, our promised land of +happiness, where God would care for us. Oh, it was painfully quiet some +days in those great mountains, and lonesome upon the snow. The pines +had a whispering homesick murmur, and we children had lost all +inclination to play.</p> + +<p>The last food which I remember seeing in our camp before the arrival of +the Second Relief was a thin mould of tallow, which mother had tried +out of the trimmings of the jerked beef brought us by the First Relief. +She had let it harden in a pan, and after all other rations had given +out, she cut daily from it three small white squares for each of us, +and we nibbled off the four corners very slowly, and then around and +around the edges of the precious pieces until they became too small for +us to hold between our fingers.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XII"></a><h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h4>ARRIVAL OF SECOND RELIEF, OR REED-GREENWOOD PARTY—FEW SURVIVORS STRONG +ENOUGH TO TRAVEL—WIFE'S CHOICE—PARTINGS AT DONNER CAMP—MY TWO +SISTERS AND I DESERTED—DEPARTURE OF SECOND RELIEF PARTY.</h4> + +<p>It was the first of March, about ten days after the arrival of the +First Relief, before James Reed and William McCutchen succeeded in +reaching the party they had left long months before. They, together +with Brit Greenwood, <a name="IAnchorM15"></a><a href="#IndexM15">Hiram Miller</a>, +<a name="IAnchorJ2"></a><a href="#IndexJ2">Joseph Jondro</a>, +<a name="IAnchorS40"></a><a href="#IndexS40">Charles Stone</a>, +<a name="IAnchorT27"></a><a href="#IndexT27">John Turner</a>, +<a name="IAnchorD4"></a><a href="#IndexD4">Matthew Dofar</a>, <a name="IAnchorC1"></a><a href="#IndexC1">Charles Cady</a>, and +<a name="IAnchorC11"></a><a href="#IndexC11">Nicholas Clark</a> constituted the +Second Relief.</p> + +<p>They reported having met the First Relief with eighteen refugees at the +head of Bear Valley, three having died <i>en route</i> from the cabins. +Among the survivors Mr. Reed found his wife, his daughter Virginia, and +his son James F. Reed, Jr. He learned there from his anxious wife that +their two younger children, Martha J. and Thomas K. Reed, had also left +the cabin with her, but had soon given out and been carried back and +left at the mountain camp by Messrs. Glover and Moutrey, who then +retraced their steps and rejoined the party.</p> + +<p>Consequently this Reed-Greenwood party, realizing that this was no time +for tarrying, had hurried on to the lake cabins, where Mr. Reed had the +happiness of finding his children still alive. There he and five +companions encamped upon the snow and fed and soothed the unfortunates. +Two members continued on to Aunt Betsy's abode, and Messrs. Cady and +Clark came to ours.</p> + +<p>This Relief had followed the example of its predecessor in leaving +supplies at marked caches along the trail for the return trip. +Therefore, it reached camp with a frugal amount for distribution. The +first rations were doled out with careful hand, lest harm should come +to the famishing through overeating, still, the rescuers administered +sufficient to satisfy the fiercest cravings and to give strength for +the prospective journey.</p> + +<p>While crossing Alder Creek Valley to our tent that first afternoon, +Messrs. Cady and Clark had seen fresh tracks of a bear and cubs, and in +the evening the latter took one of our guns and went in pursuit of the +game which would have been a godsend to us. It was dark when he +returned and told my mother that he had wounded the old bear near the +camp, but that she had escaped with her young through the pines into a +clump of tamarack, and that he would be able to follow her in the +morning by the blood-stains on the snow.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, the two men who had come to Aunt Betsy's with food thought +it best not to tell her that her son William had died <i>en route</i> to the +settlement with the First Relief. They selected from among her +children in camp, Solomon, Mary, and Isaac, as able to follow a leader +to the lake cabins, and thence to go with the outgoing Second Relief, +across the mountains. Hopefully, that mother kissed her three children +good-bye, and then wistfully watched them depart with their rescuers on +snowshoes. She herself was strong enough to make the journey, but +remained because there was no one to help to carry out her two youngest +children.</p> + +<p>Thirty-one of the company were still in the camps when this party +arrived, nearly all of them children, unable to travel without +assistance, and the adults were too feeble to give much aid to the +little ones upon the snow. Consequently, when my father learned that +the Second Relief comprised only ten men, he felt that he himself would +never reach the settlement. He was willing to be left alone, and +entreated mother to leave him and try to save herself and us children. +He reminded her that his life was almost spent, that she could do +little for him were she to remain, and that in caring for us children +she would be carrying on his work.</p> + +<p>She who had to choose between the sacred duties of wife and mother, +thought not of self. She looked first at her helpless little children, +then into the face of her suffering and helpless husband, and tenderly, +unhesitatingly, announced her determination to remain and care for him +until both should be rescued, or death should part them.</p> + +<a name="image-20"><!-- Image 20 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/020.jpg" height="300" width="511" +alt="From an old drawing made from description furnished by Wm. G. Murphy. ARRIVAL OF RELIEF PARTY, FEBRUARY 18, 1847"> +</center> + +<h5>From an old drawing made from description furnished by Wm. G. Murphy. ARRIVAL OF RELIEF PARTY, FEBRUARY 18, 1847</h5> + +<hr> + +<a name="image-21"><!-- Image 21 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/021.jpg" height="300" width="430" +alt="Photograph by Lynwood Abbott. DONNER LAKE"> +</center> + +<h5>Photograph by Lynwood Abbott. DONNER LAKE</h5> + +<hr> + +<p>Perplexities and heartaches multiplied with the morning hours of the +following day. Mr. Clark, being anxious to provide more food, started +early to hunt the wounded bear. He had not been gone long, when +Mr. Stone arrived from the lake cabins and told Mr. Cady that the other +members of the Relief had become alarmed at gathering storm clouds, and +had resolved to select at once the ablest among the emigrants and +hasten with them across the summit, and to leave Clark, Cady, and +himself to cut the necessary fuel for the camps, and otherwise assist +the sufferers until the Third Relief should reach them.</p> + +<p>Cady and Stone, without waiting to inform Clark, promptly decided upon +their course of action. They knew the scarcity of provisions in camp, +the condition of the trail over the mountains, the probability of long, +fierce March storms, and other obstacles which might delay future +promised relief, and, terror-stricken, determined to rejoin their +party, regardless of opposition, and return to the settlement.</p> + +<p>Mother, fearing that we children might not survive another storm in +camp, begged Messrs. Cady and Stone to take us with them, offering them +five hundred dollars in coin, to deliver us to Elitha and Leanna at +Sutter's Fort. The agreement was made, and she collected a few +keepsakes and other light articles, which she wished us to have, and +which the men seemed more than willing to carry out of the mountains. +Then, lovingly, she combed our hair and helped us to dress quickly for +the journey. When we were ready, except cloak and hood, she led us to +the bedside, and we took leave of father. The men helped us up the +steps and stood us up on the snow. She came, put on our cloaks and +hoods, saying, as if talking to herself, "I may never see you again, +but God will take care of you."</p> + +<p>Frances was six years and eight months old and could trudge along quite +bravely, but Georgia, who was little more than five, and I, lacking a +week of four years, could not do well on the heavy trail, and we were +soon taken up and carried. After travelling some distance, the men left +us sitting on a blanket upon the snow, and went ahead a short distance +where they stopped and talked earnestly with many gesticulations. We +watched them, trembling lest they leave us there to freeze. Then +Frances said,</p> + +<p>"Don't feel afraid. If they go off and leave us, I can lead you back to +mother by our foot tracks on the snow."</p> + +<p>After a seemingly long time, they returned, picked us up and took us on +to one of the lake cabins, where without a parting word, they left us.</p> + +<p>The Second Relief Party, of which these men were members, left camp on +the third of March. They took with them seventeen refugees—the Breen +and Graves families, Solomon Hook, Isaac +and <a name="IAnchorD58"></a><a href="#IndexD58">Mary Donner</a>, and Martha +and Thomas, Mr. Reed's two youngest children.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XIII"></a><h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h4>A FATEFUL CABIN—MRS. MURPHY GIVES MOTHERLY COMFORT—THE GREAT +STORM—HALF A BISCUIT—ARRIVAL OF THIRD RELIEF—"WHERE IS MY BOY?"</h4> + +<p>How can I describe that fateful cabin, which was dark as night to us +who had come in from the glare of day? We heard no word of greeting and +met no sign of welcome, but were given a dreary resting-place near the +foot of the steps, just inside the open doorway, with a bed of branches +to lie upon, and a blanket to cover us. After we had been there a short +time, we could distinguish persons on other beds of branches, and a man +with bushy hair reclining beside a smouldering fire.</p> + +<p>Soon a child began to cry, "Give me some bread. Oh, give me some meat!"</p> + +<p>Then another took up the same pitiful wail. It continued so long that I +wept in sympathy, and fastened my arms tightly around my sister +Frances' neck and hid my eyes against her shoulder. Still I heard that +hungry cry, until a husky voice shouted,</p> + +<p>"Be quiet, you crying children, or I'll shoot you."</p> + +<p>But the silence was again and again broken by that heart-rending plea, +and again and again were the voices hushed by the same terrifying +threat. And we three, fresh from our loving mother's embrace, believed +the awful menace no vain threat.</p> + +<p>We were cold, and too frightened to feel hungry, nor were we offered +food that night, but next morning Mr. Reed's little daughter Mattie +appeared carrying in her apron a number of newly baked biscuits which +her father had just taken from the hot ashes of his camp fire. Joyfully +she handed one to each inmate of the cabin, then departed to join those +ready to set forth on the journey to the settlement. Few can know how +delicious those biscuits tasted, and how carefully we caught each +dropping crumb. The place seemed drearier after their giver left us, +yet we were glad that her father was taking her to her mother in +California.</p> + +<p>Soon the great storm which had been lowering broke upon us. We were not +exposed to its fury as were those who had just gone from us, but we +knew when it came, for snow drifted down upon our bed and had to be +scraped off before we could rise. We were not allowed near the fire and +spent most of our time on our bed of branches.</p> + +<p>Dear, kind <a name="IAnchorM21"></a><a href="#IndexM21">Mrs. Murphy</a>, +who for months had taken care of her own son +Simon, and her grandson George Foster, and little James Eddy, gave us a +share of her motherly attention, and tried to feed and comfort us. +Affliction and famine, however, had well nigh sapped her strength and +by the time those plaintive voices ceased to cry for bread and meat, +her willing hands were too weakened to do much for us.</p> + +<p>I remember being awakened while there by two little arms clasped +suddenly and tightly about me, and I heard Frances say,</p> + +<p>"No, she shall not go with you. You want to kill her!"</p> + +<p>Near us stood Keseberg, the man with the bushy hair. In limping past +our sleeping place, he had stopped and said something about taking me +away with him, which so frightened my sisters that they believed my +life in danger, and would not let me move beyond their reach while we +remained in that dungeon. We spoke in whispers, suffered as much as the +starving children in Joseph's time, and were more afraid than Daniel in +the den of lions.</p> + +<p>How long the storm had lasted, we did not know, nor how many days we +had been there. We were forlorn as children can possibly be, when Simon +Murphy, who was older than Frances, climbed to his usual "look out" on +the snow above the cabin to see if any help were coming. He returned to +us, stammering in his eagerness:</p> + +<p>"I seen—a woman—on snow shoes—coming from the other camp! She's a +little woman—like <a name="IAnchorD33"></a><a href="#IndexD33">Mrs. Donner</a>. +She is not looking this way—and may +pass!"</p> + +<p>Hardly had he spoken her name, before we had gathered around him and +were imploring him to hurry back and call our mother. We were too +excited to follow him up the steps.</p> + +<p>She came to us quickly, with all the tenderness and courage needed to +lessen our troubles and soften our fears. Oh, how glad we were to see +her, and how thankful she appeared to be with us once more! We heard it +in her voice and saw it in her face; and when we begged her not to +leave us, she could not answer, but clasped us closer to her bosom, +kissed us anew for father's sake, then told how the storm had +distressed them. Often had they hoped that we had reached the cabins +too late to join the Relief—then in grieving anguish felt that we had, +and might not live to cross the summit.</p> + +<p>She had watched the fall of snow, and measured its depth; had seen it +drift between the two camps making the way so treacherous that no one +had dared to cross it until the day before her own coming; then she +induced Mr. Clark to try to ascertain if Messrs. Cady and Stone had +really got us to the cabins in time to go with the Second Relief.</p> + +<p>We did not see Mr. Clark, but he had peered in, taken observations, and +returned by nightfall and described to her our condition.</p> + +<p>John Baptiste had promised to care for father in her absence. She left +our tent in the morning as early as she could see the way. She must +have stayed with us over night, for I went to sleep in her arms, and +they were still around me when I awoke; and it seemed like a new day, +for we had time for many cherished talks. She veiled from us the +ghastliness of death, telling us Aunt Betsy and both our little cousins +had gone to heaven. She said Lewis had been first to go, and his +mother had soon followed; that she herself had carried little Sammie +from his sick mother's tent to ours the very day we three were taken +away; and in order to keep him warm while the storm raged, she had laid +him close to father's side, and that he had stayed with them until "day +before yesterday."</p> + +<p>I asked her if Sammie had cried for bread. She replied, "No, he was not +hungry, for your mother saved two of those little biscuits which the +relief party brought, and every day she soaked a tiny piece in water +and fed him all he would eat, and there is still half a biscuit left."</p> + +<p>How big that half-biscuit seemed to me! I wondered why she had not +brought at least a part of it to us. While she was talking with Mrs. +Murphy, I could not get it out of my mind. I could see that broken +half-biscuit, with its ragged edges, and knew that if I had a piece, I +would nibble off the rough points first. The longer I waited, the more +I wanted it. Finally, I slipped my arm around mother's neck, drew her +face close to mine and whispered,</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do with the half-biscuit you saved?"</p> + +<p>"I am keeping it for your sick father," she answered, drawing me closer +to her side, laying her comforting cheek against mine, letting my arm +keep its place, and my fingers stroke her hair.</p> + +<p>The two women were still talking in subdued tones, pouring the oil of +sympathy into each others' gaping wounds. Neither heard the sound of +feet on the snow above; neither knew that the Third Relief Party was +at hand, until Mr. Eddy and Mr. Foster came down the steps, and each +asked anxiously of Mrs. Murphy, "Where is my boy?"</p> + +<p>Each received the same sorrowful answer—"Dead."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XIV"></a><h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h4>THE QUEST OF TWO FATHERS—SECOND RELIEF IN DISTRESS—THIRD RELIEF +ORGANIZED AT WOODWORTH'S RELAY CAMP—DIVIDES AND ONE HALF GOES TO +SUCCOR SECOND RELIEF AND ITS REFUGEES; AND THE OTHER HALF PROCEEDS TO +DONNER LAKE—A LAST FAREWELL—A WOMAN'S SACRIFICE.</h4> + +<p>It will be remembered that Mr. Eddy, being ill, was dropped out of the +First Relief at Mule Springs in February, and sent back to Johnson's +Ranch to await the return of this party, which had promised to bring +out his family. Who can realize his distress when it returned with +eighteen refugees, and informed him that his wife and little Maggie had +perished before it reached the camps, and that it had been obliged to +leave his baby there in care of Mrs. Murphy?</p> + +<p>Disappointed and aggrieved, the afflicted father immediately set out on +horseback, hoping that he would meet his child on the trail in charge +of the Second Relief, which it seemed reasonable to expect would follow +closely in the footsteps of the first. He was accompanied by Mr. +Foster, of the Forlorn Hope, who had been forced to leave his own +little son at the camp in charge of Mrs. Murphy, its grandmother.</p> + +<p>On the evening of the second day, the two reached +<a name="IAnchorW10"></a><a href="#IndexW10">Woodworth's</a> camp, +established as a relay station pursuant to the general plan of rescue +originally adopted. They found the midshipman in snug quarters with +several men to do his bidding. He explained that the lack of competent +guides had prevented his venturing among the snow peaks. Whereupon, Mr. +Eddy earnestly assured him that the trail of those who had already gone +up outlined the way.</p> + +<p>After much deliberation, Woodworth and his men agreed to start out next +morning for the mountain camps, but tried to dissuade Mr. Eddy from +accompanying them on account of his apparent depleted condition. +Nevertheless both he and Mr. Foster remained firm, and with the party, +left the relay camp, crossed the low foothills and encamped for the +night on the Yuba River.</p> + +<p>At dusk, Woodworth was surprised by the arrival of two forlorn-looking +individuals, whom he recognized as members of the Reed-Greenwood +Relief, which had gone up the mountain late in February and was +overdue. The two implored food for themselves, also for their seven +companions and three refugees, a mile back on the trail, unable to come +farther.</p> + +<p>When somewhat refreshed, they were able to go more into detail, and the +following explanation of their plight was elicited:</p> + +<p>"One of our men, Clark, is at Donner's Camp, and the other nine of us +left the cabins near the lake on the third of March, with seventeen of +the starving emigrants. The storm caught us as we crossed the summit, +and ten miles below, drove us into camp. It got so bad and lasted so +long that our provisions gave out, and we almost froze to death cutting +wood. We all worked at keeping the fires until we were completely +exhausted, then seeing no prospects of help coming to us, we left, and +made our way down here, bringing Reed's two children and Solomon Hook, +who said he could and would walk. The other fourteen that we brought +over the summit are up there at what we call +<a name="IAnchorS39"></a><a href="#IndexS39">Starved Camp</a>. Some are +dead, the rest without food."</p> + +<p>Woodworth and two followers went at once with provisions to the near-by +sufferers, and later brought them down to camp.</p> + +<p>Messrs. Reed and Greenwood stated that every available means had been +tried by them to get the seventeen unfortunates well over the summit +before the great storm reached its height. They said the physical +condition of the refugees was such, from the very start, that no +persuasion, nor warnings, nor threats could quicken their feeble steps. +All but three of the number were children, with their hands and feet +more or less frozen. Worse still, the caches on which the party had +relied for sustenance had been robbed by wild animals, and the severity +of the storm had forced all into camp, with nothing more than a +breastwork of brush to shelter them. Mrs. Elisabeth Graves died the +first night, leaving to the party the hopeless task of caring for her +emaciated babe in arms, and her three other children between the ages +of nine and five years. Soon, however, the five-year-old followed his +mother, and the number of starving was again lessened on the third +night when Isaac Donner went to sleep beside his sister and did not +waken. The storm had continued so furiously that it was impossible to +bury the dead. Days and nights were spent in steadfast struggling +against the threatening inevitable, before the party gave up; and +Greenwood and Reed, taking the two Reed children and also Solomon Hook, +who walked, started down the mountain, hoping to save their own lives +and perhaps get fresh men to complete the pitiful work which they had +been forced to abandon.</p> + +<p>When Messrs. Reed and Greenwood closed their account of the terrible +physical and mental strain their party had undergone, "Mr. Woodworth +asked his own men of the relay camp, if they would go with him to +rescue those unfortunates at 'Starved Camp,' and received an answer in +the negative."<a name="FNanchor10"></a><a href="#Footnote_10"><sup>[10]</sup></a></p> + +<p>The following morning there was an earnest consultation, and so +hazardous seemed the trail and the work to be done that for a time all +except Eddy and Foster refused to go farther. Finally, +<a name="IAnchorS37"></a><a href="#IndexS37">John Stark</a> +stepped forward, saying,</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen, I am ready to go and do what I can for those sufferers, +without promise of pay."</p> + +<a name="image-22"><!-- Image 22 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/022.jpg" height="300" width="504" +alt="ARRIVAL OF THE CARAVAN AT SANTA FÉ"> +</center> + +<h5>ARRIVAL OF THE CARAVAN AT SANTA FÉ</h5> + +<hr> + +<a name="image-23"><!-- Image 23 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/023.jpg" height="300" width="503" +alt="ON THE BANKS OF THE SACRAMENTO RIVER"> +</center> + +<h5>ON THE BANKS OF THE SACRAMENTO RIVER</h5> + +<hr> + +<p>By guaranteeing three dollars per day to any man who would get supplies +to the mountain camps, and fifty dollars in addition to each man who +should carry a helpless child, not his own, back to the settlement, +Mr. Eddy<a name="FNanchor11"></a><a href="#Footnote_11"><sup>[11]</sup></a> secured the services of +<a name="IAnchorM16"></a><a href="#IndexM16">Hiram Miller</a>, who had just come +down with the Second Relief; and Mr. Foster hired, on the same terms, +Mr. Thompson from the relay camp. Mr. Woodworth offered like +inducements, on Government account, to the rest of his men, and before +the morning was far advanced, with William H. Eddy acting as leader, +<a name="IAnchorF14"></a><a href="#IndexF14">William Foster</a>, Hiram Miller, Mr. Thompson, +<a name="IAnchorS38"></a><a href="#IndexS38">John Stark</a>, +<a name="IAnchorO1"></a><a href="#IndexO1">Howard Oakley</a>, +and <a name="IAnchorS41"></a><a href="#IndexS41">Charles Stone</a> (who had left us little ones at the lake camp) +shouldered their packs and began the ascent.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile how fared it at Starved Camp? Mr. and Mrs. Breen being left +there with their own five suffering children and the four other poor, +moaning little waifs, were tortured by situations too heart-rending for +description, too pitiful to seem true. Suffice it to relate that Mrs. +Breen shared with baby Graves the last lump of loaf sugar and the last +drops of tea, of that which she had denied herself and had hoarded for +her own babe. When this was gone, with quivering lips she and her +husband repeated the litany and prayed for strength to meet the +ordeal,—then, turning to the unburied dead, they resorted to the only +means left to save the nine helpless little ones.</p> + +<p>When Mr. Eddy and party reached them, they found much suffering from +cold and crying for "something to eat," but not the wail which precedes +delirium and death.</p> + +<p>This <a name="IAnchorR11"></a><a href="#IndexR11">Third Relief Party</a> settled for the night upon the snow near these +refugees, who had twice been in the shadow of doom; and after giving +them food and fire, Mr. Eddy divided his force into two sections. +Messrs. Stark, Oakley, and Stone were to remain there and nurture the +refugees a few hours longer, then carry the small children, and conduct +those able to walk to Mule Springs, while Eddy and three companions +should hasten on to the cabins across the summit.<a name="FNanchor12"></a><a href="#Footnote_12"><sup>[12]</sup></a></p> + +<p>Section Two, spurred on by paternal solicitude, resumed travel at four +o'clock the following morning, and crossed the summit soon after +sunrise. The nearer they approached camp, the more anxious Messrs. Eddy +and Foster became to reach the children they hoped to find alive. +Finally, they rushed ahead, as we have seen, to the Murphy cabin. Alas! +only disappointment met them there.</p> + +<p>Even after Mrs. Murphy had repeated her pitiful answer, "Dead," the +afflicted fathers stood dazed and silent, as if waiting for the loved +ones to return.</p> + +<p>Mr. Eddy was the first to recover sufficiently for action. Presently +Simon Murphy and we three little girls were standing on the snow under +a clear blue sky, and saw Hiram Miller and Mr. Thompson coming toward +camp.</p> + +<p>The change was so sudden it was difficult to understand what had +happened. How could we realize that we had passed out of that loathsome +cabin, never to return; or that Mrs. Murphy, too ill to leave her bed, +and Keseberg, too lame to walk, by reason of a deep cleft in his heel, +made by an axe, would have to stay alone in that abode of wretchedness?</p> + +<p>Nor could we know our mother's anguish, as she stepped aside to arrange +with Mr. Eddy for our departure. She had told us at our own camp why +she would remain. She had parted from us there and put us in charge of +men who had risked much and come far to do a heroic deed. Later she had +found us, abandoned by them, in time of direst need, and in danger of +an awful death, and had warmed and cheered us back to hope and +confidence. Now, she was about to confide us to the care of a party +whose leader swore either to save us or die with us on the trail. We +listened to the sound of her voice, felt her good-bye kisses, and +watched her hasten away to father, over the snow, through the pines, +and out of sight, and knew that we must not follow. But the influence +of her last caress, last yearning look of love and abiding faith will +go with us through life.</p> + +<p>The ordeal through which she passed is thus told by Colonel +<a name="IAnchorT11"></a><a href="#IndexT11">Thornton</a>, +after a personal interview with Mr. Eddy:</p> + +<blockquote><a name="IAnchorD34"></a><a href="#IndexD34">Mrs. George Donner</a> +was able to travel. But her husband was in a +helpless condition, and she would not consent to leave him while he +survived. She expressed her solemn and unalterable purpose, which no +danger or peril could change, to remain and perform for him the last +sad office of duty and affection. She manifested, however, the +greatest solicitude for her children, and informed Mr. Eddy that she +had fifteen hundred dollars in silver, all of which she would give +him, if he would save the lives of the children.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>He informed her that he would not carry out one hundred dollars of +all she had, but that he would save her children or die in the +effort. The party had no provisions to leave for the sustenance of +these unhappy, unfortunate beings.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>After remaining about two hours, Mr. Eddy informed Mrs. Donner that +he was constrained by force of circumstances to depart. It was +certain that <a name="IAnchorD23"></a><a href="#IndexD23">George Donner</a> +would never rise from the miserable bed +upon which he had lain down, worn by toil and wasted by famine.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>A woman was probably never before placed in circumstances of greater +or more peculiar trial; but her duty and affection as a wife +triumphed over all her instincts of reason.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>The parting scene between parent and children is represented as +being one that will never be forgotten, so long as life remains or +memory performs its functions.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>My own emotions will not permit me to attempt a description which +language, indeed, has not power to delineate. It is sufficient to +say that it was affecting beyond measure; and that the last words +uttered by <a name="IAnchorD35"></a><a href="#IndexD35">Mrs. Donner</a> in tears and sobs to Mr. Eddy were, "Oh, +save, save my children!"</blockquote> + + +<a name="Footnote_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor10">[10]</a><div class=note> Extract from Thornton's work.</div> + +<a name="Footnote_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor11">[11]</a><div class=note> Thornton saw Eddy pay Hiram Miller the promised fifty +dollars after the Third Relief reached the settlement.</div> + +<a name="Footnote_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor12">[12]</a><div class=note> See McGlashan's "History of the Donner Party."</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XV"></a><h2>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<h4>SIMON MURPHY, FRANCES, GEORGIA, AND I TAKEN FROM THE LAKE CABINS BY THE +THIRD RELIEF—NO FOOD TO LEAVE—CROSSING THE SNOW—REMNANT OF THE +SECOND RELIEF OVERTAKEN—OUT OF THE SNOW—INCIDENTS OF THE +JOURNEY—JOHNSON'S RANCH—THE SINCLAIR HOME—SUTTER'S FORT.</h4> + +<p>When we left the lake cabin, we still wore the clothing we had on when +we came from our tent with Messrs. Cady and Stone. Georgia and I were +clad in quilted petticoats, linsey dresses, woollen stockings, and +well-worn shoes. Our cloaks were of a twilled material, garnet, with a +white thread interwoven, and we had knitted hoods to match. Frances' +clothing was as warm; instead of cloak, however, she wore a shawl, and +her hood was blue. Her shoes had been eaten by our starving dog before +he disappeared, and as all others were buried out of reach, mother had +substituted a pair of her own in their stead.</p> + +<p>Mr. Foster took charge of Simon Murphy, his wife's brother, and Messrs. +Eddy and Miller carried Georgia and me. Mr. Eddy always called Georgia +"my girl," and she found great favor in his eyes, because in size and +looks she reminded him of his little daughter who had perished in that +storm-bound camp.</p> + +<p>Our first stop was on the mountain-side overlooking the lake, where we +were given a light meal of bread and meat and a drink of water. When we +reached the head of the lake, we overtook <a name="IAnchorC12"></a><a href="#IndexC12">Nicholas Clark</a> and John +Baptiste who had deserted father in his tent and were hurrying toward +the settlement. Our coming was a surprise to them, yet they were glad +to join our party.</p> + +<p>After our evening allowance of food we were stowed snugly between +blankets in a snow trench near the summit of the Sierras, but were so +hungry that we could hardly get to sleep, even after being told that +more food would do us harm.</p> + +<p>Early next morning we were again on the trail. I could not walk at all, +and Georgia only a short distance at a time. So treacherous was the way +that our rescuers often stumbled into unseen pits, struggled among snow +drifts, and climbed icy ridges where to slip or fall might mean death +in the yawning depth below.</p> + +<p>Near the close of this most trying day, Hiram M. Miller put me down, +saying wearily, "I am tired of carrying you. If you will walk to that +dark thing on the mountain-side ahead of us, you shall have a nice lump +of loaf sugar with your supper."</p> + +<p>My position in the blanket had been so cramped that my limbs were stiff +and the jostling of the march had made my body ache. I looked toward +the object to which he pointed. It seemed a long way off; yet I wanted +the sugar so much that I agreed to walk. The wind was sharp. I +shivered, and at times could hardly lift my feet; often I stumbled and +would have fallen had he not held my hand tightly, as he half led, +half drew me onward. I did my part, however, in glad expectation of the +promised bit of sweetness. The sun had set before we reached our +landmark, which was a felled and blackened tree, selected to furnish +fuel for our night fire. When we children were given our evening +allowance of food, I asked for my lump of sugar, and cried bitterly on +being harshly told there was none for me. Too disappointed and fretted +to care for anything else, I sobbed myself to sleep.</p> + +<p>Nor did I waken happy next morning. I had not forgotten the broken +promise, and was lonesome for mother. When Mr. Miller told me that I +should walk that day as far as Frances and Georgia did, I refused to go +forward, and cried to go back. The result was that he used rough means +before I promised to be good and do as he commanded. His act made my +sister Frances rush to my defence, and also, touched a chord in the +fatherly natures of the other two men, who summarily brought about a +more comfortable state of affairs.</p> + +<p>When we proceeded on our journey, I was again carried by Mr. Miller in +a blanket on his back as young children are carried by Indians on long +journeys. My head above the blanket folds bobbed uncomfortably at every +lurch. The trail led up and down and around snow peaks, and under +overhanging banks that seemed ready to give way and crush us.</p> + +<p>At one turn our rescuers stopped, picked up a bundle, and carefully +noted the fresh human foot prints in the snow which indicated that a +number of persons were moving in advance. By our fire that night, Mr. +Eddy opened the bundle that we had found upon the snow, and to the +surprise of all, Frances at once recognized in it the three silk +dresses, silver spoons, small keepsakes, and articles of children's +clothing which mother had intrusted to the care of Messrs. Cady and +Stone.</p> + +<p>The spoons and smaller articles were now stowed away in the pockets of +our rescuers for safekeeping on the journey; and while we little girls +dressed ourselves in the fresh underwear, and watched our discarded +garments disappear in the fire, the dresses, which mother had planned +should come to us later in life, were remodelled for immediate use.</p> + +<p>Mr. Thompson pulled out the same sharp pocket-knife, coarse black +thread, and big-eyed needle, which he had used the previous evening, +while making Frances a pair of moccasins out of his own gauntlet +gloves. With the help of Mr. Eddy, he then ripped out the sleeves, cut +off the waists about an inch above the skirt gathers, cut slits in the +skirts for arm-holes, and tacked in the sleeves. Then, with mother's +wish in mind, they put the dove-colored silk on Frances, the light +brown on Georgia, and the dark coffee-brown on me. Pleats and laps in +the skirt bands were necessary to fit them to our necks. Strings were +tied around our waists, and the skirts tacked up until they were of +walking length. These ample robes served for cloaks as well as dresses +for we could easily draw our hands back through the sleeves and keep +our arms warm beneath the folds. Thus comfortably clad, we began +another day's journey.</p> + +<p>Before noon we overtook and passed Messrs. Oakley, Stone, and Stark, +having in charge the following refugees from Starved Camp: Mr. and Mrs. +<a name="IAnchorB14"></a><a href="#IndexB14">Patrick Breen</a> +and their five children; +<a name="IAnchorD59"></a><a href="#IndexD59">Mary Donner</a>, Jonathan Graves, +Nancy Graves, and baby Graves. Messrs. Oakley and Stone were in +advance, the former carrying Mary Donner over his shoulder; and the +latter baby Graves in his arms. Great-hearted John Stark had the care +of all the rest. He was broad-shouldered and powerful, and would stride +ahead with two weaklings at a time, deposit them on the trail and go +back for others who could not keep up. These were the remnant of the +hopeful seventeen who had started out on the third of March with the +Second Relief, and with whom mother had hoped we children would cross +the mountains.</p> + +<p>It was after dark when our own little party encamped at the crossing of +the Yuba River. The following morning Lieutenant Woodworth and +attendants were found near-by. He commended the work done by the Third +Relief; yet, to Mr. Eddy's dismay, he declared that he would not go to +the rescue of those who were still in the mountains, because the warmer +weather was melting the snow so rapidly that the lives of his men would +be endangered should he attempt to lead them up the trail which we had +just followed down. He gave our party rations, and said that he would +at once proceed to Johnson's Ranch and from there send to Mule Springs +the requisite number of horses to carry to the settlement the persons +now on the trail.</p> + +<p>Our party did not resume travel until ten o'clock that morning; +nevertheless, we crossed the snow line and made our next camp at Mule +Springs. There we caught the first breath of spring-tide, touched the +warm, dry earth, and saw green fields far beyond the foot of that cold, +cruel mountain range. Our rescuers exclaimed joyfully, "Thank God, we +are at last out of the snow, and you shall soon see Elitha and Leanna, +and have all you want to eat."</p> + +<p>Our allowance of food had been gradually increased and our improved +condition bore evidence of the good care and kind treatment we had +received. We remained several days at Mule Springs, and were +comparatively happy until the arrival of the unfortunates from Starved +Camp, who stretched forth their gaunt hands and piteously begged for +food which would have caused death had it been given to them in +sufficient quantities to satisfy their cravings.</p> + +<p>When I went among them I found my little cousin Mary sitting on a +blanket near Mr. Oakley, who had carried her thither, and who was +gently trying to engage her thoughts. Her wan face was wet with tears, +and her hands were clasped around her knee as she rocked from side to +side in great pain. A large woollen stocking covered her swollen leg +and frozen foot which had become numb and fallen into the fire one +night at Starved Camp and been badly maimed before she awakened to +feel the pain. I wanted to speak to her, but when I saw how lonesome +and ill she looked, something like pain choked off my words.</p> + +<p>Her brother Isaac had died at that awful camp and she herself would not +have lived had Mr. Oakley not been so good to her. He was now +comforting her with the assurance that he would have the foot cared for +by a doctor as soon as they should reach the settlement; and she, +believing him, was trying to be brave and patient.</p> + +<p>We all resumed travel on horseback and reached Johnson's Ranch about +the same hour in the day. As we approached, the little colony of +emigrants which had settled in the neighborhood the previous Autumn +crowded in and about the two-roomed adobe house which Mr. Johnson had +kindly set apart as a stopping place for the several relief parties on +their way to and from the mountains. All were anxious to see the +sufferers for whose rescue they had helped to provide.</p> + +<p>Survivors of the Forlorn Hope and of the First Relief were also there +awaiting the arrival of expected loved ones. There Simon Murphy, who +came with us, met his sisters and brother; Mary Graves took from the +arms of Charles Stone, her slowly dying baby sister; she received from +the hands of John Stark her brother Jonathan and her sister Nancy, and +heard of the death of her mother and of her brother Franklin at Starved +Camp. That house of welcome became a house of mourning when Messrs. +Eddy and Foster repeated the names of those who had perished in the +snows. The scenes were so heart-rending that I slipped out of doors and +sat in the sunshine waiting for Frances and Georgia, and thinking of +her who had intrusted us to the care of God.</p> + +<p>Before our short stay at the Johnson Ranch ended, we little girls had a +peculiar experience. While standing in a doorway, the door closed with +a bang upon two of my fingers. My piercing cry brought several persons +to the spot, and one among them sat down and soothed me in a motherly +way. After I was myself again, she examined the dress into which +Messrs. Thompson and Eddy had stitched so much good-will, and she said:</p> + +<p>"Let me take off this clumsy thing, and give you a little blue dress +with white flowers on it." She made the change, and after she had +fastened it in the back she got a needle and white thread and bade me +stand closer to her so that she might sew up the tear which exposed my +knees. She asked why I looked so hard at her sewing, and I replied,</p> + +<p>"My mother always makes little stitches when she sews my dresses."</p> + +<p>No amount of pulling down of the sleeves or straightening out of the +skirt could conceal the fact that I was too large for the garment. As I +was leaving her, I heard her say to a companion, "That is just as good +for her, and this will make two for my little girl." Later in the day +Frances and Georgia parted with their silks and looked as forlorn as I +in calico substitutes.</p> + +<p>Oh, the balm and beauty of that early morning when Messrs. Eddy, +Thompson, and Miller took us on horseback down the Sacramento Valley. +Under the leafy trees and over the budding blossoms we rode. Not +rapidly, but steadily, we neared our journey's end. Toward night, when +the birds had stopped their singing and were hiding themselves among +bush and bough, we reached the home of +<a name="IAnchorS19"></a><a href="#IndexS19">Mr. and Mrs. John Sinclair</a> on +the American River, thirty-five miles from Johnson's Ranch and only two +and a half from Sutter's Fort.</p> + +<p>That hospitable house was over-crowded with earlier arrivals, but as it +was too late for us to cross the river, sympathetic Mrs. Sinclair said +that she would find a place for us. Having no bed to offer, she +loosened the rag-carpet from one corner of the room, had fresh straw +put on the floor, and after supper, tucked us away on it, drawing the +carpet over us in place of quilts.</p> + +<p>We had bread and milk for supper that night, and the same good food +next day. In the afternoon we were taken across the river in an Indian +canoe. Then we followed the winding path through the tules to Sutter's +Fort, where we were given over to our half-sisters by those heroic men +who had kept their pledge to our mother and saved our lives.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XVI"></a><h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<h4>ELITHA AND LEANNA—LIFE AT THE FORT—WATCHING THE COW PATH—RETURN OF +THE FALLON PARTY—KESEBERG BROUGHT IN BY THEM—FATHER AND MOTHER DID +NOT COME.</h4> + +<p>The room in which <a name="IAnchorD11"></a><a href="#IndexD11">Elitha</a> +and <a name="IAnchorD54"></a><a href="#IndexD54">Leanna</a> were staying when we arrived at +<a name="IAnchorS47"></a><a href="#IndexS47">Sutter's Fort</a> was part of a long, low, single-story adobe building +outside the fortification walls, and like others that were occupied by +belated travellers, was the barest and crudest structure imaginable. It +had an earthen floor, a thatched roof, a batten door, and an opening in +the rear wall to serve as window.</p> + +<p>We little ones were oblivious of discomfort, however. The tenderness +with which we were received, and the bewildering sense of safety that +we felt, blinded us even to the anguish and fear which crept over our +two sisters, when they saw us come to them alone. How they suffered I +learned many years later from Elitha, who said, in referring to those +pitiful experiences:</p> + +<blockquote>After Sister Leanna and I reached the Fort with the First Relief, we +were put in different families to await our parents; but as soon as +the Second Relief was expected, we went to housekeeping, gathered +wood, and had everything ready. No one came. Then we waited and +watched anxiously for the Third Relief, and it was a sad sight to +see you three and no more.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>I went in, kindled the fire, and gave you supper. I had a bed of +shavings hemmed in with poles for father and mother. They did not +come. We five lay down upon it, and Sister Leanna and I talked long +after you three were asleep, wondering what we should do. You had no +clothes, except those you wore, so the next day I got a little +cotton stuff and commenced making you some. Sister Leanna did the +cooking and looked after you, which took all her time.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>The United States Army officer at the Port had left orders at +Captain Sutter's store, that we should be furnished with the +necessaries of life, and that was how we were able to get the food +and few things we had when you arrived.</blockquote> + +<p>Messrs. Eddy and Thompson did not tell my sisters that they had no +expectation of father's getting through, and considered mother's chance +very slight, but went directly to the Fort to report to +<a name="IAnchorM10"></a><a href="#IndexM10">Colonel McKinstrey</a> +and to Mr. Kerns what their party had accomplished, and to +inform them that Lieutenant Woodworth was about to break camp and +return to the settlement instead of trying to get relief to the four +unfortunates still at the mountain camp.</p> + +<p>Very soon thereafter, a messenger on horseback from the Fort delivered +a letter to Lieutenant Woodworth, and a <a name="IAnchorR8"></a><a href="#IndexR8">fourth party</a> was organized, +"consisting of John Stark, +<a name="IAnchorR16"></a><a href="#IndexR16">John Rhodes</a>, +<a name="IAnchorC17"></a><a href="#IndexC17">E Coffeymier</a>, +<a name="IAnchorD1"></a><a href="#IndexD1">John Del</a>, +<a name="IAnchorT24"></a><a href="#IndexT24">Daniel Tucker</a>, +Wm. Foster, and <a name="IAnchorG8"></a><a href="#IndexG8">Wm. Graves</a>. But this party proceeded no farther +than Bear Valley on account of the rapidly melting snows."<a name="FNanchor13"></a><a href="#Footnote_13"><sup>[13]</sup></a></p> + +<p>The return of the party after its fruitless efforts was not made known +to Elitha and Leanna; nor were they aware that <a name="IAnchorF1"></a><a href="#IndexF1">Thomas Fallon</a>, with six +companions, had set out for the mountain camps on the tenth of April.</p> + +<p>Neither fear nor misgivings troubled us little ones the morning we +started out, hand in hand, to explore our new surroundings. We had +rested, been washed, combed, and fed, and we believed that father and +mother would soon come to us. Everything was beautiful to our eyes. We +did not care if "the houses did look as if they were made of dry dirt +and hadn't anything but holes for windows." We watched the mothers +sitting on the door sills or on chairs near them laughing as they +talked and sewed, and it seemed good to see the little children at play +and hear them singing their dolls to sleep.</p> + +<p>The big gate to the adobe wall around Captain Sutter's home was open, +and we could look in and see many white-washed huts built against the +back and side walls, and a flag waving from a pole in front of the +large house, which stood in the middle of the ground. Cannons like +those we had seen at Fort Laramie were also peeping out of holes in +these walls, and an Indian soldier and a white soldier were marching to +and fro, each holding a gun against his shoulder, and it pointing +straight up in the air.</p> + +<a name="image-24"><!-- Image 24 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/024.jpg" height="420" width="300" +alt="ELITHA DONNER (MRS. BENJAMIN WILDER)"> +</center> + +<h5>ELITHA DONNER (MRS. BENJAMIN WILDER)</h5> + +<hr> + +<a name="image-25"><!-- Image 25 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/025.jpg" height="415" width="300" +alt="LEANNA DONNER (MRS. JOHN APP)"> +</center> + +<h5>LEANNA DONNER (MRS. JOHN APP)</h5> + +<hr> + +<a name="image-26"><!-- Image 26 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/026.jpg" height="412" width="300" +alt="MARY DONNER"> +</center> + +<h5>MARY DONNER</h5> + +<hr> + +<a name="image-27"><!-- Image 27 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/027.jpg" height="407" width="300" +alt="GEORGE DONNER, NEPHEW OF CAPT. DONNER"> +</center> + +<h5>GEORGE DONNER, NEPHEW OF CAPT. DONNER</h5> + +<hr> + +<p>Often we looked at each other and exclaimed, "How good to be here +instead of up in the snow." It was hard to go back to the house when +sisters called us. I do not remember the looks or the taste of +anything they gave us to eat. We were so eager to stay out in the +sunshine. Before long, we went to that dreary, bare room only to sleep. +Many of the women at the Fort were kind to us; gave us bread from their +scant loaves not only because we were destitute, but because they had +grateful recollection of those whose name we bore.</p> + +<p>Once a tall, freckle-faced boy, with very red hair, edged up to where I +was watching others at play, and whispered:</p> + +<p>"See here, little gal, you run get that little tin cup of yourn, and +when you see me come out of Mrs. Wimmer's house with the milk pail on +my arm, you go round yonder to the tother side of the cow-pen, where +you'll find a hole big enough to put the cup through. Then you can +watch me milk it full of the nicest milk you ever tasted. You needn't +say nothing to nobody about it. I give your little sister some last +time, and I want to do the same for you. I hain't got no mother +neither, and I know how it is."</p> + +<p>When I got there he took the cup and, as he sat down under old Bossy, +smilingly asked if I liked lots of foam. I told him I did. He milked a +faster, stronger stream, then handed me the cup, full as he could carry +it, and a white cap of foam stood above its rim. I tasted it and told +him it was too good to drink fast, but he watched me until it was all +gone. Then, saying he didn't want thanks, he hurried me back to the +children. I never saw that boy again, but have ever been grateful for +his act of pure kindness.</p> + +<p>Every day or two a horse all white with lather and dripping with sweat +would rush by, and the Indian or white man on his back would guide him +straight to Captain Kerns' quarters, where he would hand out papers and +letters. The women and children would flock thither to see if it meant +news for them. Often they were disappointed and talked a great deal +about the tediousness of the <a name="IAnchorM13"></a><a href="#IndexM13">Mexican War</a> +and the delays of Captain +Frémont's company. They wanted the war to end, and their men folk back +so that they could move and get to farming before it should be too late +to grow garden truck for family use.</p> + +<p>While they thus anxiously awaited the return of their soldiers, we kept +watch of the cow-path by which we had reached the Fort; for Elitha had +told us that we might "pretty soon see the relief coming." She did not +say, "with father and mother"; but we did, and she replied, "I hope +so."</p> + +<p>We were very proud of the new clothes she had made us; but the first +time she washed and hung them out to dry, they were stolen, and we were +again destitute. Sister Elitha thought perhaps strange Indians took +them.</p> + +<p>In May, the Fallon party arrived with horses laden with many packs of +goods, but their only refugee was +<a name="IAnchorK3"></a><a href="#IndexK3">Lewis Keseberg</a>, from the cabin near +the lake.</p> + +<p>It was evening, and some one came to our door, spoke to Elitha and +Leanna in low tones and went away. My sisters turned, put their arms +about us and wept bitterly. Then, gently, compassionately, the cruel, +desolating truth was told. Ah, how could we believe it? No anxious +watching, no weary waiting would ever bring father and mother to us +again!</p> + +<a name="Footnote_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor13">[13]</a><div class=note> Thornton.</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XVII"></a><h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<h4>ORPHANS—KESEBERG AND HIS ACCUSERS—SENSATIONAL ACCOUNTS OF THE TRAGEDY +AT DONNER LAKE—PROPERTY SOLD AND GUARDIAN APPOINTED—KINDLY +INDIANS—"GRANDPA"—MARRIAGE OF ELITHA.</h4> + +<p>The report of our affliction spread rapidly, and the well-meaning, +tender-hearted women at the Fort came to condole and weep with us, and +made their children weep also by urging, "Now, do say something +comforting to these poor little girls, who were frozen and starved up +in the mountains, and are now orphans in a strange land, without any +home or any one to care for them."</p> + +<p>Such ordeals were too overwhelming. I would rush off alone among the +wild flowers to get away from the torturing sympathy. Even there, I met +those who would look at me with great serious eyes, shake their heads, +and mournfully say, "You poor little mite, how much better it would be +if you had died in the mountains with your dear mother, instead of +being left alone to struggle in this wicked world!"</p> + +<p>This would but increase my distress, for I did not want to be dead and +buried up there under the cold, deep snow, and I knew that mother did +not want me to be there either. Had she not sent me away to save me, +and asked God, our Heavenly Father, to take care of me?</p> + +<p>Intense excitement and indignation prevailed at the Fort after Captain +Fallon and other members of his party gave their account of the +conditions found at the mountain camps, and of interviews had with +<a name="IAnchorK4"></a><a href="#IndexK4">Keseberg</a>, whom they now called, "cannibal, robber, and murderer." The +wretched man was accused by this party, not only of having needlessly +partaken of human flesh, and of having appropriated coin and other +property which should have come to us orphaned children, but also of +having wantonly taken the life of Mrs. Murphy and of my mother.</p> + +<p>Some declared him crazy, others called him a monster. Keseberg denied +these charges and repeatedly accused Fallon and his party of making +false statements. He sadly acknowledged that he had used human flesh to +keep himself from starving, but swore that he was guiltless of taking +human life. He stated that Mrs. Murphy had died of starvation soon +after the departure of the "Third Relief," and that my mother had +watched by father's bedside until he died. After preparing his body for +burial, she had started out on the trail to go to her children. In +attempting to cross the distance from her camp to his, she had strayed +and wandered about far into the night, and finally reached his cabin +wet, shivering, and grief-stricken, yet determined to push onward. She +had brought nothing with her, but told him where to find money to take +to her children in the event of her not reaching them. He stated that +he offered her food, which she refused. He then attempted to persuade +her to wait until morning, and while they were talking, she sank upon +the floor completely exhausted, and he covered her with blankets and +made a fire to warm her. In the morning he found her cold in death.</p> + +<p>Keseberg's vehement and steadfast denial of the crimes of which he +stood accused saved him from personal violence, but not from suspicion +and ill-will. Women shunned him, and children stoned him as he walked +about the fort. <a name="IAnchorC2"></a><a href="#IndexC2"><i>The California Star</i></a> printed in full the account of +the Fallon party, and blood-curdling editorials increased public +sentiment against Keseberg, stamping him with the mark of Cain, and +closing the door of every home against him.<a name="FNanchor14"></a><a href="#Footnote_14"><sup>[14]</sup></a></p> + +<p>Elitha and Leanna tried to keep us little ones in ignorance of the +report that our father's body was mutilated, also of what was said +about the alleged murder of our mother. Still we did hear fragments of +conversations which greatly disturbed us, and our sisters found it +difficult to answer some of our questions.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, more disappointments for us were brewing at the fort. +Fallon's party demanded an immediate settlement of its claim. It had +gone up the mountains under promise that its members should have not +only a <i>per diem</i> as rescuers, but also one half of all the property +that they might bring to the settlement, and they had brought valuable +packs from the camps of the Donners. Captain Fallon also had two +hundred and twenty-five dollars in gold coin taken from concealment on +Keseberg's person, and two hundred and seventy-five dollars additional +taken from a cache that Keseberg had disclosed after the Captain had +partially strangled him, and otherwise brutally treated him, to extort +information of hidden treasure.</p> + +<p>Keseberg did not deny that this money belonged to the Donners, but +asserted that it was his intention and desire to take it to the Donner +children himself as he had promised their mother.</p> + +<p>Eventually, it was agreed that the Donner properties should be sold at +auction, and that "one half of the proceeds should be handed over to +Captain Fallon to satisfy the claims of his party, and the other half +should be put into the hands of a guardian for the support of the +Donner children." <a name="IAnchorM17"></a><a href="#IndexM17">Hiram Miller</a> +was appointed guardian by Alcalde +Sinclair.</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding these plans for our well-being, unaccountable delays +followed, making our situation daily more trying.</p> + +<p>Elitha was not yet fifteen years of age, and Leanna was two years +younger. They had not fully recovered from the effects of their long +privations and physical sufferings in the mountains; and the loss of +parents and means of support placed upon them responsibilities greater +than they could carry, no matter how bravely they strove to meet the +situation. "How can we provide for ourselves and these little +sisters?" was a question which haunted them by night and perplexed +them by day.</p> + +<p>They had no way of communicating with our friends in Eastern States, +and the women at the Fort could ill afford to provide longer for us, +since their bread winners were still with Frémont, and their own +supplies were limited. Finally, my two eldest sisters were given +employment by different families in exchange for food, which they +shared with us; but it was often insufficient, and we little ones +drifted along forlornly. Sometimes home was where night overtook us.</p> + +<p>Often, we trudged to the <i>rancheria</i> beyond the pond, made by the +adobe-moulders who had built the houses and wall surrounding the fort. +There the Indian mothers were good to us. They gave us shreds of smoked +fish and dried acorns to eat; lowered from their backs the queer little +baby-beds, called "bickooses," and made the chubby faces in them laugh +for our amusement. They also let us pet the dogs that perked up their +ears and wagged their tails as our own Uno used to do when he wanted to +frolic. Sometimes they stroked our hair and rubbed the locks between +their fingers, then felt their own as if to note the difference. They +seemed sorry because we could not understand their speech.</p> + +<p>The pond also, with its banks of flowers, winding path, and dimpling +waters, had charms for us until one day's experience drove us from it +forever. We three were playing near it when a joyous Indian girl with a +bundle of clothes on her head ran down the bank to the water's edge. +We, following, watched her drop her bundle near a board that sloped +from a rock into nature's tub, then kneel upon the upper end and souse +the clothes merrily up and down in the clear water. She lathered them +with a freshly gathered soap-root and cleansed them according to the +ways of the Spanish mission teachers. As she tied the wet garments in a +bundle and turned to carry them to the drying ground, Frances espied +some loose yellow poppies floating near the end of the board and lay +down upon it for the purpose of catching them.</p> + +<p>Georgia and I saw her lean over and stretch out her hand as far as she +could reach; saw the poppies drift just beyond her finger tips; saw her +lean a little farther, then slip, head first, into the deep water. Such +shrieks as terrified children give, brought the Indian girl quickly to +our aid. Like a flash, she tossed the bundle from her head, sprang into +the water, snatched Frances as she rose to the surface, and restored +her to us without a word. Before we had recovered sufficiently to +speak, she was gone.</p> + +<p>Not a soul was in sight when we started toward the Fort, all +unconscious of what the inevitable "is to be" was weaving into our +lives.</p> + +<p>We were too young to keep track of time by calendar, but counted it by +happenings. Some were marked with tears, some with smiles, and some +stole unawares upon us, just as on that bright June evening, when we +did not find our sisters, and aimlessly followed others to the little +shop where a friendly-appearing elderly man was cutting slices of meat +and handing them to customers. We did not know his name, nor did we +realize that he was selling the meat he handed out, only that we wanted +some. So, after all the others had gone, we addressed him, asking,</p> + +<p>"Grandpa, please give us a little piece of meat."</p> + +<p>He looked at us, and inquired whose children we were, and where we +lived. Upon learning, he turned about, lifted a liver from a wooden peg +and cut for each, a generous slice.</p> + +<p>On our way out, a neighbor intercepted us and said that we should sleep +at her house that night and see our sisters in the morning. She also +gave us permission to cook our pieces of liver over her bed of live +coals. Frances offered to cook them all on her stick, but Georgia and I +insisted that it would be fun for each to broil her own. I, being the +smallest child, was given the shortest stick, and allowed to stand +nearest the fire. Soon the three slices were sizzling and browning from +the ends of three willow rods, and smelled so good that we could hardly +wait for them to be done. Presently, however, the heat began to burn my +cheeks and also the hand that held the stick. The more I wiggled about, +the hotter the fire seemed, and it ended in Frances having to fish my +piece of liver from among the coals, burned in patches, curled over +bits of dying embers, and pretty well covered with ashes, but she knew +how to scrape them away, and my supper was not spoiled.</p> + +<p>Our neighbor gave us breakfast next morning and spruced us up a bit, +then led us to the house where a number of persons had gathered, most +of them sitting at table laughing and talking, and among them, Elitha +and Leanna. Upon our entrance, the merriment ceased and all eyes were +turned inquiringly toward us. Some one pointed to him who sat beside +our eldest sister and gayly said, "Look at your new brother." Another +asked, "How do you like him?" We gazed around in silent amazement until +a third continued teasingly, "She is no longer Elitha Donner, but Mrs. +Perry McCoon. You have lost your sister, for her husband will take her +away with him." "Lost your sister!" Those harrowing words stirred our +pent feelings to anguish so keen that he who had uttered them in sport +was touched with pity by the pain they caused.</p> + +<p>Tears came also to the child-wife's eyes as she clasped her arms about +us soothingly, assuring us that she was still our sister, and would +care for us. Nevertheless, she and her husband slipped away soon on +horseback, and we were told that we were to stay at our neighbor's +until they returned for us.</p> + +<p>This marriage, which was solemnized by Alcalde John Sinclair on the +fourth of June, 1847, was approved by the people at the Fort. Children +were anxious to play with us because we had "a married sister and a new +brother." Women hurried through noon chores to meet outside, and some +in their eagerness forgot to roll down their sleeves before they began +to talk. One triumphantly repeated to each newcomer the motherly advice +which she gave the young couple when she "first noticed his affection +for that sorrowing girl, who is too pretty to be in this new country +without a protector." They also recalled how +<a name="IAnchorM4"></a><a href="#IndexM4">Perry McCoon's</a> launch had +brought supplies up the river for the Second Relief to take over the +mountains; and how finally, he himself had carried to the bereaved +daughter the last accounts from Donner Camp.</p> + +<p>Then the speakers wondered how soon Elitha would be back. Would she +take us three to live with her on that cattle ranch twenty-five miles +by bridle trail from the Fort? And would peace and happiness come to us +there?</p> + +<a name="Footnote_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor14">[14]</a><div class=note> See Appendix for account of the Fallon party, quoted from +Thornton's work.</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a><h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + +<h4>"GRANDMA"—HAPPY VISITS—A NEW HOME—AM PERSUADED TO LEAVE IT.</h4> + +<p>We were still without Elitha, when up the road and toward the Fort came +a stout little old woman in brown. On one arm she carried a basket, and +from the hand of the other hung a small covered tin pail. Her apron was +almost as long as her dress skirt, which reached below her ankles, yet +was short enough to show brown stockings above her low shoes. Two ends +of the bright kerchief which covered her neck and crossed her bosom +were pinned on opposite sides at the waist-line. A brown quilted hood +of the same shade and material as her dress and apron concealed all but +the white lace frill of a "grandma cap," which fastened under her chin +with a bow. Her dark hair drawn down plain to each temple was coiled +there into tiny wheels, and a brass pin stuck through crosswise to hold +each coil in place. Her bright, speaking eyes, more brown than gray, +gave charm to a face which might have been pretty had disease not +marred it in youth.</p> + +<p>As she drew near, her wonderful eyes looked into our faces and won from +our lips a timid "Good morning, grandma."</p> + +<p>That title, which we had been taught to use when speaking to the aged, +was new and sweet to her, who had never been blessed with child. She +set the basket on the ground, put the pail beside it, and caressed us +in a cheery way, then let us peep in and see what she had brought +especially for us. How did it happen? That is something we were to +learn later. Such luxuries,—eggs, bread, butter, cheese, and milk in +the dear little tin pail!</p> + +<p>Seeing how thin and hungry we looked she gave each a piece of buttered +bread before going with us to our neighbor's house, where she left the +food, with instructions, in broken English, that it was for us three +little girls who had called her "grandma," and that we must not be +given too much at a time.</p> + +<p>When next grandma came she took puny Georgia home with her, and left me +hugging the promise that I also should have a visit, if I would await +my turn patiently.</p> + +<p>Who can picture my delight when Georgia got back and told me of all she +had seen? Cows, horses, pigs, and chickens, but most thrilling of all +was about the cross old sheep, which would not let her pass if she did +not carry a big stick in sight. Still, I should not have been so eager +to go, nor so gleeful on the way, had I known that the "good-bye" kiss +I gave my sister Frances at parting that day, would be the last kiss in +five long years.</p> + +<p>Grandma was as happy as I. She could understand English better than she +could speak it, and in answering my questions, explained largely by +signs. "Courage," her gray poodle, left deep footprints in the dust, +as he trotted ahead over the well-known road, and I felt an increasing +affection for him upon learning that he, too, had crossed the plains in +an emigrant wagon and had reached the Fort at about the same time I had +reached the snow. He was so small that I imagined he must have been a +wee baby dog when he started, and that he was not yet half grown. My +surprise and admiration quickened beyond expression when grandma +assured me that he could do many tricks, understood French and German, +and was learning English.</p> + +<p>Then she laughed, and explained that he was thus accomplished because +she and <a name="IAnchorB22"></a><a href="#IndexB22">Christian Brunner</a>, her husband, and Jacob, her brother-in-law, +had come from a place far away across lands and big waters where most +of the people spoke both French and German and that they had always +talked to Courage in one or the other of these languages.</p> + +<p>As soon as we got into the house she opened the back door and called +"Jacob!" Then turning, she took a small cup of rennet clabber from the +shelf, poured a little cream over it, put a spoon in it, and set it on +the table before me. While I was eating, a pleasant elderly man came in +and by nods, motions, and words, partly English and partly something +else, convinced me that he liked little girls, and was glad to see me. +Then of a sudden, he clasped his hands about my waist and tossed me in +the air as father did before his hand was hurt, and when he wanted to +startle me, and then hear me laugh. This act, which brought back +loving memories, made Jacob seem nearer to me; nearer still when he +told me I must not call him anything but Jakie.</p> + +<p>Everything about the house was as Georgia had described. Even the big +stick she had used to keep the old sheep from butting her over was +behind the door where she had left it.</p> + +<p>When <a name="IAnchorB23"></a><a href="#IndexB23">Christian Brunner</a> got home from the Fort, grandma had supper +nearly ready, and he and I were friends the instant we looked into each +other's face; for he was "grandpa" who had given us the liver the +evening we did not find our sisters. He had gone home that night and +said: "Mary, at the Fort are three hungry little orphan girls. Take +them something as soon as you can. One child is fair, two are dark. You +will know them by the way they speak to you."</p> + +<p>Grandpa had now hastened home to hold me on his lap and to hear me say +that I was glad to be at his house and intended to help grandma all I +could for being so good as to bring me there. After I told how we had +cooked the liver and how good it tasted, he wiped his eyes and said: +"Mine child, when you little ones thanked me for that liver, it made me +not so much your friend as when you called me 'grandpa.'"</p> + +<p>As time went on, grandma declared that I helped her a great deal +because I kept her chip-box full, shooed the hens out of the house, +brought in the eggs, and drove the little chicks to bed, nights. I +don't recollect that I was ever tired or sleepy, yet I know that the +night must have sped, between the time of my last nod at the funny +shadow picture of a rabbit which Jakie made hop across the wall behind +the lighted candle, and Courage's barking near my pillow, which grandma +said meant, "Good-morning, little girl!"</p> + +<p>It was after one of these reminders of a new day that I saw +<a name="IAnchorD55"></a><a href="#IndexD55">Leanna</a>. I +don't know when or how she came, but I missed Frances and Georgia the +more because I wanted them to share our comforts. Nevertheless a +strange feeling of uneasiness crept over me as I noticed, later, that +grandpa lingered and that the three spoke long in their own tongue, and +glanced often toward me.</p> + +<p>Finally grandpa and Jakie went off in the wagon and grandma also +disappeared, but soon returned, dressed for a trip to the Fort, and +explained that she had heard that Georgia was sick and she would take +me back and bring her in my place. I had known from the beginning that +I was to stay only a little while, yet I was woefully disturbed at +having my enjoyment so abruptly terminated. My first impulse was to +cry, but somehow, the influence of her who under the soughing pines of +the Sierras had told me that "friends do not come quickly to a cry-baby +child" gave me courage, and I looked up into the dear old face before +me and with the earnestness of an anxious child asked, "Grandma, why +can't you keep two of us?"</p> + +<p>She looked at me, hesitated, then replied, "I will see." She kissed +away my fears and rode off on old Lisa. I did not know that she would +ride farther than the fort and imagined she had gone on horseback so +that she might the easier bring back my little sister.</p> + +<p>Leanna washed the dishes and did the other work before she joined me in +watching for grandma's return. At last she came in sight and I ran up +the road craning my neck to see if Georgia were really behind on old +Lisa's back, and when I saw her pinched face aglow with smiles that +were all for me, I had but one wish, and that was to get my arms around +her.</p> + +<p>One chair was large enough to hold us both when we got into the house, +and the big clock on the wall with long weights reaching almost to the +floor and red roses painted around its white face, did not tick long +before we were deaf to its sound, telling each other about the doings +of the day.</p> + +<p>She knew more than I, who listened intently as she excitedly went on:</p> + +<p>"Me and Frances started to find you this morning, but we wasn't far +when we met Jacob in the wagon, and he stopped and asked us where we +was going. We told him. Then he told us to get in by him. But he didn't +come this way, just drove down to the river and some men lifted us out +and set us in a boat and commenced to paddle across the water. I knew +that wasn't the way, and I cried and cried as loud as I could cry, and +told them I wanted to go to my little sister Eliza, and that I'd tip +the boat over if they did not take me back; and one man said, 'It's too +bad! It ain't right to part the two littlest ones.' And they told me if +I'd sit still and stop crying they would bring me back with them by +and by, and that I should come to you. And I minded.</p> + +<p>"Then they taked us to that house where we sleeped under the carpet the +night we didn't get to the Fort. Don't you remember? Well, lots of +people was there and talked about us and about father and mother, and +waited for grandma to come. Pretty soon grandma come, and everybody +talked, and talked. And grandma told them she was sorry for us, and +would take you and me if she could keep Leanna to help her do the work. +When I was coming away with grandma, Frances cried like everything. She +said she wanted to see you, and told the people mother said we should +always stay together. But they wouldn't let her come. They've gived her +to somebody else, and now she is their little girl."</p> + +<p>We both felt sorry for Frances, and wished we could know where she was +and what she was doing.</p> + +<p>While we were talking, grandma kept busily at work, and sometimes she +wiped her face with the corner of her apron, yet we did not think of +her as listening, nor of watching us, nor would we ever have known it, +had we not learned it later from her own lips, as she told others the +circumstances which had brought us into her life.</p> + +<p>Some days later Georgia and I were playing in the back yard when Leanna +appeared at the door and called out in quick, jubilant tones: +"Children, run around to the front and see who has come!"</p> + +<p>True enough, hitched to a stake near the front door was a bay horse +with white spots on his body and a white stripe down his face, and tied +to the pommel of his saddle was another horse with a side saddle on its +back. It did not take us long to get into the house where we found +Elitha and our new brother, who had come to arrange about taking us +away with them. While Elitha was talking to grandma and Leanna, Georgia +stood listening, but I sat on my new brother's knee and heard all about +his beautiful spotted horse and a colt of the same colors.</p> + +<p>Elitha could not persuade Leanna or Georgia to go with her, nor was I +inclined to do so when she and grandma first urged me. But I began to +yield as the former told me she was lonesome; wanted at least one +little sister to live with her, and that if I would be that one, I +should have a new dress and a doll with a face. Then my new brother +settled the matter by saying: "Listen to me. If you'll go, you shall +have the pinto colt that I told you about, a little side saddle of your +own, and whenever you feel like it, you can get on it and ride down to +see all the folks." The prospects were so alluring that I went at once +with Leanna, who was to get me ready for the journey.</p> + +<p><a name="IAnchorD56"></a><a href="#IndexD56">Leanna</a> did not share my enthusiasm. +She said I was a foolish little +thing, and declared I would get lonesome on such a big place so far +away; that the colt would kick me if I tried to go near it, and that no +one ever made saddles for colts. She was not so gentle as usual when +she combed my hair and gave my face a right hard scrubbing with a cloth +and whey, which grandma bade her use, "because it makes the skin so +nice and soft."</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding these discouragements, I took my clothes, which were +tied up in a colored handkerchief, kissed them all good-bye, and rode +away sitting behind my new brother on the spotted horse, really +believing that I should be back in a few days on a visit.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XIX"></a><h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2> + +<h4>ON A CATTLE RANCH NEAR THE COSUMNE RIVER—"NAME BILLY"—INDIAN GRUB +FEAST.</h4> + +<p>We left the Fort and grandma's house far behind, and still rode on and +on. The day was warm, the wild flowers were gone, and the plain was +yellow with ripening oats which rustled noisily as we passed through, +crowding and bumping their neighborly heads together. Yet it was not a +lonesome way, for we passed elk, antelope, and deer feeding, with +pretty little fawns standing close to their mothers' sides. There were +also sleek fat cattle resting under the shade of live oak trees, and +great birds that soared around overhead casting their shadows on the +ground. As we neared the river, smaller birds of brighter colors could +be heard and seen in the trees along the banks where the water flowed +between, clear and cold.</p> + +<p>All these things my sister pointed out to me as we passed onward. It +was almost dark before we came in sight of the adobe ranch house. We +were met on the road by a pack of Indian dogs, whose fierce looks and +savage yelping made me tremble, until I got into the house where they +could not follow.</p> + +<p>The first weeks of my stay on the ranch passed quickly. +<a name="IAnchorD12"></a><a href="#IndexD12">Elitha</a> and I +were together most of the time. She made my new dress and a doll +which, was perfection in my eyes, though its face was crooked, and its +pencilled hair was more like pothooks than curls. I did not see much of +her husband, because in the mornings he rode away early to direct his +Indian cattle-herders at the <i>rodeos</i>, or to oversee other ranch work, +and I was often asleep when he returned nights.</p> + +<p>The pinto colt he had promised me was, as Leanna had said, "big enough +to kick, but too small to ride," and I at once realized that my +anticipated visits could not be made as planned.</p> + +<p>Occasionally, men came on horseback to stay a day or two, and before +the summer was over, a young couple with a small baby moved into one +part of our house. We called them +<a name="IAnchorP1"></a><a href="#IndexP1">Mr. and Mrs. Packwood</a> and Baby +Packwood. The mother and child were company for my sister, while the +husbands talked continually of ranches, cattle, hides, and tallow, so I +was free to roam around by myself.</p> + +<p>In one of my wanderings I met a sprightly little Indian lad, whose face +was almost as white as my own. He was clad in a blue and white shirt +that reached below his knees. Several strings of beads were around his +neck, and a small bow and arrow in his hand. We stopped and looked at +each other; were pleased, yet shy about moving onward or speaking. I, +being the larger, finally asked,</p> + +<p>"What's your name?"</p> + +<p>To my great delight, he answered, "Name, Billy."</p> + +<p>While we were slowly getting accustomed to each other, a good-natured +elderly squaw passed. She wore a tattered petticoat, and buttons, +pieces of shell, and beads of bird bones dangled from a string around +her neck. A band of buckskin covered her forehead and was attached to +strips of rawhide, which held in place the water-tight basket hanging +down her back. Billy now left me for her, and I followed the two to +that part of our yard where the tall ash-hopper stood, which ever after +was like a story book to me.</p> + +<p>The squaw set the basket on the ground, reached up, and carefully +lifted from a board laid across the top of the hopper, several pans of +clabbered milk, which she poured into the basket. Instead of putting +the pans back, she tilted them up against the hopper, squatted down in +front and with her slim forefinger, scraped down the sides and bottom +of each pan so that she and Billy could scoop up and convey to their +mouths, by means of their three crooked fingers, all that had not gone +into the basket. Then she licked her improvised spoon clean and dry; +turned her back to her burden; replaced the band on her forehead; and +with the help of her stick, slowly raised herself to her feet and +quietly walked away, Billy after her.</p> + +<p>Next day I was on watch early. My kind friend, the choreman, let me go +with him when he carried the lye from the hopper to the soap fat +barrel. Then he put more ashes on the hopper and set the pans of milk +in place for the evening call of Billy and his companion.</p> + +<a name="image-28"><!-- Image 28 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/028.jpg" height="518" width="300" +alt="PAPOOSES IN BICKOOSES"> +</center> + +<h5>PAPOOSES IN BICKOOSES</h5> + +<hr> + +<a name="image-29"><!-- Image 29 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/029.jpg" height="300" width="345" +alt="SUTTER'S MILL, WHERE MARSHALL DISCOVERED GOLD, JANUARY 19, 1848"> +</center> + +<h5>SUTTER'S MILL, WHERE MARSHALL DISCOVERED GOLD, JANUARY 19, 1848</h5> + +<hr> + +<p>He pointed out the <i>rancheria</i> by the river where the Indian herders +lived with others of their tribe, among them, Billy and his mother. +He also informed me that the squaws took turns in coming for the milk, +and that Billy came as often as he got the chance; that he was a nice +little fellow, who had learned a few English words from his white papa, +who had gone off and left him.</p> + +<p>Billy and I might never have played together as we did, if my +brother-in-law had not taken his wife to San Francisco and left me in +the care of Mr. and Mrs. Packwood. Their chief aim in life was to +please their baby. She was a dear little thing when awake, but the +house had to be kept very still while she slept, and they would raise a +hand and say, "Hu-sh!" as they left me, and together tip-toed to the +cradle to watch her smile in her sleep. I had their assurance that they +would like to let me hold her if her little bones were not so soft that +I might break them.</p> + +<p>They were never unkind or cross to me. I had plenty to eat, and clean +clothes to wear, but they did not seem to realize how I yearned for +some one to love. So I went to Mr. Choreman. He told me about the +antelope that raced across the ranch before I was up; of the elk, deer, +bear, and buffalo he had shot in his day; and of beaver, otter, and +other animals that he had trapped along the rivers. Entranced with his +tales I became as excited as he, while listening to the dangers he had +escaped.</p> + +<p>One day he showed me a little chair which I declared was the cunningest +thing I had ever seen. It had a high, straight back, just like those in +the house, only that it was smaller. The seat was made of strips of +rawhide woven in and out so that it looked like patchwork squares. He +let me sit on it and say how beautiful it was, before telling me that +he had made it all for me. I was so delighted that I jumped up, clasped +it in my arms and looked at him in silent admiration. I do not believe +that he could understand how rich and grateful I felt, although he +shook his head saying, "You are not a bit happier than I was while +making it for you, nor can you know how much good it does me to have +you around."</p> + +<p>Gradually, Billy spent more time near the ranch house, and learned many +of my kind of words, and I picked up some of his. Before long, he +discovered that he could climb up on the hopper, and then he helped me +up. But I could not crook my fingers into as good a spoon as he did +his, and he got more milk out of the pan than I.</p> + +<p>We did not think any one saw us, yet the next time we climbed up, we +found two old spoons stuck in a crack, in plain sight. After we got +through using them, I wiped them on my dress skirt and put them back. +Later, I met Mr. Choreman, who told me that he had put the spoons there +because I was too nice a little girl to eat as Billy did, or to dip out +of the same pan. I was ashamed and promised not to do so again, nor to +climb up there with him.</p> + +<p>As time passed, I watched wistfully for my sister's return, and thought +a great deal about the folks at grandma's. I tried to remember all that +had happened while I was there, and felt sure they were waiting for me +to pay the promised visit. A great longing often made me rush out +behind a large tree near the river, where no one could see or hear me +feel sorry for myself, and where I would wonder if God was taking care +of the others and did not know where I lived.</p> + +<p>I still feel the wondrous thrill, and bid my throbbing heart beat +slower, when I recall the joy that tingled through every part of my +being on that evening when, unexpectedly, Leanna and Georgia came to +the door. Yet, so short-lived was that joy that the event has always +seemed more like a disquieting dream than a reality; for they came at +night and were gone in the morning, and left me sorrowing.</p> + +<p>A few months ago, I wrote to <a name="IAnchorD46"></a><a href="#IndexD46">Georgia</a> (now Mrs. Babcock), who lives in +the State of Washington, for her recollections of that brief reunion, +and she replied:</p> + +<blockquote>Before we went to Sonoma with <a name="IAnchorB27"></a><a href="#IndexB27">Grandma Brunner</a> in the Fall of 1847, +Leanna and I paid you a visit. We reached your home at dusk. Mr. +McCoon and Elitha were not there. We were so glad to meet, but our +visit was too short. You and I were given a cup of bread and milk +and sent to bed. Leanna ate with the grown folks, who, upon learning +that we had only come to say good-bye, told her we must for your +sake get away before you awoke next morning. We arose and got +started early, but had only gone a short distance when we heard your +pitiful cry, begging us to take you with us. Leanna hid her face in +her apron, while a man caught you and carried you back. I think she +cried all the way home. It was so hard to part from you.</blockquote> + +<p>Mr. Packwood carried me into the house, and both he and his wife felt +sorry for me. My head ached and the tears would come as often as any +one looked at me. Mrs. Packwood wet a piece of brown paper, laid it on +my forehead, and bade me lie on my bed until I should feel better. I +could not eat or play, and even Mr. Choreman's bright stories had lost +their charm.</p> + +<p>"Come look, see squaw, papoose! Me go, you go?" exclaimed Billy +excitedly one soft gray morning after I had regained my spirits. I +turned in the direction he pointed and saw quite a number of squaws +trudging across an open flat with babies in bickooses, and larger +children scampering along at various paces, most of them carrying +baskets.</p> + +<p>With Mrs. Packwood's permission, Billy and I sped away to join the +line. I had never been granted such a privilege before, and had no idea +what it all meant.</p> + +<p>As we approached the edge of the marsh, the squaws walked more slowly, +with their eyes fixed upon the ground. Every other moment some of them +would be down, digging in the earth with forefinger or a little stick, +and I soon learned they were gathering bulbs about a quarter of an inch +in thickness and as large around as the smaller end of a woman's +thimble. I had seen the plants growing near the pond at the fort, but +now the bulbs were ripe, and were being gathered for winter use. In +accordance with the tribal custom, not a bulb was eaten during harvest +time. They grew so far apart and were so small that it took a long +while to make a fair showing in the baskets.</p> + +<p>When no more bulbs could be found, the baskets were put on the ground +in groups, and the mothers carefully leaned their bickooses against +them in such positions that the wide awake papooses could look out from +under their shades and smile and sputter at each other in quaint Indian +baby-talk; and the sleeping could sleep on undisturbed.</p> + +<p>That done, the squaws built a roaring fire, and one of them untied a +bundle of hardwood sticks which she had brought for the purpose, and +stuck them around under the fuel in touch with the hottest parts of the +burning mass. When the ends glowed like long-lasting coals, the waiting +crowd snatched them from their bed and rushed into the low thicket +which grew in the marsh. I followed with my fire-brand, but, not +knowing what to do with it, simply watched the Indians stick theirs +into the bushes, sometimes high up, sometimes low down. I saw them +dodge about, and heard their shouts of warning and their peals of +laughter. Then myriads of hornets came buzzing and swarming about. This +frightened me so that I ran back to where the brown babies were cooing +in safety.</p> + +<p>Empty-handed, but happy, they at length returned, and though I could +not understand anything they were saying, their looks and actions +betokened what a good time they had had.</p> + +<p>Years later, I described the scene to Elitha, who assured me that I had +been highly favored by those Indians for they had permitted me to +witness their annual "<a name="IAnchorI8"></a><a href="#IndexI8">Grub Feast</a>." The Piutes always use burning fagots +to drive hornets and other stinging insects from their nests, and they +also use heat in opening the comb cells so that they can easily remove +the larvae, which they eat without further preparation.</p> + +<p>With the first cold snaps of winter, my feet felt the effect of former +frost bites, and I was obliged to spend most of my time within doors. +Fortunately Baby Packwood had grown to be quite a frolicsome child. She +was fond of me, and her bones had hardened so that there was no longer +danger of my breaking them when I lifted her or held her on my lap. Her +mother had also discovered that I was anxious to be helpful, pleased +when given something to do, and proud when my work was praised.</p> + +<p>I was quite satisfied with my surroundings, when, unexpectedly, Mr. +McCoon brought my sister back, and once more we had happy times +together.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XX"></a><h2>CHAPTER XX</h2> + +<h4>I RETURN TO GRANDMA—WAR RUMORS AT THE FORT—LINGERING HOPE THAT MY +MOTHER MIGHT BE LIVING—AN INDIAN CONVOY—THE BRUNNERS AND THEIR HOME.</h4> + +<p>The Spring of 1848 was at hand when my brother-in-law said to me, +"<a name="IAnchorB28"></a><a href="#IndexB28">Grandma Brunner</a> wants you to come back to her; and if, you would like +to go, I'll take you to the Fort, as soon as the weather changes, and +leave you with the people who are getting ready to move north and are +willing to take you with them to Sonoma, where grandma now lives."</p> + +<p>The storm was not over, but the day was promising, when my bundle of +clothes was again on the pommel of the saddle, and I ready to begin my +journey. I was so excited that I could hardly get around to say +good-bye to those who had gathered to see me off. We returned by the +same route that we had followed out on that warm June day, but +everything seemed different. The catkins on the willows were forming +and the plain was green with young grass.</p> + +<p>As we neared the Fort we passed a large camp of fine-looking Indians +who, I was told, were the friendly Walla-Wallas, that came every spring +to trade ponies, and otter, and beaver-skins with Captain Sutter for +provisions, blankets, beads, gun caps, shot, and powder.</p> + +<p>A large emigrant wagon stood near the adobe house where my new +brother-in-law drew rein. Before dismounting, he reached back, took me +by the arm and carefully supported me as I slid from the horse to the +ground. I was so stiff that I could hardly stand, but he led me to the +door where we were welcomed by a good-natured woman, to whom he said,</p> + +<p>"Well, Mrs. Lennox, you see I've brought the little girl. I don't think +she'll be much trouble, unless she talks you to death."</p> + +<p>Then he told her that I had, during the ride, asked him more questions +than a man six times his size could answer. But she laughed, and +"'lowed" that I couldn't match either of her three boys in asking +questions, and then informed him that she did not "calculate on making +the move until the roads be dryer and the weather settled." She +promised, however, that I should have good care until I could be handed +over to the Brunners. After a few words with her in private +Perry McCoon bade me good-bye, and passed out of my life forever.</p> + +<p>I was now again with emigrants who had crossed the plains in 1846, but +who had followed the Fort Hall route and so escaped the misfortunes +that befell the <a name="IAnchorD64"></a><a href="#IndexD64">Donner Party</a>.</p> + +<p>Supper over, Mrs. Lennox made me a bed on the floor in the far corner +of the room. I must have fallen asleep as soon as my head touched the +pillow, for I remember nothing more until I was awakened by voices, and +saw the candle still burning and Mrs. Lennox and two men and a woman +sitting near the table. The man speaking had a shrill voice, and his +words were so terrifying that I shook all over; my hair felt as though +it were trying to pull itself out by its roots; a cold sweat dampened +my clothes. I was afraid to move or to turn my eyes. Listening, I tried +to remember how many Indians he was talking about. I knew it must be a +great many, for it was such a long word. After they went away and the +house was dark, I still seemed to see his excited manner and to hear +him say:</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Lennox, we've got to get out of here right away, for I heard tell +at the store before I come up that there's bound to be an Injun +outbreak. Them savages from Sonora are already on their way up, and +they'll kill and scalp every man, woman, and child they can ketch, and +there's nothing to keep them from ketching us, if we stay at this here +little fort any longer."</p> + +<p>I lay awake a long while. I did not dare call out because I imagined +some of those Indians might have got ahead of the rest and be sneaking +up to our house at that very moment. I wondered where I could hide if +they should climb through the window, and I felt that Georgia would +never know what had become of me, if they should kill and scalp me.</p> + +<p>As soon as Mrs. Lennox stirred in the morning, I ran to her and had a +good cry. She threatened all sorts of things for the man who had caused +me such torture, and declared that he believed everything he heard. He +did not seem to remember how many hundred miles away Sonora was, nor +how many loaded cannon there were at the Fort. I felt better satisfied, +however, when she told me that she had made up her mind to start for +Sonoma the next day.</p> + +<p>After breakfast her younger boys wanted to see the Walla-Wallas, and +took me along. A cold breath from the Sierra Nevadas made me look up +and shiver. Soon Captains Sutter and Kern passed us, the former on his +favorite white horse, and the latter on a dark bay. I was delighted to +catch a glimpse of those two good friends, but they did not know it. +They had been to see the Indian ponies, and before we got to the big +gate, they had gone in and the Walla-Wallas were forming in line on +both sides of the road between the gate and the front of the store.</p> + +<p>Only two Indians at a time were allowed to enter the building, and as +they were slow in making their trades, we had a good chance to see them +all. The men, the boys, and most of the women were dressed in fringed +buckskin suits and their hands and faces were painted red, as the Sioux +warriors of Fort Laramie painted their cheeks.</p> + +<p>The Lennox boys took greatest interest in the little fellows with the +bows and arrows, but I could not keep my eyes from the young princess, +who stood beside her father, the chief. She was all shimmering with +beads. They formed flowers on her moccasins; fringed the outer seams of +her doeskin trousers and the hem of her tunic; formed a stripe around +her arm holes and her belt; glittered on a band which held in place the +eagle plume in her hair; dangled from her ears; and encircled her neck +and arms. Yet she did not seem to wear one too many. She looked so +winsome and picturesque that I have never forgotten the laughing, +pretty picture.</p> + +<p>We started back over ground where my little sisters and I had wandered +the previous Spring. The people whom I remembered had since gone to +other settlements, and strangers lived in the old huts. I could not +help looking in as we passed, for I still felt that mother might not be +dead. She might have come down the mountain alone and perhaps I could +find her. The boys, not knowing why I lagged behind, tried to hurry me +along; and finally left me to go home by myself. This, not from +unkindness, but rather love of teasing, and also oblivion of the vain +hope I cherished.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Lennox let me dry the dishes for her after the noon meal, then +sent me to visit the neighbor in the next house, while she should stow +her things in the wagon and get ready for the journey. I loved this +lady<a name="FNanchor15"></a><a href="#Footnote_15"><sup>[15]</sup></a> in the next house as soon as she spoke to me, and I was +delighted with her baby, who reached out his little arms to have me +take him, and raised his head for me to kiss his lips. While he slept, +his mother sewed and talked with me. She had known my parents on the +plains, and now let me sit at her feet, giving me her workbox, that I +might look at its bobbins of different-colored thread and the pretty +needle-book. When I told her that the things looked a little like +mother's and that sometimes mother let me take the tiniest bit of her +wax, she gave me permission to take a tiny taste of that which I held +in my hand to see if it was like that which I remembered.</p> + +<p>Only she, the baby, and I sat down to tea, yet she said that she was +glad she had company, for baby's papa was away with Captain Frémont, +and she was lonesome.</p> + +<p>After I learned that she would have to stay until he came back, I was +troubled, and told what I had heard in the night. She assured me that +those in charge of the Fort heard every day all that was going on for +miles and miles around, and that if they should learn that fighting +Indians were coming, they would take all the white people and the good +Indians into the fort, and then shoot the bad ones with the cannon that +peeped through its embrasures.</p> + +<p>The dainty meal and her motherly talk kept me a happy child until I +heard the footsteps of the Lennox boys. I knew they were coming for me, +and that I should have to sleep in that dark room where I had been so +afraid. Quickly slipping from my chair, under the table, and hiding +behind my new friend's dress skirt, I begged her not to let them know +where I was, and please, to let me stay with her all night. I listened +as she sent the boys back to tell their mother that she would keep me +until morning, adding that she would step in and explain matters after +she put her baby to bed. Before I went to sleep she heard me say my +prayers and kissed me good-night.</p> + +<p>When I awoke next morning, I was not in her house, but in Mrs. Lennox's +wagon, on the way to Sonoma.</p> + +<p>The distance between the Fort and Sonoma was only about eighty miles, +yet the heavy roads and the frequent showers kept us on the journey +more than a week. It was still drizzling when we reached the town and +Mrs. Lennox learned where the Brunners lived. I had been told that they +would be looking for me, and I expected to go to them at once.</p> + +<p>As we approached the west bank of the creek, which winds south past the +town, we could see the branches on the trees in grandma's dooryard +swaying. Yet we could not reach there, because a heavy mountain storm +had turned a torrent into the creek channel, washed away the foot +bridge, and overflowed the low land. Disappointed, we encamped on high +ground to wait for the waters to recede.</p> + +<p>Toward evening, Jakie gathering his cows on the opposite side, noticed +our emigrant wagon, and oxen, and as he drew nearer recognized Mrs. +Lennox. Both signalled from where they stood, and soon he descried me, +anxious to go to him. He, also, was disappointed at the enforced delay, +and returned often to cheer us, and to note the height of the water. It +seemed to me that we had been there days and days, when a Mission +Indian on a gray pony happened to come our way, and upon learning what +was wanted, signalled that he would carry me over for a Mexican silver +dollar. Jakie immediately drew the coin from his pocket and held it +between thumb and forefinger, high above his head in the sunshine, to +show the native that his price would be paid.</p> + +<p>Quickly the Indian dismounted, looked his pony over carefully, cinched +the blanket on tighter, led him to the water's edge, and turned to me. +I shuddered, and when all was ready, drew near the deep flowing current +tremblingly, yet did not hesitate; for my loved ones were beyond, and +to reach them I was willing to venture.</p> + +<p>The Indian mounted and I was placed behind him. By sign, he warned me +not to loosen my hold, lest I, like the passing branches, should become +the water's prey. With my arms clasped tightly about his dusky form, +and his elbows clamped over them, we entered the stream. I saw the +water surge up around us, felt it splash over me! Oh, how cold it was! +I held my breath as we reached the deepest part, and in dread clung +closer to the form before me. We were going down stream, drifting past +where Jakie stood! How could I know that we were heading for the safe +slope up the bank where we landed?</p> + +<p>The Indian took his dollar with a grunt of satisfaction, and Jakie bade +me wave to the friends I had left behind, as he put me on old Lisa's +back and hurried off to grandma, Leanna, and Georgia, waiting at the +gate to welcome me home.</p> + +<p>Georgia had a number of patches of calico and other trinkets which she +had collected for me, and offered them as soon as we had exchanged +greetings, then eagerly conducted me about the place.</p> + +<p>Grandma was more energetic and busier than at the Fort, and I could +only talk with her as she worked, but there was so much to see and hear +that before nightfall my feet were heavy and my brain was weary. +However, a good sleep under the roof of those whom I loved was all the +tonic I needed to prepare me for a fair start in the new career, and +grandma's assurance, "This be your home so long as you be good," filled +me with such gladness that, childlike, I promised to be good always and +to do everything that should be required of me.</p> + +<p>Most of the emigrants in and around the Pueblo of Sonoma were Americans +from the western frontiers of the United States. They had reached the +province in the Summer or early Autumn of 1846, and for safety had +settled near this United States Army post. Here they had bought land +and made homes within neighboring distance of each other and begun life +anew in simple, happy, pioneer fashion. The Brunners were a different +type. They had immigrated from Switzerland and settled in New Orleans, +Louisiana, when young, and by toil and economy had saved the snug sum +of money which they brought to invest in California enterprises.</p> + +<p>They could speak and read French and German, and had some knowledge of +figures. Being skilled in the preparation of all the delicacies of the +meat market, and the products of the dairy, they had brought across the +plains the necessary equipment for both branches of business, and had +already established a butcher shop in the town and a dairy on the +farm, less than a mile from it.</p> + +<p>Jakie was busy and useful at both places, but grandpa was owner of the +shop, and grandma of the dairy. Her hand had the cunning of the Swiss +cheese-maker, and the deftness of the artist in butter moulding. She +was also an experienced cook, and had many household commodities +usually unknown to pioneer homes. They were thus eminently fitted for +life in a crude new settlement, and occupied an important place in the +community.</p> + +<p>A public road cut their land into two unequal parts. The cattle corrals +and sheds were grouped on one side of the road, and the family +accommodations on the other. Three magnificent oaks and a weird, +blackened tree-trunk added picturesqueness to the ground upon which the +log cabin and outbuildings stood. The trim live oak shaded the adobe +milk-room and smoke-house, while the grand old white oak spread its +far-reaching boughs over the curbed well and front dooryard.</p> + +<a name="image-30"><!-- Image 30 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/030.jpg" height="300" width="507" +alt="PLAZA AND BARRACKS OF SONOMA"> +</center> + +<h5>PLAZA AND BARRACKS OF SONOMA</h5> + +<hr> + +<a name="image-31"><!-- Image 31 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/031.jpg" height="300" width="511" +alt="ONE OF THE OLDEST BUILDINGS IN SONOMA"> +</center> + +<h5>ONE OF THE OLDEST BUILDINGS IN SONOMA</h5> + +<hr> + +<p>The log cabin was a substantial three-roomed structure. Its two outer +doors opened with latch strings and were sawed across just above the +middle, so that the lower sections might be kept closed against the +straying pigs and fowls, while the upper part remained open to help the +windows opposite give light and ventilation. The east end formed the +ample store-room with shelves for many stages of ripening cheese. The +west end served as sleeping apartment for all except Jakie. The large +middle room was set apart as kitchen and general living room. +Against its wall were braced the dear old clock and conveniences for +holding dishes, and the few keepsakes which had shared the wanderings +of their owners on two continents.</p> + +<p>The adobe chimney, which formed part of the partition between the +living and the sleeping apartment, gave a huge fireplace to each. From +the side of the one that cheered the living room, swung a crane worthy +of the great copper cheese kettle that hung on its arm. In tidy rows on +the chimney shelf stood bottles and boxes of medicine, two small brass +kettles, and six bright candlesticks with hoods, trays, and snuffers to +match. On the wide hearth beneath were ranged the old-fashioned +three-legged iron pots, dominated by the large round one, used as a +bake oven. Hovering over the fire sat the iron tea-kettle, with its +slender throat and pointed lips, now warmed to song by the blazing +logs, now rattling its lid with increasing fervor.</p> + +<p>A long table with rough redwood benches around it, a few +straight-backed chairs against the wall, and Jakie's half-concealed +bed, in the far corner, constituted the visible furnishings of this +memorable room, which was so spick and span in German order and +cleanliness, that even its clay floor had to be sprinkled in regular +spots and rings before being swept.</p> + +<p>It was under the great oaks that most of the morning work was done. +There the pails and pans were washed and sunned, the meats chopped, the +sausage made, head-cheese moulded, ham and bacon salted, and the lard +tried out over the out-door fires. Among those busy scenes, Georgia +and I spent many happy hours, and learned some of our hardest lessons; +for to us were assigned regular tasks, and we were also expected to do +the countless little errands which save steps to grown people, and are +supposed not to tire the feet of children.