Title: The Exploring Expedition to the Rocky Mountains, Oregon and California
 - To which is Added a Description of the Physical Geography of California, with Recent Notices of the Gold Region from the Latest and Most Authentic Sources
Author: Frémont, John Charles
Language: English
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*** Start of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The Exploring Expedition to the Rocky Mountains, Oregon and California
 - To which is Added a Description of the Physical Geography of California, with Recent Notices of the Gold Region from the Latest and Most Authentic Sources" ***


  FIFTEENTH THOUSAND.

  THE
  EXPLORING EXPEDITION
  TO THE
  ROCKY MOUNTAINS,
  OREGON AND CALIFORNIA,


  BY BREVET COL. J.C. FREMONT.


  TO WHICH IS ADDED A DESCRIPTION OF THE
  PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY OF CALIFORNIA.

  WITH RECENT NOTICES OF
  THE GOLD REGION
  FROM THE LATEST AND MOST AUTHENTIC SOURCES.

  1852


*       *       *       *       *


PREFACE.

No work has appeared from the American press within the past few years
better calculated to interest the community at large than Colonel J.C.
Fremont's Narrative of his Exploring Expedition to the Rocky Mountains,
Oregon, and North California, undertaken by the orders of the United
States government.

Eminently qualified for the task assigned him, Colonel Fremont entered
upon his duties with alacrity, and has embodied in the following pages
the results of his observations. The country thus explored is daily
making deeper and more abiding impressions upon the minds of the
people, and information is eagerly sought in regard to its natural
resources, its climate, inhabitants, productions, and adaptation for
supplying the wants and providing the comforts for a dense population.
The day is not far distant when that territory, hitherto so little
known, will be intersected by railroads, its waters navigated, and its
fertile portions peopled by an active and intelligent population.

To all persons interested in the successful extension of our free
institutions over this now wilderness portion of our land, this work of
Fremont commends itself as a faithful and accurate statement of the
present state of affairs in that country.

Since the preparation of this report, Colonel Fremont has been engaged
in still farther explorations by order of the government, the results
of which will probably be presented to the country as soon as he shall
be relieved from his present arduous and responsible station. He is now
engaged in active military service in New Mexico, and has won
imperishable renown by his rapid and successful subjugation of that
country.

of government, but it is one that can be relied upon for its accuracy.

July, 1847.



*       *       *       *       *


ADVERTISEMENT TO THE NEW EDITION.

The dreams of the visionary have "come to pass!" the unseen El Dorado
of the "fathers" looms, in all its virgin freshness and beauty, before
the eyes of their children! The "set time" for the Golden age, the
advent of which has been looked for and longed for during many
centuries of iron wrongs and hardships, has fully come. In the sunny
clime of the south west--in Upper California--may be found the modern
Canaan, a land "flowing with milk and honey," its mountains studded and
its rivers lined and choked, with gold!

He who would know more of this rich and rare land before commencing his
pilgrimage to its golden bosom, will find, in the last part of this new
edition of a most deservedly popular work, a succinct yet comprehensive
account of its inexhaustible riches and its transcendent loveliness,
and a fund of much needed information in regard to the several routes
which lead to its inviting borders.

January 1849.



*       *       *       *       *


  A REPORT

  ON

  AN EXPLORATION OF THE COUNTRY
  LYING BETWEEN THE
  MISSOURI RIVER AND THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS,

  ON THE LINE OF THE
  KANSAS AND GREAT PLATTE RIVERS.



*       *       *       *       *


Washington, March 1, 1843.

To Colonel J.J. Abert, _Chief of the Corps of Top. Eng._

Sir: Agreeably to your orders to explore and report upon the country
between the frontiers of Missouri and the South Pass in the Rocky
Mountains, and on the line of the Kansas and Great Platte rivers, I set
out from Washington city on the 2d day of May, 1842, and arrived at St.
Louis by way of New York, the 22d of May, where the necessary
preparations were completed, and the expedition commenced. I proceeded
in a steamboat to Chouteau's landing, about four hundred miles by water
from St. Louis, and near the mouth of the Kansas river, whence we
proceeded twelve miles to Mr. Cyprian Chouteau's trading-house, where
we completed our final arrangements for the expedition.

Bad weather, which interfered with astronomical observations, delayed
us several days in the early part of June at this post, which is on the
right bank of the Kansas river, about ten miles above the mouth, and
six beyond the western boundary of Missouri. The sky cleared off at
length and we were enabled to determine our position, in longitude 90°
25' 46", and latitude 39° 5' 57". The elevation above the sea is about
700 feet. Our camp, in the mean time, presented an animated and
bustling scene. All were busily engaged in completing the necessary
arrangements for our campaign in the wilderness, and profiting by this
short stay on the verge of civilization, to provide ourselves with all
the little essentials to comfort in the nomadic life we were to lead
for the ensuing summer months. Gradually, however, every thing--the
_materiel_ of the camp--men, horses, and even mules--settled into its
place; and by the 10th we were ready to depart; but, before we mount
our horses, I will give a short description of the party with which I
performed the service.

I had collected in the neighborhood of St. Louis twenty-one men,
principally Creole and Canadian _voyageurs_, who had become familiar
with prairie life in the service of the fur companies in the Indian
country. Mr. Charles Preuss, native of Germany, was my assistant in the
topographical part of the survey; L. Maxwell, of Kaskaskia, had been
engaged as hunter, and Christopher Carson (more familiarly known, for
his exploits in the mountains, as Kit Carson) was our guide. The
persons engaged in St. Louis were:

Clement Lambert, J.B. L'Esperance, J.B. Lefevre, Benjamin Potra, Louis
Gouin, J.B. Dumes, Basil Lajeunesse, François Tessier, Benjamin
Cadotte, Joseph Clement, Daniel Simonds, Leonard Benoit, Michel Morly,
Baptiste Bernier, Honore Ayot, François La Tulipe, Francis Badeau,
Louis Menard, Joseph Ruelle, Moise Chardonnais, Auguste Janisse,
Raphael Proue.

In addition to these, Henry Brant, son of Col. J.B. Brant, of St.
Louis, a young man of nineteen years of age, and Randolph, a lively boy
of twelve, son of the Hon. Thomas H. Benton, accompanied me, for the
development of mind and body such an expedition would give. We were
well armed and mounted, with the exception of eight men, who conducted
as many carts, in which were packed our stores, with the baggage and
instruments, and which were drawn by two mules. A few loose horses, and
four oxen, which had been added to our stock of provisions, completed
the train. We set out on the morning of the 10th, which happened to be
Friday, a circumstance which our men did not fail to remember and
recall during the hardships and vexations of the ensuing journey. Mr.
Cyprian Chouteau, to whose kindness, during our stay at his house, we
were much indebted, accompanied us several miles on our way, until we
met an Indian, whom he had engaged to conduct us on the first thirty or
forty miles, where he was to consign us to the ocean of prairie, which,
we were told, stretched without interruption almost to the base of the
Rocky Mountains.

From the belt of wood which borders the Kansas, in which we had passed
several good-looking Indian farms, we suddenly emerged on the prairies,
which received us at the outset with some of their striking
characteristics; for here and there rode an Indian, and but a few miles
distant heavy clouds of smoke were rolling before the fire. In about
ten miles we reached the Santa Fé road, along which we continued for a
short time, and encamped early on a small stream--having traveled about
eleven miles. During our journey, it was the customary practice to
encamp an hour or two before sunset, when the carts were disposed so as
to form a sort of barricade around a circle some eighty yards in
diameter. The tents were pitched, and the horses hobbled and turned
loose to graze; and but a few minutes elapsed before the cooks of the
messes, of which there were four, were busily engaged in preparing the
evening meal. At nightfall, the horses, mules, and oxen were driven in
and picketed,--that is, secured by a halter, of which one end was tied
to a small steel-shod picket, and driven into the ground; the halter
being twenty or thirty feet long, which enabled them to obtain a little
food during the night. When we had reached a part of the country where
such a precaution became necessary, the carts being regularly arranged
for defending the camp, guard was mounted at eight o'clock, consisting
of three men, who were relieved every two hours--the morning-watch
being horse-guard for the day. At daybreak the camp was roused, the
animals turned loose to graze, and breakfast generally over between six
and seven o'clock, when we resumed our march, making regularly a halt
at noon for one or two hours. Such was usually the order of the day,
except when accident of country forced a variation; which, however,
happened but rarely. We traveled the next day along the Santa Fé road,
which we left in the afternoon, and encamped late in the evening on a
small creek, called by the Indians, Mishmagwi. Just as we arrived at
camp, one of the horses set off at full speed on his return, and was
followed by others. Several men were sent in pursuit, and returned with
the fugitives about midnight, with the exception of one man, who did
not make his appearance until morning. He had lost his way in the
darkness of the night, and slept on the prairie. Shortly after midnight
it began to rain heavily, and, as our tents were of light and thin
cloth, they offered but little obstruction to the rain: we were all
well soaked, and glad when morning came. We had a rainy march on the
12th, but the weather grew fine as the day advanced. We encamped in a
remarkably beautiful situation on the Kansas bluffs, which commanded a
fine view of the river valley, here from four to five miles wide. The
central portion was occupied by a broad belt of heavy timber, and
nearer the hills the prairies were of the richest verdure. One of the
oxen was killed here for food.

We reached the ford of the Kansas late in the afternoon of the 14th,
where the river was two hundred and thirty yards wide, and commenced,
immediately, preparations for crossing. I had expected to find the
river fordable; but it had swollen by the late rains, and was sweeping
by with an angry current, yellow and turbid as the Missouri. Up to this
point the road we had traveled was a remarkably fine one, well beaten,
and level--the usual road of a prairie country. By our route, the ford
was one hundred miles from the mouth of the Kansas river. Several
mounted men led the way into the stream to swim across. The animals
were driven in after them, and in a few minutes all had reached the
opposite bank in safety, with the exception of the oxen, which swam
some distance down the river, and, returning to the right bank, were
not got over till the next morning. In the mean time, the carts had
been unloaded and dismantled, and an India-rubber boat, which I had
brought with me for the survey of the Platte river, placed in the
water. The boat was twenty feet long and five broad, and on it were
placed the body and wheels of a cart, with the load belonging to it,
and three men with paddles.

The velocity of the current, and the inconvenient freight, rendering it
difficult to be managed, Basil Lajeunesse, one of our best swimmers,
took in his teeth a line attached to the boat, and swam ahead in order
to reach a footing as soon as possible, and assist in drawing her over.
In this manner six passages had been successfully made, and as many
carts with their contents, and a greater portion of the party,
deposited on the left bank; but night was drawing near, and, in our
anxiety to have all over before the darkness closed in, I put upon the
boat the remaining two carts, with their accompanying load. The man at
the helm was timid on water, and in his alarm capsized the boat. Carts,
barrels, boxes, and bales, were in a moment floating down the current;
but all the men who were on the shore jumped into the water, without
stopping to think if they could swim, and almost every thing--even
heavy articles, such as guns and lead--was recovered.

Two of the men who could not swim came nigh being drowned, and all the
sugar belonging to one of the messes wasted its sweets on the muddy
waters; but our heaviest loss was a large bag of coffee, which
contained nearly all our provision. It was a loss which none but a
traveler in a strange and inhospitable country can appreciate; and
often afterward, when excessive toil and long marching had overcome us
with fatigue and weariness, we remembered and mourned over our loss in
the Kansas. Carson and Maxwell had been much in the water yesterday,
and both, in consequence, were taken ill. The former continuing so, I
remained in camp. A number of Kansas Indians visited us to-day. Going
up to one of the groups who were scattered among the trees, I found one
sitting on the ground, among some of the men, gravely and fluently
speaking French, with as much facility and as little embarrassment as
any of my own party, who were nearly all of French origin.

On all sides was heard the strange language of his own people, wild,
and harmonizing well with their appearance. I listened to him for some
time with feelings of strange curiosity and interest. He was now
apparently thirty-five years of age; and, on inquiry, I learned that he
had been at St. Louis when a boy, and there had learned the French
language. From one of the Indian women I obtained a fine cow and calf
in exchange for a yoke of oxen. Several of them brought us vegetables,
pumpkins, onions, beans, and lettuce. One of them brought butter, and
from a half-breed near the river, I had the good fortune to obtain some
twenty or thirty pounds of coffee. The dense timber in which we had
encamped interfered with astronomical observations, and our wet and
damaged stores required exposure to the sun. Accordingly, the tents
were struck early the next morning, and, leaving camp at six o'clock,
we moved about seven miles up the river, to a handsome, open prairie,
some twenty feet above the water, where the fine grass afforded a
luxurious repast to our horses.

During the day we occupied ourselves in making astronomical
observations, in order to lay down the country to this place; it being
our custom to keep up our map regularly in the field, which we found
attended with many advantages. The men were kept busy in drying the
provisions, painting the cart covers, and otherwise completing our
equipage, until the afternoon, when powder was distributed to them, and
they spent some hours in firing at a mark. We were now fairly in the
Indian country, and it began to be time to prepare for the chances of
the wilderness.

17th.--The weather yesterday had not permitted us to make the
observations I was desirous to obtain here, and I therefore did not
move to-day. The people continued their target firing. In the steep
bank of the river here, were nests of innumerable swallows, into one of
which a large prairie snake had got about half his body, and was
occupied in eating the young birds. The old ones were flying about in
great distress, darting at him, and vainly endeavoring to drive him
off. A shot wounded him, and, being killed, he was cut open, and
eighteen young swallows were found in his body. A sudden storm, that
burst upon us in the afternoon, cleared away in a brilliant sunset,
followed by a clear night, which enabled us to determine our position
in longitude 95° 38' 05", and in latitude 39° 06' 40".

A party of emigrants to the Columbia river, under the charge of Dr.
White, an agent of the government in Oregon Territory, were about three
weeks in advance of us. They consisted of men, women, and children.
There were sixty-four men, and sixteen or seventeen families. They had
a considerable number of cattle, and were transporting their household
furniture in large, heavy wagons. I understood that there had been much
sickness among them, and that they had lost several children. One of
the party who had lost his child, and whose wife was very ill, had left
them about one hundred miles hence on the prairies; and as a hunter,
who had accompanied them, visited our camp this evening, we availed
ourselves of his return to the States to write to our friends.

The morning of the 18th was very unpleasant. A fine rain was falling,
with cold wind from the north, and mists made the river hills look dark
and gloomy. We left our camp at seven, journeying along the foot of the
hills which border the Kansas valley, generally about three miles wide,
and extremely rich. We halted for dinner, after a march of about
thirteen miles, on the banks of one of the many little tributaries to
the Kansas, which look like trenches in the prairie, and are usually
well timbered. After crossing this stream, I rode off some miles to the
left, attracted by the appearance of a cluster of huts near the mouth
of the Vermilion. It was a large but deserted Kansas village, scattered
in an open wood, along the margin of the stream, chosen with the
customary Indian fondness for beauty of scenery. The Pawnees had
attacked it in the early spring. Some of the houses were burnt, and
others blackened with smoke, and weeds were already getting possession
of the cleared places. Riding up the Vermilion river, I reached the
ford in time to meet the carts, and, crossing, encamped on its western
side. The weather continued cold, the thermometer being this evening as
low as 49°; but the night was sufficiently clear for astronomical
observations, which placed us in longitude 96° 04' 07", and latitude
39° 15' 19". At sunset, the barometer was at 28.845, thermometer 64°.

We breakfasted the next morning at half-past five, and left our
encampment early. The morning was cool, the thermometer being at 45°.
Quitting the river bottom, the road ran along the uplands, over a
rolling country, generally in view of the Kansas from eight to twelve
miles distant. Many large boulders, of a very compact sandstone, of
various shades of red, some of them of four or five tons in weight,
were scattered along the hills; and many beautiful plants in flower,
among which the _amorpha canescens_ was a characteristic, enlivened the
green of the prairie. At the heads of the ravines I remarked,
occasionally, thickets of _saix longifolia_, the most common willow of
the country. We traveled nineteen miles and pitched our tents at
evening on the head-waters of a small creek, now nearly dry, but having
in its bed several fine springs. The barometer indicated a considerable
rise in the country--here about fourteen hundred feet above the
sea--and the increased elevation appeared already to have some slight
influence upon vegetation. The night was cold, with a heavy dew; the
thermometer at 10 P.M. standing at 46°, barometer 28.483. Our position
was in longitude 96° 14' 49", and latitude 39° 30' 40".

The morning of the 20th was fine, with a southerly breeze and a bright
sky; and at seven o'clock we were on the march. The country to-day was
rather more broken, rising still, and covered everywhere with fragments
of silicious limestone, particularly on the summits, where they were
small, and thickly strewed as pebbles on the shore of the sea. In these
exposed situations grew but few plants; though, whenever the soil was
good and protected from the winds, in the creek bottoms and ravines,
and on the slopes, they flourished abundantly; among them the
_amorpha_, still retaining its characteristic place. We crossed, at 10
A.M. the Big Vermilion, which has a rich bottom of about one mile in
breadth, one-third of which is occupied by timber. Making our usual
halt at noon, after a day's march of twenty-four miles, we reached the
Big Blue, and encamped on the uplands of the western side, near a small
creek, where was a fine large spring of very cold water. This is a
clear and handsome stream, about one hundred and twenty feet wide,
running with a rapid current, through a well-timbered valley. To-day
antelope were seen running over the hills, and at evening Carson
brought us a fine deer. Longitude of the camp 96° 32' 35", latitude 39°
45' 08". Thermometer at sunset 75°. A pleasant southerly breeze and
fine morning had given place to a gale, with indications of bad
weather; when, after a march of ten miles, we halted to noon on a small
creek, where the water stood in deep pools. In the bank of the creek
limestone made its appearance in a stratum about one foot thick. In the
afternoon, the people seemed to suffer for want of water. The road led
along a high dry ridge; dark lines of timber indicated the heads of
streams in the plains below; but there was no water near, and the day
was oppressive, with a hot wind, and the thermometer at 90°. Along our
route the _amorpha_ has been in very abundant but variable bloom--in
some places bending beneath the weight of purple clusters; in others
without a flower. It seemed to love best the sunny slopes, with a dark
soil and southern exposure. Everywhere the rose is met with, and
reminds us of cultivated gardens and civilization. It is scattered over
the prairies in small bouquets, and, when glittering in the dews and
waving in the pleasant breeze of the early morning, is the most
beautiful of the prairie flowers. The _artemisia_, absinthe, or prairie
sage, as it is variously called, is increasing in size, and glittering
like silver, as the southern breeze turns up its leaves to the sun. All
these plants have their insect inhabitants, variously colored--taking
generally the hue of the flower on which they live. The _artemisia_ has
its small fly accompanying it through every change of elevation and
latitude; and wherever I have seen the _asclepias tuberosa_, I have
always remarked, too, on the flower a large butterfly, so nearly
resembling it in color as to be distinguishable at a little distance
only by the motion of its wings. Traveling on, the fresh traces of the
Oregon emigrants relieve a little the loneliness of the road; and
to-night, after a march of twenty-two miles, we halted on a small creek
which had been one of their encampments. As we advanced westward, the
soil appears to be getting more sandy; and the surface rock, an erratic
deposite of sand and gravel, rests here on a bed of coarse yellow and
gray and very friable sandstone. Evening closed over with rain and its
usual attendant hordes of mosquitoes, with which we were annoyed for
the first time.

22d.--We enjoyed at breakfast this morning a luxury, very unusual in
this country, in a cup of excellent coffee, with cream, from our cow.
Being milked at night, cream was thus had in the morning. Our mid-day
halt was at Wyeth's creek, in the bed of which were numerous boulders
of dark, ferruginous sandstone, mingled with others of the red
sandstone already mentioned. Here a pack of cards, lying loose on the
grass, marked an encampment of our Oregon emigrants; and it was at the
close of the day when we made our bivouac in the midst of some
well-timbered ravines near the Little Blue, twenty-four miles from our
camp of the preceding night. Crossing the next morning a number of
handsome creeks, with water clear and sandy beds we reached, at 10
A.M., a very beautiful wooded stream, about thirty-five feet wide,
called Sandy creek, and sometimes, as the Ottoes frequently winter
there, the Otto fork. The country has become very sandy, and the plants
less varied and abundant, with the exception of the _amorpha_, which
rivals the grass in quantity, though not so forward as it has been
found to the eastward.

At the Big Trees, where we had intended to noon, no water was to be
found. The bed of the little creek was perfectly dry, and, on the
adjacent sandy bottom, _cacti_, for the first time made their
appearance. We made here a short delay in search of water; and, after a
hard day's march of twenty-eight miles, encamped, at 5 o'clock, on the
Little Blue, where our arrival made a scene of the Arabian desert. As
fast as they arrived men and horses rushed into the stream, where they
bathed and drank together in common enjoyment. We were now in the range
of the Pawnees, who were accustomed to infest this part of the country,
stealing horses from companies on their way to the mountains; and, when
in sufficient force, openly attacking and plundering them, and
subjecting them to various kinds of insult. For the first time,
therefore, guard was mounted to-night. Our route the next morning lay
up the valley, which, bordered by hills with graceful slopes, looked
uncommonly green and beautiful. The stream was about fifty feet wide,
and three or four deep, fringed by cotton-wood and willow, with
frequent groves of oak, tenanted by flocks of turkeys. Game here, too,
made its appearance in greater plenty. Elk were frequently seen on the
hills, and now and then an antelope bounded across our path, or a deer
broke from the groves. The road in the afternoon was over the upper
prairies, several miles from the river, and we encamped at sunset on
one of its small tributaries, where an abundance of prele (_equisetum_)
afforded fine forage to our tired animals. We had traveled thirty-one
miles. A heavy bank of black clouds in the west came on us in a storm
between nine and ten, preceded by a violent wind. The rain fell in such
torrents that it was difficult to breathe facing the wind; the thunder
rolled incessantly, and the whole sky was tremulous with lightning--now
and then illuminated by a blinding flash, succeeded by pitchy darkness.
Carson had the watch from ten to midnight, and to him had been assigned
our young _compagnons de voyage_, Messrs. Brant and R. Benton. This was
their first night on guard, and such an introduction did not augur very
auspiciously of the pleasures of the expedition. Many things conspired
to render their situation uncomfortable; stories of desperate and
bloody Indian fights were rife in the camp; our position was badly
chosen, surrounded on all sides by timbered hollows, and occupying an
area of several hundred feet, so that necessarily the guards were far
apart; and now and then I could hear Randolph, as if relieved by the
sound of a voice in the darkness, calling out to the sergeant of the
guard, to direct his attention to some imaginary alarm; but they stood
it out, and took their turn regularly afterwards.

The next morning we had a specimen of the false alarms to which all
parties in these wild regions are subject. Proceeding up the valley,
objects were seen on the opposite hills, which disappeared before a
glass could be brought to bear upon them. A man who was a short
distance in the rear, came springing up in great haste, shouting
"Indians! Indians!" He had been near enough to see and count them,
according to his report, and had made out twenty-seven. I immediately
halted; arms were examined and put in order; the usual preparations
made; and Kit Carson, springing upon one of the hunting horses, crossed
the river, and galloped off into the opposite prairies, to obtain some
certain intelligence of their movements.

Mounted on a fine horse, without a saddle, and scouring bare-headed
over the prairies, Kit was one of the finest pictures of a horseman I
have ever seen. A short time enabled him to discover that the Indian
war-party of twenty-seven consisted of six elk, who had been gazing
curiously at our caravan as it passed by, and were now scampering off
at full speed. This was our first alarm, and its excitement broke
agreeably on the monotony of the day. At our noon halt, the men were
exercised at a target; and in the evening we pitched our tents at a
Pawnee encampment of last July. They had apparently killed buffalo
here, as many bones were lying about, and the frames where the hides
had been stretched were yet standing. The road of the day had kept the
valley, which is sometimes rich and well timbered, though the country
generally is sandy. Mingled with the usual plants, a thistle (_carduus
leucographus_) had for the last day or two made its appearance; and
along the river bottom, _tradescantia_ (virginica) and milk plant
(_asclepias syriaca_) [Footnote: This plant is very odoriferous, and in
Canada charms the traveler, especially when passing through woods in
the evening. The French there eat the tender shoots in the spring, as
we do asparagus. The natives make a sugar of the flowers, gathering
them in the morning when they are covered with dew, and collect the
cotton from their pods to fill their beds. On account of the silkiness
of this cotton, Parkinson calls the plant Virginian silk.--_Loudon's
Encyclopædia of Plants_.

The Sioux Indians of the Upper Platte eat the young pods of this plant,
boiling them with the meat of the buffalo.] in considerable quantities.

Our march to-day had been twenty-one miles, and the astronomical
observations gave us a chronometric longitude of 98° 22' 12", and
latitude 40° 26' 50". We were moving forward at seven in the morning,
and in about five miles reached a fork of the Blue, where the road
leaves that river, and crosses over to the Platte. No water was to be
found on the dividing ridge, and the casks were filled, and the animals
here allowed a short repose. The road led across a high and level
prairie ridge, where were but few plants, and those principally
thistle, (_carduus leucographus_,) and a kind of dwarf artemisia.
Antelope were seen frequently during the morning, which was very
stormy. Squalls of rain, with thunder and lightning, were around us in
every direction; and while we were enveloped in one of them, a flash,
which seemed to scorch our eyes as it passed, struck in the prairie
within a few hundred feet, sending up a column of dust.

Crossing on the way several Pawnee roads to the Arkansas, we reached,
in about twenty-one miles from our halt on the Blue, what is called the
coast of the Nebraska, or Platte river. This had seemed in the distance
a range of high and broken hills; but on a nearer approach was found to
be elevations of forty to sixty feet into which the wind had worked the
sand. They were covered with the usual fine grasses of the country, and
bordered the eastern side of the ridge on a breadth of about two miles.
Change of soil and country appeared here to have produced some change
in the vegetation. _Cacti_ were numerous, and all the plants of the
region appeared to flourish among the warm hills. Among them the
_amorpha_, in full bloom, was remarkable for its large and luxuriant
purple clusters. From the foot of the coast, a distance of two miles
across the level bottom brought us to our encampment on the shore of
the river, about twenty miles below the head of Grand Island, which lay
extended before us, covered with dense and heavy woods. From the mouth
of the Kansas, according to our reckoning, we had traveled three
hundred and twenty-eight miles; and the geological formation of the
country we had passed over consisted of lime and sand stone, covered by
the same erratic deposits of sand and gravel which forms the surface
rock of the prairies between the Missouri and Mississippi rivers.
Except in some occasional limestone boulders, I had met with no
fossils. The elevation of the Platte valley above the sea is here about
two thousand feet. The astronomical observations of the night placed us
in longitude 98° 45' 49", latitude 40° 41' 06".

27th.--The animals were somewhat fatigued by their march of yesterday,
and, after a short journey of eighteen miles along the river bottom, I
encamped near the head of Grand Island, in longitude, by observation,
99° 05' 24", latitude 40° 39' 32". The soil was here light but rich,
though in some places rather sandy; and, with the exception of
scattered fringe along the bank, the timber, consisting principally of
poplar, (_populus moniliefera_,) elm, and hackberry, (_celtis
crassifolia_,) is confined almost entirely to the islands.

28th.--We halted to noon at an open reach of the river, which occupies
rather more than a fourth of the valley, here only about four miles
broad. The camp had been disposed with the usual precaution, the horses
grazing at a little distance, attended by the guard, and we were all
sitting quietly at our dinner on the grass, when suddenly we heard the
startling cry, "Du monde!" In an instant, every man's weapon was in his
hand, the horses were driven in, hobbled and picketed, and horsemen
were galloping at full speed in the direction of the newcomers,
screaming and yelling with the wildest excitement. "Get ready, my
lads!" said the leader of the approaching party to his men, when our
wild looking horsemen were discovered bearing down upon them--"nous
allons attraper des coups de baguette." They proved to be a small party
of fourteen, under the charge of a man named John Lee, and, with their
baggage and provisions strapped to their backs, were making their way
on foot to the frontier. A brief account of their fortunes will give
some idea of navigation in the Nebraska. Sixty days since, they had
left the mouth of Laramie's fork, some three hundred miles above, in
barges laden with the furs of the American Fur Company. They started
with the annual flood, and, drawing but nine inches water, hoped to
make a speedy and prosperous voyage to St. Louis; but, after a lapse of
forty days, found themselves only one hundred and thirty miles from
their point of departure. They came down rapidly as far as Scott's
bluffs, where their difficulties began. Sometimes they came upon places
where the water was spread over a great extent, and here they toiled
from morning until night, endeavoring to drag their boat through the
sands, making only two or three miles in as many days. Sometimes they
would enter an arm of the river, where there appeared a fine channel,
and, after descending prosperously for eight or ten miles, would come
suddenly upon dry sands, and be compelled to return, dragging their
boat for days against the rapid current; and at others, they came upon
places where the water lay in holes, and, getting out to float off
their boat, would fall into water up to their necks, and the next
moment tumble over against a sandbar. Discouraged at length, and
finding the Platte growing every day more shallow, they discharged the
principal part of their cargoes one hundred and thirty miles below Fort
Laramie, which they secured as well as possible, and, leaving a few men
to guard them, attempted to continue their voyage, laden with some
light furs and their personal baggage. After fifteen or twenty days
more struggling in the sands, during which they made but one hundred
and forty miles, they sunk their barges, made a _cache_ of their
remaining furs and property in trees on the bank, and, packing on his
back what each man could carry, had commenced, the day before we
encountered them, their journey on foot to St. Louis. We laughed then
at their forlorn and vagabond appearance, and, in our turn, a month or
two afterwards, furnished the same occasion for merriment to others.
Even their stock of tobacco, that _sine qua non_ of a voyageur, without
which the night fire is gloomy, was entirely exhausted. However, we
shortened their homeward journey by a small supply from our own
provision. They gave us the welcome intelligence that the buffalo were
abundant some two days' march in advance, and made us a present of some
choice pieces, which were a very acceptable change from our salt pork.
In the interchange of news, and the renewal of old acquaintanceships,
we found wherewithal to fill a busy hour; then we mounted our horses
and they shouldered their packs, and we shook hands and parted. Among
them, I had found an old companion on the northern prairie, a hardened
and hardly served veteran of the mountains, who had been as much hacked
and scarred as an old moustache of Napoleon's "old guard."  He
flourished in the sobriquet of La Tulipe, and his real name I never
knew. Finding that he was going to the States only because his company
was bound in that direction, and that he was rather more willing to
return with me, I took him again into my service. We traveled this day
but seventeen miles.

At our evening camp, about sunset, three figures were discovered
approaching, which our glasses made out to be Indians. They proved to
be Cheyennes--two men, and a boy of thirteen. About a month since, they
had left their people on the south fork of the river, some three
hundred miles to the westward, and a party of only four in number had
been to the Pawnee villages on a horse-stealing excursion, from which
they were returning unsuccessful. They were miserably mounted on wild
horses from the Arkansas plains, and had no other weapons than bows and
long spears; and had they been discovered by the Pawnees, could not, by
any possibility, have escaped. They were mortified by their
ill-success, and said the Pawnees were cowards, who shut up their
horses in their lodges at night. I invited them to supper with me, and
Randolph and the young Cheyenne, who had been eyeing each other
suspiciously and curiously, soon became intimate friends. After supper
we sat down on the grass, and I placed a sheet of paper between us, on
which they traced, rudely, but with a certain degree of relative truth,
the water-courses of the country which lay between us and their
villages, and of which I desired to have some information. Their
companions, they told us, had taken a nearer route over the hills; but
they had mounted one of the summits to spy out the country, whence they
had caught a glimpse of our party, and, confident of good treatment at
the hands of the whites, hastened to join company. Latitude of the camp
40° 39' 51".

We made the next morning sixteen miles. I remarked that the ground was
covered in many places with an efflorescence of salt, and the plants
were not numerous. In the bottoms were frequently seen tradescantia,
and on the dry lenches were carduus, cactus, and amorpha. A high wind
during the morning had increased to a violent gale from the northwest,
which made our afternoon ride cold and unpleasant. We had the welcome
sight of two buffaloes on one of the large islands, and encamped at a
clump of timber about seven miles from our noon halt, after a day's
march of twenty-two miles.

The air was keen the next morning at sunrise, the thermometer standing
at 44°, and it was sufficiently cold to make overcoats very
comfortable. A few miles brought us into the midst of the buffalo,
swarming in immense numbers over the plains, where they had left
scarcely a blade of grass standing. Mr. Preuss, who was sketching at a
little distance in the rear, had at first noted them as large groves of
timber. In the sight of such a mass of life, the traveler feels a
strange emotion of grandeur. We had heard from a distance a dull and
confused murmuring, and, when we came in view of their dark masses,
there was not one among us who did not feel his heart beat quicker. It
was the early part of the day, when the herds are feeding; and
everywhere they were in motion. Here and there a huge old bull was
rolling in the grass, and clouds of dust rose in the air from various
parts of the bands, each the scene of some obstinate fight. Indians and
buffalo make the poetry and life of the prairie, and our camp was full
of their exhilaration. In place of the quiet monotony of the march,
relieved only by the cracking of the whip, and an "avance donc! enfant
de garce!" shouts and songs resounded from every part of the line, and
our evening camp was always the commencement of a feast, which
terminated only with our departure on the following morning. At any
time of the night might be seen pieces of the most delicate and
choicest meat, roasting _en appolas_, on sticks around the fire, and
the guard were never without company. With pleasant weather and no
enemy to fear, an abundance of the most excellent meat, and no scarcity
of bread or tobacco, they were enjoying the oasis of a voyageur's life.
Three cows were killed to-day. Kit Carson had shot one, and was
continuing the chase in the midst of another herd, when his horse fell
headlong, but sprang up and joined the flying band. Though considerably
hurt, he had the good fortune to break no bones; and Maxwell, who was
mounted on a fleet hunter, captured the runaway after a hard chase. He
was on the point of shooting him, to avoid the loss of his bridle, (a
handsomely mounted Spanish one,) when he found that his horse was able
to come up with him. Animals are frequently lost in this way; and it is
necessary to keep close watch over them, in the vicinity of the
buffalo, in the midst of which they scour off to the plains, and are
rarely retaken. One of our mules took a sudden freak into his head, and
joined a neighboring band to-day. As we were not in a condition to lose
horses, I sent several men in pursuit, and remained in camp, in the
hope of recovering him; but lost the afternoon to no purpose, as we did
not see him again. Astronomical observations placed us in longitude
100° 05' 47", latitude 40° 49' 55"



JULY.


1st.--Along our road to-day the prairie bottom was more elevated and
dry, and the river hills which border the right side of the river
higher, and more broken and picturesque in the outline. The country,
too, was better timbered. As we were riding quietly along the bank, a
grand herd of buffalo, some seven or eight hundred in number, came
crowding up from the river, where they had been to drink, and commenced
crossing the plain slowly, eating as they went. The wind was favorable;
the coolness of the morning invited to exercise; the ground was
apparently good, and the distance across the prairie (two or three
miles) gave us a fine opportunity to charge them before they could get
among the river hills. It was too fine a prospect for a chase to be
lost; and, halting for a few moments, the hunters were brought up and
saddled, and Kit Carson, Maxwell, and I, started together. They were
now somewhat less than half a mile distant, and we rode easily along
until within about three hundred yards, when a sudden agitation, a
wavering in the band, and a galloping to and fro of some which were
scattered along the skirts, gave us the intimation that we were
discovered. We started together at a hand gallop, riding steadily
abreast of each other; and here the interest of the chase became so
engrossingly intense, that we were sensible to nothing else. We were
now closing upon them rapidly, and the front of the mass was already in
rapid motion for the hills, and in a few seconds the movement had
communicated itself to the whole herd.

A crowd of bulls, as usual, brought up the rear, and every now and then
some of them faced about, and then dashed on after the band a short
distance, and turned and looked again, as if more than half inclined to
fight. In a few moments, however, during which we had been quickening
our pace, the rout was universal, and we were going over the ground
like a hurricane. When at about thirty yards, we gave the usual shout,
(the hunter's _pas de charge_,) and broke into the herd. We entered on
the side, the mass giving way in every direction in their heedless
course. Many of the bulls, less active and fleet than the cows, paying
no attention to the ground, and occupied solely with the hunter, were
precipitated to the earth with great force, rolling over and over with
the violence of the shock, and hardly distinguishable in the dust. We
separated on entering, each singling out his game.

My horse was a trained hunter, famous in the West under the name of
Proveau; and, with his eyes flashing and the foam flying from his
mouth, sprang on after the cow like a tiger. In a few moments he
brought me alongside of her, and rising in the stirrups, I fired at the
distance of a yard, the ball entering at the termination of the long
hair, and passing near the heart. She fell headlong at the report of
the gun; and, checking my horse, I looked around for my companions. At
a little distance, Kit was on the ground, engaged in tying his horse to
the horns of a cow he was preparing to cut up. Among the scattered
bands, at some distance below, I caught a glimpse of Maxwell; and while
I was looking, a light wreath of smoke curled away from his gun, from
which I was too far to hear the report. Nearer, and between me and the
hills, towards which they were directing their course, was the body of
the herd; and, giving my horse the rein, we dashed after them. A thick
cloud of dust hung upon their rear, which filled my mouth and eyes, and
nearly smothered me. In the midst of this I could see nothing, and the
buffalo were not distinguishable until within thirty feet. They crowded
together more densely still as I came upon them, and rushed along in
such a compact body, that I could not obtain an entrance--the horse
almost leaping upon them. In a few moments the mass divided to the
right and left, the horns clattering with a noise heard above every
thing else, and my horse darted into the opening. Five or six bulls
charged on us as we dashed along the line, but were left far behind;
and, singling out a cow, I gave her my fire, but struck too high. She
gave a tremendous leap, and scoured on swifter than before. I reined up
my horse, and the band swept on like a torrent, and left the place
quiet and clear. Our chase had led us into dangerous ground. A
prairie-dog village, so thickly settled that there were three or four
holes in every twenty yards square, occupied the whole bottom for
nearly two miles in length. Looking around, I saw only one of the
hunters, nearly out of sight, and the long, dark line of our caravan
crawling along, three or four miles distant. After a march of
twenty-four miles, we encamped at nightfall, one mile and a half above
the lower end of Brady's Island. The breadth of this arm of the river
was eight hundred and eighty yards, and the water nowhere two feet in
depth. The island bears the name of a man killed on this spot some
years ago. His party had encamped here, three in company, and one of
the number went off to hunt, leaving Brady and his companion together.
These two had frequently quarreled, and on the hunter's return he found
Brady dead, and was told that he had shot himself accidentally. He was
buried here on the bank; but, as usual, the wolves tore him out, and
some human bones that were lying on the ground we supposed were his.
Troops of wolves that were hanging on the skirts of the buffalo, kept
up an uninterrupted howling during the night, venturing almost into
camp. In the morning, they were sitting at a short distance, barking,
and impatiently waiting our departure, to fall upon the bones.

