ere haggard, woe-begone, and sepulchral.
One seldom heard the sound of a voice, and when heard, it was weak,
tremulous, pitiful. Sometimes a child would moan and sob for a mouthful
of food, and the poor, helpless mothers, with breaking hearts, would
have to soothe them, as best they could, with kind words and tender
caresses. Food, there was none. Oh! what words can fitly frame a tribute
for those noble mothers! When strong men gave up, and passively awaited
the delirium of death, the mothers were actively administering to the
wants of the dying, and striving to cheer and comfort the living. Marble
monuments never bore more heroic names than those of Margaret W. Reed,
Lavina Murphy, Elizabeth Graves, Margaret Breen, Tamsen Donner, and
Elizabeth Donner. Their charity, fortitude, and self-sacrifice failed
not in the darkest hour. Death came so often now, that little notice
was taken of his approach, save by these mothers. A dreadful want of
consciousness precedes starvation. The actual death is not so terrible.
The delirious would rave of feasts, and rich viands, and bountiful
stores of food. As the shadows of death more closely enveloped the poor
creatures, the mutterings grew unintelligible, and were interrupted,
now and then, by startled cries of frenzy, which gradually grew fainter,
until the victims finally slumbered. From this slumber there was no
awakening. The breathing became feebler and more irregular, and finally
ceased. It was not so terrible to the unconscious dying, as to the
weeping mother who watched by the sufferer's side.

It was always dark and gloomy enough in the snow-covered cabins,
but during the fierce, wild storms, the desolation became almost
unendurable. The rushing gale, the furious storm, the lashing of
storm-rent pine boughs, or the crash of giant trees overthrown by the
hurricane, filled the souls of the imprisoned emigrants with nameless
dread. Sometimes the silent darkness of the night would shudder with
the howl of the great gray wolves which in those days infested the
mountains. Too well did they know that these gaunt beasts were howling
for the bodies of the living as well as of the dead.

Wood grew plentifully at short distances from the cabins, but for these
weak, starving creatures to obtain it was a herculean task. To go out
when the storms were raging, would be almost impossible for a well,
strong man. To struggle through the deep, loose drifts, reaching
frequently to the waist, r