those who were watching from afar; they sang songs, told tales, and for
the time being drove homesickness from our hearts. Then they rode away
in the moonlight, and our past was a sweet memory, our future a
beautiful dream.

William Donner, my half-brother, came to camp early next morning to
help us to get the cattle started, and to accompany us as far as the
outskirts of civilization.

We reached Independence, Missouri, on the eleventh of May, with our
wagons and cattle in prime condition, and our people in the best of
spirits. Our party encamped near that bustling frontier town, and were
soon a part of the busy crowds, making ready for the great prairie on
the morrow. Teams thronged the highways; troops of men, women, and
children hurried nervously about seeking information and replenishing
supplies. Jobbers on the street were crying their wares, anxious to
sell anything or everything required, from a shoestring to a complete
outfit for a four months' journey across the plains. Beads of sweat
clung to the merchants' faces as they rushed to and fro, filling
orders. Brawny blacksmiths, with breasts bared and sleeves rolled high,
hammered and twisted red hot metal into the divers forms necessary to
repair yokes and wagons.

Good fellowship prevailed as strangers met, each anxious to learn
something of those who might by chance become his neighbors in line.

Among the pleasant acquaintances made that day, was Mr. J.Q. Thornton,
a young attorney from Quincy, Illinois, who, with his invalid wife, was
emigrating to Oregon. He informed us that himself and wife and
ex-Governor Boggs and family, of Missouri, were hourly expecting