</p> + +<p>Grandma, stimulated by the success of her mixing and moulding, and +elated by the profit she saw in it, was often too happy and bustling to +remember how young we were, or that we got tired, or had worries of our +own to bear.</p> + +<p>Our small troubles, however, were soon forgotten, when we could slip +away for a while to the lovely playhouse which Leanna had secretly made +for us in an excavation in the back yard. There we forgot work, used +our own language, and played we were like other children; for we owned +the beautiful cupboard dug in the wall, and the pieces of Delft and +broken glass set in rows upon the shelves, also the furniture, made of +stumps and blocks of wood, and the two bottles standing behind the +brush barricade to act as sentries in case of danger during our +absence.</p> + +<p>One stolen visit to that playhouse led me into such disgrace, that +grandma did not speak to me the rest of the day, and told Jakie all +about it.</p> + +<p>In the evening, when no one else was near, he called me to him. I +obeyed with downcast head. Putting his hand under my chin, and turning +my face up, he made me look straight into his eyes, as he asked,</p> + +<p>"Who broke dat glass cup vat grandma left on die dinner table full of +milk, and telled you watch it bis Hendrik come to his dinner, or bis +she be done mit her nap?"</p> + +<p>I tried to turn my eyes down, but he would not let me, and I faltered, +"The chicken knocked it off,—but he left the door open so it could get +in."</p> + +<p>Then, he raised his other hand, shook his finger, and in awe-inspiring +tone continued: "Yes, I be sure die chicken do dat, but vot for you +tell grandma dat Heinrick do dat? Der debil makes peoples tell lies, +and den he ketch sie for his fire, und he vill ketch you, if you do dat +some more. Gott, who you mutter telled you 'bout, will not love you. I +will not love you, if you do dat some more. I be sorry for you, because +I tought you vas His little girl, and mine little girl."</p> + +<p>Jakie must have spent much time in collecting so many English words, +and they were effective, for before he got through repeating them to +me, I was as heart-sore and penitent as a child could be.</p> + +<p>After he had forgiven me, he sent me to grandma, later to acknowledge +my wrong to Hendrik, and before I slept, I had to tell God what a bad +child I had been, and ask Him to make me good.</p> + +<p>I had promised to be very careful and to try never to tell another lie, +and I had been unhappy enough to want to keep the promise. But, alas, +my sympathy for Jakie led me into more trouble, and it must have been +on Sunday too, for he was not working, but sitting reverently under the +tree with his elbows upon a table, and his cheeks resting in the +hollows of his hands. Before him lay the Holy Scriptures from which he +was slowly reading aloud in solemn tones.</p> + +<p>Georgia and I standing a short distance from him, listened very +intently. Not hearing a single English word, and not understanding many +of the German, I became deeply concerned and turning to her asked,</p> + +<p>"Aren't you awful sorry for poor Jakie? There he is, reading to God in +German, and God can't understand him. I'm afraid Jakie won't go to +heaven when he dies."</p> + +<p>My wise little sister turned upon me indignantly, assuring me that "God +sees everybody and understands everybody's talk." To prove the truth of +her statement, she rushed to the kitchen and appealed to grandma, who +not only confirmed Georgia's words, but asked me what right I had to +believe that God was American only, and could not understand good +German people when they read and spoke to Him? She wanted to know if I +was not ashamed to think that they, who had loved me, and been kind to +me would not go to Heaven as well as I who had come to them a beggar? +Then she sent me away by myself to think of my many sins; and I, +weeping, accepted banishment from Georgia, lest she should learn +wickedness from me.</p> + +<p>Georgia was greatly disturbed on my account, because she believed I had +wilfully misrepresented God, and that He might not forgive me. When +Jakie learned what had happened, he declared that I had spoken like a +child, and needed instruction more than punishment. So for the purpose +of broadening my religious views, and keeping before me the fact that +"God can do all things and knows all languages," grandma taught me the +Lord's Prayer in French and German, and heard me repeat it each night +in both languages, after I had said it as taught me by my mother.</p> + +<p>It was about this time, that Leanna confided to me that she was +homesick for Elitha, and she would go to her very soon. She said that I +must not object when the time came, for she loved her own sister just +as much as I did mine, and was as anxious to go to Elitha as I had been +to come to Georgia. She had been planning several weeks, and knew of a +family with which she could travel to Sutter's Fort. Later, when she +collected her things to go away, she left with us a pair of beautifully +knit black silk stockings, marked near the top in fine cross-stitch in +white, "D," and under that "5." The stockings had been our mother's. +She had knit them herself and worn them. Georgia gave one to me and +kept the other. We both felt that they were almost too sacred to +handle. They were our only keepsakes.</p> + +<p>Later, Georgia found a small tin box in which mother had kept important +papers. Recently, when referring to that circumstance, Georgia said: +"Grandma for a long time had used it for a white-sugar box, and kept it +on a shelf so high that we could see it only when she lifted it down; +and I don't think we took our eyes from it until it was put back. We +felt that it was too valuable for us ever to own. One day, I found it +thrown away. One side had become unsoldered from the ends and the +bottom also was hanging loose. With a full heart, I grasped the +treasure and put it where we could often see it. Long afterwards, Harry +Huff kindly offered to repair it; and the solder that still holds it +together is also regarded as a keepsake from a dear friend."</p> + +<a name="Footnote_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor15">[15]</a><div class=note> +<a name="IAnchorG9"></a><a href="#IndexG9">Mrs. Andrew J. Grayson</a>, wife of the well-known +ornithologist, frequently referred to as the "Audubon of the West."</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXI"></a><h2>CHAPTER XXI</h2> + +<h4>MORAL DISCIPLINE—THE HISTORICAL PUEBLO OF SONOMA—SUGAR PLUMS.</h4> + +<p>Grandma often declared that she loved me, and did not want to be too +severe; but, for fear that I had learned much wickedness from the +little Indians with whom I had played after I left her at the Fort, she +should watch me very closely herself, and also have Georgia tell her +whenever she should see me do wrong. Consequently, for a while after I +reached <a name="IAnchorS28"></a><a href="#IndexS28">Sonoma</a>, I was frequently on the penitential bench, and was as +often punished for fancied misdoings as for real ones. Yet, I grant +that grandma was warranted in being severe the day that she got back +from town before I was ready for her.</p> + +<p>She had left us with the promise that she would bring us something nice +if we would be good children and do certain work that she had planned. +After we had finished the task, we both became restless, wondered how +soon she would come back, and what we could do next to keep from being +lonesome. Then I espied on the upper shelf the cream-colored sugar +bowl, with the old-fashioned red roses and black foliage on its cover +and sides. Grandma had occasionally given us lumps of sugar out of it; +and I now asked Georgia if I hadn't better get it down, so that we +could each have a lump of sugar. Hesitatingly, she said, "No, I am +afraid you will break it." I assured her that I would be very careful, +and at once set a chair in place and climbed up. It was quite a strain +to reach the bowl, so I lifted it down and rested it on the lower +shelf, expecting to turn and put it into Georgia's hands. But, somehow, +before I could do this, the lid slipped off and lay in two pieces upon +the floor. Georgia cried out reproachfully,</p> + +<p>"There, you know I didn't want you to do it, and now you will get a +good whipping for breaking grandma's best sugar bowl!"</p> + +<p>I replied loftily that I was not afraid, because I would ask God to +mend it for me. She did not think He would do it, but I did. So I +matched the broken edges and put it on the chair, knelt down before it +and said "Please" when I made my request. I touched the pieces very +carefully, and pleaded more earnestly each time that I found them +unchanged. Finally, Georgia, watching at the door, said excitedly, +"Here comes grandma!"</p> + +<p>I arose, so disappointed and chagrined that I scarcely heard her as she +entered and spoke to me. I fully believed that He would have mended +that cover if she had remained away a little longer; nevertheless, I +was so indignant at Him for being so slow about it, that I stood +unabashed while Georgia told all that had happened. The whipping I got +did not make much impression, but the after talks and the banishment +from "good company" were terrible.</p> + +<p>Later, when I was called from my hiding-place, grandma saw that I had +been very miserable, and she insisted upon knowing what I had been +thinking about. Then I told her, reluctantly, that I had talked to God +and told Him I did not think that He was a very good Heavenly Father, +or He would not let me get into so much trouble; that I was mad at Him, +and didn't believe He knew how to mend dishes. She covered her face +with her apron and told me, sobbingly, that she had expected me to be +sorry for getting down her sugar bowl and for breaking its cover; that +I was so bad that I would "surely put poor old grandma's gray hair in +her grave, who had got one foot there already and the other on the +brink."</p> + +<p>This increased my wretchedness, and I begged her to live just a little +longer so that I might show her that I would be good. She agreed to +give me another trial and ended by telling me about the "beautiful, +wicked angel who had been driven out of paradise, and spends his time +coaxing people to be bad, and then remembers them, and after they die, +takes them on his fork and pitches them back and forth in his fire." +Jakie had told me his name and also the name of his home.</p> + +<p>Toward evening, my head ached, and I felt so ill that I crept close to +grandma and asked sorrowfully if she thought the devil meant to have me +die that night, and then take me to his hell. At a glance, she saw that +I suffered, and drew me to her, pillowed my head against her bosom and +soothingly assured me that I would be forgiven if I would make friends +with God and remember the lesson that I had learned that day. She told +me, later, I must never say "devil," or "hell," because it was not nice +in little girls, but that, instead, I might use the words, "blackman," +and "blackman's fires." At first, I did not like to say it that way, +because I was afraid that the beautiful devil might think that I was +calling him nicknames and get angry with me.</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding my shortcomings, the Brunners were very willing to keep +me, and strove to make a "Schweitzer child" of me, dressed me in +clothes modelled after those which grandma wore when she was small, and +by verse and legend filled my thoughts with pictures of their Alpine +country. I liked the German language, learned it rapidly and soon could +help to translate orders. Those which pleased grandma best were from +the homes of Mr. Jacob Leese, <a name="IAnchorF3"></a><a href="#IndexF3">Captain Fitch</a>, +<a name="IAnchorP8"></a><a href="#IndexP8">Major Prudon</a>, and +<a name="IAnchorV2"></a><a href="#IndexV2">General Vallejo</a>; for their patronage influenced other distinguished Spanish +families at a distance to send for her excellent cheese and fancy pats +of butter. Yet, with equal nicety, she filled the orders that came from +the mess-room of the officers of our own brave boys in blue, and always +tried to have a better kerchief and apron on the evenings that officers +and orderly rode out to pay the bills.</p> + +<p>Visitors felt more than a passing interest in us two little ones, for +accounts of the sufferings of the <a name="IAnchorD65"></a><a href="#IndexD65">Donner Party</a> had been carried to all +the settlements on the Pacific coast and had been sent in print or +writings to all parts of the United States as a warning against further +emigration to California by way of Hastings Cut-Off. Thus the name we +bore awakened sympathy for us, and in the huts of the lowly natives as +well as in the homes of the rulers of the province, we found welcome +and were greeted with words of tenderness, which were often followed by +prayers for the repose of the souls of our precious dead.</p> + +<p>Marked attentions were also shown us by officers and soldiers from the +post. The latter gathered in the evenings at the Brunner home for +social intercourse. Some played cards, checkers, and dominoes, or +talked and sang about "<i>des Deutschen Vaterland</i>." Others reviewed +happenings in our own country, recalled battles fought and victories +won. And we, sitting between our foster grandparents, or beside Jakie, +listening to their thrilling tales, were, unwittingly, crammed with +crumbs of truth and fiction that made lasting impressions upon our +minds.</p> + +<p>Nor were these odd bits of knowledge all we gained from those soldier +friends. They taught us the alphabet, how to spell easy words, and then +to form letters with pencil. They explained the meaning of fife and +drum calls which we heard during the day, and in mischievous +earnestness, declared that they, the best fighters of Colonel +Stephenson's famous regiment of New York Volunteers, had pledged their +arms and legs to our defence, and had only come to see if we were +worth the price they might have to, pay. Yet they made grim faces when, +all too soon, the retreat call from the barracks sounded, and away they +would have to go on the double quick, to be at post by the time of roll +call, and in bed at sound of taps.</p> + +<p>On those evenings when grandma visited the sick, or went from home on +errands, we children were tucked away early in our trundle bed. There, +and by ourselves, we spoke of mother and the mountains. Not +infrequently, however, our thoughts would be recalled to the present by +loud, wailing squeak-squawk, squeak-squawks. As the sound drew nearer +and became shriller, we would put our fingers in our ears to muffle the +dismal tones, which we knew were only the creakings of the two wooden +wheels of some Mexican <i>carreta</i>, laboriously bringing passengers to +town, or perhaps a cruder one carrying hides to the <i>embarcadero</i>, or +possibly supplies to adjacent <i>ranchos</i>. We wondered how old people and +mothers with sick children could travel in such uncomfortable vehicles +and not become distracted by their nerve-piercing noises. Then, like a +bird-song, pleasanter scenes would steal in upon our musings, of gay +horseback parties on their way to church feasts, or fandangos, preceded +or followed by servants in charge of pack animals laden with luggage.</p> + +<p>We rarely stayed awake long enough to say all we wished about the +Spanish people. Their methods of travel, modes of dress, and +fascinating manners were sources of never-ending discussion and +interest.</p> + +<a name="image-32"><!-- Image 32 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/032.jpg" height="300" width="517" +alt="OLD MEXICAN CARRETA"> +</center> + +<h5>OLD MEXICAN CARRETA</h5> + +<hr> + +<a name="image-33"><!-- Image 33 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/033.jpg" height="300" width="421" +alt="RESIDENCE OF JUDGE A.L. RHODES, A TYPICAL CALIFORNIA HOUSE OF THE BETTER CLASS IN 1849"> +</center> + +<h5>RESIDENCE OF JUDGE A.L. RHODES, A TYPICAL CALIFORNIA HOUSE OF THE BETTER CLASS IN 1849</h5> + +<hr> + +<p>We had seen princely dons of many leagues ride by in state; dashing +<i>caballeros</i> resplendent in costumes of satin and velvet, on their way +to sing beneath the windows of dark-eyed <i>señoritas;</i> and had stood +close enough to the wearers of embroidered and lace-bedecked small +clothes, to count the scallops which closed the seams of their outer +garments, and to hear the faint tinkle of the tiny silver bells which +dangled from them. We had feasted our eyes on magnificently robed +<i>señoras</i> and <i>señoritas</i>; caught the scent of the roses twined in +their hair, and the flash of jewels on their persons.</p> + +<p>Such frequent object-lessons made the names and surroundings of those +grandees easy to remember. Some lived leagues distant, some were near +neighbors in that typical Mexican Pueblo of Sonoma, whose adobe walls +and red-tiled roofs nestled close to the foot of the dimpled hills +overlooking the valley from the north, and whose historic and romantic +associations were connected with distinguished families who still +called it home.</p> + +<p>Foremost among the men was +<a name="IAnchorV3"></a><a href="#IndexV3">General Mariano Guadalupe Vallejo</a>, by whom +Sonoma was founded in 1834, upon ground which had twice been +consecrated to Mission use. First by <a name="IAnchorA2"></a><a href="#IndexA2">Padre Altemera</a>, who had, in 1823, +established there the church and mission building of San Francisco +Solano. And four years later, after hostile Indians had destroyed the +sacred structures, <a name="IAnchorF6"></a><a href="#IndexF6">Padre Fortune</a>, under protection of Presidio Golden +Gate, blessed the ashes and rebuilt the church and the parochial +houses named last on the list of the historic Missions of California.</p> + +<p>The Vallejo home covered the largest plot of ground on the north side +of the plaza, and its great house had a hospitable air, despite its +lofty watchtower, begrimed by sentry holes, overlooking every part of +the valley.</p> + +<p>During the period that its owner was <i>commandante</i> of the northern +frontier, the Vallejo home was headquarters for high officials of the +province. But after +<a name="IAnchorS21"></a><a href="#IndexS21">Commodore Sloat</a> raised the Stars and Stripes at +Monterey, General Vallejo espoused the cause of the United States, put +aside much of his Spanish exclusiveness, and opened his doors to +Americans as graciously as to friends of his own nationality.</p> + +<p>A historic souvenir greatly prized by Americans in town and valley was +the flag pole, which in Sonoma's infancy had been hewn from the distant +mountain forest, and brought down on pack animals by mission Indians +under General Vallejo's direction. It originally stood in the centre of +the plaza, where it was planted with sacred ceremonials, and where amid +ringing cheers of "<i>Viva Mexico!</i>" it first flung to the breeze that +country's symbolical banner of green, white, and red. Through ten +fitful years it loyally waved those colors; then followed its brief +humiliation by the Bear Flag episode, and early redemption by order of +Commodore Sloat, who sent thither an American flag-bearer to invest it +with the Stars and Stripes. Thereafter, a patriotic impulse suggested +its removal to the parade ground of the United States Army post, and +as Spanish residents looked upon it as a thornful reminder of lost +power they felt no regret when Uncle Sam's boys transplanted it to new +environments and made it an American feature by adoption.</p> + +<p>But the Mexican landmark which appealed to me most pathetically was the +quaint rustic belfry which stood solitary in the open space in front of +the Mission buildings. Its strong columns were the trunks of trees that +looked as though they might have grown there for the purpose of +shouldering the heavy cross-beams from which the chimes hung. Its +smooth timbers had been laboriously hewn by hand, as must be the case +in a land where there are no saw mills. The parts that were not bound +together with thongs of rawhide, were held in place by wooden pegs. The +strips of rawhide attached to the clappers dropped low enough for me to +reach, and often tempted me to make the bells speak.</p> + +<p>Mission padres no longer dwelt in the buildings, but shepherds from +distant folds came monthly to administer to the needs of this +consecrated flock. Then the many bells would call the faithful to mass, +and to vespers, or chime for the wedding of favored sons and daughters. +Part of them would jingle merrily for notable christenings; but one +only would toll when death whitened the lips of some distinguished +victim; and again, while the blessed body was being borne to its last +resting-place.</p> + +<p>During one of my first trips to town, Jakie and I were standing by +grandpa's shop on the east side of the plaza, when suddenly those bells +rang out clear and sweet, and we saw the believing glide out of their +homes in every direction and wend their way to the church. The +high-born ladies had put aside their jewels, their gorgeous silks and +satins, and donned the simpler garb prescribed for the season of fasts +and prayer. Those to the manor born wore the picturesque <i>rebosa</i> of +fine lace or gauzy silk, draped over the head and about the shoulders; +while those of humbler station made the shawl serve in place of the +<i>rebosa</i>. The Indian servants, who with mats and kneeling cushions +followed their mistresses, wore white chemises, bright-colored +petticoats, and handkerchiefs folded three-cornerwise over the head and +knotted under the chin. The costumes of the young girls were modelled +after those of their mothers; and the little ladies appeared as demure +and walked as stately as their elders. The gentlemen also were garbed +in plainer costumes than their wont, and, for custom's sake, rode on +horseback even the short distances which little children walked.</p> + +<p>The town seemed deserted, and the church filled, as we started +homeward, I skipping ahead until we reached a shop window where I +waited for Jakie and asked him if he knew what those pretty little +things were that I saw on a shelf, in big short-necked glass jars. Some +were round and had little "stickers" all over them, and others looked +like birds' eggs, pink, yellow, white, and violet.</p> + +<p>He told me the round ones were sugar plums, and the egg-shaped had each +an almond nut under its bright crust; that they were candies that had +come from France in the ships that had brought the Spanish people their +fine clothes; and that they were only for the rich, and would make poor +little girls' teeth ache, if they should eat them.</p> + +<p>Yet, after I confided to him how mother had given me a lump of loaf +sugar each night as long as it lasted, and how sorry we both felt when +there was no more, he led me into the shop and let me choose two of +each kind and color from the jars. We walked faster as I carried them +home. Jakie and grandma would not take any, but she gave Georgia and me +each a sugar plum and an egg, and saved the rest for other days when we +should be good children.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXII"></a><h2>CHAPTER XXII</h2> + +<h4>GOLD DISCOVERED—"CALIFORNIA IS OURS"—NURSING THE SICK THE U.S. +MILITARY POST—BURIAL OF AN OFFICER.</h4> + +<p>In the year 1848, while the settlers and their families were +contentedly at work developing the resources of the country, the +astounding cry, "<a name="IAnchorG3"></a><a href="#IndexG3">Gold discovered</a>!" came through the valley like a +blight, stopping every industry in its wake.</p> + +<p>Excited men, women, and children rushed to town in quest of +information. It was furnished by Alcalde Boggs and General Vallejo, who +had been called away privately two weeks earlier, and had just returned +in a state of great enthusiasm, declaring that gold, "in dust, grains, +and chunks had been discovered at Coloma, not more than a day's journey +from Sutter's Fort."</p> + +<p>"How soon can we get there?" became the all-absorbing problem of eager +listeners. The only hotel-keeper in the town sold his kettles and pans, +closed his house, and departed. Shopkeepers packed most of their +supplies for immediate shipment, and raised the price of those left for +home trade. Men and half-grown boys hardly took time to collect a +meagre outfit before they were off with shovel and pan and "something +big to hold the gold." A few families packed their effects into +emigrant wagons and deserted house and lands for the luring gold +fields.</p> + +<p>Crowds from San Francisco came hurrying through, some stopping barely +long enough to repeat the maddening tales that had started them off to +the diggings with pick and shovel. Each new rumor increased the exodus +of <a name="IAnchorG5"></a><a href="#IndexG5">gold-seekers</a>; and by the end of the first week in August, when the +messenger arrived with the long-hoped-for report of the ratification of +the treaty of peace, and General Mason's proclamation officially +announcing it, there were not enough men left in the valley, outside of +the barracks, to give a decent round of cheers for the blessing of +peace.</p> + +<p>Grandpa brought the news home, "California is ours. There will be no +more war, no more trouble, and no more need of soldiers."</p> + +<p>Yet the women felt that their battles and trials had just begun, since +they had suddenly become the sole home-keepers, with limited ways and +means to provide for the children and care for the stock and farms. +Discouragement would have rendered the burdens of many too heavy to +carry, had not "work together," and "help your neighbor," become the +watchwords of the day. No one was allowed to suffer through lack of +practical sympathy. From house to house, by turns, went the strong to +help the weak to bridge their troubles. They went, not with cheering +words only, but with something in store for the empty cupboards and +with ready hands to help to milk, wash, cook, or sew.</p> + +<p>Grandma was in such demand that she had little time to rest; for there +was not a doctor nor a "medicine shop" in the valley, and her parcels +of herbs and knowledge of their uses had to serve for both. Nights, she +set her shoes handy, so that she could dress quickly when summoned to +the sick; and dawn of day often marked her home-coming.</p> + +<p>Georgia and I were led into her work early, for we were sent with +broths and appetizers to the sick on clearings within walking +distances; and she would bid us stay a while at different houses where +we could be helpful, but to be sure and bring careful reports from each +home we entered. Under such training, we learned much about diseases +and the care of the suffering. Anon, we would find in the plain wooden +cradle, a dainty bundle of sweetness, all done up in white, which its +happy owner declared grandma had brought her, and we felt quite repaid +for our tiresome walk if permitted to hold it a wee while and learn its +name.</p> + +<a name="image-34"><!-- Image 34 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/034.jpg" height="300" width="644" +alt="MISSION SAN FRANCISCO SOLANO, LAST OF THE HISTORIC MISSIONS OF CALIFORNIA"> +</center> + +<h5>MISSION SAN FRANCISCO SOLANO, LAST OF THE HISTORIC MISSIONS OF CALIFORNIA</h5> + +<hr> + +<a name="image-35"><!-- Image 35 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/035.jpg" height="300" width="509" +alt="RUINS OF THE MISSION AT SONOMA"> +</center> + +<h5>RUINS OF THE MISSION AT SONOMA</h5> + +<hr> + +<p>We were sent together on these missions, in order that we might help +each other to remember all that was told us; yet grandma had us take +turns, and the one whom she commissioned to make the inquiries was +expected to bring the fuller answers. Sometimes, we played on the way +and made mistakes. Then she would mete out to us that hardest of +punishments, namely, that we were not to speak with each other until +she should forgive our offence. Forgiveness usually came before time +to drive up the cows, for she knew that we were nimbler-footed when she +started us off in happy mood.</p> + +<p>Each cow wore a bell of different tone and knew her own name; yet it +was not an easy task, even in pleasant weather, to collect the various +strings and get them home on time. They mixed, and fed with neighbors' +cattle on the range, and hid themselves behind clumps of trees and +other convenient obstructions. Often grandma would get her string in by +the main trail and have them milked before we could bring up the +laggards that provokingly dawdled along, nibbling stray bunches of +grass. When late on the road, we saw coyotes sneaking out for their +evening meal and heard the far-away cry of the panther. But we were not +much afraid when it was light enough, so that imagination could not +picture them creeping stealthily behind us.</p> + +<p>Our gallant Company C, officered by Captain Bartlett and Lieutenants +Stoneman and Stone, was ordered to another post early in August; and +its departure caused such universal regret that no one supposed Company +H, under <a name="IAnchorF21"></a><a href="#IndexF21">Captain Frisbie</a>, could fill its place. Nevertheless, that +handsome young officer soon found his way to the good-will of the +people, and when <a name="IAnchorH11"></a><a href="#IndexH11">Captain Joe Hooker</a> brought him out to visit grandma's +dairy, she, too, was greatly pleased by his soldierly bearing. After he +mentioned that he had heard of her interest in the company which had +been called away, and that he believed she would find Company H +equally deserving of her consideration, she readily extended to the new +men the homelike privileges which the others had enjoyed. Thus more +friends came among us.</p> + +<p>Notable among mine was the old darkey cook at headquarters, from whom +Georgia and I tried to hide, the first time she waddled out to our +house. She searched us out, saying:</p> + +<p>"Now, honeys, don't yo be so scared of dis ole Aunt Lucy, 'cos she's +done heared Captain Hooker tell lots 'bout yos, and has come to see +yos."</p> + +<p>Her face was one great smile, and her voice was so coaxing that she had +little difficulty in gaining our favor, the more so, as upon leaving, +she called back, "I's surely g'wine ter make dat little pie and cake +I's promised yos, so yos mustn't forgit to come git it."</p> + +<p>On one occasion, when I was sent to the post on an errand, she had no +pie or cake; but she brought out a primer and said thoughtfully, "I's +g'wine ter give yo dis A-B-C book, 'cos I want yo should grow up like +quality folks."</p> + +<p>Its worn leaves showed that its owner had studied its first few pages +only; and when I replied, "Grandma says that I must not take everything +that is offered me," she chuckled and continued:</p> + +<p>"Lawd, honey, yo needn't have no 'punctions 'bout takin' dis yer book, +'cos I couldn't learn to read nohow when I was a gal, and I's too ole +to now. Now, I wants yo to be nice; and yo can't, lessen yo can read +and talk like de Captain done tole me yo mudder done."</p> + +<p>I was delighted with the book, and told her so, and hugged it all the +way home; for it had a beautiful picture near the back, showing a +little girl with a sprinkling pot, watering her garden of stocks, +sweet-williams, and hollyhocks. Her hair was in four long curls, and +she had trimming on her dress, apron, and long pantalets. I was also +impressed by the new words which I had heard Aunt Lucy use, +"'punctions," and "quality folks." I repeated them over and over to +myself, so that I should be able to tell them to Georgia.</p> + +<p>Our last visit to Aunt Lucy must have been prearranged, for as she +admitted us, she said, "I's mighty glad yos done come so soon, 'cos I +been 'specting yos, and mus' take yos right in to de General."</p> + +<p>I had never seen a general, and was shy about meeting one, until after +she assured me that only cowards and bad men feared him.</p> + +<p>We walked down the corridor and entered a large room, where an elderly +gentleman in uniform sat writing at a table. Aunt Lucy stopped beside +him, and still holding each by the hand, bowed low, saying, +"<a name="IAnchorS23"></a><a href="#IndexS23">General Smith</a>, +I's brung der two little Donner gals in to see yo, sah"; then +she slipped out.</p> + +<p>He was as courteous to us as though we were grown ladies, shook hands, +asked how we felt, begged us to be seated, and then stepped to a door +and called, "Susan! Susan!" I liked the name. A sweet voice answered, +"Coming!"</p> + +<p>Presently, a pretty dark-eyed Southern lady appeared, who called us +"honeys," and "dear little girls." She sat between us, joining with her +husband in earnest inquiries about our stay in the mountains and our +home with grandma. Georgia did most of the talking. I was satisfied +just to look at them and hear them speak. At the close of our visit, +with a knowing look, she took us to see what Aunt Lucy had baked.</p> + +<p>The General and she had recently come to pay a last visit to a sick +officer, who had been sent from San Francisco with the hope that our +milder climate would prolong his life. They themselves stayed only a +short time, and their friend never left our valley. The day he died, +the flag swung lower on the staff. Soldiers dug his grave on the +hillside north of town, and word came from army headquarters that he +would be buried on the morrow at midday, with military honors. Georgia +and I wanted to know what military honors were, and as it came time for +the funeral, we gathered with others on the plaza, where the procession +formed. We were deeply impressed.</p> + +<p>The emigrants uncovered and bowed their heads reverently, but the +soldiers in line, with guns reversed, stood erect and motionless as +figures in stone, while the bier of the dead was being carried through +open ranks to the waiting caisson. The coffin was covered with a flag, +and upon it lay his chapeau, gauntlets, sash, and sword. His boots, +with their toes reversed, hung over the saddle of a riderless horse, +led behind the caisson. The solemn tones of fife and muffled drum led +the way through the town, past the old Mission bells and up the +hillside. Only soldiers stood close around the grave and heard what was +read by the officer who stood at its head, with an open book in one +hand and a drawn sword in the other. Three times the file of soldiers +fired a volley over the grave, then the muffled drum sounded its +farewell taps, and the officers, with their men and the funeral +caisson, returned to their quarters in silent order.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a><h2>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> + +<h4>REAPING AND THRESHING—A PIONEER FUNERAL—THE HOMELESS AND WAYFARING +APPEAL TO MRS. BRUNNER—RETURN OF THE MINERS—SOCIAL GATHERINGS—OUR +DAILY ROUTINE—STOLEN PLEASURES—A LITTLE DAIRYMAID—MY DOGSKIN SHOES.</h4> + +<p>Reaping and threshing were interesting events to us that summer. +Mission Indians, scantily clothed, came and cut the grain with long +knives and sickles, bound it in small sheaves, and stacked it in the +back yard opposite grandma's lookout window, then encircled it with a +rustic fence, leaving a wide bare space between the stack and the +fence, which they swept clean with green branches from live oak trees.</p> + +<p>After many days, Mexican drivers brought a band of wild mares to help +with the work. A thick layer of unthreshed grain was pitched on to the +bare space surrounding the stack and the mares were driven around and +around upon it. From time to time, fresh material was supplied to meet +the needs of the threshers. And, at given signals from the men on the +stack, the mares were turned out for a short rest, also in order to +allow the Indians a chance to throw out the waste straw and to heap the +loose grain on the winnowing ground. So they did again and again, +until the last sheaf had been trodden under foot.</p> + +<p>When the threshing was finished, the Indians rested; then prepared +their fires, and feasted on the head, feet, and offal of a bullock +which grandpa had slaughtered.</p> + +<p>Like buzzards came the squaws and papooses to take what was left of the +food, and to claim a share from the pile of worn-out clothes which +grandma brought out for distribution. Amid shouts of pleasure, +gesticulations, and all manner of begging, the distribution began, and +when it ended, our front yard looked as though it were stocked with +prize scarecrows.</p> + +<p>One big fellow was resplendent in a battered silk hat and a tattered +army coat; another was well dressed in a pair of cast-off boots and one +of grandma's ragged aprons. Georgia and I tried to help to sort the +things as they should be worn, but our efforts were in vain. Wrong +hands would reach around and get the articles, and both sexes +interchanged suits with apparent satisfaction. Grandma got quite out of +patience with one great fellow who was trying to put on a petticoat +that his squaw needed, and rushed up to him, jerked it off, gave him a +vigorous push, and had the garment on his squaw, before he could do +more than grunt. In the end they went away caring more for the clothes +that had been given them than for the money they had earned.</p> + +<p>Before the summer waned, death claimed one of our own brave women, and +immigrants from far and near gathered to do her honor. I do not +recollect her name, but know that she was tall and fair, and that +grandma, who had watched with her through her last hours, told Georgia +and me that when we saw the procession leave the house, we might creep +through our back fence and reach the grave before those who should walk +around by the road. We were glad to go, for we had watched the growth +of the fresh ridge under a large oak tree, not far from our house, and +had heard a friend say that it would be "a heavenly resting place for +the freed sufferer."</p> + +<p>Her family and nearest neighbors left the house afoot, behind the wagon +which carried the plain redwood coffin. At the cross-road several fell +in line, and at the grave was quite a gathering. A number came in their +ox wagons, others on horseback; among them, a father afoot, leading a +horse upon whose back sat his wife with an infant in arms and a child +behind clinging to her waist; and several old nags, freighted with +children, were led by one parent, while the other walked alongside to +see that none should lose their balance and fall off.</p> + +<p>No minister of the Gospel was within call, so, after the coffin was +placed upon the bars above the open grave, and the lid removed, a +friend who had crossed the plains with the dead, offered a prayer, and +all the listeners said, "Amen."</p> + +<p>I might not have remembered all these things, if Georgia and I had not +watched over that grave, when all others seemed to have forgotten it. +As we brought brush to cover it, in order to keep the cattle from +dusting themselves in the loose earth, we talked matters over, and felt +as though that mother's grave had been bequeathed to us. Grandma had +instructed us that the graveyard is "God's acre," and that it is a sin +to live near and not tend it. Still, no matter how often we chased the +cattle away, they would return. We could not make them understand that +their old resting-place had become sacred ground.</p> + +<p>About the middle of October, 1848, the last of the volunteers were +mustered out of service, and shortly thereafter the excess of army +stores were condemned and sold. Ex-soldiers had preference over +settlers, and could buy the goods at Government rates, plus a small +cost of transportation to the Pacific coast. Grandma profited by the +good-will of those whom she had befriended. They stocked her store-room +with salt pork, flour, rice, coffee, sugar, ship-bread, dried fruit, +and camp condiments at a nominal figure above what they themselves paid +for them.</p> + +<p>This was fortunate, for the hotel was still closed, and the homeless +and wayfaring appealing to grandma, easily persuaded her to make room +for them at her table. The greater the number, the harder she worked, +and the more she expected of us. Although we rose at dawn, and rolled +our sleeves high as she rolled hers, and like her, turned up our dress +skirts and pinned them behind under our long belt aprons, we could not +keep pace with her work.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, we were pleasing reminders of little girls whom she had +known in her native village, and she was proud of us, and had two +little white dresses fashioned to be worn on very special occasions. +After they were finished, we also were proud, and made many trips into +the room to see how beautiful they looked hanging against the wall +under the curtain.</p> + +<p>Marvellous accounts of the extent and richness of the <a name="IAnchorG4"></a><a href="#IndexG4">gold-diggings</a> +were now brought to town by traffickers in provisions for mining-camps. +This good news inspired our home-keepers with renewed courage. They +worked faster while planning the comfort they should enjoy after the +return of the absent.</p> + +<p>The first to come were the unfortunate, who sought to shake off +rheumatism, lung trouble, or the stubborn low-grade fever brought on by +working in the water, sleeping on damp ground, eating poorly cooked +food, or wearing clothing insufficient to guard against the morning and +evening chill. Few had much to show for their toil and privation; yet, +not disheartened, even in delirium, they clamored to hasten back for +the precious treasure which seemed ever beckoning them onward.</p> + +<p>When wind and weather drove them home, the robust came with bags of +gold rolled in their snug packs. They called each other "lucky dogs," +yet looked like grimy beggars, with faces so bewhiskered, and clothing +so ragged, or so wonderfully patched, that little children cried when +they drew near, and wives threw up their hands, exclaiming, "For the +land's sake! can it be?" Yet each home-comer found glad welcome, and +messengers were quick to spread the news, and friends gathered to +rejoice with the returned.</p> + +<p>Now each home-cooked dish was a feast for the camp-fed to contrast with +their fare at Coloma, Wood's Camp,<a name="FNanchor16"></a><a href="#Footnote_16"><sup>[16]</sup></a> and sundry other places, where +flour, rice, ship-bread, and coffee were three dollars a pound; salt +pork and white beans, two dollars a pound; jerked beef, eight dollars a +pound; saleratus, sixteen dollars an ounce; and salt, sugar, and +raisins were put on the scales to balance their weight in gold dust; +where liquor was fifty cents a tablespoonful, and candles five dollars +each. It was not the prices at which they complained, but at the dearth +of these staples, which had forced them home to wait until spring +should again open the road to supply-trains.</p> + +<p>The homeless, who in the evenings found comfort and cheer around +grandma's table, would take out their treasure bags and boxes and pour +their dust and grains of gold in separate piles, to show the quality +and quantity, then pass the nuggets around that all might see what +strange figures nature had moulded in secret up among the rocks and +ravines of the Sierras.</p> + +<p>One Roman Catholic claimed as his choicest prize a perfectly shaped +cross of free gold, which he had cradled from the sands in the bed of a +creek. Another had an image of the Virgin and Child. A slight stretch +of the imagination turned many of the beautifully fretted pieces into +miniature birds and other admirable designs for sweetheart brooches. +The exhibition over, each would scrape his hoard back into its +receptacle, blow the remaining yellow particles on to the floor so that +the table should not show stain, and then settle himself to take his +part in relating amusing and thrilling incidents of life in the mining +camps. Not a window was closed, nor a door locked, nor a wink of sleep +lost in those days, guarding bags of gold. "Hands off" was the miners' +law, and all knew that death awaited him who should venture to break +it.</p> + +<p>Heavy purses made willing spenders, and generous impulses were +untrammelled. Nothing could be more gratifying or touching than the +respect shown by those homeless men to the pioneer women and children. +They would walk long distances and suffer delays and inconveniences for +the privilege of passing a few hours under home influences, and were +ever ready to contribute toward pleasures in which all might +participate.</p> + +<p>There were so few young girls in the community, and their presence was +so greatly desired, that in the early winter, Georgia and I attended as +welcome guests some of the social gatherings which began at early +candle-light, and we wore the little white dresses that were so +precious in our eyes.</p> + + +<a name="image-36"><!-- Image 36 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/036.jpg" height="300" width="602" +alt="GOLD ROCKER, WASHING PAN AND GOLD BORER"> +</center> + +<h5>GOLD ROCKER, WASHING PAN AND GOLD BORER</h5> + +<hr> + + +<a name="image-37"><!-- Image 37 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/037.jpg" height="300" width="476" +alt="SCENE DURING THE RUSH TO THE GOLD MINES FROM SAN FRANCISCO IN 1848"> +</center> + +<h5>SCENE DURING THE RUSH TO THE GOLD MINES FROM SAN FRANCISCO IN 1848</h5> + +<hr> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>The redeeming work of the day was sorting the dried fruit for sauce or +pies. We could take little nibbles as we handled it, and knew that we +should get an extra taste when it was ready for use. And after she had +put the upper crust on the pies, she would generally permit us to make +the fancy print around the edges with a fork, and then prick a figure +in the centre to let the steam escape while baking.</p> + +<p>Sometimes she received a dollar apiece for these pies; and she had so +many customers for them and for such loaves of bread as she could +spare, that she often declared the farm was as good as a gold mine.</p> + +<p>We were supposed not to play with dolls, consequently we durst not ask +any one to step around and see how our little house in the back yard +was weathering the storms, nor how the beloved nine in it were getting +along. Though only bottles of different sizes, to us they were dear +children, named after great personages whom the soldiers had taught us +to honor.</p> + +<p>The most distinguished had cork stoppers for heads, with faces marked +on the sides, the rest, only wads of paper or cloth fastened on the +ends of sticks that reached down into the bodies. A strip of cloth tied +around each neck, below the bulge, served as make-believe arms, +suitable for all ordinary purposes, and, with a little assistance, +capable of saluting an officer or waving to a comrade.</p> + +<p>We worried because they were clothed in fragments of cloth and paper +too thin for the season; and the very first chance we got, we slipped +out and found our darlings in a pitiable plight. Generals Washington +and Jackson, and little Van Buren were mired at the foot of a land +slide from the overhanging bank. Taylor, Webster, Clay, and Benton had +been knocked down and buried almost out of sight. Martha Washington's +white shawl and the chicken plumes in her hat were ruined; and Dandy +Jim from North Carolina lay at her feet with a broken neck!</p> + +<p>Such a shock! Not until we realized that everything could be restored +was our grief assuaged—that is, everything but Dandy Jim. He was a +serious loss, for he was our only black bottle and had always been kept +to wait on Martha Washington.</p> + +<p>We worked fast, and had accomplished so much before being called into +the house that we might have put everything in order next day, had +Georgia not waked up toward morning with a severe cold, and had grandma +not found out how she caught it. The outcome was that our treasures +were taken to the store-room to become medicine and vinegar bottles, +and we mourned like birds robbed of their young.</p> + +<p>New duties were opened to me as soon as I could wear my shoes, and by +the time Georgia was out again, I was a busy little dairymaid, and +quite at home in the corrals. I had been decorated with the regulation +salt bag, which hung close to my left side, like a fisherman's basket. +I owned a quart cup and could milk with either hand, also knew how to +administer the pinch of salt which each cow expected. After a little +practice I became able to do all the "stripping." In some cases it +amounted to not more than half a pint from each animal. However, much +or little, the strippings were of importance, and were kept separate, +because grandma considered them "good as cream in the cheese kettle."</p> + +<p>When I could sit on the one-legged stool, which Jakie had made me, hold +a pail between my knees and milk one or more cows, without help, they +both praised my cleverness—a cleverness which fixed more outside +responsibilities upon me, and kept me from Georgia a longer while each +day. My work was hard, still I remained noticeably taller and stronger +than she, who was assigned to lighter household duties. I felt that I +had no reason to complain of my tasks, because everybody about me was +busy, and the work had to be done.</p> + +<p>If I was more helpful than my little sister, I was also a source of +greater trouble, for I wore out my clothes faster, and they were +difficult to replace, especially shoes.</p> + +<p>There was but one shoemaker in the town, and he was kept so busy that +he took a generous measure of children's feet and then allowed a size +or more, to guard against the shoes being too small by the time he +should get them finished.</p> + +<p>When my little stogies began to leak, he shook his head thoughtfully, +and declared that he had so many orders for men's boots that he could +not possibly work for women or children until those orders were filled. +Consequently, grandma kept her eye on my shoes, and as they got worse +and worse, she became sorely perplexed. She would not let me go +barefooted, because she was afraid of "snags" and ensuing lockjaw; she +could not loan me her own, because she was saving them for special +occasions, and wearing instead the heavy sabots she had brought from +her native land. She tried the effect of continually reminding me to +pick my way and save my shoes, which made life miserable for us both. +Finally she upbraided me harshly for a playful run across the yard with +Courage, and I lost my temper, and grumbled.</p> + +<p>"I would rather go barefooted and get snags in my feet than have so +much bother about old shoes that are worn out and no good anyway!"</p> + +<p>I was still crying when Hendrik, a roly-poly Hollander, came along and +asked the cause of my distress. Grandma told him that I was out of +humor, because she was trying to keep shoes on my feet, while I was +determined to run them off. He laughed, bade me cheer up, sang the +rollicking sailor song with which he used to drive away storms at sea, +then showed me a hole in the heel of the dogskin boots he wore, and +told me that, out of their tops, he would make me a beautiful pair of +shoes.</p> + +<p>No clouds darkened my sky the morning that Hendrik came, wearing a pair +of new cowhide boots then squeaked as though singing crickets were +between the heavy soles; for he had his workbox and the dogskins under +his arm, and we took seats under the oak tree, where he laid out his +tools and went to work without more ado.</p> + +<p>He had brought a piece of tanned cowhide for the soles of my shoes, an +awl, a sailor's thimble, needles, coarse thread, a ball of wax, and a +sharp knife. The hair on the inside of the boot legs was thick and +smooth, and the colors showed that one of the skins had been taken from +the body of a black and white dog, and the other from that of a tawny +brindle. As Hendrik modelled and sewed, he told me a wondrous tale of +the great North Polar Sea, where he had gone in a whaling vessel, and +had stayed all winter among mountains of ice and snow. There his boots +had worn out. So he had bought these skins from queer little people +there, who live in snow huts, and instead of horses or oxen, use dogs +to draw their sleds.</p> + +<p>I liked the black and white skin better than the brindle, so he cut +that for the right foot, and told me always to make it start first. And +when I put the shoes on they felt so soft and warm that I knew I could +never forget Hendrik's generosity and kindness.</p> + +<p>The longer I wore them the more I became attached to them, and the +better I understood the story he had told me; for in my musings they +were not shoes, but "Spot" and "Brindle," live Eskimo dogs, that had +drawn families of queer little people in sleds over the frozen sea, and +had always been hungry and ready to fight over their scanty meals. At +times I imagined that they wanted to race and scamper about as happy +dogs do, and I would run myself out of breath to keep them going, and +always stop with Spot in the lead.</p> + +<p>When I needed shoestrings, I was sent to the shoemaker, who only +glanced up and replied, "Come to-morrow, and I'll have a piece of +leather big enough."</p> + +<p>The next day, he made the same answer, "Come to-morrow," and kept +pegging away as fast as he could on a boot sole. The third time I +appeared before him, he looked up with the ejaculation, "Well, I'll be +damned, if she ain't here again!"</p> + +<p>I was well aware that he should not have used that evil word, yet was +not alarmed, for I had heard grandpa and others use worse, and mean no +harm, nor yet intend to be cross. So I stood quietly, and in a trice he +was up, had rushed across the shop, brought back two round pieces of +leather not larger than cookies, and before I knew what he was about, +had turned them into good straight shoestrings. He waxed them, and +handed them to me with the remark, "Tell your grandma that since you +had to wait so long, I charge her only twenty-five cents for them."</p> + +<a name="Footnote_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor16">[16]</a><div class=note> Now Jamestown.</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a><h2>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> + +<h4>MEXICAN METHODS OF CULTIVATION—FIRST STEAMSHIP THROUGH THE GOLDEN +GATE—"THE ARGONAUTS" OR "BOYS OF '49"—A LETTER FROM THE STATES—JOHN +BAPTISTE—JAKIE LEAVES US—THE FIRST AMERICAN SCHOOL IN SONOMA.</h4> + +<p>By the first of March, 1849, carpenters had the frame of grandma's fine +new two-story house enclosed, and the floors partly laid. Neighbors +were hurrying to get their fields ploughed and planted, those without +farming implements following the Mexican's crude method of ploughing +the ground with wooden prongs and harrowing in the seed by dragging +heavy brush over it.