We left our home in Iowa with three wagons drawn by seven yoke of oxen, - and some cows and horses. The horses were intended for the saddle, as at that time in Iowa, it was thought that horses were not suitable to draw wagons across the Rocky mountains as the country between the Missouri and California.

Two of the wagons were loaded with provisions & the third a light wagon carried the small children and some beds. We crossed the Missouri river at Glascow after a very tedious journey on account of high water as the spring of 1846 was exceeding wet, in that part of the country.

In due time we arrived at a camp called the Lone Elm, across the Missouri line This place was thought to be the limit of civilization, at this camp we met some hunters returning with furs & they gave us some dried buffalo meat and told us that we had no idea of what we would suffer before we reached California. This prediction proved too true - At this camp was a Elm tree the only tree of any kind in sight. I shall never forget the loneliness of the scene boy though I was at time. What made the matter still more lonelier we were only one family not having yet been joined by any other parties crossing the plains that year. Still we were fairly on our way across the plains, and were afterwards joined by other parties.

We left the old emigrant road that passed on the North side of the Great Salt Lake and by the advice of a man named Hastings undertook to find a rout by the south side. Here our real troubles began, we were delayed for near a month in the timbered canyons to the East of the lake, where there was little feed for stock.

On the Humboldt river, J. F. Reed and a man named Snyder quarreled and Snyder was killed; some thought Reed was to blame others that Snyder was in the wrong at all events Reed left the company on horseback and alone leaving his family with the company, I have always thought that this was a misfortune for the whole party as Reed was an intelligent and energetic man, and if he had remained the party might of got through. He said that he would go before and endeavor to send help back as provisions were now getting scarce. Now the truth is that the team was "Stalled" on a sand bank on the Humboldt river; it was Reed's team; Snyder was driving Graves team next to Reeds behind Reed was on the off side of his team assisting his man to get the team to pull. Snyder came up on the nigh side also to assist. Soon there was an altercation between Reed and Snyder. When Snyder called Reed some name and attempted to strike him across the tongue between the oxen and the wagon, Reed jumped across the tongue and stabbed him, Snyder died in a couple of hours. Mrs. Reed had nothing to do with the affair and if she had Snyder would not strike her, for he would not strike a woman at all; He was too much of a man for that. Snyders loss was mourned by the whole company; Still Reed was not blamed by many.

At the last encampment on Truckee river, another life was lost, by the accidental discharge of a pistol. Two men, brothers-in-law, (William Foster and William Pike) had been handling their arms by the camp fire in the morning. Wood to replenish it was called for, when one said to the other, 'hold my pistol while I go for some.' In the transfer, by some means it went off, and the contents lodged in the body of the unfortunate man who lived only two hours. Death did not startle them now. They were too much engrossed by their own necessities to heed his presence, further than naked decency required. They had buried their first dead in a coffin and shroud, with masonic ceremonies, their second with only a shroud and a board beneath and above him. The last man was buried literally dust to dust, nothing to separate his clay from that of the great parent who opened her bosom to receive him.

In the morning it was very cold, with about an inch of snow on the ground. This made us hurry our cattle still more, if possible, than before. We traveled on, and, at last, the clouds cleared, leaving the towering peaks in full view, covered as far as the eye could reach with snow. This sight made us almost despair of ever entering the long-sought valley of the Sacramento; but we pushed on as fast as our failing cattle could haul our almost empty wagons. At last we reached the foot of the main ridge, near Truckee Lake. It was sundown. The weather was clear in the early part of the night; but a large circle around the moon indicated, as we rightly supposed, an approaching storm. Daylight came only to confirm our worst fears. The snow was falling fast on that terrible summit over which we yet had to make our way.

Notwithstanding, we set out early to make an effort to cross. We traveled one or two miles - the snow increasing in depth all the way. At last, it was up to the axle of the wagons. We now concluded to leave them, pack some blankets on the oxen, and push forward; but by the time we got the oxen packed, it was impossible to advance; first, because of the depth of the snow, and next, because we could not find the road; so we hitched to the wagons and returned to the valley again, where we found it raining in torrents. We took possession of a cabin and built a fire in it, but the pine boughs were a poor shelter from the rain, so we turned our cattle at large, and laid down under our wagon covers to pass the night. It cleared off in the night, and this gave us hopes; we were so little acquainted with the country as to believe that the rain in the valley was rain on the mountain also, and that it would beat down the snow that we might possibly go over. In this we were fatally mistaken.

We came to this place on the 31st of last month that it snowed we went on to the pass the snow so deep we were unable to find the road, when within 3 miles of the summit then turned back to this shanty on the Lake. Stanton came one day after we arrived here we again took our teams & waggons & made another unsuccessful attempt to cross in company with Stanton we returned to the shanty it continuing to snow all the time we were here we now have killed most part of our cattle having to stay here until next spring & live on poor beef without bread or salt it snowed during the space of eight days with little intermission, after our arrival here, the remainder of time up to this day was clear & pleasant freezing at night the snow nearly gone from the valleys.

