In addition to their superior personal attainments, Mr. and Mrs. Chamberlain, each—­for they were cousins—­had the distinction of being first cousins to Daniel Webster, and this fact also served to bring to their home guests of note and culture.  Georgia and I were too closely occupied with lessons to venture often beyond the school-girl precinct, but the intellectual atmosphere which pervaded the house, and the books to which we had access, were of inestimable advantage.  Furthermore, the tuition fees required of non-resident pupils entitled them to choice of district, and we fortunately had selected Jefferson Grammar School, No. 4, in charge of Mr. Henry A. White, one of the ablest educators in the city.

Several resident families had also taken advantage of this privilege, and elected to pay tuition and place their children under his instruction, thus bringing together forty-nine energetic boys and girls to whet each other’s ambition and incite class rivalry.  Among the number were the five clever children of the Hon. Tod Robinson; three sons of Judge Robert Robinson; Colonel Zabriskie’s pretty daughter Annie; Banker Swift’s stately Margaret; General Redding’s two sons; Dr. Oatman’s son Eugene; beloved Nelly Upton, daughter of the editor of The Sacramento Union; Daniel Yost; Agnes Toll, the sweet singer; and Eliza Denison, my chum.

At the end of the term, The Daily Union closed its account of the public examination of Jefferson Grammar School with the following statement:  “Among Mr. White’s pupils are two young ladies, survivors of the terrible disaster which befell the emigration of 1846 among the snows of the California mountains.”

Even this cursory reference was a matter of regret to Georgia and me.  We had entered school silent in regard to personal history, and did not wish public attention turned toward ourselves even in an indirect way, fearing it might lead to a revival of the false and sensational accounts of the past, and we were not prepared to correct them, nor willing they should be spread.  Pursued by these fears, we returned to the ranch, where Elitha and her three black-eyed little daughters welcomed our home-coming and brightened our vacation.

Almost coincident, however, with the foregoing circumstance, Georgia came into possession of “What I Saw in California,” by Edwin Bryant; and we found that the book did contain many facts in connection with our party’s disaster, but they were so interwoven with wild rumors, and the false and sensational statements quoted from The California Star, that they proved nothing, yet gave to the untrue that appearance of truth which is so difficult to correct.