2d.--The morning was cool and smoky. Our road led closer to the hills,
which here increased in elevation, presenting an outline of conical
peaks three hundred to five hundred feet high. Some timber, apparently
pine, grows in the ravines, and streaks of clay or sand whiten their
slopes. We crossed, during the morning, a number of hollows, timbered
principally with box, elder, (_acer negundo_,) poplar, and elm. Brady's
Island is well wooded, and all the river along which our road led
to-day, may, in general, be called tolerably well timbered. We passed
near the encampment of the Oregon emigrants, where they appeared to
have reposed several days. A variety of household articles were
scattered about, and they had probably disburdened themselves here of
many things not absolutely necessary. I had left the usual road before
the mid-day halt, and in the afternoon, having sent several men in
advance to reconnoitre, marched directly for the mouth of the South
fork. On our arrival, the horsemen were sent in and scattered about the
river to search for the best fording-places, and the carts followed
immediately. The stream is here divided by an island into two channels.
The southern is four hundred and fifty feet wide, having eighteen or
twenty inches water in the deepest places. With the exception of a few
dry bars, the bed of the river is generally quicksands, in which the
carts began to sink rapidly so soon as the mules halted, so that it was
necessary to keep them constantly in motion.

The northern channel, two thousand two hundred and fifty feet wide, was
somewhat deeper, having frequently three feet water in the numerous
small channels, with a bed of coarse gravel. The whole breadth of the
Nebraska, immediately below the junction, is five thousand three
hundred and fifty feet. All our equipage had reached the left bank
safely at six o'clock, having to-day made twenty miles. We encamped at
the point of land immediately at the junction of the North and South
forks. Between the streams is a low rich prairie extending from their
confluence eighteen miles westwardly to the bordering hills, where it
is five and a half miles wide. It is covered with a luxuriant growth of
grass, and along the banks is a slight and scattered fringe of
cottonwood and willow. In the buffalo-trails and wallows, I remarked
saline efflorescences, to which a rapid evaporation in the great heat
of the sun probably contributes, as the soil is entirely unprotected by
timber. In the vicinity of these places there was a bluish grass, which
the cattle refuse to eat, called by the voyageurs "herbe salée," (salt
grass.) The latitude of the junction is 41° 04' 47", and longitude, by
chronometer and lunar distances, 100° 49' 43". The elevation above the
sea is about two thousand seven hundred feet. The hunters came in with
a fat cow; and, as we had labored hard, we enjoyed well a supper of
roasted ribs and boudins, the chef d'oeuvre of a prairie cook.
Mosquitoes thronged about us this evening; but, by ten o'clock, when
the thermometer had fallen to 47°, they had all disappeared.

3d.--As this was to be a point in our homeward journey, I made a cache
(a term used in all this country for what is hidden in the ground) of a
barrel of pork. It was impossible to conceal such a proceeding from the
sharp eyes of our Cheyenne companions, and I therefore told them to go
and see what it was they were burying. They would otherwise have not
failed to return and destroy our cache in expectation of some rich
booty; but pork they dislike and never eat. We left our camp at nine,
continuing up the South fork, the prairie-bottom affording us a fair
road; but in the long grass we roused myriads of mosquitoes and flies,
from which our horses suffered severely. The day was smoky, with a
pleasant breeze from the south, and the plains on the opposite side
were covered with buffalo. Having traveled twenty-five miles, we
encamped at six in the evening; and the men were sent across the river
for wood, as there is none here on the left bank. Our fires were
partially made of the _bois de vache_, the dry excrement of the
buffalo, which, like that of the camel in the Arabian deserts,
furnishes to the traveler a very good substitute for wood, burning like
turf. Wolves in great numbers surrounded us during the night, crossing
and recrossing from the opposite herds to our camp, and howling and
trotting about in the river until morning.

4th.--The morning was very smoky, the sun shining dimly and red, as in
thick fog. The camp was roused by a salute at daybreak, and from our
scanty store a portion of what our Indian friends called the "red
fire-water" served out to the men. While we were at breakfast, a
buffalo-calf broke through the camp, followed by a couple of wolves. In
its fright, it had probably mistaken us for a band of buffalo. The
wolves were obliged to make a circuit round the camp, so that the calf
got a little the start, and strained every nerve to reach a large herd
at the foot of the hills, about two miles distant; but first one and
then another, and another wolf joined in the chase, until his pursuers
amounted to twenty or thirty, and they ran him down before he could
reach his friends. There were a few bulls near the place, and one of
them attacked the wolves and tried to rescue him; but was driven off
immediately, and the little animal fell an easy prey, half devoured
before he was dead. We watched the chase with the interest always felt
for the weak; and had there been a saddled horse at hand, he would have
fared better. Leaving camp, our road soon approached the hills, in
which strata of a marl like that of the Chimney rock, hereafter
described, made their appearance. It is probably of this rock that the
hills on the right bank of the Platte, a little below the junction, are
composed, and which are worked by the winds and rains into sharp peaks
and cones, giving them, in contrast to the surrounding level region,
something of a picturesque appearance. We crossed, this morning,
numerous beds of the small creeks which, in the time of rains and
melting snow, pour down from the ridge, bringing down with them,
always, great quantities of sand and gravel, which have gradually
raised their beds four to ten feet above the level of the prairie,
which they cross, making each one of them a miniature Po. Raised in
this way above the surrounding prairie, without any bank, the long
yellow and winding line of their beds resembles a causeway from the
hills to the river. Many spots on the prairie are yellow with
sunflower, (_helianthus_.)

As we were riding slowly along this afternoon, clouds of dust in the
ravines, among the hills to the right, suddenly attracted our
attention, and in a few minutes column after column of buffalo came
galloping down, making directly to the river. By the time the leading
herds had reached the water, the prairie was darkened with the dense
masses. Immediately before us, when the bands first came down into the
valley, stretched an unbroken line, the head of which was lost among
the river hills on the opposite side; and still they poured down from
the ridge on our right. From hill to hill, the prairie bottom was
certainly not less than two miles wide; and, allowing the animals to be
ten feet apart, and only ten in a line, there were already eleven
thousand in view. Some idea may thus be formed of their number when
they had occupied the whole plain. In a short time they surrounded us
on every side, extending for several miles in the rear, and forward as
far as the eye could reach; leaving around us, as we advanced, an open
space of only two or three hundred yards. This movement of the buffalo
indicated to us the presence of Indians on the North fork.

I halted earlier than usual, about forty miles from the junction, and
all hands were soon busily engaged in preparing a feast to celebrate
the day. The kindness of our friends at St. Louis had provided us with
a large supply of excellent preserves and rich fruit-cake; and when
these were added to a macaroni soup, and variously prepared dishes of
the choicest buffalo-meat, crowned with a cup of coffee, and enjoyed
with prairie appetite, we felt, as we sat in barbaric luxury around our
smoking supper on the grass, a greater sensation of enjoyment than the
Roman epicure at his perfumed feast. But most of all it seemed to
please our Indian friends, who, in the unrestrained enjoyment of the
moment, demanded to know if our "medicine-days came often." No
restraint was exercised at the hospitable board, and, to the great
delight of his elders, our young Indian lad made himself extremely
drunk.

Our encampment was within a few miles of the place where the road
crosses to the North fork, and various reasons led me to divide my
party at this point. The North fork was the principal object of my
survey; but I was desirous to ascend the South branch, with a view of
obtaining some astronomical positions, and determining the mouths of
its tributaries as far as St. Vrain's fort, estimated to be some two
hundred miles farther up the river, and near to Long's Peak. There I
hoped to obtain some mules, which I found would be necessary to relieve
my horses. In a military point of view, I was desirous to form some
opinion of the country relative to the establishment of posts on a line
connecting the settlements with the south pass of the Rocky Mountains,
by way of the Arkansas and the South and Laramie forks of the Platte.
Crossing the country northwestwardly from St. Vrain's fort, to the
American Company's fort at the mouth of the Laramie, would give me some
acquaintance with the affluents which head-in the mountain between the
two; I therefore determined to set out the next morning, accompanied by
four men--Maxwell, Bernier, Ayot, and Basil Lajeunesse. Our Cheyennes,
whose village lay up this river, also decided to accompany us. The
party I left in charge of Clement Lambert, with orders to cross to the
North fork; and at some convenient place, near to the _Coulée des
Frenes_, make a cache of every thing not absolutely necessary to the
further progress of our expedition. From this point, using the most
guarded precaution in his march through the country, he was to proceed
to the American Company's fort at the mouth of the Laramie's fork, and
await my arrival, which would be prior to the 16th, as on that and the
following night would occur some occultations which I was desirous to
obtain at that place.

5th.--Before breakfast all was ready. We had one led horse in addition
to those we rode, and a pack-mule, destined to carry our instruments,
provisions, and baggage; the last two articles not being of great
weight. The instruments consisted of a sextant, artificial horizon,
&c., a barometer, spy-glass, and compass. The chronometer I of course
kept on my person. I had ordered the cook to put up for us some flour,
coffee, and sugar, and our rifles were to furnish the rest. One
blanket, in addition to his saddle and saddle blanket, furnished the
materials for each man's bed, and every one was provided with a change
of linen. All were armed with rifles or double-barrelled guns; and, in
addition to these, Maxwell and myself were furnished with excellent
pistols. Thus accoutred, we took a parting breakfast with our friends;
and set forth.

Our journey the first day afforded nothing of any interest. We shot a
buffalo towards sunset, and having obtained some meat for our evening
meal, encamped where a little timber afforded us the means of making a
fire. Having disposed our meat on roasting-sticks, we proceeded to
unpack our bales in search of coffee and sugar, and flour for bread.
With the exception of a little parched coffee, unground, we found
nothing. Our cook had neglected to put it up, or it had been somehow
forgotten. Tired and hungry, with tough bull-meat without salt, (for we
had not been able to kill a cow,) and a little bitter coffee, we sat
down in silence to our miserable fare, a very disconsolate party; for
yesterday's feast was yet fresh in our memories, and this was our first
brush with misfortune. Each man took his blanket, and laid himself down
silently; for the worst part of these mishaps is, that they make people
ill-humored. To-day we had traveled about thirty-six miles.

6th.--Finding that our present excursion would be attended with
considerable hardship, and unwilling to expose more persons than
necessary, I determined to send Mr. Preuss back to the party. His
horse, too, appeared in no condition to support the journey; and
accordingly, after breakfast, he took the road across the hills,
attended by one of my most trusty men, Bernier. The ridge between the
rivers is here about fifteen miles broad, and I expected he would
probably strike the fork near their evening camp. At all events he
would not fail to find their trail, and rejoin them the next day.

We continued our journey, seven in number, including the three
Cheyennes. Our general course was southwest, up the valley of the
river, which was sandy, bordered on the northern side of the valley by
a low ridge; and on the south, after seven or eight miles, the river
hills became higher. Six miles from our resting-place we crossed the
bed of a considerable stream, now entirely dry--a bed of sand. In a
grove of willows, near the mouth, were the remains of a considerable
fort, constructed of trunks of large trees. It was apparently very old,
and had probably been the scene of some hostile encounter among the
roving tribes. Its solitude formed an impressive contrast to the
picture which our imaginations involuntarily drew of the busy scene
which had been enacted here. The timber appeared to have been much more
extensive formerly than now. There were but few trees, a kind of
long-leaved willow, standing; and numerous trunks of large trees were
scattered about on the ground. In many similar places I had occasion to
remark an apparent progressive decay in the timber. Ten miles farther
we reached the mouth of Lodge Pole creek, a clear and handsome stream,
running through a broad valley. In its course through the bottom it has
a uniform breadth of twenty-two feet and six inches in depth. A few
willows on the banks strike pleasantly on the eye, by their greenness,
in the midst of hot and barren sands.

The _amorpha_ was frequent among the ravines, but the sunflower
(_helianthus_) was the characteristic; and flowers of deep warm colors
seem most to love the sandy soil. The impression of the country
traveled over to-day was one of dry and barren sands. We turned in
towards the river at noon, and gave our horses two hours for food and
rest. I had no other thermometer than the one attached to the
barometer, which stood at 89°, the height of the column in the
barometer being 26.235 at meridian. The sky was clear, with a high wind
from the south. At 2 we continued our journey; the wind had moderated,
and it became almost unendurably hot, and our animals suffered
severely. In the course of the afternoon, the wind rose suddenly, and
blew hard from the southwest, with thunder and lightning, and squalls
of rain; these were blown against us with violence by the wind; and,
halting, we turned our backs to the storm until it blew over. Antelope
were tolerably frequent, with a large gray hare; but the former were
shy, and the latter hardly worth the delay of stopping to shoot them;
so, as the evening drew near, we again had recourse to an old bull, and
encamped at sunset on an island in the Platte.

We ate our meat with a good relish this evening, for we were all in
fine health, and had ridden nearly all of a long summer's day, with a
burning sun reflected from the sands. My companions slept rolled up in
their blankets, and the Indians lay in the grass near the fire; but my
sleeping-place generally had an air of more pretension. Our rifles were
tied together near the muzzle, the butts resting on the ground, and a
knife laid on the rope, to cut away in case of an alarm. Over this,
which made a kind of frame, was thrown a large India-rubber cloth,
which we used to cover our packs. This made a tent sufficiently large
to receive about half of my bed, and was a place of shelter for my
instruments; and as I was careful always to put this part against the
wind, I could lie here with a sensation of satisfied enjoyment, and
hear the wind blow, and the rain patter close to my head, and know that
I should be at least half dry. Certainly I never slept more soundly.
The barometer at sunset was 26.010, thermometer at 81°, and cloudy; but
a gale from the west sprang up with the setting sun, and in a few
minutes swept away every cloud from the sky. The evening was very fine,
and I remained up to take astronomical observations, which made our
position in latitude 40° 51' 17", and longitude 103° 07' 00".

7th.--At our camp this morning, at six o'clock, the barometer was at
26.183, thermometer 69°, and clear, with a light wind from the
southwest. The past night had been squally, with high winds, and
occasionally a few drops of rain. Our cooking did not occupy much time,
and we left camp early. Nothing of interest occurred during the
morning. The same dreary barrenness, except that a hard marly clay had
replaced the sandy soil. Buffalo absolutely covered the plain, on both
sides of the river, and whenever we ascended the hills, scattered herds
gave life to the view in every direction. A small drove of wild horses
made their appearance on the low river bottoms, a mile or two to the
left, and I sent off one of the Indians (who seemed very eager to catch
one) on my led horse, a spirited and fleet animal. The savage
manoeuvred a little to get the wind of the horses, in which he
succeeded--approaching within a hundred yards without being discovered.
The chase for a few minutes was interesting. My hunter easily overtook
and passed the hindmost of the wild drove, which the did not attempt to
_lasso_; all his efforts being directed to capture the leader. But the
strength of the horse, weakened by insufficient nourishment of grass,
failed in a race, and all the drove escaped. We halted at noon on the
bank of the river, the barometer at that time being 26.192, and
thermometer 103°, with a light air from the south and clear weather.

In the course of the afternoon, dust rising among the hills, at a
particular place, attracted our attention; and, riding up, we found a
band of eighteen or twenty buffalo bulls engaged in a desperate fight.
Though butting and goring were bestowed liberally, and without
distinction, yet their efforts were evidently directed against one--a
huge, gaunt old bull, very lean, while his adversaries were all fat and
in good order. He appeared very weak, and had already received some
wounds; and, while we were looking on, was several times knocked down
and badly hurt, and a very few moments would have put an end to him. Of
course, we took the side of the weaker party, and attacked the herd;
but they were so blind with rage, that they fought on, utterly
regardless of our presence although on foot and on horseback we were
firing, in open view, within twenty yards of them. But this did not
last long. In a very few seconds, we created a commotion among them.
One or two, which were knocked over by the balls, jumped up and ran off
into the hills; and they began to retreat slowly along a broad ravine
to the river, fighting furiously as they went. By the time they had
reached the bottom, we had pretty well dispersed them, and the old bull
hobbled off to lie down somewhere. One of his enemies remained on the
ground where we had first fired upon them, and we stopped there for a
short time to cut from him some meat for our supper. We had neglected
to secure our horses, thinking it an unnecessary precaution in their
fatigued condition; but our mule took it into his head to start, and
away he went, followed at full speed by the pack-horse, with all the
baggage and instruments on his back. They were recovered and brought
back, after a chase of a mile. Fortunately, everything was well
secured, so that nothing, not even the barometer, was in the least
injured.

The sun was getting low, and some narrow lines of timber, four or five
miles distant, promised us a pleasant camp, where, with plenty of wood
for fire, and comfortable shelter, and rich grass for our animals, we
should find clear cool springs, instead of the warm water of the
Platte. On our arrival, we found the bed of a stream fifty to one
hundred feet wide, sunk some thirty feet below the level of the
prairie, with perpendicular banks, bordered by a fringe of green
cottonwood, but not a drop of water. There were several small forks to
the stream, all in the same condition. With the exception of the Platte
bottom, the country seemed to be of a clay formation, dry, and
perfectly devoid of any moisture, and baked hard by the sun. Turning
off towards the river, we reached the bank in about a mile, and were
delighted to find an old tree, with thick foliage and spreading
branches, where we encamped. At sunset, the barometer was at 25.950,
thermometer 81°, with a strong wind from S. 20° E., and the sky
partially covered with heavy masses of cloud, which settled a little
towards the horizon by ten o'clock, leaving it sufficiently clear for
astronomical observations, which placed us in latitude 40° 33' 26", and
longitude 103° 30' 37".

8th.--The morning was very pleasant. The breeze was fresh from S. 50°
E., with few clouds; the barometer at six o'clock standing at 25.970,
and the thermometer at 70°. Since leaving the forks our route had
passed over a country alternately clay and sand, each presenting the
same naked waste. On leaving camp this morning, we struck again a sandy
region, in which the vegetation appeared somewhat more vigorous than
that which we had observed for the last few days; and on the opposite
side of the river were some tolerably large groves of timber.

Journeying along, we came suddenly upon a place where the ground was
covered with horses' tracks, which had been made since the rain, and
indicated the immediate presence of Indians in our neighborhood. The
buffalo, too, which the day before had been so numerous were nowhere in
sight--another sure indication that there were people near. Riding on,
we discovered the carcass of a buffalo recently killed--perhaps the day
before. We scanned the horizon carefully with the glass, but no living
object was to be seen. For the next mile or two, the ground was dotted
with buffalo carcasses, which showed that the Indians had made a
surround here, and were in considerable force. We went on quickly and
cautiously, keeping the river bottom, and carefully avoiding the hills;
but we met with no interruption, and began to grow careless again. We
had already lost one of our horses, and here Basil's mule showed
symptoms of giving out, and finally refused to advance, being what the
Canadians call _reste_. He therefore dismounted, and drove her along
before him; but this was a very slow way of traveling. We had
inadvertently got about half a mile in advance, but our Cheyennes, who
were generally a mile or two in the rear, remained with him. There were
some dark-looking objects among the hills, about two miles to the left,
here low and undulating, which we had seen for a little time, and
supposed to be buffalo coming in to water; but, happening to look
behind, Maxwell saw the Cheyennes whipping up furiously, and another
glance at the dark objects showed them at once to be Indians coming up
at speed.

Had we been well mounted and disencumbered of instruments, we might
have set them at defiance; but as it was, we were fairly caught. It was
too late to rejoin our friends, and we endeavored to gain a clump of
timber about half a mile ahead; but the instruments and tired state of
our horses did not allow us to go faster than a steady canter, and they
were gaining on us fast. At first, they did not appear to be more than
fifteen or twenty in number, but group after group darted into view at
the top of the hills, until all the little eminences seemed in motion;
and, in a few minutes from the time they were first discovered, two or
three hundred, naked to the breechcloth, were sweeping across the
prairie. In a few hundred yards we discovered that the timber we were
endeavoring to make was on the opposite side of the river; and before
we reach the bank, down came the Indians upon us.

I am inclined to think that in a few seconds more the leading man, and
perhaps some of his companions, would have rolled in the dust; for we
had jerked the covers from our guns, and our fingers were on the
triggers. Men in such cases generally act from instinct, and a charge
from three hundred naked savages is a circumstance not well calculated
to promote a cool exercise of judgment. Just as he was about to fire,
Maxwell recognised the leading Indian, and shouted to him in the Indian
language, "You're a fool, G---- damn you--don't you know me?" The sound
of his own language seemed to shock the savage; and, swerving his horse
a little, he passed us like an arrow. He wheeled, as I rode out towards
him, and gave me his hand, striking his breast and exclaiming
"Arapaho!" They proved to be a village of that nation, among whom
Maxwell had resided as a trader a year or two previously, and
recognised him accordingly. We were soon in the midst of the band,
answering as well as we could a multitude of questions; of which the
very first was, of what tribe were our Indian companions who were
coming in the rear? They seemed disappointed to know that they were
Cheyennes, for they had fully anticipated a grand dance around a Pawnee
scalp that night.

The chief showed us his village at a grove on the river six miles
ahead, and pointed out a band of buffalo on the other side of the
Platte, immediately opposite us, which he said they were going to
surround. They had seen the band early in the morning from their
village, and had been making a large circuit, to avoid giving them the
wind, when they discovered us. In a few minutes the women came
galloping up, astride on their horses, and naked from their knees down
and the hips up. They followed the men, to assist in cutting up and
carrying off the meat.

The wind was blowing directly across the river, and the chief requested
us to halt where we were for awhile, in order to avoid raising the
herd. We therefore unsaddled our horses, and sat down on the bank to
view the scene; and our new acquaintances rode a few hundred yards
lower down, and began crossing the river. Scores of wild-looking dogs
followed, looking like troops of wolves, and having, in fact, but very
little of the dog in their composition. Some of them remained with us,
and I checked one of the men, whom I found aiming at one, which he was
about to kill for a wolf. The day had become very hot. The air was
clear, with a very slight breeze; and now, at 12 o'clock, while the
barometer stood at 25.920, the attached thermometer was at 108°. Our
Cheyennes had learned that with the Arapaho village were about twenty
lodges of their own, including their own families; they therefore
immediately commenced making their toilette. After bathing in the
river, they invested themselves in some handsome calico shirts, which I
afterwards learned they had stolen from my own men, and spent some time
in arranging their hair and painting themselves with some vermilion I
had given them. While they were engaged in this satisfactory manner,
one of their half-wild horses, to which the crowd of prancing animals
which had just passed had recalled the freedom of her existence among
the wild droves on the prairie, suddenly dashed into the hills at the
top of her speed. She was their pack-horse, and had on her back all the
worldly wealth of our poor Cheyennes, all their accoutrements, and all
the little articles which they had picked up among us, with some few
presents I had given them. The loss which they seemed to regret most
were their spears and shields, and some tobacco which they had received
from me. However, they bore it all with the philosophy of an Indian,
and laughingly continued their toilette. They appeared, however, to be
a little mortified at the thought of returning to the village in such a
sorry plight. "Our people will laugh at us," said one of them,
"returning to the village on foot, instead of driving back a drove of
Pawnee horses." He demanded to know if I loved my sorrel hunter very
much; to which I replied, he was the object of my most intense
affection. Far from being able to give, I was myself in want of horses;
and any suggestion of parting with the few I had valuable, was met with
a peremptory refusal. In the mean time, the slaughter was about to
commence on the other side. So soon as they reached it, Indians
separated into two bodies. One party proceeded across the prairie,
towards the hills, in an extended line, while the other went up the
river; and instantly as they had given the wind to the herd, the chase
commenced. The buffalo started for the hills, but were intercepted and
driven back towards the river, broken and running in every direction.
The clouds of dust soon covered the whole scene, preventing us from
having any but an occasional view. It had a very singular appearance to
us at a distance, especially when looking with the glass. We were too
far to hear the report of the guns, or any sound; and at every instant,
through the clouds of dust, which the sun made luminous, we could see
for a moment two or three buffalo dashing along, and close behind them
an Indian with his long spear, or other weapon, and instantly again
they disappeared. The apparent silence, and the dimly seen figures
flitting by with such rapidity, gave it a kind of dreamy effect, and
seemed more like a picture than a scene of real life. It had been a
large herd when the _cerne_ commenced, probably three or four hundred
in number; but, though I watched them closely, I did not see one emerge
from the fatal cloud where the work of destruction was going on. After
remaining here about an hour, we resumed our journey in the direction
of the village.

Gradually, as we rode on, Indian after Indian came dropping along,
laden with meat; and by the time we had neared the lodges, the backward
road was covered with the returning horsemen. It was a pleasant
contrast with the desert road we had been traveling. Several had joined
company with us, and one of the chiefs invited us to his lodge. The
village consisted of about one hundred and twenty-five lodges, of which
twenty were Cheyennes; the latter pitched a little apart from the
Arapahoes. They were disposed in a scattering manner on both sides of a
broad, irregular street, about one hundred and fifty feet wide, and
running along the river. As we rode along, I remarked near some of the
lodges a kind of tripod frame, formed of three slender poles of birch,
scraped very clean, to which were affixed the shield and spear, with
some other weapons of a chief. All were scrupulously clean, the
spear-head was burnished bright; and the shield white and stainless. It
reminded me of the days of feudal chivalry; and when, as I rode by, I
yielded to the passing impulse, and touched one of the spotless shields
with the muzzle of my gun, I almost expected a grim warrior to start
from the lodge and resent my challenge. The master of the lodge spread
out a robe for me to sit upon, and the squaws set before us a large
wooden dish of buffalo meat. He had lit his pipe in the mean while, and
when it had been passed around, we commenced our dinner while he
continued to smoke. Gradually, however, five or six other chiefs came
in, and took their seats in silence. When we had finished, our host
asked a number of questions relative to the object of our journey, of
which I made no concealment; telling him simply that I had made a visit
to see the country, preparatory to the establishment of military posts
on the way to the mountains. Although this was information of the
highest interest to them, and by no means calculated to please them, it
excited no expression of surprise, and in no way altered the grave
courtesy of their demeanor. The others listened and smoked. I remarked,
that in taking the pipe for the first time, each had turned the stem
upward, with a rapid glance, as in offering to the Great Spirit, before
he put it in his mouth. A storm had been gathering for the past hour,
and some pattering drops in the lodge warned us that we had some miles
to our camp. An Indian had given Maxwell a bundle of dried meat, which
was very acceptable, as we had nothing; and, springing upon our horses,
we rode off at dusk in the face of a cold shower and driving wind. We
found our companions under some densely foliaged old trees, about three
miles up the river. Under one of them lay the trunk of a large
cottonwood, to leeward of which the men had kindled a fire, and we sat
here and roasted our meat in tolerable shelter. Nearly opposite was the
mouth of one of the most considerable affluents of the South fork, _la
Fourche aux Castors_, (Beaver fork,) heading off in the ridge to the
southeast.

9th.--This morning we caught the first faint glimpse of the Rocky
mountains, about sixty miles distant. Though a tolerably bright day,
there was a slight mist, and we were just able to discern the snowy
summit of "Long's peak," ("_les deux oreilles_" of the Canadians,)
showing like a cloud near the horizon. I found it easily
distinguishable, there being a perceptible difference in its appearance
from the white clouds that were floating about the sky. I was pleased
to find that among the traders the name of "Long's peak" had been
adopted and become familiar in the country. In the ravines near this
place, a light brown sandstone made its first appearance. About 8, we
discerned several persons on horseback a mile or two ahead, on the
opposite side of the river. They turned in towards the river, and we
rode down to meet them. We found them to be two white men, and a
mulatto named Jim Beckwith, who had left St. Louis when a boy, and gone
to live with the Crow Indians. He had distinguished himself among them
by some acts of daring bravery, and had risen to the rank of chief, but
had now, for some years, left them. They were in search of a band of
horses that had gone off from a camp some miles above, in charge of Mr.
Chabonard. Two of them continued down the river, in search of the
horses, and the American turned back with us, and we rode on towards
the camp. About eight miles from our sleeping-place, we reached Bijou's
fork, an affluent of the right bank. Where we crossed it, a short
distance from the Platte, it has a sandy bed about four hundred yards
broad; the water in various small streams, a few inches deep. Seven
miles further brought us to the camp of some four or five whites, (New
Englanders, I believe,) who had accompanied Captain Wyeth to the
Columbia river, and were independent trappers. All had their squaws
with them, and I was really surprised at the number of little fat,
buffalo-fed boys that were tumbling about the camp, all apparently of
the same age, about three or four years old. They were encamped on a
rich bottom, covered with a profusion of rich grass, and had a large
number of fine-looking horses and mules. We rested with them a few
minutes, and in about two miles arrived at Chabonard's camp, on an
island in the Platte. On the heights above, we met the first Spaniard I
had seen in the country. Mr. Chabonard was in the service of Bent and
St. Vrain's company, and had left their fort some forty or fifty miles
above, in the spring, with boats laden with the furs of the last year's
trade. He had met the same fortune as the voyageurs on the North fork;
and, finding it impossible to proceed, had taken up his summer's
residence on this island, which he had named St. Helena. The river
hills appeared to be composed entirely of sand, and the Platte had lost
the muddy character of its waters, and here was tolerably clear. From
the mouth of the South fork, I had found it occasionally broken up by
small islands; and at the time of our journey, which was at a season of
the year when the waters were at a favorable stage, it was not
navigable for any thing drawing six inches water. The current was very
swift--the bed of the stream a coarse gravel. From the place at which
we had encountered the Arapahoes, the Platte had been tolerably well
fringed with timber, and the island here had a fine grove of very large
cottonwoods, under whose broad shade the tents were pitched. There was
a large drove of horses in the opposite prairie bottom; smoke was
rising from the scattered fires, and the encampment had quite a
patriarchal air. Mr. C. received us hospitably. One of the people was
sent to gather mint, with the aid of which he concocted very good
julep; and some boiled buffalo tongue, and coffee with the luxury of
sugar, were soon set before us. The people in his employ were generally
Spaniards, and among them I saw a young Spanish woman from Taos, whom I
found to be Beckwith's wife.

10th.--We parted with our hospitable host after breakfast the next
morning, and reached St. Vrain's fort, about forty-five miles from St.
Helena, late in the evening. This post is situated on the South fork of
the Platte, immediately under the mountains, about seventeen miles east
of Long's peak. It is on the right bank, on the verge of the upland
prairie, about forty feet above the river, of which the immediate
valley is about six hundred yards wide. The stream is divided into
various branches by small islands, among which it runs with a swift
current. The bed of the river is sand and gravel, the water very clear,
and here may be called a mountain-stream. This region appears to be
entirely free from the limestones and marls which give to the Lower
Platte its yellow and dirty color. The Black hills lie between the
stream and the mountains, whose snowy peaks glitter a few miles beyond.
At the fort we found Mr. St. Vrain, who received us with much kindness
and hospitality. Maxwell had spent the last two or three years between
this post and the village of Taos; and here he was at home, and among
his friends. Spaniards frequently came over in search of employment;
and several came in shortly after our arrival. They usually obtain
about six dollars a month, generally paid to them in goods. They are
very useful in a camp, in taking care of horses and mules; and I
engaged one, who proved to be an active, laborious man, and was of very
considerable service to me. The elevation of the Platte here is five
thousand four hundred feet above the sea. The neighboring mountains did
not appear to enter far the region of perpetual snow, which was
generally confined to the northern side of the peaks. On the southern,
I remarked very little. Here it appeared, so far as I could judge in
the distance, to descend but a few hundred feet below the summits.

I regretted that time did not permit me to visit them; but the proper
object of my survey lay among the mountains farther north; and I looked
forward to an exploration of their snowy recesses with great pleasure.
The piney region of the mountains to the south was enveloped in smoke,
and I was informed had been on fire for several months. Pike's peak is
said to be visible from this place, about one hundred miles to the
southward; but the smoky state of the atmosphere prevented my seeing
it. The weather continued overcast during my stay here, so that I
failed in determining the latitude, but obtained good observations for
the time on the mornings of the 11th and 12th. An assumed latitude of
40° 22' 30" from the evening position of the 12th, enabled me to obtain
for a tolerably correct longitude, 105° 12' 12".

12th.--The kindness of Mr. St. Vrain enabled me to obtain a couple of
horses and three good mules; and, with a further addition to our party
of the Spaniard whom I had hired, and two others, who were going to
obtain service at Laramie's fork, we resumed our journey at ten, on the
morning of the 12th. We had been able to procure nothing at the post in
the way of provision. An expected supply from Taos had not yet arrived,
and a few pounds of coffee was all that could be spared to us. In
addition to this we had dried meat enough for the first day; on the
next, we expected to find buffalo. From this post, according to the
estimate of the country, the fort at the mouth of Laramie's fork, which
was our next point of destination, was nearly due north, distant about
one hundred and twenty-five miles.

For a short distance our road lay down the valley of the Platte, which
resembled a garden in the splendor of fields of varied flowers, which
filled the air with fragrance. The only timber I noticed consisted of
poplar, birch, cottonwood, and willow. In something less than three
miles we crossed Thompson's creek, one of the affluents to the left
bank of the South fork--a fine stream about sixty-five feet wide, and
three feet deep. Journeying on, the low dark line of the Black hills
lying between us and the mountains to the left, in about ten miles from
the fort, we reached _Cache à la Poudre_, where we halted to noon. This
is a very beautiful mountain-stream, about one hundred feet wide,
flowing with a full swift current over a rocky bed. We halted under the
shade of some cottonwoods, with which the stream is wooded
scatteringly. In the upper part of its course, it runs amid the wildest
mountain scenery, and, breaking through the Black hills, falls into the
Platte about ten miles below this place. In the course of our late
journey, I had managed to become the possessor of a very untractable
mule--a perfect vixen--and her I had turned over to my Spaniard. It
occupied us about half an hour to-day to get saddle upon her; but, once
on her back, Jose could not be dismounted, realizing the accounts given
of Mexican horses and horsemanship; and we continued our route in the
afternoon.

At evening, we encamped on Crow creek, having traveled about
twenty-eight miles. None of the party were well acquainted with the
country, and I had great difficulty in ascertaining what were the names
of the streams we crossed between the North and South forks of the
Platte. This I supposed to be Cow creek. It is what is called a salt
stream, and the water stands in pools, having no continuous course. A
fine-grained sandstone made its appearance in the banks. The
observations of the night placed us in latitude 40° 42', longitude 104°
57' 49". The barometer at sunset was 25.231; attached thermometer at
66°. Sky clear, except in the east, with a light wind from the north.

13th.--There being no wood here, we used last night the _bois de
vache_, which is very plentiful. At our camp this morning, the
barometer was at 25.235; the attached thermometer 60°. A few clouds
were moving through a deep-blue sky, with a light wind from the west.
After a ride of twelve miles, in a northerly direction, over a plain
covered with innumerable quantities of _cacti_, we reached a small
creek in which there was water, and where several herds of buffalo were
scattered about among the ravines, which always afford good pasturage.
We seem now to be passing along the base of a plateau of the Black
hills, in which the formation consists of marls, some of them white and
laminated; the country to the left rising suddenly, and falling off
gradually and uniformly to the right. In five or six miles of a
northeasterly course, we struck a high ridge, broken into conical
peaks, on whose summits large boulders were gathered in heaps. The
magnetic direction of the ridge is northwest and southeast, the
glittering white of its precipitous sides making it visible for many
miles to the south. It is composed of a soft earthy limestone and
marls, resembling that hereafter described in the neighborhood of the
Chimney rock, on the North fork of the Platte, easily worked by the
winds and rains, and sometimes moulded into very fantastic shapes. At
the foot of the northern slope was the bed of a creek, some forty feet
wide, coming, by frequent falls, from the bench above. It was shut in
by high, perpendicular banks, in which were strata of white laminated
marl. Its bed was perfectly dry, and the leading feature of the whole
region is one of remarkable aridity, and perfect freedom from moisture.
In about six miles we crossed the bed of another dry creek; and,
continuing our ride over high level prairie, a little before sundown we
came suddenly upon a beautiful creek, which revived us with a feeling
of delighted surprise by the pleasant contrast of the deep verdure of
its banks with the parched desert we had passed. We had suffered much
to-day, both men and horses, for want of water; having met with it but
once in our uninterrupted march of forty miles; and an exclusive meat
diet creates much thirst.

"_Les bestias tienen mucha hambre_," said the young Spaniard,
inquiringly: "_y la gente tambien_," said I, "_amiago_, we'll camp
here." A stream of good and clear water ran winding about through the
little valley, and a herd of buffalo were quietly feeding a little
distance below. It was quite a hunter's paradise; and while some ran
down towards the band to kill one for supper, others collected _bois de
vache_ for a fire, there being no wood; and I amused myself with
hunting for plants among the grass.

It will be seen, by occasional remarks on the geological formation,
that the constituents of the soil in these regions are good, and every
day served to strengthen the impression in my mind, confirmed by
subsequent observation, that the barren appearance of the country is
due almost entirely to the extreme dryness of the climate. Along our
route, the country had seemed to increase constantly in elevation.
According to the indication of the barometer, we were at our encampment
5,440 feet above the sea.

