"From many statements made by persons who have lately adopted California as their home, I am led to believe it is the general impression that no American civilized beings inhabited this region prior to the discovery of gold; and that the news of this discovery reaching home, brought the first adventurers. As yet I have nowhere seen recorded the fact that in July, 1846, the ship _Brooklyn_ landed on the shore of San Francisco bay two hundred and fifty passengers, among whom were upwards of seventy females; it being the first emigration to this place _via_ Cape Horn. "In October previous a company had arrived overland, most of whom had been detained at Sacramento fort, being forbidden by the governor to proceed further. Upon arriving in Yerba Buena, in '46, we found two of these families, some half dozen American gentlemen, three or four old Californians with their families, the officers and marines of the sloop of war _Portsmouth_, and about one hundred Indians, occupying the place now called San Francisco. "The ship _Brooklyn_ left us on the rocks at the foot of what is now Broadway. From this point we directed our steps to the old adobe on (now) Dupont street. It was the first to shelter us from the chilling winds. A little further on (toward Jackson street), stood the adobe of old 'English Jack,' who kept a sort of depot for the milk woman, who came in daily, with a dozen bottles of milk hung to an old horse, and which they retailed at a real (twelve and a half cents) per bottle. At this time, where now are Jackson and Stockton streets were the outer boundaries of the town. Back of the home of 'English Jack' stood a cottage built by an American who escaped from a whale-ship and married a Californian woman. Attached to this house was a windmill and a shop. In this house I lived during the winter of '46, and the principal room was used by Dr. Poet, of the navy, as a hospital. Here were brought the few who were saved of the unfortunate 'Donner party,' whose sad fate will never be forgotten. One of the Donner children, a girl of nine years, related to me that her father was the first of that party to fall a victim to the cold and hunger. Her mother then came on with the children, 'till the babe grew sick and she was unable to carry it further. She told the children to go on with the company, and if the babe died, or she got stronger, she would come to them, but they saw her no more. After this, two of her little brothers died, and she told me, with tears running down her face, that she saw them cooked, and had to eat them; but added, as though fearful of having committed a crime, 'I could not help it; I had eaten nothing for days, and I was afraid to die.' The poor child's feet were so badly frozen that her toes had dropped off." -- Very dramatic and picturesque have often been the situations of the Mormon sisters. Here is the story of one of them, among the natives of the Society Islands. She says: