that is on
Graves's house; Milton lives there, and likely will keep that. Eddy's
child died last night.

"Feb. 7. Ceased to snow at last; today it is quite pleasant. McCutchen's
child died on the second of this month.

"[This child died and was buried in the Graves's cabin. Mr. W. C. Graves
helped dig the grave near one side of the cabin, and laid the little one
to rest. One of the most heart-rending features of this Donner tragedy
is the number of infants that perished. Mrs. Breen, Mrs. Pike, Mrs.
Foster, Mrs. McCutchen, Mrs. Eddy, and Mrs. Graves each had nursing
babes when the fatal camp was pitched at Donner Lake.]

"Feb. 8. Fine, clear morning. Spitzer died last night, and we will bury
him in the snow; Mrs. Eddy died on the night of the seventh.

"Feb. 9. Mrs. Pike's child all but dead; Milton is at Murphy's, not able
to get out of bed; Mrs. Eddy and child buried today; wind southeast.

"Feb. 10. Beautiful morning; thawing in the sun; Milton Elliott died
last night at Murphy's cabin, and Mrs. Reed went there this morning to
see about his effects. John Denton trying to borrow meat for Graves; had
none to give; they had nothing but hides; all are entirely out of meat,
but a little we have; our hides are nearly all eat up, but with God's
help spring will soon smile upon us."

There was one survivor of the camp at Donner Lake, a man named Lewis
Keseberg, of German descent. That he was guilty of repeated cannibalism
cannot be doubted. It was in his cabin that, after losing all her loved
ones, the heroic Tamsen Donner met her end. Many thought he killed her
for the one horrid purpose. *

* Many years later (1879) Keseberg declared under oath to C. F.
McGlashan that he did not take her life. See "History of the Donner"
Party, pp. 212, 213.

Such then is the story of one of the great emigrant parties who started
West on a hazard of new fortunes in the early days of the Oregon
Trail. Happily there has been no parallel to the misadventures of this
ill-fated caravan. It is difficult--without reading these, bald and
awful details--to realize the vast difference between that day and
this. Today we may by the gentle stages of a pleasant railway journey
arrive at Donner Lake. Little trace remains, nor does any kindly soul
wish for more definite traces, of those awful scenes. Only a cross here
and there with a legend, faint and becoming fainter every year, may be
seen, marking the more prominent spots of the histo