The evening was very clear, with a fresh breeze from the south, 50°
east. The barometer at sunset was 24.862, the thermometer attached
showing 68°. I supposed this to be a fork of Lodge Pole creek, so far
as I could determine from our uncertain means of information.
Astronomical observations gave for the camp a longitude of 104° 39'
37", and latitude 41° 08' 31".

14th.--The wind continued fresh from the same quarter in the morning;
the day being clear, with the exception of a few clouds in the horizon.
At our camp, at six o'clock, the height of the barometer was 24.830,
the attached thermometer 61°. Our course this morning was directly
north by compass, the variation being 15° or 16° easterly. A ride of
four miles brought us to Lodge Pole creek, which we had seen at the
mouth of the South fork; crossing on the way two dry streams, in
eighteen miles from our encampment of the past night, we reached a high
bleak ridge, composed entirely of the same earthy limestone and marl
previously described. I had never seen any thing which impressed so
strongly on my mind a feeling of desolation. The valley, through which
ran the waters of Horse creek, lay in view to the north, but too far to
have any influence on the immediate view. On the peak of the ridge
where I was standing, some seven hundred feet above the river, the wind
was high and bleak; the barren and arid country seemed as if it had
been swept by fires, and in every direction the same dull ash-colored
hue, derived from the formation, met the eye. On the summits were some
stunted pines, many of them dead, all wearing the same ashen hue of
desolation. We left the place with pleasure; and, after we had
descended several hundred feet, halted in one of the ravines, which, at
the distance of every mile or two, cut the flanks of the ridge with
little rushing streams, wearing something of a mountain character. We
had already begun to exchange the comparatively barren lands for those
of a more fertile character. Though the sandstone formed the broken
banks of the creek, yet they were covered with a thin grass; and the
fifty or sixty feet which formed the bottom land of the little stream
were clothed with very luxuriant grass, among which I remarked willow
and cherry, (_cerasus virginiana_,) and a quantity of gooseberry and
currant bushes occupied the greater part.

The creek was three or four feet broad, and about six inches deep, with
a swift current of clear water, and tolerably cool. We had struck it
too low down to find the cold water, which we should have enjoyed
nearer to its sources. At two, P.M., the barometer was at 25•050, and
the attached thermometer 104°. A day of hot sunshine, with clouds, and
moderate breeze from the south. Continuing down the stream, in about
four miles we reached its mouth, at one of the main branches of Horse
creek. Looking back upon the ridge, whose direction appeared to be a
little to the north of east, we saw it seamed at frequent intervals
with the dark lines of wooded streams, affluents of the river that
flowed so far as we could see along its base. We crossed, in the space
of twelve miles from our noon halt, three or four forks of Horse creek,
and encamped at sunset on the most easterly.

The fork on which we encamped appeared to have followed an easterly
direction up to this place; but here it makes a very sudden bend to the
north, passing between two ranges of precipitous hills, called, as I
was informed, Goshen's hole. There is somewhere in or near this
locality a place so called, but I am not certain that it was the place
of our encampment. Looking back upon the spot, at the distance of a few
miles to the northward, the hills appear to shut in the prairie,
through which runs the creek, with a semicircular sweep, which might
very naturally be called a hole in the bills. The geological
composition of the ridge is the same which constitutes the rock of the
Court-house and Chimney, on the North fork, which appeared to me a
continuation of this ridge. The winds and rains work this formation
into a variety of singular forms. The pass into Goshen's hole is about
two miles wide, and the hill on the western side imitates, in an
extraordinary manner, a massive fortified place, with a remarkable
fulness of detail. The rock is marl and earthy limestone, white,
without the least appearance of vegetation, and much resembles masonry
at a little distance; and here it sweeps around a level area two or
three hundred yards in diameter, and in the form of a half moon,
terminating on either extremity in enormous bastions. Along the whole
line of the parapets appear domes and slender minarets, forty or fifty
feet high, giving it every appearance of an old fortified town. On the
waters of White river, where this formation exists in great extent, it
presents appearances which excite the admiration of the solitary
voyageur, and form a frequent theme of their conversation when speaking
of the wonders of the country. Sometimes it offers the perfectly
illusive appearance of a large city, with numerous streets and
magnificent buildings, among which the Canadians never fail to see
their _cabaret_--and sometimes it takes the form of a solitary house,
with many large chambers, into which they drive their horses at night,
and sleep in these natural defences perfectly secure from any attack of
prowling savages. Before reaching our camp at Goshen's hole, in
crossing the immense detritus at the foot of the Castle rock, we were
involved amidst winding passages cut by the waters of the hill; and
where, with a breadth scarcely large enough for the passage of a horse,
the walls rise thirty and forty feet perpendicularly. This formation
supplies the discoloration of the Platte. At sunset, the height of the
mercurial column was 25.500, the attached thermometer 80°, and wind
moderate from S. 38° E. Clouds covered the sky with the rise of the
moon, but I succeeded in obtaining the usual astronomical observations,
which placed us in latitude 41° 40' 13", and longitude 104° 24' 36".

15th.--At six this morning, the barometer was at 25.515 the thermometer
72°; the day was fine, with some clouds looking dark on the south, with
a fresh breeze from the same quarter. We found that in our journey
across the country we had kept too much to the eastward. This morning,
accordingly, we traveled by compass some 15 or 20 to the west of north,
and struck the Platte some thirteen miles below Fort Laramie. The day
was extremely hot, and among the hills the wind seemed to have just
issued from an oven. Our horses were much distressed, as we had
traveled hard; and it was with some difficulty that they were all
brought to the Platte, which we reached at one o'clock. In riding in
towards the river, we found the trail of our carts, which appeared to
have passed a day or two since.

After having allowed our animals two hours for food and repose, we
resumed our journey, and towards the close of the day came in sight of
Laramie's fork. Issuing from the river hills, we came first in view of
Fort Platte, a post belonging to Messrs. Sybille, Adams & Co., situated
immediately in the point of land at the junction of Laramie with the
Platte. Like the post we had visited on the South fork, it was built of
earth, and still unfinished, being enclosed with walls (or rather
houses) on three of the sides, and open on the fourth to the river. A
few hundred yards brought us in view of the post of the American Fur
Company, called Fort John, or Laramie. This was a large post having
more the air of military construction than the fort at the mouth of the
river. It is on the left bank, on a rising ground some twenty-five feet
above the water; and its lofty walls, whitewashed and picketed, with
the large bastions at the angles, gave it quite an imposing appearance
in the uncertain light of evening. A cluster of lodges, which the
language told us belonged to Sioux Indians, was pitched under the
walls; and, with the fine background of the Black hills and the
prominent peak of Laramie mountain, strongly drawn in the clear light
of the western sky, where the sun had already set, the whole formed at
the moment a strikingly beautiful picture. From the company at St.
Louis I had letters for Mr. Boudeau, the gentleman in charge of the
post, by whom I was received with great hospitality and an efficient
kindness, which was invaluable to me during my stay in the country. I
found our people encamped on the bank, a short distance above the fort.
All were well; and, in the enjoyment of a bountiful supper, which
coffee and bread made luxurious to us, we soon forgot the fatigues of
the last ten days.

16th.--I found that, during my absence, the situation of affairs had
undergone some change; and the usual quiet and somewhat monotonous
regularity of the camp had given place to excitement and alarm. The
circumstances which occasioned this change will be found narrated in
the following extract from the journal of Mr. Preuss, which commences
with the day of our separation on the South fork of the Platte:

"6th.--We crossed the plateau or highland between the two forks in
about six hours. I let my horse go as slow as he liked, to indemnify us
both for the previous hardship; and about noon we reached the North
fork. There was no sign that our party had passed; we rode, therefore,
to some pine trees, unsaddled the hoses, and stretched our limbs on the
grass, awaiting the arrival of our company. After remaining here two
hours, my companion became impatient, mounted his horse again, and rode
off down the river to see if he could discover our people. I felt so
marode yet, that it was a horrible idea to me to bestride that saddle
again; so I lay still. I knew they could not come any other way, and
then my companion, one of the best men of the company, would not
abandon me. The sun went down--he did not come. Uneasy I did not feel,
but very hungry. I had no provisions, but I could make a fire; and as I
espied two doves in a tree, I tried to kill one. But it needs a better
marksman than myself to kill a little bird with a rifle. I made a fire,
however, lighted my pipe--this true friend of mine in every
emergency--lay down, and let my thoughts wander to the far east. It was
not many minutes after when I heard the tramp of a horse, and my
faithful companion was by my side. He had found the party, who had been
delayed by making their _cache_, about seven miles below. To the good
supper which he brought with him I did ample justice. He had forgotten
salt, and I tried the soldier's substitute in time of war, and used
gunpowder; but it answered badly--bitter enough, but no flavor of
kitchen salt. I slept well; and was only disturbed by two owls, which
were attracted by the fire, and took their place in the tree under
which we slept. Their music seemed as disagreeable to my companion as
to myself; he fired his rifle twice, and then they let us alone.

"7th.--At about 10 o'clock, the party arrived; and we continued our
journey through a country which offered but little to interest the
traveler. The soil was much more sandy than in the valley below the
confluence of the forks, and the face of the country no longer
presented the refreshing green which had hitherto characterized it. The
rich grass was now found only in dispersed spots, on low grounds, and
on the bottom land of the streams. A long drought, joined to extreme
heat, had so parched up the upper prairies, that they were in many
places bald, or covered only with a thin growth of yellow and poor
grass. The nature of the soil renders it extremely susceptible to the
vicissitudes of the climate. Between the forks, and from their junction
to the Black hills, the formation consists of marl and a soft earthy
limestone, with granitic sandstone. Such a formation cannot give rise
to a sterile soil; and, on our return in September, when the country
had been watered by frequent rains, the valley of the Platte looked
like a garden; so rich was the verdure of the grasses, and so luxuriant
the bloom of abundant flowers. The wild sage begins to make its
appearance, and timber is so scarce that we generally made our fires of
the _bois de vache_. With the exception of now and then an isolated
tree or two, standing like a lighthouse on the river bank, there is
none to be seen.

"8th.--Our road to-day was a solitary one. No game made its
appearance--not even a buffalo or a stray antelope; and nothing
occurred to break the monotony until about 5 o'clock, when the caravan
made a sudden halt. There was a galloping in of scouts and horsemen
from every side--a hurrying to and fro in noisy confusion; rifles were
taken from their covers; bullet pouches examined: in short, there was
the cry of 'Indians,' heard again. I had become so much accustomed to
these alarms, that they now made but little impression on me; and
before I had time to become excited, the newcomers were ascertained to
be whites. It was a large party of traders and trappers, conducted by
Mr. Bridger, a man well known in the history of the country. As the sun
was low, and there was a fine grass patch not far ahead, they turned
back and encamped for the night with us. Mr. Bridger was invited to
supper; and, after the _table-cloth_ was removed, we listened with
eager interest to an account of their adventures. What they had met, we
would be likely to encounter; the chances which had befallen them,
would probably happen to us; and we looked upon their life as a picture
of our own. He informed us that the condition of the country had become
exceedingly dangerous. The Sioux, who had been badly disposed, had
broken out into open hostility, and in the preceding autumn his party
had encountered them in a severe engagement, in which a number of lives
had been lost on both sides. United with the Cheyenne and Gros Ventre
Indians, they were scouring the upper country in war parties of great
force, and were at this time in the neighborhood of the _Red Buttes_, a
famous landmark, which was directly in our path. They had declared war
upon every living thing that should be found westward of that point;
though their main object was to attack a large camp of whites and Snake
Indians, who had a rendezvous in the Sweet Water valley. Availing
himself of his intimate knowledge of the country, he had reached
Laramie by an unusual route through the Black hills, and avoided coming
into contact with any of the scattered parties. This gentleman offered
his services to accompany us as far as the head of the Sweet Water; but
the absence of our leader, which was deeply regretted by us all,
rendered it impossible for us to enter upon such arrangements. In a
camp consisting of men whose lives had been spent in this country, I
expected to find every one prepared for occurrences of this nature;
but, to my great surprise, I found, on the contrary, that this news had
thrown them all into the greatest consternation; and, on every side, I
heard only one exclamation, '_Il n'y aura pas de vie pour nous_.' All
the night, scattered groups were assembled around the fires, smoking
their pipes, and listening with the greatest eagerness to exaggerated
details of Indian hostilities; and in the morning I found the camp
dispirited, and agitated by a variety of conflicting opinions. A
majority of the people were strongly disposed to return; but Clement
Lambert, with some five or six others, professed their determination to
follow Mr. Fremont to the uttermost limit of his journey. The others
yielded to their remonstrances, and somewhat ashamed of their
cowardice, concluded to advance at least as far as Laramie fork,
eastward of which they were aware no danger was to be apprehended.
Notwithstanding the confusion and excitement, we were very early on the
road, as the days were extremely hot, and we were anxious to profit by
the freshness of the morning. The soft marly formation, over which we
were now journeying, frequently offers to the traveler views of
remarkable and picturesque beauty. To several of these localities,
where the winds and the rain have worked the bluffs into curious
shapes, the voyageurs have given names according to some fancied
resemblance. One of these, called the _Court-house_, we passed about
six miles from our encampment of last night, and towards noon came in
sight of the celebrated _Chimney rock_. It looks, at this distance of
about thirty miles, like what it is called--the long chimney of a steam
factory establishment, or a shot tower in Baltimore. Nothing occurred
to interrupt the quiet of the day, and we encamped on the river, after
a march of twenty-four miles. Buffalo had become very scarce, and but
one cow had been killed, of which the meat had been cut into thin
slices, and hung around the carts to dry.

"10th.--We continued along the same fine plainly beaten road, which the
smooth surface of the country afforded us, for a distance of six
hundred and thirty miles, from the frontiers of Missouri to the Laramie
fork. In the course of the day we met some whites, who were following
along in the train of Mr. Bridger; and, after a day's journey of
twenty-four miles, encamped about sunset at the Chimney rock. It
consists of marl and earthy limestone, and the weather is rapidly
diminishing its height, which is not more than two hundred feet above
the river. Travelers who visited it some years since, placed its height
at upwards of 500 feet.

"11th.--The valley of the North fork is of a variable breadth, from one
to four, and sometimes six miles. Fifteen miles from the Chimney rock
we reached one of those places where the river strikes the bluffs, and
forces the road to make a considerable circuit over the uplands. This
presented an escarpment on the river of about nine hundred yards in
length, and is familiarly known as Scott's bluffs. We had made a
journey of thirty miles before we again struck the river, at a place
where some scanty grass afforded an insufficient pasturage to our
animals. About twenty miles from the Chimney rock we had found a very
beautiful spring of excellent and cold water; but it was in such a deep
ravine, and so small, that the animals could not profit by it, and we
therefore halted only a few minutes, and found a resting-place ten
miles further on. The plain between Scott's bluffs and Chimney rock was
almost entirely covered with drift-wood, consisting principally of
cedar, which, we were informed, had been supplied from the Black hills,
in a flood five or six years since.

"12th.--Nine miles from our encampment of yesterday we crossed Horse
creek, a shallow stream of clear water, about seventy yards wide,
falling into the Platte on the right bank. It was lightly timbered, and
great quantities of drift-wood were piled up on the banks, appearing to
be supplied by the creek from above. After a journey of twenty-six
miles, we encamped on a rich bottom, which afforded fine grass to our
animals. Buffalo have entirely disappeared, and we live now upon the
dried meat, which is exceedingly poor food. The marl and earthy
limestone, which constituted the formation for several days past, had
changed, during the day, into a compact white or grayish-white
limestone, sometimes containing hornstone; and at the place of our
encampment this evening, some strata in the river hills cropped out to
the height of thirty or forty feet, consisting of fine-grained granitic
sandstone; one of the strata closely resembling gneiss.

"13th.--To-day, about four o'clock, we reached Fort Laramie, where we
were cordially received. We pitched our camp a little above the fort,
on the bank of the Laramie river, in which the pure and clear water of
the mountain stream looked refreshingly cool, and made a pleasant
contrast to the muddy, yellow waters of the Platte."

I walked up to visit our friends at the fort, which is a quadrangular
structure, built of clay, after the fashion of the Mexicans, who are
generally employed in building them. The walls are about fifteen feet
high, surmounted with a wooden palisade, and form a portion of ranges
of houses, which entirely surround a yard of about one hundred and
thirty feet square. Every apartment has its door and window,--all, of
course, opening on the inside. There are two entrances, opposite each
other, and midway the wall, one of which is a large and public
entrance; the other smaller and more private--a sort of postern gate.
Over the great entrance is a square tower with loopholes, and, like the
rest of the work, built of earth. At two of the angles, and diagonally
opposite each other, are large square bastions, so arranged as to sweep
the four faces of the walls.

This post belongs to the American Fur Company, and, at the time of our
visit, was in charge of Mr. Boudeau. Two of the company's clerks,
Messrs. Galpin and Kellogg, were with him, and he had in the fort about
sixteen men. As usual, these had found wives among the Indian squaws;
and, with the usual accompaniment of children, the place had quite a
populous appearance. It is hardly necessary to say, that the object of
the establishment is trade with the neighboring tribes, who, in the
course of the year, generally make two or three visits to the fort. In
addition to this, traders, with a small outfit, are constantly kept
amongst them. The articles of trade consist, on the one side, almost
entirely of buffalo robes; and, on the other, of blankets, calicoes,
guns, powder and lead, with such cheap ornaments as glass beads,
looking-glasses, rings, vermilion for painting, tobacco, and
principally, and in spite of the prohibition, of spirits, brought into
the country in the form of alcohol, and diluted with water before sold.
While mentioning this fact, it is but justice to the American Fur
Company to state, that, throughout the country, I have always found
them strenuously opposed to the introduction of spirituous liquors. But
in the present state of things, when the country is supplied with
alcohol--when a keg of it will purchase from an Indian every thing he
possesses--his furs, his lodge, his horses, and even his wife and
children--and when any vagabond who has money enough to purchase a mule
can go into a village and trade against them successfully, without
withdrawing entirely from the trade, it is impossible for them to
discontinue its use. In their opposition to this practice, the company
is sustained, not only by their obligation to the laws of the country
and the welfare of the Indians, but clearly, also, on grounds of
policy; for, with heavy and expensive outfits, they contend at
manifestly great disadvantage against the numerous independent and
unlicensed traders, who enter the country from various avenues, from
the United States and from Mexico, having no other stock in trade than
some kegs of liquor, which they sell at the modest price of thirty-six
dollars per gallon. The difference between the regular trader and the
_coureur des bois_, (as the French call the itinerant or peddling
traders,) with respect to the sale of spirits, is here, as it always
has been, fixed and permanent, and growing out of the nature of their
trade. The regular trader looks ahead, and has an interest in the
preservation of the Indians, and in the regular pursuit of their
business, and the preservation of their arms, horses, and every thing
necessary to their future and permanent success in hunting: the
_coureur des bois_ has no permanent interest, and gets what he can, and
for what he can, from every Indian he meets, even at the risk of
disabling him from doing any thing more at hunting.

The fort had a very cool and clean appearance. The great entrance, in
which I found the gentlemen assembled, and which was floored, and about
fifteen feet long, made a pleasant, shaded seat, through which the
breeze swept constantly; for this country is famous for high winds. In
the course of the conversation, I learned the following particulars,
which will explain the condition of the country. For several years the
Cheyennes and Sioux had gradually become more and more hostile to the
whites, and in the latter part of August, 1841, had had a rather severe
engagement with a party of sixty men, under the command of Mr. Frapp of
St. Louis. The Indians lost eight or ten warriors, and the whites had
their leader and four men killed. This fight took place on the waters
of Snake river; and it was this party, on their return under Mr.
Bridger, which had spread so much alarm among my people. In the course
of the spring, two other small parties had been cut off by the
Sioux--one on their return from the Crow nation, and the other among
the Black hills. The emigrants to Oregon and Mr. Bridger's party met
here, a few days before our arrival. Divisions and misunderstandings
had grown up among them; they were already somewhat disheartened by the
fatigue of their long and wearisome journey, and the feet of their
cattle had become so much worn as to be scarcely able to travel. In
this situation, they were not likely to find encouragement in the
hostile attitude of the Indians, and the new and unexpected
difficulties which sprang up before them. They were told that the
country was entirely swept of grass, and that few or no buffalo were to
be found on their line of route; and, with their weakened animals, it
would be impossible for them to transport their heavy wagons over the
mountains. Under these circumstances, they disposed of their wagons and
cattle at the forts; selling them at the prices they had paid in the
States, and taking in exchange coffee and sugar at one dollar a pound,
and miserable worn-out horses, which died before they reached the
mountains. Mr. Boudeau informed me that he had purchased thirty, and
the lower fort eighty head of fine cattle, some of them of the Durham
breed. Mr. Fitzpatrick, whose name and high reputation are familiar to
all who interest themselves in the history of this country, had reached
Laramie in company with Mr. Bridger; and the emigrants were fortunate
enough to obtain his services to guide them as far as the British post
of Fort Hall, about two hundred and fifty miles beyond the South Pass
of the mountains. They had started for this post on the 4th of July,
and immediately after their departure, a war party of three hundred and
fifty braves set out upon their trail. As their principal chief or
partisan had lost some relations in the recent fight, and had sworn to
kill the first whites on his path, it was supposed that their intention
was to attack the party, should a favorable opportunity offer; or, if
they were foiled in their principal object by the vigilance of Mr.
Fitzpatrick, content themselves with stealing horses and cutting off
stragglers. These had been gone but a few days previous to our arrival.

The effect of the engagement with Mr. Frapp had been greatly to
irritate the hostile spirit of the savages; and immediately subsequent
to that event, the Gross Ventre Indians had united with the Oglallahs
and Cheyennes, and taken the field in great force--so far as I could
ascertain, to the amount of eight hundred lodges. Their object was to
make an attack on a camp of Snake and Crow Indians, and a body of about
one hundred whites, who had made a rendezvous somewhere in the Green
river valley, or on the Sweet Water. After spending some time in
buffalo hunting in the neighborhood of the Medicine Bow mountain, they
were to cross over to the Green river waters, and return to Laramie by
way of the South Pass and the Sweet Water valley. According to the
calculation of the Indians, Mr. Boudeau informed me they were somewhere
near the head of the Sweet Water. I subsequently learned that the party
led by Mr. Fitzpatrick were overtaken by their pursuers near Rock
Independence, in the valley of the Sweet Water; but his skill and
resolution saved them from surprise; and, small as his force was; they
did not venture to attack him openly. Here they lost one of their party
by an accident, and, continuing up the valley, they came suddenly upon
the large village. From these they met with a doubtful reception. Long
residence and familiar acquaintance had given to Mr. Fitzpatrick great
personal influence among them, and a portion of them were disposed to
let him pass quietly; but by far the greater number were inclined to
hostile measures; and the chiefs spent the whole of one night, during
which they kept the little party in the midst of them, in council,
debating the question of attacking them the next day; but the influence
of "the Broken Hand," as they called Mr. Fitzpatrick, (one of his hands
having been shattered by the bursting of a gun,) at length prevailed,
and obtained for them an unmolested passage; but they sternly assured
him that this path was no longer open, and that any party of the whites
which should hereafter be found upon it would meet with certain
destruction. From all that I have been able to learn, I have no doubt
that the emigrants owe their lives to Mr. Fitzpatrick.

Thus it would appear that the country was swarming with scattered war
parties; and when I heard, during the day, the various contradictory
and exaggerated rumors which were incessantly repeated to them, I was
not surprised that so much alarm prevailed among my men. Carson, one of
the best and most experienced mountaineers, fully supported the opinion
given by Bridger of the dangerous state of the country, and openly
expressed his conviction that we could not escape without some sharp
encounters with the Indians. In addition to this, he made his will; and
among the circumstances which were constantly occurring to increase
their alarm, this was the most unfortunate; and I found that a number
of my party had become so much intimidated, that they had requested to
be discharged at this place. I dined to-day at Fort Platte, which has
been mentioned as situated at the junction of Laramie river with the
Nebraska. Here I heard a confirmation of the statements given above.
The party of warriors, which had started a few days since on the trail
of the emigrants, was expected back in fourteen days, to join the
village with which their families and the old men had remained. The
arrival of the latter was hourly expected; and some Indians have just
come in who had left them on the Laramie fork, about twenty miles
above. Mr. Bissonette, one of the traders belonging to Fort Platte,
urged the propriety of taking with me an interpreter and two or three
old men of the village; in which case, he thought there would be little
or no hazard in encountering any of the war parties The principal
danger was in being attacked before they should know who we were.

They had a confused idea of the numbers and power of our people, and
dreaded to bring upon themselves the military force of the United
States. This gentleman, who spoke the language fluently, offered his
services to accompany me so far as the Red Buttes. He was desirous to
join the large party on its return, for purposes of trade, and it would
suit his views, as well as my own, to go with us to the Buttes; beyond
which point it would be impossible to prevail on a Sioux to venture, on
account of their fear of the Crows. From Fort Laramie to the Red
Buttes, by the ordinary road, is one hundred and thirty-five miles;
and, though only on the threshold of danger, it seemed better to secure
the services of an interpreter for the partial distance, than to have
none at all.

So far as frequent interruption from the Indians would allow, we
occupied ourselves in making some astronomical calculations, and
bringing the general map to this stage of our journey; but the tent was
generally occupied by a succession of our ceremonious visitors. Some
came for presents, and others for information of our object in coming
to the country; now and then, one would dart up to the tent on
horseback, jerk off his trappings, and stand silently at the door,
holding his horse by the halter, signifying his desire to trade.
Occasionally a savage would stalk in with an invitation to a feast of
honor, a dog feast, and deliberately sit down and wait quietly until I
was ready to accompany him. I went to one; the women and children were
sitting outside the lodge, and we took our seats on buffalo robes
spread around. The dog was in a large pot over the fire, in the middle
of the lodge, and immediately on our arrival was dished up in large
wooden bowls, one of which was handed to each. The flesh appeared very
glutinous, with something of the flavor and appearance of mutton.
Feeling something move behind me, I looked round and found that I had
taken my seat among a litter of fat young puppies. Had I been nice in
such matters, the prejudices of civilization might have interfered with
my tranquillity; but, fortunately, I am not of delicate nerves, and
continued quietly to empty my platter.

The weather was cloudy at evening, with a moderate south wind, and the
thermometer at six o'clock 85°. I was disappointed in my hope of
obtaining an observation of an occultation, which took place about
midnight. The moon brought with her heavy banks of clouds, through
which she scarcely made her appearance during the night.

The morning of the 18th was cloudy and calm, the thermometer at six
o'clock at 64°. About nine, with a moderate wind from the west, a storm
of rain came on, accompanied by sharp thunder and lightning, which
lasted about an hour. During the day the expected village arrived,
consisting principally of old men, women, and children. They had a
considerable number of horses, and large troops of dogs. Their lodges
were pitched near the fort, and our camp was constantly crowded with
Indians of all sizes, from morning until night, at which time some of
the soldiers generally came to drive them all off to the village. My
tent was the only place which they respected. Here only came the chiefs
and men of distinction, and generally one of them remained to drive
away the women and children. The numerous strange instruments, applied
to still stranger uses, excited awe and admiration among them; and
those which I used in talking with the sun and stars they looked upon
with especial reverence, as mysterious things of "great medicine."

Of the three barometers which I had brought with me thus far
successfully, I found that two were out of order, and spent the greater
part of the 19th in repairing them--an operation of no small difficulty
in the midst of the incessant interruptions to which I was subjected.
We had the misfortune to break here a large thermometer, graduated to
show fifths of a degree, which I used to ascertain the temperature of
boiling water, and with which I had promised myself some interesting
experiments in the mountains. We had but one remaining, on which the
graduation extended sufficiently high; and this was too small for exact
observations. During our stay here, the men had been engaged in making
numerous repairs, arranging pack-saddles, and otherwise preparing for
the chance of a rough road and mountain travel. All things of this
nature being ready, I gathered them around me in the evening, and told
them that "I had determined to proceed the next day. They were all well
armed. I had engaged the services of Mr. Bissonette as interpreter, and
had taken, in the circumstances, every possible means to ensure our
safety. In the rumors we had heard, I believed there was much
exaggeration; that they were men accustomed to this kind of life and to
the country; and that these were the dangers of every-day occurrence,
and to be expected in the ordinary course of their service. They had
heard of the unsettled condition of the country before leaving St.
Louis, and therefore could not make it a reason for breaking their
engagements. Still, I was unwilling to take with me, on a service of
some certain danger, men on whom I could not rely; and I had understood
that there were among them some who were disposed to cowardice, and
anxious to return; they had but to come forward at once, and state
their desire, and they would be discharged, with the amount due to them
for the time they had served." To their honor be it said, there was but
one among them who had the face to come forward and avail himself of
the permission. I asked him some few questions, in order to expose him
to the ridicule of the men, and let him go. The day after our
departure, he engaged himself to one of the forts, and set off with a
party to the Upper Missouri. I did not think that the situation of the
country justified me in taking our young companions, Messrs. Brant and
Benton, along with us. In case of misfortune, it would have been
thought, at the least, an act of great imprudence; and therefore,
though reluctantly, I determined to leave them. Randolph had been the
life of the camp, and the "_petit garçon_" was much regretted by the
men, to whom his buoyant spirits had afforded great amusement. They
all, however, agreed in the propriety of leaving him at the fort,
because, as they said, he might cost the lives of some of the men in a
fight with the Indians.

21st.--A portion of our baggage, with our field-notes and observations,
and several instruments, were left at the fort. One of the gentlemen,
Mr. Galpin, took charge of a barometer, which he engaged to observe
during my absence; and I in trusted to Randolph, by way of occupation,
the regular winding up of two of my chronometers, which were among the
instruments left. Our observations showed that the chronometer which I
retained for the continuation of our voyage had preserved its rate in a
most satisfactory manner. As deduced from it, the longitude of Fort
Laramie is 7h 01' 21", and from Lunar distance 7h 01' 29"; giving for
the adopted longitude 104° 47' 43". Comparing the barometrical
observations made during our stay here, with those of Dr. G. Engleman
at St. Louis, we find for the elevation of the fort above the Gulf of
Mexico 4,470 feet. The winter climate here is remarkably mild for the
latitude; but rainy weather is frequent, and the place is celebrated
for winds, of which the prevailing one is the west. An east wind in
summer, and a south wind in winter, are said to be always accompanied
with rain.

We were ready to depart; the tents were struck, the mules geared up,
and our horses saddled, and we walked up to the fort to take the
_stirrup cup_ with our friends in an excellent home-brewed preparation.
While thus pleasantly engaged, seated in one of the little cool
chambers, at the door of which a man had been stationed to prevent all
intrusion from the Indians, a number of chiefs, several of them
powerful, fine-looking men, forced their way into the room in spite of
all opposition. Handing me the following letter, they took their seats
in silence:--

"FORT PLATTE, Juillet 21, 1842.

"Mr. Fremont:--Les chefs s'étant assemblés présentement me disent de
vous avertir de ne point vous mettre en route, avant que le parti de
jeunes gens, qui est en dehors, soient de retour. De plus, ils me
disent qu'ils sont très-certains qu'ils feront feu à la première
rencontre. Ils doivent être de retour dans sept à huit jours. Excusez
si je vous fais ces observations, mais il me semble qu'il est mon
devoir de vous avertir du danger. Même de plus, les chefs sont les
porteurs de ce billet, qui vous defendent de partir avant le retour des
guerriers.

"Je suis votre obéissant serviteur, "JOSEPH BISSONETTE, "Par L.B.
CHARTRAIN.


"_Les noms de quelques chefs_.--Le Chapeau de Loutre, le Casseur de
Flèches, la Nuit Noir, la Queue de Boeuf."

[Translation.]

"FORT PLATTE, July 21, 1842.

"MR. FREMONT:--The chiefs having assembled in council, have just told
me to warn you not to set out before the party of young men which is
now out shall have returned. Furthermore, they tell me that they are
very sure they will fire upon you as soon as they meet you. They are
expected back in seven or eight days. Excuse me for making these
observations, but it seems my duty to warn you of danger. Moreover, the
chiefs who prohibit your setting out before the return of the warriors
are the bearers of this note.

"I am your obedient servant,
  "JOSEPH BISSONETTE,
    "By L.B. CHARTRAIN.


"_Names of some of the chiefs_.--The Otter Hat, the Breaker of Arrows,
the Black Night, the Bull's Tail."

After reading this, I mentioned its purport to my companions; and,
seeing that all were fully possessed of its contents, one of the
Indians rose up, and, having first shaken hands with me, spoke as
follows:

"You have come among us at a bad time. Some of our people have been
killed, and our young men, who are gone to the mountains, are eager to
avenge the blood of their relations, which has been shed by the whites.
Our young men are bad, and, if they meet you, they will believe that
you are carrying goods and ammunition to their enemies, and will fire
upon you. You have told us that this will make war. We know that our
great father has many soldiers and big guns, and we are anxious to have
our lives. We love the whites, and are desirous of peace. Thinking of
all these things, we have determined to keep you here until our
warriors return. We are glad to see you among us. Our father is rich,
and we expected that you would have brought presents to us--horses,
guns, and blankets. But we are glad to see you. We look upon your
coming as the light which goes before the sun; for you will tell our
great father that you have seen us, and that we are naked and poor, and
have nothing to eat; and he will send us all these things." He was
followed by others to the same effect.

The observations of the savage appeared reasonable; but I was aware
that they had in view only the present object of detaining me, and were
unwilling I should go further into the country. In reply, I asked them,
through the interpretation of Mr. Boudeau, to select two or three of
their number to accompany us until we should meet their people--they
should spread their robes in my tent, and eat at my table, and on their
return I would give them presents in reward of their services. They
declined, saying, that there were no young men left in the village, and
that they were too old to travel so many days on horseback, and
preferred now to smoke their pipes in the lodge, and let the warriors
go on the war-path. Besides, they had no power over the young men, and
were afraid to interfere with them. In my turn I addressed them.

"You say that you love the whites; why have you killed so many already
this spring? You say that you love the whites, and are full of many
expressions of friendship to us; but you are not willing to undergo the
fatigue of a few days' ride to save our lives. We do not believe what
you have said, and will not listen to you. Whatever a chief among us,
tells his soldiers to do, is done. We are the soldiers of the great
chief, your father. He has told us to come here and see this country,
and all the Indians, his children. Why should we not go? Before we
came, we heard that you had killed his people, and ceased to be his
children; but we came among you peaceably, holding out our hands. Now
we find that the stories we heard are not lies, and that you are no
longer his friends and children. We have thrown away our bodies, and
will not turn back. When you told us that your young men would kill us,
you did not know that our hearts were strong, and you did not see the
rifles which my young men carry in their hands. We are few, and you are
many, and may kill us all; but there will be much crying in your
villages, for many of your young men will stay behind, and forget to
return with your warriors from the mountains. Do you think that our
great chief will let his soldiers die, and forget to cover their
graves? Before the snows melt again, his warriors will sweep away your
villages as the fire does the prairie in the autumn. See! I have pulled
down my _white houses_, and my people are ready: when the sun is ten
paces higher, we shall be on the march. If you have any thing to tell
us, you will say it soon."

I broke up the conference, as I could do nothing with these people;
and, being resolved to proceed, nothing was to be gained by delay.
Accompanied by our hospitable friends, we returned to the camp. We had
mounted our horses, and our parting salutations had been exchanged,
when one of the chiefs (the Bull's Tail) arrived to tell me that they
had determined to send a young man with us; and if I would point out
the place of our evening camp, he should join us there. "The young man
is poor," said he; "he has no horse, and expects you to give him one."
I described to him the place where I intended to encamp, and, shaking
hands, in a few minutes we were among the hills, and this last
habitation of whites shut out from our view.

The road led over an interesting plateau between the North fork of the
Platte on the right, and Laramie river on the left. At the distance of
ten miles from the fort, we entered the sandy bed of a creek, a kind of
defile, shaded by precipitous rocks, down which we wound our way for
several hundred yards, to a place where, on the left bank, a very large
spring gushes with considerable noise and force out of the limestone
rock. It is called the "Warm Spring," and furnishes to the hitherto dry
bed of the creek a considerable rivulet. On the opposite side, a little
below the spring, is a lofty limestone escarpment, partially shaded by
a grove of large trees, whose green foliage, in contrast with the
whiteness of the rock, renders this a picturesque locality. The rock is
fossiliferous, and, so far as I was able to determine the character of
the fossils, belongs to the carboniferous limestone of the Missouri
river, and is probably the western limit of that formation. Beyond this
point I met with no fossils of any description.

I was desirous to visit the Platte near the point where it leaves the
Black hills, and therefore followed this stream, for two or three
miles, to its mouth, where I encamped on a spot which afforded good
grass and _prele (equisetum)_ for our animals. Our tents having been
found too thin to protect ourselves and the instruments from the rains,
which in this elevated country are attended with cold and unpleasant
weather, I had procured from the Indians at Laramie a tolerably large
lodge, about eighteen feet in diameter, and twenty feet in height. Such
a lodge, when properly pitched, is, from its conical form, almost
perfectly secure against the violent winds which are frequent in this
region, and, with a fire in the centre, is a dry and warm shelter in
bad weather. By raising the lower part, so as to permit the breeze to
pass freely, it is converted into a pleasant summer residence, with the
extraordinary advantage of being entirely free from musquitoes, one of
which I never saw in an Indian lodge. While we were engaged very
unskilfully in erecting this, the interpreter, Mr. Bissonette, arrived,
accompanied by the Indian and his wife. She laughed at our awkwardness,
and offered her assistance, of which we were frequently afterwards
obliged to avail our selves, before the men acquired sufficient
expertness to pitch it without difficulty. From this place we had a
fine view of the gorge where the Platte issues from the Black hills,
changing its character abruptly from a mountain stream into a river of
the plains. Immediately around us the valley of the stream was
tolerably open; and at the distance of a few miles, where the river had
cut its way through the hills, was the narrow cleft, on one side of
which a lofty precipice of bright red rock rose vertically above the
low hills which lay between us.