</p> + +<p>They gladly turned to any tool that would complete the work by the time +the roads to the mountains should be passable, and the diggings clear +of snow. Their expectations might have been realized sooner, if a bluff +old launch captain, with an eye to business for himself and San +Francisco, had not appeared on the scene, shouting, "Ahoy" to +everybody.</p> + +<p>"I say, a steamship anchored in the Bay of San Francisco two days ago. +She's the <i>California</i>. Steamed out of New York Harbor with +merchandise. Stopped at Panama; there took aboard three hundred and +fifty waiting passengers that had cut across country—a mixture of men +from all parts of the United States, who have come to carry off the +gold diggings, root and branch! Others are coming in shiploads as fast +as they can. Now mark my words, and mark them well: provisions is going +to run mighty short, and if this valley wants any, it had better send +for them pretty damn quick!"</p> + +<p>By return boat, farmers, shopkeepers, and carpenters hastened to San +Francisco. All were eager for supplies from the first steamship that +had entered the Golden Gate—the first, it may be added, that most of +them, even those of a sea-going past, had ever seen.</p> + +<p>During the absence of husbands, we little girls were loaned separately +nights to timid wives who had no children to keep them company. Georgia +went earlier and stayed later than I, because grandma could not spare +me in the evenings until after the cows were turned out, and she needed +me in the mornings before sunrise. Those who borrowed us made our stays +so pleasant that we felt at home in many different houses.</p> + +<p>Once, however, I encountered danger on my early homeward trip.</p> + +<p>I had turned the bend in the road, could see the smoke curling out of +grandma's chimney, and knew that every nearer house was closed. In +order to avoid attracting the attention of a suspicious-looking cow on +the road, I was running stealthily along a rail fence, when, +unexpectedly, I came upon a family of sleeping swine, and before I was +aware of danger from that direction was set upon and felled to the +ground by a vicious beast. Impelled, I know not how, but quick as +thought, I rolled over and over and over, and when I opened my eyes I +was on the other side of the fence, and an angry, noisy, bristling +creature was glaring at me through the rails.</p> + +<p>Quivering like a leaf and for a time unable to rise, I lay upon the +green earth facing the morning sky. With strange sensations and +wonderment, I tried to think what might have happened, if I had not +rolled. What if that space between fence and ground had been too narrow +to let my body through; what if, on the other hand, it had been wide +enough for that enraged brute to follow?</p> + +<p>Too frightened to cry, and still trembling, I made my way to the end of +the field and climbed back over the fence near home. Grandma was +greatly startled by my blanched face, and the rumpled and soiled +condition of my clothes. After I related my frightful experience, she +also felt that had it not been for that fence, I should have been torn +to pieces. She explained, however, that I probably would not have been +attacked had I not startled the old mother so suddenly that she +believed her young in danger.</p> + +<p>When our menfolk returned from San Francisco, they were accompanied by +many excited treasure-seekers, anxious to secure pack animals to carry +their effects to the mines. They were made welcome, and in turn +furnished us news of the outer world, and distributed worn copies of +American and foreign newspapers, which our hungry-minded pioneers read +and re-read so long as the lines held together.</p> + +<p>Those light-hearted newcomers, who danced and gayly sang,</p> + +<blockquote>O Susannah, don't you cry for me!<br> +I'm bound to Californy with a tin pan on my knee,</blockquote> + +<p>were the first we saw of that vast throng of gold-seekers, who flocked to +our shores within a twelvemonth, and who have since become idealized in +song and story as the "Argonauts," "the Boys of '49."</p> + +<p>They were unlike either our pioneer or our soldier friends in style of +dress and manner. Nor had they come to build homes or develop the +country. They wanted gold to carry back to other lands. Some had +expected to find it near the Bay of San Francisco; some, to scoop it up +out of the river beds that crossed the valleys; and others, to shovel +it from ravines and mountain-sides. When told of the difficulties +before them, their impatience grew to be off, that they might prove to +Western plodders what could be done by Eastern pluck and muscle.</p> + +<p>Such packing as those men did! Mother's Bible, and wife and baby's +daguerreotype not infrequently started to the mines in the coffee pot, +or in the miner's boots, hanging across the mule's pack. The +sweetheart's lock of hair, affectionately concealed beneath the hat +lining of its faithful wearer, caught the scent of the old clay pipe +stuck in the hat-band.</p> + +<p>With the opening season all available Indians of both sexes were hired +as gold-diggers, and trudged along behind their employers, and our +town was again reduced to a settlement of white women and children. But +what a difference in the feeling of our people! We now heard regularly +from the Bay City, and entertained transients from nearly every part of +the globe; and these would loan us books and newspapers, and frequently +store unnecessary possessions with us until they should return from the +mines.</p> + +<p>San Francisco had a regular post office. One day its postmaster +forwarded a letter, addressed to ex-Governor <a name="IAnchorB9"></a><a href="#IndexB9">Boggs</a>, which the latter +brought out and read to grandma. She did not, as usual, put her head +out of the window and call us, but came from the house wiping her eyes, +and asked if we wanted to be put in a big ship and sent away from her +and grandma and Jakie.</p> + +<p>Greatly alarmed, we exclaimed, "No, no, grandma, no!"</p> + +<p>Taking us by the hand, she led us into the house, seated herself and +drew one of us to each side, then requested the Governor to read the +letter again. We two did not understand all it said, but enough to know +that it had been written by our own dear aunt, <a name="IAnchorP6"></a><a href="#IndexP6">Elizabeth Poor</a>, who +wanted Governor Boggs to find her sister's three little orphaned girls +and send them back to her by ship to Massachusetts. It contained the +necessary directions for carrying out her wish.</p> + +<a name="image-38"><!-- Image 38 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/038.jpg" height="300" width="413" +alt="POST OFFICE, CORNER OF CLAY AND PIKE STREETS, SAN FRANCISCO, 1849"> +</center> + +<h5>POST OFFICE, CORNER OF CLAY AND PIKE STREETS, SAN FRANCISCO, 1849</h5> + +<hr> + +<a name="image-39"><!-- Image 39 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/039.jpg" height="300" width="510" +alt="OLD CITY HOTEL, 1846, CORNER OF KEARNEY AND CLAY STREETS, THE FIRST HOTEL IN SAN FRANCISCO"> +</center> + +<h5>OLD CITY HOTEL, 1846, CORNER OF KEARNEY AND CLAY STREETS, THE FIRST HOTEL IN SAN FRANCISCO</h5> + +<hr> + +<p>Grandma assured the Governor that we did not want to leave her, nor +would she give us up. She said she and her husband and Jakie had +befriended us when we were poor and useless, and that we were now +beginning to be helpful. Moreover, that they had prospered greatly +since we had come into their home, and that their luck might change if +they should part from us. She further stated that she already had +riches in her own right, which we should inherit at her death.</p> + +<p>The Governor spoke of schools and divers matters pertaining to our +welfare, then promised to explain by letter to Aunt Elizabeth how +fortunately we were situated.</p> + +<p>This event created quite a flutter of excitement among friends. Grandpa +and Jakie felt just as grandma did about keeping us. Georgia and I were +assured that in not being allowed to go across the water, we had +escaped great suffering, and, perhaps, drowning by shipwreck. Still, we +did wish that it were possible for us to see Aunt Elizabeth, whom +mother had taught us to love, and who now wanted us to come to her.</p> + +<p>I told Georgia that I would learn to write as fast as I could, and send +her a letter, so she would know all about us.</p> + +<p>We now imagined that we were quite large girls, for grandma usually +said before going away, "Children, you know what there is to do and I +leave everything in your care." We did not realize that this was her +little scheme, in part, to keep us out of mischief; but we knew that +upon her return she would see, and call attention to what was left +undone.</p> + +<p>Once, when we were at home alone and talking about "endless work and +aching bones," as we had heard grown-up folks complain of theirs, we +were interrupted by a bareback rider who did not "tie up" under the +live oak, but came to the shade of the white oak in front of us at the +kitchen door. After a cheery "Howdy do" and a hand shake, he exclaimed,</p> + +<p>"I heard at Napa that you lived here, and my pony has made a hard run +to give me this sight of you."</p> + +<p>We were surprised and delighted, for the speaker was +<a name="IAnchorT20"></a><a href="#IndexT20">John Baptiste</a> who +had wintered with us in the Sierras. We asked him to dismount, take a +seat under the tree, and let us bring him a glass of milk. He declined +graciously, then with a pleased expression, drew a small brown-paper +parcel from his trousers pocket and handed it to us, leaned forward, +clasped his arms about his pony, rested his head on its neck, and +smilingly watched Georgia unwrap it, and two beautiful bunches of +raisins come to view,—one for each. He would not touch a single berry, +nor let us save any. He asked us to eat them then and there so that he +could witness our enjoyment of the luxury he had provided for this, our +first meeting in the settlement.</p> + +<p>Never had we seen raisins so large, translucent, and delicious. They +seemed far too choice for us to have, and John was so poorly dressed +and pinched in features that we hesitated about eating them. But he +would have his way, and in simple language told us that he wanted them +to soften the recollection of the hungry time when he came into camp +empty-handed and discouraged. Also to fulfil his assurance to our +mother that he would try to keep us in sight, and give us of the best +that he could procure. His last injunctions were, "Be good little +girls; always remember your mother and father; and don't forget John +Baptiste."</p> + +<p>He was gone when grandma got back; and she was very serious when told +what had occurred in her absence. She rarely spoke to us of our mother, +and feared it might lessen our affection for herself, if others kept +the memory of the dead fresh in our minds.</p> + +<p>There were many other happenings before the year closed, that caused me +to think a great deal. Grandpa spent less time at the shop; he bought +himself a fleet-footed horse which he named Antelope, and came home +oftener to talk to grandma about money they had loaned Major Prudon to +send to China for merchandise, also about a bar-room which he was +fitting up near the butcher-shop, for a partner. Next, he bought +faithful Charlie, a large bay horse, with friendly eyes, and long black +mane and tail; also a small blue farm wagon in which Georgia and I were +to drive about the fields, when sent to gather loose bark and dry +branches for baking fires.</p> + +<p>We were out for that purpose the day that we saw grandpa ride away to +the mines, but we missed seeing Jakie steal off, with his bunch of +cows. He felt too badly to say good-bye to us.</p> + +<p>I was almost heart-broken when I learned that he was not coming back. +He had been my comforter in most of my troubles, had taught me to ride +and drive the horse, shown me the wood duck's nest in the hollow of +our white oak tree, and the orioles' pretty home swinging from a twig +in the live oak, also where the big white-faced owls lived. He had +helped me to gather wild flowers, made me whistles from branches cut +from the pussy willows, and had yodeled for me as joyfully as for loved +ones in his Alpine home. Everything that he had said and done meant a +great deal more to me now, and kept him in mind, as I went about alone, +or with grandma, doing the things that had been his to do. She now +moulded her cheeses in smaller forms, and we had fewer cows to milk.</p> + +<p>When the season for collecting and drying herbs came, Georgia and I had +opportunity to be together considerably. It was after we had picked the +first drying of sage and were pricking our fingers on the saffron pods, +that grandma, in passing, with her apron full of Castilian rose petals, +stopped and announced that if we would promise to work well, and gather +the sage leaves and saffron tufts as often as necessary, she would let +us go to a "real school" which was about to open in town.</p> + +<p>Oh, dear! to go to school, to have books and slate and pencil! What +more could be wished? Yes, we would get up earlier, work faster before +time to go, and hurry home after lessons were over. And I would carry +the book Aunt Lucy had given me. It was all arranged, and grandma went +to town to buy slates, pencils, speller, and a stick of wine-colored +ribbon to tie up our hair.</p> + +<p>When the anticipated hour came, there were great preparations that we +might be neat and clean and ready on time. Our hair was parted in four +equal divisions; the front braids, tied with ribbon, formed a U at the +back of the neck; and we wore new calico dresses and sun-bonnets, and +carried lunch for two in a curious little basket, which grandma must +have brought with her from Switzerland. Joyfully we started forth to +the <a name="IAnchorS7"></a><a href="#IndexS7">first American school</a> +opened in Sonoma.</p> + +<p>Alas! it was not what our anticipations had pictured. The schoolroom +was a dreary adobe, containing two rows of benches so high that, when +seated, we could barely touch the earthen floor with our toes. The +schoolmaster told us that we must hold our slates on our laps, and our +open books in the right hand, and not look at the pictures, but study +all the time, and not speak, even to each other, without permission. +His face was so severe, his eyes so keen, and his voice so sharp that I +was afraid of him.</p> + +<p>He had a chair with a back to it, and a table to hold his books; yet he +spent most of his time walking about with a narrow strap of rawhide in +his hand, and was ever finding some one whose book drooped, or who was +whispering; and the stinging bite of that strap would call the erring +to order.</p> + +<p>The Misses Boggs, Lewis, Smith, and Bone were pretty young ladies, and +brought their own chairs and a table to sit around; and when they +whispered, the master never saw them; and when they missed in lessons, +he didn't keep them in, nor make them stand on the floor.</p> + +<p>I learned my lessons well enough, but grandma was terribly shocked +because I got strapped nearly every day. But then, I sat between +Georgia and the other little girls in our row, and had to deliver +messages from those on both sides of me, as well as to whisper a little +on my own account. Finally, grandma declared that if I got a whipping +next day, she would give me a second one after reaching home. So I +started in the morning with the intention of being the best girl in +school; but we had hardly settled in line for our first lesson, when +Georgia whispered behind her book, "Eliza, see! Mary Jane Johnson has +got my nice French card, with the double queens on it, and I can't get +it."</p> + +<p>Forgotten were my good resolutions. I leaned out of line, and whispered +louder than I meant, "Mary Jane Johnson, that is my sister's card, and +you must give it back to her."</p> + +<p>She saw the master watching, but I did not, until he called me to hold +out my hand. For once, I begged, "Please excuse me; I won't do it +again." But he wouldn't, and I felt greatly humiliated, because I knew +the large girls had heard me and were smiling.</p> + +<p>After recess, a new boy arrived, little Willie McCracken, whom we had +seen on the plains, and known at Sutter's Fort, and he knew us as soon +as he reached his seat and looked around. In a short time, I nudged +Georgia, and asked her if I hadn't better roll him the little knot of +dried apples that grandma had put in the basket for my lunch. She said, +yes, if I wanted to. So I wiggled the basket from under the seat with +my foot, and soon thereafter, my bit of hospitality was on its way to +the friend I was glad to see again.</p> + +<p>Instead of his getting it, however, the master stepped down and picked +it up, with the hand that didn't have the strap in it. So, instead of +being the best, I was the worst child in school, for not one had ever +before received two strappings in a forenoon.</p> + +<p>It must have been our bad day, for Georgia felt her very first bite +from the strap that afternoon, and on the way home volunteered not to +tell on me, if grandma did not ask. Yet grandma did, the first thing. +And when Georgia reluctantly said, "Yes," grandma looked at me and +shook her head despairingly; but when I announced that I had already +had two strappings, and Georgia one, she burst out laughing, and said +she thought I had had enough for one day.</p> + +<p>A few weeks later, the large boys drove the master out of school on +account of his cruelty to a little fellow who had played truant.</p> + +<p>In that dingy <a name="IAnchorS8"></a><a href="#IndexS8">schoolroom</a>, Georgia and I later attended the first +Protestant Sunday school and church service held in Sonoma.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXV"></a><h2>CHAPTER XXV</h2> + +<h4>FEVER PATIENTS FROM THE MINES—UNMARKED GRAVES—THE TALES AND TAUNTS +THAT WOUNDED MY YOUNG HEART.</h4> + +<p>A short experience in the mines cured grandpa's "mining fever," but +increased his rheumatism. The accounts he brought of sufferings he had +witnessed in the camps prepared us for the approaching autumn's work, +when many of the happy fellows who had started to the gold-fields in +vigorous health and with great expectations returned haggard, sick, and +out of luck.</p> + +<p>Then was noble work done by the pioneer women. No door was closed +against the needy. However small the house might be, its inmates had +some comfort to offer the stranger. Many came to grandma, saying they +had places to sleep but begging that she would give them food and +medicine until they should be able to proceed to San Francisco.</p> + +<p>Weary mortals dragged their aching limbs to the benches under her white +oak tree, dropped upon them, with blankets still across their +shoulders, declaring they could not go another rod. Often, she turned +her face aside and murmured, "God help the poor wanderers"; but to them +she would say encouragingly, "You be not very sick, you will soon be +rested. There be straw in the stack that we will bring for your bed, +and me and the children will let you not go hungry."</p> + +<p>Ere long, beds had to be made on the floor of the unfinished house. +More were needed, and they were spread under the great white oak.</p> + +<p>On a block beside each fever patient stood a tin cup, which Georgia and +I were charged to keep full of cold water, and it was pitiful to see +the eyes of the sick watch the cooling stream we poured. Our patients +eagerly grasped the cup with unsteady hands, so that part of its +contents did not reach the parched lips. Often, we heard the fervid +prayer, "God bless the women of this land, and bless the children too!"</p> + +<p>Soon we learned to detect signs of improvement, and were rejoiced when +the convalescents smiled and asked for more to eat. Grandma carried +most of the food to them and sent us later for the empty dishes.</p> + +<p>Of the many who came to us that season, there was but one who never +proceeded on his way. He was a young German, fair of face, but terribly +wasted by disease. His gentle, boyish manner at once made him a +favorite, and we not only gave him our best care, but when a physician +drifted into town, grandma sent for him and followed his directions. I +remember well the day that John seemed almost convalescent, relished +his breakfast, wanted to talk a while, and before we left him, had us +bring him a basin of warm water and his beflowered carpet bag, from +which he took a change of clothing and his shaving outfit.</p> + +<p>When we saw him later, his hair was smoothly combed; he looked neat and +felt encouraged, and was sure that he should soon be up and doing for +himself. At nightfall, grandma bade us wipe the dishes quickly as +possible, at which Georgia proposed a race to see whether she could +wash fast enough to keep us busy, and we got into a frolicsome mood, +which grandma put an end to with the sobering remark:</p> + +<p>"Oh, be not so worldly-minded. John ist very bad to-night. I be in a +hurry to go back to him, and you must hold the candle."</p> + +<p>We passed out into the clear cold starlight, with the burning candle +sheltered by a milk pan, and picked our way between the lumber to the +unfinished room where John lay. I was the last to enter, and saw +grandma hurriedly give the candle to Georgia, drop upon her knees +beside the bed, touch his forehead, lift his hand, and call him by +name. The damp of death was on his brow, the organs of speech had lost +their power. One long upward look, a slight quivering of the muscles of +the face, and we were alone with the dead. I was so awed that I could +scarcely move, but grandma wept over him, as she prepared his body for +burial.</p> + +<p>The next afternoon, we three and grandpa and a few friends followed him +to his final resting-place. After he was gone, grandma remembered that +she did not know his name in full, the land of his birth, nor the +address of his people. Expecting his recovery, she had not troubled him +with questions, and the few trinkets in his carpet bag yielded no +identifying clue. So he lies in a nameless grave, like countless other +youth of that period.</p> + +<p>We had patients of every type, those who were appreciative and +grateful, and those who rebelled against confinement, and swore at the +pain which kept sleep from their eyes, and hurled their things about +regardless of consequences. The most trying were the chronic grumblers, +who did not know what they wanted, nor what they ought to have, and +adopted the moody refrain:</p> + +<blockquote> But the happy times are over,<br> + I've only grief and pain,<br> + For I shall never, never see<br> + Susannah dear again.</blockquote> + +<p>The entrance of Georgia and myself would occasionally turn their +thoughts into homeward channels, and make them reminiscent of their +little children and loved ones "back in the States." Then, again, our +coming would set them to talking about our early disaster and such +horrible recounts of happenings in the snow-bound camps that we would +rush away, and poor Georgia would have distressing crying spells over +what we had heard.</p> + +<p>At first no tears dimmed my eyes, for I felt, with keen indignation, +that those wounding tales were false; but there came hours of suffering +for me later, when an unsympathetic soldier, nicknamed "Picayune +Butler," engaged me in conversation and set me to thinking.</p> + +<p>He was a great big man with eyes piercing as a hawk's, and lips so thin +that they looked like red lines on his face, parting and snapping +together as he repeated the horrible things he had read in <a name="IAnchorC3"></a><a href="#IndexC3"><i>The +California Star.</i></a> He insisted that the <a name="IAnchorD66"></a><a href="#IndexD66">Donner Party</a> was responsible for +its own misfortune; that parents killed their babies and ate their +bodies to keep themselves alive; cut off the heads of companions and +called them good soup bones; and were as thievish as sneaking Indians, +even stealing the strings from the snowshoes of those who had come to +their rescue. He maintained that +<a name="IAnchorK5"></a><a href="#IndexK5">Keseberg</a> had murdered my mother and +mutilated my dead father's body; and that he himself felt that the +miserable wretches brought from starvation were not worth the price it +had cost to save them.</p> + +<p>Too young, too ignorant, and too distressed to disprove the accusations +or resent his individual view, I could only take refuge behind what I +had heard and seen in camp, and declare, "I know it is not true; they +were good people, and loved their babies, and were sorry for +everybody."</p> + +<p>How could I believe his cruel words? While I had come from the +mountains remembering most clearly the sufferings from cold, hunger, +thirst, and pitiful surroundings, I had also brought from there a +child's mental picture of tenderest sympathies and bravest +self-denials, evinced by the snow-bound in my father's camp, and of +Mrs. Murphy's earnest effort to soothe and care for us three little +sisters after we had been deserted at the lake cabins by Cady and +Stone; also her motherly watchfulness over Jimmie Eddy, Georgia +Foster, and her own son Simon, and of Mr. Eddy's constant solicitude +for our safety on the journey over the mountains to Sutter's Fort. +Vain, however, my efforts to speak in behalf of either the dead or the +absent; every attempt was met by the ready assertion, "You can't prove +anything; you were not old enough to remember or understand what +happened."</p> + +<p>Oh, how I longed to be grown, to have opportunities to talk with those +of the party who were considered old enough to remember facts, and +would answer the questions I wanted to ask; and how firmly I resolved +that when I grew to be a woman I would tell the story of my party so +clearly that no one could doubt its truth!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a><h2>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> + +<h4>THANK OFFERINGS—MISS DOTY'S SCHOOL—THE BOND OF KINDRED—IN JACKET AND +TROUSERS—CHUM CHARLIE.</h4> + +<p>Grandma had a fixed price for table board, but would not take pay for +medicines, nor for attendance on the sick; consequently, many of her +patients, after reaching San Francisco, sent thank offerings of +articles useful and pleasing to her. Thus, also, Sister Georgia and I +came into possession of pretty calico, Swiss, and delaine dresses, and +shoes that filled our hearts with pride, for they were of Morocco +leather, a red and a green pair for each. We had seen finely dressed +Spanish children wear such shoes, but never supposed that we should be +so favored.</p> + +<p>After the first dresses were finished, there came a Sunday when I was +allowed to go to the <a name="IAnchorC9"></a><a href="#IndexC9">Mission Church</a> with Kitty Purcell, the baker's +little daughter, and I felt wonderfully fine in my pink calico frock, +flecked with a bird's-eye of white, a sun-bonnet to match, and green +shoes.</p> + +<p>The brilliantly lighted altar, decked with flowers, the priests in +gorgeous vestments, the acolyte with the swinging censer, and the +intoned service in foreign tongue, were bewildering to me. My eyes +wandered from the clergy to the benches upon which sat the rich and +the great, then back to the poor, among whom I was kneeling. Each +humble worshipper had spread a bright-bordered handkerchief upon the +bare floor as a kneeling mat. I observed the striking effect, then +recollecting my shoes, put my hand back and drew up the hem of my +dress, that my two green beauties might be seen by the children behind +me. No seven-year-old child ever enjoyed finery more than I did those +little shoes.</p> + +<p>Gifts which grandma considered quite unsuitable came one day in two +neat wooden boxes about thirty inches in length, and eight in width and +depth. They were addressed to us individually, but in grandma's care. +When she removed the cover and a layer of cotton batting from +Georgia's, a beautiful French lady-doll was revealed, exquisitely +dressed, with a spray of flowers in her hair, and another that looped +one side of her lovely pink skirt sufficiently high to display an +elaborately trimmed petticoat. She was so fine in lace and ribbons, +yes, even watch and chain, that grandma was loath to let us touch her, +and insisted she should be handled in the box.</p> + +<p>My gift was a pretty young Swiss matron in holiday attire, really more +picturesque, and quite as costly as Georgia's, but lacking that +daintiness which made the lady-doll untouchable. I had her to hug and +look at only a few moments; then both boxes with their precious +contents were put away for safe keeping, and brought forth only on +state occasions, for the inspection of special visitors.</p> + +<p>Grandma did not want any nonsense put into our heads. She wished us to +be practical, and often quoted maxims to the effect that, "As the twig +is bent, the tree's inclined"; "All work is ennobling if well done"; +"Much book-learning for girls is not conducive to happiness or +success"; and "The highest aim of a girl should be honesty, chastity, +and industry."</p> + +<p>Still, she was so pleased when I could write a little with ink and +quill, that she dictated several letters to Jakie, who was in the dairy +business near Stockton; and in an unguarded moment she agreed that I +should attend <a name="IAnchorS9"></a><a href="#IndexS9">Miss Doty's school</a>. Then she hesitated. She wished to +treat us exactly alike, yet could not spare both at the same time. +Finally, as a way out of the difficulty, she decided that we should +attend school alternate months, during the summer; and that my sister, +being the elder, should begin the course.</p> + +<p>It seemed to me that Georgia's month at school would never end. My own +sped faster than I wished. Miss Doty helped me with my lessons during +part of the noon hour, and encouragingly said, "Be patient, keep +trying, and you will gain your reward."</p> + +<p>While still her pupil, I wrote my long-planned letter to +<a name="IAnchorP7"></a><a href="#IndexP7">Aunt Elizabeth</a>. +Georgia helped to compose it, and when finished, we carried +it to our friend, the postmaster. He banteringly held it in his hand, +until we told its contents and begged that it go to Aunt Elizabeth as +fast as possible. He must have seen that it was incorrectly addressed, +yet he readily promised that if an answer should come addressed to +"Miss Georgia Ann Donner," or to "Miss Eliza Poor Donner," he would +carefully save it for us.</p> + +<p>After many fruitless trips to the post-office, we were one day handed a +letter for grandma. It was not from our aunt, however, but from our +sister Elitha, and bore the sad news that her husband, while on the +range, had been thrown from his horse, and lived but a few moments +after she reached him. She also stated that her little daughter +Elisabeth and her sister Leanna were with her on the ranch, and that +she was anxious to learn how Georgia and I were getting on.</p> + +<p>By advice of short-sighted friends, grandma sent a very formal reply to +the letter, and told us that she did not want Elitha to write again. +Moreover, that we, in gratitude for what she had done for us, should +take her name and call her "mother."</p> + +<p>This endeavor to destroy personal identity and family connection, met +with pathetic opposition. Of our own accord, we had called her grandma. +But "mother"—that name was sacred to her who had taught our infant +lips to give it utterance! We would bestow it on no other.</p> + +<p>Under no circumstance was there difficulty in finding some one ready to +advise or help to plan our duties. With the best of intentions? Yes, +but often, oh, how trying to us, poor little waifs of misfortune!</p> + +<p>One, like a thorn in the flesh, was apportioned to me at the approach +of the Winter of 1849 and 1850. We needed more help in the dairy, but +could get no one except Mr. Marsh, who lived in bachelor quarters half +a mile south on the creek bank. He drove in the bunch of cows found in +the mornings grazing on their homeward way, but was too old to follow +after those on the range. Moreover, he did not know how to milk. +Grandma, therefore, was obliged to give up going after the cows +herself. She hesitated about sending us alone, for of late many +stragglers had been seen crossing the valley, and also Indians +loitering about. Furthermore, Georgia was again coughing badly.</p> + +<p>At a loss what to do, she discussed the situation with a neighbor, who +after reflection asked,</p> + +<p>"Why not dress Eliza in boy's clothes and put her on old Charlie?"</p> + +<p>Grandma threw up her hands at the bare suggestion. It was scandalous, +improper! Why, she had even taught me to shun the boys of the village. +However, she felt differently later in the day when she called me to +her. But in vain was coaxing, in vain was scolding, I refused +positively to don boy's clothing.</p> + +<p>Then she told in strictest confidence that Georgia was very frail, +would probably die young, certainly would not reach twenty-five; and I +ought not to hesitate at what would make her life easier. Still, if I +had no regard for my sister's comfort, she would be compelled to send +us together afoot after the cows, and the exposure might be very bad +for Georgia. This was enough. I would wear the hated clothes and my +little sister should never learn from me the seriousness of her +condition, lest it should hasten her death.</p> + +<p>My suit of brown twill, red flannel shirt, boots, and sou'wester, with +ear muffs attached, were ready for me before the heaviest winter storm. +The jacket and trousers were modelled for a boy of nine, instead of a +girl not yet eight, but grandma assured me that being all wool, the +rain would soon shrink them to my size, also that the boots, which were +too wide in the heel and hurt my toes, would shape themselves to my +feet and prevent the old frost bites from returning.</p> + +<p>I was very unhappy while she helped me to dress, and pinned up my +braids, and hid them under my storm hat; and I was absolutely wretched +when she kissed me and said,</p> + +<p>"It would be hard to find a prettier little boy than you are."</p> + +<p>After again admonishing me to let no one on the range know I was a +girl, and to answer all questions civilly and ride on quickly after my +string of cows, she promised that if I helped her thus through the +short days of the rainy season, she would give back my "girl clothes" +in the Spring, and never again ask me to wear others.</p> + +<p>She led me to where Charlie was tied to a tree. I stepped on to a +block, from there to a stump, put my foot into the stirrup, and +clumsily raised myself into the seat of an old dragoon saddle. My eyes +were too full of tears to see, but grandma put the reins in my hand and +started me away. Away where? To drive up the cows? Yes,—and into wider +fields of thought than she recked.</p> + +<p>After I got beyond our road, I stopped Charlie, and made him turn his +face toward mine, and told him all that had happened, and just how I +felt. The good old horse seemed to understand, for no friend could be +more faithful than Charlie thenceforth proved to me. He learned to +separate our cows from the many strange ones on the plain; to move +faster when it rained; to choose the crossings that were safe; and to +avoid the branches that might scrape me from his back. Grandma was +pleased to learn that drivers on the range, when inquiring about +strays, addressed me as "Bubbie." My humiliation, however, was so great +that, though Georgia and I were room-mates, and had secret day +meetings, I never went near her when others were by.</p> + +<p>She was allowed to play oftener with neighbors' children, and +occasionally spent a week or more with Mrs. Bergwald, helping her to +care for her little daughter. While away, she learned fine needlework, +had fewer crying spells, and was more contented than at home with +grandma.</p> + +<p>This happiness in her life added much to mine, and it came to pass that +the duty which had seemed such a bitter task, became a pleasure. As the +days lengthened, chum Charlie and I kept earlier hours, and crept +closer to the heart of nature. We read the signs of the day in the dawn +tints; watched the coyotes and other night prowlers slink back to their +lairs; saw where the various birds went to housekeeping, and how they +cared for their young; knew them also by their call and song. We could +show where Johnnie-jump-ups and baby-blue-eyes grew thickest; where the +cream cups were largest; and where the wild forget-me-nots blossomed. +We explored each nook and corner for miles around, and felt that +everything that God had made and man had not put his mark upon was +ours.</p> + +<p>The aged boughs heaped by the wind in wild confusion about the maimed +and storm-beaten tree-trunks seemed to assume fantastic shapes and +expressions as we approached from different directions, or viewed them +under light and shadow of changing weather. Gnarled and twisted, they +became elves and goblins, and the huge piles of storm wreckage were +transformed into weird old ruins and deserted castles like those which +grandma had described to me in legends of the Rhine. At twilight I was +often afraid to pass, lest giants and ghosts should show themselves +between uncanny arches. Then all that was needed was a low cluck to +Charlie, and off he would start on a run past imaginary dangers.</p> + +<p>It was late in the Spring when grandma gave back my "girl clothes" and +wearily told me she had hired a boy to drive in the cows, and a man to +help to milk; and that Georgia was to look after the house, and I to +take her own place in the corrals, because she was sick and would have +to be cupped and bled before she could be better.</p> + +<p>Grandpa came home early next day and everything was ready for the +treatment immediately after the noon meal. Grandma looked so grave, and +gave so many instructions about household and dairy matters, that +Georgia and I feared that we might lose her. I verily believe we would +have slipped away during the operation, had grandpa not commanded us to +stay near, as he might need assistance. In dread we watched every +movement, saw what made grandma's face pale, and where the sore spots +were. Indeed our sympathies were so strained, our fingers fumbled +awkwardly as we adjusted the covers about her weakened form.</p> + +<p>As soon as her illness became known, neighbors came from far and near +to help with the dairy work or nursing; and keen was their +disappointment when she replied, "I thank you for your kind offers, but +the children are handy and know my ways."</p> + +<p>Regularly she asked me about the cows, and if the goats had been +milked, the eggs gathered, and the pigs fed. She remembered and planned +the work, but did not regain strength as rapidly as she wished; nor did +she resume her place in the corrals, even after she was up and around, +but had a way of coming unexpectedly to see if her instructions were +being carried out.</p> + +<p>One day she became quite angry on finding me talking with a stranger. +He was well dressed and spoke like a gentleman, touched his hat as she +drew near and remarked, "This little girl tells me she is an orphan, +and that you have been very kind to her." Grandma was uncivil in her +reply, and he went away. Then she warned me, "Beware of wolves in +sheep's clothing," and insisted that no man wearing such fine clothes +and having such soft hands could earn an honest living. I did not +repeat what he had told me of his little daughter, who lived in a +beautiful home in New York, and was about my age, and had no sister; +and his wish that I were there with her. I could not understand what +harm there was in his questions or my answers. Did I not remind him of +his own little girl? And had I not heard lonely miners tell of times +when they gladly would have walked ten miles to shake hands and talk a +few moments with a child?</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a><h2>CHAPTER XXVII</h2> + +<h4>CAPT. FRISBIE—WEDDING FESTIVITIES—THE MASTERPIECE OF GRANDMA'S +YOUTH—SEÑORA VALLEJO—JAKIE'S RETURN—HIS DEATH—A CHEROKEE INDIAN WHO +HAD STOOD BY MY FATHER'S GRAVE.</h4> + +<p><a name="IAnchorF22"></a><a href="#IndexF22">Captain Frisbie</a> spent much time in Sonoma after Company H was +disbanded, and observing ones remarked that the attraction was Miss +Fannie Vallejo. Yet, not until 1851 did the General consent to part +with his first-born daughter. Weeks before the marriage day, friends +began arriving at the bride's home, and large orders came to grandma +for dairy supplies.</p> + +<p>She anticipated the coming event with interest and pleasure, because +the prolonged and brilliant festivities would afford her an +opportunity to display her fancy and talent in butter modelling. For +the work, she did not charge, but simply weighed the butter for the +designs and put it into crocks standing in cold water in the adobe +store-house where, in the evenings, after candle-light, we three +gathered.</p> + +<p>Her implements were a circular hardwood board, a paddle, a set of +small, well pointed sticks, a thin-bladed knife, and squares of white +muslin of various degrees of fineness. She talked and modelled, and we +listening watched the fascinating process; saw her take the plastic +substance, fashion a duck with ducklings on a pond, a lamb curled up +asleep, and a couched lion with shaggy head resting upon his fore-paws. +We watched her press beads of proper size and color into the eye +sockets; skilfully finish the base upon which each figure lay; then +twist a lump of butter into a square of fine muslin, and deftly +squeeze, until it crinkled through the meshes in form of fleece for the +lamb's coat, then use a different mesh to produce the strands for the +lion's mane and the tuft for the end of his tail.</p> + +<p>In exuberant delight we exclaimed, "Oh, grandma, how did you learn to +make such wonderful things?"</p> + +<p>"I did not learn, it is a gift," she replied.</p> + +<p>Then she spoke of her modelling in childhood, and her subsequent +masterpiece, which had won the commendation of <a name="IAnchorB31"></a><a href="#IndexB31">Napoleon</a> and +<a name="IAnchorJ3"></a><a href="#IndexJ3">Empress Josephine</a>.</p> + +<p>At that auspicious time, she was but eighteen years of age, and second +cook in the principal tavern of Neuchatel, Switzerland. Georgia and I +sat entranced, as with animated words and gestures she pictured the +appearance of the buglers and heralds who came weeks in advance to +announce the date on which the Emperor and Empress would arrive in that +town and dine at the tavern; then the excitement and enthusiastic +preparations which followed. She described the consultations between +the <i>Herr Wirth</i> and the <i>Frau Wirthin</i> and their maids; and how, +finally, Marie's butter-piece for the christening feast of the child of +the Herr Graf was remembered; and she, the lowly second cook, was told +that a corner in the cellar would be set apart for her especial use, +and that she should have her evenings to devote to the work, and three +<i>groschen</i> (seven and a half cents) added to her week's wages, if she +would produce a fitting centrepiece for the <a name="IAnchorN1"></a><a href="#IndexN1">Emperor's</a> table.</p> + +<p>Five consecutive nights, she designed and modelled until the watchman's +midnight cry drove her from work, and at three o'clock in the morning +of the sixth day, she finished. And what a centrepiece it was! It +required the careful handling of no less than three persons to get it +in place on the table, where the Emperor might see at a glance the +groups of figures along the splendid highway, which was spanned by +arches and terminated with a magnificently wrought gateway, surmounted +by His Majesty's coat of arms.</p> + +<p>We scarcely winked as we listened to the rest of the happenings on that +memorable day. She recounted how she had dropped everything at the +sound of martial music and from the tiny open space at the window +caught glimpses of the passing pageant—of the royal coaches, of the +maids of honor, of Josephine in gorgeous attire, of the snow-white +poodle snuggled close in the Empress's arms. Then she told how she +heard a heavy thud by the kitchen fire, which made her rush back, only +to discover that the head cook had fallen to the floor in a faint!</p> + +<p>She gave the quick call which brought the Frau Wirthin to the scene of +confusion, where in mute agony, she looked from servant to servant, +until, with hands clasped, and eyes full of tears, she implored, +"Marie, take the higher place for the day, and with God's help, make no +mistake."</p> + +<p>Then she went on to say that while the dinner was being served, the +Emperor admired the butter-piece, and on hearing that it was the work +of a young maidservant in the house, commanded that she be brought in +to receive commendation of himself and the Empress. Again the Frau +Wirthin rushed to the kitchen in great excitement, and—knowing that +Marie's face was red from heat of the fire, that she was nervous from +added responsibilities, and not dressed for presentation—cried with +quivering lips:</p> + +<p>"Ah, Marie! the butter-piece is so grand, it brings us into trouble. +The great Emperor asks to see thee, and thou must come!"</p> + +<p>She told how poor, red-faced, bewildered Marie dropped her ladle and +stared at the speaker, then rolled down her sleeves while the Frau +Wirthin tied her own best white apron around her waist, at the same +time instructing her in the manner in which she must hold her dress at +the sides, between thumb and forefinger, and spread the skirt wide, in +making a low, reverential bow. But Marie was so upset that she realized +only that her heart was beating like a trip-hammer, and her form +shaking like an aspen leaf, while being led before those august +personages. Yet, after it was all over, she was informed that the +Emperor and Empress had spoken kindly to her, and that she, herself, +had made her bow and backed out of the room admirably for one in her +position, and ought to feel that the great honor conferred upon her had +covered with glory all the ills and embarrassments she had suffered.</p> + +<p>To impress us more fully with the importance of that event, grandma had +Georgia and me stand up on our cellar floor and learn to make that +deferential bow, she by turns, taking the parts of the Frau Wirthin, +the Emperor, and the Empress.</p> + +<p>She now finished her modelling with a dainty centrepiece for the +bride's table, and let me go with her when she carried it to the +Vallejo mansion. It gave great satisfaction; and while the family and +guests were admiring it, Señora Vallejo took me by the hand, saying in +her own musical tongue, "Come, little daughter, and play while you +wait."</p> + +<p>She led me to a room that had pictures on the walls, and left me +surrounded by toys. But I could not play. My eyes wandered about until +they became riveted on one corner of the room, where stood a child's +crib which looked like gold. Its head and foot boards were embellished +with figures of angels; and a canopy of lace like a fleecy cloud +hovered over them. The bed was white, but the pillows were covered with +pink silk and encased in slips of linen lawn, exquisite with rare +needlework. I touched it before I left the room, wondering what the +little girl dreamed in that beautiful bed; and on the way home, grandma +and I discussed all these things.</p> + +<p>The linen pillow-slips were as fine as those Señorita Isabella Fitch +showed me, when she gave me the few highly prized lessons in simple +drawn-work; and her cousin, Señorita Leese, had taught me hemming. +These young ladies were related to the Vallejos and also lived in large +houses facing the plaza, and were always kind to Georgia and me. In +fact, some of my sweetest memories of Sonoma are associated with these +three Spanish homes. Their people never asked unfeeling questions, nor +repeated harrowing tales; and I did not learn until I was grown that +they had been among the large contributors to the fund for the relief +of our party.</p> + +<p>I have a faint recollection of listening to the chimes of the wedding +bells, and later, of hearing that +<a name="IAnchorF23"></a><a href="#IndexF23">Captain Frisbie</a> had taken his bride +away; but that is all, for about that time dear old Jakie returned to +us in ill health, and our thoughts and care turned to him. He was so +feeble and wasted that grandma sent for the French physician who had +recently come among us. Even he said that he feared that Jakie had +stayed away too long. After months of treatment, the doctor shook his +head saying: "I have done my best with the medicines at hand. The only +thing that remains to be tried is a tea steeped from the nettle root. +That may give relief."</p> + +<p>As soon as we could get ready after the doctor uttered those words, +Georgia and I, equipped with hoe, large knife, and basket were on our +way to the Sonoma River. We had a full two miles and a half to walk, +but did not mind that, because we were going for something that might +take Jakie's pains away. Georgia was to press down the nettle stems +with a stick, while I cut them off and hoed up the roots.</p> + +<p>The plants towered luxuriantly above our heads, making the task +extremely painful. No sooner would I commence operations than the +branches, slipping from under the stick, would brush Georgia's face, +and strike my hands and arms with stinging force, and by the time we +had secured the required number of roots, we were covered with fiery +welts. We took off our shoes and stockings, waded into the stream and +bathed our faces, hands, and arms, then rested and ate the lunch we had +brought with us.</p> + +<p>As we turned homeward, we observed several Indians approaching by the +bushy path, the one in front staggering, and his squaw behind, making +frantic motions to us to hurry over the snake fence near-by. This we +did as speedily as possible, and succeeded none too soon; for as we +reached the ground on the safe side, he stopped us, and angrily +demanded the contents of our basket. We opened it, and when he saw what +it contained he stamped his wabbling foot and motioned us to be off. We +obeyed with alacrity, for it was our first experience with a drunken +Indian, and greatly alarmed us.</p> + +<p>The tea may have eased Jakie's pain, but it did not accomplish what we +had hoped. One morning late in Summer, he asked grandpa to bring a +lawyer and witnesses so that he could make his will. This request made +us all move about very quietly and feel very serious. After the lawyer +went away, grandma told us that Jakie had willed us each fifty dollars +in gold, and the rest of his property to grandpa and herself. A few +weeks later, when the sap ceased flowing to the branches of the trees, +and the yellow leaves were falling, we laid Jakie beside other friends +in the oak grove within sight of our house.</p> + +<p>Grandma put on deep mourning, but Georgia and I had only black +sun-bonnets, which we wore with heartfelt grief. The following Spring +grandpa had the grave enclosed with a white paling; and we children +planted Castilian rose bushes at the head and foot of the mound, and +carried water to them from the house, and in time their branches met +and the grave was a bed of fragrant blossoms.</p> + +<p>One day as I was returning from it with my empty pail, a tidy, +black-eyed woman came up to me and said,</p> + +<p>"I'm a Cherokee Indian, the wife of one of the three drovers that sold +the Brunners them long-horned cattle that was delivered the other day. +I know who you are, and if you'll sit on that log by me, I'll tell you +something."</p> + +<p>We took the seats shaded by the fence and she continued with +unmistakable pride: "I can read and write quite a little, and me and +the men belong to the same tribe. We drove our band of cattle across +the plains and over the Sierras, and have sold them for more than we +expected to get. We are going back the same road, but first I wanted to +see you little girls. I heard lots about your father's party, and how +you all suffered in the mountains, and that no one seems to remember +what became of his body. Now, child, I tell the truth. I stood by your +father's grave and read his name writ on the headboard, and come to +tell you that he was buried in a long grave near his own camp in the +mountains. I'm glad at seeing you, but am going away, wishing you +wasn't so cut off from your own people."</p> + +<p>So earnest was she, that I believed what she told me, and was sorry +that I could not answer all her questions. We parted as most people did +in those days, feeling that the meeting was good, and the parting might +be forever.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a><h2>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2> + +<h4>ELITHA, FRANCES, AND MR. MILLER VISIT US—MRS. BRUNNER CLAIMS US AS HER +CHILDREN—THE DAGUERREOTYPE.</h4> + +<p>The spring-tide of 1852 was bewitchingly beautiful; hills and plain +were covered with wild flowers in countless shapes and hues. They were +so friendly that they sprang up in dainty clusters close to the house +doors, or wherever an inch of ground would give them foothold.</p> + +<p>They seemed to call to me, and I looked into their bright faces, threw +myself among them, and hugged as many as my arms could encircle, then +laid my ear close to the ground to catch the low sound of moving leaf +and stem, or of the mysterious ticking in the earth, which foretells +the coming of later plants. Sometimes in my ecstasy, I would shut my +eyes and lie still for a while, then open them inquiringly, to assure +myself that all my favorites were around me still, and that it was not +all a day-dream.</p> + +<p>This lovely season mellowed into the Summer which brought a most +unexpected letter from our sister <a name="IAnchorD17"></a><a href="#IndexD17">Frances</a>, who had been living all +these years with the family of Mr. James F. Reed, in San Jose. +Childlike, she wrote:</p> + +<blockquote>I am happy, but there has not been a day since I left Sutter's Fort +that I haven't thought of my little sisters and wanted to see them. +<a name="IAnchorM18"></a><a href="#IndexM18">Hiram Miller</a>, our guardian, says he will take me to see you soon, +and Elitha is going too.</blockquote> + +<p>After the first few days of wondering, grandma rarely mentioned our +prospective visitors, nor did she show Georgia or me the letter she +herself had received from Elitha, but we re-read ours until we knew it +by heart, and were filled with delightful anticipations. We imagined +that our blue-eyed sister with the golden curls would look as she did +when we parted, and recalled many things that we had said and done +together at the Fort.