About the first of November 1846 we arrived at what proved to be the first of the main ridge, and camped at the foot of what is now called Donner Lake, It was raining when we stopped, but before morning their was some snow on the ground, we started at daylight, but soon found that the snow increased in depth as we advanced, and after traveling about two miles, it was so deep that the cattle could not go no further and to make matters worse another storm began, so we retraced our steps to the camp of the night before at the lake.

My eldest brother was very weak, and almost at death's door, and my mother went to the Breens, and begged a small piece of meat; just a few mouthfuls. This is in the history recorded by Mr. Breen. I remember the little piece of meat; my mother gave half of it to my dying brother, and he ate it, fell off to sleep, with hollow death-gurgling snore, and when the sound ceased, I went to him, and he was dead - starved to death in my presence. My mother said that if she had known he was going to die, she would have given him the balance of the meat while she was starving too.

One day a man came down the snow-steps of Mrs. Breen's cabin, and fell at full length within the doorway. He was quickly raised, and some broth, made of beef and hide... put into his lifeless lips. It revived him so he spoke. He was a hired driver. His life was of value to no one. Those who would have divided their morsel with him, were in a land of plenty. She said that when a new call was made upon her slender store, and she thought of her children, she felt she could not withhold what she had... The man who had fallen in their door, died with them.

Sunday 17th, January: Eliza came here this morning, sent her back again to Graves. Lanthrom crazy last night.

Tuesday 19th, January: Leggy and Edward sick last night by eating some meat that Delay threw his tobacco on.

Thursday 21st, January: Dantean came this morning with Eliza she won't eat hides. FRS Reed sent her back to live or die on them.

Wednesday 27th, January: Keseberg sick and Lanthrom lying in bed the whole of his time.

Saturday 30th, January: The Graves seized on Mrs Reed's goods until they would be paid also took the hides that she and family had to live on.

Sunday 31st January: Lantron Murphy died last night.

Friday 5th February: Peggy very uneasy for fear we shall all perish with hunger we have but a little meat left and only part of 3 hides has to support Mrs Reed, she has nothing left but one hide and it is on Graves shanty... Eddy's child (Margaret), died last night.

Saturday 6th February: Murphys folks or Keseberg say they can't eat hides. I wish we had enough of them.

Sunday 7th February: William McCutcheon's child (Harriet) died 2nd of this month.

Monday 8th February: Spitzer died last night . . . Mrs Eddy died on the night of the 7th.

Wednesday 10th February: Milt Elliott died last night... Denton trying to borrow meat for Graves had none to give they have nothing but hides all are entirely out of meat but a little we have our hides are nearly all eat up.

Their camp stood about sixty yards from the east end of the lake that’s now called Donner. The snow was about twelve to fourteen feet deep and covered everything. Where the water was there was a broad, clean sheet of snow. No one come up to greet us but when we got nearer and yelled, they came tumbling out of the cabins. They were an awful looking sight - a white and starved looking lot, I can tell you. There were pretty glad to see us. They took on awful, anyhow. Men, women and children crying and praying.

After we was there a bit they told us how the had suffered for months. The food all gone and death taking them on all sides. Then they showed us up into their cabins, and we saw the bodies of them who had gone. Most of the flesh was all stripped off and eaten. The rest was rotten. It was just awful. Ten were already dead and we could see some of the others was going. They were too weak to eat, and our provisions being scant, we thought it were best to let them go and look after the stronger ones.

Their fire had melted the snow to a considerable depth, and the were lying upon the bank above it. Thus they had less of its heat than they needed, and found some difficulty in getting the fuel she gathered, placed so that it could burn... The fire had sunk so far away, that they had felt but little of its warmth the last two nights, and casting her eyes down into the snow-pit, where it sent forth only a dull glow, she thought she saw the welcome face of beloved mother earth. It was such a reviving sight, after their long freezing separation from it! She immediately roused her eldest son, and with at great deal of difficulty, and repeated words of cheering and encouragement, brought him to understand, that she wished him to descend by one of the tree-tops which had fallen in, so as to make a sort of ladder, and see if they could reach the naked earth and if it were possible for them all to go down. She trembled with fear of the vacant silence in which he at first gazed at her, but at long length, after she had told him a great many times, he said, 'yes, mother,' and went. He reached the bottom safely, and presently spoke to her. There was naked dry earth under his feet; it was warm, and he wished her to come down. She laid her baby beside some of the sleepers and descended. Immediately she determined upon taking them all down. ... By persuasion, by entreaty, by encouragement, and with her own aid, she got them all into this snug shelter. At this removal another child was found dead. ... He had a young sister who had set out in comparatively good condition, but was not emaciated and stupefied. The warmth of the fire revived and enlivened her, and when she missed her brother and learned that he was dead, she begged Mr. B. to go up cut a piece off him, for her to eat. 'O chiled,' exclaimed the horror-striken woman, 'sure you would not eat your own brother.' 'O yes I will. Do, Mr. Breen, I am so hungry, and we ate father and uncle at the cabin!' The man dared not resist her entreaty; for he thought, If she should die when her life might be saved by it, the responsibility would be on me! He ascended to the terrible task. His wife, frozen with horror, hid her face in her hands and could not look up. She was conscious of his return, and of something going one about the fire; but she could not bring herself to uncover her eyes till all had subsided again into silence. Her husband remarked, that perhaps they were wrong in rejecting a means of sustaining life, of which others had availed themselves; but she put away the suggestion so fearfully, that it was never renewed nor acted upon by any of her family.