22d.--In the morning, while breakfast was being prepared, I visited
this place with my favorite man, Basil Lajeunesse. Entering so far as
there was footing for the mules, we dismounted, and, tying our animals,
continued our way on foot. Like the whole country, the scenery of the
river had undergone an entire change, and was in this place the most
beautiful I have ever seen. The breadth of the stream, generally near
that of its valley, was from two to three hundred feet, with a swift
current, occasionally broken by rapids, and the water perfectly clear.
On either side rose the red precipices, and sometimes overhanging, two
and four hundred feet in height, crowned with green summits, on which
were scattered a few pines. At the foot of the rocks was the usual
detritus, formed of masses fallen from above. Among the pines that grew
here, and on the occasional banks, were the cherry, (_cerasus
virginiana_,) currants, and grains de boeuf, (_shepherdia argentea_.)
Viewed in the sunshine of a pleasant morning, the scenery was of a most
striking and romantic beauty, which arose from the picturesque
disposition of the objects, and the vivid contrast of colors. I thought
with much pleasure of our approaching descent in the canoe through such
interesting places; and, in the expectation of being able at that time
to give to them a full examination, did not now dwell so much as might
have been desirable upon the geological formations along the line of
the river, where they are developed with great clearness. The upper
portion of the red strata consists of very compact clay, in which are
occasionally seen imbedded large pebbles. Below was a stratum of
compact red sandstone, changing a little above the river into a very
hard silicious limestone. There is a small but handsome open prairie
immediately below this place, on the left bank of the river, which
would be a good locality for a military post. There are some open
groves of cottonwood on the Platte. The small stream which comes in at
this place is well timbered with pine, and good building rock is
abundant.

If it is in contemplation to keep open the communication with Oregon
territory, a show of military force in this country is absolutely
necessary; and a combination of advantages renders the neighborhood of
Fort Laramie the most suitable place, on the line of the Platte, for
the establishment of a military post. It is connected with the mouth of
the Platte and the Upper Missouri by excellent roads, which are in
frequent use, and would not in any way interfere with the range of the
buffalo, on which the neighboring Indians mainly depend for support. It
would render any posts on the Lower Platte unnecessary; the ordinary
communication between it and the Missouri being sufficient to control
the intermediate Indians. It would operate effectually to prevent any
such coalitions as are now formed among the Gros Ventres, Sioux,
Cheyennes, and other Indians, and would keep the Oregon road through
the valley of the Sweet Water and the South Pass of the mountains
constantly open. It lies at the foot of a broken and mountainous
region, along which, by the establishment of small posts in the
neighborhood of St. Vrain's fort, on the South fork of the Platte, and
Bent's fort, on the Arkansas, a line of communication would be formed,
by good wagon-roads, with our southern military posts, which would
entirely command the mountain passes, hold some of the most troublesome
tribes in check, and protect and facilitate our intercourse with the
neighboring Spanish settlements. The valleys of the rivers on which
they would be situated are fertile; the country, which supports immense
herds of buffalo, is admirably adapted to grazing; and herds of cattle
might be maintained by the posts, or obtained from the Spanish country,
which already supplies a portion of their provisions to the trading
posts mentioned above.

Just as we were leaving the camp this morning, our Indian came up, and
stated his intention of not proceeding any further until he had seen
the horse which I intended to give him. I felt strongly tempted to
drive him out of the camp; but his presence appeared to give confidence
to my men, and the interpreter thought it absolutely necessary. I was
therefore obliged to do what he requested, and pointed out the animal,
with which he seemed satisfied, and we continued our journey. I had
imagined that Mr. Bissonette's long residence had made him acquainted
with the country; and, according to his advice, proceeded directly
forward, without attempting to gain the usual road. He afterwards
informed me that he had rarely ever lost sight of the fort; but the
effect of the mistake was to involve us for a day or two among the
hills, where, although we lost no time, we encountered an exceedingly
rough road.

To the south, along our line of march to-day, the main chain of the
Black or Laramie hills rises precipitously. Time did not permit me to
visit them; but, from comparative information, the ridge is composed of
the coarse sandstone or conglomerate hereafter described. It appears to
enter the region of clouds, which are arrested in their course, and lie
in masses along the summits. An inverted cone of black cloud (cumulus)
rested during all the forenoon on the lofty peak of Laramie mountain,
which I estimated to be about two thousand feet above the fort, or six
thousand five hundred above the sea. We halted to noon on the _Fourche
Amere_, so called from being timbered principally with the _liard
amere_, (a species of poplar,) with which the valley of the little
stream is tolerably well wooded, and which, with large expansive
summits, grows to the height of sixty or seventy feet.

The bed of the creek is sand and gravel, the water dispersed over the
broad bed in several shallow streams. We found here, on the right bank,
in the shade of the trees, a fine spring of very cold water. It will be
remarked that I do not mention, in this portion of the journey, the
temperature of the air, sand, springs, &c.--an omission which will be
explained in the course of the narrative. In my search for plants, I
was well rewarded at this place.

With the change in the geological formation on leaving Fort Laramie,
the whole face of the country has entirely altered its appearance.
Eastward of that meridian, the principal objects which strike the eye
of a traveler are the absence of timber, and the immense expanse of
prairie, covered with the verdure of rich grasses, and highly adapted
for pasturage. Wherever they are not disturbed by the vicinity of man,
large herds of buffalo give animation to this country. Westward of
Laramie river, the region is sandy, and apparently sterile; and the
place of the grass is usurped by the _artemisia_ and other odoriferous
plants, to whose growth the sandy soil and dry air of this elevated
region seem highly favorable.

One of the prominent characteristics in the face of the country is the
extraordinary abundance of the _artemisias_. They grow everywhere--on
the hills, and over the river bottoms, in tough, twisted, wiry clumps;
and, wherever the beaten track was left, they rendered the progress of
the carts rough and slow. As the country increased in elevation on our
advance to the west, they increased in size; and the whole air is
strongly impregnated and saturated with the odor of camphor and spirits
of turpentine which belongs to this plant. This climate has been found
very favorable to the restoration of health, particularly in cases of
consumption; and possibly the respiration of air so highly impregnated
with aromatic plants may have some influence.

Our dried meat had given out, and we began to be in want of food; but
one of the hunters killed an antelope this evening, which afforded some
relief, although it did not go far among so many hungry men. At eight
o'clock at night, after a march of twenty-seven miles, we reached our
proposed encampment on the _Fer-à-Cheval_, or Horse-shoe creek. Here we
found good grass, with a great quantity of _prele_, which furnished
good food for our tired animals. This creek is well timbered,
principally with _liard amere_, and, with the exception of Deer creek,
which we had not yet reached, is the largest affluent of the right bank
between Laramie and the mouth of the Sweet Water.

23d.--The present year had been one of unparalleled drought, and
throughout the country the water had been almost dried up. By availing
themselves of the annual rise, the traders had invariably succeeded in
carrying their furs to the Missouri; but this season, as has already
been mentioned, on both forks of the Platte they had entirely failed.
The greater number of the springs, and many of the streams, which made
halting places for the _voyageurs_, had been dried up. Everywhere the
soil looked parched and burnt, the scanty yellow grass crisped under
the foot, and even the hardest plants were destroyed by want of
moisture. I think it necessary to mention this fact, because to the
rapid evaporation in such an elevated region, nearly five thousand feet
above the sea, almost wholly unprotected by timber, should be
attributed much of the sterile appearance of the country, in the
destruction of vegetation, and the numerous saline efflorescences which
covered the ground. Such I afterwards found to be the case.

I was informed that the roving villages of Indians and travelers had
never met with difficulty in finding abundance of grass for their
horses; and now it was after great search that we were able to find a
scanty patch of grass sufficient to keep them from sinking; and in the
course of a day or two they began to suffer very much. We found none
to-day at noon; and, in the course of our search on the Platte, came to
a grove of cottonwood, where some Indian village had recently encamped.
Boughs of the cottonwood yet green covered the ground, which the
Indians had cut down to feed their horses upon. It is only in the
winter that recourse is had to this means of sustaining them; and their
resort to it at this time was a striking evidence of the state of the
country. We followed their example, and turned our horses into a grove
of young poplars. This began to present itself as a very serious evil,
for on our animals depended altogether the further prosecution of our
journey.

Shortly after we had left this place, the scouts came galloping in with
the alarm of Indians. We turned in immediately towards the river, which
here had a steep, high bank, where we formed with the carts a very
close barricade, resting on the river, within which the animals were
strongly hobbled and picketed. The guns were discharged and reloaded,
and men thrown forward under cover of the bank, in the direction by
which the Indians were expected. Our interpreter, who, with the Indian,
had gone to meet them, came in, in about ten minutes, accompanied by
two Sioux. They looked sulky, and we could obtain from them only some
confused information. We learned that they belonged to the party which
had been on the trail of the emigrants, whom they had overtaken at Rock
Independence, on the Sweet Water. Here the party had disagreed, and
came nigh fighting among themselves. One portion were desirous of
attacking the whites, but the others were opposed to it; and finally
they had broken up into small bands, and dispersed over the country.
The greatest portion of them had gone over into the territory of the
Crows, and intended to return by way of the Wind River valley, in the
hope of being able to fall upon some small parties of Crow Indians. The
remainder were returning down the Platte, in scattered parties of ten
and twenty; and those whom we had encountered belonged to those who had
advocated an attack on the emigrants. Several of the men suggested
shooting them on the spot; but I promptly discountenanced any such
proceeding. They further informed me that buffalo were very scarce, and
little or no grass to be found. There had been no rain, and innumerable
quantities of grasshoppers had destroyed the grass. The insects had
been so numerous since leaving Fort Laramie, that the ground seemed
alive with them; and in walking, a little moving cloud preceded our
footsteps. This was bad news. No grass, no buffalo--food for neither
horse nor man. I gave them some plugs of tobacco, and they went off,
apparently well satisfied to be clear of us; for my men did not look
upon them very lovingly, and they glanced suspiciously at our warlike
preparations, and the little ring of rifles which surrounded them. They
were evidently in a bad humor, and shot one of their horses when they
had left us a short distance.

We continued our march; and after a journey of about twenty-one miles,
encamped on the Platte. During the day, I had occasionally remarked
among the hills the _psoralea esculenta_, the bread root of the
Indians. The Sioux use this root very extensively, and I have
frequently met with it among them, cut into thin slices and dried. In
the course of the evening we were visited by six Indians, who told us
that a large party was encamped a few miles above. Astronomical
observations placed us in longitude 104° 59' 59", and latitude 42° 29'
25".

We made the next day twenty-two miles, and encamped on the right bank
of the Platte, where a handsome meadow afforded tolerably good grass.
There were the remains of an old fort here, thrown up in some sudden
emergency, and on the opposite side was a picturesque bluff of
ferruginous sandstone. There was a handsome grove a little above, and
scattered groups of trees bordered the river. Buffalo made their
appearance this afternoon, and the hunters came in, shortly after we
had encamped, with three fine cows. The night was fine, and
observations gave for the latitude of the camp, 42° 47' 40".

25th.--We made but thirteen miles this day, and encamped about noon in
a pleasant grove on the right bank. Low scaffolds were erected, upon
which the meat was laid, cut up into thin strips, and small fires
kindled below. Our object was to profit by the vicinity of the buffalo,
to lay in a stock of provisions for ten or fifteen days. In the course
of the afternoon the hunters brought in five or six cows, and all hands
were kept busily employed in preparing the meat, to the drying of which
the guard attended during the night. Our people had recovered their
gayety, and the busy figures around the blazing fires gave a
picturesque air to the camp. A very serious accident occurred this
morning, in the breaking of one of the barometers. These had been the
object of my constant solicitude, and, as I had intended them
principally for mountain service, I had used them as seldom as
possible, taking them always down at night, and on the occurrence of
storms, in order to lessen the chances of being broken. I was reduced
to one, a standard barometer of Troughton's construction. This I
determined to preserve, if possible. The latitude is 42° 51' 35", and
by a mean of the results from chronometer and lunar distances, the
adopted longitude of this camp is 105° 50' 45".

26th.--Early this morning we were again in motion. We had a stock of
provisions for fifteen days carefully stored away in the carts, and
this I resolved should only be encroached upon when our rifles should
fail to procure us present support. I determined to reach the
mountains, if it were in any way possible. In the mean time, buffalo
were plenty. In six miles from our encampment (which, by way of
distinction, we shall call Dried Meat camp) we crossed a handsome
stream, called _La Fourche Boisce_. It is well timbered, and, among the
flowers in bloom on its banks, I remarked several _asters_.

Five miles further, we made our noon halt on the banks of the Platte,
in the shade of some cottonwoods. There were here, as generally now
along the river, thickets of _hippophæ_, the _grains de boeuf_ of the
country. They were of two kinds--one bearing a red berry, (the
_shepherdia argentea_ of Nuttall;) the other a yellow berry, of which
the Tartars are said to make a kind of rob.

By a meridian observation, the latitude of the place was 42° 50' 08".
It was my daily practice to take observations of the sun's meridian
altitude; and why they are not given, will appear in the sequel. Eight
miles further we reached the mouth of Deer creek, where we encamped.
Here was abundance of rich grass, and our animals were compensated for
past privations. This stream was at this time twenty feet broad, and
well timbered with cottonwood of an uncommon size. It is the largest
tributary of the Platte, between the mouth of the Sweet Water and the
Laramie. Our astronomical observations gave for the mouth of the stream
a longitude of 106° 08' 24", and latitude 42° 52' 24".

27th.--Nothing worthy of mention occurred on this day; we traveled
later than usual, having spent some time searching for grass, crossing
and recrossing the river before we could find a sufficient quantity for
our animals. Towards dusk we encamped among some artemisia bushes, two
and three feet in height, where some scattered patches of short tough
grass afforded a scanty supply. In crossing, we had occasion to observe
that the river was frequently too deep to be forded, though we always
succeeded in finding a place where the water did not enter the carts.
The stream continued very clear, with two or three hundred feet breadth
of water, and the sandy bed and banks were frequently covered with
large round pebbles. We had traveled this day twenty-seven miles. The
main chain of the Black hills was here only about seven miles to the
south, on the right bank of the river, rising abruptly to the height of
eight and twelve hundred feet. Patches of green grass in the ravines on
the steep sides marked the presence of springs, and the summits were
clad with pines.

28th.--In two miles from our encampment, we reached the place where the
regular road crosses the Platte. There was two hundred feet breadth of
water at this time in the bed, which has a variable width of eight to
fifteen hundred feet. The channels were generally three feet deep, and
there were large angular rocks on the bottom, which made the ford in
some places a little difficult. Even at its low stages, this river
cannot be crossed at random, and this has always been used as the best
ford. The low stage of the water the present year had made it fordable
in almost any part of its course, where access could be had to its bed.

For the satisfaction of travelers, I will endeavor to give some
description of the nature of the road from Laramie to this point. The
nature of the soil may be inferred from its geological formation. The
limestone at the eastern limit of this section is succeeded by
limestone without fossils, a great variety of sandstone, consisting
principally of red sandstone and fine conglomerates. The red sandstone
is argillaceous, with compact white gypsum or alabaster, very
beautiful. The other sandstones are gray, yellow, and ferruginous,
sometimes very coarse. The apparent sterility of the country must
therefore be sought for in other causes than the nature of the soil.
The face of the country cannot with propriety be called hilly. It is a
succession of long ridges, made by the numerous streams which come down
from the neighboring mountain range. The ridges have an undulating
surface, with some such appearance as the ocean presents in an ordinary
breeze.

The road which is now generally followed through this region is
therefore a very good one, without any difficult ascents to overcome.
The principal obstructions are near the river, where the transient
waters of heavy rains have made deep ravines with steep banks, which
renders frequent circuits necessary. It will be remembered that wagons
pass this road only once or twice a year, which is by no means
sufficient to break down the stubborn roots of the innumerable
artemisia bushes. A partial absence of these is often the only
indication of the track; and the roughness produced by their roots in
many places gives the road the character of one newly opened in a
wooded country. This is usually considered the worst part of the road
east of the mountains; and, as it passes through an open prairie
region, may be much improved, so as to avoid the greater part of the
inequalities it now presents.

From the mouth of the Kansas to the Green River valley west of the
mountains, there is no such thing as a mountain road on the line of
communication.

We continued our way, and four miles beyond the ford Indians were
discovered again; and I halted while a party were sent forward to
ascertain who they were. In a short time they returned, accompanied by
a number of Indians of the Oglallah band of Sioux. From them we
received some interesting information. They had formed part of the
great village, which they informed us had broken up, and was on its way
home. The greater part of the village, including the Arapahoes,
Cheyennes, and Oglallahs, had crossed the Platte eight or ten miles
below the mouth of the Sweet Water, and were now behind the mountains
to the south of us, intending to regain the Platte by way of Deer
creek. They had taken this unusual route in search of grass and game.
They gave us a very discouraging picture of the country. The great
drought, and the plague of grasshoppers, had swept it so that scarce a
blade of grass was to be seen, and there was not a buffalo to be found
in the whole region. Their people, they further said, had been nearly
starved to death, and we would find their road marked by lodges, which
they had thrown away in order to move more rapidly, and by the
carcasses of the horses which they had eaten, or which had perished by
starvation. Such was the prospect before us.

When he had finished the interpretation of these things, Mr. Bissonette
immediately rode up to me, and urgently advised that I should entirely
abandon the further prosecution of my exploration. "_Le meilleure avis
que je pourrais vous donner c'est de virer de suite_." "The best advice
I can give you, is to turn back at once." It was his own intention to
return, as we had now reached the point to which he had engaged to
attend me. In reply, I called up my men, and communicated to them fully
the information I had just received. I then expressed to them my fixed
determination to proceed to the end of the enterprise on which I had
been sent; but as the situation of the country gave me some reason to
apprehend that it might be attended with an unfortunate result to some
of us, I would leave it optional with them to continue with me or to
return.

Among them were some five or six who I knew would remain. We had still
ten days' provisions; and should no game be found, when this stock was
expended, we had our horses and mules, which we could eat when other
means of subsistence failed. But not a man flinched from the
undertaking. "We'll eat the mules," said Basil Lajeunesse; and
thereupon we shook hands with our interpreter and his Indians, and
parted. With them I sent back one of my men, Dumes, whom the effects of
an old wound in the leg rendered incapable of continuing the journey on
foot, and his horse seemed on the point of giving out. Having resolved
to disencumber ourselves immediately of every thing not absolutely
necessary to our future operations, I turned directly in towards the
river, and encamped on the left bank, a little above the place where
our council had been held, and where a thick grove of willows offered a
suitable spot for the object I had in view.

The carts having been discharged, the covers and wheels were taken off,
and, with the frames, carried into some low places, among the willows,
and concealed in the dense foliage in such a manner that the glitter of
the iron-work might not attract the observation of some straggling
Indian. In the sand, which had been blown up into waves among the
willows, a large hole was then dug, ten feet square and six feet deep.
In the mean time, all our effects had been spread out upon the ground,
and whatever was designed to be carried along with us separated and
laid aside, and the remaining part carried to the hole and carefully
covered up. As much as possible, all traces of our proceedings were
obliterated, and it wanted but a rain to render our _cache_ safe beyond
discovery. All the men were now set at work to arrange the pack-saddles
and make up the packs.

The day was very warm and calm, and the sky entirely clear, except
where, as usual along the summits of the mountainous ridge opposite,
the clouds had congregated in masses. Our lodge had been planted, and,
on account of the heat, the ground-pins had been taken out, and the
lower part slightly raised. Near to it was standing the barometer,
which swung in a tripod frame; and within the lodge, where a small fire
had been built, Mr. Preuss was occupied in observing temperature of
boiling water. At this instant, and without any warning until it was
within fifty yards, a violent gust of wind dashed down the lodge,
burying under it Mr. Preuss and about a dozen men, who had attempted to
keep it from being carried away. I succeeded in saving the barometer,
which the lodge was carrying off with itself, but the thermometer was
broken. We had no others of a high graduation, none of those which
remained going higher than 135° Fahrenheit. Our astronomical
observations gave to this place, which we named _Cache_ camp, a
longitude of 106° 38' 26", latitude 42° 50' 53".

29th.--All our arrangements having been completed, we left the
encampment at 7 o'clock this morning. In this vicinity the ordinary
road leaves the Platte, and crosses over to the Sweet Water river,
which it strikes near Rock Independence. Instead of following this
road, I had determined to keep the immediate valley of the Platte so
far as the mouth of the Sweet Water, in the expectation of finding
better grass. To this I was further prompted by the nature of my
instructions. To Mr. Carson was assigned the office of guide, as we had
now reached a part of the country with which, or a great part of which,
long residence had made him familiar. In a few miles we reached the Red
Buttes, a famous landmark in this country, whose geological composition
is red sandstone, limestone, and calcareous sandstone and pudding-stone.

The river here cuts its way through a ridge; on the eastern side of it
are the lofty escarpments of red argillaceous sandstone, which are
called the Red Buttes. In this passage the stream is not much
compressed or pent up, there being a bank of considerable though
variable breadth on either side. Immediately on entering, we discovered
a band of buffalo. The hunters failed to kill any of them; the leading
hunter being thrown into a ravine, which occasioned some delay, and in
the mean time the herd clambered up the steep face of the ridge. It is
sometimes wonderful to see these apparently clumsy animals make their
way up and down the most broken precipices. We halted to noon before we
had cleared this passage, at a spot twelve miles distant from _Cache_
camp, where we found an abundance of grass. So far, the account of the
Indians was found to be false. On the banks were willow and cherry
trees. The cherries were not yet ripe, but in the thickets were
numerous fresh tracks of the grizzly bear, which are very fond of this
fruit. The soil here is red, the composition being derived from the red
sandstone. About seven miles brought us through the ridge, in which the
course of the river is north and south. Here the valley opens out
broadly, and high walls of the red formation present themselves among
the hills to the east. We crossed here a pretty little creek, an
affluent of the right bank. It is well timbered with cottonwood in this
vicinity, and the absinthe has lost its shrub-like character, and
becomes small trees six and eight feet in height, and sometimes eight
inches in diameter. Two or three miles above this creek we made our
encampment, having traveled to-day twenty-five miles. Our animals fared
well here, as there is an abundance of grass. The river bed is made up
of pebbles, and in the bank, at the level of the water, is a
conglomerate of coarse pebbles, about the size of ostrich eggs, and
which I remarked in the banks of the Laramie fork. It is overlaid by a
soil of mixed clay and sand, six feet thick. By astronomical
observations, our position is in longitude 106° 54' 32", and latitude
42° 38'.

30th.--After traveling about twelve miles this morning, we reached a
place where the Indian village had crossed the river. Here were the
poles of discarded lodges and skeletons of horses lying about. Mr.
Carson, who had never been higher up than this point on the river,
which has the character of being exceedingly rugged, and walled in by
precipices above, thought it advisable to encamp near this place, where
we were certain of obtaining grass, and to-morrow make our crossing
among the rugged hills to the Sweet Water river. Accordingly we turned
back and descended the river to an island near by, which was about
twenty acres in size, covered with a luxuriant growth of grass. The
formation here I found highly interesting. Immediately at this island
the river is again shut up in the rugged hills, which come down to it
from the main ridge in a succession of spurs three or four hundred feet
high, and alternated with green level _prairillons_ or meadows,
bordered on the river banks with thickets of willow, and having many
plants to interest the traveler. The island lies between two of these
ridges, three or four hundred yards apart, of which that on the right
bank is composed entirely of red argillaceous sandstone, with thin
layers of fibrous gypsum. On the left bank, the ridge is composed
entirely of silicious pudding-stone, the pebbles in the numerous strata
increasing in size from the top to the bottom, where they are as large
as a man's head. So far as I was able to determine, these strata
incline to the northeast, with a dip of about 15°. This pudding-stone,
or conglomerate formation, I was enabled to trace through an extended
range of country, from a few miles east of the meridian of Fort Laramie
to where I found it superposed on the granite of the Rocky mountains,
in longitude 109° 00'. From its appearance, the main chain of the
Laramie mountain is composed of this rock; and in a number of places I
found isolated hills, which served to mark a former level which had
been probably swept away.

These conglomerates are very friable, and easily decomposed; and I am
inclined to think this formation is the source from which was derived
the great deposite of sand and gravel which forms the surface rock of
the prairie country west of the Mississippi.

Crossing the ridge of red sandstone, and traversing the little prairie
which lies to the southward of it, we made in the afternoon an
excursion to a place which we called the Hot Spring Gate. This place
has much the appearance of a gate, by which the Platte passes through a
ridge composed of a white and calcareous sandstone. The length of the
passage is about four hundred yards, with a smooth green prairie on
either side. Through this place, the stream flows with a quiet current,
unbroken by any rapid, and is about seventy yards wide between the
walls, which rise perpendicularly from the water. To that on the right
bank, which is the lower, the barometer gave a height of three hundred
and sixty feet. This place will be more particularly described
hereafter, as we passed through it on our return.

We saw here numerous herds of mountain sheep, and frequently heard the
volley of rattling stones which accompanied their rapid descent down
the steep hills. This was the first place at which we had killed any of
these animals; and, in consequence of this circumstance, and of the
abundance of these sheep or goats, (for they are called by each name,)
we gave our encampment the name of Goat Island. Their flesh is much
esteemed by the hunters, and has very much the flavor of Alleghany
mountain sheep. I have frequently seen the horns of this animal three
feet long and seventeen inches in circumference at the base, weighing
eleven pounds. But two or three of these were killed by our party at
this place, and of these the horns were small. The use of these horns
seems to be to protect the animal's head in pitching down precipices to
avoid pursuing wolves--their only safety being in places where they
cannot be followed. The bones are very strong and solid, the marrow
occupying but a very small portion of the bone in the leg, about the
thickness of a rye straw. The hair is short, resembling the winter
color of our common deer, which it nearly approaches in size and
appearance. Except in the horns, it has no resemblance whatever to the
goat. The longitude of this place, resulting from chronometer and lunar
distances, and an occultation of Arietis, is 107° 13' 29", and the
latitude 42° 33' 27". One of our horses, which had given out, we left
to receive strength on the island, intending to take her, perhaps, on
our return.

31st.--This morning we left the course of the Platte, to cross over to
the Sweet Water. Our way, for a few miles, lay up the sandy bed of a
dry creek, in which I found several interesting plants. Leaving this,
we wended our way to the summit of the hills, of which the peaks are
here eight hundred feet above the Platte, bare and rocky. A long and
gradual slope led from these hills to the Sweet Water, which we reached
in fifteen miles from Goat Island. I made an early encampment here, in
order to give the hunters an opportunity to procure a supply from
several bands of buffalo, which made their appearance in the valley
near by. The stream is about sixty feet wide, and at this time twelve
to eighteen inches deep, with a very moderate current.

The adjoining prairies are sandy, but the immediate river bottom is a
good soil, which afforded an abundance of soft green grass to our
horses, and where I found a variety of interesting plants, which made
their appearance for the first time. A rain to-night made it
unpleasantly cold; and there was no tree here, to enable us to pitch
our single tent, the poles of which had been left at our _Cache camp_.
We had, therefore, no shelter except what was to be found under cover
of the _absinthe_ bushes, which grew in many thick patches, one or two
and sometimes three feet high.



AUGUST.


1st.--The hunters went ahead this morning, as buffalo appeared
tolerably abundant, and I was desirous to secure a small stock of
provisions; and we moved about seven mules up the valley, and encamped
one mile below Rock Independence. This is an isolated granite rock,
about six hundred and fifty yards long, and forty in height. Except in
a depression of the summit, where a little soil supports a scanty
growth of shrubs, with a solitary dwarf pine, it is entirely bare.
Everywhere within six or eight feet of the ground, where the surface is
sufficiently smooth, and in some places sixty or eighty feet above, the
rock is inscribed with the names of travelers. Many a name famous in
the history of this country, and some well known to science, are to be
found mixed among those of the traders and travelers for pleasure and
curiosity, and of missionaries among the savages. Some of these have
been washed away by the rain, but the greater number are still very
legible. The position of this rock is in longitude 107° 56', latitude
42° 29' 36". We remained at our camp of August 1st until noon of the
next day, occupied in drying meat. By observation, the longitude of the
place is 107° 25' 23", latitude 42° 29' 56".

2d.--Five miles above Rock Independence we came to a place called the
Devil's Gate, where the Sweet Water cuts through the point of a granite
ridge. The length of the passage is about three hundred yards, and the
width thirty-five yards. The walls of rock are vertical, and about four
hundred feet in height; and the stream in the gate is almost entirely
choked up by masses which have fallen from above. In the wall, on the
right bank, is a dike of trap-rock, cutting through a fine-grained gray
granite. Near the point of this ridge crop out some strata of the
valley formation, consisting of a grayish micaceous sandstone, and
fine-grained conglomerate, and marl. We encamped eight miles above the
Devil's Gate. There was no timber of any kind on the river, but good
fires were made of drift wood, aided by the _bois de vache_.

We had to-night no shelter from the rain, which commenced with squalls
of wind about sunset. The country here is exceedingly picturesque. On
either side of the valley, which is five miles broad, the mountains
rise to the height of twelve and fifteen hundred or two thousand feet.
On the south side, the range appears to be timbered, and to-night is
luminous with fires--probably the work of the Indians, who have just
passed through the valley. On the north, broken and granite masses rise
abruptly from the green sward of the river, terminating in a line of
broken summits. Except in the crevices of the rock, and here and there
on a ledge or bench of the mountain, where a few hardy pines have
clustered together, these are perfectly bare and destitute of
vegetation.

Among these masses, where there are sometimes isolated hills and
ridges, green valleys open in upon the river, which sweeps the base of
these mountains for thirty-six miles. Everywhere its deep verdure and
profusion of beautiful flowers is in pleasing contrast with the sterile
grandeur of the rock and the barrenness of the sandy plain, which, from
the right bank of the river, sweeps up to the mountain range that forms
its southern boundary. The great evaporation on the sandy soil of this
elevated plain, and the saline efflorescences which whiten the ground,
and shine like lakes reflecting in the sun, make a soil wholly unfit
for cultivation.

3d.--We were early on the road the next morning, traveling along the
upper part of the valley, which is overgrown with _artemisia_.
Scattered about on the plain are occasional small isolated hills. One
of these which I have examined, about fifty feet high, consisted of
white clay and marl, in nearly horizontal strata. Several bands of
buffalo made their appearance to-day, with herds of antelope; and a
grizzly bear--the only one we encountered during the journey--was seen
scrambling up among the rocks. As we passed over a slight rise near the
river, we caught the first view of the Wind River mountains, appearing,
at this distance of about seventy miles, to be a low and dark
mountainous ridge. The view dissipated in a moment the pictures which
had been created in our minds, by many descriptions of travelers, who
have compared these mountains to the Alps in Switzerland, and speak of
the glittering peaks which rise in icy majesty amidst the eternal
glaciers nine or ten thousand feet into the region of eternal snows.
The nakedness of the river was relieved by groves of willows, where we
encamped at night, after a march of twenty-six miles; and numerous
bright-colored flowers had made the river bottom look gay as a garden.
We found here a horse, which had been abandoned by the Indians, because
his hoofs had been so much worn that he was unable to travel; and
during the night a dog came into the camp.

4th.--Our camp was at the foot of the granite mountains, which we
climbed this morning to take some barometrical heights; and here among
the rocks was seen the first magpie. On our return, we saw one at the
mouth of the Platte river. We left here one of our horses, which was
unable to proceed farther. A few miles from the encampment we left the
river, which makes a bend to the south, and traversing an undulating
country, consisting of a grayish micaceous sandstone and fine-grained
conglomerates, struck it again, and encamped after a journey of
twenty-five miles. Astronomical observations placed us in latitude 42°
32' 30", and longitude 108° 30' 13".

5th.--The morning was dark, with a driving rain, and disagreeably cold.
We continued our route as usual  and the weather became so bad, that we
were glad to avail ourselves of the shelter offered by a small island,
about ten miles above our last encampment, which was covered with a
dense growth of willows. There was fine grass for our animals, and the
timber afforded us comfortable protection and good fires. In the
afternoon, the sun broke through the clouds for a short time, and the
barometer at 5 P.M. was 23.713, the thermometer 60°, with the wind
strong from the northwest. We availed ourselves of the fine weather to
make excursions in the neighborhood. The river, at this place, is
bordered by hills of the valley formation. They are of moderate height;
one of the highest peaks on the right bank being, according to the
barometer, one hundred and eighty feet above the river. On the left
bank they are higher. They consist of a fine white clayey sandstone, a
white calcareous sandstone, and coarse sandstone or pudding-stone.

6th.--It continued steadily raining all day; but, notwithstanding, we
left our encampment in the afternoon. Our animals had been much
refreshed by their repose, and an abundance of rich, soft grass, which
had been much improved by the rains. In about three miles, we reached
the entrance of a _kanyon_, where the Sweet Water issues upon the more
open valley we had passed over. Immediately at the entrance, and
superimposed directly upon the granite, are strata of compact
calcareous sandstone and chert, alternating with fine white and
reddish-white, and fine gray and red sandstones. These strata dip to
the eastward at an angle of about 18°, and form the western limit of
the sandstone and limestone formations on the line of our route. Here
we entered among the primitive rocks. The usual road passes to the
right of this place; but we wound, or rather scrambled, our way up the
narrow valley for several hours. Wildness and disorder were the
character of this scenery. The river had been swollen by the late
rains, and came rushing through with an impetuous current, three or
four feet deep, and generally twenty yards broad. The valley was
sometimes the breadth of the stream, and sometimes opened into little
green meadows, sixty yards wide, with open groves of aspen. The stream
was bordered throughout with aspen, beech, and willow; and tall pines
grow on the sides and summits of the crags. On both sides the granite
rocks rose precipitously to the height of three hundred and five
hundred feet, terminating in jagged and broken pointed peaks; and
fragments of fallen rock lay piled up at the foot of the precipices.
Gneiss, mica slate, and a white granite, were among the varieties I
noticed. Here were many old traces of beaver on the stream; remnants of
dams, near which were lying trees, which they had cut down, one and two
feet in diameter. The hills entirely shut up the river at the end of
about five miles, and we turned up a ravine that led to a high prairie,
which seemed to be the general level of the country. Hence, to the
summit of the ridge, there is a regular and very gradual rise. Blocks
of granite were piled up at the heads of the ravines, and small bare
knolls of mica slate and milky quartz protruded at frequent intervals
on the prairie, which was whitened in occasional spots with small salt
lakes, where the water had evaporated, and left the bed covered with a
shining incrustation of salt. The evening was very cold, a northwest
wind driving a fine rain in our faces; and at nightfall we descended to
a little stream, on which we encamped, about two miles from the Sweet
Water. Here had recently been a very large camp of the Snake and Crow
Indians; and some large poles lying about afforded the means of
pitching a tent, and making other places of shelter. Our fires to-night
were made principally of the dry branches of the artemisia, which
covered the slopes. It burns quickly, and with a clear oily flame, and
makes a hot fire. The hills here are composed of hard, compact mica
slate, with veins of quartz.

7th.--We left our encampment with the rising sun. As we rose from the
bed of the creek, the _snow_ line of the mountains stretched gradually
before us, the white peaks glittering in the sun. They had been hidden
in the dark weather of the last few days, and it had been _snowing_ on
them, while it _rained_ in the plains. We crossed a ridge, and again
struck the Sweet Water--here a beautiful, swift stream, with a more
open valley, timbered with beech and cottonwood. It now began to lose
itself in the many small forks which make its head; and we continued up
the main stream until near noon, when we left it a few miles, to make
our noon halt on a small creek among the hills, from which the stream
issues by a small opening. Within was a beautiful grassy spot, covered
with an open grove of large beech-trees, among which I found several
plants that I had not previously seen.

The afternoon was cloudy, with squalls of rain; but the weather became
fine at sunset, when we again encamped on the Sweet Water, within a few
miles of the SOUTH PASS. The country over which we have passed to-day
consists principally of the compact mica slate, which crops out on all
ridges, making the uplands very rocky and slaty. In the escarpments
which border the creeks, it is seen alternating with a light-colored
granite, at an inclination of 45°; the beds varying in thickness from
two or three feet to six or eight hundred. At a distance, the granite
frequently has the appearance of irregular lumps of clay, hardened by
exposure. A variety of _asters_ may how be numbered among the
characteristic plants, and the artemisia continues in full glory; but
_cacti_ have become rare, and mosses begin to dispute the hills with
them. The evening was damp and unpleasant--the thermometer, at ten
o'clock, being at 36°, and the grass wet with a heavy dew. Our
astronomical observations placed this encampment in longitude 109° 21'
32", and latitude 42° 27' 15".

Early in the morning we resumed our journey, the weather, still cloudy,
with occasional rain. Our general course was west, as I had determined
to cross the dividing ridge by a bridle-path among the country more
immediately at the foot of the mountains, and return by the wagon road,
two and a half miles to the south of the point where the trail crosses.

