The Expedition of the Donner Party and its Tragic FateHoughton, Eliza Poor Donner
History
The Expedition of the Donner Party and its Tragic Fate
Houghton, Eliza Poor Donner
Donner Party; Overland journeys to the Pacific
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
Sacramento. I did not sleep until I had thanked the good Father for
sending help to me in my time of need.
CHAPTER XXXIII
THE PUBLIC SCHOOLS OF SACRAMENTO--A GLIMPSE OF GRANDPA--THE RANCHO DE
LOS CAZADORES--MY SWEETEST PRIVILEGE--LETTERS FROM THE BRUNNERS.
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.
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.
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,
"The old gentleman is lonely, and may have come to take you girls back
with him."
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.
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,
"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."
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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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