</p> + +<p>I asked grandma what "guardian" meant, and after she explained, I was +not pleased with mine, and dreaded his coming, for I had not forgotten +how Mr. Miller had promised me a lump of sugar that night in the +Sierras, and then did not have it for me after I had walked the +required distance; nor could I quite forgive the severe punishment he +administered next morning because I refused to go forward and cried to +return to mother when he told me that I must walk as far as Georgia and +Frances did that day.</p> + +<p>Autumn was well advanced before the lumbering old passenger coach +brought our long-expected guests from the <i>embarcadero</i>, and after the +excitement of the meeting was over, I stealthily scanned each face and +figure. Mr. Miller's stocky form in coarse, dark clothes, his cold gray +eyes, uneven locks, stubby beard, and teeth and lips browned by +tobacco, chewing, were not unfamiliar; but he looked less tired, more +patient, and was a kindlier spoken man than I had remembered.</p> + +<p><a name="IAnchorD13"></a><a href="#IndexD13">Elitha</a>, well dressed, tall, slender, and regular of feature, had the +complexion and sparkling black eyes which mark the handsome brunette. I +was more surprised than disappointed, however, to see that the girl of +twelve, who slipped one arm around Georgia and the other around me in a +long, loving embrace, had nothing about her that resembled our little +sister Frances, except her blue eyes and motherly touch.</p> + +<p>The week of their visit was joyous indeed. Many courtesies were +extended by friends with whom we had travelled from time to time on the +plains. One never-to-be-forgotten afternoon was spent with the Boggs +family at their beautiful home amid orchard and vineyard near the +foothills.</p> + +<p>On Sunday, the bell of the South Methodist Church called us to service. +In those days, the men occupied the benches on one side of the +building, and the women and children on the other; and I noticed that +several of the young men found difficulty in keeping their eyes from +straying in our direction, and after service, more than one came to +inquire after grandma's health.</p> + +<p>Mr. Miller passed so little time in our company that I remember only +his arrival and his one serious talk with grandma, when he asked her +the amount due her on account of the trouble and expense we two +children had been since she had taken us in charge. She told him +significantly that there was nothing to pay, because we were her +children, and that she was abundantly able to take care of us. In +proof, she handed him a daguerreotype taken the previous year.</p> + +<p>It pictured herself comfortably seated, and one of us standing at +either side with an elbow resting upon her shoulder, and a chubby face +leaning against the uplifted hand. She was arrayed in her best cap, +handsome embroidered black satin dress and apron, lace sleeve ruffs, +kerchief, watch and chain. We were twin-like in lace-trimmed dresses of +light blue dimity, striped with a tan-colored vine, blue sashes and +hair ribbons; and each held a bunch of flowers in her hand. It was a +costly trinket, in a case inlaid with pink roses, in mother of pearl, +and she was very proud of it.</p> + +<p>Grandma's answer to Mr. Miller was a death-knell to Elitha's hopes and +plans in our behalf. Her little daughter had been dead more than a +year. <a name="IAnchorD57"></a><a href="#IndexD57">Sister Leanna</a> had recently married and gone to a home of her own, +and the previous week the place made vacant by the marriage had been +given to Frances, with the ready approval of Hiram Miller and Mr. and +Mrs. Reed. She had now come to Sonoma hoping that if Mr. Miller should +pay grandma for the care we had been to her, she would consent to give +us up in order that we four sisters might be reunited in one home. +Elitha now foresaw that such a suggestion would not only result in +failure, but arouse grandma's antagonism, and cut off future +communication between us.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a><h2>CHAPTER XXIX</h2> + +<h4>GREAT SMALLPOX EPIDEMIC—ST. MARY'S HALL—THANKSGIVING DAY IN +CALIFORNIA—ANOTHER BROTHER-IN-LAW.</h4> + +<p>"Mrs. Brunner has become too childish to have the responsibility of +young girls," had been frequently remarked before Elitha's visit; and +after her departure, the same friends expressed regret that she had not +taken us away with her.</p> + +<p>These whispered comments, which did not improve our situation, suddenly +ceased, for the <a name="IAnchorS22"></a><a href="#IndexS22">smallpox</a> made its appearance in Sonoma, and helpers +were needed to care for the afflicted. Grandma had had the disease in +infancy and could go among the patients without fear. In fact, she had +such confidence in her method of treating it, that she would not have +Georgia and me vaccinated while the epidemic prevailed, insisting that +if we should take the disease she could nurse us through it without +disfigurement, and we would thenceforth be immune. She did not expose +us during what she termed the "catching-stage," but after that had +passed, she called us to share her work and become familiar with its +details, and taught us how to brew the teas, make the ointments, and +apply them.</p> + +<p>I do not remember a death among her patients, and only two who were +badly disfigured. One was our pretty Miss Sallie Lewis, who had the +dread disease in confluent form. Grandma was called hurriedly in the +night, because the afflicted girl, in delirium, had loosened the straps +which held her upon her bed, and while her attendant was out of the +room had rushed from the house into the rain, and was not found until +after she had become thoroughly drenched. Grandma had never before +treated such serious conditions, yet strove heroically, and helped to +restore Miss Sallie to health, but could not keep the cruel imprints +from her face.</p> + +<p>The other was our arch-enemy, Castle, who seemed so near death that one +night as grandma was peering into the darkness for signal lights from +the homes of the sick, she exclaimed impulsively, "Hark, children! +there goes the Catholic bell. Count its strokes. Castle is a Catholic, +and was very low when I saw him to-day." Together we slowly counted the +knells until she stopped us, saying, "It's for somebody else; Castle is +not so old."</p> + +<p>She was right. Later he came to us to recuperate, and was the most +exacting and profane man we ever waited on. He conceived a special +grudge against Georgia, whom he had caught slyly laughing when she +first observed the change in his appearance. Yet months previous, he +had laid the foundation for her mirth.</p> + +<a name="image-40"><!-- Image 40 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/040.jpg" height="394" width="300" +alt="MRS. BRUNNER, GEORGIA AND ELIZA DONNER"> +</center> + +<h5>MRS. BRUNNER, GEORGIA AND ELIZA DONNER</h5> + +<hr> + +<a name="image-41"><!-- Image 41 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/041.jpg" height="404" width="300" +alt="S.O. HOUGHTON, Member of Col. J.D. Stevenson's First Regiment of N.Y. Volunteers"> +</center> + +<h5>S.O. HOUGHTON, Member of Col. J.D. Stevenson's First Regiment of N.Y. Volunteers</h5> + +<hr> + +<a name="image-42"><!-- Image 42 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/042.jpg" height="418" width="300" +alt="ELIZA P. DONNER"> +</center> + +<h5>ELIZA P. DONNER</h5> + +<hr> + +<p>He was then a handsome, rugged fellow, and particularly proud of the +shape of his nose. Frequently had he twitted my sensitive sister about +her little nose, and had once made her very angry in the presence of +others, by offering to tell her a story, then continuing: "God and the +devil take turns in shaping noses. Now, look at mine, large and finely +shaped. This is God's work; but when yours was growing, it was the +devil's turn, and he shaped that little dab on your face and called it +a nose."</p> + +<p>Georgia fled, and cried in anger over this indignity, declaring that +she hated Castle and would not be sorry if something should happen to +spoil his fine nose. So when he came to us from the sick-room, soured +and crestfallen because disease had deeply pitted and seamed that +feature which had formerly been his pride, she laughingly whispered, +"Well, I don't care, my nose could never look like his, even if I had +the smallpox, for there is not so much of it to spoil."</p> + +<p>Our dislike of the man became intense; and later, when we discovered +that he was to be bartender at grandpa's bar, and board at our house, +we held an indignation meeting in the back yard. This was more +satisfaction to Georgia than to me, for she had the pleasure of +declaring that if grandma took that man to board, she would be a +Schweitzer child no longer, she would stop speaking German, make her +clothes like American children's; and that she knew her friend Mrs. +Bergwald would give her a home, if grandma should send her away.</p> + +<p>Here the meeting was suddenly interrupted by the discovery that grandma +was standing behind us. We did not know how long she had been there nor +how much she had overheard, nor which she meant to strike with the +switch she had in her hand. However, we were sitting close together and +my left arm felt the sting, and it aroused in me the spirit of +rebellion. I felt that I had outgrown such correction, nor had I +deserved it; and I told her that she should never, never strike me +again. Then I walked to the house alone.</p> + +<p>A few moments later Georgia came up to our room, and found me dressing +myself with greatest care. In amazement she asked, "Eliza, where are +you going?" and was dumbfounded when I answered, "To find another home +for us."</p> + +<p>In the lower hall I encountered grandma, whose anger had cooled, and +she asked the question Georgia had. I raised my sleeve, showed the welt +on my arm, and replied, "I am going to see if I can't find a home where +they will treat me kindly."</p> + +<p>Poor grandma was conscience-stricken, drew me into her own room, and +did not let me leave it until after she had soothed my hurts and we had +become friends again.</p> + +<p>Georgia went to Mrs. Bergwald's, and remained quite a while. When she +came back speaking English, and insisting that she was an American, +grandma became very angry, and threatened to send her away among +strangers; then hesitated, as if realizing how fully Georgia belonged +to me and I to her, and that we would cling together whatever might +happen. In her perplexity, she besought Mrs. Bergwald's advice.</p> + +<p>Now, Mrs. Bergwald was a native of Stockholm, a lady of rare culture, +and used the French language in conversing with grandma. She spoke +feelingly of my little sister, said that she was companionable, +willing, and helpful; anxious to learn the nicer ways of work, and +ladylike accomplishments. She could see no harm in Georgia wishing to +remain an American, since to love one's own people and country was +natural.</p> + +<p>Thereafter grandma changed her methods. She gave us our dolls to look +at, and keep among our possessions, likewise most of our keepsakes. She +also unlocked her carefully tended parlor and we three spent pleasant +evenings there. Sometimes she would let us bring her, from under the +sofa, her gorgeous prints, illustrating "Wilhelm Tell," and would +repeat the text relating to the scenes as we examined each picture with +eager interest.</p> + +<p>We were also allowed to go to Sunday school oftener, and later, she +sent me part of the term to the select school for girls recently +established by Dr. Ver Mehr, an Episcopalian clergyman. In fact, my +tuition was expected to offset the school's milk bill, yet that did not +lessen my enthusiasm. I was eager for knowledge. I also expected to +meet familiar faces in that great building, which had been the home of +<a name="IAnchorL2"></a><a href="#IndexL2">Mr. Jacob Leese</a>. But upon entering I saw only finely dressed young +ladies from other parts of the State promenading in the halls, and +small girls flitting about in the yard like bright-winged butterflies. +Some had received letters from home and were calling out the news; +others were engaged in games that were strange to me. The bell rang, I +followed to the recitation hall, and was assigned a seat below the +rest, because I was the only small Sonoma girl yet enrolled.</p> + +<p>I made several life-long friends at that institute; still it was easy +to see that <a name="IAnchorS10"></a><a href="#IndexS10">"St. Mary's Hall"</a> +was established for pupils who had been +reared in the lap of wealth and ease; not for those whose hands were +rough like mine. Nor was there a class for me. I seemed to be between +grades, and had the discouragement of trying to keep up with girls +older and farther advanced.</p> + +<p>My educational advantages in Sonoma closed with my half term at St. +Mary's Hall, grandma believing that I had gone to school long enough to +be able to finish my studies without teachers.</p> + +<p>Georgia was more fortunate. When <a name="IAnchorS11"></a><a href="#IndexS11">Miss Hutchinson</a> +opened "The Young +Ladies' Seminary" in the Fall, grandma decided to lend it a helping +hand by sending her a term as a day scholar. My delighted sister was +soon in touch with a crowd of other little girls, and brought home many +of their bright sayings for my edification.</p> + +<p>One evening she rushed into the house bubbling over with excitement and +joyously proclaimed: "Oh, Eliza, Miss Hutchinson is going to give a +great dinner to her pupils on <a name="IAnchorT1"></a><a href="#IndexT1">Thanksgiving Day</a>; and I am to go, and you +also, as her guest."</p> + +<p>Grandma was pleased that I was invited, and declared that she would +send a liberal donation of milk and cheese as a mark of appreciation.</p> + +<p>I caught much of Georgia's spirit of delight, for I had a vivid +recollection of the grand dinner given in commemoration of our very +first legally appointed <a name="IAnchorT2"></a><a href="#IndexT2">Thanksgiving Day</a> in California; I had only to +close my eyes, and in thought would reappear the longest and most +bountifully spread table I had ever seen. Turkey, chicken, and wild +duck, at the ends; a whole roasted pig in the centre, and more than +enough delicious accompaniments to cover the spaces between. Then the +grown folk dining first, and the flock of hungry children coming later; +the speaking, laughing, and clapping of hands, with which the old home +customs were introduced in the new land.</p> + +<p>There, I wore a dark calico dress and sun-bonnet, both made by poor +Mrs. McCutchen of the <a name="IAnchorD67"></a><a href="#IndexD67">Donner Party</a>, who had to take in sewing for a +livelihood; but to the Seminary, I should wear grandpa's gift, a costly +alpaca, changeable in the sunlight to soft mingling bluish and greenish +colors of the peacock. Its wide skirt reached to my shoetops, and the +gathers to its full waist were gauged to a sharp peak in front. A wide +open V from the shoulder down to the peak displayed an embroidered +white Swiss chemisette. The sleeves, small at the wrist, were trimmed +with folds of the material and a quilling of white lace at the hand.</p> + +<p>On the all-important morning, grandma was anxious that I should look +well; and after she had looped my braids with bows of blue ribbon and +fastened my dress, she brought forth my dainty bonnet, her own gift. +Deft fingers had shirred the pale-blue silk over a frame which had +been cut down from ladies' size, arranged an exquisite spray of +Maréchal Niel rosebuds and foliage on the outside, and quilled a soft +white ruching around the face, which emphasized the Frenchy style and +finish so pleasing to grandma.</p> + +<p>Did I look old fashioned? Yes, for grandma said, "Thou art like a +picture I saw somewhere long ago." Then she continued brightly, "Here +are thy mits, and thy little embroidered handkerchief folded in a +square. Carry it carefully so it won't get mussed before the company +see it, and come not back late for milking."</p> + +<p>The Seminary playground was so noisy with chatter and screams of joy, +that it was impossible to remember all the games we played; and later +the dining-room and its offerings were so surprising and so beautifully +decorated that the sight nearly deprived me of my appetite.</p> + +<p>"Mumps. Bite a pickle and see if it ain't so!" exclaimed a neighbor to +whom Georgia was showing her painful and swollen face. True enough, the +least taste of anything sour produced the tell-tale shock. But the most +aggravating feature of the illness was that it developed the week that +sister <a name="IAnchorD14"></a><a href="#IndexD14">Elitha</a> and Mr. +Benjamin W. Wilder were married in Sacramento; +and when they reached Sonoma on their wedding tour, we could not visit +with them, because neither had had the disease.</p> + +<p>They came to our house, and we had a hurried little talk with a closed +window between us, and were favorably impressed by our tall "Brother +Ben," who had very blue eyes and soft brown hair. He was the second of +the three Wilder brothers, who had been among the early gold-seekers, +and tried roughing it in the mines. Though a native of Rhode Island, +and of Puritan ancestry, he was quite Western in appearance.</p> + +<p>Though not a wealthy man, he had a competency, for he and his elder +brother were owners of an undivided half of Ranchos de los Cazadores +(three leagues of land in Sacramento Valley), which was well stocked +with horned cattle and good horses. He was also interested in a stage +line running between Sacramento and the gold regions. He encouraged +Elitha in her wish to make us members of their household, and the home +they had to offer us was convenient to public schools; yet for obvious +reasons they were now silent on the subject.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXX"></a><h2>CHAPTER XXX</h2> + +<h4>IDEALS AND LONGINGS—THE FUTURE—CHRISTMAS.</h4> + +<p>At the time of which I now speak, I was in my eleventh year, but older +in feeling and thought. I had ideals and wanted to live up to them, and +my way was blocked by difficulties. Often, in the cowyard, I would say +to the dumb creatures before me,</p> + +<p>"I shall milk you dry, and be kind to you as long as I stay; but I +shall not always be here doing this kind of work."</p> + +<p>These feelings had been growing since the beginning of grandpa's +partnership in that bar-room. Neither he nor grandma saw harm in the +business. They regarded it as a convenient place where men could meet +and spend a social evening, and where strangers might feel at home. +Yet, who could say that harm did not emanate from that bar? I could not +but wish that grandpa had no interest in it. I did not want to blame +him, for he was kind by nature, and had been more than benefactor to +Georgia and me.</p> + +<p>Fond recollection was ever bringing to mind joys he had woven into our +early childhood. Especially tender and precious thoughts were +associated with that night long ago when he hurried home to inspect a +daguerreotype that had just been taken. Grandma handed it to him with +the complaisant remark, "Mine and Georgia's sind fine; but Eliza's +shows that she forgot herself and ist watching how the thing ist being +made."</p> + +<p>Grandpa looked at it in silence, observing that grandma's likeness was +natural, and Georgia's perfect, in fact, pretty as could be; while I, +not being tall enough to rest my elbow comfortably upon grandma's +shoulder, stood awkwardly with my flowers drooping and eyes turned, +intently watching in the direction of the operator. Regretfully, I +explained:</p> + +<p>"Grandpa, mine was best two times, for Georgia moved in the first one, +and grandma in the next, and the pictureman said after each, 'We must +try again.' And he would have tried yet again, for me, but the sun was +low, and grandma said she was sorry but this would have to do."</p> + +<p>Lovingly, he then drew me to his side, saying, "Never mind, <i>mein +Schatz</i> (my treasure); let grandma and Georgia keep this, and when that +pictureman comes back, grandpa will sit for his picture, and thou shalt +stand at his knee. He'll buy thee a long gold chain to wear around thy +neck, and thou shalt be dressed all in white and look like an angel."</p> + +<p>Being younger than grandma, and more fond of amusements, he had taken +us to many entertainments; notably, Odd Fellows' picnics and dinners, +where he wore the little white linen apron, which we thought would be +cute for our dolls. He often reminded grandma that she should teach us +to speak the high German, so that we might appear well among +gentlefolk; and my cherished keepsakes included two wee gold dollars +and a fifty-cent piece of the same bright metal, which he had given me +after fortunate sales from the herds. But dearest of all is remembrance +of the evening long ago when he befriended us at Sutter's Fort.</p> + +<p>Still, not even those tender recollections could longer hold in check +my resentment against the influences and associations which were +filtering through that bar-room, and robbing me of companions and +privileges that I valued. More than once had I determined to run away, +and then desisted, knowing that I should leave two lonely old people +grieving over my seeming ingratitude. This question of duty to self and +to those who had befriended me haunted my working hours, went with me +to church and Sunday school, and troubled my mind when I was supposed +to be asleep.</p> + +<p>Strange, indeed, would it have seemed to me, could I then have known +that before my thirtieth year, I should be welcomed in the home of the +military chief of our nation. Strange, also, that the young Lieutenant, +<a name="IAnchorS15"></a><a href="#IndexS15">William Tecumseh Sherman</a>, who when visiting in Sonoma, came with his +fellow-officers to the Brunner farm, should have attained that dignity. +Equally impossible would it have been then to conceive that in so short +a time, I, a happy mother and the wife of a Congressional +Representative, should be a guest at the brilliant receptions of the +foreign diplomats and at the Executive Mansion in the city of +Washington. Is it any wonder that in later years when my mind reverted +to those days, I almost questioned my identity?</p> + +<p>Georgia's return from Mrs. Bergwald's before Christmas gave me a chance +to talk matters over with her, and we decided that we must leave our +present surroundings. Yet, how to get away, and when, puzzled us. Our +only hope of escape seemed to be to slip off together some moonlight +night.</p> + +<p>"But," my sister remarked gravely, "we can't do it before Christmas! +You forget the white flannel skirt that I am embroidering for grandma, +the pillow-slips that you are hemstitching and trimming with lace for +her; and the beautiful white shirt that you have for grandpa."</p> + +<p>She was sure that not to stay and give them as we had planned, would be +as bad as breaking a promise. So, we took out our work and hid +ourselves to sew a while.</p> + +<p>My undertaking was not so large or elaborate as hers, and when I +finished, she still had quite a piece to do, and was out of floss. She +had pin-pricked from an embroidered silk shawl on to strips of white +paper, the outline of a vine representing foliage, buds, and blossoms; +then basted the paper in place around the skirt. The colors were shaded +green and pink. Unable to get the floss for the blossoms, she had +bought narrow pink silk braid and outlined each rose and bud, then +embroidered the foliage in green. Some might have thought it a trifle +gaudy, but to me it seemed beautiful, and I was proud of her +handiwork.</p> + +<p>I washed, starched, and ironed the pillow-slips while grandma was from +home, and they did look well, for I had taken great pains in doing my +work. Several days before the appointed time, grandma, in great good +humor, showed us the dresses she had been hiding from us; and then and +there, like three children unable to keep their secrets longer, we +exchanged gifts, and were as pleased as if we had waited until +Christmas morning.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a><h2>CHAPTER XXXI</h2> + +<h4>THE WIDOW STEIN AND LITTLE JOHNNIE—"DAUGHTERS OF A SAINTED +MOTHER"—ESTRANGEMENT AND DESOLATION—A RESOLUTION AND A VOW—MY PEOPLE +ARRIVE AND PLAN TO BEAR ME AWAY.</h4> + +<p>On the first of September, 1855, a widow, whom I shall call Stein, and +her little son Johnnie, came to visit grandma. She considered herself a +friend by reason of the fact that she and her five children had been +hospitably entertained in our home two years earlier, upon their +arrival in California. For grandpa in particular she professed a high +regard, because her husband had been his bartender, and as such had +earned money enough to bring his family from Europe, and also to pay +for the farm which had come to her at his death.</p> + +<p>Mother and son felt quite at home, and in humor to enjoy their +self-appointed stay of two weeks. Despite her restless eye and sinister +smile, she could be affable; and although, at first, I felt an +indescribable misgiving in her presence, it wore away, and I often +amused Johnnie while she and grandma talked.</p> + +<p>As if to hasten events, Mrs. Bergwald had sent for Georgia almost at +the beginning of the visit of the Steins; and after her departure, Mrs. +Stein insisted on helping me with the chores, and then on my sitting +with her during grandma's busiest hour.</p> + +<p>She seemed deeply interested in California's early history, and when I +would stop talking, she would ply me with questions. So I told her how +poor everybody was before the discovery of gold; how mothers would send +their boys to grandma's early morning fire for live coals, because they +had no matches or tinder boxes; how neighbors brought their coffee and +spices to grind in her mills; how the women gathered in the afternoons +under her great oak tree, to talk, sew, and eagerly listen to the +reading of extracts from letters and papers that had come from friends +away back in the States. I told her how, in case of sickness, one +neighbor would slip over and cook the family breakfast for the sick +woman, others would drop in later, wash the dishes, and put the house +in order; and so by turns and shares, the washing, ironing, and mending +would be done, and by the time the sick woman would be up and around, +she would have no neglected work to discourage her. Also we talked of +how flags were used for day signals and lights by night, in calls for +help.</p> + +<p>Our last talk was on Saturday morning between work. She questioned me +in regard to the amount, and location of the property of the Brunners, +then wanted to hear all about my sisters in Sacramento, and wondered +that we did not go to live with them. I explained that Elitha had +written us several times asking us to come, but, knowing that grandma +would be displeased, we had not read her those parts of the letters, +lest she forbid our correspondence entirely. I added that we were very +sorry that she could not like those who were dear to us.</p> + +<p>Finally, having exhausted information on several subjects, Mrs. Stein +gave me a searching glance, and after a marked silence, continued: "I +don't wonder that you love grandpa and grandma as much as you tell me, +and it is a pity about these other things that aren't pleasant. Don't +you think it would be better for you to live with your sister, and +grandma could have some real German children to live here? She is old, +and can't help liking her own kind of people best."</p> + +<p>I did not have an unkind thought in mind, yet I did confess that I +should like to live well and grow up to be like my mother. In +thoughtless chatter I continued, that more nice people came to visit +grandma and to talk with us before the town filled with strangers, and +before Americans lived in the good old Spanish houses, and before the +new churches and homes were built.</p> + +<p>She led me to speak of mother, then wondered at my vivid recollections, +since I had parted from her so young. She was very attentive as I told +how Georgia and I spoke of her when we were by ourselves, and that +friends did not let us forget her. I even cited a recent instance, when +the teacher had invited us, and two other young girls, to go to the +Vallejo pear orchard for all the fruit we wished to eat, and when he +offered the money in payment, the old Spanish gentleman in charge said, +"Pay for three."</p> + +<p>"But we are five," said the teacher.</p> + +<p>Then the Don blessed himself with the sign of the cross, and pointing +to Georgia and me, replied, "Those two are daughters of a sainted +mother, and are always welcome!"</p> + +<p>At noon grandma told me that she and the Steins would be ready to go +down town immediately after dinner, and that I must wash the dishes and +finish baking the bread in the round oven. We parted in best of humor, +and I went to work. The dishes and bread received first attention. Then +I scrubbed the brick floor in the milk-house; swept the store-room and +front yard; gathered the eggs, fed the chickens, and rebuilt the fire +for supper. I fancied grandma would be pleased with all I had +accomplished, and laughed to myself as I saw the three coming home +leaning close to each other in earnest conversation.</p> + +<p>To my surprise, the Steins went directly to their own room; and grandma +did not speak, but closed her eyes as she passed me. That was her way, +and I knew that it would be useless to ask what had offended her. So I +took my milk pails, and, wondering, went to the cow corrals. I could +not imagine what had happened, yet felt hurt and uncomfortable.</p> + +<p>Returning with the milk, I saw Johnnie playing by the tree, too near +the horse's feet, and warned him. As he moved, grandma stepped forward +and stood in front of me, her face white with rage. I set my buckets +down and standing between them listened as she said in German:</p> + +<p>"Oh, false one, thou didst not think this morning that I would so soon +find thee out. Thou wast not smart enough to see that my friend, Mrs. +Stein, was studying thee, so that she could let me know what kind of +children I had around me. And thou, like a snake in the grass, hast +been sticking out thy tongue behind my back. Thou pretendest that thou +art not staying here to get my money and property, yet thou couldst +tell her all I had. Thou wouldst not read all in the letters from thy +fine sisters? Thou wouldst rather stay here until I die and then be +rich and spend it with them!"</p> + +<p>She stopped as if to catch her breath, and I could only answer, +"Grandma, I have not done what thou sayest."</p> + +<p>She continued: "I have invited people to come here this night, and thou +shalt stand before them and listen while I tell what I have done for +thee, and how thou hast thanked me. Now, go, finish thy work, eat thy +supper, and come when I call thee."</p> + +<p>I heard her call, but don't know how I got into the room, nor before +how many I stood. I know that my head throbbed and my feet almost +refused to support my body, as I listened to grandma, who in forceful +language declared that she had taken me, a starveling, and reared me +until I was almost as tall as she herself; that she had loved and +trusted me, and taught me everything I knew, and that I had that day +blackened the home that had sheltered me, wounded the hand that had fed +me, and proved myself unworthy the love that had been showered upon +me. Mrs. Stein helped her through an account of our morning chat, +misconstruing all that had passed between us.</p> + +<p>I remained silent until the latter had announced that almost the first +thing that she had noticed was that we children were of a selfish, +jealous disposition, and that Georgia was very cross when her little +Johnnie came home wearing a hat that grandpa had bought him. Then I +turned upon her saying, "Mrs. Stein, you forget that Georgia has not +seen that hat. You know that grandma bought it after Georgia went +away."</p> + +<p>She sprang toward me, then turned to grandma, and asked if she was +going to let an underling insult a guest in her house.</p> + +<p>I did not wait for the reply. I fled out into the dark and made my way +to the weird old tree-trunk in the back yard. Thence, I could see the +lights from the windows, and at times hear the sound of voices. There, +I could stand in the starlight and look up to the heavens. I had been +there before, but never in such a heartsick and forlorn condition. I +was too overwrought to think, yet had to do something to ease the +tension. I moved around and looked toward Jakie's grave, then returned +to the side of the tree-trunk which had escaped the ravages of fire, +and ran my finger up and down, feeling the holes which the red-headed +woodpecker had bored and filled with acorns.</p> + +<p>A flutter in the air aroused me. It was the old white-faced owl leaving +the hollow in the live oak for the night's hunt. I faced about and saw +her mate fly after her. Then in the stillness that followed, I +stretched both arms toward heaven and cried aloud, "O God, I'm all +alone; take care of me!"</p> + +<p>The spell was broken. I grew calmer and began to think and to plan. I +pictured Georgia asleep in a pretty house two miles away, wondered how +I could get word to her and what she would say when told that we would +go away together from Sonoma, and not take anything that grandpa or +grandma had given us.</p> + +<p>I remembered that of the fund which we had started by hemming new, and +washing soiled handkerchiefs for the miners, there still remained in +her trunk seven dollars and eighty-five cents, and in mine seven +dollars and fifty cents. If this was not enough to take us to +Sacramento, we might get a chance as Sister Leanna had, to work our +way.</p> + +<p>I was still leaning against the tree-trunk when the moon began to peep +over the eastern mountains, and I vowed by its rising that before it +came up in its full, Georgia and I should be in Sacramento.</p> + +<p>I heard grandma's call from the door, which she opened and quickly +closed, and I knew by experience that I should find a lighted candle on +the table, and that no one would be in the room to say good-night. I +slept little, but when I arose in the morning I was no longer trouble +tossed. I knew what I would say to grandma if she should give me the +chance.</p> + +<p>Grandpa, who had come home very late, did not know what had happened, +and he and I breakfasted with the men, and grandma and the Steins came +after we left the room. No one offered to help me that morning, still I +got through my duties before grandma called me to her. She seemed more +hurt than angry, and began by saying:</p> + +<p>"On account of thy bad conduct, Mrs. Stein is going to shorten her +stay. She is going to leave on Tuesday, and wants me to go with her. +She says that she has kept back the worst things that thou hast told +about me, but will tell them to me on the road."</p> + +<p>Trembling with indignation, I exclaimed, "Oh, grandma, thou hast always +told us that it is wrong to speak of the faults of a guest in the +house, but what dost thou think of one who hath done what Mrs. Stein +hath done? I did say some of the things she told thee, but I did not +say them in that way. I didn't give them that meaning. I didn't utter +one unkind word against thee or grandpa. I have not been false to thee. +To prove it, I promise to stay and take care of everything while thou +goest and hearest what more she hath to tell, but after the +home-coming, I leave. Nothing that thou canst say will make me change +my mind. I am thankful for the home I have had, but will not be a +burden to thee longer. I came to thee poor, and I will go away poor."</p> + +<p>The Brunner conveyance was at the door on Tuesday morning when grandma +and her guest came out to begin their journey. Grandpa helped grandma +and the widow on to the back seat. While he was putting Johnnie in +front with the driver, I stepped close to the vehicle, and extended my +hand to grandma, saying, "Good-bye, don't worry about the dairy while +thou art gone, for everything will be attended to until thy return; but +remember—then I go."</p> + +<p>On the way back to the house grandpa asked why I did not treat the +widow more friendly, and I answered, "Because I don't believe in her." +To my surprise, he replied, "I don't either, but grandma is like a +little child in her hands."</p> + +<p>I felt that I ought to tell him I should soon go away, but I had never +gone to him with home troubles, and knew that it would not be right to +speak of them in grandma's absence; so he quietly went to his duties +and I to mine. Yet I could not help wondering how grandma could leave +me in full charge of her possessions if she believed the stories that +had been told her. I felt so sure that the guilty one would be found +out that it made me light-hearted.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Blake came and spent the night with me, and the following morning +helped to get the breakfast and talked over the cleaning that I wished +to do before grandma's return on the coming Saturday morning. But</p> + +<blockquote>God moves in a mysterious way<br> +His wonders to perform,</blockquote> + +<p>and unseen hands were shaping a different course for me! I had the milk +skimmed, and a long row of clean pans in the sunshine before time to +hurry the dinner for grandpa and the three men. I was tired, for I had +carried most of the milk to the pig troughs after having finished work +which grandma and I had always done together; so I sat down under the +tree to rest and meditate.</p> + +<p>My thoughts followed the travellers with many questions, and the wish +that I might hear what Mrs. Stein had to say. I might have overstayed +my time, if the flock of goats had not come up and smelled my hands, +nibbled at the hem of my apron, and tried to chew the cape of my +sun-bonnet. I sprang up and with a shout and clap of my hands, +scattered them, and entered the log kitchen, reclosing the lower +section of the divided door, to keep them from following me within.</p> + +<p>I prepared the dinner, and if it lacked the flavor of grandma's +cooking, those who ate it did not tell me. Grandpa lingered a moment to +bestow a meed of praise on my work, then went off to the back corral to +slaughter a beef for the shop. I began clearing the table, and was +turning from it with a vegetable dish in each hand when I caught sight +of the shadow of a tall silk hat in the open space above the closed +half door. Then the hat and its wearer appeared.</p> + +<p>Leaning over the edge of the door, he gazed at me standing there as if +I were nailed to the floor. I was speechless with amazement, and it +seemed a long while before he remarked lightly, "You don't seem to know +me."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you are Mr. Wilder, my brother-in-law," I stammered. "Where is +Elitha?"</p> + + +<a name="image-43"><!-- Image 43 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/043.jpg" height="300" width="515" +alt="SACRAMENTO CITY IN THE EARLY FIFTIES"> +</center> + +<h5>SACRAMENTO CITY IN THE EARLY FIFTIES</h5> + +<hr> + +<a name="image-44"><!-- Image 44 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/044.jpg" height="300" width="498" +alt="FRONT STREET, SACRAMENTO CITY, 1850"> +</center> + +<h5>FRONT STREET, SACRAMENTO CITY, 1850</h5> + +<hr> + +<p>He informed me that she and their little daughter were at the hotel +in town, where they had arrived about noon, and that she wanted Georgia +and me to be prompt in coming to her at four o'clock. I told him that +we could not do so, because Georgia was at Mrs. Bergwald's, grandma on +a journey beyond Bodego, and I at home in charge of the work.</p> + +<p>In surprise he listened, then asked, "But aren't you at all anxious to +see your sister and little niece?"</p> + +<p>Most earnestly, I replied that I was. Nevertheless, as grandma was +away, I could not leave the place until after the day's work was done. +Then I enumerated what was before me. He agreed that there was quite +enough to keep me busy, yet insisted that I ought to keep the +appointment for four o'clock. After his departure, I rushed out to +grandpa, told him who had come and gone, and what had passed between +us. He too, regretted the situation, but promised that I should spend +the evening at the hotel.</p> + +<p>I fairly flew about my work that afternoon, and my brain was as active +as my hands and feet. I was certain that brother and sister had come +for us, and the absorbing query was, "How did they happen to arrive at +this particular time?" I also feared there was more trouble before me, +and remembered my promise to grandma with twinges of regret.</p> + +<p>At half-past four, I was feeding the hens in the yard, and, looking up, +saw a strange carriage approaching. Instantly, I guessed who was in it, +and was at the gate before it stopped. Elitha greeted me kindly, but +not cordially. She asked why I had not come as requested, and then +said, "Go, bring the silver thimble Frances left here, and the coral +necklace I gave you."</p> + +<p>In my nervous haste I could not find the thimble, but carried out the +necklace. She next bade me take the seat beside her, thus disclosing +her intention of carrying me on, picking up Georgia and proceeding to +Sacramento. She was annoyed by my answer and disappointed in what she +termed my lack of pride. Calling my attention to my peculiar style of +dress and surroundings, to my stooped shoulders and callous hands, she +bade me think twice before I refused the comfortable home she had to +offer.</p> + +<p>When assured that I would gladly go on Saturday, but was unwilling to +leave in grandma's absence, she did not urge further, simply inquired +the way to Georgia, and left me.</p> + +<p>I was nursing my disappointment and watching the disappearing carriage, +when Mr. Knipp, the brewer, with his load of empty kegs drew up, and +asked what I was thinking about so hard. It was a relief to see his +jolly, good-natured face, and I told him briefly that our people were +in town and wished to take us home with them. He got down from his +wagon to say confidentially:</p> + +<p>"Thou must not leave grandpa and grandma, because the old man is always +kind to thee, and though she may sometimes wag a sharp tongue, she +means well. Be patient, by-and-by thou wilt have a nice property, the +country will have more people for hire, and thou wilt not have so hard +to work."</p> + +<p>When I told him that I did not want the property, and that there were +other things I did care for, he continued persuasively:</p> + +<p>"Women need not so much learning from books. Grandma would not know how +to scold so grandly if she remembered not so many fine words from +'Wilhelm Tell' and the other books that she knoweth by heart." And he +climbed back and drove off, believing that he had done me a good turn.</p> + +<p>To my great satisfaction, Georgia arrived about dark, saying that +Benjamin had brought her and would call for us later to spend the +evening with them. When we reached the hotel, Elitha received us +affectionately, and did not refer to the disappointments of the +afternoon. The time was given up to talk about plans for our future, +and that night when we two crept into bed, I felt that I had been eased +of a heavy burden, for Benjamin was willing to await grandma's return.</p> + +<p>He also told us that early next morning he would go to Santa Rosa, the +county seat, and apply to be made our guardian in place of Hiram +Miller, and would also satisfy any claim grandma might have to us, or +against us, adding that we need not take anything away with us, except +our keepsakes.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a><h2>CHAPTER XXXII</h2> + +<h4>GRANDMA'S RETURN—GOOD-BYE TO THE DUMB CREATURES—GEORGIA AND I ARE OFF +FOR SACRAMENTO.</h4> + +<p>Meanwhile, grandma and her friends had reached Bodego and spent the +night there. She had not learned anything more terrible that I had said +about her, and at breakfast told Mrs. Stein that she had had a dream +foreboding trouble, and would not continue the journey to the Stein +home. The widow coaxed and insisted that she go the few remaining miles +to see her children. Then she waxed indignant and let slip the fact +that she considered it an outrage that American, instead of European +born children should inherit the Brunner property, and that she had +hoped that grandma would select two of her daughters to fill the places +from which Georgia and I should be expelled.</p> + +<p>Grandma took a different view of the matter, and started homeward +immediately after breakfast.</p> + +<p>That very afternoon, on the Santa Rosa road, whom should she pass but +our brother Ben. They recognized each other, but were too astonished to +speak. Grandma ordered her driver to whip up, saying that she had just +seen the red-whiskered imp of darkness who had troubled her sleep, and +she must get to town as fast as possible.</p> + +<p>She stopped first at the butcher shop. Before grandpa could express +surprise at her unexpected return, she showered him with questions in +regard to happenings at home, and being informed, took him to task for +having permitted us to visit our people at the hotel. He innocently +remarked that he knew of no reason why we should not see our relatives; +that Georgia was spending the day with them; and that we both had his +permission to go again in the evening. In conclusion he said that I had +been a faithful, hard working little housekeeper, and she would find +everything in order at home.</p> + +<p>Grandma arrived at home before sunset, too excited to be interested in +dairy matters. She told me all about her trip, even to the name she had +called my brother-in-law, adding that she knew he was "not +red-whiskered, but he was next door to it." Later, when he came, she +did not receive him pleasantly, nor would she let us go to Elitha. +Brusquely, she demanded to know if I had written to him to come for us, +and would not believe him when he assured her that neither he nor our +sisters had received letter or message from us in months.</p> + +<p>After his departure, I could see that she was no longer angry, and I +dreaded the ensuing day, which was destined to be my last on that farm.</p> + +<p>It came with a rosy dawn, and I was up to meet it, and to say good-bye +to the many dumb creatures that I had cared for. The tension I was +under lent me strength to work faster than usual. When the breakfast +call sounded, I had finished in the corrals, and was busy in the hen +houses, having taken care to keep out of grandpa's sight; for I knew +how he would miss me, and I did not want to say the parting words. +After he and the men were gone, grandma came, and watched me finish my +task, then said kindly,</p> + +<p>"Come, Eliza, and eat thy breakfast."</p> + +<p>I looked up and replied,</p> + +<p>"Grandma, I ate my last meal in thy house last night. Dost thou not +remember, I told thee that I would take care of everything until thy +return, and then would not be a burden to thee longer? I have kept my +word, and am going away this morning."</p> + +<p>"Thou are mine, and canst not go; but if thou wilt not eat, come and +help me with the dishes," she replied nervously.</p> + +<p>I had planned to slip off and change my dress before meeting her, but +now, after a breath of hesitation, I went to dry the dishes, hoping +that our talk would soon be over. I knew it would be hard for both of +us, for dear, childish grandma was ready to forgive and forget what she +termed our little troubles. I, however, smarting under the wrong and +injustice that had been done me, felt she had nothing to forgive, and +that matters between us had reached the breaking-point.</p> + +<p>She was still insisting on her right to keep me, when a slight sound +caused us both to turn, and meeting Georgia's anxious, listening gaze, +grandma appealed to her, saying,</p> + +<p>"Thou hast heard thy sister's talk, but thou hast not been in this +fuss, and surely wilt not leave me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am going with Eliza," was the prompt answer, which had no +sooner left her lips, than grandma resorted to her last expedient: she +ordered us both to our room, and forbade us to leave it until she +should hear from grandpa.</p> + +<p>What message she sent him by the milker we never learned. Georgia, +being already dressed for the journey, and her trunk containing most of +her possessions being at Mrs. Bergwald's, had nothing to do but await +results.</p> + +<p>I quickly changed my working suit for a better one, which had been +given me by a German friend from San Francisco. Then I laid out my +treasured keepsakes. In my nervous energy, nothing was forgotten. I +took pains that my clothes against the wall should hang in straight +rows, that the folded ones should lie in neat piles in my pretty +Chinese trunk, and that the bunch of artificial flowers which I had +always kept for a top centre mark, should be exactly in the middle; +finally, that the gray gauze veil used as a fancy covering of the whole +should be smoothly tucked in around the clothing. This done, I gave a +parting glance at the dainty effect, dropped the cover, snapped the +queer little brass padlock in place, put the key on the table, and +covered the trunk so that its embossed figures of birds and flowers +should be protected from harm.</p> + +<p>We had not remembered to tell Elitha about the hundred dollars which +Jakie had willed us, so decided to let grandma keep it to cover some +of the expense we had been to her, also not to ask for our little +trinkets stored in her closet.</p> + +<p>With the bundle containing my keepsakes, I now sat down by Georgia and +listened with bated breath to the sound of grandma's approaching +footsteps. She entered and hastily began,</p> + +<p>"Grandpa says, if you want to go, and your people are here to take you, +we have no right to keep you; but that I am not to part with you bad +friends. So I came to shake hands and say good-bye. But I don't forgive +you for going away, and I never want to see you or hear from you +again!"</p> + +<p>She did not ask to see what we were taking away, nor did her good-bye +seem like parting.</p> + +<p>The fear that something might yet arise to prevent our reaching brother +and sister impelled us to run the greater part of the distance to the +hotel, and in less than an hour thereafter, we were in the carriage +with them on the way to Mrs. Bergwald's, prior to taking the road to +Sacramento.</p> + +<p>Off at last, without a soul in the town knowing it!</p> + +<p>Georgia, who had neither said nor done anything to anger grandma, was +easier in mind and more comfortable in body, than I, who, fasting, had +borne the trials of the morning. I could conceal the cause, but not the +faint and ill feeling which oppressed me during the morning drive and +continued until I had had something to eat at the wayside inn, and a +rest, while the horses were enjoying their nooning.</p> + +<p>I had also been too miserable to feel any interest in what occurred at +Mrs. Bergwald's after we stopped to let Georgia get her keepsakes. But +when the day's travel was over, and we were comfortably housed for the +night, Georgia and I left our brother and sister to their happy hour +with their child, and sat close together on the outer doorsteps to +review the events of the day. Our world during that solemn hour was +circumscribed, reaching back only to the busy scenes of the morning, +and forward to the little home that should open to us on the morrow.</p> + +<p>When we resumed travel, we did not follow the pioneers' trail, once +marked by hoof of deer, elk, and antelope, nor the winding way of the +Spanish <i>cabellero,</i> but took the short route which the eager tradesman +and miner had hewn and tramped into shape.</p> + +<p>On reaching the ferry across the Sacramento River, I gazed at the +surrounding country in silent amazement. Seven and a half years with +their marvellous influx of brawn and brain, and their output of gold, +had indeed changed every familiar scene, except the snow-capped +Sierras, wrapped in their misty cloak of autumnal blue. The broad, deep +river had given up both its crystal floods and the wild, free song +which had accompanied it to the sea, and become a turbid waterway, +encumbered with busy craft bringing daily supplies to countless homes, +and carrying afar the long hidden wealth of ages.</p> + +<p>The tule flat between the water front and Sutter's Fort had become a +bustling city. The streets running north and south were numbered from +first to twenty-eighth, and those east and west lettered from A to Z, +and thriving, light-hearted throngs were pursuing their various +occupations upon ground which had once seemed like a Noah's ark to me. +Yes, this was the very spot where with wondering eyes I had watched +nature's untamed herds winding through the reedy paths to the river +bank, to quench their morning and evening thirst.</p> + +<p>As we crossed from J Street to K, brother remarked, "Our journey will +end on this street; which of you girls will pick out the house before +we come to it?"</p> + +<p>Elitha would not help us, but smiled, when, after several guesses, I +said that I wished it to be a white house with brownish steps and a +dark door with a white knob. Hence, great was my satisfaction when near +the southeast corner of Eighteenth and K streets, we halted in front of +a cottage of that description; and it was regarded as a lucky omen for +me, that my first wish amid new scenes should be realized.</p> + +<p>The meeting with Sister Frances and the novelty of the new situation +kept up a pleasurable excitement until bed-time. Then in the stillness +of the night, in the darkness of the new chamber, came the recollection +that at about that hour one week ago, I, sorrowing and alone, had stood +by a weird old tree-trunk in Sonoma, and vowed by the rising moon that +before it should come up again in its full, Georgia and I would be in +<a name="IAnchorS1"></a><a href="#IndexS1">Sacramento</a>. I did not sleep until I had thanked the good Father for +sending help to me in my time of need.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII"></a><h2>CHAPTER XXXIII</h2> + +<h4>THE PUBLIC SCHOOLS OF SACRAMENTO—A GLIMPSE OF GRANDPA—THE RANCHO DE +LOS CAZADORES—MY SWEETEST PRIVILEGE—LETTERS FROM THE BRUNNERS.</h4> + +<p>It is needless to say that we were grateful for our new home, and tried +to express our appreciation in words and by sharing the household +duties, and by helping to make the neat clothing provided for us.