About six miles from our encampment brought us to the summit. The
ascent had been so gradual, that, with all the intimate knowledge
possessed by Carson, who had made the country his home for seventeen
years, we were obliged to watch very closely to find the place at which
we had reached the culminating point. This was between two low hills,
rising on either hand fifty or sixty feet. When I looked back at them,
from the foot of the immediate slope on the western plain, their
summits appeared to be about one hundred and twenty feet above. From
the impression on my mind at this time, and subsequently on our return,
I should compare the elevation which we surmounted immediately at the
Pass, to the ascent of the Capitol hill from the avenue, at Washington.
It is difficult for me to fix positively the breadth of this Pass. From
the broken ground where it commences, at the foot of the Wind River
chain, the view to the southeast is over a champaign country, broken,
at the distance of nineteen miles, by the Table rock; which, with the
other isolated hills in its vicinity, seem to stand on a comparative
plain. This I judged to be its termination, the ridge recovering its
rugged character with the Table rock. It will be seen that it in no
manner resembles the places to which the term is commonly
applied--nothing of the gorge-like character and winding ascents of the
Alleghany passes in America; nothing of the Great St. Bernard and
Simplon passes in Europe. Approaching it from the mouth of the Sweet
Water, a sandy plain, one hundred and twenty miles long, conducts, by a
gradual and regular ascent, to the summit, about seven thousand feet
above the sea; and the traveler, without being reminded of any change
by toilsome ascents, suddenly finds himself on the waters which flow to
the Pacific ocean. By the route we had traveled, the distance from Fort
Laramie is three hundred and twenty miles, or nine hundred and fifty
from the mouth of the Kansas.

Continuing our march, we reached, in eight miles from the Pass, the
Little Sandy, one of the tributaries of the Colorado, or Green river of
the Gulf of California. The weather had grown fine during the morning,
and we remained here the rest of the day, to dry our baggage and take
some astronomical observations. The stream was about forty feet wide,
and two or three deep, with clear water and a full swift current, over
a sandy bed. It was timbered with a growth of low bushy and dense
willows, among which were little verdant spots, which gave our animals
fine grass, and where I found a number of interesting plants. Among the
neighboring hills I noticed fragments of granite containing magnetic
iron. Longitude of the camp was 109° 37' 59", and latitude 42° 27' 34".

9th.--We made our noon halt on Big Sandy, another tributary of Green
river. The face of the country traversed was of a brown sand of granite
materials, the _detritus_ of the neighboring mountain. Strata of the
milky quartz cropped out, and blocks of granite were scattered about,
containing magnetic iron. On Sandy creek the formation was of
parti-colored sand, exhibited in escarpments fifty to eighty feet high.
In the afternoon we had a severe storm of hail, and encamped at sunset
on the first New Fork. Within the space of a few miles, the Wind
mountains supply a number of tributaries to Green river, which are
called the New Forks. Near our camp were two remarkable isolated hills,
one of them sufficiently large to merit the name of mountain. They are
called the Two Buttes, and will serve to identify the place of our
encampment, which the observations of the evening placed in longitude
109° 58' 11", and latitude 42° 42' 46". On the right bank of the
stream, opposite to the large hill, the strata which are displayed
consist of decomposing granite, which supplies the brown sand of which
the face of the country is composed to a considerable depth.

10th.--The air at sunrise is clear and pure, and the morning extremely
cold, but beautiful. A lofty snowy peak of the mountain is glittering
in the first rays of the sun, which have not yet reached us. The long
mountain wall to the east, rising two thousand feet abruptly from the
plain, behind which we see the peaks, is still dark, and cuts clear
against the glowing sky. A fog, just risen from the river, lies along
the base of the mountain. A little before sunrise, the thermometer was
at 35°, and at sunrise 33°. Water froze last night, and fires are very
comfortable. The scenery becomes hourly more interesting and grand, and
the view here is truly magnificent; but, indeed, it needs something to
repay the long prairie journey of a thousand miles. The sun has shot
above the wall, and makes a magical change. The whole valley is glowing
and bright, and all the mountain peaks are gleaming like silver. Though
these snow mountains are not the Alps, they have their own character of
grandeur and magnificence, and doubtless will find pens and pencils to
do them justice. In the scene before us, we feel how much wood improves
a view. The pines on the mountain seemed to give it much additional
beauty. I was agreeably disappointed in the character of the streams on
this side of the ridge. Instead of the creeks, which description had
led me to expect, I find bold, broad streams, with three or four feet
water, and a rapid current. The fork on which we are encamped is
upwards of a hundred feet wide, timbered with groves or thickets of the
low willow. We were now approaching the loftiest part of the Wind River
chain; and I left the valley a few miles from our encampment, intending
to penetrate the mountains as far as possible with the whole party. We
were soon involved in very broken ground, among long ridges covered
with fragments of granite. Winding our way up a long ravine, we came
unexpectedly in view of a most beautiful lake, set like a gem in the
mountains. The sheet of water lay transversely across the direction we
had been pursuing; and, descending the steep, rocky ridge, where it was
necessary to lead our horses, we followed its banks to the southern
extremity. Here a view of the utmost magnificence and grandeur burst
upon our eyes. With nothing between us and their feet to lessen the
effect of the whole height, a grand bed of snow-capped mountains rose
before us, pile upon pile, glowing in the bright light of an August
day. Immediately below them lay the lake, between two ridges, covered
with dark pines, which swept down from the main chain to the spot where
we stood. Here, where the lake glittered in the open sunlight, its
banks of yellow sand and the light foliage of aspen groves contrasted
well with the gloomy pines. "Never before," said Mr. Preuss, "in this
country or in Europe, have I seen such grand, magnificent rocks." I was
so much pleased with the beauty of the place, that I determined to make
the main camp here, where our animals would find good pasturage, and
explore the mountains with a small party of men. Proceeding a little
further, we came suddenly upon the outlet of the lake, where it found
its way through a narrow passage between low hills. Dark pines which
overhung the stream, and masses of rock, where the water foamed along,
gave it much romantic beauty. Where we crossed, which was immediately
at the outlet, it is two hundred and fifty feet wide, and so deep that
with difficulty we were able to ford it. Its bed was an accumulation of
rocks, boulders, and broad slabs, and large angular fragments, among
which the animals fell repeatedly.

The current was very swift, and the water cold, and of a crystal
purity. In crossing this stream, I met with a great misfortune in
having my barometer broken. It was the only one. A great part of the
interest of the journey for me was in the exploration of these
mountains, of which so much had been said that was doubtful and
contradictory; and now their snowy peaks rose majestically before me,
and the only means of giving them authentically to science, the object
of my anxious solicitude by night and day, was destroyed. We had
brought this barometer in safety a thousand miles, and broke it almost
among the snow of the mountains. The loss was felt by the whole
camp--all had seen my anxiety, and aided me in preserving it. The
height of these mountains, considered by many hunters and traders the
highest in the whole range, had been a theme of constant discussion
among them; and all had looked forward with pleasure to the moment when
the instrument, which they believed to be as true as the sun, should
stand upon the summits, and decide their disputes. Their grief was only
inferior to my own.

The lake is about three miles long, and of very irregular width, and
apparently great depth, and is the head-water of the third New Fork, a
tributary to Green river, the Colorado of the west. In the narrative I
have called it Mountain lake. I encamped on the north side, about three
hundred and fifty yards from the outlet. This was the most western
point at which I obtained astronomical observations, by which this
place, called Bernier's encampment, is made in 110° 08' 03" west
longitude from Greenwich, and latitude 43° 49' 49". The mountain peaks,
as laid down, were fixed by bearings from this and other astronomical
points. We had no other compass than the small ones used in sketching
the country; but from an azimuth, in which one of them was used, the
variation of the compass is 18° east. The correction made in our
field-work by the astronomical observations indicates that this is a
very correct observation.

As soon as the camp was formed, I set about endeavoring to repair my
barometer. As I have already said, this was a standard cistern
barometer, of Troughton's construction. The glass cistern had been
broken about midway; but as the instrument had been kept in a proper
position, no air had found its way into the tube, the end of which had
always remained covered. I had with me a number of vials of tolerably
thick glass, some of which were of the same diameter as the cistern,
end I spent the day in slowly working on these, endeavoring to cut them
of the requisite length; but, as my instrument was a very rough file, I
invariably broke them. A groove was cut in one of the trees, where the
barometer was placed during the night, to be out of the way of any
possible danger, and in the morning I commenced again. Among the
powder-horns in the camp, I found one which was very transparent, so
that its contents could be almost as plainly seen as through glass.
This I boiled and stretched on a piece of wood to the requisite
diameter, and scraped it very thin, in order to increase to the utmost
its transparency. I then secured it firmly in its place on the
instrument, with strong glue made from a buffalo, and filled it with
mercury, properly heated. A piece of skin, which had covered one of the
vials, furnished a good pocket, which was well secured with strong
thread and glue, and then the brass cover was screwed to its place. The
instrument was left some time to dry; and when I reversed it, a few
hours after, I had the satisfaction to find it in perfect order; its
indications being about the same as on the other side of the lake
before it had been broken. Our success in this little incident diffused
pleasure throughout the camp; and we immediately set about our
preparations for ascending the mountains.

As will be seen on reference to a map, on this short mountain chain are
the head-waters of four great rivers on the continent, namely: the
Colorado, Columbia, Missouri, and Platte rivers. It had been my design,
after ascending the mountains, to continue our route on the western
side of the range, and crossing through a pass at the northwestern end
of the chain, about thirty miles from our present camp, return along
the eastern slope, across the heads of the Yellowstone river, and join
on the line to our station of August 7, immediately at the foot of the
ridge. In this way, I should be enabled to include the whole chain, and
its numerous waters, in my survey; but various considerations induced
me, very reluctantly, to abandon this plan.

I was desirous to keep strictly within the scope of my instructions,
and it would have required ten or fifteen additional days for the
accomplishment of this object; our animals had become very much worn
out with the length of the journey; game was very scarce; and, though
it does not appear in the course of the narrative, (as I have avoided
dwelling upon trifling incidents not connected with the objects of the
expedition,) the spirits of the men had been much exhausted by the
hardships and privations to which they had been subjected. Our
provisions had wellnigh all disappeared. Bread had been long out of the
question; and of all our stock, we had remaining two or three pounds of
coffee, and a small quantity of macaroni, which had been husbanded with
great care for the mountain expedition we were about to undertake. Our
daily meal consisted of dry buffalo meat, cooked in tallow; and, as we
had not dried this with Indian skill, part of it was spoiled; and what
remained of good, was as hard as wood, having much the taste and
appearance of so many pieces of bark. Even of this, our stock was
rapidly diminishing in a camp which was capable of consuming two
buffaloes in every twenty-four hours. These animals had entirely
disappeared; and it was not probable that we should fall in with them
again until we returned to the Sweet Water.

Our arrangements for the ascent were rapidly completed. We were in a
hostile country, which rendered the greatest vigilance and
circumspection necessary. The pass at the north end of the mountain was
greatly infested by Blackfeet, and immediately opposite was one of
their forts, on the edge of a little thicket, two or three hundred feet
from our encampment. We were posted in a grove of beech, on the margin
of the lake, and a few hundred feet long, with a narrow _prairillon_ on
the inner side, bordered by the rocky ridge. In the upper end of this
grove we cleared a circular space about forty feet in diameter, and,
with the felled timber, and interwoven branches, surrounded it with a
breastwork five feet in height. A gap was left for a gate on the inner
side, by which the animals were to be driven in and secured, while the
men slept around the little work. It was half hidden by the foliage,
and garrisoned by twelve resolute men, would have set at defiance any
band of savages which might chance to discover them in the interval of
our absence. Fifteen of the best mules, with fourteen men, were
selected for the mountain party. Our provisions consisted of dried meat
for two days, with our little stock of coffee and some macaroni. In
addition to the barometer and thermometer, I took with me a sextant and
spyglass, and we had of course our compasses. In charge of the camp I
left Bernier, one of my most trustworthy men, who possessed the most
determined courage.

12th.--Early in the morning we left the camp, fifteen in number, well
armed, of course, and mounted on our best mules. A pack-animal carried
our provisions, with a coffeepot and kettle, and three or four tin
cups. Every man had a blanket strapped over his saddle, to serve for
his bed, and the instruments were carried by turns on their backs. We
entered directly on rough and rocky ground; and, just after crossing
the ridge, had the good fortune to shoot an antelope. We heard the
roar, and had a glimpse of a waterfall as we rode along, and, crossing
in our way two fine streams, tributary to the Colorado, in about two
hours' ride we reached the top of the first row or range of the
mountains. Here, again, a view of the most romantic beauty met our
eyes. It seemed as if, from the vast expanse of uninteresting prairie
we had passed over, Nature had collected all her beauties together in
one chosen place. We were overlooking a deep valley, which was entirely
occupied by three lakes, and from the brink to the surrounding ridges
rose precipitously five hundred and a thousand feet, covered with the
dark green of the balsam pine, relieved on the border of the lake with
the light foliage of the aspen. They all communicated with each other,
and the green of the waters, common to mountain lakes of great depth,
showed that it would be impossible to cross them. The surprise
manifested by our guides when these impassable obstacles suddenly
barred our progress, proved that they were among the hidden treasures
of the place, unknown even to the wandering trappers of the region.
Descending the hill, we proceeded to make our way along the margin to
the southern extremity. A narrow strip of angular fragments of rock
sometimes afforded a rough pathway for our mules, but generally we rode
along the shelving side, occasionally scrambling up, at a considerable
risk of tumbling back into the lake.

The slope was frequently 60°; the pines grew densely together and the
ground was covered with the branches and trunks of trees. The air was
fragrant with the odor of the pines; and I realized this delightful
morning the pleasure of breathing that mountain air which makes a
constant theme of the hunter's praise, and which now made us feel as if
we had all been drinking some exhilarating gas. The depths of this
unexplored forest were a place to delight the heart of a botanist.
There was a rich undergrowth of plants, and numerous gay-colored
flowers in brilliant bloom. We reached the outlet at length, where some
freshly-barked willows that lay in the water showed that beaver had
been recently at work.

There were some small brown squirrels jumping about in the pines, and a
couple of large mallard ducks swimming about in the stream.

The hills on this southern end were low, and the lake looked like a
mimic sea, as the waves broke on the sandy beach in the force of a
strong breeze. There was a pretty open spot, with fine grass for our
mules; and we made our noon halt on the beach, under the shade of some
large hemlocks. We resumed our journey after a halt of about an hour,
making our way up the ridge on the western side of the lake. In search
of smoother ground, we rode a little inland; and, passing through
groves of aspen, soon found ourselves again among the pines. Emerging
from these, we struck the summit of the ridge above the upper end of
the lake.

We had reached a very elevated point, and in the valley below, and
among the hills, were a number of lakes of different levels; some two
or three hundred feet above others, with which they communicated by
foaming torrents. Even to our great height the roar of the cataracts
came up, and we could see them leaping down in lines of snowy foam.
From this scene of busy waters, we turned abruptly into the stillness
of a forest, where we rode among the open bolls of the pines, over a
lawn of verdant grass, having strikingly the air of cultivated grounds.
This led us, after a time, among masses of rock which had no vegetable
earth but in hollows and crevices though still the pine forest
continued. Towards evening we reached a defile, or rather a hole in the
mountains, entirely shut in by dark pine-covered rocks.

A small stream, with scarcely perceptible current, flowed through a
level bottom of perhaps eighty yards width, where the grass was
saturated with water. Into this the mules were turned, and were neither
hobbled nor picketed during the night, as the fine pasturage took away
all temptation to stray; and we made our bivouac in the pines. The
surrounding masses were all of granite. While supper was being
prepared, I set out on an excursion in the neighborhood, accompanied by
one of my men. We wandered about among the crags and ravines until
dark, richly repaid for our walk by a fine collection of plants, many
of them in full bloom. Ascending a peak to find the place of our camp,
we saw that the little defile in which we lay communicated with the
long green valley of some stream, which, here locked up in the
mountains, far away to the south, found its way in a dense forest to
the plains.

Looking along its upward course, it seemed to conduct, by a smooth
gradual slope, directly towards the peak, which, from long consultation
as we approached the mountain, we had decided to be the highest of the
range. Pleased with the discovery of so fine a road for the next day,
we hastened down to the camp, where we arrived just in time for supper.
Our table-service was rather scant; and we held the meat in our hands,
and clean rocks made good plates, on which we spread our macaroni.
Among all the strange places on which we had occasion to encamp during
our long journey, none have left so vivid an impression on my mind as
the camp of this evening. The disorder of the masses which surrounded
us--the little hole through which we saw the stars over head--the dark
pines where we slept--and the rocks lit up with the glow of our fires,
made a night-picture of very wild beauty.

13th.--The morning was bright and pleasant, just cool enough to make
exercise agreeable, and we soon entered the defile I had seen the
preceding day. It was smoothly carpeted with soft grass, and scattered
over with groups of flowers, of which yellow was the predominant color.
Sometimes we were forced, by an occasional difficult pass, to pick our
way on a narrow ledge along the side of the defile, and the mules were
frequently on their knees; but these obstructions were rare, and we
journeyed on in the sweet morning air, delighted at our good fortune in
having found such a beautiful entrance to the mountains. This road
continued for about three miles, when we suddenly reached its
termination in one of the grand views which, at every turn, meet the
traveler in this magnificent region. Here the defile up which we had
traveled opened out into a small lawn, where, in a little lake, the
stream had its source.

There were some fine _asters_ in bloom, but all the flowering plants
appeared to seek the shelter of the rocks, and to be of lower growth
than below, as if they loved the warmth of the soil, and kept out of
the way of the winds. Immediately at our feet, a precipitous descent
led to a confusion of defiles, and before us rose the mountains, as we
have represented them in the annexed view. It is not by the splendor of
far-off views, which have lent such a glory to the Alps, that these
impress the mind; but by a gigantic disorder of enormous masses, and a
savage sublimity of naked rock, in wonderful contrast with innumerable
green spots of a rich floral beauty, shut up in their stern recesses.
Their wildness seems well suited to the character of the people who
inhabit the country.

I determined to leave our animals here, and make the rest of our way on
foot. The peak appeared so near, that there was no doubt of our
returning before night; and a few men were left in charge of the mules,
with our provisions and blankets. We took with us nothing but our arms
and instruments, and, as the day had become warm, the greater part left
our coats. Having made an early dinner, we started again. We were soon
involved in the most ragged precipices, nearing the central chain very
slowly, and rising but little. The first ridge hid a succession of
others; and when, with great fatigue and difficulty, we had climbed up
five hundred feet, it was but to make an equal descent on the other
side; all these intervening places were filled with small deep lakes,
which met the eye in every direction, descending from one level to
another, sometimes under bridges formed by huge fragments of granite,
beneath which was heard the roar of the water. These constantly
obstructed our path, forcing us to make long _détours_; frequently
obliged to retrace our steps, and frequently falling among the rocks.
Maxwell was precipitated towards the face of a precipice, and saved
himself from going over by throwing himself flat on the ground. We
clambered on, always expecting, with every ridge that we crossed, to
reach the foot of the peaks, and always disappointed, until about four
o'clock, when, pretty well worn out, we reached the shore of a little
lake, in which was a rocky island. We remained here a short time to
rest, and continued on around the lake, which had in some places a
beach of white sand, and in others was bound with rocks, over which the
way was difficult and dangerous, as the water from innumerable springs
made them very slippery.

By the time we had reached the further side of the lake, we found
ourselves all exceedingly fatigued, and, much to the satisfaction of
the whole party, we encamped. The spot we had chosen was a broad flat
rock, in some measure protected from the winds by the surrounding
crags, and the trunks of fallen pines afforded us bright fires. Near by
was a foaming torrent, which tumbled into the little lake about one
hundred and fifty feet below us, and which, by way of distinction, we
have called Island lake. We had reached the upper limit of the piney
region; as, above this point, no tree was to be seen, and patches of
snow lay everywhere around us, on the cold sides of the rocks. The
flora of the region we had traversed since leaving our mules was
extremely rich, and, among the characteristic plants, the scarlet
flowers of the _dodecatheon dentatum_ everywhere met the eye, in great
abundance. A small green ravine, on the edge of which we were encamped,
was filled with a profusion of alpine plants, in brilliant bloom. From
barometrical observations, made during our three days' sojourn at this
place, its elevation above the Gulf of Mexico is 10,000 feet. During
the day, we had seen no sign of animal life; but among the rocks here,
we heard what was supposed to be the bleat of a young goat, which we
searched for with hungry activity, and found to proceed from a small
animal of a gray color, with short ears and no tail--probably the
Siberian squirrel. We saw a considerable number of them, and, with the
exception of a small bird like a sparrow, it is the only inhabitant of
this elevated part of the mountains. On our return, we saw, below this
lake, large flocks of the mountain-goat. We had nothing to eat
to-night. Lajeunesse, with several others, took their guns, and sallied
out in search of a goat; but returned unsuccessful. At sunset, the
barometer stood at 20.522; the attached thermometer 50°. Here we had
the misfortune to break our thermometer, having now only that attached
to the barometer. I was taken ill shortly after we had encamped, and
continued so until late in the night, with violent headache and
vomiting. This was probably caused by the excessive fatigue I had
undergone, and want of food, and perhaps, also, in some measure, by the
rarity of the air. The night was cold, as a violent gale from the north
had sprung up at sunset, which entirely blew away the heat of the
fires. The cold, and our granite beds, had not been favorable to sleep,
and we were glad to see the face of the sun in the morning. Not being
delayed by any preparation for breakfast, we set out immediately.

On every side, as we advanced, was heard the roar of waters, and of a
torrent, which we followed up a short distance, until it expanded into
a lake about one mile in length. On the northern side of the lake was a
bank of ice, or rather of snow covered with a crust of ice. Carson had
been our guide into the mountains, and, agreeably to his advice, we
left this little valley, and took to the ridges again, which we found
extremely broken, and where we were again involved among precipices.
Here were ice-fields; among which we were all dispersed, seeking each
the best path to ascend the peak. Mr. Preuss attempted to walk along
the upper edge of one of these fields, which sloped away at an angle of
about twenty degrees; but his feet slipped from under him, and he went
plunging down the plain. A few hundred feet below, at the bottom, were
some fragments of sharp rock, on which he landed; and, though he turned
a couple of somersets, fortunately received no injury beyond a few
bruises. Two of the men, Clement Lambert and Descoteaux, had been taken
ill, and lay down on the rocks, a short distance below; and at this
point I was attacked with headache and giddiness, accompanied by
vomiting, as on the day before. Finding myself unable to proceed, I
sent the barometer over to Mr. Preuss, who was in a gap two or three
hundred yards distant, desiring him to reach the peak if possible, and
take an observation there. He found himself unable to proceed further
in that direction, and took an observation, where the barometer stood
at 19.401; attached thermometer 50°, in the gap. Carson, who had gone
over to him, succeeded in reaching one of the snowy summits of the main
ridge, whence he saw the peak towards which all our efforts had been
directed, towering eight or ten hundred feet into the air above him. In
the mean time, finding myself grow rather worse than better, and
doubtful how far my strength would carry me, I sent Basil Lajeunesse,
with four men, back to the place where the mules had been left.

We were now better acquainted with the topography of the country, and I
directed him to bring back with him, if it were in any way possible,
four or five mules, with provisions and blankets. With me were Maxwell
and Ayer; and after we had remained nearly an hour on the rock, it
became so unpleasantly cold, though the day was bright, that we set out
on our return to the camp, at which we all arrived safely, straggling
in one after the other. I continued ill during the afternoon, but
became better towards sundown, when my recovery was completed by the
appearance of Basil and four men, all mounted. The men who had gone
with him had been too much fatigued to return, and were relieved by
those in charge of the horses; but in his powers of endurance Basil
resembled more a mountain-goat than a man. They brought blankets and
provisions, and we enjoyed well our dried meat and a cup of good
coffee. We rolled ourselves up in our blankets, and, with our feet
turned to a blazing fire, slept soundly until morning.

15th.--It had been supposed that we had finished with the mountains;
and the evening before it had been arranged that Carson should set out
at daylight, and return to breakfast at the Camp of the Mules, taking
with him all but four or five men, who were to stay with me and bring
back the mules and instruments. Accordingly, at the break of day they
set out. With Mr. Preuss and myself remained Basil Lajeunesse, Clement
Lambert, Janisse, and Descoteaux. When we had secured strength for the
day by a hearty breakfast, we covered what remained, which was enough
for one meal, with rocks, in order that it might be safe from any
marauding bird, and, saddling our mules, turned our faces once more
towards the peaks. This time we determined to proceed quietly and
cautiously, deliberately resolved to accomplish our object if it were
within the compass of human means. We were of opinion that a long
defile which lay to the left of yesterday's route would lead us to the
foot of the main peak. Our mules had been refreshed by the fine grass
in the little ravine at the Island camp, and we intended to ride up the
defile as far as possible, in order to husband our strength for the
main ascent. Though this was a fine passage, still it was a defile of
the most rugged mountains known, and we had many a rough and steep
slippery place to cross before reaching the end. In this place the sun
rarely shone; snow lay along the border of the small stream which
flowed through it, and occasional icy passages made the footing of the
mules very insecure, and the rocks and ground were moist with the
trickling waters in this spring of mighty rivers. We soon had the
satisfaction to find ourselves riding along the huge wall which forms
the central summits of the chain. There at last it rose by our sides, a
nearly perpendicular wall of granite, terminating 2,000 to 3,000 feet
above our heads in a serrated line of broken, jagged cones. We rode on
until we came almost immediately below the main peak, which I
denominated the Snow peak, as it exhibited more snow to the eye than
any of the neighboring summits. Here were three small lakes of a green
color, each, perhaps, of a thousand yards in diameter, and apparently
very deep. These lay in a kind of chasm; and, according to the
barometer, we had attained but a few hundred feet above the Island
lake. The barometer here stood at 20.450, attached thermometer 70°.

We managed to get our mules up to a little bench about a hundred feet
above the lakes, where there was a patch of good grass, and turned them
loose to graze. During our rough ride to this place, they had exhibited
a wonderful surefootedness. Parts of the defile were filled with
angular, sharp fragments of rock, three or four and eight or ten feet
cube; and among these they had worked their way, leaping from one
narrow point to another, rarely making a false step, and giving us no
occasion to dismount. Having divested ourselves of every unnecessary
encumbrance, we commenced the ascent. This time, like experienced
travelers, we did not press ourselves, but climbed leisurely, sitting
down so soon as we found breath beginning to fail. At intervals we
reached places where a number of springs gushed from the rocks, and
about 1800 feet above the lakes came to the snow line. From this point
our progress was uninterrupted climbing. Hitherto I had worn a pair of
thick moccasins, with soles of _parflèche_, but here I put on a light,
thin pair, which I had brought for the purpose, as now the use of our
toes became necessary to a further advance. I availed myself of a sort
of comb of the mountain, which stood against the wall like a buttress,
and which the wind and the solar radiation, joined to the steepness of
the smooth rock, had kept almost entirely free from snow. Up this I
made my way rapidly. Our cautious method of advancing at the outset had
spared my strength; and, with the exception of a slight disposition to
headache, I felt no remains of yesterday's illness. In a few minutes we
reached a point where the buttress was overhanging, and there was no
other way of surmounting the difficulty than by passing around one side
of it, which was the face of a vertical precipice of several hundred
feet.

Putting hands and feet in the crevices between the blocks, I succeeded
in getting over it, and, when I reached the top, found my companions in
a small valley below. Descending to them, we continued climbing, and in
a short time reached the crest. I sprang upon the summit, and another
step would have precipitated me into an immense snow-field five hundred
feet below. To the edge of this field was a sheer icy precipice; and
then, with a gradual fall, the field sloped off for about a mile, until
it struck the foot of another lower ridge. I stood on a narrow crest,
about three feet in width, with an inclination of about 20°N. 51°E. As
soon as I had gratified the first feelings of curiosity, I descended,
and each man ascended in his turn; for I would only allow one at a time
to mount the unstable and precarious slab, which it seemed a breath
would hurl into the abyss below. We mounted the barometer in the snow
of the summit, and, fixing a ramrod in a crevice, unfurled the national
flag to wave in the breeze where never flag waved before. During our
morning's ascent, we had met no sign of animal life, except the small
sparrow-like bird already mentioned. A stillness the most profound and
a terrible solitude forced themselves constantly on the mind as the
great features of the place. Here, on the summit, where the stillness
was absolute, unbroken by any sound, and solitude complete, we thought
ourselves beyond the region of animated life; but while we were sitting
on the rock, a solitary bee (_bromus, the humble-bee_) came winging his
flight from the eastern valley, and lit on the knee of one of the men.

It was a strange place, the icy rock and the highest peak of the Rocky
mountains, for a lover of warm sunshine and flowers; and we pleased
ourselves with the idea that he was the first of his species to cross
the mountain barrier--a solitary pioneer to foretell the advance of
civilization. I believe that a moment's thought would have made us let
him continue his way unharmed; but we carried out the law of this
country, where all animated nature seems at war; and, seizing him
immediately, put him in at least a fit place--in the leaves of a large
book, among the flowers we had collected on our way. The barometer
stood at 18.293, the attached thermometer at 44°; giving for the
elevation of this summit 13,570 feet above the Gulf of Mexico, which
may be called the highest flight of the bee. It is certainly the
highest known flight of that insect. From the description given by
Mackenzie of the mountains where he crossed them, with that of a French
officer still farther to the north, and Colonel Long's measurements to
the south, joined to the opinion of the oldest traders of the country,
it is presumed that this is the highest peak of the Rocky mountains.
The day was sunny and bright, but a slight shining mist hung over the
lower plains, which interfered with our view of the surrounding
country. On one side we overlooked innumerable lakes and streams, the
spring of the Colorado of the Gulf of California; and on the other was
the Wind River valley, where were the heads of the Yellowstone branch
of the Missouri; far to the north, we could just discover the snowy
heads of the _Trois Tetons_, where were the sources of the Missouri and
Columbia rivers; and at the southern extremity of the ridge, the peaks
were plainly visible, among which were some of the springs of the
Nebraska or Platte river. Around us, the whole scene had one main,
striking feature, which was that of terrible convulsion. Parallel to
its length, the ridge was split into chasms and fissures; between which
rose the thin lofty walls, terminated with slender minarets and
columns. According to the barometer, the little crest of the wall on
which we stood was three thousand five hundred and seventy feet above
that place, and two thousand seven hundred and eighty above the little
lakes at the bottom, immediately at our feet. Our camp at the Two Hills
(an astronomical station) bore south 3° east, which, with a bearing
afterwards obtained from a fixed position, enabled us to locate the
peak. The bearing of the _Trois Tetons_ was north 50° west, and the
direction of the central ridge of the Wind River mountains south 39°
east. The summit rock was gneiss, succeeded by sienitic gneiss. Sienite
and feldspar succeeded in our descent to the snow line, where we found
a feldspathic granite. I had remarked that the noise produced by the
explosion of our pistols had the usual degree of loudness, but was not
in the least prolonged, expiring almost instantaneously.

Having now made what observations our means afforded, we proceeded to
descend. We had accomplished an object of laudable ambition, and beyond
the strict order of our instructions. We had climbed the loftiest peak
of the Rocky mountains, and looked down upon the snow a thousand feet
below; and, standing where never human foot had stood before, felt the
exultation of first explorers. It was about two o'clock when we left
the summit, and when we reached the bottom, the sun had already sunk
behind the wall, and the day was drawing to a close. It would have been
pleasant to have lingered here and on the summit longer; but we hurried
away as rapidly as the ground would permit, for it was an object to
regain our party as soon as possible, not knowing what accident the
next hour might bring forth.

We reached our deposite of provisions at nightfall. Here was not the
inn which awaits the tired traveler on his return from Mont Blanc, or
the orange groves of South America, with their refreshing juices and
soft fragrant air; but we found our little _cache_ of dried meat and
coffee undisturbed. Though the moon was bright, the road was full of
precipices, and the fatigue of the day had been great. We therefore
abandoned the idea of rejoining our friends, and lay down on the rock,
and, in spite of the cold, slept soundly.

16th.--We left our encampment with the daylight. We saw on our way
large flocks of the mountain-goat looking down on us from the cliffs.
At the crack of the rifle, they would bound off among the rocks, and in
a few minutes make their appearance on some lofty peak, some hundred or
a thousand feet above. It is needless to attempt any further
description of the country; the portion over which we traveled this
morning was rough as imagination could picture it, and to us seemed
equally beautiful. A concourse of lakes and rushing waters--mountains
of rocks naked and destitute of vegetable earth--dells and ravines of
the most exquisite beauty, all kept green and fresh by the great
moisture in the air, and sown with brilliant flowers, and everywhere
thrown around all the glory of most magnificent scenes,--these
constitute the features of the place, and impress themselves vividly on
the mind of the traveler. It was not until 11 o'clock that we reached
the place where our animals had been left, when we first attempted the
mountains on foot. Near one of the still burning fires we found a piece
of meat, which our friends had thrown away, and which furnished us a
mouthful--a very scanty breakfast. We continued directly on, and
reached our camp on the mountain lake at dusk. We found all well.
Nothing had occurred to interrupt the quiet since our departure, and
the fine grass and good cool water had done much to re-establish our
animals. All heard with great delight the order to turn our faces
homeward; and towards sundown of the 17th, we encamped again at the Two
Buttes.

In the course of this afternoon's march, the barometer was broken past
remedy. I regretted it, as I was desirous to compare it again with Dr.
Engleman's barometers at St. Louis, to which mine were referred; but it
had done its part well, and my objects were mainly fulfilled.

19th.--We left our camp on Little Sandy river about seven in the
morning, and traversed the same sandy, undulating country. The air was
filled with the turpentine scent of the various _artemisias_, which are
now in bloom, and, numerous as they are, give much gayety to the
landscape of the plains. At ten o'clock, we stood exactly on the divide
in the pass, where the wagon-road crosses; and, descending immediately
upon the Sweet Water, halted to take a meridian observation of the sun.
The latitude was 42° 24' 32".

In the course of the afternoon we saw buffalo again, and at our evening
halt on the Sweet Water the roasted ribs again made their appearance
around the fires; and, with them, good humor, and laughter and song,
were restored to the camp. Our coffee had been expended, but we now
made a kind of tea from the roots of the wild-cherry tree.

23d.--Yesterday evening we reached our encampment at Rock Independence,
where I took some astronomical observations. Here, not unmindful of the
custom of early travelers and explorers in our country, I engraved on
this rock of the Far West a symbol of the Christian faith. Among the
thickly inscribed names, I made on the hard granite the impression of a
large cross, which I covered with a black preparation of India-rubber,
well calculated to resist the influence of wind and rain. It stands
amidst the names of many who have long since found their way to the
grave, and for whom the huge rock is a giant gravestone.

One George Weymouth was sent out to Maine by the Earl of Southampton,
Lord Arundel, and others; and in the narrative of their discoveries, he
says: "The next day we ascended in our pinnace that part of the river
which lies more to the westward, carrying with us a cross--a thing
never omitted by any Christian traveler--which we erected at the
ultimate end of our route." This was in the year 1605; and in 1842 I
obeyed the feeling of early travelers, and left the impression of the
cross deeply engraved on the vast rock one thousand miles beyond the
Mississippi, to which discoverers have given the national name of _Rock
Independence_.

In obedience to my instructions to survey the river Platte, if
possible, I had determined to make an attempt at this place. The
India-rubber boat was filled with air, placed in the water, and loaded
with what was necessary for our operations; and I embarked with Mr.
Preuss and a party of men. When we had dragged our boat a mile or two
over the sands, I abandoned the impossible undertaking, and waited for
the arrival of the party, when we packed up our boat and equipage, and
at nine o'clock were again moving along on our land journey. We
continued along the valley on the right bank of the Sweet Water, where
the formation, as already described, consists of a grayish micaceous
sandstone, and fine-grained conglomerate, and marl. We passed over a
ridge which borders or constitutes the river hills of the Platte,
consisting of huge blocks, sixty or eighty feet cube, of decomposing
granite. The cement which united them was probably of easier
decomposition, and has disappeared and left them isolate, and separated
by small spaces. Numerous horns of the mountain-goat were lying among
the rocks; and in the ravines were cedars, whose trunks were of
extraordinary size. From this ridge we descended to a small open plain,
at the mouth of the Sweet Water, which rushed with a rapid current into
the Platte, here flowing along in a broad and apparently deep stream,
which seemed, from its turbid appearance, to be considerably swollen. I
obtained here some astronomical observations, and the afternoon was
spent in getting our boat ready for navigation the next day.

24th.--We started before sunrise, intending to breakfast at Goat
island. I had directed the land party, in charge of Bernier, to proceed
to this place, where they were to remain, should they find no note to
apprize them of our having passed. In the event of receiving this
information, they were to continue their route, passing by certain
places which had been designated. Mr. Preuss accompanied me, and with
us were five of my best men, viz.: C. Lambert, Basil Lajeunesse, Honore
Ayot, Benoist, and Descoteaux. Here appeared no scarcity of water, and
we took on board, with various instruments and baggage, provisions for
ten or twelve days. We paddled down the river rapidly, for our little
craft was light as a duck on the water; and the sun had been some time
risen, when we heard before us a hollow roar, which we supposed to be
that of a fall, of which we had heard a vague rumor, but whose exact
locality no one had been able to describe to us. We were approaching a
ridge, through which the river passes by a place called "canon,"
(pronounced _kanyon_,)--a Spanish word, signifying a piece of
artillery, the barrel of a gun, or any kind of tube; and which, in this
country, has been adopted to describe the passage of a river between
perpendicular rocks of great height, which frequently approach each
other so closely overhead as to form a kind of tunnel over the stream,
which foams along below, half choked up by fallen fragments. Between
the mouth of the Sweet Water and Goat island, there is probably a fall
of three hundred feet, and that was principally made in the canons
before us; as, without them, the water was comparatively smooth. As we
neared the ridge, the river made a sudden turn, and swept squarely down
against one of the walls of the canon, with great velocity, and so
steep a descent that it had, to the eye, the appearance of an inclined
plane. When we launched into this, the men jumped overboard, to check
the velocity of the boat; but were soon in water up to their necks, and
our boat ran on. But we succeeded in bringing her to a small point of
rocks on the right, at the mouth of the canon. Here was a kind of
elevated sand-beach, not many yards square, backed by the rocks; and
around the point the river swept at a right angle. Trunks of trees
deposited on jutting points, twenty or thirty feet above, and other
marks, showed that the water here frequently rose to a considerable
height. The ridge was of the same decomposing granite already
mentioned, and the water had worked the surface, in many places, into a
wavy surface of ridges and holes. We ascended the rocks to reconnoitre
the ground, and from the summit the passage appeared to be a continued
cataract, foaming over many obstructions, and broken by a number of
small falls. We saw nowhere a fall answering to that which had been
described to us as having twenty or twenty-five feet; but still
concluded this to be the place in question, as, in the season of
floods, the rush of the river against the wall would produce a great
rise; and the waters, reflected squarely off, would descend through the
passage in a sheet of foam, having every appearance of a large fall.
Eighteen years previous to this time, as I have subsequently learned
from himself, Mr. Fitzpatrick, somewhere above on this river, had
embarked with a valuable cargo of beaver. Unacquainted with the stream,
which he believed would conduct him safely to the Missouri, he came
unexpectedly into this canon, where he was wrecked, with the total loss
of his furs. It would have been a work of great time and labor to pack
our baggage across the ridge, and I determined to run the canon. We all
again embarked, and at first attempted to check the way of the boat;
but the water swept through with so much violence that we narrowly
escaped being swamped, and were obliged to let her go in the full force
of the current, and trust to the skill of the boatmen. The dangerous
places in this canon were where huge rocks had fallen from above, and
hemmed in the already narrow pass of the river to an open space of
three or four and five feet. These obstructions raised the water
considerably above, which was sometimes precipitated over in a fall;
and at other places, where this dam was too high, rushed through the
contracted opening with tremendous violence. Had our boat been made of
wood, in passing the narrows she would have been staved; but her
elasticity preserved her unhurt from every shock, and she seemed fairly
to leap over the falls.