A more shocking scene cannot be imagined, than that witnessed by the party of men who went to the relief of the unfortunate emigrants in the California Mountains. The bones of those who had died and been devoured by the miserable ones that still survived were lying around their tents and cabins. Bodies of men, women and children, with half the flesh torn from them, lay on every side. A woman sat by the body of her husband, who had just died, eating out his tongue; the heart she had already taken out, broiled, and eat! The daughter was seen eating the flesh of the father - the mother that of her children - children that of father and mother. The emaciated, wild, and ghastly appearance of the survivors, added to the horror of the scene. Language cannot describe the awful change that a few weeks of dire suffering had wrought in the minds of these wretched and pitiable beings. Those who but one month before would have shuddered and sickened at the thought of eating human flesh, or of killing their companions and relatives to preserve their own lives, now looked upon the opportunity by these acts afforded them of escaping the most dreadful of deaths, as a providential interference in their behalf. Calculations were coldly made, as they sat gloomily around their gloomy camp fires, for the next and succeeding meals. Various expedients were devised to prevent the dreadful crime of murder, but they finally resolved to kill those who had the least claims to longer existence. Just at this moment, however, as if by Divine interpolation, some of them died, which afforded the rest temporary relief. Some sunk into the arms of death cursing God for their miserable fate, while the last whisperings of others were prayers and songs of praise to the Almighty.

After the first few deaths, but the one all absorbing thought of individual self-preservation prevailed. The fountains of natural affection were dried up. The cords that once vibrated with connubial, parental and filial affection were rent asunder, and each one seemed resolved without regard to the fate of others to escape from the impending calamity. Even the wild hostile mountain Indians, who once visited their camps, pitied them, and instead of pursuing the natural impulse of their hostile feelings to whites, and destroying them as they could easily have done, divided their own scanty supply of food with them.

So changed had the emigrants become that when the party sent out, arrived with food, some of them cast it aside and seemed to prefer the putrid human flesh that still remained. The day before the party arrived, one of the emigrants took a child of about four years of age in bed with him, and devoured the whole before morning; and the next day eat another about the same age before noon.

It is thought that several more of these unfortunate people might have been saved, but for their determination not to leave their property. Some of them who started in, loaded themselves with their money and other effects to such an extent, that they sunk under them and died on the road. According to the best accounts, forty-three died from starvation. They were principally from the neighborhood of Independence, Missouri.

Sunday 17th, January: Eliza came here this morning, sent her back again to Graves. Lanthrom crazy last night.

Tuesday 19th, January: Leggy and Edward sick last night by eating some meat that Delay threw his tobacco on.

Thursday 21st, January: Dantean came this morning with Eliza she won't eat hides. FRS Reed sent her back to live or die on them.

Wednesday 27th, January: Keseberg sick and Lanthrom lying in bed the whole of his time.

Saturday 30th, January: The Graves seized on Mrs Reed's goods until they would be paid also took the hides that she and family had to live on.

Sunday 31st January: Lantron Murphy died last night.

Friday 5th February: Peggy very uneasy for fear we shall all perish with hunger we have but a little meat left and only part of 3 hides has to support Mrs Reed, she has nothing left but one hide and it is on Graves shanty... Eddy's child (Margaret), died last night.

Saturday 6th February: Murphys folks or Keseberg say they can't eat hides. I wish we had enough of them.

Sunday 7th February: William McCutcheon's child (Harriet) died 2nd of this month.

Monday 8th February: Spitzer died last night . . . Mrs Eddy died on the night of the 7th.

Wednesday 10th February: Milt Elliott died last night... Denton trying to borrow meat for Graves had none to give they have nothing but hides all are entirely out of meat but a little we have our hides are nearly all eat up.