NEWS OF THE BRUNNERS--LETTERS FROM GRANDPA.
More than two years had elapsed since we had heard directly from
Sonoma, when, on the day before Thanksgiving, 1860, Judge Robert
Robinson and wife, of Sacramento, came to the ranch, and he, in his
pleasing way, announced that he and Mrs. Robinson had a little story to
tell, and a message to deliver, which would explain why they had
arrived unexpectedly to spend the national holiday with us. Then
seating himself, he bowed to his wife, and listened in corroborative
silence while she related the following incident:
"Last Summer when the Judge went on his circuit, he took the carriage,
and I accompanied him on his travels. One day we stopped for dinner at
the stage station between Sonoma and Santa Rosa. After we had
registered, the proprietor approached us, saying: 'I see you are from
Sacramento, and wonder if you know anything about a couple of young
girls by the name of Downie, who spent some time there in the public
school?' He seemed disappointed when we replied, 'We know Donners, but
not Downies.' 'Well,' he continued, 'they are strangers to me; but I am
interested in them on account of their former connection with an
unfortunate little old German woman who frequently comes in on the
stage that runs between Sonoma and Santa Rosa. She carries their
pictures in her hand-bag and tells a touching story about her happiness
when they lived with her.' Just then the stage stopped before the door,
and he, looking out, exclaimed, 'Why, she is among the passengers
to-day! With your permission, I'll bring her to you.'
"He introduced her as Mrs. Brunner, told her where we were from, and
asked her to show us the picture of her little girls. After shaking
hands with us, she took the seat offered, and nervously drew from her
reticule a handsomely inlaid case, which she opened and handed to us.
An expression of pride and tenderness lighted her worn features as
Judge and I at once exclaimed, pointing to one and then the other,
'Why, this is Georgia, and this, Eliza Donner. We know them well and
call them "our girls" in Sacramento!'"
"She sprang from her seat, and stood with one hand on Judge's shoulder,
and the other on mine, saying earnestly,
"'Yes! You do know my children? Be they well, and doing well?'
"We had to talk fast in order to answer all her questions, and a number
of listeners drew nearer and were considerably affected as the poor old
soul said, 'Please shake hands with me again for them, and tell them
that you talked with their old Grandma Brunner, that loves them now
just the same as when they was little.'
"Judge and I assured her that we would deliver her messages in person,
as soon as we should get time to look you up. After dinner we saw her
reseated in the stage, and the black silk reticule containing the
picture was upon her lap as the stage carried her homeward."
We learned from them further that grandpa had been convicted of
manslaughter and sentenced to San Quentin Prison for a term of eleven
years, and that grandma had been granted a divorce, and awarded all the
property, but was having great trouble because it had since become
involved and was being frittered away in litigation.
The information given by the Robinsons increased our uneasiness for our
trouble-worn friends. Since the tragedy, Georgia and I had often spoken
of them to one another, but to no one else. We knew that few could
understand them as we did, and we refrained from exposing them to
unnecessary criticism. Anxious as we were to comfort them, it was not
in our power to do more than endeavor again to reach them by letter.
The first was despatched to grandma at Sonoma, the day after the
departure of our guests; and shortly before Christmas I posted one to
grandpa. The former was answered quickly, and so pathetically that
brother Ben offered to take us to Sonoma for a visit in the early
Spring and then to see what could be done for grandma.
The letter to grandpa did not reach him until January 27, 1861, but his
reply left San Quentin by Wells-Fargo Express on the twenty-eighth of
January. It was a brave letter, closing with the following mystifying
paragraph:
Though I may be confined by prison walls, I wish those dear to me to
be happy and joyous as they can, and I trust in God to open a way
for me out of here, when I can see you all; which will make us all
very happy.
Your affectionate grandfather,
CHRISTIAN BRUNNER.
His next communication contained a thrilling surprise which cleared the
lurking mystery of his former letter, and expressed such joyous
appreciation of his regained privileges that I once more quote his own
words, from the letter yellowed by age, which lies before me.
SONOMA, _March 25, 1861_
DEAR ELIZA AND GEORGIA:
Your kind and friendly letter reached me about ten days ago, and I
would have responded to the same right away, but waited a few days,
so that I could give you some good news, over which you, my dear
little girls, will surely rejoice, as you take so much interest in
everything which myself concerns. This news is that I am free again.
Last Tuesday I received, through the influence of friends, from the
Governor of the State of California, a full pardon, and am again in
Sonoma; and as soon as I have my business affairs in such a way
settled that I can leave for a week or two, I will come up and see
you. I have much to tell you which you will better understand
through a personal interview than by writing.
Yours friendly,
C. BRUNNER
Georgia and I felt this news was almost too good to be true. We
wondered how soon he would come to see us; wondered also, if he and
grandma had met, and were glad that we had not taken the side of either
against the other.
"What next?" was the pertinent question uppermost in our minds. We
found the answer in _The Sacramento Daily Union_, early in April, under
title of "Romance in Real Life." After a brief review of the troubles
of the Brunners, and reference to their divorcement, the article
announced their recent remarriage.
This gratifying circumstance made our long intended trip to Sonoma
unnecessary, especially since the reunited couple seemed to have
retained the sympathy and loyalty of those who had known them in their
days of prosperity and usefulness.