place was always in the middle where Frances and Georgia, snuggling up
close, gave me of their warmth, and from them I learned many things
which I could neither have understood nor remembered had they not made
them plain.

[Illustration: PASS IN THE SIERRA NEVADAS OF CALIFORNIA]

[Illustration: From an old drawing made from description furnished by
Wm. G. Murphy. CAMP AT DONNER LAKE, NOVEMBER, 1846]

Just one happy play is impressed upon my mind. It must have been after
the first storm, for the snow bank in front of the cabin door was not
high enough to keep out a little sunbeam that stole down the steps and
made a bright spot upon our floor. I saw it, and sat down under it,
held it on my lap, passed my hand up and down in its brightness, and
found that I could break its ray in two. In fact, we had quite a
frolic. I fancied that it moved when I did, for it warmed the top of my
head, kissed first one cheek and then the other, and seemed to run up
and down my arm. Finally I gathered up a piece of it in my apron and
ran to my mother. Great was my surprise when I carefully opened the
folds and found that I had nothing to show, and the sunbeam I had left
seemed shorter. After mother explained its nature, I watched it creep
back slowly up the steps and disappear.

Snowy Christmas brought us no "glad tidings," and New Year's Day no
happiness. Yet, each bright day that followed a storm was one of
thanksgiving, on which we all crept up the flight of snow steps and
huddled about on the surface in the blessed sunshine, but with our eyes
closed against its painful and blinding glare.

Once my mother took me to a hole where I saw smoke coming up, and she
told me that its steps led down to Uncle Jacob's tent, and that we
would go down there to see Aunt Betsy and my little cousins.

I stooped low and peered into the dark depths. Then I called to my
cousins to come to me, because I was afraid to go where they were. I
had not seen them since the day we encamped. At that time they were
chubby and playful, carrying water from the creek to their tent in
small tin pails. Now, they were so changed in looks that I scarcely
knew them, and they stared at me as at a stranger. So I was glad when
my mother came up and took me back to our own tent, which seemed less
dreary because I knew the things that were in it, and the faces about
me.

Father's hand became worse. The swelling and inflammation extending up
the arm to the shoulder produce