before I could reach the stirrup, and when I was mounted my feet
only came half-way down the horse's sides. I felt like a fly on
him. The road at first lay through a valley without a river, but
some swampishness nourished some rank swamp grass, the first
GREEN grass I have seen in America; and the pines, with their red
stems, looked beautiful rising out of it. I hurried along, and
came upon the Donner Lake quite suddenly, to be completely
smitten by its beauty. It is only about three miles long by one
and a half broad, and lies hidden away among mountains, with no
dwellings on its shores but some deserted lumberers' cabins.[5]
Its loneliness pleased me well. I did not see man, beast, or
bird from the time I left Truckee till I returned. The
mountains, which rise abruptly from the margin, are covered with
dense pine forests, through which, here and there, strange forms
of bare grey rock, castellated, or needle-like, protrude
themselves. On the opposite side, at a height of about 6,000
feet, a grey, ascending line, from which rumbling, incoherent
sounds occasionally proceeded, is seen through the pines. This
is one of the snow-sheds of the Pacific Railroad, which shuts out
from travelers all that I was seeing. The lake is called after
Mr. Donner, who, with his family, arrived at the Truckee River in
the fall of the year, in company with a party of emigrants bound
for California. Being encumbered with many cattle, he let the
company pass on, and, with his own party of sixteen souls, which
included his wife and four children, encamped by the lake. In
the morning they found themselves surrounded by an expanse of
snow, and after some consultation it was agreed that the whole
party except Mr. Donner who was unwell, his wife, and a German
friend, should take the horses and attempt to cross the mountain,
which, after much peril, they succeeded in doing; but, as the