In this way we passed three cataracts in succession, where perhaps 100
feet of smooth water intervened; and, finally, with a shout of pleasure
at our success, issued from our tunnel into the open day beyond. We
were so delighted with the performance of our boat, and so confident in
her powers, that we would not have hesitated to leap a fall of ten feet
with her. We put to shore for breakfast at some willows on the right
bank, immediately below the mouth of the canon; for it was now eight
o'clock, and we had been working since daylight, and were all wet,
fatigued, and hungry. While the men were preparing breakfast, I went
out to reconnoitre. The view was very limited. The course of the river
was smooth, so far as I could see; on both sides were broken hills; and
but a mile or two below was another high ridge. The rock at the mouth
of the canon was still the decomposing granite, with great quantities
of mica, which made a very glittering sand.

We re-embarked at nine o'clock, and in about twenty minutes reached the
next canon. Landing on a rocky shore at its commencement, we ascended
the ridge to reconnoitre. Portage was out of the question. So far as we
could see, the jagged rocks pointed out the course of the canon, on a
winding line of seven or eight miles. It was simply a narrow, dark
chasm in the rock; and here the perpendicular faces were much higher
than in the previous pass, being at this end two to three hundred, and
further down, as we afterwards ascertained, five hundred feet in
vertical height. Our previous success had made us bold, and we
determined again to run the canon. Every thing was secured as firmly as
possible; and having divested ourselves of the greater part of our
clothing, we pushed into the stream. To save our chronometer from
accident, Mr. Preuss took it, and attempted to proceed along the shore
on the masses of rock, which in places were piled up on either side;
but, after he had walked about five minutes, every thing like shore
disappeared, and the vertical wall came squarely down into the water.
He therefore waited until we came up. An ugly pass lay before us. We
had made fast to the stern of the boat a strong rope about fifty feet
long; and three of the men clambered along among the rocks, and with
this rope let her slowly through the pass. In several places high rocks
lay scattered about in the channel; and in the narrows it required all
our strength and skill to avoid staving the boat on the sharp points.
In one of these, the boat proved a little too broad, and stuck fast for
an instant, while the water flew over us; fortunately, it was but for
an instant, as our united strength forced her immediately through. The
water swept overboard only a sextant and a pair of saddle-bags. I
caught the sextant as it passed by me; but the saddle-bags became the
prey of the whirlpools. We reached the place where Mr. Preuss was
standing, took him on board, and, with the aid of the boat, put the men
with the rope on the succeeding pile of rocks. We found this passage
much worse than the previous one, and our position was rather a bad
one. To go back was impossible; before us, the cataract was a sheet of
foam; and shut up in the chasm by the rocks, which, in some places,
seemed almost to meet overhead, the roar of the water was deafening. We
pushed off again; but, after making a little distance, the force of the
current became too great for the men on shore, and two of them let go
the rope. Lajeunesse, the third man, hung on, and was jerked
headforemost into the river from a rock about twelve feet high; and
down the boat shot like an arrow, Basil following us in the rapid
current, and exerting all his strength to keep in mid channel--his head
only seen occasionally like a black spot in the white foam. How far we
went, I do not exactly know; but we succeeded in turning the boat into
an eddy below. "'_Cre Dieu_," said Basil Lajeunesse, as he arrived
immediately after us, "_Je crois bien que j'ai nagé un demi mile_." He
had owed his life to his skill as a swimmer, and I determined to take
him and the two others on board, and trust to skill and fortune to
reach the other end in safety. We placed ourselves on our knees with
the short paddles in our hands, the most skilful boatman being at the
bow; and again we commenced our rapid descent. We cleared rock after
rock, and shot past fall after fall, our little boat seeming to play
with the cataract. We became flushed with success, and familiar with
the danger; and, yielding to the excitement of the occasion, broke
forth into a Canadian boat-song. Singing, or rather shouting; we dashed
along, and were, I believe, in the midst of the chorus, when the boat
struck a concealed rock immediately at the foot of a fall, which
whirled her over in an instant. Three of my men could not swim, and my
first feeling was to assist them, and save some of our effects; but a
sharp concussion or two convinced me that I had not yet saved myself. A
few strokes brought me into an eddy, and I landed on a pile of rocks on
the left side. Looking around, I saw that Mr. Preuss had gained the
shore on the same side, about twenty yards below; and a little climbing
and swimming soon brought him to my side. On the opposite side, against
the wall, lay the boat bottom up; and Lambert was in the act of saving
Descoteaux, whom he had grasped by the hair, and who could not swim;
"_Lâche pas_," said he, as I afterwards learned, "_lâche pas, cher
frère_." "_Crains pas_," was the reply: "_je m'en vais mourir avant que
de te lâcher_." Such was the reply of courage and generosity in this
danger. For a hundred yards below the current was covered with floating
books and boxes, bales and blankets, and scattered articles of
clothing; and so strong and boiling was the stream, that even our heavy
instruments, which were all in cases, kept on the surface, and the
sextant, circle, and the long black box of the telescope, were in view
at once. For a moment, I felt somewhat disheartened. All our
books--almost every record of the journey--our journals and registers
of astronomical and barometrical observations--had been lost in a
moment. But it was no time to indulge in regrets; and I immediately set
about endeavoring to save something from the wreck. Making ourselves
understood as well as possible by signs, (for nothing could be heard in
the roar of the waters,) we commenced our operations. Of every thing on
board, the only article that had been saved was my double-barreled gun,
which Descoteaux had caught and clung to with drowning tenacity. The
men continued down the river on the left bank. Mr. Preuss and myself
descended on the side we were on; and Lajeunesse, with a paddle in his
hand, jumped on the boat alone, and continued down the canon. She was
now light, and cleared every bad place with much less difficulty. In a
short time he was joined by Lambert, and the search was continued for
about a mile and a half, which was as far as the boat could proceed in
the pass.

Here the walls were about five hundred feet high, and the fragments of
rocks from above had choked the river into a hollow pass, but one or
two feet above the surface. Through this and the interstices of the
rock, the water found its way. Favored beyond our expectations, all of
our registers had been recovered, with the exception of one of my
journals, which contained the notes and incidents of travel, and
topographical descriptions, a number of scattered astronomical
observations, principally meridian altitudes of the sun, and our
barometrical register west of Laramie. Fortunately, our other journals
contained duplicates of the most important barometrical observations
which had been taken in the mountains. These, with a few scattered
notes, were all that had been preserved of our meteorological
observations. In addition to these, we saved the circle; and these,
with a few blankets, constituted every thing that had been rescued from
the waters.

The day was running rapidly away, and it was necessary to reach Goat
island, whither the party had preceded us, before night. In this
uncertain country, the traveler is so much in the power of chance, that
we became somewhat uneasy in regard to them. Should any thing have
occurred, in the brief interval of our separation, to prevent our
rejoining them, our situation would be rather a desperate one. We had
not a morsel of provisions--our arms and ammunition were gone--and we
were entirely at the mercy of any straggling party of savages, and not
a little in danger of starvation. We therefore set out at once in two
parties, Mr. Preuss and myself on the left, and the men on the opposite
side of the river. Climbing out of the canon, we found ourselves in a
very broken country, where we were not yet able to recognise any
locality. In the course of our descent through the canon, the rocks,
which at the upper end was of the decomposing granite, changed into a
varied sandstone formation. The hills and points of the ridges were
covered with fragments of a yellow sandstone, of which the strata were
sometimes displayed in the broken ravines which interrupted our course,
and made our walk extremely fatiguing. At one point of the canon the
red argillaceous sandstone rose in a wall of five hundred feet,
surmounted by a stratum of white sandstone; and in an opposite ravine a
column of red sandstone rose, in form like a steeple, about one hundred
and fifty feet high. The scenery was extremely picturesque, and
notwithstanding our forlorn condition, we were frequently obliged to
stop and admire it. Our progress was not very rapid. We had emerged
from the water half naked, and, on arriving at the top of the
precipice, I found myself with only one moccasin. The fragments of rock
made walking painful, and I was frequently obliged to stop and pull out
the thorns of the _cactus_, here the prevailing plant, and with which a
few minutes' walk covered the bottoms of my feet. From this ridge the
river emerged into a smiling prairie, and, descending to the bank for
water, we were joined by Benoist. The rest of the party were out of
sight, having taken a more inland route. We crossed the river
repeatedly--sometimes able to ford it, and sometimes swimming--climbed
over the ridges of two more canons, and towards evening reached the
cut, which we here named the Hot Spring gate. On our previous visit in
July, we had not entered this pass, reserving it for our descent in the
boat; and when we entered it this evening, Mr. Preuss was a few hundred
feet in advance. Heated with the long march, he came suddenly upon a
fine bold spring gushing from the rock, about ten feet above the river.
Eager to enjoy the crystal water, he threw himself down for a hasty
draught, and took a mouthful of water almost boiling hot. He said
nothing to Benoist, who laid himself down to drink; but the steam from
the water arrested his eagerness, and he escaped the hot draught. We
had no thermometer to ascertain the temperature, but I could hold my
hand in the water just long enough to count two seconds. There are
eight or ten of these springs discharging themselves by streams large
enough to be called runs. A loud hollow noise was heard from the rock,
which I supposed to be produced by the fall of water. The strata
immediately where they issue is a fine white and calcareous sandstone,
covered with an incrustation of common salt. Leaving this Thermopylæ of
the west, in a short walk we reached the red ridge which has been
described as lying just above Goat island. Ascending this, we found
some fresh tracks and a button, which showed that the other men had
already arrived. A shout from the man who first reached the top of the
ridge, responded to from below, informed us that our friends were all
on the island; and we were soon among them. We found some pieces of
buffalo standing around the fire for us, and managed to get some dry
clothes among the people. A sudden storm of rain drove us into the best
shelter we could find, where we slept soundly, after one of the most
fatiguing days I have ever experienced.

25th.--Early this morning Lajeunesse was sent to the wreck for the
articles which had been saved, and about noon we left the island. The
mare which we had left here in July had much improved in condition, and
she served us well again for some time, but was finally abandoned at a
subsequent part of the journey. At 10 in the morning of the 26th we
reached Cache camp, where we found every thing undisturbed. We
disinterred our deposite, arranged our carts which had been left here
on the way out; and, traveling a few miles in the afternoon, encamped
for the night at the ford of the Platte.

27th.--At mid-day we halted at the place where we had taken dinner on
the 27th of July. The country which, when we passed up, looked as if
the hard winter frosts had passed over it, had now assumed a new face,
so much of vernal freshness had been given to it by the rains. The
Platte was exceedingly low--a mere line of water among the sandbars. We
reached Laramie fort on the last day of August, after an absence of
forty-two days, and had the pleasure to find our friends all well. The
fortieth day had been fixed for our return; and the quick eyes of the
Indians, who were on the lookout for us, discovered our flag as we
wound among the hills. The fort saluted us with repeated discharges of
its single piece, which we returned with scattered volleys of our
small-arms, and felt the joy of a home reception in getting back to
this remote station, which seemed so far off as we went out.



SEPTEMBER.


On the morning of the 3d September we bade adieu to our kind friends at
the fort, and continued our homeward journey down the Platte, which was
glorious with the autumnal splendor of innumerable flowers in full and
brilliant bloom. On the warm sands, among the _helianthi_, one of the
characteristic plants, we saw great numbers of rattlesnakes, of which
five or six were killed in the morning's ride. We occupied ourselves in
improving our previous survey of the river; and, as the weather was
fine, astronomical observations were generally made at night and at
noon.

We halted for a short time on the afternoon of the 5th with a village
of Sioux Indians, some of whose chiefs we had met at Laramie. The water
in the Platte was exceedingly low; in many places, the large expanse of
sands, with some occasional stunted tree on its banks, gave it the air
of the seacoast; the bed of the river being merely a succession of
sandbars, among which the channel was divided into rivulets of a few
inches deep. We crossed and recrossed with our carts repeatedly and at
our pleasure; and, whenever an obstruction barred our way in the shape
of precipitous bluffs that came down upon the river, we turned directly
into it, and made our way along the sandy bed, with no other
inconvenience than the frequent quicksands, which greatly fatigued our
animals. Disinterring on the way the _cache_ which had been made by our
party when they ascended the river, we reached without accident, on the
evening of the 12th of September, our old encampment of the 2d of July,
at the junction of the forks. Our _cache_ of the barrel of pork was
found undisturbed, and proved a seasonable addition to our stock of
provisions. At this place I had determined to make another attempt to
descend the Platte by water, and accordingly spent two days in the
construction of a bull boat. Men were sent out on the evening of our
arrival, the necessary number of bulls killed, and their skins brought
to the camp. Four of the best of them were strongly sewed together with
buffalo sinew, and stretched over a basket frame of willow. The seams
were then covered with ashes and tallow, and the boat left exposed to
the sun for the greater part of one day, which was sufficient to dry
and contract the skin, and make the whole work solid and strong. It had
a rounded bow, was eight feet long and five broad, and drew with four
men about four inches water. On the morning of the 15th we embarked in
our hide boat, Mr. Preuss and myself, with two men. We dragged her over
the sands for three or four miles, and then left her on a bar, and
abandoned entirely all further attempts to navigate this river. The
names given by the Indians are always remarkably appropriate; and
certainly none was ever more so than that which they have given to this
stream--"The Nebraska, or Shallow river." Walking steadily the
remainder of the day, a little before dark we overtook our people at
their remaining camp, about twenty-one miles below the junction. The
next morning we crossed the Platte, and continued our way down the
river bottom on the left bank, where we found an excellent,
plainly-beaten road.

On the 18th we reached Grand Island, which is fifty-two miles long,
with an average breadth of one mile and three-quarters. It has on it
some small eminences, and is sufficiently elevated to be secure from
the annual floods of the river. As has been already remarked, it is
well timbered; with an excellent soil, and recommends itself to notice
as the best point for a military position on the Lower Platte.

On the 22d we arrived at the village of the Grand Pawnees, on the right
bank of the river, about thirty miles above the mouth of the Loup fork.
They were gathering in their corn, and we obtained from them a very
welcome supply of vegetables.

The morning of the 24th we reached the Loup fork of the Platte. At the
place where we forded it, this stream was four hundred and thirty yards
broad, with a swift current of _clear_ water; in this respect,
differing from the Platte, which has a yellow muddy color, derived from
the limestone and marl formation, of which we have previously spoken.
The ford was difficult, as the water was so deep that it came into the
body of the carts, and we reached the opposite bank after repeated
attempts, ascending and descending the bed of the river, in order to
avail ourselves of the bars. We encamped on the left bank of the fork,
in the point of land at its junction with the Platte. During the two
days that we remained here for astronomical observations, the bad
weather permitted us to obtain but one good observation for the
latitude--a meridian altitude of the sun, which gave for the latitude
of the mouth of the Loup fork, 41° 22' 11".

Five or six days previously, I had sent forward C. Lambert, with two
men, to Bellevue, with directions to ask from Mr. P. Sarpy, the
gentleman in charge of the American Company's establishment at that
place, the aid of his carpenters in constructing a boat, in which I
proposed to descend the Missouri. On the afternoon of the 27th we met
one of the men, who had been dispatched by Mr. Sarpy with a welcome
supply of provisions and a very kind note, which gave us the very
gratifying intelligence that our boat was in rapid progress. On the
evening of the 30th we encamped in an almost impenetrable undergrowth
on the left bank of the Platte, in the point of land at its confluence
with the Missouri--315 miles, according to our reckoning, from the
junction of the forks, and 520 from Fort Laramie. From the junction we
had found the bed of the Platte occupied with numerous islands, many of
them very large, and all well timbered; possessing, as well as the
bottom lands of the river, a very excellent soil. With the exception of
some scattered groves on the banks, the bottoms are generally without
timber. A portion of these consist of low grounds, covered with a
profusion of fine grasses, and are probably inundated in the spring;
the remaining part is high river prairie, entirely beyond the influence
of the floods. The breadth of the river is usually three-quarters of a
mile, except where it is enlarged by islands. That portion of its
course which is occupied by Grand island has an average breadth, from
shore to shore, of two and a half miles.



OCTOBER.


1st.--I rose this morning long before daylight, and heard with a
feeling of pleasure the tinkling of cow-bells at the settlements on the
opposite side of the Missouri. Early in the day we reached Mr. Sarpy's
residence; and, in the security and comfort of his hospitable mansion,
felt the pleasure of being within the pale of civilization. We found
our boat on the stocks; a few days sufficed to complete her; and, in
the afternoon of the 4th, we embarked on the Missouri. All our
equipage--horses, carts, and the _materiel_ of the camp--had been sold
at public auction at Bellevue. The strength of my party enabled me to
man the boat with ten oars, relieved every hour; and we descended
rapidly. Early on the morning of the 10th, we halted to make some
astronomical observations at the mouth of the Kansas, exactly four
months since we had left the trading-post of Mr. Cyprian Chouteau, on
the same river, ten miles above. On our descent to this place, we had
employed ourselves in surveying and sketching the Missouri, making
astronomical observations regularly at night and at mid-day, whenever
the weather permitted. These operations on the river were continued
until our arrival at the city of St. Louis, Missouri, on the 17th. At
St. Louis, the sale of our remaining effects was made; and, leaving
that city by steamboat on the 18th, I had the honor to report to you at
the city of Washington on the 29th of October.

Very respectfully, sir,
  Your obedient servant,
    J. C. FREMONT,
      _2d Lieutenant Corps of Topographical Engineers._



*       *       *       *       *


ASTRONOMICAL OBSERVATIONS

_The Longitudes given in the subjoined Table are referred to the
meridian of Greenwich._

For the determination of astronomical positions, we were provided with
the following instruments:

  One telescope, magnifying power 120.
  One circle, by Gambey, Paris.
  One sextant, by Gambey, Paris.
  One sextant, by Troughton.
  One box chronometer, No.7,810, by French.
  One Brockbank pocket chronometer.
  One small watch with a light chronometer balance, No.
    4,632, by Arnold and Dent.

The rate of the chronometer, 7,810, is exhibited in the following
statement:

  "NEW YORK, May 5, 1842
  "Chronometer No. 7,810, by French, is this day at noon--
  "_Slow_ of Greenwich mean time,          11' 4"
  "_Fast_ of New York mean time,        4_h._ 45' 1"
  "Loses per day                                             2".7
  "ARTHUR STEWART, 74 Merchants' Exchange."

An accident among some rough ground in the neighborhood of the Kansas
river, strained the balance of this chronometer, (No. 7,810) and
rendered it useless during the remainder of the campaign. From the 9th
of June to the 24th of August, inclusively, the longitudes depend upon
the Brockbank pocket chronometer; the rate of which, on leaving St.
Louis, was fourteen seconds. The rate obtained by observations at Fort
Laramie, 14".05, has been used in calculation.

From the 24th of August until the termination of the journey, No. 4,632
(of which the rate was 35".79) was used for the same purposes. The rate
of this watch was irregular, and I place little confidence in the few
longitudes which depend upon it, though, so far as we have any means of
judging, they appear tolerably correct.

_Table of Latitudes and Longitudes, deduced from Observations made
during the Journey._


Date    Station                Latitude.        Longitude.

1842                           Deg. min. sec.   Deg. min. sec.

May 27 St. Louis, residence
       of Colonel Brunt,.......38   37   34
June 8 Chouteau's lower
       trading-post; Kansas
       river,..................39   05   57     94   25   46
    16 Left bank of Kansas
       river. 7 miles above
       the ford,...............39   06   40     95   38   05
    18 Vermilion creek.........39   15   19     96   04   07
    19 Cold springs, near
         the road to Laramie,..39   30   40     96   14   49
    20 Big Blue river, ........39   45   08     96   32   35
    25 Little Blue river, .....40   26   50     98   22   12
    26 Right bank of Platte
       river,..................40   41   06     98   45   49
    27 Right bank of Platte
       river...................40   39   32     99   05   24
    28 Right bank of Platte
       river, .................40   39   51
    30 Right bank of Platte
       river...................40   39   55    100   05   47
July 2 Junction of north and
       south forks of the
       Nebraska or Platte
       river,..................41   05   05    100   49   43
     4 South fork of Platte
       river, left bank,
     6 South fork of Platte
       river, island...........40   51   17    103   07
     7 South fork of Platte
       river, left bank........40   53   26    103   30   37
    11 South fork of Platte
       river, St. Vrain's
       fort ,..................40   22   35    105   12   12
    12 Crow creek,.............40   41   59    104   57   49
    13 On a stream, name
       unknown ................41   08   30    104   39   37
    14 Horse creek. Goshen's
       hole? ..................41   40   13    104   24   36
    16 Fort Laramie, near
       the mouth of Laramie's
       fork, ..................42   12   10    104   47   43
    23 North fork of Platte
       river...................42   39   25    104   59   59
    24 North fork of Platte
       river...................42   47   40
    25 North fork of Platte
       river, Dried Meat camp..42   51   35    105   50   15
    26 North fork of Platte
       river, noon halt........42   50   08
    26 North fork of Platte
       river, mouth of Deer
       creek,..................42   52   24    106   08   24
    28 North fork of Platte
       river, Cache camp,......42   50   53    106   38   26
    29 North fork of Platte
       river, left bank........42   38   01    106   54   32
    30 North fork of Platte
       river, Goat island......42   33   27    107   13   29
Aug. 1 Sweet Water river,
       one mile below Rock
       Independence,...........42   29   56    107   25   23
     4 Sweet Water river.......42   32   31    108   30   13
     7 Sweet Water river.......42   27   15    109   21   32
     8 Little Sandy creek,
       tributary to the
       Colorado of the West,...42   27   34    109   37   59
     9 New fork, tributary to
       the Colorado,...........42   42   46    109   58   11
    10 Mountain lake,... ......42   49   49    110   08   03
    15 Highest peak of the
        Wind River mountains,
    19 Sweet Water, noon
       halt,...................42   24   32
    19 Sweet Water river,......42   22   22
    20 Sweet Water river,......42   31   46
    22 Sweet Water river,
       noon halt,..............42   26   10
    22 Sweet Water river,
       Rock Independence,......42   29   36
    23 North fork of Platte
       river, mouth of Sweet
       Water, .................42   27   18
    30 Horse-shoe creek,
       noon halt,..............42   24   24
Sept 3 North fork of Platte
       river, right bank,......42   01   40
     4 North fork of Platte
       river, near Scott's
       bluffs..................41   54   38
     5 North fork of Platte
       river, right bank,
       six miles above
       Chimney rock,...........41   43   36
     8 North fork of Platte
       river, mouth of Ash
       creek,..................41   17   19
     9 North fork of Platte
       river, right bank.......41   14   30
    10 North fork of Platte
       river, Cedar bluff,.....41   10   16
    16 Platte river, noon
       halt....................40   54   31
    16 Platte river, left
       bank, ..................40   52   74
    17 Platte river, left
       bank,...................40   42   38
    18 Platte river, left
       bank, ..................40   40   21
    19 Platte river, left
       bank....................40   39   44
    20 Platte river, noon
       halt, left bank, .......40   48   19
    20 Platte river, left
       bank,...................40   54   02
    21 Platte river, left
       bank ...................41   05   37
    23 Platte river, noon
       halt, left bank.........41   20   20
    23 Platte river, left
       bank ...................41   22   52
    25 Platte river, mouth
       of Loup fork,...........41   22   11
    28 Platte river, mouth
       of Elk Horn river.......41   09   34
    29 Platte river, left
       bank,...................41   02   15
Oct. 2 Bellevue, at the post
       of the American Fur
       Company, right bank of
       the Missouri river......41   08   24   95   20
     4 Left bank of the
       Missouri, opposite to
       the right bank of the
       mouth of the Platte.....41   02   11
     5 Missouri river,.........40   34   08
     6 Bertholet's island,
       noon halt,..............40   27   08
     6 Missouri river, mouth
       of Nishnabatona river, .40   16   40
     8 Missouri river, left
       bank ...................39   36   02
    10 Missouri river, mouth
       of the Kansas river.....39   06   03



*       *       *       *       *


A REPORT

OF

THE EXPLORING EXPEDITION

TO

OREGON AND NORTH CALIFORNIA, IN THE YEARS 1843-'44.


Washington City, March 1, 1845

To Colonel J.J. ABERT, _Chief of the Corps of Top. Engineers:_

SIR:--In pursuance of your instructions, to connect the reconnoisance
of 1842, which I had the honor to conduct, with the surveys of
Commander Wilkes on the coast of the Pacific ocean, so as to give a
connected survey of the interior of our continent, I proceeded to the
Great West early in the spring of 1843, and arrived, on the 17th of
May, at the little town of Kansas, on the Missouri frontier, near the
junction of the Kansas river with the Missouri river, where I was
detained near two weeks in completing the necessary preparations for
the extended explorations which my instructions contemplated.

My party consisted principally of Creole and Canadian French, and
Americans, amounting in all to thirty-nine men; among whom you will
recognise several of those who were with me in my first expedition, and
who have been favorably brought to your notice in a former report. Mr.
Thomas Fitzpatrick, whom many years of hardship and exposure, in the
western territories, had rendered familiar with a portion of the
country it was designed to explore, had been selected as our guide; and
Mr. Charles Preuss, who had been my assistant in a previous journey,
was again associated with me in the same capacity on the present
expedition. Agreeably to your directions, Mr. Theodore Talbot, of
Washington city, had been attached to the party, with a view to
advancement in his profession; and at St. Louis had been joined by Mr.
Frederick Dwight, a gentleman of Springfield, Massachusetts, who
availed himself of our overland journey to visit the Sandwich Islands
and China, by way of Fort Vancouver.

The men engaged for the service were: Alexis Ayot, Francis Badeau,
Oliver Beaulieu, Baptiste Bernier, John A. Campbell, John G. Campbell,
Manuel Chapman, Ransom Clark, Philibert Courteau, Michel Crelis,
William Creuss, Clinton Deforest, Baptiste Derosier, Basil Lajeunesse,
François Lajeunesse, Henry Lee, Louis Menard, Louis Montreuil, Samuel
Neal, Alexis Pera, François Pera, James Power, Raphael Proue, Oscar
Sarpy, Baptiste Tabeau, Charles Taplin, Baptiste Tesson, Auguste
Vasquez, Joseph Verrot, Patrick White, Tiery Wright, Louis Zindel, and
Jacob Dodson, a free young colored man of Washington city, who
volunteered to accompany the expedition, and performed his duty
manfully throughout the voyage. Two Delaware Indians--a fine-looking
old man and his son--were engaged to accompany the expedition as
hunters, through the kindness of Major Cummins, the excellent Indian
agent. L. Maxwell, who had accompanied the expedition as one of the
hunters in 1842, being on his way to Taos, in New Mexico, also joined
us at this place.

The party was generally armed with Hall's carbines, which with a brass
twelve-pound howitzer, had been furnished to me from the United States
arsenal at St. Louis, agreeably to the orders of Colonel S.W. Kearney,
commanding the third military division. Three men were especially
detailed for the management of this piece, under the charge of Louis
Zindel, a native of Germany, who had been nineteen years a
non-commissioned officer of artillery in the Prussian army, and
regularly instructed in the duties of his profession. The camp equipage
and provisions were transported in twelve carts, drawn each by two
mules; and a light covered wagon, mounted on good springs, had been
provided for the safer carriage of instruments. These were:

One refracting telescope, by Frauenhofer. One reflecting circle, by
Gambey. Two sextants, by Troughton. One pocket chronometer, No. 837, by
Goffe, Falmouth. One pocket chronometer, No. 739, by Brockbank. One
syphon barometer, by Bunten, Paris. One cistern barometer, by Frye and
Shaw, New York. Six thermometers, and a number of small compasses.

To make the exploration as useful as possible, I determined, in
conformity to your general instructions, to vary the route to the Rocky
mountains from that followed in 1842. The route was then up the valley
of the Great Platte river to the South Pass, in north latitude 42°; the
route now determined on was up the valley of the Kansas river, and to
the head of the Arkansas river, and to some pass in the mountains, if
any could be found, at the sources of that river.

By making this deviation from the former route, the problem of a new
road to Oregon and California, in a climate more genial, might be
solved; and a better knowledge obtained of an important river, and the
country it drained, while the great object of the expedition would find
its point of commencement at the termination of the former, which was
at that great gate in the ridge of the Rocky mountains called the South
Pass, and on the lofty peak of the mountain which overlooks it, deemed
the highest peak in the ridge, and from the opposite side of which four
great rivers take their rise, and flow to the Pacific or the
Mississippi.

Various obstacles delayed our departure until the morning of the 29th,
when we commenced our long voyage; and at the close of a day, rendered
disagreeably cold by incessant rain, encamped about four miles beyond
the frontier, on the verge of the great prairies.

Resuming our journey on the 31st, after the delay of a day to complete
our equipment and furnish ourselves with some of the comforts of
civilized life, we encamped in the evening at Elm Grove, in company
with several emigrant wagons, constituting a party which was proceeding
to Upper California, under the direction of Mr. J.B. Childs, of
Missouri. The wagons were variously freighted with goods, furniture,
and farming utensils, containing among other things an entire set of
machinery for a mill which Mr. Childs designed erecting on the waters
of the Sacramento river, emptying into the bay of San Francisco.

We were joined here by Mr. Wm. Gilpin of Mo., who, intending this year
to visit the settlements in Oregon, had been invited to accompany us,
and proved a useful and agreeable addition to the party.


JUNE.


From Elm Grove, our route until the third of June was nearly the same
as that described to you in 1842. Trains of wagons were almost
constantly in sight; giving to the road a populous and animated
appearance, although the greater portion of the emigrants were
collected at the crossing, or already on their march beyond the Kansas
river. Leaving at the ford the usual emigrant road to the mountains, we
continued our route along the southern side of the Kansas, where we
found the country much more broken than on the northern side of the
river, and where our progress was much delayed by the numerous small
streams, which obliged us to make frequent bridges. On the morning of
the 4th we crossed a handsome stream, called by the Indians Otter
creek, about 130 feet wide, where a flat stratum of limestone, which
forms the bed, made an excellent ford. We met here a small party of
Kansas and Delaware Indians, the latter returning from a hunting and
trapping expedition on the upper waters of the river; and on the
heights above were five or six Kansas women, engaged in digging prairie
potatoes, (_psoralea esculenta_.) On the afternoon of the 6th, whilst
busily engaged in crossing a wooded stream, we were thrown into a
little confusion by the sudden arrival of Maxwell, who entered the camp
at full speed at the head of a war party of Osage Indians, with gay red
blankets, and heads shaved to the scalp lock. They had run him a
distance of about nine miles, from a creek on which we had encamped the
day previous, and to which he had returned in search of a runaway horse
belonging to Mr. Dwight, which had taken the homeward road, carrying
with him saddle, bridle, and holster-pistols. The Osages were probably
ignorant of our strength, and, when they charged into the camp, drove
off a number of our best horses; but we were fortunately well mounted,
and, after a hard chase of seven or eight miles, succeeded in
recovering them all. This accident, which occasioned delay and trouble,
and threatened danger and loss, and broke down some good horses at the
start, and actually endangered the expedition, was a first fruit of
having gentlemen in company--very estimable, to be sure, but who are
not trained to the care and vigilance and self-dependence which such an
expedition required, and who are not subject to the orders which
enforce attention and exertion. We arrived on the 8th at the mouth of
the Smoky-hill fork, which is the principal southern branch of the
Kansas; forming here, by its junction with the Republican, or northern
branch, the main Kansas river. Neither stream was fordable, and the
necessity of making a raft, together with bad weather, detained us here
until the morning of the 11th; when we resumed our journey along the
Republican fork. By our observations, the junction of the streams is in
lat. 39° 30' 38", long. 96° 24' 36", and at an elevation of 926 feet
above the Gulf of Mexico. For several days we continued to travel along
the Republican, through a country beautifully watered with numerous
streams, and handsomely timbered; and rarely an incident occurred to
vary the monotonous resemblance which one day on the prairies here
bears to another, and which scarcely require a particular description.
Now and then, we caught a glimpse of a small herd of elk; and
occasionally a band of antelopes, whose curiosity sometimes brought
them within rifle range, would circle round us and then scour off into
the prairies. As we advanced on our road, these became more frequent;
but as we journeyed on the line usually followed by the trapping and
hunting parties of the Kansas and Delaware Indians, game of every kind
continued very shy and wild. The bottoms which form the immediate
valley of the main river were generally about three miles wide; having
a rich soil of black vegetable mould, and, for a prairie country, well
interspersed with wood. The country was everywhere covered with a
considerable variety of grasses, occasionally poor and thin, but far
more frequently luxuriant and rich. We had been gradually and regularly
ascending in our progress westward, and on the evening of the 14th,
when we encamped on a little creek in the valley of the Republican, 265
miles by our traveling road from the mouth of the Kansas, we were at an
elevation of 1,520 feet. That part of the river where we were now
encamped is called by the Indians the _Big Timber_. Hitherto our route
had been laborious and extremely slow, the unusually wet spring and
constant rain having so saturated the whole country that it was
necessary to bridge every water-course, and, for days together, our
usual march averaged only five or six miles. Finding that at such a
rate of travel it would be impossible to comply with your instructions,
I determined at this place to divide the party, and, leaving Mr.
Fitzpatrick with twenty-five men in charge of the provisions and
heavier baggage of the camp, to proceed myself in advance, with a light
party of fifteen men, taking with me the howitzer and the light wagon
which carried the instruments.

Accordingly, on the morning of the 16th, the parties separated; and,
bearing a little out from the river, with a view of heading some of the
numerous affluents, after a few hours' travel over somewhat broken
ground, we entered upon an extensive and high level prairie, on which
we encamped towards evening at a little stream, where a single dry
cottonwood afforded the necessary fuel for preparing supper. Among a
variety of grasses which to-day made their first appearance, I noticed
bunch-grass, (_festuca_,) and buffalo-grass, (_sesleria dactlyloides_.)
Amorpha canescens (_lead plant_) continued the characteristic plant of
the country, and a narrow-leaved _lathyrus_ occurred during the
morning, in beautiful patches. _Sida coccinea_ occurred frequently,
with a _psoralea_ near _psoralea floribunda_, and a number of plants
not hitherto met, just verging into bloom. The water on which we had
encamped belonged to Solomon's fort of the Smoky-hill river, along
whose tributaries we continued to travel for several days.

The country afforded us an excellent road, the route being generally
over high and very level prairies; and we met with no other delay than
being frequently obliged to bridge one of the numerous streams, which
were well timbered with ash, elm, cottonwood, and a very large oak--the
latter being occasionally five and six feet in diameter, with a
spreading summit. _Sida coccinea_ is very frequent in vermilion-colored
patches on the high and low prairie; and I remarked that it has a very
pleasant perfume.

The wild sensitive plant (_schrankia angustata_) occurs frequently,
generally on the dry prairies, in valleys of streams, and frequently on
the broken prairie bank. I remark that the leaflets close instantly to
a very light touch. _Amorpha_, with the same _psoralea_, and a dwarf
species of _lupinus_, are the characteristic plants.

On the 19th, in the afternoon, we crossed the Pawnee road to the
Arkansas, and traveling a few miles onward, the monotony of the
prairies was suddenly dispelled by the appearance of five or six
buffalo bulls, forming a vanguard of immense herds, among which we were
traveling a few days afterwards. Prairie dogs were seen for the first
time during the day; and we had the good fortune to obtain an antelope
for supper. Our elevation had now increased to 1,900 feet. _Sida
coccinea_ was the characteristic on the creek bottoms, and buffalo
grass is becoming abundant on the higher parts of the ridges.

21st.--During the forenoon we traveled up a branch of the creek on
which we had encamped, in a broken country, where, however, the
dividing ridges always afforded a good road. Plants were few; and with
the short sward of the buffalo-grass, which now prevailed everywhere,
giving to the prairies a smooth and mossy appearance, were mingled
frequent patches of a beautiful red grass, (_aristida pallens_,) which
had made its appearance only within the last few days.

We halted to noon at a solitary cottonwood in a hollow, near which was
killed the first buffalo, a large old bull.

