The Expedition of the Donner Party and its Tragic Fate | Page 5

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 Mexican land-grants in that far land to which we were
bound.
My mother 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.
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 Mr. Francis, to whom they showed it.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Mr. Reed and family, and my uncle Jacob 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.
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 The Springfield Journal.
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