</p> + +<p>The first Monday in October was a veritable red-letter day. Aglow with +bright anticipations, we hurried off to public school with Frances. Not +since our short attendance at the pioneer school in Sonoma had Georgia +and I been schoolmates, and never before had we three sisters started +out together with books in hand; nor did our expectations overreach the +sum of happiness which the day had in store for us.</p> + +<p>The supposition that grandpa and grandma had passed out of our lives +was soon disproved; for as I was crossing our back yard on the Saturday +of that first week of school, I happened to look toward Seventeenth +Street, and saw a string of wagons bringing exhibits from the fair +grounds. Beside the driver of a truck carrying a closed cage marked, +"Buffalo," stood grandpa. He had risen from his seat, leaned back +against the front of the cage, folded his arms and was looking at me. +My long black braids had been cut off, and my style of dress changed, +still he had recognized me. I fled into the house, and told Elitha what +I had seen. She, too, was somewhat disquieted, and replied musingly,</p> + +<p>"The old gentleman is lonely, and may have come to take you girls back +with him."</p> + +<p>His presence in Sacramento so soon after our reaching there did seem +significant, because he had bought that buffalo in 1851, before she was +weaned from the emigrant cow that had suckled and led her in from the +great buffalo range, and he had never before thought of exhibiting her.</p> + +<p>The following afternoon, as we were returning from Sunday school, a +hand suddenly reached out of the crowd on J Street and touched +Georgia's shoulder, then stopped me. A startled backward glance rested +on Castle, our old enemy, who said,</p> + +<p>"Come. Grandpa is in town, and wants to see you." We shook our heads. +Then he looked at Frances, saying, "All of you, come and see the large +seal and other things at the fair."</p> + +<p>But she replied, emphatically, "We have not permission," and grasping a +hand of each, hurried us homeward. For days thereafter, we were on the +alert guarding against what we feared might happen.</p> + +<a name="image-45"><!-- Image 45 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/045.jpg" height="418" width="300" +alt="Photographs by Lynwood Abbott. PINES OF THE SIERRAS"> +</center> + +<h5>Photographs by Lynwood Abbott. PINES OF THE SIERRAS</h5> + +<hr> + +<a name="image-46"><!-- Image 46 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/046.jpg" height="408" width="300" +alt="GENERAL JOHN A. SUTTER"> +</center> + +<h5>GENERAL JOHN A. SUTTER</h5> + +<hr> + +<a name="image-47"><!-- Image 47 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/047.jpg" height="431" width="300" +alt="COL. J.D. STEVENSON"> +</center> + +<h5>COL. J.D. STEVENSON</h5> + +<hr> + +<p>Our alarm over, life moved along smoothly. <a name="IAnchorD15"></a><a href="#IndexD15">Elitha</a> admonished us to +forget the past, and prepare for the future. She forbade Georgia and me +to use the German language in speaking with each other, giving as a +reason that we should take Frances into our confidence and thoughts as +closely as we took one another.</p> + +<p>I was never a morbid child, and the days that I did not find a sunbeam +in life, I was apt to hunt for a rainbow. But there, in sight of the +Sierras, the feeling again haunted me that perhaps my mother did not +die, but had strayed from the trail and later reached the settlement +and could not find us. Each middle-aged woman that I saw ahead of me on +the street would thrill me with expectation, and I would quicken my +steps in order to get a view of her face. When I gave up this illusion, +I still prayed that Keseberg would send for me some day, and let me +know her end, and give me a last message. I wanted his call to me to be +voluntary, so that I might know that his words were true. These hopes +and prayers were sacred, even from Georgia.</p> + +<p>On the twenty-fourth of March, 1856, brother Ben took us all to pioneer +quarters on Rancho de los Cazadores, where their growing interests +required the personal attention of the three brothers. There we became +familiar with the pleasures, and also the inconveniences and hardships +of life on a cattle ranch. We were twenty miles from town, church, and +school; ten miles from the post office; and close scrutiny far and wide +disclosed but one house in range. Our supply of books was meagre, and +for knowledge of current events, we relied on +<i><a name="IAnchorS2"></a><a href="#IndexS2">The Sacramento Union</a></i>, +and on the friends who came to enjoy the cattleman's hospitality.</p> + +<p>My sweetest privilege was an occasional visit to cousin <a name="IAnchorB10"></a><a href="#IndexB10">Frances Bond</a>, +my mother's niece, who, with her husband and child, had settled on a +farm about twelve miles from us. She also had grown up a motherless +girl, but had spent a part of her young ladyhood at our home in +Illinois. She had helped my mother to prepare for our long journey and +would have crossed the plains with us had her father granted her wish. +She was particularly fond of us "three little ones" whom she had +caressed in babyhood. She related many pleasing incidents connected +with those days, and spoke feelingly, yet guardedly, of our experiences +in the mountains. Like Elitha, she hoped we would forget them, and as +she watched me cheerfully adapting myself to new surroundings, she +imagined that time and circumstances were dimming the past from my +memory.</p> + +<p>She did not understand me. I was light-hearted because I was old enough +to appreciate the blessings that had come to me; old enough to look +ahead and see the pure, intelligent womanhood opening to me; and +trustful enough to believe that my expectations in life would be +realized. So I gathered counsel and comfort from the lips of that +sympathetic cousin, and loved her word pictures of the home where I was +born.</p> + +<p>Nor could change of circumstances wean my grateful thoughts from +Grandpa and Grandma Brunner. At times, I seemed to listen for the sound +of his voice, and to hear hers so near and clear that in the night, I +often started up out of sleep in answer to her dream calls. Finally I +determined to disregard her parting words, and write her. Georgia was +sure that I would get a severe answer, but Elitha's ready permission +made the letter easier to write. Weeks elapsed without a reply, and I +had about given up looking for it, when late in August, William, the +youngest Wilder brother, saddled his horse, and upon mounting, called +out,</p> + +<p>"I'm off to Sacramento, Eliza, to bring you that long-expected letter. +It was misdirected, and is advertised in +<i><a name="IAnchorS3"></a><a href="#IndexS3">The Sacramento Union's</a></i> list +of uncalled-for mail."</p> + +<p>He left me in a speculative mood, wondering if it was from grandma; +which of her many friends had written it for her; and if it was severe, +as predicted by Georgia. Great was my delight when the letter was +handed me, and I opened it and read:</p> + +<blockquote>SONOMA, <i>July 3, 1856</i><br> + +To Miss ELIZA P. DONNER:<br> +CASADOR RANCHO, COSUMNE RIVER<br> +NEAR SACRAMENTO CITY.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>DEAR ELIZA:</blockquote> + +<blockquote>Your letter of the fifteenth of June came duly to hand, giving me +great satisfaction in regard to your health, as well as keeping me +and grandfather in good memory.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>I have perused the contents of your letter with great interest. I am +glad to learn that you enjoy a country life. We have sold lately +twelve cows, and are milking fifteen at present. You want to know +how Flower is coming on: had you not better come and see for +yourself? Hard feelings or ill will we have none against you; and +why should I not forgive little troubles that are past and gone by?</blockquote> + +<blockquote>I know that you saw grandfather in Sacramento; he saw you and knew +you well too. Why did you not go and speak to him?</blockquote> + +<blockquote>The roses you planted on Jacob's grave are growing beautifully, and +our garden looks well. Grandfather and myself enjoy good health, and +we wish you the same for all time to come. We give you our love, and +remain,</blockquote> + +<blockquote>In parental affection,</blockquote> +<blockquote>MARY AND CHRISTIAN BRUNNER.</blockquote> +<blockquote>(Give our love also to Georgia.)</blockquote> + +<p>Georgia was as much gratified by the contents of the letter as I, and +we each sent an immediate answer, addressed to grandpa and grandma, +expressing our appreciation of their forgiving words, regret for +trouble and annoyances we had caused them, thanks for their past +kindness, and the hope that they would write to us again when +convenient. We referred to our contentment in our new home, and avoided +any words which they might construe as a wish to return.</p> + +<p>There was no long waiting for the second letter, nor mistake in +address. It was dated just three days prior to the first anniversary of +our leaving Sonoma, and here speaks for itself:</p> + +<blockquote>SONOMA, <i>Sept. 11, 1856</i></blockquote> +<blockquote>GEORGIA AND ELIZA DONNER.</blockquote> +<blockquote>MY DEAR CHILDREN:</blockquote> + +<blockquote>Your two letters dated August thirty-first reached us in due +season.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>We were glad to hear from you, and it is our wish that you do well. +Whenever you are disposed to come to us again our doors shall be +open to you, and we will rejoice to see you.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>We are glad to see that you acknowledge your errors, for it shows +good hearts, and the right kind of principles; for you should always +remember that in showing respect to old age you are doing yourself +honor, and those who know you will respect you. All your cows are +doing well.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>I am inclined to think that the last letter we wrote you, you did +not get. We mention this to show you that we always write to you.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>Your mother desires to know if you have forgotten the time when she +used to have you sleep with her, each in one arm, showing the great +love and care she had for you; she remembers, and can't forget.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>Your grandfather informs you that he still keeps the butcher shop, +and bar-room, and that scarcely a day passes without his thinking of +you. He still feels very bad that you did not, before going away, +come to him and say "Good-bye grandfather." He forgives you, +however, and hopes you will come and see him. When you get this +letter you must write.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>Yours affectionately,</blockquote> +<blockquote>CHRISTIAN BRUNNER,</blockquote> +<blockquote>MARY BRUNNER.</blockquote> + +<p>Letters following the foregoing assured us that grandma had become +fully satisfied that the stories told her by Mrs. Stein were untrue. +She freely acknowledged that she was miserable and forlorn without us, +and begged us to return to the love and trust which awaited us at our +old home. This, however, we could not do.</p> + +<p>Before the close of the Winter, Frances and Georgia began preparations +for boarding school in Sacramento, and I being promised like +opportunities for myself later, wrote all about them to grandma, +trusting that this course would convince her that we were permanently +separated from her, and that Elitha and her husband had definite plans +for our future. I received no response to this, but Georgia's first +communication from school contained the following paragraph:</p> + +<blockquote>I saw Sallie Keiberg last week, who told me that her mother had a +letter from the old lady (<a name="IAnchorB29"></a><a href="#IndexB29">Grandma Brunner</a>) five weeks ago. A man +brought it. And that the old lady had sent us by him some jewellery, +gold breast-pins, earrings, and wristlets. He stopped at the William +Tell Hotel. And that is all they know about him and the presents.</blockquote> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV"></a><h2>CHAPTER XXXIV</h2> + +<h4>TRAGEDY IN SONOMA—CHRISTIAN BRUNNER IN A PRISON CELL—ST. CATHERINE'S +CONVENT AT BENICIA—ROMANCE OF SPANISH CALIFORNIA—THE BEAUTIFUL ANGEL +IN BLACK—THE PRAYER OF DONA CONCEPCION ARGUELLO REALIZED—MONASTIC +BITES.</h4> + +<p>Time passed. Not a word had come to me from Sonoma in months, when +Benjamin handed me the <a name="IAnchorS6"></a><a href="#IndexS6"><i>Union</i></a>, and with horror I read the headlines to +which he pointed: "TRAGEDY IN SONOMA. <a name="IAnchorB24"></a><a href="#IndexB24">CHRISTIAN BRUNNER</a>, AN OLD +RESIDENT, SLAYS HIS OWN NEPHEW!"</p> + +<p>From the lurid details published, I learned that the Brunners had asked +this nephew to come to them, and had sent him money to defray his +expenses from Switzerland to California. Upon his arrival in Sonoma, he +had settled himself in the proffered home, and at once begun a life of +extravagance, at the expense of his relatives. He was repeatedly warned +against trifling with their affection, and wasting their hard-earned +riches. Then patience ceased, and he was forbidden the house of his +uncle.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, his aunt became seriously ill, and the young man visited her +secretly, and prevailed upon her to give him, in the event of her +death, certain cattle and other property which stood in her name. She, +however, recovered health; and he in the presence of his uncle, +insisted that she had given him the property outright, and he wanted +possession. This made trouble between the old couple, and the wife took +refuge with friends in San Francisco. The night after her departure, +the husband entered his own room and found the nephew in his bed. +Thoroughly enraged, he ordered him up and out of his sight, and was +insolently told by the young man that he was owner of that property and +in rightful possession of the same. At this, his uncle snatched his +pistol from the table at the bedside, and fired the fatal shot.</p> + +<p>This almost incredible news was so harrowing that I could scarcely +think of anything, except grandpa chained in a prison cell, grandma in +hiding away from home, and excited groups of people gathering about the +thoroughfares of Sonoma discussing the tragedy.</p> + +<p>I was not sorry that at this time an epidemic of measles broke out in +Sacramento, and Georgia became one of its early victims. This brought +both girls back to the ranch, and during Georgia's convalescence, we +had many serious talks about the Brunners' troubles. We wrote to +grandma, but received no answer, and could only wait to learn what +would be done with grandpa. He was arraigned and held; but the date set +for trial was not fixed before Benjamin took Frances and Georgia to +Benicia, to enter the September term of <a name="IAnchorS12"></a><a href="#IndexS12">St. Catherine's Convent School</a>.</p> + +<p>Upon Ben's return, I observed that he and Elitha were keeping from me +some mysterious but pleasurable secret. It came out a few days later +when Elitha began making a black and a white uniform which would fit no +one except me. When ready to try them on, she informed me that we would +have to sew early and late, that I might be ready to enter the convent +by the first of October, and thereby reap the benefit of the +institution's established custom—"That when more than two of a family +become pupils the same term, the third one shall be received free of +charge (except incidentals) with the understanding that the family thus +favored shall exert its influence toward bringing an additional pupil +into the school."</p> + +<p>Friends who had religious prejudices advised Ben against putting us +under Catholic influence, but he replied good-naturedly: "The school is +excellent, the girls are Protestants, and I am not afraid. Besides, I +have told them all the horrible and uncanny stories that I have heard +about convents, and they will not care to meddle with anything outside +of the prescribed course of study."</p> + +<p>He was twenty years older than I, and had such conservative and +dignified ways, that I often stood in awe of him. So when he let the +convent gate close behind us with a loud click and said, "Now, you are +a goner," I scanned his face apprehensively, but seeing nothing very +alarming, silently followed him through the massive door which was in +charge of a white-robed nun of the Dominican order.</p> + +<a name="image-48"><!-- Image 48 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/048.jpg" height="300" width="521" +alt="ST. CATHERINE'S CONVENT AT BENICIA, CALIFORNIA"> +</center> + +<h5>ST. CATHERINE'S CONVENT AT BENICIA, CALIFORNIA</h5> + +<hr> + +<a name="image-49"><!-- Image 49 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/049.jpg" height="300" width="514" +alt="CHAPEL, ST. CATHERINE'S CONVENT"> +</center> + +<h5>CHAPEL, ST. CATHERINE'S CONVENT</h5> + +<hr> + +<p>Presently Mother Mary Superior and my two sisters came to us in the +reception room and my brother deposited the fund for my school +incidentals, and after a brief conversation, departed. The preparations +in connection with my coming had been so rapidly carried out that I had +had little time in which to question or anticipate what my reception at +the convent might be. Now, however, Mother Mary, with open watch in +hand, stood before me, saying,</p> + +<p>"Your sister Georgia cried twice as long as expected when she came; +still I will allow you the regular five minutes."</p> + +<p>"I don't wish to cry," was my timid response.</p> + +<p>"But," she insisted, "you must shed a few entrance tears to—" Before +she finished her sentence, and without thinking that it would be +overreaching a stranger's privilege, I impulsively threw my arms around +her neck, laid my cheek against hers, and whispered, "Please don't make +me cry."</p> + +<p>She drew me closer to her, and her lips touched my forehead, and she +said, "No, child, you need not." Then she bade me go with my sisters +and become acquainted with my new surroundings.</p> + +<p>I was at once made to feel that I was welcome to every advantage and +privilege accorded to Frances and Georgia. The following Monday, soon +after breakfast, I slipped unobserved from the recreation room and made +my way to the children's dormitory, where Sister Mary Joseph was busily +engaged. I told her that I had come to help make beds and that I hoped +she would also let me wash or wipe the silverware used at the noon and +evening meals. She would not accept my services until she became +thoroughly satisfied that I had not offered them because I felt that I +was expected to do so, but because I earnestly desired to do whatever I +could in return for the educational and cultural advantages so freely +tendered me by the convent.</p> + +<p>By the end of the week I knew the way to parts of the buildings not +usually open to pupils. Up in the clothes room, I found Sister Mary +Frances, and on assuring her that I only wanted occupation for part of +my leisure time, she let me help her to sort and distribute the +clothing of the small girls, on Saturdays. Sister Rose let me come to +her in the kitchen an hour on Sundays, and other light tasks were +assigned me at my request.</p> + +<p>Then did I eat the bread of independence, take a wholesome interest in +my studies, and enjoy the friends I gained!</p> + +<p>My seat in the refectory was between my sister Georgia and Miss +Cayitana Payñe, a wealthy Spanish girl. Near neighbors were the two +Estudillo sisters, who were prouder of their Castilian lineage than of +the princely estate which they had inherited through it. To them I was +in a measure indebted for pleasing conversation at table. My abundant +glossy black hair and brunette type had first attracted their +attention, and suggested the probability of Spanish blood in my veins. +After they had learned otherwise, those points of resemblance still +awoke in them an unobtrusive interest in my welfare. I became aware of +its depth one evening in the recreation room while Georgia was home +for a month on sick leave.</p> + +<p>I was near Miss Dolores Estudillo, and overheard her say quietly to her +sister, in Spanish, "Magdalena, see how care-free the young girl at my +side seems tonight. The far-away look so often in her eyes leads me to think +that our dear Lord has given her many crosses to bear. Her hands show +marks of hard work and her clothing is inexpensive, yet she appears of +good birth and when I can throw pleasure in her way, I mean to do it."</p> + +<p>Whereupon Miss Magdalena turned to me and asked, "Do you live in +Sacramento, Miss Donner?"</p> + +<p>"No, I live on a ranch twenty miles from the city."</p> + +<p>"Do your parents like it there?"</p> + +<p>"I have no parents, they died when I was four years old."</p> + +<p>She did not ask another question, nor did she know that I had caught +the note of sympathy in her apology as she turned away. From that time +on, she and her coterie of young friends showed me many delicate +attentions.</p> + +<p>While still a new pupil, I not infrequently met Sister Dominica resting +at the foot of the steps after her walk in the sunshine, and with a +gracious, "Thank you," she would permit me to assist her up the flight +of stairs leading to her apartment. Bowed by age, and wasted by +disease, she was patiently awaiting the final summons. I became deeply +interested in her before I learned that this wan bit of humanity was +the once winsome daughter of Commandante Arguello, and the heroine of +a pathetic romance of Spanish California's day.<a name="FNanchor17"></a><a href="#Footnote_17"><sup>[17]</sup></a></p> + +<p>The hero was Rezanoff, an officer of high repute, sent by Russia in +1806 to inspect its establishment at the port of Sitka, Alaska. Finding +the colony there in almost destitute condition, he had embarked on the +first voyage of a Russian vessel to the port of San Francisco, +California. There being no commercial treaty between the two ports, +Rezanoff made personal appeal for help to Governor Arrillago, and later +to Commandante Arguello. After many difficulties and delays, he +succeeded in obtaining the sorely needed supplies.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, the young officer frequently met in her father's house the +vivacious <a name="IAnchorA5"></a><a href="#IndexA5">Doña Concepcion Arguello</a>, and Cupid soon joined their hearts +with an immortal chain.</p> + +<p>After their betrothal, Rezanoff hastened back to the destitute colony +with supplies. Then he sped on toward St. Petersburg, buoyant with a +lover's hope of obtaining his sovereign's sanction to his marriage, and +perhaps an appointment to Spain, which would enable him to give his +bride a distinguished position in the country of her proud ancestors. +Alas, death overtook the lover <i>en route</i> across the snows of Siberia.</p> + +<p>When <a name="IAnchorA6"></a><a href="#IndexA6">Doña Concepcion</a> learned of her bereavement, her lamentations were +tearless, her sorrow inconsolable. She turned from social duties and +honors, and, clad in mourning weeds, devoted her time and means to the +poor and the afflicted, among whom she became known and idolized as +"the beautiful angel in black." After the death of her parents, she +endowed St. Catherine's Convent with her inheritance, took the vows of +the Dominican nun, and the world saw her no more.</p> + +<p>Early in her sorrow, she had prayed that death might come to her in the +season when the snow lay deep on Siberia's plain; and her prayer was +realized, for it was on a bleak winter morning that we pupils gathered +in silence around the breakfast table, knowing that Sister Dominica lay +upon her bier in the chapel.</p> + +<p>The meal was nearly finished when Sister Amelda entered, and spoke to a +couple of the Spanish young ladies, who bowed and immediately withdrew. +As she came down the line selecting other Spanish friends of the dead, +she stopped beside me long enough to say:</p> + +<p>"You also may go to her. You comforted her in life, and it is fitting +that you should be among those who keep the last watch, and that your +prayers mingle with theirs."</p> + +<p>After her burial, which was consecrated by monastic rites, I returned +to the schoolroom with reverential memories of Sister Dominica, the +once "beautiful angel in black."</p> + +<p>The school year closed in July, 1858, and I left the convent with +regret. The gentle, self-sacrificing conduct of the nuns had destroyed +the effect of the prejudicial stories I had heard against conventual +life. The tender, ennobling influences which had surrounded me had +been more impressive than any I had experienced during orphanhood, and +I dreaded what the noisy world might again have in store for me.</p> + +<p>My sister <a name="IAnchorD18"></a><a href="#IndexD18">Frances</a> and William R. Wilder, who had been betrothed for +more than a year, and had kept their secret until we three returned +from the convent, were married November 24, 1858, and soon thereafter +moved to a pleasant home of their own on a farm adjoining Rancho de los +Cazadores. The following January, Georgia and I entered public school +in Sacramento, where we spent a year and a half in earnest and arduous +study.</p> + +<a name="Footnote_17"></a><a href="#FNanchor17">[17]</a><div class=note> The subject of a poem by Bret Harte, and of a novel by +Mrs. Gertrude Atherton.</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXXV"></a><h2>CHAPTER XXXV</h2> + +<h4>THE CHAMBERLAIN FAMILY, COUSINS OF DANIEL WEBSTER—JEFFERSON GRAMMAR +SCHOOL—FURTHER CONFLICTING ACCOUNTS OF THE DONNER PARTY—PATERNAL +ANCESTRY—S.O. HOUGHTON—DEATH TAKES ONE OF THE SEVEN SURVIVING +DONNERS.</h4> + +<p>Our school home in Sacramento was with friends who not only encouraged +our desire for knowledge, but made the acquirement pleasant. The head +of the house was <a name="IAnchorC8"></a><a href="#IndexC8">Mr. William E. Chamberlain</a>, cashier of D.O. Mills's +bank. His wife, <a name="IAnchorC7"></a><a href="#IndexC7">Charlotte</a>, was a contributor to +<a name="IAnchorS5"></a><a href="#IndexS5"><i>The Sacramento Union</i></a> +and leading magazines. Their daughter, Miss Florence, taught in the +public schools; and their son, William E., Jr., was a high-school +student, preparing for Harvard.</p> + +<p>In addition to their superior personal attainments, Mr. and Mrs. +Chamberlain, each—for they were cousins—had the distinction of being +first cousins to +<a name="IAnchorW1"></a><a href="#IndexW1">Daniel Webster</a>, and this fact also served to bring to +their home guests of note and culture. Georgia and I were too closely +occupied with lessons to venture often beyond the school-girl precinct, +but the intellectual atmosphere which pervaded the house, and the books +to which we had access, were of inestimable advantage. Furthermore, the +tuition fees required of non-resident pupils entitled them to choice +of district, and we fortunately had selected +<a name="IAnchorS13"></a><a href="#IndexS13">Jefferson Grammar School</a>, +No. 4, in charge of <a name="IAnchorW5"></a><a href="#IndexW5">Mr. Henry A. White</a>, one of the ablest educators in +the city.</p> + +<p>Several resident families had also taken advantage of this privilege, +and elected to pay tuition and place their children under his +instruction, thus bringing together forty-nine energetic boys and girls +to whet each other's ambition and incite class rivalry. Among the +number were the five clever children of the +<a name="IAnchorR23"></a><a href="#IndexR23">Hon. Tod Robinson</a>; three +sons of +<a name="IAnchorR21"></a><a href="#IndexR21">Judge Robert Robinson</a>; +Colonel Zabriskie's pretty daughter +<a name="IAnchorZ1"></a><a href="#IndexZ1">Annie</a>; Banker Swift's stately +<a name="IAnchorS48"></a><a href="#IndexS48">Margaret</a>; General Redding's two sons; Dr. +Oatman's son <a name="IAnchorO2"></a><a href="#IndexO2">Eugene</a>; +beloved <a name="IAnchorU1"></a><a href="#IndexU1">Nelly Upton</a>, daughter of the editor of +<i><a name="IAnchorS4"></a><a href="#IndexS4">The Sacramento Union</a></i>; +<a name="IAnchorY1"></a><a href="#IndexY1">Daniel Yost</a>; +<a name="IAnchorT14"></a><a href="#IndexT14">Agnes Toll</a>, the sweet singer; and +<a name="IAnchorD2"></a><a href="#IndexD2">Eliza Denison</a>, my chum.</p> + +<p>At the end of the term, <i>The Daily Union</i> closed its account of the +public examination of Jefferson Grammar School with the following +statement: "Among Mr. White's pupils are two young ladies, survivors of +the terrible disaster which befell the emigration of 1846 among the +snows of the California mountains."</p> + +<p>Even this cursory reference was a matter of regret to Georgia and me. +We had entered school silent in regard to personal history, and did not +wish public attention turned toward ourselves even in an indirect way, +fearing it might lead to a revival of the false and sensational +accounts of the past, and we were not prepared to correct them, nor +willing they should be spread. Pursued by these fears, we returned to +the ranch, where Elitha and her three black-eyed little daughters +welcomed our home-coming and brightened our vacation.</p> + +<p>Almost coincident, however, with the foregoing circumstance, Georgia +came into possession of +<a name="IAnchorW3"></a><a href="#IndexW3">"What I Saw in California,"</a> +by <a name="IAnchorB34"></a><a href="#IndexB34">Edwin Bryant</a>; +and we found that the book did contain many facts in connection with +our party's disaster, but they were so interwoven with wild rumors, and +the false and sensational statements quoted from <a name="IAnchorC4"></a><a href="#IndexC4"><i>The California Star</i></a>, +that they proved nothing, yet gave to the untrue that appearance of +truth which is so difficult to correct.</p> + +<p>The language employed in description seemed to us so coarse and brutal +that we could not forgive its injustice to the living, and to the +memory of the dead. We could but feel that had simple facts been +stated, there would have been no harrowing criticism on account of long +unburied corpses found in the lake cabins. Nor would the sight of +mutilated dead have suggested that the starving survivors had become +"gloating cannibals, preying on the bodies of their companions." Bare +facts would have shown that the living had become too emaciated, too +weak, to dig graves, or to lift or drag the dead up the narrow snow +steps, even had open graves awaited their coming. Aye, more, would have +shown conclusively that mutilation of the bodies of those who had +perished was never from choice, never cannibalistic, but dire +necessity's last resort to ease torturing hunger, to prevent loss of +reason, to save life. Loss of reason was more dreaded than death by +the starving protectors of the helpless.</p> + +<p>Fair statements would also have shown that the First Relief reached the +camps with insufficient provision to meet the pressing needs of the +unfortunate. Consequently, it felt the urgency of haste to get as many +refugees as possible to Bear Valley before storms should gather and +delays defeat the purpose of its coming; that it divided what it could +conscientiously spare among those whom it was obliged to leave, cut +wood for the fires, and endeavored to give encouragement and hope to +the desponding, but did not remain long enough to remove or bury the +dead.</p> + +<p>Each succeeding party actuated by like anxieties and precautions, +departed with its charges, leaving pitiable destitution behind; leaving +mournful conditions in camp,—conditions attributable as much to the +work of time and atmospheric agencies as to the deplorable expedients +to which the starving were again and again reduced.</p> + +<p>With trembling hand Georgia turned the pages, from the sickening +details of the <i>Star</i><a name="FNanchor18"></a><a href="#Footnote_18"><sup>[18]</sup></a> +to the personal observations of <a name="IAnchorB35"></a><a href="#IndexB35">Edwin Bryant</a>, +who in returning to the United States in the Summer of 1847, crossed +the Sierra Nevadas with General Kearney and escort, reached the lake +cabins June 22, and wrote as follows:</p> + +<blockquote>A halt was called for the purpose of interring the remains. Near the +principal lake cabin I saw two bodies entire, except the abdomens +had been cut open and entrails extracted. Their flesh had been +either wasted by famine or evaporated by exposure to dry +atmosphere, and presented the appearance of mummies. Strewn around +the cabins were dislocated and broken skulls (in some instances +sawed asunder with care for the purpose of extracting the brains). +Human skeletons, in short, in every variety of mutilation. A more +appalling spectacle I never witnessed. The remains were, by order of +General Kearney, collected and buried under supervision of Major +Sword. They were interred in a pit dug in the centre of one of the +cabins for a cache. These melancholy duties to the dead being +performed, the cabins, by order of Major Sword, were fired and, with +everything surrounding them connected with the horrible and +melancholy tragedy, consumed.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>The body of <a name="IAnchorD24"></a><a href="#IndexD24">(Captain) George Donner</a> +was found in his camp about +eight miles distant. He had been carefully laid out by his wife, and +a sheet was wrapped around the corpse. This sad office was probably +the last act she performed before visiting the camp of Keseberg. He +was buried by a party of men detailed for that purpose.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>I knew the Donners well; their means in money and merchandise which +they had brought with them were abundant. Mr. Donner was a man of +about sixty, and was at the time of leaving the United States a +highly respectable citizen of Illinois, a farmer of independent +means. <a name="IAnchorD37"></a><a href="#IndexD37">Mrs. Donner</a> +was considerably younger than her husband, an +energetic woman of refined education.</blockquote> + +<p>After Georgia left me, I reopened the book, and pondered its +revelations, many of them new to us both; and most of them I marked for +later investigation.</p> + +<p>Bryant found no human bones at Donner's camp. His description of that +camp was all-important, proving that my father's body had not been +mutilated, but lay in his mountain hut three long months, sacred as +when left by my little mother, who had watched over him to the pitiful +end, had closed his eyes, folded his arms across his breast, and +wrapped the burial sheet about his precious form. There, too, was +proof of his last resting-place, just as had been told me in sight of +Jakie's grave, by the Cherokee woman in Sonoma.</p> + +<p>The book had also a copy of <a name="IAnchorM9"></a><a href="#IndexM9">Colonel McKinstrey's</a> +letter to the General +Relief Committee in San Francisco, reporting the return of the first +rescuers with refugees. In speaking of the destitution of the +unfortunates in camp, he used the following words sympathically:</p> + +<blockquote>When the party arrived at camp, it was obliged to guard the little +stock of provisions it had carried over the mountains on its back on +foot, for the relief of the poor beings, as they were in such a +starving condition that they would have immediately used up all the +little store. They even stole the buckskin strings from the party's +snowshoes and ate them.</blockquote> + +<p>I at once recognized this friendly paragraph as the one which had had +its kindness extracted, and been abbreviated and twisted into that +cruel taunt which I had heard in my childhood from the lips of +"Picayune Butler."</p> + +<p>A careful study of Bryant's work increased my desire to sift that of +Thornton, for I had been told that it not only contained the "Fallon +Diary," but lengthier extracts from the <i>Star</i>, and I wanted to compare +and analyze those details which had been published as +<a name="IAnchorT13"></a><a href="#IndexT13">"Thrilling Events in California History."</a> +I was unable to procure the book then, but +resolved to do so when opportunity should occur. Naturally, we who see +history made, are solicitous that it be accurately recorded, especially +when it vitally concerns those near to us.</p> + +<a name="image-50"><!-- Image 50 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/050.jpg" height="421" width="300" +alt="Photograph by Lynwood Abbott. THE CROSS AT DONNER LAKE"> +</center> + +<h5>Photograph by Lynwood Abbott. THE CROSS AT DONNER LAKE</h5> + +<hr> + +<p>Shortly before school reopened, Georgia and I spent the day with cousin +<a name="IAnchorB11"></a><a href="#IndexB11">Frances E. Bond</a>; and in relating to her various incidents of our life, +we spoke of the embarrassment we had felt in class the day that Mr. +White asked every pupil whose ancestors had fought in the war of the +American Revolution to rise, and Georgia and I were the only ones who +remained seated. My cousin regarded us a moment and then said:</p> + +<p>"Your Grandfather Eustis, although a widow's only son, and not yet +sixteen years of age, enlisted when the Revolutionary War began. He was +a sentinel at Old South Church, and finally, a prisoner aboard the +<i>Count d'Estang</i>."</p> + +<p>She would have stopped there, but we begged for all she knew about our +mother's people, so she continued, mingling advice with information:</p> + +<p>"I would rather that you should not know the difference between their +position in life and your own; yet, if you must know it, the Eustis and +the Wheelwright families, from whom you are descended, are among the +most substantial and influential of New England. Their reputation, +however, is not a prop for you to lean on. They are on the Atlantic +coast, you on the Pacific; so your future depends upon your own merit +and exertions."</p> + +<p>This revelation of lineage, nevertheless, was an added incentive to +strive for higher things; an inheritance more enduring than our little +tin box and black silk stockings which had belonged to mother.</p> + +<p>An almost indescribable joy was mine when, at a gathering of the +school children to do honor to the citizens who had inaugurated the +system of public instruction in Sacramento, I beheld on the platform +Captain John A. Sutter. Memories both painful and grateful were evoked. +It was he who had first sent food to the starving travellers in the +Sierra Nevada Mountains. It was he who had laid his hand on my head, +when a forlorn little waif at the Fort, tenderly saying, "Poor little +girl, I wish I could give back what you have lost!"</p> + +<p>To me, <a name="IAnchorS46"></a><a href="#IndexS46">Captain Sutter</a> had long been the embodiment of all that was good +and grand; and now I longed to touch his hand and whisper to him +gratitude too sacred for strangers' ears. But the opportunity was +withheld until riper years.</p> + +<p>During our last term at school, Georgia's health was so improved that +my life was more free of cares and aglow with fairer promises. Miss +<a name="IAnchorR20"></a><a href="#IndexR20">Kate Robinson</a> and I were rivals for school honors, and I studied as I +never had studied before, for in the history, physiology, and rhetoric +classes, she pressed me hard. At the close of the session the record +showed a tie. Neither of us would accept determination by lot, and we +respectfully asked the Honorable Board of Education to withhold the +medal for that year.</p> + +<p>About this time Georgia and I enjoyed a rare surprise. On his return +from business one day, Mr. Chamberlain announced that a +distinguished-appearing young lawyer, +<a name="IAnchorH12"></a><a href="#IndexH12">S.O. Houghton</a> by name, had +stopped at the bank that afternoon, to learn our address and say that +he would call in the evening. We, knowing that he was the husband of +our "little cousin Mary," were anxious to meet him and to hear of her, +whom we had not seen since our journey across the snow. He came that +evening, and told us of the cozy home in San Jose to which he had taken +his young wife, and of her wish that we visit them the coming July or +August.</p> + +<p>Although letters had passed between us, up to this time we had known +little of Mary's girlhood life. After we parted, in 1847, she was +carried through to San Francisco, then called Yerba Buena, where her +maimed foot was successfully treated by the surgeon of the United +States ship <i>Portsmouth</i>. The citizens of that place purchased and +presented to her the one hundred <i>vara</i> lot Number 38, and the lot +adjoining to her brother George. <a name="IAnchorR5"></a><a href="#IndexR5">Mr. Reed</a> +was appointed her guardian +and given charge of her apportionment of funds realized from the sale +of goods brought from her father's tents. She became a member of the +Reed household in San Jose, and her life must have been cast in +pleasant lines, for she always spoke of Mr. and Mrs. Reed with filial +affection. Moreover, her brother had been industrious and prosperous, +and had contributed generously to her comfort and happiness.</p> + +<p>Some weeks later, we took +<a name="IAnchorH13"></a><a href="#IndexH13">Mr. Houghton's</a> report home to Elitha. We also +showed her a recent letter from Mary, sparkling with bright +anticipations—anticipations never to be realized; for we girls were +hardly settled on the ranch before a letter came from cousin George +Donner, dated Sacramento, June 20, 1860. From this we learned that he +had on that day been summoned to the bedside of his dying sister, and +had come from his home on Putah Creek as fast as horse could carry him, +yet had failed to catch the bay steamer; and while waiting for the next +boat, was writing to us who could best understand his state of mind.</p> + +<p>Next, a note from San Jose informed us that Mrs. Mary M. Houghton died +June 21, 1860, leaving a namesake, a daughter two weeks old, and that +her brother had reached there in time for the funeral.</p> + +<p>Of the seven Donners who had survived the disaster, she was the first +called by death, and we deeply mourned her loss, and grieved because +another little Mary was motherless. The following August, Mr. Houghton +made his first visit to Rancho de los Cazadores, and with fatherly +pride, showed the likeness of his little girl, and promised to keep us +all in touch with her by letter.</p> + +<p><a name="IAnchorH14"></a><a href="#IndexH14">Mr. Houghton</a> was closely identified with pioneer affairs, and we had +many friends in common, especially among officers and soldiers of the +<a name="IAnchorM14"></a><a href="#IndexM14">Mexican War</a>. He had enlisted in Company A of Stevenson's Regiment of +New York Volunteers when barely eighteen years of age; and sailed with +it from his native State on the twenty-sixth of September, 1846. After +an eventful voyage by way of Cape Horn, the good ship <i>Loo Choo</i>, which +bore him hither, cast anchor in the Bay of San Francisco, March 26, +1847, about the time the Third Relief was bringing us little girls +over the mountains. His company being part of the detachment ordered to +Mexico under Colonel Burton, he went at once into active service, was +promoted through intermediate grades, and appointed lieutenant, and +adjutant on the staff of Colonel Burton, before his twentieth year. +Following an honorable discharge at the close of the war, and a year's +exciting experiences in the gold fields, he settled in San Jose in +November, 1849, then the capital city. His knowledge of the Spanish and +French languages fitting him specially therefor, he turned his +attention to legislative and municipal matters. As clerk of the Senate +Judiciary Committee of the first session of the California Legislature, +he helped to formulate statutes for enactment, they being promulgated +in Spanish as well as English at that time. During the period between +1851 and 1860 he held several official positions, among them that of +president of the City Council; and on his twenty-fifth birthday he was +elected Mayor of San Jose. Meanwhile he had organized the Eagle Guard, +one of the first independent military companies in the State, and had +also been successively promoted from adjutant to ordnance officer, with +the rank of lieutenant-colonel, on Major-General Halleck's staff of the +State Militia. Moreover, he had completed the study of law in the +office of Judge W.T. Wallace, been admitted to the bar, and was now +actively engaged in the practice of his profession.</p> + +<a name="Footnote_18"></a><a href="#FNanchor18">[18]</a><div class=note> See Appendix for extract from <i>The California Star</i>.</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXXVI"></a><h2>CHAPTER XXXVI</h2> + +<h4>NEWS OF THE BRUNNERS—LETTERS FROM GRANDPA.</h4> + +<p>More than two years had elapsed since we had heard directly from +Sonoma, when, on the day before Thanksgiving, 1860, +<a name="IAnchorR22"></a><a href="#IndexR22">Judge Robert Robinson</a> +and wife, of Sacramento, came to the ranch, and he, in his +pleasing way, announced that he and Mrs. Robinson had a little story to +tell, and a message to deliver, which would explain why they had +arrived unexpectedly to spend the national holiday with us. Then +seating himself, he bowed to his wife, and listened in corroborative +silence while she related the following incident:</p> + +<p>"Last Summer when the Judge went on his circuit, he took the carriage, +and I accompanied him on his travels. One day we stopped for dinner at +the stage station between Sonoma and Santa Rosa. After we had +registered, the proprietor approached us, saying: 'I see you are from +Sacramento, and wonder if you know anything about a couple of young +girls by the name of Downie, who spent some time there in the public +school?' He seemed disappointed when we replied, 'We know Donners, but +not Downies.' 'Well,' he continued, 'they are strangers to me; but I am +interested in them on account of their former connection with an +unfortunate little old German woman who frequently comes in on the +stage that runs between Sonoma and Santa Rosa. She carries their +pictures in her hand-bag and tells a touching story about her happiness +when they lived with her.' Just then the stage stopped before the door, +and he, looking out, exclaimed, 'Why, she is among the passengers +to-day! With your permission, I'll bring her to you.'</p> + +<p>"He introduced her as Mrs. Brunner, told her where we were from, and +asked her to show us the picture of her little girls. After shaking +hands with us, she took the seat offered, and nervously drew from her +reticule a handsomely inlaid case, which she opened and handed to us. +An expression of pride and tenderness lighted her worn features as +Judge and I at once exclaimed, pointing to one and then the other, +'Why, this is Georgia, and this, Eliza Donner. We know them well and +call them "our girls" in Sacramento!'"</p> + +<p>"She sprang from her seat, and stood with one hand on Judge's shoulder, +and the other on mine, saying earnestly,</p> + +<p>"'Yes! You do know my children? Be they well, and doing well?'</p> + +<p>"We had to talk fast in order to answer all her questions, and a number +of listeners drew nearer and were considerably affected as the poor old +soul said, 'Please shake hands with me again for them, and tell them +that you talked with their old <a name="IAnchorB30"></a><a href="#IndexB30">Grandma Brunner</a>, that loves them now +just the same as when they was little.'</p> + +<p>"Judge and I assured her that we would deliver her messages in person, +as soon as we should get time to look you up. After dinner we saw her +reseated in the stage, and the black silk reticule containing the +picture was upon her lap as the stage carried her homeward."</p> + +<p>We learned from them further that grandpa had been convicted of +manslaughter and sentenced to San Quentin Prison for a term of eleven +years, and that grandma had been granted a divorce, and awarded all the +property, but was having great trouble because it had since become +involved and was being frittered away in litigation.</p> + +<p>The information given by the Robinsons increased our uneasiness for our +trouble-worn friends. Since the tragedy, Georgia and I had often spoken +of them to one another, but to no one else. We knew that few could +understand them as we did, and we refrained from exposing them to +unnecessary criticism. Anxious as we were to comfort them, it was not +in our power to do more than endeavor again to reach them by letter. +The first was despatched to grandma at Sonoma, the day after the +departure of our guests; and shortly before Christmas I posted one to +grandpa. The former was answered quickly, and so pathetically that +brother Ben offered to take us to Sonoma for a visit in the early +Spring and then to see what could be done for grandma.</p> + +<p>The letter to grandpa did not reach him until January 27, 1861, but his +reply left San Quentin by Wells-Fargo Express on the twenty-eighth of +January. It was a brave letter, closing with the following mystifying +paragraph:</p> + +<blockquote>Though I may be confined by prison walls, I wish those dear to me to +be happy and joyous as they can, and I trust in God to open a way +for me out of here, when I can see you all; which will make us all +very happy.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>Your affectionate grandfather,</blockquote> + +<blockquote><a name="IAnchorB25"></a><a href="#IndexB25">CHRISTIAN BRUNNER.</a></blockquote> + +<p>His next communication contained a thrilling surprise which cleared the +lurking mystery of his former letter, and expressed such joyous +appreciation of his regained privileges that I once more quote his own +words, from the letter yellowed by age, which lies before me.</p> + +<blockquote>SONOMA, <i>March 25, 1861</i></blockquote> + +<blockquote>DEAR ELIZA AND GEORGIA:</blockquote> + +<blockquote>Your kind and friendly letter reached me about ten days ago, and I +would have responded to the same right away, but waited a few days, +so that I could give you some good news, over which you, my dear +little girls, will surely rejoice, as you take so much interest in +everything which myself concerns. This news is that I am free again.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>Last Tuesday I received, through the influence of friends, from the +Governor of the State of California, a full pardon, and am again in +Sonoma; and as soon as I have my business affairs in such a way +settled that I can leave for a week or two, I will come up and see +you. I have much to tell you which you will better understand +through a personal interview than by writing.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>Yours friendly,</blockquote> + +<blockquote>C. BRUNNER</blockquote> + +<p>Georgia and I felt this news was almost too good to be true. We +wondered how soon he would come to see us; wondered also, if he and +grandma had met, and were glad that we had not taken the side of either +against the other.</p> + +<p>"What next?" was the pertinent question uppermost in our minds. We +found the answer in <i>The Sacramento Daily Union</i>, early in April, under +title of "Romance in Real Life." After a brief review of the troubles +of the Brunners, and reference to their divorcement, the article +announced their recent remarriage.</p> + +<p>This gratifying circumstance made our long intended trip to Sonoma +unnecessary, especially since the reunited couple seemed to have +retained the sympathy and loyalty of those who had known them in their +days of prosperity and usefulness.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXXVII"></a><h2>CHAPTER XXXVII</h2> + +<h4>ARRIVAL OF THE FIRST PONY EXPRESS.</h4> + +<p>I happened to be in Sacramento on the thirteenth day of April, 1861, +and found the city full of irrepressible excitement. Men on gayly +caparisoned horses galloping hither and thither, unfurled flags, and a +general air of expectancy on eager faces everywhere betokened an +occasion of rare moment. At times hats were swung aloft and cheers rang +out tumultuously, only to be hushed by the disappointing murmur, "Not +yet." But an instant's quiet, and there was a mad rush of the populace +toward Sutter's Fort; then again enthusiasm died, and the crowds ebbed +back up J Street, which, some eight or ten feet higher than any other +street in the city, extended straight as an arrow from the fort to +where the bay steamer lightly hugged the water front, puffing and +impatient to be off to San Francisco.</p> + +<p>So the anxious waiting continued until the day was well on to its +close, when suddenly, vociferous cheers again rent the air, and this +time knew no cessation. What a din! With leap and outcry, all faced +Sutter's Fort. That was a spectacle to be remembered.</p> + +<p>Pony! The pony, hurrah, hurrah! We see a dark speck in the distance. +It grows, as up J Street it comes. Now, the pony foams before us; now, +swift as the wind, it is gone. It passes reception committee, passes +escort. It reaches the water front; down the gang-plank it dashes; the +band plays, the whistle blows, the bell rings, the steamer catches the +middle of the stream and is off, leaving a trail of sparks and smoke in +the twilight, and bearing away the first +"<a name="IAnchorP5"></a><a href="#IndexP5">Pony Express</a>," memorable in +history.</p> + +<p>The baffling problem is solved; the dream of years is realized; +expeditious mail service with the East is an accomplished fact.</p> + +<p>No wonder the people cheered! It was a gigantic scheme, well conceived, +magnificently executed. Think of it, a stretch of two thousand miles of +mountain wild and desert plain covered in twelve days!</p> + +<p>How was it done? Horses were tested and riders selected by weight and +power of endurance. The latter were boys in years—<a name="IAnchorC15"></a><a href="#IndexC15">Bill Cody</a>, the +youngest, said to be only fourteen years of age. The pouch was light, +its contents were limited—but how gladly five dollars per letter was +paid for those precious missives.</p> + +<p>Every detail was carefully arranged. The first mount left St. Joseph, +Missouri, April 2; relay camps were established ten miles apart, with a +horse ever in readiness for instantaneous exchange, and a fresh rider, +mounted for the next run, was waiting at each successive hundred-mile +station along the entire route.</p> + +<p>Small wonder those pioneers were beside themselves with enthusiastic +excitement. The minds of many reverted to personal experiences with ox +team, or jogtrot of horses or mule train. Here was the Overland Stage +outdone; even the speed with which Monk Hanks brought Horace Greeley +over the mountains was at discount.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXXVIII"></a><h2>CHAPTER XXXVIII</h2> + +<h4>WAR AND RUMORS OF WAR—MARRIAGE—SONOMA REVISITED.</h4> + +<p>The Summer of 1861, now well advanced, was rife with <a name="IAnchorC10"></a><a href="#IndexC10">war</a> and rumors of +war, and foreshadowings of coming events. The old and the young were +flushed with patriotism, each eager to help his country's cause. I, +remembering grandma's training, was ready to give my services to +hospital work. Earnest as was this desire, however, I was dissuaded +from taking definite steps in that direction by those who knew that my +slender physique and girlish appearance would defeat my purpose before +the board of appointing physicians. Moreover, <a name="IAnchorH15"></a><a href="#IndexH15">Mr. Houghton's</a> visits and +frequent letters were changing my earlier plans for the future, and +finally led to my naming the tenth of October, 1861, as our wedding +day.</p> + +<p>The ceremony was solemnized by the <a name="IAnchorB3"></a><a href="#IndexB3">Rev. J.A. Benton</a>, of Sacramento. The +event is also noteworthy as being the occasion of the first reunion of +the five Donner sisters since their parting at Sutter's Fort in June, +1847. Georgia's place was by my side, while Elitha, Leanna, and Frances +each grouped with husband and children in front among friends, who had +come to witness the plighting of vows between my hero and me. Not +until I had donned my travelling suit, and my little white Swiss +wedding dress was being packed, did I fully realize that the days of +inseparable companionship between Georgia and me were past; She had +long been assured that in my new home a welcome would be ever ready for +her, yet she had thoughtfully answered, "No, I am not needed there, and +I feel that I am needed here."</p> + +<p>Nature's wedding gift to us was a week of glorious weather, and its +first five days we passed in San Francisco, the bustling, historic +city, which I knew so well, yet had never seen before. Then we boarded +the afternoon boat up the bay, expecting to spend the evening and +following morning in Sonoma with Grandpa and Grandma Brunner, but the +vessel failed to reach Lakeside Landing in time to connect with the +northbound coach. This mischance necessitated our staying overnight at +the only hostelry in the place.</p> + +<p>The cry, "All aboard for Sonoma!" hurried us from the table next +morning, and on reaching the sidewalk, we learned that the proprietor +of the hotel had bespoken the two best seats in the coach for us.</p> + +<p>I was too happy to talk until after we crossed the +<a name="IAnchorS29"></a><a href="#IndexS29">Sonoma River</a>, shaded +by grand old oak, sycamore, and laurel trees, and then onward, I was +too happy to remain silent. Before us lay the valley which brought back +memories of my childhood, and I was in a mood to recall only the +brightest, as we sped on to our destination. My companion shared my +delight and gave heed to each scene I called to his attention.</p> + +<p>The coach stopped in front of the hotel, and we alighted upon almost +the same spot from which I had climbed into the carriage to leave +Sonoma six years earlier. But, oh, how changed was everything! One +sweeping glance at the little town revealed the fact that it had passed +its romantic age and lost its quickening spirit. Closed were the homes +of the old Spanish families; gone were the <i>caballeros</i> and the +bright-eyed <i>señoritas</i>; grass-grown was the highway to the mines; the +flagstaff alone remained flushed with its old-time dignity and +importance. In subdued mood, I stepped into the parlor until our names +should be registered. When my husband returned, I said,</p> + +<p>"The carpet on this floor, the chairs in this room, and the pictures on +these walls were in place in grandma's home when I left her—perhaps +she is no longer living."</p> + +<p>He left me again to make inquiry concerning those whom we had come to +see, and ascertained that the Brunners had remarried for the purpose of +facilitating the readjustment of their property rights, and of rescuing +them from the hands of a scheming manager, who, with his family, was +now living on the estate, and caring for grandma, but would not permit +grandpa to enter the house.</p> + +<p>After sending a messenger to find grandpa, I led the way to the open +door of the old home, then slipped aside to let my husband seek +admission. He rapped.</p> + +<a name="image-51"><!-- Image 51 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/051.jpg" height="300" width="521" +alt="GENERAL VALLEJO'S CARRIAGE, BUILT IN ENGLAND IN 1832"> +</center> + +<h5>GENERAL VALLEJO'S CARRIAGE, BUILT IN ENGLAND IN 1832</h5> + +<hr> + +<a name="image-52"><!-- Image 52 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/052.jpg" height="300" width="479" +alt="GENERAL VALLEJO'S OLD JAIL"> +</center> + +<h5>GENERAL VALLEJO'S OLD JAIL</h5> + +<hr> + +<p>I heard a side door open, uneven footsteps in the hall, and him saying +quietly, "I think the old lady herself is coming, and you had better +meet her alone." I crossed the threshold, opened my arms, and uttered +the one word, "Grandma!"</p> + +<p>She came and rested her head against my bosom and I folded my arms +about her just as she had enfolded me when I went to her a lonely child +yearning for love. She stirred, then drew back, looked up into my face +and asked, "Who be you?"</p> + +<p>Touched by her wistful gaze, I exclaimed, "Grandma, don't you know me?"</p> + +<p>"Be you Eliza?" she asked, and when I had given answer, she turned from +me in deepest emotion, murmuring, "No, no, it can't be my little +Eliza!" She would have tottered away had I not supported her to a seat +in the well-remembered living room and caressed her until she looked up +through her tears, saying, "When you smile, you be my little Eliza, but +when you look serious, I don't know you."</p> + +<p>She inquired about Georgia, and how I came to be there without her. +Then she bade me call my husband, and thanked him for bringing me to +her. Forgetting all the faults and shortcomings that once had troubled +her sorely, she spoke of my busy childhood and the place I had won in +the affections of all who knew me.</p> + +<p>A tender impulse took her from us a moment. She returned, saying, "Now, +you must not feel bad when you see what I have in the hand behind me," +and drawing it forth continued, "This white lace veil which I bought at +Sutter's Fort when your mother's things were sold at auction, is to +cover my face when I am dead; and this picture of us three is to be +buried in the coffin with me. I want your husband to see how you looked +when you was little."</p> + +<p>She appeared proudly happy; but a flame of embarrassment burned my +cheeks, as she handed him the picture wherein I showed to such +disadvantage, with the question, "Now, doesn't she look lovely?" and +heard his affirmative reply.</p> + +<p>Upon the clock lay a broken toy which had been mine, and in childlike +ecstasy she spoke of it and of others which she had kept ever near her. +When invited to go to luncheon with us, she brought first her bonnet, +next her shawl, for me to hold while she should don her best apparel +for the occasion. Instead of going directly, she insisted on choosing +the longer road to town, that we might stop at Mrs. Lewis's to see if +she and her daughter Sallie would recognize me. Frequently as we walked +along, she hastened in advance, and then faced about on the road to +watch us draw near. When we reached Mrs. Lewis's door, she charged me +not to smile, and clapped her hands when both ladies appeared and +called me by name.</p> + +<p>As we were taking leave, an aged horseman drew rein at the gate and +dismounted, and Mrs. Lewis looking up, exclaimed, "Why, there is <a name="IAnchorB26"></a><a href="#IndexB26">Mr. +Brunner!"</a></p> + +<p>It did not take me long to meet him part way down the walk, nor did I +shrink from the caress he gave me, nor know how much joy and pain that +meeting evoked in him, even after he turned to Mr. Houghton saying +fervently, "Do not be angry because I kiss your wife and put my arms +around her, for she is my child come back to me. I helped raise her, +and we learned her to do all kinds of work, what is useful, and she was +my comfort child in my troubles."</p> + +<p>My husband's reply seemed to dispel the recollections which had made +the reunion distressing, and grandpa led his horse and walked and +talked with us until we reached the turn where he bade us leave him +while he disposed of Antelope preparatory to joining us at luncheon. +Proceeding, we observed an increasing crowd in front of the hotel, +massed together as if in waiting. As we drew nearer, a way was opened +for our passage, and friends and acquaintances stepped forth, shook +hands with me and desired to be introduced to my husband. It was +apparent that the message which we had sent to grandpa early in the +day, stating the hour we would be at the hotel, had spread among the +people, who were now assembled for the purpose of meeting us.</p> + +<p>Strangers also were among them, for I heard the whispered answer many +times, "Why, that is little Eliza Donner, who used to live with the +Brunners, and that is Mr. Houghton, her husband—they can only stay +until two o'clock." The hotel table, usually more than ample to +accommodate its guests, was not nearly large enough for all who +followed to the dining-room, so the smiling host placed another table +across the end for many who had intended to lunch at home that day.</p> + +<p>Meantime, our little party was seated, with Mr. Houghton at the head of +the table, I at his right; grandpa opposite me, and grandma at my +right. She was supremely happy, would fold her hands in her lap and +say, "If you please," and "Thank you," as I served her; and I was +grateful that she claimed my attention, for grandpa's lips were mute.</p> + +<p>He strove for calm, endeavoring to eat that he might the better conceal +the unbidden tears which coursed down his cheeks. Not until we reached +a secluded retreat for our farewell talk, did his emotion express +itself in words. Grasping my husband's hand he said:</p> + +<p>"My friend, I must leave you. I broke bread and tasted salt with you, +but I am too heartsick to visit, or to say good-bye. You bring back my +child, a bride, and I have no home to welcome her in, no wedding feast, +or happiness to offer. I must see and talk with her in the house of +strangers, and it makes me suffer more than I can bear! But before I +go, I want you both to make me the promise that you will always work +together, and have but one home, one purse, one wish in life, so that +when you be old, you will not have to walk separately like we do. You +will not have bitter thoughts and blame one another."</p> + +<p>Here grandma interrupted meekly, "I know I did wrong, but I did not +mean to, and I be sorry."</p> + +<p>The pause which followed our given promise afforded me the opportunity +to clasp their withered hands together between mine, and gain from +grandpa an earnest pledge that he would watch over and be kind to her, +who had married him when he was poor and in ill health; who had toiled +for him through the long years of his convalescence; who had been the +power behind the throne, his best aid and counsellor, until time had +turned her back in its tide, and made her a child again.</p> + +<p>My husband followed him from the room to bestow the sympathy and +encouragement which a strong man can give to a desponding one.</p> + +<p>When the carriage was announced, which would take us to Benicia in time +to catch the Sacramento steamer to San Francisco, I tied on grandma's +bonnet, pinned her shawl around her shoulders, and told her that we +would take her home before proceeding on our way, but she crossed her +hands in front and artlessly whispered:</p> + +<p>"No; I'd like to stay in town a while to talk with friends; but I thank +you just the same, and shall not forget that I am to go to you, after +you be settled in the new home, and his little daughter has learned to +call you 'mother.'"</p> + +<p>We left her standing on the hotel piazza, smiling and important among +the friends who had waited to see us off; but grandpa was nowhere in +sight.</p> + +<p>The steamer was at the landing when we reached Benicia so we hurriedly +embarked and found seats upon the deck overlooking the town. As the +moonlight glistened on the white spray which encircled our departing +boat, the sound of the Angelus came softly, sweetly, prayerfully over +the water; and I looking up and beyond, saw the glimmering lights of +Saint Catherine's Convent, fitting close to scenes of my childhood, its +silver-toned bells cheering my way to long life, honors, and many +blessings!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="APPENDIX"></a><h2>APPENDIX</h2> + +<blockquote>Though the mills of God grind slowly, yet they grind exceeding +small; Though with patience He stands waiting, with exactness grinds +He all.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>FRIEDRICH VON LOGAU.</blockquote> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="I"></a><h2>APPENDIX I</h2> + +<h4>ARTICLES PUBLISHED IN <i>The California Star</i>—STATISTICS OF THE +PARTY—NOTES OF AGUILLA GLOVER—EXTRACT FROM THORNTON—RECOLLECTIONS OF +JOHN BAPTISTE TRUBODE.</h4> + +<p>In honor to the State that cherishes the landmark; in justice to +history which is entitled to the truth; in sympathetic fellowship with +those who survived the disaster; and in reverent memory of those who +suffered and died in the snow-bound camps of the Sierra Nevadas, I +refute the charges of cruelty, selfishness, and inhumanity which have +been ascribed to the <a name="IAnchorD68"></a><a href="#IndexD68">Donner Party</a>.</p> + +<p>In this Appendix I set forth some of the unwarranted statements to +which frequent reference has been made in the foregoing pages, that +they may be examined and analyzed, and their utter unreliability +demonstrated by comparison with established facts and figures. These +latter data, for the sake of brevity, are in somewhat statistical form. +A few further incidents, which I did not learn of or understand until +long after they occurred, are also related.</p> + +<p>The accounts of weather conditions, of scarcity of food and fuel, also +the number of deaths in the camps before the first of March, 1847, are +verified by the carefully kept <a name="IAnchorD3"></a><a href="#IndexD3">"Diary of Patrick Breen, One of the +Donner Party,"</a>; which has recently been published by the +<a name="IAnchorA1"></a><a href="#IndexA1">Academy of Pacific Coast History</a></p> + +<p>The following article, which originally appeared in <i>The California +Star</i>, April 10, 1847, is here quoted from +"<a name="IAnchorL3"></a><a href="#IndexL3">The Life and Days of General John A. Sutter</a>," +by <a name="IAnchorS14"></a><a href="#IndexS14">T.J. Schoonover</a>:</p> + +<blockquote>A more shocking scene cannot be imagined than was witnessed by the +party of men who went to the relief of the unfortunate emigrants in +the California Mountains. The bones of those who had died and been +devoured by the miserable ones that still survived were around their +tents and cabins; bodies of men, women, and children with half the +flesh torn from them lay on every side. A woman sat by the side of +the body of her dead husband cutting out his tongue; the heart she +had already taken out, broiled, and eaten. The daughter was seen +eating the father; and the mother, that [<i>viz.</i> body] of her +children; children, that of father and mother. The emaciated, wild, +and ghastly appearance of the survivors added to the horror of it. +Language can not describe the awful change that a few weeks of dire +suffering had wrought in the minds of the wretched and pitiable +beings. Those who one month before would have shuddered and sickened +at the thought of eating human flesh, or of killing their companions +and relatives to preserve their own lives, now looked upon the +opportunity the acts afforded them of escaping the most dreadful of +deaths as providential interference in their behalf.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>Calculations were coldly made, as they sat around their gloomy camp +fires, for the next succeeding meals. Various expedients were +devised to prevent the dreadful crime of murder, but they finally +resolved to kill those who had least claims to longer existence. +Just at this moment some of them died, which afforded the rest +temporary relief. Some sank into the arms of death cursing God for +their miserable fate, while the last whisperings of others were +prayers and songs of praise to the Almighty. After the first few +deaths, but the one all-absorbing thought of individual +self-preservation prevailed. The fountains of natural affection +were dried up. The chords that once vibrated with connubial, +parental, and filial affection were torn asunder, and each one +seemed resolved, without regard to the fate of others, to escape +from impending calamity.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>So changed had the emigrants become that when the rescuing party +arrived with food, some of them cast it aside, and seemed to prefer +the putrid human flesh that still remained. The day before the party +arrived, one emigrant took the body of a child about four years of +age in bed with him and devoured the whole before morning; and the +next day he ate another about the same age, before noon.</blockquote> + +<p>This article, one of the most harrowing to be found in print, spread +through the early mining-camps, and has since been quoted by historians +and authors as an authentic account of scenes and conduct witnessed by +the first relief corps to Donner Lake. It has since furnished style and +suggestion for other nerve-racking stories on the subject, causing +keener mental suffering to those vitally concerned than words can tell. +Yet it is easily proved to be nothing more or less than a perniciously +sensational newspaper production, too utterly false, too cruelly +misleading, to merit credence. Evidently, it was written without +malice, but in ignorance, and by some warmly clad, well nourished +person, who did not know the humanizing effect of suffering and sorrow, +and who may not have talked with either a survivor or a rescuer of the +<a name="IAnchorD69"></a><a href="#IndexD69">Donner Party</a>.</p> + +<p>When the Donner Party ascended the Sierra Nevadas on the last day of +October, 1846, it comprised eighty-one souls; namely, Charles +Berger,<a name="FNanchor19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19"><sup>[19]</sup></a> Patrick Breen, Margaret Breen (his wife), John Breen, +Edward Breen, Patrick Breen, Jr., Simon Breen, James Breen, Peter +Breen, Isabella Breen, Jacob Donner,<a name="FNanchor19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19"><sup>[19]</sup></a> Elizabeth Donner<a name="FNanchor19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19"><sup>[19]</sup></a> (his +wife), William Hook,<a name="FNanchor20"></a><a href="#Footnote_20"><sup>[20]</sup></a> Solomon Hook, George Donner, Jr., Mary Donner, +Isaac Donner,<a name="FNanchor20"></a><a href="#Footnote_20"><sup>[20]</sup></a> Lewis Donner,<a name="FNanchor19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19"><sup>[19]</sup></a> Samuel Donner,<a name="FNanchor19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19"><sup>[19]</sup></a> George Donner, +Sr.,<a name="FNanchor19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19"><sup>[19]</sup></a> Tamsen Donner<a name="FNanchor19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19"><sup>[19]</sup></a> (his wife), Elitha Donner, Leanna C. Donner, +Frances Eustis Donner, Georgia Anna Donner, Eliza Poor Donner, Patrick +Dolan,<a name="FNanchor20"></a><a href="#Footnote_20"><sup>[20]</sup></a> John Denton,<a name="FNanchor20"></a><a href="#Footnote_20"><sup>[20]</sup></a> Milton Elliot,<a name="FNanchor19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19"><sup>[19]</sup></a> William Eddy, Eleanor +Eddy (his wife), Margaret Eddy,<a name="FNanchor19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19"><sup>[19]</sup></a> and James Eddy,<a name="FNanchor19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19"><sup>[19]</sup></a> Jay Fosdick<a name="FNanchor20"></a><a href="#Footnote_20"><sup>[20]</sup></a> +and Sarah Fosdick (his wife), William Foster, Sarah Foster (his wife) +and George Foster,<a name="FNanchor19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19"><sup>[19]</sup></a> Franklin W. Graves, Sr.,<a name="FNanchor20"></a><a href="#Footnote_20"><sup>[20]</sup></a> Elisabeth +Graves<a name="FNanchor20"></a><a href="#Footnote_20"><sup>[20]</sup></a> (his wife), Mary Graves, William C. Graves, Eleanor Graves, +Lovina Graves, Nancy Graves, Jonathan B. Graves, Franklin W. Graves, +Jr.,<a name="FNanchor20"></a><a href="#Footnote_20"><sup>[20]</sup></a> and Elizabeth Graves, Jr., Noah James, Lewis S. Keseberg, +Philippine Keseberg (his wife), Ada Keseberg<a name="FNanchor20"></a><a href="#Footnote_20"><sup>[20]</sup></a> and Lewis S. Keseberg, +Jr.,<a name="FNanchor19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19"><sup>[19]</sup></a> Mrs. Lovina Murphy<a name="FNanchor19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19"><sup>[19]</sup></a> (a widow), John Landrum Murphy,<a name="FNanchor19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19"><sup>[19]</sup></a> +Lemuel Murphy,<a name="FNanchor20"></a><a href="#Footnote_20"><sup>[20]</sup></a> Mary Murphy, William G. Murphy and Simon Murphy, +Mrs. Amanda McCutchen and Harriet McCutchen,<a name="FNanchor19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19"><sup>[19]</sup></a> Mrs. Harriet Pike +(widow), Nioma Pike and Catherine Pike,<a name="FNanchor19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19"><sup>[19]</sup></a> Mrs. Margaret Reed, +Virginia Reed, Martha J. Reed, James F. Reed, Jr., and Thomas K. Reed, +Joseph Rhinehart,<a name="FNanchor19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19"><sup>[19]</sup></a> Charles Stanton,<a name="FNanchor20"></a><a href="#Footnote_20"><sup>[20]</sup></a> John Baptiste Trubode, +August Spitzer,<a name="FNanchor19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19"><sup>[19]</sup></a> James Smith,<a name="FNanchor19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19"><sup>[19]</sup></a> Samuel Shoemaker, Bailis +Williams<a name="FNanchor19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19"><sup>[19]</sup></a> and Eliza Williams (his sister), Mrs. Woolfinger (widow), +Antonio (a Mexican) and Lewis and Salvador (the two Indians sent with +Stanton by General Sutter).</p> + +<p>Stated in brief, the result of the disaster to the party in the +mountains was as follows:</p> + +<p>The total number of deaths was thirty-six, as follows: fourteen in the +mountains while <i>en route</i> to the settlement; fourteen at camp near +Donner Lake; and eight at Donner's Camp.</p> + +<p>The total number who reached the settlement was forty-five; of whom +five were men, eight were women, and thirty-two were children.</p> + +<p>The family of James F. Reed and that of <a name="IAnchorB15"></a><a href="#IndexB15">Patrick Breen</a> survived in +unbroken numbers. The only other family in which all the children +reached the settlement was that of <a name="IAnchorD25"></a><a href="#IndexD25">Captain George Donner</a>.</p> + +<p>Fourteen of the eighty-one souls constituting the <a name="IAnchorD70"></a><a href="#IndexD70">Donner Party</a> were +boys and girls between the ages of nineteen and twelve years; +twenty-six ranged from twelve years to a year and a half; and seven +were nursing babes. There were only thirty-four adults,—twenty-two men +and twelve women.</p> + +<p>Of the first-named group, eleven survived the disaster. One youth died +<i>en route</i> with the Forlorn Hope; one at the Lake Camp; and one at Bear +Valley in charge of the First Relief.</p> + +<p>Twenty of the second-named group also reached the settlements. One died +<i>en route</i> with the First Relief; two at Donner's Camp (in March, +1847); two at Starved Camp, in charge of the Second Relief; and one at +the Lake Camp (in March).</p> + +<p>Two of the seven babes lived, and five perished at the Lake Camp. They +hungered and slowly perished after famine had dried the natural flow, +and infant lips had drawn blood from maternal breasts.</p> + +<p>The first nursling's life to ebb was that of Lewis Keseberg, Jr., on +January 24, 1847.<a name="FNanchor21"></a><a href="#Footnote_21"><sup>[21]</sup></a> His grief-stricken mother could not be comforted. +She hugged his wasted form to her heart and carried it far from camp, +where she dug a grave and buried it in the snow.</p> + +<p>Harriet McCutchen, whose mother had struggled on with the Forlorn Hope +in search of succor, breathed her last on the second of February, while +lying upon the lap of Mrs. Graves; and the snow being deep and hard +frozen, Mrs. Graves bade her son William make the necessary excavation +near the wall within their cabin, and they buried the body there, where +the mother should find it upon her return. Catherine Pike died in the +Murphy cabin a few hours before the arrival of food from the settlement +and was buried on the morning of February 22.<a name="FNanchor22"></a><a href="#Footnote_22"><sup>[22]</sup></a></p> + +<a name="image-53"><!-- Image 53 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/053.jpg" height="434" width="300" +alt="Photograph by Lynwood Abbott. ALDER CREEK"> +</center> + +<h5>Photograph by Lynwood Abbott. ALDER CREEK</h5> + +<hr> + +<a name="image-54"><!-- Image 54 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/054.jpg" height="300" width="525" +alt="DENNISON'S EXCHANGE AND THE PARKER HOUSE, SAN FRANCISCO"> +</center> + +<h5>DENNISON'S EXCHANGE AND THE PARKER HOUSE, SAN FRANCISCO</h5> + +<hr> + +<p>Those were the only babes that perished before relief came. Does not +the fact that so many young children survived the disaster refute the +charges of parental selfishness and inhumanity, and emphasize the +immeasurable self-sacrifice, love, and care that kept so many of the +little ones alive through that long, bitter siege of starvation?</p> + +<p>Mrs. Elinor Eddy, who passed away in the Murphy cabin on the seventh of +February, was the only wife and mother called by death, in either camp, +before the arrival of the First Relief. Both <a name="IAnchorB19"></a><a href="#IndexB19">Patrick Breen's diary</a> and +<a name="IAnchorM22"></a><a href="#IndexM22">William G. Murphy</a>, +then a lad of eleven years, assert that Mrs. Eddy +and little Margaret, her only daughter, were buried in the snow near +the Murphy cabin on the ninth of February. Furthermore, the Breen Diary +and the death-list of the Donner Party show that not a husband or +father died at the Lake Camp during the entire period of the party's +imprisonment in the mountains.<a name="FNanchor23"></a><a href="#Footnote_23"><sup>[23]</sup></a></p> + +<p>How, then, could that <a name="IAnchorR7"></a><a href="#IndexR7">First Relief</a>, +or either of the other relief +parties see—how could they even have imagined that they saw—"wife +sitting at the side of her husband who had just died, mutilating his +body," or "the daughter eating her father," or "mother that of her +children," or "children that of father and mother"? The same questions +might be asked regarding the other revolting scenes pictured by the +<i>Star</i>.</p> + +<p>The seven men who first braved the dangers of the icy trail in the work +of rescue came over a trackless, ragged waste of snow, varying from ten +to forty feet in depth,<a name="FNanchor24"></a><a href="#Footnote_24"><sup>[24]</sup></a> and approached the camp-site near the lake +at sunset. They halloed, and up the snow steps came those able to drag +themselves to the surface. When they descended into those cabins, they +found no cheering lights. Through the smoky atmosphere, they saw +smouldering fires, and faced conditions so appalling that words forsook +them; their very souls were racked with agonizing sympathy. There were +the famine-stricken and the perishing, almost as wasted and helpless as +those whose sufferings had ceased. Too weak to show rejoicing, they +could only beg with quivering lips and trembling hands, "Oh, give us +something to eat! Give us something to drink! We are starving!"</p> + +<p>True, their hands were grimy, their clothing tattered, and the floors +were bestrewn with hair from hides and bits of broken bullock bones; +but of connubial, parental, or filial inhumanity, there were no signs.</p> + +<p>With what deep emotion those seven heroic men contemplated the +conditions in camp may be gathered from +<a name="IAnchorG2"></a><a href="#IndexG2">Mr. Aguilla Glover's</a> own notes, +published in <a name="IAnchorT12"></a><a href="#IndexT12">Thornton's</a> work:</p> + +<blockquote>Feb. 19, 1847. The unhappy survivors were, in short, in a condition +most deplorable, and beyond power of language to describe, or +imagination to conceive.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>The emigrants had not yet commenced eating the dead. Many of the +sufferers had been living on bullock hides for weeks and even that +sort of food was so nearly exhausted that they were about to dig up +from the snow the bodies of their companions for the purpose of +prolonging their wretched lives.</blockquote> + +<p>Thornton's work contains the following statement by a member of one of +the relief corps:</p> + +<blockquote>On the morning of February 20,<a name="FNanchor25"></a><a href="#Footnote_25"><sup>[25]</sup></a> Racine Tucker, John Rhodes, and +Riley Moutrey went to the camp of <a name="IAnchorD26"></a><a href="#IndexD26">George Donner</a> eight miles distant, +taking a little jerked beef. These sufferers (eighteen) had but one +hide remaining. They had determined that upon consuming this they +would dig from the snow the bodies of those who had died from +starvation. Mr. Donner was helpless, <a name="IAnchorD38"></a><a href="#IndexD38">Mrs. Donner</a> was weak but in +good health, and might have come to the settlement with this party; +yet she solemnly but calmly determined to remain with her husband +and perform for him the last sad offices of affection and humanity. +And this she did in full view that she must necessarily perish by +remaining behind. The three men returned the same day with seven +refugees<a name="FNanchor26"></a><a href="#Footnote_26"><sup>[26]</sup></a> from Donner Camp.</blockquote> + +<p><a name="IAnchorT21"></a><a href="#IndexT21">John Baptiste Trubode</a> has distinct recollections of the arrival and +departure of Tucker's party, and of the amount of food left by it.</p> + +<p>He said to me in that connection:</p> + +<p>"To each of us who had to stay in camp, one of the First Relief Party +measured a teacupful of flour, two small biscuits, and thin pieces of +jerked beef, each piece as long as his first finger, and as many pieces +as he could encircle with that first finger and thumb brought together, +end to end. This was all that could be spared, and was to last until +the next party could reach us.</p> + +<p>"Our outlook was dreary and often hopeless. I don't know what I would +have done sometimes without the comforting talks and prayers of those +two women, your mother and Aunt Elizabeth. Then evenings after you +children went to sleep, <a name="IAnchorD39"></a><a href="#IndexD39">Mrs. George Donner</a> would read to me from the +book<a name="FNanchor27"></a><a href="#Footnote_27"><sup>[27]</sup></a> she wrote in every day. If that book had been saved, every one +would know the truth of what went on in camp, and not spread these +false tales.</p> + +<p>"I dug in the snow for the dead cattle, but found none, and we had to +go back to our saltless old bullock hide, days before the Second Relief +got to us, on the first of March."</p> + +<a name="Footnote_19"></a><a href="#FNanchor19">[19]</a><div class=note> Died while in the mountain camps.</div> + +<a name="Footnote_20"></a><a href="#FNanchor20">[20]</a><div class=note> Died <i>en route</i> over the mountains to the settlements in +California.</div> + +<a name="Footnote_21"></a><a href="#FNanchor21">[21]</a><div class=note> Report brought by John Baptiste to Donner's Camp, after +one of his trips to the lake.</div> + +<a name="Footnote_22"></a><a href="#FNanchor22">[22]</a><div class=note> Incident related by William C. Graves, after he reached +the settlement.</div> + +<a name="Footnote_23"></a><a href="#FNanchor23">[23]</a><div class=note> Franklin W. Graves and Jay Fosdick perished in December, +1846, while <i>en route</i> to the settlement with the Forlorn Hope.</div> + +<a name="Footnote_24"></a><a href="#FNanchor24">[24]</a><div class=note> One of the stumps near the Breen-Graves cabin, cut for +fuel while the snow was deepest, was found by actual measurement to be +twenty-two feet in height. It is still standing.</div> + +<a name="Footnote_25"></a><a href="#FNanchor25">[25]</a><div class=note> Thornton's dates are one day later than those in the +Breen Diary. Breen must have lost a day <i>en route</i>.</div> + +<a name="Footnote_26"></a><a href="#FNanchor26">[26]</a><div class=note> The First Relief Corps took six, instead of seven, +refugees from Donner Camp, and set out from the lake cabins with +twenty-three, instead of twenty-four, refugees.</div> + +<a name="Footnote_27"></a><a href="#FNanchor27">[27]</a><div class=note> The journal, herbarium, manuscript, and drawings of Mrs. +George Donner were not among the goods delivered at the Fort by the +Fallon Party, and no trace of them was ever found.</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="II"></a><h2>APPENDIX II</h2> + +<h4>THE REED-GREENWOOD PARTY, OR SECOND RELIEF—REMINISCENCES OF WILLIAM G. +MURPHY—CONCERNING NICHOLAS CLARK AND JOHN BAPTISTE.</h4> + +<p>On the third of March, 1847, the Reed-Greenwood, or <a name="IAnchorR10"></a><a href="#IndexR10">Second Relief</a> Corps +(excepting <a name="IAnchorC13"></a><a href="#IndexC13">Nicholas Clark</a>) left camp with the following refugees: +<a name="IAnchorB16"></a><a href="#IndexB16">Patrick Breen</a>, Margaret Breen (his wife), Patrick Breen, Jr., Simon +Breen, James Breen, Peter Breen, Isabella Breen, Solomon Hook, Mary +Donner, Isaac Donner, Mrs. Elizabeth Graves, Nancy Graves, Jonathan B. +Graves, Franklin W. Graves, Jr., Elizabeth Graves, Jr., Martha J. Reed, +and Thomas K. Reed. The whole party, as has been already told, were +forced into camp about ten miles below the summit on the west side of +the Sierras, by one of the fiercest snow-storms of the season.</p> + +<p>All credit is due Mr. and Mrs. Breen for keeping the nine helpless +waifs left with them at Starved Camp alive until food was brought them +by members of the Third Relief Party. Mr. Breen's much prized diary +does not cover the experiences of that little band in their struggle +across the mountains, but concludes two days before they started. After +he and his family succeeded in reaching the Sacramento Valley, he gave +his diary (kept at Donner Lake) to Colonel George McKinstrey for the +purpose of assisting him in making out his report to Captain Hall, +U.S.N., Sloop of War <i>Warren</i>, Commander Northern District of +California.</p> + +<p>James F. Reed of the Reed-Greenwood Party, the second to reach the +emigrants, has been adversely criticised from time to time, because he +and six of his men returned to Sutter's Fort in March with no more than +his own two children and Solomon Hook, a lad of twelve years, who had +said that he could and would walk, and did.</p> + +<p>Careful investigation, however, proves the criticism hasty and unfair. +True, Mr. Reed went over the mountains with the largest and best +equipped party sent out, ten well furnished, able-bodied men. But +returning he left one man at camp to assist the needy emigrants.</p> + +<p>The seventeen refugees whom he and nine companions brought over the +summit comprised three weak, wasted adults, and fourteen emaciated +young children. The prospect of getting them all to the settlement, +even under favorable circumstances, had seemed doubtful at the +beginning of the journey. Alas, one of the heaviest snow-storms of the +season overtook them on the bleak mountain-side ten miles from the tops +of the Sierra Nevadas. It continued many days. Food gave out, death +took toll. The combined efforts of the men could not do more than +provide fuel and keep the fires. All became exhausted. Rescuers and +refugees might have perished there together had the nine men not +followed what seemed their only alternative. Who would not have done +what Reed did? With almost superhuman effort, he saved his two +children. No one felt keener regret than he over the fact that he had +been obliged to abandon at Starved Camp the eleven refugees he had +heroically endeavored to save.</p> + +<p>In those days of affliction, it were well nigh impossible to say who +was most afflicted; still, it would seem that no greater destitution +and sorrow could have been meted to any one than fell to the lot of +Mrs. Murphy at the lake camp. The following incidents were related by +her son, William G. Murphy, in an address to a concourse of people +assembled on the shore of Donner Lake in February, 1896:</p> + +<blockquote>I was a little more than eleven years of age when we all reached +these mountains, and that one-roomed shanty was built, where so many +of us lived, ate, and slept. No!--Where so many of us slept, +starved, and died! It was constructed for my mother and seven +children (two being married) and her three grandchildren, and +William Foster, husband of her daughter Sarah.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>Early in December when the Forlorn Hope was planned, we were almost +out of provisions; and my mother took the babes from the arms of +Sarah and Harriet (Mrs. Pike) and told them that she would care for +their little ones, and they being young might with William (Foster) +and their brother Lemuel reach the settlement and return with food. +And the four became members of that hapless band of fifteen.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>Mr. Eddy being its leader, his wife and her two children came to +live with us during his absence. When my eldest brother, on whom my +mother depended, was very weak and almost at death's door, my mother +went to the Breens and begged a little meat, just a few mouthfuls—I +remember well that little piece of meat! My mother gave half of it +to my dying brother; he ate it, fell asleep with a hollow death +gurgle. When it ceased I went to him—he was dead—starved to death +in our presence. Although starving herself, my mother said that if +she had known that Landrum was going to die she would have given him +the balance of the meat. Little Margaret Eddy lingered until +February 4, and her mother until the seventh. Their bodies lay two +days and nights longer in the room with us before we could find +assistance able to bury them in the snow. Some days earlier Milton +Elliot, weak and wandering around, had taken up his abode with us. +We shared with him the remnant of our beef hides. We had had a lot +of that glue-making material. But mark, it would not sustain life. +Elliot soon starved to death, and neighbors removed and interred the +body in the snow beside others.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>Catherine Pike, my absent sister's baby, died on the eighteenth of +February, only a few hours before the arrival of the First Relief. +Thus the inmates of our shanty had been reduced to my mother, my +sister Mary, brother Simon, Nioma Pike, Georgie Foster, myself, and +little Jimmy Eddy.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>When the rescuers decided they would carry out Nioma Pike, and that +my sister Mary and I should follow, stepping in the tracks made by +those who had snowshoes, strength seemed to come, so that I was able +to cut and carry to my mother's shanty what appeared to me a huge +pile of wood. It was green, but it was all I could get.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>We left mother there with three helpless little ones to feed on +almost nothing, yet in the hope that she might keep them alive until +the arrival of the next relief.</blockquote> + +<p>Many of the survivors remember that after having again eaten food +seasoned with salt, the boiled, saltless hides produced nausea and +could not be retained by adult or child.</p> + +<p>I say with deep reverence that flesh of the dead was used to sustain +the living in more than one cabin near the lake. But it was not used +until after the pittance of food left by the First Relief had long been +consumed; not until after the wolves had dug the snow from the graves. +Perhaps God sent the wolves to show Mrs. Murphy and also Mrs. Graves +where to get sustenance for their dependent little ones.</p> + +<p>Both were widows; the one had three, and the other four helpless +children to save. Was it culpable, or cannibalistic to seek and use the +only life-saving means left them? Were the acts and purposes of their +unsteady hands and aching hearts less tender, less humane than those of +the lauded surgeons of to-day, who infuse human blood from living +bodies into the arteries of those whom naught else can save, or who +strip skin from bodies that feel pain, to cover wounds which would +otherwise prove fatal?</p> + +<p><a name="IAnchorT22"></a><a href="#IndexT22">John Baptiste Trubode</a> and <a name="IAnchorC14"></a><a href="#IndexC14">Nicholas Clark</a>, of the Second Relief, were +the last men who saw my father alive. In August, 1883, the latter came +to my home in San Jose.</p> + +<p>This was our second meeting since that memorable morning of March 2, +1847, when he went in pursuit of the wounded mother bear, and was left +behind by the relief party. We spoke long and earnestly of our +experience in the mountains, and he wished me to deny the statement +frequently made that, "Clark carried a pack of plunder and a heavy +shotgun from Donner's Camp and left a child there to die." This I can +do positively, for when the Third Relief Party took Simon Murphy and us +"three little Donner girls" from the mountain camp, not a living being +remained, except Mrs. Murphy and <a name="IAnchorK6"></a><a href="#IndexK6">Keseberg</a> at the lake camp, and my +father and mother at Donner's Camp. All were helpless except my mother.</p> + +<p>The Spring following my interview with Nicholas Clark, +<a name="IAnchorT23"></a><a href="#IndexT23">John Baptiste</a> +came to San Jose, and Mr. McCutchen brought him to talk with me. John, +always a picturesque character, had become a hop picker in hop season, +and a fisherman the rest of the year. He could not restrain the tears +which coursed down his bronzed cheeks as he spoke of the destitution +and suffering in the snow-bound camps; of the young unmarried men who +had been so light-hearted on the plains and brave when first they faced +the snows. His voice trembled as he told how often they had tried to +break through the great barriers, and failed; hunted, and found +nothing; fished, and caught nothing; and when rations dwindled to +strips of beef hide, their strength waned, and death found them ready +victims. He declared,</p> + +<blockquote>The hair and bones found around the Donner fires were those of +cattle. No human flesh was used by either Donner family. This I +know, for I was there all winter and helped get all the wood and +food we had, after starvation threatened us. I was about sixteen +years old at the time. Our four men died early in December and were +buried in excavations in the side of the mountain. Their bodies were +never disturbed. As the snows deepened to ten and twelve feet, we +lost track of their location.</blockquote> + +<p>When saying good-bye, he looked at me wistfully and exclaimed: "Oh, +little Eliza, sister mine, how I suffered and worked to help keep you +alive. Do you think there was ever colder, stronger winds than them +that whistled and howled around our camp in the Sierras?"</p> + +<p>He returned the next day, and in his quaint, earnest way expressed +keenest regret that he and Clark had not remained longer in camp with +my father and mother.</p> + +<p>"I did not feel it so much at first; but after I got married and had +children of my own, I often fished and cried, as I thought of what I +done, for if we two men had stayed, perhaps we might have saved that +little woman."</p> + +<p>His careworn features lightened as I bade him grieve no more, for I +realized that he was but a boy, overburdened with a man's +responsibilities, and had done his best, and that nobly. Then I added +what I have always believed, that no one was to blame for the +misfortunes which overtook us in the mountains. The dangers and +difficulties encountered by reason of taking the Hastings Cut-off had +all been surmounted—two weeks more and we should have reached our +destination in safety. Then came the snow! Who could foresee that it +would come earlier, fall deeper, and linger longer, that season than +for thirty years before? Everything that a party could do to save +itself was done by the <a name="IAnchorD71"></a><a href="#IndexD71">Donner Party</a>; and certainly everything that a +generous, sympathizing people could do to save the snow-bound was done +by the people of California.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="III"></a><h2>APPENDIX III</h2> + +<h4>THE REPORT OF THOMAS FALLON—DEDUCTIONS—STATEMENT OF EDWIN +BRYANT—PECULIAR CIRCUMSTANCES.</h4> + +<p>The following is the report of <a name="IAnchorF2"></a><a href="#IndexF2">Thomas Fallon</a>, leader of the fourth +party to the camps near Donner Lake:</p> + +<blockquote>Left Johnson's on the evening of April 13, and arrived at the lower +end of Bear River Valley on the fifteenth. Hung our saddles upon +trees, and sent the horses back, to be returned again in ten days to +bring us in again. Started on foot, with provisions for ten days and +travelled to head of the valley, and camped for the night; snow from +two to three feet deep. Started early in the morning of April 15 and +travelled twenty-three miles. Snow ten feet deep.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>April 17. Reached the cabins between twelve and one o'clock. +Expected to find some of the sufferers alive. <a name="IAnchorD40"></a><a href="#IndexD40">Mrs. Donner</a> and +Keseberg<a name="FNanchor28"></a><a href="#Footnote_28"><sup>[28]</sup></a> in particular. Entered the cabins, and a horrible scene +presented itself. Human bodies terribly mutilated, legs, arms, and +skulls scattered in every direction. One body supposed to be that of +Mrs. Eddy lay near the entrance, the limbs severed off, and a +frightful gash in the skull. The flesh was nearly consumed from the +bones, and a painful stillness pervaded the place. The supposition +was, that all were dead, when a sudden shout revived our hopes, and +we flew in the direction of the sound. Three Indians who had been +hitherto concealed, started from the ground, fled at our approach, +leaving behind their bows and arrows. We delayed two hours in +searching the cabins, during which we were obliged to witness sights +from which we would have fain turned away, and which are too +dreadful to put on record. We next started for Donner's camp, +eight miles distant over the mountains. After travelling about +half-way, we came upon a track in the snow which excited our +suspicion, and we determined to pursue. It brought us to the camp of +<a name="IAnchorD51"></a><a href="#IndexD51">Jacob Donner</a>, where it had evidently left that morning. There we +found property of every description, books, calicoes, tea, coffee, +shoes, percussion caps, household and kitchen furniture, scattered +in every direction, and mostly in water. At the mouth of the tent +stood a large iron kettle, filled with human flesh cut up. It was +from the body of <a name="IAnchorD27"></a><a href="#IndexD27">George Donner</a>. The head had been split open, and +the brain extracted therefrom; and to the appearance he had not been +long dead—not over three or four days, at most. Near-by the kettle +stood a chair, and thereupon three legs of a bullock that had been +shot down in the early part of winter, and snowed upon before it +could be dressed. The meat was found sound and good, and with the +exception of a small piece out of the shoulder, whole, untouched. We +gathered up some property, and camped for the night.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>April 18. Commenced gathering the most valuable property, suitable +for our packs; the greater portion had to be dried. We then made +them up, and camped for the night.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>April 19. This morning Foster, Rhodes, and J. Foster started, with +small packs, for the first cabins, intending from thence to follow +the trail of the person that had left the morning previous. The +other three remained behind to cache and secure the goods +necessarily left there. Knowing the Donners had a considerable sum +of money we searched diligently but were unsuccessful. The party for +the cabins were unable to keep the trail of the mysterious +personage, owing to the rapid melting of the snow; they therefore +went directly to the cabins and upon entering discovered Keseberg +lying down amid the human bones, and beside him a large pan full of +fresh liver and lights. They asked him what had become of his +companions; whether they were alive, and what had become of +<a name="IAnchorD41"></a><a href="#IndexD41">Mrs. Donner</a>. +He answered them by stating that they were all dead. Mrs. +Donner, he said, had, in attempting to cross from one cabin to +another, missed the trail and slept out one night; that she came to +his camp the next night very much fatigued. He made her a cup of +coffee, placed her in bed, and rolled her well in the blankets; but +next morning she was dead. He ate her body and found her flesh the +best he had ever tasted. He further stated that he obtained from her +body at least four pounds of fat. No trace of her body was found, +nor of the body of Mrs. Murphy either. When the last company left +the camp, three weeks previous, Mrs. Donner was in perfect health, +though unwilling to leave her husband there, and offered $500.00 to +any person or persons who would come out and bring them in, saying +this in the presence of Keseberg, and that she had plenty of tea and +coffee. We suspected that it was she who had taken the piece from +the shoulder of beef on the chair before mentioned. In the cabin +with Keseberg were found two kettles of human blood, in all, +supposed to be over two gallons. Rhodes asked him where he had got +the blood. He answered, "There is blood in dead bodies." They asked +him numerous questions, but he appeared embarrassed, and equivocated +a great deal; and in reply to their asking him where Mrs. Donner's +money was, he evinced confusion, and answered that he knew nothing +about it, that she must have cached it before she died. "I haven't +it," said he, "nor money nor property of any person, living or +dead." They then examined his bundle, and found silks and jewellery, +which had been taken from the camp of Donners, amounting in value to +about $200.00. On his person they discovered a brace of pistols +recognized to be those of <a name="IAnchorD28"></a><a href="#IndexD28">George Donner</a>; and while taking them from +him, discovered something concealed in his waistcoat, which on being +opened was found to be $225.00 in gold.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>Before leaving the settlement, the wife of Keseberg had told us that +we would find but little money about him; the men therefore said to +him that they knew he was lying to them, and that he was well aware +of the place of concealment of the Donners' money. He declared +before Heaven he knew nothing concerning it, and that he had not the +property of any one in his possession. They told him that to lie to +them would effect nothing; that there were others back at the cabins +who unless informed of the spot where the treasure was hidden would +not hesitate to hang him upon the first tree. Their threats were of +no avail. He still affirmed his ignorance and innocence. Rhodes took +him aside and talked to him kindly, telling him that if he would +give the information desired, he should receive from their hands +the best of treatment, and be in every way assisted; otherwise, the +party back at Donner's Camp would, upon arrival, and his refusal to +discover to them the place where he had deposited this money, +immediately put him to death. It was all to no purpose, however, and +they prepared to return to us, leaving him in charge of the packs, +and assuring him of their determination to visit him in the morning; +and that he must make up his mind during the night. They started +back and joined us at Donner's Camp.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>April 20. We all started for Bear River Valley, with packs of one +hundred pounds each; our provisions being nearly consumed, we were +obliged to make haste away. Came within a few hundred yards of the +cabins and halted to prepare breakfast, after which we proceeded to +the cabin. I now asked Keseberg if he was willing to disclose to me +where he had concealed that money. He turned somewhat pale and again +protested his innocence. I said to him, "Keseberg, you know well +where Donner's money is, and damn you, you shall tell me! I am not +going to multiply words with you or say but little about it. Bring +me that rope!" He then arose from his hot soup and human flesh, and +begged me not to harm him; he had not the money nor goods; the silk +clothing and money which were found upon him the previous day and +which he then declared belonged to his wife, he now said were the +property of others in California. I told him I did not wish to hear +more from him, unless he at once informed us where he had concealed +the money of those orphan children; then producing the rope I +approached him. He became frightened, but I bent the rope around his +neck and as I tightened the cord, and choked him, he cried out that +he would confess all upon release. I then permitted him to arise. He +still seemed inclined to be obstinate and made much delay in +talking. Finally, but without evident reluctance, he led the way +back to Donner's Camp, about ten miles distant, accompanied by +Rhodes and Tucker. While they were absent we moved all our packs +over the lower end of the lake, and made all ready for a start when +they should return. Mr. Foster went down to the cabin of Mrs. +Murphy, his mother-in-law, to see if any property remained there +worth collecting and securing; he found the body of young Murphy who +had been dead about three months with his breast and skull cut +open, and the brains, liver, and lights taken out; and this +accounted for the contents of the pan which stood beside Keseberg +when he was found. It appeared that he had left at the other camp +the dead bullock and horse, and on visiting this camp and finding +the body thawed out, took therefrom the brains, liver, and lights.