to her that magic thing we call "home," for
men still regarded California as a place to "make their pile" in and
then shake its dust from their feet. Her stay here was very brief, for
her husband had gone at once to Nevada in the hope of getting a
foothold in the silver-mines, which were then "booming," and she
immediately followed him.

From the level green corn-fields of Indiana, the land of her birth, to
the grey sage-brush of the desert and the naked mountains of Nevada
was a long step, but regrets were lost in the absorbing interest of
the new life.

In a canyon high up in the Toyabee Range, about six miles from Reese
River, lay the new mining camp of Austin, then only about a year old.
Reese River, though in summer it dries up in places so that its bed is
only a series of shallow pools, is nevertheless a most picturesque
stream, and Austin is surrounded by mountain scenery of the
stupendous, awe-inspiring sort.

In a little cabin on a mountainside Fanny Osbourne took up her new
life amidst these strange surroundings, which she found most
interesting and exciting. The men, who were generally away from the
camp during the day, working in the mines, were all adventurers--young,
bold men--and though they wore rough clothes, were nearly all college
bred. In Austin and its vicinity there were but six women, and when it
was decided to give a party at another camp miles away, a thorough
scouring of the whole surrounding country produced just seven of the
fair sex. These ladies came in a sleigh, made of a large packing-box
put on runners, to beg the newcomer, Mrs. Osbourne, to join them in
this festivity. Having some pretty clothes she had brought with her,
she hastily dressed by the aid of a shining tin pan which one of the
women held up for her, there being no such thing as a mirror in the
entire camp. Years afterwards, when Mrs. Osbourne was in Paris, she
read in the papers of this woman as having taken the whole first floor
of the Splendide Hotel, which led her to remark: "I wonder if she
remembers when she held the tin pan for me to do my hair!" At the
party there were fifty men and seven women, and no woman danced twice
with the same man. Among the men was a clergyman, who made himself
very agreeable to Mrs. Osbourne. She asked why she had never heard of
him before, and he replied: "You have heard of me, I am sure, but not
by my real name. They call me 'Squinting Jesus'!"

Her pioneer blood now began to show its