Antelope appeared in bands during the day. Crossing here to the
affluents of the Republican, we encamped on a fork, about forty feet
wide and one foot deep, flowing with a swift current over a sandy bed,
and well wooded with ash-leaved maple, (_negundo fraxinifolium_,) elm,
cottonwood, and a few white oaks. We were visited in the evening by a
very violent storm, accompanied by wind, lightning, and thunder; a cold
rain falling in torrents. According to the barometer, our elevation was
2,130 feet above the gulf.

At noon, on the 23d, we descended into the valley of a principal fork
of the Republican, a beautiful stream with a dense border of wood,
consisting principally of varieties of ash, forty feet wide and four
deep. It was musical with the notes of many birds, which, from the vast
expanse of silent prairie around, seemed all to have collected here. We
continued during the afternoon our route along the river, which was
populous with prairie dogs, (the bottoms being entirely occupied with
their villages,) and late in the evening encamped on its banks. The
prevailing timber is a blue-foliaged ash, (_fraxinus_, near _F.
Americana_,) and ash-leaved maple. With these were _fraxinus
Americana_, cottonwood, and long-leaved willow. We gave to this stream
the name of Prairie Dog river. Elevation 2,350 feet. Our road on the
25th lay over high smooth ridges, 3,100 feet above the sea; buffalo in
great numbers, absolutely covering the face of the country. At evening
we encamped within a few miles of the main Republican, on a little
creek, where the air was fragrant with the perfume of _artemisia
filifolia_, which we here saw for the first time, and which was now in
bloom. Shortly after leaving our encampment on the 26th, we found
suddenly that the nature of the country had entirely changed. Bare
sand-hills everywhere surrounded us in the undulating ground along
which we were moving, and the plants peculiar to a sandy soil made
their appearance in abundance. A few miles further we entered the
valley of a large stream, afterwards known to be the Republican fork of
the Kansas, whose shallow waters, with a depth of only a few inches,
were spread out over a bed of yellowish white sand 600 yards wide. With
the exception of one or two distant and detached groves, no timber of
any kind was to be seen; and the features of the country assumed a
desert character, with which the broad river, struggling for existence
among the quicksands along the treeless banks, was strikingly in
keeping. On the opposite side, the broken ridges assumed almost a
mountainous appearance; and fording the stream, we continued on our
course among these ridges, and encamped late in the evening at a little
pond of very bad water, from which we drove away a herd of buffalo that
were standing in and about it. Our encampment this evening was 3,500
feet above the sea. We traveled now for several days through a broken
and dry sandy region, about 4,000 feet above the sea, where there were
no running streams; and some anxiety was constantly felt on account of
the uncertainty of water, which was only to be found in small lakes
that occurred occasionally among the hills. The discovery of these
always brought pleasure to the camp, as around them were generally
green flats, which afforded abundant pasturage for our animals; and
here we usually collected herds of the buffalo, which now were
scattered over all the country in countless numbers.

The soil of bare and hot sands supported a varied and exuberant growth
of plants, which were much farther advanced than we had previously
found them, and whose showy bloom somewhat relieved the appearance of
general sterility. Crossing the summit of an elevated and continuous
range of rolling hills, on the afternoon of the 30th of June, we found
ourselves overlooking a broad and misty valley, where, about ten miles
distant, and 1,000 feet below us, the South fork of the Platte was
rolling magnificently along, swollen with the waters of the melting
snows. It was in strong and refreshing contrast with the parched
country from which we had just issued; and when, at night, the broad
expanse of water grew indistinct, it almost seemed that we had pitched
our tents on the shore of the sea.



JULY.


Traveling along up the valley of the river, here 4,000 feet above the
sea, in the afternoon of July 1, we caught a far and uncertain view of
a faint blue mass in the west, as the sun sank behind it; and from our
camp in the morning, at the mouth of Bijou, Long's peak and the
neighboring mountains stood out into the sky, grand and luminously
white, covered to their bases with glittering snow.

On the evening of the 3d, as we were journeying along the partially
overflowed bottoms of the Platte, where our passage stirred up swarms
of musquitoes, we came unexpectedly on an Indian, who was perched upon
a bluff, curiously watching the movements of our caravan. He belonged
to a village of Oglallah Sioux, who had lost all their animals in the
severity of the preceding winter, and were now on their way up the
Bijou fork to beg horses from the Arapahoes, who were hunting buffalo
at the head of that river. Several came into our camp at noon; and, as
they were hungry, as usual, they were provided with buffalo-meat, of
which the hunters had brought in an abundant supply.

About noon, on the 4th of July, we arrived at the fort, where Mr. St.
Vrain received us with his customary kindness, and invited us to join
him in a feast which had been prepared in honor of the day.

Our animals were very much worn out, and our stock of provisions
entirely exhausted, when we arrived at the fort; but I was disappointed
in my hope of obtaining relief, as I found it in a very impoverished
condition; and we were able to procure only a little unbolted Mexican
flour, and some salt, with a few pounds of powder and lead.

As regarded provisions, it did not much matter in a country where
rarely the day passed without seeing some kind of game, and where it
was frequently abundant. It was a rare thing to lie down hungry, and we
had already learned to think bread a luxury; but we could not proceed
without animals, and our own were not capable of prosecuting the
journey beyond the mountains without relief.

I had been informed that a large number of mules had recently arrived
at Taos, from Upper California; and as our friend, Mr. Maxwell, was
about to continue his journey to that place, where a portion of his
family resided, I engaged him to purchase for me ten or twelve mules,
with the understanding that he should pack them with provisions and
other necessaries, and meet me at the mouth of the
_Fontaine-qui-bouit_, on the Arkansas river, to which point I would be
led in the course of the survey.

Agreeably to his own request, and in the conviction that his habits of
life and education had not qualified him to endure the hard life of a
voyageur, I discharged here one of my party, Mr. Oscar Sarpy, having
furnished him with arms and means of transportation to Fort Laramie,
where he would be in the line of caravans returning to the States.

At daybreak, on the 6th of July, Maxwell was on his way to Taos; and a
few hours after we also had recommenced our journey up the Platte,
which was continuously timbered with cottonwood and willow, on a
generally sandy soil. Passing on the way the remains of two abandoned
forts, (one of which, however, was still in good condition,) we
reached, in ten miles, Fort Lancaster, the trading establishment of Mr.
Lupton.

His post was beginning to assume the appearance of a comfortable farm:
stock, hogs, and cattle, were ranging about on the prairie--there were
different kinds of poultry; and there was a wreck of a promising
garden, in which a considerable variety of vegetables had been in a
flourishing condition; but it had been almost entirely ruined by the
recent high waters. I remained to spend with him an agreeable hour, and
set off in a cold storm of rain, which was accompanied with violent
thunder and lightning. We encamped immediately on the river, sixteen
miles from St. Vrain's. Several Arapahoes, on their way to the village
which was encamped a few miles above us, passed by the camp in the
course of the afternoon. Night set in stormy and cold, with heavy and
continuous rain, which lasted until morning.

7th.--We made this morning an early start, continuing to travel up the
Platte; and in a few miles frequent bands of horses and mules,
scattered for several miles round about, indicated our approach to the
Arapaho village, which we found encamped in a beautiful bottom, and
consisting of about one hundred and sixty lodges. It appeared extremely
populous, with a great number of children--a circumstance which
indicated a regular supply of the means of subsistence. The chiefs, who
were gathered together at the farther end of the village, received us
(as probably strangers are always received to whom they desire to show
respect or regard) by throwing their arms around our necks and
embracing us.

It required some skill in horsemanship to keep the saddle during the
performance of this ceremony, as our American horses exhibited for them
the same fear they have for a bear, or any other wild animal. Having
very few goods with me, I was only able to make them a meager present,
accounting for the poverty of the gift by explaining that my goods had
been left with the wagons in charge of Mr. Fitzpatrick, who was well
known to them as the White Head, or the Broken Hand. I saw here, as I
had remarked in an Arapaho village the preceding year, near the lodges
of the chiefs; tall tripods of white poles supporting their spears and
shields, which showed it to be a regular custom.

Though disappointed in obtaining the presents which had been evidently
expected, they behaved very courteously; and, after a little
conversation, I left them, and, continuing on up the river, halted to
noon on the bluff, as the bottoms are almost inundated; continuing in
the afternoon our route along the mountains, which were dark, misty,
and shrouded--threatening a storm; the snow peaks sometimes glittering
through the clouds beyond the first ridge.

We surprised a grizzly bear sauntering along the river, which, raising
himself upon his hind legs, took a deliberate survey of us, that did
not appear very satisfactory to him, and he scrambled into the river
and swam to the opposite side. We halted for the night a little above
Cherry creek; the evening cloudy, with many musquitoes. Some
indifferent observations placed the camp in lat. 39° 43' 53", and
chronometric long. 105° 24' 34".

8th.--We continued to-day to travel up the Platte: the morning
pleasant, with a prospect of fairer weather. During the forenoon our
way lay over a more broken country, with a gravelly and sandy surface;
although the immediate bottom of the river was a good soil, of a dark
and sandy mould, resting upon a stratum of large pebbles, or rolled
stones, as at Laramie fork. On our right, and apparently very near, but
probably 8 or 10 miles distant, and two or three thousand feet above
us, ran the first range of the mountains, like a dark corniced line, in
clear contrast with the great snowy chain which, immediately beyond,
rose glittering five thousand feet above them. We caught this morning a
view of Pike's peak; but it appeared for a moment only, as clouds rose
early over the mountains, and shrouded them in mist and rain all the
day. In the first range were visible, as at the Red Buttes on the North
fork, very lofty escarpments of red rock. While traveling through this
region, I remarked that always in the morning the lofty peaks were
visible and bright, but very soon small white clouds began to settle
around them--brewing thicker and thicker as the day advanced, until the
afternoon, when the thunder began to roll; and invariably at evening we
had more or less of a thunder storm. At 11 o'clock, and 21 miles from
St. Vrain's fort, we reached a point in this southern fork of the
Platte, where the stream is divided into three forks; two of these (one
of them being much the largest) issuing directly from the mountains on
the west, and forming, with the eastern-most branch, a river of the
plains. The elevation of this point is about 5,500 feet above the sea;
this river falling 2,800 feet in a distance of 316 miles, to its
junction with the North fork of the Platte. In this estimate, the
elevation of the junction is assumed as given by our barometrical
observations in 1842. On the easternmost branch, up which we took our
way, we first came among the pines growing on the top of a very high
bank, and where we halted on it to noon; quaking asp (_populus
tremuloides_) was mixed with the cottonwood, and there were excellent
grass and rushes for the animals.

During the morning there occurred many beautiful flowers, which we had
not hitherto met. Among them, the common blue flowering flax made its
first appearance; and a tall and handsome species of _gilia_, with
slender scarlet flowers, which appeared yesterday for the first time,
was very frequent to-day.

We had found very little game since leaving the fort, and provisions
began to get unpleasantly scant, as we had had no meat for several
days; but towards sundown, when we had already made up our minds to
sleep another night without supper, Lajeunesse had the good fortune to
kill a fine deer, which he found feeding in a hollow near by; and as
the rain began to fall, threatening an unpleasant night, we hurried to
secure a comfortable camp in the timber.

To-night the camp fires, girdled with _appolas_ of fine venison, looked
cheerful in spite of the stormy weather.

9th.--On account of the low state of our provisions and the scarcity of
game, I determined to vary our route, and proceed several camps to the
eastward, in the hope of falling in with the buffalo. This route along
the dividing grounds between the South fork of the Platte and the
Arkansas, would also afford some additional geographical information.
This morning, therefore, we turned to the eastward, along the upper
waters of the stream on which we had encamped, entering a country of
picturesque and varied scenery; broken into rocky hills of singular
shapes; little valleys, with pure crystal water, here leaping swiftly
along, and there losing itself in the sands; green spots of luxuriant
grass, flowers of all colors, and timber of different kinds--every
thing to give it a varied beauty, except game. To one of these
remarkably shaped hills, having on the summit a circular flat rock two
or three hundred yards in circumference, some one gave the name of
Poundcake, which it has been permitted to retain, as our hungry people
seemed to think it a very agreeable comparison. In the afternoon a
buffalo bull was killed, and we encamped on a small stream, near the
road which runs from St. Vrain's fort to the Arkansas.

10th:--Snow fell heavily on the mountains during the night, and Pike's
peak this morning is luminous and grand, covered from the summit, as
low down as we can see, with glittering white. Leaving the encampment
at 6 o'clock, we continued our easterly course over a rolling country,
near to the high ridges, which are generally rough and rocky, with a
coarse conglomerate displayed in masses, and covered with pines. The
rock is very friable, and it is undoubtedly from its decomposition that
the prairies derive their sandy and gravelly formation. In six miles we
crossed a head-water of the Kioway river, on which we found a strong
fort and _coral_ that had been built in the spring, and halted to noon
on the principal branch of the river. During the morning our route led
over a dark and vegetable mould, mixed with sand and gravel, the
characteristic plant being _esparcette_, (_onobrychis sativa_,) a
species of clover which is much used in certain parts of Germany for
pasturage of stock--principally hogs. It is sown on rocky waste ground,
which would otherwise be useless, and grows very luxuriantly, requiring
only a renewal of the seed about once in fifteen years. Its abundance
here greatly adds to the pastoral value of this region. A species of
antennaria in flower was very common along the line of road, and the
creeks were timbered with willow and pine. We encamped on Bijou's fork,
the water of which, unlike the clear streams we had previously crossed,
is of a whitish color, and the soil of the bottom a very hard, tough
clay. There was a prairie dog village on the bottom, and, in the
endeavor to unearth one of the little animals, we labored ineffectually
in the tough clay until dark. After descending, with a slight
inclination, until it had gone the depth of two feet, the hole suddenly
turned at a sharp angle in another direction for one more foot in
depth, when it again turned, taking an ascending direction to the next
nearest hole. I have no doubt that all their little habitations
communicate with each other. The greater part of the people were sick
to-day, and I was inclined to attribute their indisposition to the meat
of the bull which had been killed the previous day.

11th.--There were no indications of buffalo having been recently in the
neighborhood; and, unwilling to travel farther eastward, I turned this
morning to the southward, up the valley of Bijou. _Esparcette_ occurred
universally, and among the plants on the river I noticed, for the first
time during this journey, a few small bushes of the _absinthe_ of the
voyageurs, which is commonly used for firewood, (_artemesia
tridentata_.) Yesterday and to-day the road has been ornamented with
the showy bloom of a beautiful lupinus, a characteristic in many parts
of the mountain region, on which were generally great numbers of an
insect with very bright colors, (_litta vesicatoria_.)

As we were riding quietly along, eagerly searching every hollow in
search of game, we discovered, at a little distance in the prairie, a
large grizzly bear, so busily engaged in digging roots that he did not
perceive us until we were galloping down a little hill fifty yards from
him, when he charged upon us with such sudden energy that several of us
came near losing our saddles. Being wounded, he commenced retreating to
a rocky piny ridge near by, from which we were not able to cut him off,
and we entered the timber with him. The way was very much blocked up
with fallen timber; and we kept up a running fight for some time,
animated by the bear charging among the horses. He did not fall until
after he had received six rifle balls. He was miserably poor, and added
nothing to our stock of provisions.

We followed the stream to its head in a broken ridge, which, according
to the barometer, was about 7,500 feet above the sea. This is a piny
elevation, into which the prairies are gathered, and from which the
waters flow, in almost every direction, to the Arkansas, Platte, and
Kansas rivers; the latter stream having here its remotest sources.
Although somewhat rocky and broken, and covered with pines, in
comparison with the neighboring mountains, it scarcely forms an
interruption to the great prairie plains which sweep up to their bases.

We had an excellent view of Pike's peak from this camp, at the distance
of forty miles. This mountain barrier presents itself to travelers on
the plains, which sweep almost directly to its bases--an immense and
comparatively smooth and grassy prairie, in very strong contrast with
the black masses of timber, and the glittering snow above them. With
occasional exceptions, comparatively so very small as not to require
mention, these prairies are everywhere covered with a close and
vigorous growth of a great variety of grasses, among which the most
abundant is the buffalo grass, (_sesleria dactyloides_.) Between the
Platte and Arkansas rivers, that part of this region which forms the
basin drained by the waters of the Kansas, with which our operations
made us more particularly acquainted, is based upon a formation of
calcareous rocks. The soil of all this country is excellent, admirably
adapted to agricultural purposes, and would support a large
agricultural and pastoral population. A glance at the map, along our
several lines of travel, will show you that this plain is watered by
many streams. Throughout the western half of the plain, these are
shallow, with sandy beds, becoming deeper as they reach the richer
lands approaching the Missouri river; they generally have bottom lands,
bordered by bluffs varying from fifty to five hundred feet in height.
In all this region the timber is entirely confined to the streams. In
the eastern half, where the soil is a deep, rich, vegetable mould,
retentive of rain and moisture, it is of vigorous growth, and of many
different kinds; and throughout the western half it consists entirely
of various species of cottonwood, which deserves to be called the tree
of the desert--growing in sandy soils, where no other tree will
grow--pointing out the existence of water, and furnishing to the
traveler fuel, and food for his animals. Add to this that the western
border of the plain is occupied by the Sioux, Arapaho, and Cheyenne
nations, with the Pawnees and other half-civilized tribes in its
eastern limits, for whom the intermediate country is a war-ground, and
you will have a tolerably correct idea of the appearance and condition
of the country. Descending a somewhat precipitous and rocky hillside
among the pines, which rarely appear elsewhere than on the ridge, we
encamped at its foot, where there were several springs, which you will
find laid down upon the map as one of the extreme sources of the Smoky
Hill fork of the Kansas. From this place the view extended over the
Arkansas valley, and the Spanish peaks in the south beyond. As the
greater part of the men continued sick, I encamped here for the day,
and ascertained conclusively, from experiments on myself, that their
illness was caused by the meat of the buffalo bull.

On the summit of the ridge, near the camp, were several rock-built
forts, which in front were very difficult of approach, and in the rear
were protected by a precipice entirely beyond the reach of a
rifle-ball. The evening was tolerably clear, with a temperature at
sunset of 63°. Elevation of the camp seven thousand and three hundred
feet.

Turning the next day to the southwest, we reached, in the course of the
morning, the wagon-road to the settlements on the Arkansas river, and
encamped in the afternoon on the _Fontaine-qui-bouit_ (or Boiling
Spring) river, where it was fifty feet wide, with a swift current. I
afterwards found that the spring and river owe their names to the
bubbling of the effervescing gas in the former, and not to the
temperature of the water, which is cold. During the morning a tall
species of _gilia_, with a slender white flower, was characteristic;
and, in the latter part of the day, another variety of _esparcette_,
(wild clover,) having the flower white, was equally so. We had a fine
sunset of golden brown; and in the evening, a very bright moon, with
the near mountains, made a beautiful scene. Thermometer, at sunset, was
69°, and our elevation above the sea 5,800 feet.

13th.--The morning was clear, with a northwesterly breeze, and the
thermometer at sunrise at 46°. There were no clouds along the
mountains, and the morning sun showed very clearly their rugged
character.

We resumed our journey very early down the river, following an
extremely good lodge-trail, which issues by the head of this stream
from the bayou Salade, a high mountain valley behind Pike's peak. The
soil along the road was sandy and gravelly, and the river well
timbered. We halted to noon under the shade of some fine large
cottonwoods, our animals luxuriating on rushes, (_equisetum hyemale_,)
which, along this river, were remarkably abundant. A variety of cactus
made its appearance, and among several strange plants were numerous and
beautiful clusters of a plant resembling _mirabilis jalapa_, with a
handsome convolvulus I had not hitherto seen, (_calystegia_.) In the
afternoon we passed near the encampment of a hunter named Maurice, who
had been out into the plains in pursuit of buffalo calves, a number of
which I saw among some domestic cattle near his lodge. Shortly
afterwards, a party of mountaineers galloped up to us--fine-looking and
hardy men, dressed in skins, and mounted on good fat horses; among them
were several Connecticut men, a portion of Wyeth's party, whom I had
seen the year before, and others were men from the western states.

Continuing down the river, we encamped at noon on the 14th, at its
mouth, on the Arkansas river. A short distance above our encampment, on
the left bank of the Arkansas, is a _pueblo_, (as the Mexicans call
their civilized Indian villages,) where a number of mountaineers, who
had married Spanish women in the valley of Taos, had collected together
and occupied themselves in farming, carrying on at the same time a
desultory Indian trade. They were principally Americans, and treated us
with all the rude hospitality their situation admitted; but as all
commercial intercourse with New Mexico was now interrupted, in
consequence of Mexican decrees to that effect, there was nothing to be
had in the way of provisions. They had, however, a fine stock of
cattle, and furnished us an abundance of excellent milk. I learned here
that Maxwell, in company with two other men, had started for Taos on
the morning of the 9th, but that he would probably fall into the hands
of the Utah Indians, commonly called the _Spanish Yutes_. As Maxwell
had no knowledge of their being in the vicinity when he crossed the
Arkansas, his chance of escape was very doubtful; but I did not
entertain much apprehension for his life, having great confidence in
his prudence and courage. I was further informed that there had been a
popular tumult among the _pueblos_, or civilized Indians, residing near
Taos, against the "_foreigners_" of that place; in which they had
plundered their houses and ill-treated their families. Among those
whose property had been destroyed, was Mr. Beaubien, father-in-law of
Maxwell, from whom I had expected to obtain supplies, and who had been
obliged to make his escape to Santa Fé.

By this position of affairs, our expectation of obtaining supplies from
Taos was cut off. I had here the satisfaction to meet our good
buffalo-hunter of 1842, Christopher Carson, whose services I considered
myself fortunate to secure again; and as a reinforcement of mules was
absolutely necessary, I dispatched him immediately, with an account of
our necessities, to Mr. Charles Bent, whose principal post is on the
Arkansas river, about seventy-five miles below _Fontaine-qui-bouit_. He
was directed to proceed from that post by the nearest route across the
country, and meet me, with what animals he should be able to obtain, at
St. Vrain's fort. I also admitted into the party Charles Towns, a
native of St. Louis, a serviceable man, with many of the qualities of a
good voyageur. According to our observations, the latitude of the mouth
of the river is 38° 15' 23", its longitude 104° 58' 30", and its
elevation above the sea 4,880 feet.

On the morning of the 16th, the time for Maxwell's arrival having
expired, we resumed our journey, leaving for him a note, in which it
was stated that I would wait for him at St. Vrain's fort, until the
morning of the 26th, in the event that he should succeed in his
commission. Our direction was up the Boiling Spring river, it being my
intention to visit the celebrated springs from which the river takes
its name, and which are on its upper waters, at the foot of Pike's
peak. Our animals fared well while we were on this stream, there being
everywhere a great abundance of _prele_. _Ipomea leptophylla_ in bloom,
was a characteristic plant along the river, generally in large bunches,
with two to five flowers on each. Beautiful clusters of the plant
resembling _mirabilis jalapa_ were numerous, and _glycyrrhiza lepidota_
was a characteristic of the bottoms. Currants nearly ripe were
abundant, and among the shrubs which covered the bottom was a very
luxuriant growth of chenopodiaceous shrubs, four to six feet high. On
the afternoon of the 17th we entered among the broken ridges at the
foot of the mountains, where the river made several forks. Leaving the
camp to follow slowly, I rode ahead in the afternoon in search of the
springs. In the meantime, the clouds, which had been gathered all the
afternoon over the mountains, began to roll down their sides; and a
storm so violent burst upon me, that it appeared I had entered the
storehouse of the thunder-storms. I continued, however, to ride along
up the river until about sunset, and was beginning to be doubtful of
finding the springs before the next day, when I came suddenly upon a
large smooth rock, about twenty yards in diameter, where the water from
several springs was bubbling and boiling up in the midst of a white
incrustation, with which it had covered a portion of the rock. As this
did not correspond with the description given the by the hunters, I did
not stop to taste the water, but dismounting, walked a little way up
the river, and, passing through a narrow thicket of shrubbery bordering
the stream, stepped directly upon a huge white rock, at the foot of
which the river, already become a torrent, foamed along, broken by a
small fall. A deer which had been drinking at the spring was startled
by my approach, and, springing across the river, bounded off up the
mountain. In the upper part of the rock, which had apparently been
formed by deposition, was a beautiful white basin, overhung by currant
bushes, in which the cold clear water bubbled up, kept in constant
motion by the escaping gas, and overflowing the rock, which it had
almost entirely covered with a smooth crust of glistening white. I had
all day refrained from drinking, reserving myself for the spring; and
as I could not well be more wet than the rain had already made me, I
lay down by the side of the basin, and drank heartily of the delightful
water. The spring is situated immediately at the foot of lofty
mountains, beautifully timbered, which sweep closely round, shutting up
the little valley in a kind of cove. As it was beginning to grow dark,
I rode quickly down the river, on which I found the camp a few miles
below.

The morning of the 18th was beautiful and clear; and, all the people
being anxious to drink of these famous waters, we encamped immediately
at the springs, and spent there a very pleasant day. On the opposite
side of the river is another locality of springs, which are entirely of
same nature. The water has a very agreeable taste, which Mr. Preuss
found very much to resemble that of the famous Selter springs in the
grand duchy of Nassau, a country famous for wine and mineral waters;
and it is almost entirely of the same character, though still more
agreeable than that of the famous Bear springs, near Bear river of the
Great Salt lake. The following is an analysis of an incrustation with
which the water had covered a piece of wood lying on the rock:

Carbonate of lime, ----------92.25 Carbonate of magnesia, ------ 1.21

Sulphate of lime,------} Chloride of calcium,   }-----  .23 Chloride of
magnesia,--}

Silica, --------------------- 1.50 Vegetable matter, -----------  .20
Moisture and loss, ---------- 4.61
                            ______
                            100.00

At eleven o'clock, when the temperature of the air was 73°, that of the
water in this was 60.5°; and that of the upper spring, which issued
from the flat rock, more exposed to the sun, was 69°. At sunset, when
the temperature of the air was 66°, that of the lower springs was 58°,
and that of the upper 61°.

19th.--A beautiful and clear morning, with a slight breeze from the
northwest; the temperature of the air at sunrise being 57.5°. At this
time the temperature of the lower spring was 57.8°, springs was 58°,
and that of the upper 54.3°.

The trees in the neighborhood were birch, willow, pine, and an oak
resembling _quercus alba_. In the shrubbery along the river are currant
bushes, (_ribes_,) of which the fruit has a singular piny flavor; and
on the mountain side, in a red gravelly soil, is a remarkable
coniferous tree, (perhaps an _abies_,) having the leaves singularly
long, broad and scattered, with bushes of _spiraea ariaefolia_. By our
observations, this place is 6,350 feet above the sea, in latitude 38°
52' 10", and longitude 105° 22' 45".

Resuming our journey on this morning, we descended the river, in order
to reach the mouth of the eastern fork, which I proposed to ascend. The
left bank of the river here is very much broken. There is a handsome
little bottom on the right, and both banks are exceedingly
picturesque--strata of red rock, in nearly perpendicular walls,
crossing the valley from north to south. About three miles below the
springs, on the right bank of the river, is a nearly perpendicular
limestone rock, presenting a uniformly unbroken surface, twenty to
forty feet high, containing very great numbers of a large univalve
shell; which appears to belong to the genus _inoceramus_.

In contact with this, to the westward, was another, stratum of
limestone, containing fossil shells of a different character; and still
higher up on the stream were parallel strata, consisting of a compact
somewhat crystalline limestone, and argillaceous bituminous limestone
in thin layers. During the morning, we traveled up the eastern fork of
the _Fontaine-qui-bouit_ river, our road being roughened by frequent
deep gullies timbered with pine, and halted to noon on a small branch
of the stream, timbered principally with the narrow-leaved cottonwood,
(_populus angustifolia_,) called by the Canadians _liard amere_. On a
hill near by, were two remarkable columns of a grayish-white
conglomerate rock, one of which was about twenty feet high, and two
feet in diameter. They are surmounted by slabs of a dark ferruginous
conglomerate, forming black caps, and adding very much to their
columnar effect at a distance. This rock is very destructible by the
action of the weather, and the hill, of which they formerly constituted
a part, is entirely abraded.

A shaft of the gun-carriage was broken in the afternoon; and we made an
early halt, the stream being from twelve to twenty feet wide, with
clear water. As usual, the clouds had gathered to a storm over the
mountains, and we had a showery evening. At sunset, the thermometer
stood at 62°, and our elevation above the sea was. 6,530 feet.

20th.--This morning (as we generally found the mornings under these
mountains) was very clear and beautiful, and the air cool and pleasant,
with the thermometer at 44°. We continued our march up the stream,
along a green sloping bottom; between pine hills on the one hand; and
the main Black hills on the other; towards the ridge which separates
the waters of the Platte from those of the Arkansas. As we approached
the diving ridge, the whole valley was radiant with flowers; blue,
yellow, pink, white, scarlet; and purple, vie with each other in
splendor. Esparcette was one of the highly characteristic plants, and a
bright-looking flower (_gaillardia aristata_) was very frequent; but
the most abundant plant along our road today, was _geranium maculatum_,
which is the characteristic plant on this portion of the diving
grounds. Crossing to the waters of the Platte, fields of blue flax
added to the magnificence of this mountain garden; this was
occasionally four feet in height, which was a luxuriance of growth that
I rarely saw this almost universal plant attain throughout the journey.
Continuing down a branch of the Platte, among high and very steep
timbered hills, covered with fragments of sock, towards evening we
issued from the piny region, and made a late encampment near Poundcake
rock, on that fork of the river which we had ascended on the 8th of
July. Our animals enjoyed the abundant rushes this evening, as the
flies were so bad among the pines that they had been much harassed. A
deer was killed here this evening; and again the evening was overcast,
and a collection of brilliant red clouds in the west was followed by
the customary squall of rain.

_Achillea millefolium_ (milfoil) was among the characteristic plants of
the river bottoms to-day. This was one of the most common plants during
the whole of our journey, occurring in almost every variety of
situation. I noticed it on the lowlands of the rivers, near the coast
of the Pacific, and near to the snow among the mountains of the _Sierra
Nevada_.

During this excursion, we had surveyed to its head one of the two
principal branches of the upper Arkansas, 75 miles in length, and
entirely completed our survey of the South fork of the Platte, to the
extreme sources of that portion of the river which belongs to the
plains, and heads in the broken hills of the Arkansas dividing ridge,
at the foot of the mountains. That portion of its waters which were
collected among these mountains, it was hoped to explore on our
homeward voyage.

Reaching St. Vrain's fort on the morning of the 23d, we found Mr.
Fitzpatrick and his party in good order and excellent health, and my
true and reliable friend, Kit Carson, who had brought with him ten good
mules, with the necessary pack-saddles. Mr. Fitzpatrick, who had often
endured every extremity of want during the course of his mountain life,
and knew well the value of provisions in this country, had watched over
our stock with jealous vigilance, and there was an abundance of flour,
rice, sugar, and coffee, in the camp; and again we fared luxuriously.
Meat was, however, very scarce; and two very small pigs, which we
obtained at the fort, did not go far among forty men. Mr. Fitzpatrick
had been here a week, during which time his men had been occupied in
refitting the camp; and the repose had been very beneficial to his
animals, which were now in tolerably good condition.

I had been able to obtain no certain information in regard to the
character of the passes in this portion of the Rocky Mountain range,
which had always been represented as impracticable for carriages, but
the exploration of which was incidentally contemplated by my
instructions, with the view of finding some convenient point of passage
for the road of emigration, which would enable it to reach, on a more
direct line, the usual ford of the Great Colorado--a place considered
as determined by the nature of the country beyond that river. It is
singular, that immediately at the foot of the mountains, I could find
no one sufficiently acquainted with them to guide us to the plains at
their western base; but the race of trappers, who formerly lived in
their recesses, has almost entirely disappeared--dwindled to a few
scattered individuals--some one or two of whom are regularly killed in
the course of each year by the Indians. You will remember, that in the
previous year I brought with me to their village near this post, and
hospitably treated on the way, several Cheyenne Indians, whom I met on
the Lower Platte. Shortly after their arrival here, these were out with
a party of Indians, (themselves the principal men,) which discovered a
few trappers in the neighboring mountains, whom they immediately
murdered, although one of them had been nearly thirty years in the
country, and was perfectly well known, as he had grown gray among them.

Through this portion of the mountains, also, are the customary roads of
the war parties going out against the Utah and Shoshonee Indians; and
occasionally parties from the Crow nation make their way down to the
southward along this chain, in the expectation of surprising some
straggling lodges of their enemies. Shortly before our arrival, one of
their parties had attacked an Arapaho village in the vicinity, which
they had found unexpectedly strong; and their assault was turned into a
rapid flight and a hot pursuit, in which they had been compelled to
abandon the animals they had rode and escape on their war-horses.

Into this uncertain and dangerous region, small parties of three or
four trappers, who now could collect together, rarely ventured; and
consequently it was seldom visited and little known. Having determined
to try the passage by a pass through a spur of the mountains made by
the _Cache-à-la-Poudre_ river, which rises in the high bed of mountains
around Long's peak, I thought it advisable to avoid any encumbrance
which would occasion detention, and accordingly again separated the
party into two divisions--one of which, under the command of Mr.
Fitzpatrick, was directed to cross the plains to the mouth of Laramie
river, and, continuing thence its route along the usual emigrant road,
meet me at Fort Hall, a post belonging to the Hudson Bay Company, and
situated on Snake river, as it is commonly called in the Oregon
Territory, although better known to us as Lewis's fork of the Columbia.
The latter name is there restricted to one of the upper forks of the
river.

Our Delaware Indians having determined to return to their homes, it
became necessary to provide this party with a good hunter; and I
accordingly engaged in that capacity Alexander Godey, a young man about
25 years of age, who had been in this country six or seven years, all
of which time had been actively employed in hunting for the support of
the posts, or in solitary trading expeditions among the Indians. In
courage and professional skill he was a formidable rival to Carson, and
constantly afterwards was among the best and most efficient of the
party, and in difficult situations was of incalculable value. Hiram
Powers, one of the men belonging to Mr. Fitzpatrick's party, was
discharged at this place.

A French _engagé_, at Lupton's fort, had been shot in the back on the
4th of July, and died during our absence to the Arkansas. The wife of
the murdered man, an Indian woman of the Snake nation, desirous, like
Naomi of old, to return to her people, requested and obtained
permission to travel with my party to the neighborhood of Bear river,
where she expected to meet with some of their villages. Happier than
the Jewish widow, she carried with her two children, pretty little
half-breeds, who added much to the liveliness of the camp. Her baggage
was carried on five or six pack-horses; and I gave her a small tent,
for which I no longer had any use, as I had procured a lodge at the
fort.

For my own party I selected the following men, a number of whom old
associations had rendered agreeable to me:

Charles Preuss, Christopher Carson, Basil Lajeunesse, François Badeau,
J.B. Bernier, Louis Menard, Raphael Proue, Jacob Dodson, Louis Zindel,
Henry Lee, J.B. Derosier, François Lajeunesse, and Auguste Vasquez.

By observation, the latitude of the post is 40° 16' 33", and its
longitude 105° 12' 23", depending, with all the other longitudes along
this portion of the line, upon a subsequent occultation of September
13, 1843, to which they are referred by the chronometer. Its distance
from Kansas landing, by the road we traveled, (which, it will be
remembered, was very winding along the lower Kansas river,) was 750
miles. The rate of the chronometer, determined by observations at this
place for the interval of our absence, during this month, was 33.72";
which you will hereafter see did not sensibly change during the ensuing
month, and remained nearly constant during the remainder of our journey
across the continent. This was the rate used in referring to St.
Vrain's fort, the longitude between that place and the mouth of the
_Fontaine-qui-bouit_.

Our various barometrical observations, which are better worthy of
confidence than the isolated determination of 1842, give, for the
elevation of the fort above the sea, 4,930 feet. The barometer here
used was also a better one, and less liable to derangement.

At the end of two days, which was allowed to my animals for necessary
repose, all the arrangements had been completed, and on the afternoon
of the 26th we resumed our respective routes. Some little trouble was
experienced in crossing the Platte, the waters of which were still kept
up by rains and melting snow; and having traveled only about four
miles, we encamped in the evening on Thompson's creek, where we were
very much disturbed by musquitoes.

The following days we continued our march westward over comparative
plains, and, fording the Cache-à-la-Poudre on the morning of the 28th,
entered the Black hills, and nooned on this stream in the mountains
beyond them. Passing over a fine large bottom in the afternoon, we
reached a place where the river was shut up in the hills; and,
ascending a ravine, made a laborious and very difficult passage around
by a gap, striking the river again about dusk. A little labor, however,
would remove this difficulty, and render the road to this point a very
excellent one. The evening closed in dark with rain, and the mountains
looked gloomy.

29th.--Leaving our encampment about seven in the morning, we traveled
until three in the afternoon along the river, which, for the distance
of about six miles, runs directly through a spur of the main mountains.

We were compelled by the nature of the ground to cross the river eight
or nine times, at difficult, deep, and rocky fords, the stream running
with great force, swollen by the rains--a true mountain torrent, only
forty or fifty feet wide. It was a mountain valley of the narrowest
kind--almost a chasm--and the scenery very wild and beautiful. Towering
mountains rose round about; their sides sometimes dark with forests of
pine, and sometimes with lofty precipices, washed by the river; while
below, as if they indemnified themselves in luxuriance for the scanty
space, the green river-bottom was covered with a wilderness of flowers,
their tall spikes sometimes rising above our heads as we rode among
them. A profusion of blossoms on a white flowering vine, (_clematis
lasianthi_) which was abundant along the river, contrasted handsomely
with the green foliage of the trees. The mountains appeared to be
composed of a greenish-gray and red granite, which in some places
appeared to be in a state of decomposition, making a red soil.