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>Tucker and Rhodes came back the next morning, bringing $273.00 that +had been cached by Keseberg, who after disclosing to them the spot, +returned to the cabin. The money had been hidden directly underneath +the projecting limb of a large tree, the end of which seemed to +point precisely to the treasure buried in the earth. On their return +and passing the cabin, they saw the unfortunate man within devouring +the remaining brains and liver left from his morning repast. They +hurried him away, but before leaving, he gathered together the bones +and heaped them all in a box he used for the purpose, blessed them +and the cabin and said, "I hope God will forgive me what I have +done. I could not help it; and I hope I may get to heaven yet!" We +asked Keseberg why he did not use the meat of the bullock and horse +instead of human flesh. He replied he had not seen them. We then +told him we knew better, and asked him why the meat on the chair had +not been consumed. He said, "Oh, it is too dry eating; the liver and +lights were a great deal better, and brains made good soup!" We then +moved on and camped by the lake for the night.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>April 21. Started for Bear River Valley this morning. Found the snow +from six to eight feet deep; camped at Yuma River for the night. On +the twenty-second travelled down Yuma about eighteen miles, and +camped at the head of Bear River Valley. On the twenty-fifth moved +down to lower end of the valley, met our horses, and came in.</blockquote> + +<p>The account by Fallon regarding the fate of the last of the Donners in +their mountain camp was the same as that which Elitha and Leanna had +heard and had endeavored to keep from us little ones at Sutter's Fort.</p> + +<a name="image-55"><!-- Image 55 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/055.jpg" height="513" width="300" +alt="VIEW IN THE GROUNDS OF THE HOUGHTON HOME IN SAN JOSE"> +</center> + +<h5>VIEW IN THE GROUNDS OF THE HOUGHTON HOME IN SAN JOSE</h5> + +<hr> + +<a name="image-56"><!-- Image 56 --></a> +<center> +<img src="images/056.jpg" height="300" width="518" +alt="THE HOUGHTON RESIDENCE IN SAN JOSE, CALIFORNIA"> +</center> + +<h5>THE HOUGHTON RESIDENCE IN SAN JOSE, CALIFORNIA</h5> + +<hr> + +<p>It is self-evident, however, that the author of those statements did +not contemplate that reliable parties +<a name="FNanchor29"></a><a href="#Footnote_29"><sup>[29]</sup></a> would see the Donner camps +before prowling beasts, or time and elements, had destroyed all proof +of his own and his party's wanton falsity.</p> + +<p>It is also plain that the Fallon Party did not set out expecting to +find any one alive in the mountains, otherwise would it not have taken +more provisions than just enough to sustain its own men ten days? Would +it not have ordered more horses to meet it at the lower end of Bear +Valley for the return trip? Had it planned to find and succor survivors +would it have taken it for granted that all had perished, simply +because there was no one in the lake cabins, and would it have delayed +two precious hours in searching the lake camp for valuables before +proceeding to Donner's Camp?</p> + +<p>Had the desire to rescue been uppermost in mind, would not the sight of +human foot-tracks on the snow half way between the two camps have +excited hope, instead of "suspicion," and prompted some of the party to +pursue the lone wanderer with kindly intent? Does not each succeeding +day's entry in that journal disclose the party's forgetfulness of its +declared mission to the mountains? Can any palliating excuse be urged +why those men did not share with Keseberg the food they had brought, +instead of permitting him to continue that which famine had forced upon +him, and which later they so righteously condemned?</p> + +<p>Is there a single strain of humanity, pathos, or reverence in that +diary, save that reflected from Keseberg's last act before being +hurried away from that desolate cabin? Or could there be a falser, +crueler, or more heartless account brought to bereaved children than +Fallon's purported description of the father's body found in Donner's +Camp?</p> + +<p>Here is the statement of <a name="IAnchorB36"></a><a href="#IndexB36">Edwin Bryant</a>, who with General Kearney and +escort, <i>en route</i> to the United States, halted at the deserted cabins +on June 22, 1847, and wrote:</p> + +<blockquote>The body of <a name="IAnchorD29"></a><a href="#IndexD29">(Captain) George Donner</a> was found in his own camp about +eight miles distant. He had been carefully laid out by his wife, and +a sheet was wrapped around the corpse. This sad office was probably +the last act she performed before visiting the camp of Keseberg.<a name="FNanchor30"></a><a href="#Footnote_30"><sup>[30]</sup></a></blockquote> + +<p>After considering what had been published by <a name="IAnchorC5"></a><a href="#IndexC5"><i>The California Star</i></a>, by +Bryant, Thornton, Mrs. Farnham, and others, I could not but realize +Keseberg's peculiarly helpless situation. Without a chance to speak in +his own defence, he had been charged, tried, and adjudged guilty by his +accusers; and an excited people had accepted the verdict without +question. Later, at Captain Sutter's suggestion, Keseberg brought +action for slander against Captain Fallon and party. The case was tried +before Alcalde Sinclair,<a name="FNanchor31"></a><a href="#Footnote_31"><sup>[31]</sup></a> and the jury gave Keseberg a verdict of +one dollar damages. This verdict, however, was not given wide +circulation, and prejudice remained unchecked. There were other +peculiar circumstances connected with this much accused man which were +worthy of consideration, notably the following: If, as reported, +Keseberg was in condition to walk to the settlement, why did the First +Relief permit him to remain in camp consuming rations that might have +saved others?</p> + +<p>Messrs. Reed and McCutchen of the Second Relief knew the man on the +plains, and had they regarded him as able to travel, or a menace to +life in camp, would they have left him there to prey on women and +little children, like a wolf in the fold?</p> + +<p>Messrs. Eddy and Foster of the Third Relief had travelled with him on +the plains, starved with him in camp, and had had opportunities of +talking with him upon their return to the cabins too late to rescue +Jimmy Eddy and Georgia Foster. Had they believed that he had murdered +the children, would those two fathers and the rest of their party have +taken Simon Murphy and the three little Donner girls and left Keseberg +<i>alive</i> in camp with lone, sick, and helpless Mrs. Murphy—Mrs. Murphy +who was grandmother of Georgia Foster, and had sole charge of Jimmy +Eddy?</p> + +<a name="Footnote_28"></a><a href="#FNanchor28">[28]</a><div class=note> Should be spelled Keseberg.</div> + +<a name="Footnote_29"></a><a href="#FNanchor29">[29]</a><div class=note> General Kearney and escort, accompanied by <a name="IAnchorB37"></a><a href="#IndexB37">Edwin Bryant.</a></div> + +<a name="Footnote_30"></a><a href="#FNanchor30">[30]</a><div class=note> McGlashan's "History of the Donner Party" (1879).</div> + +<a name="Footnote_31"></a><a href="#FNanchor31">[31]</a><div class=note> The old Alcalde records are not in existence, but some of +the survivors of the party remember the circumstance; and Mrs. Samuel +Kybert, now of Clarkville, Eldorado County, was a witness at the trial. +C.F. McGlashan, 1879.</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="IV"></a><h2>APPENDIX IV</h2> + +<h4>LEWIS KESEBERG</h4> + +<p>In March, 1879, while collecting material for his "History of the +Donner Party," <a name="IAnchorM8"></a><a href="#IndexM8">Mr. C.F. McGlashan</a>, of Truckee, California, visited +survivors at San Jose, and coming to me, said:</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Houghton, I am sorry that I must look to you and your sisters for +answers to the most delicate and trying questions relating to this +history. I refer to the death of your mother at the hand of <a name="IAnchorK7"></a><a href="#IndexK7">Keseberg</a>."</p> + +<p>He was so surprised and shocked as I replied, "I do not believe that +Keseberg was responsible for my mother's death," that he interrupted +me, lost for a moment the manner of the impartial historian, and with +the directness of a cross-questioning attorney asked:</p> + +<p>"Is it possible that <a name="IAnchorD42"></a><a href="#IndexD42">Mrs. George Donner's</a> +daughter defends the murderer +of her mother?"</p> + +<p>And when I replied, "We have no proofs. My mother's body was never +found," he continued earnestly,</p> + +<p>"Why, I have enough evidence in this note book to convict that monster, +and I can do it, or at least arouse such public sentiment against him +that he will have to leave the State."</p> + +<p>Very closely he followed my answering words, "Mr. McGlashan, from +little girlhood I have prayed that Lewis Keseberg some day would send +for me and tell me of my mother's last hours, and perhaps give a last +message left for her children, and I firmly believe that my prayer will +be granted, and I would not like you to destroy my opportunity. You +have a ready pen, but it will not be used in exact justice to all the +survivors, as you have promised, if you finish your work without giving +Keseberg also a chance to speak for himself."</p> + +<p>After a moment's reflection, he replied, "I am amazed; but your wish in +this matter shall be respected."</p> + +<p>The following evening he wrote from San Francisco:</p> + +<blockquote>You will be glad to know that I have put Harry N. Morse's detective +agency of Oakland upon the track of Keseberg, and if found, I mean +to take steps to obtain his confession.</blockquote> + +<p>In less than a week after the foregoing, came a note from him which +tells its own story.</p> + +<blockquote>SACRAMENTO, <i>Midnight, April 4, 1879</i></blockquote> +<blockquote>MRS. E.P. HOUGHTON,</blockquote> +<blockquote>DEAR MADAM:—</blockquote> + +<blockquote>Late as it is, I feel that I ought to tell you that I have spent the +evening with Keseberg. I have just got back, and return early +to-morrow to complete my interview. By merest accident, while +tracing, as I supposed, the record of his death, I found a clue to +his whereabouts. After dark I drove six miles and found him. At +first he declined to tell me anything, but somehow I melted the mood +with which he seemed enwrapped, and he talked freely.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>He swears to me that he did not murder your mother. He declares it +so earnestly that I cannot doubt his veracity. To-morrow I intend +plying him closely with questions, and by a rigid system of cross +examination will detect the false-hood, if there is one, in his +statement. He gives chapter after chapter that others never knew. I +cannot say more to-night, but desire that you write me (at the +Cosmopolitan) any questions you might wish me to ask Keseberg, and +if I have not already asked them, I will do so on my return from San +Francisco.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>C.F. MCGLASHAN.</blockquote> + +<p>After his second interview with Keseberg and in response to my urgent +appeal for full details of everything relating to my parents, Mr. +McGlashan wrote:</p> + +<blockquote>I wish you could see him. He will talk to either you or me at any +time, unless other influences are brought to bear upon him. If I +send word for him to come to Sacramento, he will meet me on my +return. If you and your husband could be there on Thursday or Friday +of this week, I could arrange an interview at the hotel that would +be all you could wish. I asked him especially if he would talk to +you, and he said, "Yes."</blockquote> + +<blockquote>I dared not tell you about my interview until I had your permission. +Even now, I approach the task tremblingly.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>Your mother was not murdered. Your father died, Keseberg thinks, +about two weeks after you left. Your mother remained with him until +the last and laid him out tenderly, as you know.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>The days—to Keseberg—were perfect blanks. Mrs. Murphy died soon +after your departure with Eddy, and he was left alone—alone in his +cabin—alone with the dead bodies which he could not have lifted +from the floor, because of his weakness, even had he desired. The +man sighs and shudders, and great drops of agony gather upon his +brows as he endeavors to relate the details of those terrible days, +or recall their horrors. Loneliness, desolation was the chief +element of horror. Alone with the mutilated dead!</blockquote> + +<blockquote>One night he sprang up in affright at the sound of something moving +or scratching at a log outside his cabin. It was some time before he +could understand that it was wolves trying to get in.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>One night, about two weeks after you left, a knock came at his door, +and your mother entered. To this lonely wretch her coming seemed +like an angel's. She was cold and wet and freezing, yet her first +words were, that she must see her children. Keseberg understood that +she intended to start out that very night, and soon found that she +was slightly demented. She kept saying, "O God! I must see my +children. I must go to my children!" She finally consented to wait +until the morning, but was determined that nothing should then +prevent her lonely journey. She told Keseberg where her money was +concealed, she made him solemnly promise that he would get the money +and take it to her children. She would not taste the food he had to +offer. She had not tasted human flesh, and would hardly consent to +remain in his foul and hideous den. Too weak and Chilled to move, +she finally sank down on the floor, and he covered her as best he +could with blankets and feather bed, and made a fire to warm her; +but it was of no avail, she had received her death-chill, and in the +morning her spirit had passed heavenward.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>I believe Keseberg tells the truth. Your mother watched day and +night by your father's bedside until the end. At nightfall he ceased +to breathe, and she was alone in the desolate camp, where she +performed the last sad ministrations, and then her duty in the +mountains was accomplished. All the smothered yearnings of maternal +love now burst forth with full power. Out into the darkness and +night she rushed, without waiting for the morning. "My children, I +must see my children!"</blockquote> + +<blockquote>She arrived at Keseberg's cabin, overwrought mentally, overtaxed +physically, and chilled by the freezing night air. She was eager to +set forth on her desperate journey without resting a moment. I can +see her as he described her, wringing her hands and exclaiming over +and over again, "I must see my children!"</blockquote> + +<blockquote>The story told by Mrs. Farnham and others about finding your +mother's remains, and that of Thornton concerning the pail of blood, +are unquestionably false. She had been dead weeks, and Keseberg +confessed to me that no part of her body was found by the relief +(Fallon) party.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>My friend, I have attempted to comply with your request. More than +once during this evening I have burst into tears. I am sorry almost +that I attempted so mournful a task, but you will pardon the pain I +have caused.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>Keseberg is a powerful man, six feet in height, with full bushy +beard, thin brown locks, and high forehead. He has blue eyes that +look squarely at you while he talks. He is sometimes absent-minded +and at times seems almost carried away with the intensity of his +misery and desolation.</blockquote> + +<blockquote>He speaks and writes German, French, Spanish, and English; and his +selection of words proves him a scholar. When I first asked him to +make a statement which I could reduce to writing he urged: "What is +the use of making a statement? People incline to believe the most +horrible reports concerning a man; they will not credit what I say +in my own defence. My conscience is clear. I am an old man, and am +calmly awaiting my death. God is my judge, and it long ago ceased to +trouble me that people shunned and slandered me."</blockquote> + +<blockquote>He finally consented to make the desired statement, and in speaking +of your family he continued: "Some time after +<a name="IAnchorD43"></a><a href="#IndexD43">Mrs. George Donner's</a> +death, I thought I had gained sufficient strength to redeem the +pledge I had made her before her death. I went to Alder Creek Camp +to get the money. I had a difficult journey. The wagons of the +Donners were loaded with tobacco, powder, caps, school-books, shoes, +and dry goods. This stock was very valuable. I spent the night +there, searched carefully among the bales and bundles of goods, and +found five hundred and thirty-one dollars. Part of this sum was +gold, part silver. The silver I buried at the foot of a pine tree, a +little way from camp. One of the lower branches of another tree +reached down close to the ground, and appeared to point to the spot. +I put the gold in my pocket, and started back to my cabin; got lost, +and in crossing a little flat the snow suddenly gave way, and I sank +down almost to my arm-pits. After great exertion I raised myself out +of a snow-covered stream, and went round on a hillside and continued +my journey. At dark, and completely exhausted, and almost dead, I +came in sight of the Graves's cabin, and sometime after dark +staggered into my own. My clothes were wet, and the night was so +cold that my garments were frozen stiff. I did not build a fire nor +get anything to eat, just rolled myself up in the bed-clothes, and +shivered; finally fell asleep, and did not waken until late in the +morning. Then I saw my camp was in most inexplicable confusion; +everything about the cabin was torn up and scattered about, trunks +broken open; and my wife's jewellery, my cloak, my pistol and +ammunition was missing. I thought Indians had been there. Suddenly I +heard human voices. I hurried up to the surface of the snow, and saw +white men approaching. I was overwhelmed with joy and gratitude. I +had suffered so much and so long, that I could scarcely believe my +senses. Imagine my astonishment upon their arrival to be greeted, +not with a 'Good-morning' or a kind word, but with a gruff, insolent +demand, 'Where is Donner's money?'</blockquote> + +<blockquote>"I told them they ought to give me something to eat, and that I +would talk with them afterwards; but no, they insisted that I should +tell them about Donner's money. I asked who they were, and where +they came from, but they replied by threatening to kill me if I did +not give up the money. They threatened to hang or shoot me. At last +I told them that I had promised Mrs. Donner that I would carry her +money to her children, and I proposed to do so, unless shown some +authority by which they had a better claim. This so exasperated them +that they acted as though they were going to kill me. I offered to +let them bind me as a prisoner, and take me before Alcalde Sinclair +at Sutter's Fort, and I promised that I would then tell all I knew +about the money. They would listen to nothing, however, and finally +I told them where they would find the silver, and gave them the +gold. After I had done this they showed me a document from Alcalde +Sinclair, by which they were to receive a certain proportion of all +moneys and properties which they rescued. Those men treated me with +great unkindness. Mr. Tucker was the only one who took my part or +befriended me. When they started over the mountains, each man +carried two bales of goods. They had silks, calicoes, and delaines +from the Donners, and other articles of great value. Each man would +carry one bundle a little way, lay it down, and come back and get +the other bundle. In this way they passed over the snow three times. +I could not keep up with them, because I was so weak, but managed to +come up to their camp every night."</blockquote> + +<p>Upon receipt of this communication I wrote Mr. McGlashan from San Jose +that I was nerved for the ordeal, but that he should not permit me to +start on that momentous journey if his proposed arrangements were at +all doubtful, and that he should telegraph me at once.</p> + +<p>Alas! my note miscarried; and, believing that his proposal had not met +my approval, Mr. and Mrs. McGlashan returned to Truckee a day earlier +than expected. Two weeks later he returned the envelope, its postmarks +showing what had happened.</p> + +<p>It was not easy to gain the consent of my husband to a meeting with +Keseberg. He dreaded its effect on me. He feared the outcome of the +interview.</p> + +<p>However, on May 16, 1879, he and I, by invitation, joined Mr. and Mrs. +McGlashan at the Golden Eagle Hotel in Sacramento. The former then +announced that although Keseberg had agreed by letter to meet us there, +he had that morning begged to be spared the mortification of coming to +the city hotel, where some one might recognize him, and as of old, +point the finger of scorn at him. After some deliberation as to how I +would accept the change, Mr. McGlashan had acceded to the old man's +wish, that we drive to the neat little boarding house at Brighton next +morning, where we could have the use of the parlor for a private +interview. In compliance with this arrangement we four were at the +Brighton hotel at the appointed time.</p> + +<p>Mr. McGlashan and my husband went in search of Keseberg, and after some +delay returned, saying:</p> + +<p>"Keseberg cannot overcome his strong feeling against a meeting in a +public house. He has tidied up a vacant room in the brewery adjoining +the house where he lives with his afflicted children. It being Sunday, +he knows that no one will be about to disturb us. Will you go there?"</p> + +<p>I could only reply, "I am ready."</p> + +<p>My husband, seeing my lips tremble and knowing the intensity of my +suppressed emotion, hastened to assure me that he had talked with the +man, and been impressed by his straightforward answers, and that I need +have no dread of meeting or talking with him.</p> + +<p>When we met at his door, Mr. McGlashan introduced us. We bowed, not as +strangers, not as friends, nor did we shake hands. Our thoughts were +fixed solely on the purpose that had brought us together. He invited us +to enter, led the way to that room which I had been told he had swept +and furnished for the occasion with seats for five. His first sentence +made us both forget that others were present. It opened the way at +once.</p> + +<p>"Mr. McGlashan has told me that you have questions you wish to ask me +yourself about what happened in the mountain cabin."</p> + +<p>Still standing, and looking up into his face, I replied: "Yes, for the +eye of God and your eyes witnessed my mother's last hours, and I have +come to ask you, in the presence of that other Witness, when, where, +and how she died. I want you to tell me all, and so truly that there +shall be no disappointment for me, nor remorse and denials for you in +your last hour. Tell it now, so that you will not need to send for me +to hear a different story then."</p> + +<p>I took the chair he proffered, and he placed his own opposite and +having gently reminded me of the love and respect the members of the +Donner Party bore their captain and his wife, earnestly and feelingly, +he told me the story as he had related it to Mr. McGlashan.</p> + +<p>Then, before I understood his movement, he had sunk upon his knees, +saying solemnly,</p> + +<p>"On my knees before you, and in the sight of God, I want to assert my +innocence."</p> + +<p>I could not have it thus. I bade him rise, and stand with me in the +presence of the all-seeing Father. Extending my upturned hand, I bade +him lay his own right hand upon it, then covering it with my left, I +bade him speak. Slowly, but unhesitatingly, he spoke:</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Houghton, if I had murdered your mother, would I stand here with +my hand between your hands, look into your pale face, see the +tear-marks on your cheeks, and the quiver of your lips as you ask the +question? No, God Almighty is my witness, I am innocent of your +mother's death! I have given you the facts as I gave them to the Fallon +Party, as I told them at Sutter's Fort, and as I repeated them to Mr. +McGlashan. You will hear no change from my death-bed, for what I have +told you is true."</p> + +<p>There, with a man's honor and soul to uncover, I had scarcely breathed +while he spoke. I watched the expression of his face, his words, his +hands. His eyes did not turn from my face; his hand between mine lay as +untrembling as that of a child in peaceful sleep; and so, unflinchingly +Lewis Keseberg passed the ordeal which would have made a guilty man +quake.</p> + +<p>I felt the truth of his assertion, and told him that if it would be any +comfort to him at that late day to know that <a name="IAnchorD36"></a><a href="#IndexD36">Tamsen Donner's</a> daughter +believed him innocent of her murder, he had that assurance in my words, +and that I would maintain that belief so long as my lips retained their +power of speech.</p> + +<p>Tears glistened in his eyes as he uttered a heartfelt "Thank you!" and +spoke of the comfort the recollection of this meeting would be to him +during the remaining years of his life.</p> + +<p>Before our departure, Mr. McGlashan asked Keseberg to step aside and +show my husband the scars left by the wound which had prevented his +going to the settlement with the earlier refugees. There was a mark of +a fearful gash which had almost severed the heel from the foot and left +a troublesome deformity. One could easily realize how slow and tedious +its healing must have been, and Keseberg assured us that walking caused +excruciating pain even at the time the Third Relief Corps left camp.</p> + +<p>His clothing was threadbare, but neat and clean. One could not but feel +that he was poor, yet he courteously but positively declined the +assistance which, privately, I offered him. In bidding him good-bye, I +remarked that we might not see one another again on earth, and he +replied pathetically, "Don't say that, for I hope this may not be our +last meeting."</p> + +<p>I did not see Keseberg again. Years later, I learned that he had passed +away; and in answer to inquiries I received the following personal note +from <a name="IAnchorW4"></a><a href="#IndexW4">Dr. G.A. White</a>, Medical Superintendent of the Sacramento County +Hospital:</p> + +<blockquote>Lewis Keseberg died here on September 3, 1895; aged 81 years. He +left no special message to any one. His death was peaceful.</blockquote> +<br> + +<h3>THE END</h3> + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<a name="INDEX"></a><h2>INDEX</h2> + +<a name="IndexA1"></a><a href="#IAnchorA1">Academy of Pacific Coast History</a><br> +<a name="IndexA2"></a><a href="#IAnchorA2">Altemera, Padre</a><br> +<a name="IndexA3"></a><a href="#IAnchorA3">American Fur Company</a><br> +<a name="IndexA4"></a><a href="#IAnchorA4">American Tract Society</a><br> +Arguello, Doña Concepcion, + (<a name="IndexA5"></a><a href="#IAnchorA5">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexA6"></a><a href="#IAnchorA6">2</a>)<br> +<br> +Bartlett, Washington A., + (<a name="IndexB1"></a><a href="#IAnchorB1">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexB2"></a><a href="#IAnchorB2">2</a>)<br> +<a name="IndexB3"></a><a href="#IAnchorB3">Benton, Rev. J.A.</a><br> +<a name="IndexB4"></a><a href="#IAnchorB4">Benton, Thomas H.</a><br> +Boggs, ex-Governor of Missouri, + (<a name="IndexB5"></a><a href="#IAnchorB5">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexB6"></a><a href="#IAnchorB6">2</a>), + (<a name="IndexB7"></a><a href="#IAnchorB7">3</a>), + (<a name="IndexB8"></a><a href="#IAnchorB8">4</a>), + (<a name="IndexB9"></a><a href="#IAnchorB9">5</a>)<br> +Bond, Frances, + (<a name="IndexB10"></a><a href="#IAnchorB10">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexB11"></a><a href="#IAnchorB11">2</a>)<br> +<a name="IndexB12"></a><a href="#IAnchorB12">Boone, Alphonso</a><br> +Breen, Patrick, + (<a name="IndexB13"></a><a href="#IAnchorB13">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexB14"></a><a href="#IAnchorB14">2</a>), + (<a name="IndexB15"></a><a href="#IAnchorB15">3</a>), + (<a name="IndexB16"></a><a href="#IAnchorB16">4</a>),<br> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;">diary of, + (<a name="IndexB17"></a><a href="#IAnchorB17">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexB19"></a><a href="#IAnchorB19">2</a>)</span><br> +Brenheim, Adolph, + (<a name="IndexB20"></a><a href="#IAnchorB20">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexB21"></a><a href="#IAnchorB21">2</a>)<br> +Brunner, Christian, + (<a name="IndexB22"></a><a href="#IAnchorB22">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexB23"></a><a href="#IAnchorB23">2</a>), + (<a name="IndexB24"></a><a href="#IAnchorB24">3</a>), + (<a name="IndexB25"></a><a href="#IAnchorB25">4</a>), + (<a name="IndexB26"></a><a href="#IAnchorB26">5</a>)<br> +Brunner, "Grandma", + (<a name="IndexB27"></a><a href="#IAnchorB27">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexB28"></a><a href="#IAnchorB28">2</a>), + (<a name="IndexB29"></a><a href="#IAnchorB29">3</a>), + (<a name="IndexB30"></a><a href="#IAnchorB30">4</a>),<br> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a name="IndexB31"></a><a href="#IAnchorB31">and Napoleon</a></span><br> +Bryant, Edwin, + (<a name="IndexB32"></a><a href="#IAnchorB32">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexB33"></a><a href="#IAnchorB33">2</a>), + (<a name="IndexB34"></a><a href="#IAnchorB34">3</a>), + (<a name="IndexB35"></a><a href="#IAnchorB35">4</a>), + (<a name="IndexB36"></a><a href="#IAnchorB36">5</a>), + (<a name="IndexB37"></a><a href="#IAnchorB37">6</a>)<br> +<br> + +<a name="IndexC1"></a><a href="#IAnchorC1">Cady, Charles</a><br> +<i>California Star</i>, + (<a name="IndexC2"></a><a href="#IAnchorC2">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexC3"></a><a href="#IAnchorC3">2</a>), + (<a name="IndexC4"></a><a href="#IAnchorC4">3</a>), + (<a name="IndexC5"></a><a href="#IAnchorC5">4</a>)<br> +<a name="IndexC6"></a><a href="#IAnchorC6">Camp of Death</a><br> +<a name="IndexC7"></a><a href="#IAnchorC7">Chamberlain, Charlotte (Mrs. Wm. E.)</a><br> +<a name="IndexC8"></a><a href="#IAnchorC8">Chamberlain, William E.</a><br> +<a name="IndexC9"></a><a href="#IAnchorC9">Church, Mission service</a><br> +<a name="IndexC10"></a><a href="#IAnchorC10">Civil War</a><br> +Clark, Nicholas, + (<a name="IndexC11"></a><a href="#IAnchorC11">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexC12"></a><a href="#IAnchorC12">2</a>), + (<a name="IndexC13"></a><a href="#IAnchorC13">3</a>), + (<a name="IndexC14"></a><a href="#IAnchorC14">4</a>)<br> +<a name="IndexC15"></a><a href="#IAnchorC15">Cody, Bill</a><br> +Coffemeir, Edward, + (<a name="IndexC16"></a><a href="#IAnchorC16">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexC17"></a><a href="#IAnchorC17">2</a>)<br> +<a name="IndexC18"></a><a href="#IAnchorC18">Coon, William</a><br> +<a name="IndexC19"></a><a href="#IAnchorC19">Curtis, James</a><br> +<br> + +<a name="IndexD1"></a><a href="#IAnchorD1">Del, John</a><br> +<a name="IndexD2"></a><a href="#IAnchorD2">Denison, Eliza</a><br> +<a name="IndexD3"></a><a href="#IAnchorD3">"Diary of Patrick Breen, One of the Donner Party"</a><br> +<a name="IndexD4"></a><a href="#IAnchorD4">Dofar, Matthew</a><br> +Dolan, Patrick, + (<a name="IndexD5"></a><a href="#IAnchorD5">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexD6"></a><a href="#IAnchorD6">2</a>), + (<a name="IndexD7"></a><a href="#IAnchorD7">3</a>), + (<a name="IndexD8"></a><a href="#IAnchorD8">4</a>)<br> +Donner, Elitha, + (<a name="IndexD9"></a><a href="#IAnchorD9">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexD10"></a><a href="#IAnchorD10">2</a>), + (<a name="IndexD11"></a><a href="#IAnchorD11">3</a>), + (<a name="IndexD12"></a><a href="#IAnchorD12">4</a>), + (<a name="IndexD13"></a><a href="#IAnchorD13">5</a>), + (<a name="IndexD14"></a><a href="#IAnchorD14">6</a>), + (<a name="IndexD15"></a><a href="#IAnchorD15">7</a>)<br> +Donner, Frances, + (<a name="IndexD16"></a><a href="#IAnchorD16">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexD17"></a><a href="#IAnchorD17">2</a>), + (<a name="IndexD18"></a><a href="#IAnchorD18">3</a>)<br> +Donner, George, + (<a name="IndexD19"></a><a href="#IAnchorD19">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexD20"></a><a href="#IAnchorD20">2</a>), + (<a name="IndexD21"></a><a href="#IAnchorD21">3</a>), + (<a name="IndexD22"></a><a href="#IAnchorD22">4</a>), + (<a name="IndexD23"></a><a href="#IAnchorD23">5</a>), + (<a name="IndexD24"></a><a href="#IAnchorD24">6</a>), + (<a name="IndexD25"></a><a href="#IAnchorD25">7</a>), + (<a name="IndexD26"></a><a href="#IAnchorD26">8</a>), + (<a name="IndexD27"></a><a href="#IAnchorD27">9</a>), + (<a name="IndexD28"></a><a href="#IAnchorD28">10</a>), + (<a name="IndexD29"></a><a href="#IAnchorD29">11</a>)<br> +<a name="IAnchorD72"></a><a href="#IndexD72">Donner, Mrs. George</a>, + (<a name="IndexD30"></a><a href="#IAnchorD30">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexD31"></a><a href="#IAnchorD31">2</a>), + (<a name="IndexD32"></a><a href="#IAnchorD32">3</a>), + (<a name="IndexD33"></a><a href="#IAnchorD33">4</a>), + (<a name="IndexD34"></a><a href="#IAnchorD34">5</a>), + (<a name="IndexD35"></a><a href="#IAnchorD35">6</a>), + (<a name="IndexD36"></a><a href="#IAnchorD36">7</a>), + (<a name="IndexD37"></a><a href="#IAnchorD37">8</a>), + (<a name="IndexD38"></a><a href="#IAnchorD38">9</a>), + (<a name="IndexD39"></a><a href="#IAnchorD39">10</a>), + (<a name="IndexD40"></a><a href="#IAnchorD40">11</a>), + (<a name="IndexD41"></a><a href="#IAnchorD41">12</a>), + (<a name="IndexD42"></a><a href="#IAnchorD42">13</a>), + (<a name="IndexD43"></a><a href="#IAnchorD43">14</a>),<br> + <span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a name="IndexD44"></a><a href="#IAnchorD44">letters</a></span><br> +Donner, Georgia, + (<a name="IndexD45"></a><a href="#IAnchorD45">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexD46"></a><a href="#IAnchorD46">2</a>)<br> +Donner, Jacob, + (<a name="IndexD47"></a><a href="#IAnchorD47">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexD48"></a><a href="#IAnchorD48">2</a>), + (<a name="IndexD49"></a><a href="#IAnchorD49">3</a>), + (<a name="IndexD50"></a><a href="#IAnchorD50">4</a>), + (<a name="IndexD51"></a><a href="#IAnchorD51">5</a>), + (<a name="IndexD52"></a><a href="#IAnchorD52">6</a>)<br> +Donner, Leanna, + (<a name="IndexD53"></a><a href="#IAnchorD53">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexD54"></a><a href="#IAnchorD54">2</a>), + (<a name="IndexD55"></a><a href="#IAnchorD55">3</a>), + (<a name="IndexD56"></a><a href="#IAnchorD56">4</a>), + (<a name="IndexD57"></a><a href="#IAnchorD57">5</a>)<br> +Donner, Mary, + (<a name="IndexD58"></a><a href="#IAnchorD58">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexD59"></a><a href="#IAnchorD59">2</a>)<br> +Donner Party, + (<a name="IndexD60"></a><a href="#IAnchorD60">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexD61"></a><a href="#IAnchorD61">2</a>), + (<a name="IndexD62"></a><a href="#IAnchorD62">3</a>), + (<a name="IndexD63"></a><a href="#IAnchorD63">4</a>), + (<a name="IndexD64"></a><a href="#IAnchorD64">5</a>), + (<a name="IndexD65"></a><a href="#IAnchorD65">6</a>), + (<a name="IndexD66"></a><a href="#IAnchorD66">7</a>), + (<a name="IndexD67"></a><a href="#IAnchorD67">8</a>) + (<a name="IndexD68"></a><a href="#IAnchorD68">9</a>), + (<a name="IndexD69"></a><a href="#IAnchorD69">10</a>), + (<a name="IndexD70"></a><a href="#IAnchorD70">11</a>), + (<a name="IndexD71"></a><a href="#IAnchorD71">12</a>)<br> +Dozier, Tamsen Eustis<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>see</i> <a name="IndexD72"></a><a href="#IAnchorD72">Donner, Mrs. George.</a></span> +<br> +<br> +Eddy, William, + (<a name="IndexE1"></a><a href="#IAnchorE1">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexE2"></a><a href="#IAnchorE2">2</a>), + (<a name="IndexE3"></a><a href="#IAnchorE3">3</a>), + (<a name="IndexE4"></a><a href="#IAnchorE4">4</a>), + (<a name="IndexE5"></a><a href="#IAnchorE5">5</a>), + (<a name="IndexE6"></a><a href="#IAnchorE6">6</a>), + (<a name="IndexE7"></a><a href="#IAnchorE7">7</a>), + (<a name="IndexE8"></a><a href="#IAnchorE8">8</a>), + (<a name="IndexE9"></a><a href="#IAnchorE9">9</a>)<br> +<br> + +<a name="IndexF1"></a><a href="#IAnchorF1">Fallon, Thomas</a>,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a name="IndexF2"></a><a href="#IAnchorF2">diary</a></span><br> +<a name="IndexF3"></a><a href="#IAnchorF3">Fitch, Capt.</a><br> +"Forlorn Hope" Party, + (<a name="IndexF4"></a><a href="#IAnchorF4">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexF5"></a><a href="#IAnchorF5">2</a>)<br> +<a name="IndexF6"></a><a href="#IAnchorF6">Fortune, Padre</a><br> +Fosdick, Jay, + (<a name="IndexF7"></a><a href="#IAnchorF7">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexF8"></a><a href="#IAnchorF8">2</a>), + (<a name="IndexF9"></a><a href="#IAnchorF9">3</a>)<br> +<a name="IndexF10"></a><a href="#IAnchorF10">Foster, John</a><br> +Foster, William, + (<a name="IndexF11"></a><a href="#IAnchorF11">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexF12"></a><a href="#IAnchorF12">2</a>), + (<a name="IndexF13"></a><a href="#IAnchorF13">3</a>), + (<a name="IndexF14"></a><a href="#IAnchorF14">4</a>)<br> +Francis, Allen, + (<a name="IndexF15"></a><a href="#IAnchorF15">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexF16"></a><a href="#IAnchorF16">2</a>), + (<a name="IndexF17"></a><a href="#IAnchorF17">3</a>), + (<a name="IndexF18"></a><a href="#IAnchorF18">4</a>)<br> +Frémont, John C., + (<a name="IndexF19"></a><a href="#IAnchorF19">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexF20"></a><a href="#IAnchorF20">2</a>)<br> +Frisbie, Capt., + (<a name="IndexF21"></a><a href="#IAnchorF21">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexF22"></a><a href="#IAnchorF22">2</a>),<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a name="IndexF23"></a><a href="#IAnchorF23">marriage of</a></span><br> +<a name="IndexF24"></a><a href="#IAnchorF24">Fuller, John</a><br> +<br> + +Glover, Aguilla, + (<a name="IndexG1"></a><a href="#IAnchorG1">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexG2"></a><a href="#IAnchorG2">2</a>)<br> +Gold,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a name="IndexG3"></a><a href="#IAnchorG3">discovery</a></span>,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a name="IndexG4"></a><a href="#IAnchorG4">early minings</a></span>,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a name="IndexG5"></a><a href="#IAnchorG5">seekers</a></span><br> +<br> +Graves, W.F., + (<a name="IndexG6"></a><a href="#IAnchorG6">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexG7"></a><a href="#IAnchorG7">2</a>), + (<a name="IndexG8"></a><a href="#IAnchorG8">3</a>)<br> +<a name="IndexG9"></a><a href="#IAnchorG9">Grayson, Mrs. Andrew J.</a><br> +<a name="IndexG10"></a><a href="#IAnchorG10">Great Overland Caravan</a><br> +<a name="IndexG11"></a><a href="#IAnchorG11">Greenwood, "Old Trapper"</a><br> +<br> + +Halloran, Luke, + (<a name="IndexH1"></a><a href="#IAnchorH1">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexH2"></a><a href="#IAnchorH2">2</a>), + (<a name="IndexH3"></a><a href="#IAnchorH3">3</a>)<br> +Hardcoop, ——, + (<a name="IndexH4"></a><a href="#IAnchorH4">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexH5"></a><a href="#IAnchorH5">2</a>)<br> +Hastings, Lansford W., + (<a name="IndexH6"></a><a href="#IAnchorH6">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexH7"></a><a href="#IAnchorH7">2</a>)<br> +Herron, Walter, + (<a name="IndexH8"></a><a href="#IAnchorH8">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexH9"></a><a href="#IAnchorH9">2</a>)<br> +<a name="IndexH10"></a><a href="#IAnchorH10">Hook, Solomon</a><br> +<a name="IndexH11"></a><a href="#IAnchorH11">Hooker, Capt. Joe</a><br> +Houghton, S.O., + (<a name="IndexH12"></a><a href="#IAnchorH12">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexH13"></a><a href="#IAnchorH13">2</a>), + (<a name="IndexH14"></a><a href="#IAnchorH14">3</a>), + (<a name="IndexH15"></a><a href="#IAnchorH15">4</a>)<br> +<br> + +Independence, Mo., + (<a name="IndexI1"></a><a href="#IAnchorI1">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexI2"></a><a href="#IAnchorI2">2</a>), + (<a name="IndexI3"></a><a href="#IAnchorI3">3</a>)<br> +Indians,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a name="IndexI4"></a><a href="#IAnchorI4">as guides</a></span>,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a name="IndexI5"></a><a href="#IAnchorI5">Sioux</a></span>,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a name="IndexI6"></a><a href="#IAnchorI6">on raids</a></span>,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a name="IndexI7"></a><a href="#IAnchorI7">as saviours</a></span>,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a name="IndexI8"></a><a href="#IAnchorI8">at "grub-feast"</a></span><br> +<br> + +<a name="IndexJ1"></a><a href="#IAnchorJ1">James, Noah</a><br> +<a name="IndexJ2"></a><a href="#IAnchorJ2">Jondro, Joseph</a><br> +<a name="IndexJ3"></a><a href="#IAnchorJ3">Josephine, Empress</a><br> +<br> + +<a name="IndexK1"></a><a href="#IAnchorK1">Kerns, Capt.</a><br> +Keseberg, Lewis, + (<a name="IndexK2"></a><a href="#IAnchorK2">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexK3"></a><a href="#IAnchorK3">2</a>), + (<a name="IndexK4"></a><a href="#IAnchorK4">3</a>), + (<a name="IndexK5"></a><a href="#IAnchorK5">4</a>), + (<a name="IndexK6"></a><a href="#IAnchorK6">5</a>), + (<a name="IndexK7"></a><a href="#IAnchorK7">6</a>)<br> +<br> + +<a name="IndexL1"></a><a href="#IAnchorL1">Land-grants, Mexican</a><br> +<a name="IndexL2"></a><a href="#IAnchorL2">Leese, Jacob</a><br> +<a name="IndexL3"></a><a href="#IAnchorL3">"Life and Days of General John A. Sutter"</a><br> +<br> + +Maps of territory, + (<a name="IndexM1"></a><a href="#IAnchorM1">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexM2"></a><a href="#IAnchorM2">2</a>)<br> +<a name="IndexM3"></a><a href="#IAnchorM3">Maury, William L.</a><br> +<a name="IndexM4"></a><a href="#IAnchorM4">McCoon, Perry</a><br> +McCutchen, William, + (<a name="IndexM5"></a><a href="#IAnchorM5">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexM6"></a><a href="#IAnchorM6">2</a>), + (<a name="IndexM7"></a><a href="#IAnchorM7">3</a>)<br> +<a name="IndexM8"></a><a href="#IAnchorM8">McGlashan, C.F.</a><br> +McKinstrey, Col. George, + (<a name="IndexM9"></a><a href="#IAnchorM9">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexM10"></a><a href="#IAnchorM10">2</a>)<br> +Mervine, Capt., + (<a name="IndexM11"></a><a href="#IAnchorM11">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexM12"></a><a href="#IAnchorM12">2</a>)<br> +Mexican War, + (<a name="IndexM13"></a><a href="#IAnchorM13">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexM14"></a><a href="#IAnchorM14">2</a>)<br> +Miller, Hiram, + (<a name="IndexM15"></a><a href="#IAnchorM15">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexM16"></a><a href="#IAnchorM16">2</a>), + (<a name="IndexM17"></a><a href="#IAnchorM17">3</a>), + (<a name="IndexM18"></a><a href="#IAnchorM18">4</a>)<br> +<a name="IndexM19"></a><a href="#IAnchorM19">Moutrey, R.S.</a><br> +Murphy, Mrs. Lavina, + (<a name="IndexM20"></a><a href="#IAnchorM20">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexM21"></a><a href="#IAnchorM21">2</a>)<br> +<a name="IndexM22"></a><a href="#IAnchorM22">Murphy, William G.</a><br> +<br> + +<a name="IndexN1"></a><a href="#IAnchorN1">Napoleon</a><br> +<br> + +<a name="IndexO1"></a><a href="#IAnchorO1">Oakley, Howard</a><br> +<a name="IndexO2"></a><a href="#IAnchorO2">Oatman, Eugene</a><br> +<a name="IndexO3"></a><a href="#IAnchorO3">"Oregon and California"</a><br> +<br> + +<a name="IndexP1"></a><a href="#IAnchorP1">Packwood, Mr. and Mrs.</a><br> +Pike, William, + (<a name="IndexP2"></a><a href="#IAnchorP2">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexP3"></a><a href="#IAnchorP3">2</a>), + (<a name="IndexP4"></a><a href="#IAnchorP4">3</a>)<br> +<a name="IndexP5"></a><a href="#IAnchorP5">Pony Express, first</a><br> +<a name="IndexP6"></a><a href="#IAnchorP6">Poor, Elizabeth</a>,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a name="IndexP7"></a><a href="#IAnchorP7">letter to</a></span><br> +<a name="IndexP8"></a><a href="#IAnchorP8">Prudon, Major</a><br> +<br> + +Reed, James F., + (<a name="IndexR1"></a><a href="#IAnchorR1">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexR2"></a><a href="#IAnchorR2">2</a>), + (<a name="IndexR3"></a><a href="#IAnchorR3">3</a>), + (<a name="IndexR4"></a><a href="#IAnchorR4">4</a>), + (<a name="IndexR5"></a><a href="#IAnchorR5">5</a>)<br> +Relief Party, First, + (<a name="IndexR6"></a><a href="#IAnchorR6">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexR7"></a><a href="#IAnchorR7">2</a>)<br> +<a name="IndexR8"></a><a href="#IAnchorR8">Relief Party, Fourth</a><br> +Relief Party, Second, + (<a name="IndexR9"></a><a href="#IAnchorR9">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexR10"></a><a href="#IAnchorR10">2</a>)<br> +<a name="IndexR11"></a><a href="#IAnchorR11">Relief Party, Third</a><br> +Rhinehart, Joseph, + (<a name="IndexR12"></a><a href="#IAnchorR12">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexR13"></a><a href="#IAnchorR13">2</a>)<br> +<a name="IndexR14"></a><a href="#IAnchorR14">Rhodes, Daniel</a><br> +Rhodes, John, + (<a name="IndexR15"></a><a href="#IAnchorR15">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexR16"></a><a href="#IAnchorR16">2</a>)<br> +<a name="IndexR17"></a><a href="#IAnchorR17">Richardson, ——</a><br> +<a name="IndexR18"></a><a href="#IAnchorR18">Richey, D.</a><br> +<a name="IndexR19"></a><a href="#IAnchorR19">Richer, Col. M.D.</a><br> +<a name="IndexR20"></a><a href="#IAnchorR20">Robinson, Kate</a><br> +Robinson, Judge Robert, + (<a name="IndexR21"></a><a href="#IAnchorR21">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexR22"></a><a href="#IAnchorR22">2</a>)<br> +<a name="IndexR23"></a><a href="#IAnchorR23">Robinson, Hon. Tod</a><br> +Russell, Col., + (<a name="IndexR24"></a><a href="#IAnchorR24">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexR25"></a><a href="#IAnchorR25">2</a>), + (<a name="IndexR26"></a><a href="#IAnchorR26">3</a>), + (<a name="IndexR27"></a><a href="#IAnchorR27">4</a>)<br> +<br> + +<a name="IndexS1"></a><a href="#IAnchorS1">Sacramento</a><br> +<i>Sacramento Union</i>, + (<a name="IndexS2"></a><a href="#IAnchorS2">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexS3"></a><a href="#IAnchorS3">2</a>), + (<a name="IndexS4"></a><a href="#IAnchorS4">3</a>), + (<a name="IndexS5"></a><a href="#IAnchorS5">4</a>), + (<a name="IndexS6"></a><a href="#IAnchorS6">5</a>)<br> +School,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">first in California,</span> + (<a name="IndexS7"></a><a href="#IAnchorS7">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexS8"></a><a href="#IAnchorS8">2</a>)<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a name="IndexS9"></a><a href="#IAnchorS9">Miss Doty's</a></span>,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a name="IndexS10"></a><a href="#IAnchorS10">St. Mary's Hall</a></span>,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a name="IndexS11"></a><a href="#IAnchorS11">Miss Hutchinson's</a></span>,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a name="IndexS12"></a><a href="#IAnchorS12">St. Catherine's</a></span>,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a name="IndexS13"></a><a href="#IAnchorS13">Jefferson Grammar</a></span><br> +<a name="IndexS14"></a><a href="#IAnchorS14">Schoonover, T.J.</a><br> +<a name="IndexS15"></a><a href="#IAnchorS15">Sherman, Gen. Wm. T.</a><br> +Shoemaker, Samuel, + (<a name="IndexS16"></a><a href="#IAnchorS16">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexS17"></a><a href="#IAnchorS17">2</a>)<br> +Sinclair, John, + (<a name="IndexS18"></a><a href="#IAnchorS18">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexS19"></a><a href="#IAnchorS19">2</a>), + (<a name="IndexS20"></a><a href="#IAnchorS20">2</a>)<br> +<a name="IndexS21"></a><a href="#IAnchorS21">Sloat, Commodore</a><br> +<a name="IndexS22"></a><a href="#IAnchorS22">Smallpox</a><br> +<a name="IndexS23"></a><a href="#IAnchorS23">Smith, General</a><br> +Smith, James, + (<a name="IndexS24"></a><a href="#IAnchorS24">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexS25"></a><a href="#IAnchorS25">2</a>)<br> +Snyder, John, + (<a name="IndexS26"></a><a href="#IAnchorS26">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexS27"></a><a href="#IAnchorS27">2</a>)<br> +<a name="IndexS28"></a><a href="#IAnchorS28">Sonoma</a>,<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><a name="IndexS29"></a><a href="#IAnchorS29">last visit to</a></span><br> +<i>Springfield Journal</i>, + (<a name="IndexS30"></a><a href="#IAnchorS30">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexS31"></a><a href="#IAnchorS31">2</a>), + (<a name="IndexS32"></a><a href="#IAnchorS32">3</a>)<br> +Stanton, Charles, + (<a name="IndexS33"></a><a href="#IAnchorS33">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexS34"></a><a href="#IAnchorS34">2</a>), + (<a name="IndexS35"></a><a href="#IAnchorS35">3</a>), + (<a name="IndexS36"></a><a href="#IAnchorS36">4</a>)<br> +Stark, John, + (<a name="IndexS37"></a><a href="#IAnchorS37">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexS38"></a><a href="#IAnchorS38">2</a>)<br> +<a name="IndexS39"></a><a href="#IAnchorS39">Starved Camp</a><br> +Stone, Charles, + (<a name="IndexS40"></a><a href="#IAnchorS40">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexS41"></a><a href="#IAnchorS41">2</a>)<br> +Sutter, Captain John A., + (<a name="IndexS42"></a><a href="#IAnchorS42">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexS43"></a><a href="#IAnchorS43">2</a>), + (<a name="IndexS44"></a><a href="#IAnchorS44">3</a>), + (<a name="IndexS45"></a><a href="#IAnchorS45">4</a>), + (<a name="IndexS46"></a><a href="#IAnchorS46">5</a>)<br> +<a name="IndexS47"></a><a href="#IAnchorS47">Sutter's Fort</a><br> +<a name="IndexS48"></a><a href="#IAnchorS48">Swift, Margaret</a><br> +<br> + +Thanksgiving celebration, + (<a name="IndexT1"></a><a href="#IAnchorT1">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexT2"></a><a href="#IAnchorT2">2</a>)<br> +Thornton, J.Q., + (<a name="IndexT3"></a><a href="#IAnchorT3">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexT4"></a><a href="#IAnchorT4">2</a>),<br> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">extracts from journal,</span> + (<a name="IndexT5"></a><a href="#IAnchorT5">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexT6"></a><a href="#IAnchorT6">2</a>), + (<a name="IndexT7"></a><a href="#IAnchorT7">3</a>), + (<a name="IndexT8"></a><a href="#IAnchorT8">4</a>), + (<a name="IndexT9"></a><a href="#IAnchorT9">5</a>), + (<a name="IndexT10"></a><a href="#IAnchorT10">6</a>), + (<a name="IndexT11"></a><a href="#IAnchorT11">7</a>), + (<a name="IndexT12"></a><a href="#IAnchorT12">8</a>)<br> +<a name="IndexT13"></a><a href="#IAnchorT13">"Thrilling Events in California History"</a><br> +<a name="IndexT14"></a><a href="#IAnchorT14">Toll, Agnes</a><br> +<a name="IndexT15"></a><a href="#IAnchorT15">"Topographical Report, with Maps Attached"</a><br> +"Travels Among the Rocky Mountains, Through Oregon and California", + (<a name="IndexT16"></a><a href="#IAnchorT16">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexT17"></a><a href="#IAnchorT17">2</a>)<br> + +Trubode, John Baptiste, + (<a name="IndexT18"></a><a href="#IAnchorT18">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexT19"></a><a href="#IAnchorT19">2</a>), + (<a name="IndexT20"></a><a href="#IAnchorT20">3</a>), + (<a name="IndexT21"></a><a href="#IAnchorT21">4</a>), + (<a name="IndexT22"></a><a href="#IAnchorT22">5</a>), + (<a name="IndexT23"></a><a href="#IAnchorT23">6</a>)<br> +<a name="IndexT24"></a><a href="#IAnchorT24">Tucker, Daniel</a><br> +<a name="IndexT25"></a><a href="#IAnchorT25">Tucker, George</a><br> +<a name="IndexT26"></a><a href="#IAnchorT26">Tucker, Racine</a><br> +<a name="IndexT27"></a><a href="#IAnchorT27">Turner, John</a><br> +<br> + +<a name="IndexU1"></a><a href="#IAnchorU1">Upton, Nellie</a><br> +<br> + +Vallejo, Mariano G., + (<a name="IndexV1"></a><a href="#IAnchorV1">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexV2"></a><a href="#IAnchorV2">2</a>), + (<a name="IndexV3"></a><a href="#IAnchorV3">3</a>)<br> +<br> + +<a name="IndexW1"></a><a href="#IAnchorW1">Webster, Daniel</a><br> +"What I Saw in California", + (<a name="IndexW2"></a><a href="#IAnchorW2">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexW3"></a><a href="#IAnchorW3">2</a>)<br> +<a name="IndexW4"></a><a href="#IAnchorW4">White, Dr. G.A.</a><br> +<a name="IndexW5"></a><a href="#IAnchorW5">White, Henry A.</a><br> +Wolfinger, ——, + (<a name="IndexW6"></a><a href="#IAnchorW6">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexW7"></a><a href="#IAnchorW7">2</a>)<br> +Woodworth, Midshipman, + (<a name="IndexW8"></a><a href="#IAnchorW8">1</a>), + (<a name="IndexW9"></a><a href="#IAnchorW9">2</a>), + (<a name="IndexW10"></a><a href="#IAnchorW10">3</a>)<br> +<br> + +<a name="IndexY1"></a><a href="#IAnchorY1">Yost, Daniel</a><br> +<a name="IndexY2"></a><a href="#IAnchorY2">Yount, George</a><br> +<br> +<a name="IndexZ1"></a><a href="#IAnchorZ1">Zabriskie, Annie</a><br> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11146 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + diff --git a/11146-h/images/001.jpg b/11146-h/images/001.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d4ca6c0 --- /dev/null +++ b/11146-h/images/001.jpg diff --git a/11146-h/images/002.jpg b/11146-h/images/002.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..afd2215 --- /dev/null +++ b/11146-h/images/002.jpg diff --git a/11146-h/images/003.jpg b/11146-h/images/003.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8f37ac3 --- /dev/null +++ b/11146-h/images/003.jpg diff --git a/11146-h/images/004.jpg b/11146-h/images/004.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9ce534f --- /dev/null +++ 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