Sometimes a child would moan and sob for a mouthful
of food, and the poor, helpless mothers, with breaking hearts, would
have to soothe them, as best they could, with kind words and tender
caresses. Food, there was none. Oh! what words can fitly frame a tribute
for those noble mothers! When strong men gave up, and passively awaited
the delirium of death, the mothers were actively administering to the
wants of the dying, and striving to cheer and comfort the living. Marble
monuments never bore more heroic names than those of Margaret W. Reed,
Lavina Murphy, Elizabeth Graves, Margaret Breen, Tamsen Donner, and
Elizabeth Donner. Their charity, fortitude, and self-sacrifice failed
not in the darkest hour. Death came so often now, that little notice was
taken of his approach, save by these mothers. A dreadful want of
consciousness precedes starvation. The actual death is not so terrible.
The delirious would rave of feasts, and rich viands, and bountiful
stores of food. As the shadows of death more closely enveloped the poor
creatures, the mutterings grew unintelligible, and were interrupted, now
and then, by startled cries of frenzy, which gradually grew fainter,
until the victims finally slumbered. From this slumber there was no
awakening. The breathing became feebler and more irregular, and finally
ceased.
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