About this time Georgia and I enjoyed a rare surprise.  On his return from business one day, Mr. Chamberlain announced that a distinguished-appearing young lawyer, S.O.  Houghton by name, had stopped at the bank that afternoon, to learn our address and say that he would call in the evening.  We, knowing that he was the husband of our “little cousin Mary,” were anxious to meet him and to hear of her, whom we had not seen since our journey across the snow.  He came that evening, and told us of the cozy home in San Jose to which he had taken his young wife, and of her wish that we visit them the coming July or August.

Although letters had passed between us, up to this time we had known little of Mary’s girlhood life.  After we parted, in 1847, she was carried through to San Francisco, then called Yerba Buena, where her maimed foot was successfully treated by the surgeon of the United States ship Portsmouth.  The citizens of that place purchased and presented to her the one hundred vara lot Number 38, and the lot adjoining to her brother George.  Mr. Reed was appointed her guardian and given charge of her apportionment of funds realized from the sale of goods brought from her father’s tents.  She became a member of the Reed household in San Jose, and her life must have been cast in pleasant lines, for she always spoke of Mr. and Mrs. Reed with filial affection.  Moreover, her brother had been industrious and prosperous, and had contributed generously to her comfort and happiness.

Some weeks later, we took Mr. Houghton’s report home to Elitha.  We also showed her a recent letter from Mary, sparkling with bright anticipations—­anticipations never to be realized; for we girls were hardly settled on the ranch before a letter came from cousin George Donner, dated Sacramento, June 20, 1860.  From this we learned that he had on that day been summoned to the bedside of his dying sister, and had come from his home on Putah Creek as fast as horse could carry him, yet had failed to catch the bay steamer; and while waiting for the next boat, was writing to us who could best understand his state of mind.

Next, a note from San Jose informed us that Mrs. Mary M. Houghton died June 21, 1860, leaving a namesake, a daughter two weeks old, and that her brother had reached there in time for the funeral.

Of the seven Donners who had survived the disaster, she was the first called by death, and we deeply mourned her loss, and grieved because another little Mary was motherless.  The following August, Mr. Houghton made his first visit to Rancho de los Cazadores, and with fatherly pride, showed the likeness of his little girl, and promised to keep us all in touch with her by letter.