The stream was wooded with cottonwood, box-elder, and cherry, with
currant and serviceberry bushes. After a somewhat laborious day, during
which it had rained incessantly, we encamped near the end of the pass
at the mouth of a small creek, in sight of the great Laramie plains. It
continued to rain heavily, and at evening the mountains were hid in
mists; but there was no lack of wood, and the large fires we made to
dry our clothes were very comfortable; and at night the hunters came in
with a fine deer. Rough and difficult as we found the pass to-day, an
excellent road may be made with a little labor. Elevation of the camp
5,540 feet, and distance from St. Vrain's fort 56 miles.

30th.--The day was bright again; the thermometer at sunrise 52°; and
leaving our encampment at eight o'clock, in about half a mile we
crossed the _Cache-à-la-Poudre_ river for the last time; and, entering
a smoother country, we traveled along a kind of _vallon_, bounded on
the right by red buttes and precipices; while to the left a high
rolling country extended to a range of the Black hills, beyond which
rose the great mountains around Long's peak.

By the great quantity of snow visible among them, it had probably
snowed heavily there the previous day, while it had rained on us in the
valley.

We halted at noon on a small branch; and in the afternoon traveled over
a high country, gradually ascending towards a range of _buttes_, or
high hills covered with pines, which forms the dividing ridge between
the waters we had left and those of Laramie river.

Late in the evening we encamped at a spring of cold water, near the
summit of the ridge, having increased our elevation to 7,520 feet.
During the day we had traveled 24 miles. By some indifferent
observations, our latitude is 41° 02' 19". A species of _hedeome_ was
characteristic along the whole day's route.

Emerging from the mountains, we entered a region of bright, fair
weather. In my experience in this country, I was forcibly impressed
with the different character of the climate on opposite sides of the
Rocky Mountain range. The vast prairie plain on the east is like the
ocean; the rain and clouds from the constantly evaporating snow of the
mountains rushing down into the heated air of the plains, on which you
will have occasion to remark the frequent storms of rain we encountered
during our journey.

31st.--The morning was clear; temperature 48°. A fine rolling road,
among piny and grassy hills, brought us this morning into a large trail
where an Indian village had recently passed. The weather was pleasant
and cool; we were disturbed by neither musquitoes nor flies; and the
country was certainly extremely beautiful. The slopes and broad ravines
were absolutely covered with fields of flowers of the most exquisitely
beautiful colors. Among those which had not hitherto made their
appearance, and which here were characteristic, was a new _delphinium_,
of a green and lustrous metallic blue color, mingled with compact
fields of several bright-colored varieties of _astragalus_, which were
crowded together in splendid profusion. This trail conducted us,
through a remarkable defile, to a little timbered creek, up which we
wound our way, passing by a singular and massive wall of dark-red
granite. The formation of the country is a red feldspathic granite,
overlaying a decomposing mass of the same rock, forming the soil of all
this region, which everywhere is red and gravelly, and appears to be of
a great floral fertility.

As we emerged on a small tributary of the Laramie river, coming in
sight of its principal stream, the flora became perfectly magnificent;
and we congratulated ourselves, as we rode along our pleasant road;
that we had substituted this for the uninteresting country between
Laramie hills and the Sweet Water valley. We had no meat for supper
last night or breakfast this morning, and were glad to see Carson come
in at noon with a good antelope.

A meridian observation of the sun placed us in latitude 41° 04' 06". In
the evening we encamped on the Laramie river, which is here very thinly
timbered with scattered groups of cottonwood at considerable intervals.
From our camp, we are able to distinguish the gorges, in which are the
sources of Cache-à-la-Poudre and Laramie rivers; and the Medicine Bow
mountain, towards the point of which we are directing our course this
afternoon, has been in sight the greater part of the day. By
observation the latitude was 41° 15' 02", and longitude 106° 16' 54".
The same beautiful flora continued till about four in the afternoon,
when it suddenly disappeared, with the red soil, which became sandy,
and of a whitish-gray color. The evening was tolerably clear;
temperature at sunset 64°. The day's journey was 30 miles.



AUGUST.


1st.--The morning was calm and clear, with sunrise temperature at 42°.
We traveled to-day over a plain, or open rolling country, at the foot
of the Medicine Bow mountain; the soil in the morning being sandy, with
fragments of rock abundant, and in the afternoon, when we approached
closer to the mountain, so stony that we made but little way. The
beautiful plants of yesterday reappeared occasionally; flax in bloom
occurred during the morning, and esparcette in luxuriant abundance was
a characteristic of the stony ground in the afternoon. The camp was
roused into a little excitement by a chase after a buffalo bull, and an
encounter with a war party of Sioux and Cheyenne Indians about 30
strong. Hares and antelope were seen during the day, and one of the
latter was killed. The Laramie peak was in sight this afternoon. The
evening was clear, with scattered clouds; temperature 62°. The day's
journey was 26 miles.

2d.--Temperature at sunrise 52°, and scenery and weather made our road
to-day delightful. The neighboring mountain is thickly studded with
pines, intermingled with the brighter foliage of aspens, and occasional
spots like lawns between the patches of snow among the pines, and here
and there on the heights. Our route below lay over a comparative plain,
covered with the same brilliant vegetation, and the day was clear and
pleasantly cool. During the morning, we crossed many streams, clear and
rocky, and broad grassy valleys, of a strong black soil, washed down
from the mountains, and producing excellent pasturage. These were
timbered with the red willow and long-leaved cottonwood, mingled with
aspen, as we approached the mountain more nearly towards noon.
_Esparcette_ was a characteristic, and flax occurred frequently in
bloom. We halted at noon on the most western fork of Laramie river--a
handsome stream about sixty feet wide and two feet deep, with clear
water and a swift current, over a bed composed entirely of boulders or
roll-stones. There was a large open bottom here, on which were many
lodge poles lying about: and in the edge of the surrounding timber were
three strong forts, that appeared to have been recently occupied. At
this place I became first acquainted with the _yampah_, (_anethum
graveolens_,) which I found our Snake woman engaged in digging in the
low timbered bottom of the creek. Among the Indians along the Rocky
Mountains, and more particularly among the Shoshonee or Snake Indians,
in whose territory it is very abundant, this is considered the best
among the roots used for food. To us it was an interesting plant--a
little link between the savage and civilized life. Here, among the
Indians, its root is a common article of food, which they take pleasure
in offering to strangers; while with us, in a considerable portion of
America and Europe, the seeds are used to flavor soup. It grows more
abundantly, and in greater luxuriance, on one of the neighboring
tributaries of the Colorado, than in any other part of this region; and
on that stream, to which the Snakes are accustomed to resort every year
to procure a supply of their favorite plant, they have bestowed the
name of _Yampah_ river. Among the trappers it is generally known as
Little Snake river; but in this and other instances, where it
illustrated the history of the people inhabiting the country, I have
preferred to retain on the map the aboriginal name. By a meridional
observation, the latitude is 41° 45' 59"

In the afternoon we took our way directly across the spurs from the
point of the mountain, where we had several ridges to cross; and,
although the road was not rendered bad by the nature of the ground, it
was made extremely rough by the stiff tough bushes of _artemisia
tridentata_, [Footnote: The greater portion of our subsequent journey
was through a region where this shrub constituted the tree of the
country; and, as it will often be mentioned in occasional descriptions,
the word _artemisia_ only will be used, without the specific name.] in
this country commonly called sage.

This shrub now began to make its appearance in compact fields; and we
were about to quit for a long time this country of excellent pasturage
and brilliant flowers. Ten or twelve buffalo bulls were seen during the
afternoon; and we were surprised by the appearance of a large red ox.
We gathered around him as if he had been an old acquaintance, with all
our domestic feelings as much awakened as if we had come in sight of an
old farm-house. He had probably made his escape from some party of
emigrants on Green river; and, with a vivid remembrance of some old
green field, be was pursuing the straightest course for the frontier
that the country admitted. We carried him along with us as a prize;
and, when it was found in the morning that he had wandered off, I would
not let him be pursued, for I would rather have gone through a starving
time of three entire days, than let him be killed after he had
successfully run the gauntlet so far among the Indians. I have been
told by Mr. Bent's people of an ox born and raised at St. Vrain's fort,
which made his escape from them at Elm grove, near the frontier, having
come in that year with the wagons. They were on their way out, and saw
occasionally places where he had eaten and laid down to rest; but did
not see him for about 700 miles, when they overtook him on the road,
traveling along to the fort, having unaccountably escaped Indians and
every other mischance.

We encamped at evening on the principal fork of Medicine Bow river,
near to an isolated mountain called the Medicine _Butte_, which
appeared to be about 1,800 feet above the plain, from which it rises
abruptly, and was still white, nearly to its base, with a great
quantity of snow. The streams were timbered with the long-leaved,
cottonwood and red willow; and during the afternoon a species of onion
was very abundant. I obtained here an immersion of the first satellite
of Jupiter, which, corresponding very nearly with the chronometer,
placed us in longitude 106° 47' 25". The latitude, by observation, was
41° 37' 16"; elevation above the sea, 7,800 feet, and distance from St.
Vrain's fort, 147 miles.

3d.--There was a white frost last night; the morning is clear and cool.
We were early on the road, having breakfasted before sunrise, and in a
few miles' travel entered the pass of the Medicine _Butte_, through
which led a broad trail, which had been recently traveled by a very
large party. Immediately in the pass, the road was broken by ravines,
and we were obliged to clear a way through groves of aspens, which
generally made their appearance when we reached elevated regions.
According to the barometer, this was 8,300 feet; and while we were
detained in opening a road, I obtained a meridional observation of the
sun, which gave 41° 35' 48" for the latitude of the pass. The Medicine
_Butte_ is isolated by a small tributary of the North fork of the
Platte, but the mountains approach each other very nearly; the stream
running at their feet. On the south they are smooth, with occasional
streaks of pine; but the butte itself is ragged, with escarpments of
red feldspathic granite, and dark with pines; the snow reaching from
the summit to within a few hundred feet of the trail. The granite here
was more compact and durable than that in the formation which we had
passed through a few days before to the eastward of Laramie. Continuing
our way over a plain on the west side of the pass, where the road was
terribly rough with artemisia, we made our evening encampment on the
creek, where it took a northern direction, unfavorably to the course we
were pursuing. Bands of buffalo were discovered as we came down upon
the plain; and Carson brought into the camp a cow which had the fat on
the fleece two inches thick. Even in this country of rich pasturage and
abundant game, it is rare that a hunter chances upon a finer animal.
Our voyage had already been long, but this was the first good buffalo
meat we had obtained. We traveled to-day 26 miles.

4th.--The morning was clear and calm; and, leaving the creek, we
traveled towards the North fork of the Platte, over a plain which was
rendered rough and broken by ravines. With the exception of some thin
grasses, the sandy soil here was occupied almost exclusively by
artemisia, with its usual turpentine odor. We had expected to meet with
some difficulty in crossing the river, but happened to strike it where
there was a very excellent ford, and halted to noon on the left bank,
two hundred miles from St. Vrain's fort. The hunters brought in
pack-animals loaded with fine meat. According to our imperfect
knowledge of the country, there should have been a small affluent to
this stream a few miles higher up; and in the afternoon we continued
our way among the river hills, in the expectation of encamping upon it
in the evening. The ground proved to be so exceedingly difficult,
broken up into hills, terminating in escarpments and broad ravines,
five hundred or six hundred feet deep, with sides so precipitous that
we could scarcely find a place to descend, that, towards sunset, I
turned directly in towards the river, and, after nightfall, entered a
sort of ravine. We were obliged to feel our way, and clear a road in
the darkness; the surface being much broken, and the progress of the
carriages being greatly obstructed by the artemisia, which had a
luxuriant growth of four to six feet in height. We had scrambled along
this gulley for several hours, during which we had knocked off the
carriage-lamps, broken a thermometer and several small articles, when,
fearing to lose something of more importance, I halted for the night at
ten o'clock. Our animals were turned down towards the river, that they
might pick up what little grass they could find; and after a little
search, some water was found in a small ravine, and improved by
digging. We lighted up the ravine with fires of artemisia, and about
midnight sat down to a supper which we were hungry enough to find
delightful--although the buffalo-meat was crusted with sand, and the
coffee was bitter with the wormwood taste of the artemisia leaves.

A successful day's hunt had kept our hunters occupied until late, and
they slept out, but rejoined us at daybreak, when, finding ourselves
only about a mile from the river, we followed the ravine down, and
camped in a cottonwood grove on a beautiful grassy bottom, where our
animals indemnified themselves for the scanty fare of the past night.
It was quite a pretty and pleasant place; a narrow strip of prairie,
about five hundred yards long, terminated at the ravine where we
entered by high precipitous hills closing in upon the river, and at the
upper end by a ridge of low rolling hills.

In the precipitous bluffs were displayed a succession of strata
containing fossil vegetable remains, and several beds of coal. In some
of the beds the coal did not appear to be perfectly mineralized, and in
some of the seams it was compact, and remarkably lustrous. In these
latter places, there were also thin layers of a very fine white salts,
in powder. As we had a large supply of meat in the camp, which it was
necessary to dry, and the surrounding country appeared to be well
stocked with buffalo, which it was probable, after a day or two, we
would not see again until our return to the Mississippi waters, I
determined to make here a provision of dried meat, which would be
necessary for our subsistence in the region we were about entering,
which was said to be nearly destitute of game. Scaffolds were
accordingly soon erected, fires made, and the meat cut into thin slices
to be dried; and all were busily occupied, when the camp was thrown
into a sudden tumult, by a charge from about seventy mounted Indians,
over the low hills at the upper end of the little bottom. Fortunately,
the guard, who was between them and our animals, had caught a glimpse
of an Indian's head, as he raised himself in his stirrups to look over
the hill, a moment before he made the charge, and succeeded in turning
the band into the camp, as the Indians charged into the bottom with the
usual yell. Before they reached us, the grove on the verge of the
little bottom was occupied by our people, and the Indians brought to a
sudden halt, which they made in time to save themselves from a howitzer
shot, which would undoubtedly have been very effective in such a
compact body; and further proceedings were interrupted by their signs
for peace. They proved to be a war party of Arapaho and Cheyenne
Indians, and informed us that they had charged upon the camp under the
belief that we were hostile Indians, and had discovered their mistake
only at the moment of the attack--an excuse which policy required us to
receive as true, though under the full conviction that the display of
our little howitzer, and our favorable position in the grove, certainly
saved our horses, and probably ourselves, from their marauding
intentions. They had been on a war party, and had been defeated, and
were consequently in the state of mind which aggravates their innate
thirst for plunder and blood. Their excuse, however, was taken in good
part, and the usual evidences of friendship interchanged. The pipe went
round, provisions were spread, and the tobacco and goods furnished the
customary presents, which they look for even from traders, and much
more from government authorities.

They were returning from an expedition against the Shoshonee Indians,
one of whose villages they had surprised, at Bridger's fort, on Ham's
fork of Green river, (in the absence of the men, who were engaged in an
antelope surround,) and succeeded in carrying off their horses, and
taking several scalps. News of the attack reached the Snakes
immediately, who pursued and overtook them, and recovered their horses;
and, in the running fight which ensued, the Arapahoes had lost several
men killed, and a number wounded, who were coming on more slowly with a
party in the rear. Nearly all the horses they had brought off were the
property of the whites at the fort. After remaining until nearly
sunset, they took their departure; and the excitement which their
arrival had afforded subsided into our usual quiet, a little enlivened
by the vigilance rendered necessary by the neighborhood of our
uncertain visiters. At noon the thermometer was at 75°, at sunset 70°,
and the evening clear. Elevation above the sea 6,820 feet; latitude 41°
36' 00"; longitude 107° 22' 27".

6th.--At sunrise the thermometer was 46°, the morning being clear and
calm. We traveled to-day over an extremely rugged country, barren and
uninteresting--nothing to be seen but artemisia bushes; and, in the
evening, found a grassy spot among the hills, kept green by several
springs, where we encamped late. Within a few hundred yards was a very
pretty little stream of clear cool water, whose green banks looked
refreshing among the dry, rocky hills. The hunters brought in a fat
mountain sheep, (_ovis montana_.)

Our road the next day was through a continued and dense field of
_artemisia_, which now entirely covered the country in such a luxuriant
growth that it was difficult and laborious for a man on foot to force
his way through, and nearly impracticable for our light carriages. The
region through which we were traveling was a high plateau, constituting
the dividing ridge between the waters of the Atlantic and Pacific
oceans, and extending to a considerable distance southward, from the
neighborhood of the Table rock, at the southern side of the South Pass.
Though broken up into rugged and rocky hills of a dry and barren
nature, it has nothing of a mountainous character; the small streams
which occasionally occur belonging neither to the Platte nor the
Colorado, but losing themselves either in the sand or in small lakes.
From an eminence, in the afternoon, a mountainous range became visible
in the north, in which were recognised some rocky peaks belonging to
the range of the Sweet Water valley; and, determining to abandon any
further attempt to struggle through this almost impracticable country,
we turned our course directly north, towards a pass in the valley of
the Sweet Water river. A shaft of the gun-carriage was broken during
the afternoon, causing a considerable delay; and it was late in an
unpleasant evening before we succeeded in finding a very poor
encampment, where there was a little water in a deep trench of a creek,
and some scanty grass among the shrubs. All the game here consisted of
a few straggling buffalo bulls, and during the day there had been but
very little grass, except in some green spots where it had collected
around springs or shallow lakes. Within fifty miles of the Sweet Water,
the country changed into a vast saline plain, in many places extremely
level, occasionally resembling the flat sandy beds of shallow lakes.
Here the vegetation consisted of a shrubby growth, among which were
several varieties of _chenopodiaceous_ plants; but the characteristic
shrub was _Fremontia vermicularis_, with smaller saline shrubs growing
with singular luxuriance, and in many places holding exclusive
possession of the ground.

On the evening of the 8th we encamped on one of these fresh-water
lakes, which the traveler considers himself fortunate to find; and the
next day, in latitude, by observation, 42° 20' 06", halted to noon
immediately at the foot of the southern side of the range which walls
in the Sweet Water valley, on the head of a small tributary to that
river.

Continuing in the afternoon our course down the stream, which here cuts
directly through the ridge, forming a very practicable pass, we entered
the valley; and, after a march of about nine miles, encamped on our
familiar river, endeared to us by the acquaintance of the previous
expedition--the night having already closed in with a cold rain-storm.
Our camp was about twenty miles above the Devil's gate, which we had
been able to see in coming down the plain; and, in the course of the
night, the clouds broke away around Jupiter for a short time; during
which we obtained an emersion of the first satellite, the result of
which agreed very nearly with the chronometer, giving for the mean
longitude 107° 50' 07"; elevation above the sea 6,040 feet; and
distance from St. Vrain's fort, by the road we had Just traveled, 315
miles.

Here passes the road to Oregon; and the broad smooth highway, where the
numerous heavy wagons of the emigrants had entirely beaten and crushed
the artemisia, was a happy exchange to our poor animals, for the sharp
rocks and tough shrubs among which they had been toiling so long; and
we moved up the valley rapidly and pleasantly. With very little
deviation from our route of the preceding year, we continued up the
valley; and on the evening of the 12th encamped on the Sweet Water, at
a point where the road turns off to cross to the plains of Green river.
The increased coolness of the weather indicated that we had attained a
greater elevation, which the barometer here placed at 7,220 feet; and
during the night water froze in the lodge.

The morning of the 13th was clear and cold, there being a white-frost,
and the thermometer, a little before sunrise, standing at 26.5°.
Leaving this encampment, (our last on the waters which flow towards the
rising sun,) we took our way along the upland, towards the dividing
ridge which separates the Atlantic from the Pacific waters, and crossed
it by a road some miles further south than the one we had followed on
our return in 1842. We crossed very near the Table mountain, at the
southern extremity of the South Pass, which is near twenty miles in
width, and already traversed by several different roads. Selecting, as
well as I could, in the scarcely distinguishable ascent, what might be
considered the dividing ridge in this remarkable depression in the
mountain, I took a barometrical observation, which gave 7,490 feet for
the elevation above the Gulf of Mexico. You will remember that, in my
report of 1842, I estimated the elevation of this pass at about 7,000
feet; a correct observation with a good barometer enables me to give it
with more precision. Its importance, as the great gate through which
commerce and traveling may hereafter pass between the valley of the
Mississippi and the North Pacific, justifies a precise notice of its
locality and distance from leading points, in addition to this
statement of its elevation. As stated in the report of 1842, its
latitude, at the point where we crossed, is 42° 24' 32"; its longitude
109° 26' 00"; its distance from the mouth of the Kansas, by the common
traveling route, 962 miles; from the mouth of the Great Platte, along
the valley of that river, according to our survey of 1842, 882 miles;
and its distance from St. Louis about 400 miles more by the Kansas, and
about 700 by the Great Platte route; these additions being steamboat
conveyance in both instances. From this pass to the mouth of the Oregon
is about 1,400 miles by the common traveling route; so that under a
general point of view, it may be assumed to be about half-way between
the Mississippi and the Pacific ocean, on the common traveling route.
Following a hollow of slight and easy descent, in which was very soon
formed a little tributary to the Gulf of California, (for the waters
which flow west from the South Pass go to this gulf,) we made our usual
halt four miles from the pass, in latitude, by observation, 42° 19'
53". Entering here the valley of Green river--the great Colorado of the
West--and inclining very much to the southward along the streams which
form the Sandy river, the road led for several days over dry and level
uninteresting plains; to which a low scrubby growth of artemisia gave a
uniform dull grayish color; and on the evening of the 15th we encamped
in the Mexican territory, on the left bank of Green river, 69 miles
from the South Pass, in longitude 110° 05' 05", and latitude 41° 53'
54", distant 1,031 miles from the mouth of the Kansas. This is the
emigrant road to Oregon, which bears much to the southward, to avoid
the mountains about the western heads of Green river--the _Rio Verde_
of the Spaniards.

16th.--Crossing the river, here about 400 feet wide, by a very good
ford, we continued to descend for seven or eight miles on a pleasant
road along the right bank of the stream, of which the islands and
shores are handsomely timbered with cottonwood. The refreshing
appearance of the broad river, with its timbered shores and green
wooded islands, in contrast to its dry and sandy plains, probably
obtained for it the name of Green river, which was bestowed on it by
the Spaniards who first came into this country to trade some 25 years
ago. It was then familiarly known as the Seeds-ke-dee-agie, or Prairie
Hen (_tetrao urophasianus_) river; a name which it received from the
Crows, to whom its upper waters belong, and on which this bird is still
very abundant. By the Shoshonee and Utah Indians, to whom belongs, for
a considerable distance below, the country where we were now traveling,
it was called the Bitter Root river, from a great abundance in its
valley of a plant which affords them one of their favorite roots. Lower
down, from Brown's hole to the southward, the river runs through lofty
chasms, walled in by precipices of _red_ rock; and even among the
wilder tribes which inhabit that portion of its course, I have heard it
called by Indian refugees from the California settlements the Rio
_Colorado_. We halted to noon at the upper end of a large bottom, near
some old houses, which had been a trading post, in lat. 41° 46' 54". At
this place the elevation of the river above the sea is 6,230 feet. That
of Lewis's fork of the Columbia at Fort Hall is, according to our
subsequent observations, 4,500 feet. The descent of each stream is
rapid, but that of the Colorado is but little known, and that little
derived from vague report. Three hundred miles of its lower part, as it
approaches the Gulf of California, is reported to be smooth and
tranquil; but its upper part is manifestly broken into many falls and
rapids. From many descriptions of trappers, it is probable that in its
foaming course among its lofty precipices it presents many scenes of
wild grandeur; and though offering many temptations, and often
discussed, no trappers have been found bold enough to undertake a
voyage which has so certain a prospect of a fatal termination. The
Indians have strange stories of beautiful valleys abounding with
beaver, shut up among inaccessible walls of rock in the lower course of
the river; and to which the neighboring Indians, in their occasional
wars with the Spaniards and among themselves, drive their herds of
cattle and flocks of sheep, leaving them to pasture in perfect security.

The road here leaves the river, which bends considerably to the east;
and in the afternoon we resumed our westerly course, passing over a
somewhat high and broken country; and about sunset, after a day's
travel of 26 miles, reached Black's fork of the Green river--a shallow
stream, with a somewhat sluggish current, about 120 feet wide, timbered
principally with willow, and here and there an occasional large tree.
At three in the morning I obtained an observation of an emersion of the
first satellite of Jupiter, with other observations. The heavy wagons
have so completely pulverized the soil, that clouds of fine light dust
are raised by the slightest wind, making the road sometimes very
disagreeable.

17th.--Leaving our encampment at six in the morning, we traveled along
the bottom, which is about two miles wide, bordered by low hills, in
which the strata contained handsome and very distinct vegetable
fossils. In a gully a short distance farther up the river, and
underlying these, was exposed a stratum of an impure or argillaceous
limestone. Crossing on the way Black's fork, where it is one foot deep
and forty wide, with clear water and a pebbly bed, in nine miles we
reached Ham's fork, a tributary to the former stream, having now about
sixty feet breadth, and a few inches depth of water. It is wooded with
thickets of red willow, and in the bottom is a tolerably strong growth
of grass. The road here makes a traverse of twelve miles across a bend
of the river. Passing in the way some remarkable hills, two or three
hundred feet high, with frequent and nearly vertical escarpments of a
green stone, consisting of an argillaceous carbonate of lime,
alternating with strata of an iron-brown limestone, and worked into
picturesque forms by wind and rain, at two in the afternoon we reached
the river again, having made to-day 21 miles. Since crossing the great
dividing ridge of the Rocky mountains, plants have been very few in
variety, the country being covered principally with artemisia.

18th.--We passed on the road, this morning, the grave of one of the
emigrants, being the second we had seen since falling into their trail;
and halted to noon on the river, a short distance above.

The Shoshonee woman took leave of us here, expecting to find some of
her relations at Bridger's fort, which is only a mile or two distant,
on a fork of this stream. In the evening we encamped on a salt creek,
about fifteen feet wide, having to-day traveled 32 miles.

I obtained an emersion of the first satellite under favorable
circumstances, the night being still and clear.

One of our mules died here, and in this portion of our journey we lost
six or seven of our animals. The grass which the country had lately
afforded was very poor and insufficient; and animals which have been
accustomed to grain become soon weak and unable to labor, when reduced
to no other nourishment than grass. The American horses (as those are
usually called which are brought to this country from the States) are
not of any serviceable value until after they have remained a winter in
the country, and become accustomed to live entirely on grass.

19th.--Desirous to avoid every delay not absolutely necessary, I sent
on Carson in advance to Fort Hall this morning, to make arrangements
for a small supply of provisions. A few miles from our encampment, the
road entered a high ridge, which the trappers called the "little
mountain," connecting the Utah with the Wind River chain; and in one of
the hills near which we passed I remarked strata of a conglomerate
formation, fragments of which were scattered over the surface. We
crossed a ridge of this conglomerate, the road passing near a grove of
low cedar, and descending upon one of the heads of Ham's fork, called
Muddy, where we made our mid-day halt. In the river hills at this
place, I discovered strata of fossiliferous rock, having an _oolitic
structure_, which, in connection with the neighboring strata, authorize
us to believe that here, on the west side of the Rocky mountains, we
find repeated the modern formations of Great Britain and Europe, which
have hitherto been wanting to complete the system of North American
geology.

In the afternoon we continued our road, and searching among the hills a
few miles up the stream, and on the same bank, I discovered, among the
alternate beds of coal and clay, a stratum of white indurated clay,
containing very clear and beautiful impressions of vegetable remains.
This was the most interesting fossil locality I had met in the country,
and I deeply regretted that time did not permit me to remain a day or
two in the vicinity; but I could not anticipate the delays to which I
might be exposed in the course of our journey--or, rather, I knew that
they were many and inevitable; and after remaining here only about an
hour, I hurried off, loaded with as many specimens as I could
conveniently carry.

Coal made its appearance occasionally in the hills during the
afternoon, and was displayed in rabbit burrows in a kind of gap,
through which we passed over some high hills, and we descended to make
our encampment on the same stream, where we found but very poor grass.
In the evening a fine cow, with her calf, which had strayed off from
some emigrant party, was found several miles from the road, and brought
into camp; and as she gave an abundance of milk, we enjoyed to-night an
excellent cup of coffee. We traveled to-day 28 miles, and, as has been
usual since crossing the Green river, the road has been very dusty, and
the weather smoky and oppressively hot. Artemisia was characteristic
among the few plants.

20th.--We continued to travel up the creek by a very gradual ascent and
a very excellent grassy road, passing on the way several small forks of
the stream. The hills here are higher, presenting escarpments of
party-colored and apparently clay rocks, purple, dark-red, and yellow,
containing strata of sandstone and limestone with shells, with a bed of
cemented pebbles, the whole overlaid by beds of limestone. The
alternation of red and yellow gives a bright appearance to the hills,
one of which was called by our people the Rainbow hill, and the
character of the country became more agreeable, and traveling far more
pleasant, as now we found timber and very good grass. Gradually
ascending, we reached the lower level of a bed of white limestone,
lying upon a white clay, on the upper line of which the whole road is
abundantly supplied with beautiful cool springs, gushing out a foot in
breadth and several inches deep, directly from the hill-side.

At noon we halted at the last main fork of the creek, at an elevation
of 7,200 feet, and in latitude, by observation, 41° 39' 45"; and in the
afternoon continued on the same excellent road, up the left or northern
fork of the stream, towards its head, in a pass which the barometer
placed at 8,230 feet above the sea. This is a connecting ridge between
the Utah or Bear River mountains and the Wind River chain of the Rocky
mountains, separating the waters of the Gulf of California on the east,
and those on the west belonging more directly to the Pacific, from a
vast interior basin whose rivers are collected into numerous lakes
having no outlet to the ocean. From the summit of this pass, the
highest which the road crosses between the Mississippi and the Western
ocean, our view was over a very mountainous region, whose rugged
appearance was greatly increased by the smoky weather, through which
the broken ridges were dark and dimly seen. The ascent to the summit of
the gap was occasionally steeper than the national road in the
Alleghanies; and the descent, by way of a spur on the western side, is
rather precipitous, but the pass may still be called a good one. Some
thickets of the willow in the hollows below deceived us into the
expectation of finding a camp at our usual hour at the foot of the
mountain; but we found them without water, and continued down a ravine,
and encamped about dark at a place where the springs began again to
make their appearance, but where our animals fared badly; the stock of
the emigrants having razed the grass as completely as if we were again
in the midst of the buffalo.

21st.--An hour's travel this morning brought us into the fertile and
picturesque valley of Bear river, the principal tributary to the Great
Salt lake. The stream is here two hundred feet wide, fringed with
willows and occasional groups of hawthorns. We were now entering a
region which, for us, possessed a strange and extraordinary interest.
We were upon the waters of the famous lake which forms a salient point
among the remarkable geographical features of the country, and around
which the vague and superstitious accounts of the trappers had thrown a
delightful obscurity, which we anticipated pleasure in dispelling, but
which, in the mean time, left a crowded field for the exercise of our
imagination.

In our occasional conversations with the few old hunters who had
visited the region, it had been a subject of frequent speculation; and
the wonders which they related were not the less agreeable because they
were highly exaggerated and impossible.

Hitherto this lake had been seen only by trappers who were wandering
through the country in search of new beaver-streams, caring very little
for geography; its islands had never been visited; and none were to be
found who had entirely made the circuit of its shores; and no
instrumental observations or geographical survey, of any description,
had ever been made anywhere in the neighboring region. It was generally
supposed that it had no visible outlet; but among the trappers,
including those in my own camp, were many who believed that somewhere
on its surface was a terrible whirlpool, through which its waters found
their way to the ocean by some subterranean communication. All these
things had made a frequent subject of discussion in our desultory
conversations around the fires at night; and my own mind had become
tolerably well filled with their indefinite pictures, and insensibly
colored with their romantic descriptions, which, in the pleasure of
excitement, I was well disposed to believe, and half expected to
realize.

Where we descended into this beautiful valley, it is three to four
miles in breadth, perfectly level, and bounded by mountainous ridges,
one above another, rising suddenly from the plain.

We continued our road down the river, and at night encamped with a
family of emigrants--two men, women, and several children--who appeared
to be bringing up the rear of the great caravan. I was struck with the
fine appearance of their cattle, some six or eight yoke of oxen, which
really looked as well as if they had been all the summer at work on
some good farm. It was strange to see one small family traveling along
through such a country, so remote from civilization. Some nine years
since, such a security might have been a fatal one, but since their
disastrous defeats in the country a little north, the Blackfeet have
ceased to visit these waters. Indians however, are very uncertain in
their localities; and the friendly feelings, also, of those now
inhabiting it may be changed.

According to barometrical observation at noon, the elevation Of the
valley was 6,400 feet above the sea; and our encampment at night in
latitude 42° 03' 47", and longitude 111° 10' 53", by observation--the
day's journey having been 26 miles. This encampment was therefore
within the territorial limit of the United States; our traveling, from
the time we entered the valley of the Green river, on the 15th of
August, having been south of the 42d degree of north latitude, and
consequently on Mexican territory; and this is the route all the
emigrants now travel to Oregon.

The temperature at sunset was 65°; and at evening there was a distant
thunder-storm, with a light breeze from the north.

Antelope and elk were seen during the day on the opposite prairie; and
there were ducks and geese in the river.

The next morning, in about three miles from our encampment, we reached
Smith's fork, a stream of clear water, about 50 feet in breadth. It is
timbered with cottonwood, willow, and aspen, and makes a beautiful
debouchement through a pass about 600 yards wide, between remarkable
mountain hills, rising abruptly on either side, and forming gigantic
columns to the gate by which it enters Bear River valley. The bottoms,
which below Smith's fork had been two miles wide, narrowed as we
advanced to a gap 500 yards wide, and during the greater part of the
day we had a winding route, the river making very sharp and sudden
bends, the mountains steep and rocky, and the valley occasionally so
narrow as only to leave space for a passage through.

We made our halt at noon in a fertile bottom, where the common blue
flax was growing abundantly, a few miles below the mouth of Thomas's
fork, one of the larger tributaries of the river.

Crossing, in the afternoon, the point of a narrow spur, we descended
into a beautiful bottom, formed by a lateral valley, which presented a
picture of home beauty that went directly to our hearts. The edge of
the wood, for several miles along the river, was dotted with the white
covers of emigrant wagons, collected in groups at different camps,
where the smoke was rising lazily from the fires, around which the
women were occupied in preparing the evening meal, and the children
playing in the grass; and herds of cattle, grazing about in the bottom,
had an air of quiet security, and civilized comfort, that made a rare
sight for the traveler in such a remote wilderness.

In common with all the emigration, they had been reposing for several
days in this delightful valley, in order to recruit their animals on
its luxuriant pasturage after their long journey, and prepare them for
the hard travel along the comparatively sterile banks of the Upper
Columbia. At the lower end of this extensive bottom, the river passes
through an open canon, where there were high vertical rocks to the
water's edge, and the road here turns up a broad valley to the right.
It was already near sunset; but, hoping to reach the river again before
night, we continued our march along the valley, finding the road
tolerably good, until we arrived at a point where it crosses the ridge
by an ascent of a mile in length, which was so very steep and difficult
for the gun and carriage, that we did not reach the summit until dark.

It was absolutely necessary to descend into the valley for water and
grass; and we were obliged to grope our way in the darkness down a very
steep, bad mountain, reaching the river at about ten o'clock. It was
late before our animals were gathered into the camp, several of those
which were very weak being necessarily left to pass the night on the
ridge; and we sat down again to a midnight supper. The road, in the
morning, presented an animated appearance. We found that we had
encamped near a large party of emigrants; and a few miles below,
another party was already in motion. Here the valley had resumed its
usual breadth, and the river swept off along the mountains on the
western side, the road continuing directly on.

In about an hour's travel we met several Shoshonee Indians, who
informed us that they belonged to a large village which had just come
into the valley from the mountain to the westward, where they had been
hunting antelope and gathering service-berries. Glad at the opportunity
of seeing one of their villages, and in the hope of purchasing from
them a few horses, I turned immediately off into the plain towards
their encampment, which was situated on a small stream near the river.

We had approached within something more than a mile of the village,
when suddenly a single horseman emerged from it at full speed, followed
by another and another in rapid succession; and then party after party
poured into the plain, until, when the foremost rider reached us, all
the whole intervening plain was occupied by a mass of horsemen, which
came charging down upon us with guns and naked swords, lances, and bows
and arrows--Indians entirely naked, and warriors fully dressed for war,
with the long red streamers of their war-bonnets reaching nearly to the
ground, all mingled together in the bravery of savage warfare. They had
been thrown into a sudden tumult by the appearance of our flag, which,
among these people, is regarded as an emblem of hostility--it being
usually borne by the Sioux and the neighboring mountain Indians, when
they come here to war; and we had, accordingly been mistaken for a body
of their enemies. A few words from the chief quieted the excitement;
and the whole band, increasing every moment in number, escorted us to
their encampment, where the chief pointed out a place for us to encamp,
near his own lodge, and we made known our purpose in visiting the
village. In a very short time we purchased eight horses, for which we
gave in exchange blankets, red and blue cloth, beads, knives, and
tobacco, and the usual other articles of Indian traffic. We obtained
from them also a considerable quantity of berries, of different kinds,
among which service-berries were the most abundant; and several kinds
of roots and seeds, which we could eat with pleasure, as any kind of
vegetable food was gratifying to us. I ate here, for the first time,
the _kooyah_, or _tobacco-root_, (_valeriana edulis_,)--the principal
edible root among the Indians who inhabit the upper waters of the
streams on the western side of the mountains. It has a very strong and
remarkably peculiar taste and odor, which I can compare to no other
vegetable that I am acquainted with, and which to some persons is
extremely offensive. It was characterized by Mr. Preuss as the most
horrid food he had ever put in his mouth; and when, in the evening, one
of the chiefs sent his wife to me with a portion which she had prepared
as a delicacy to regale us, the odor immediately drove him out of the
lodge; and frequently afterwards he used to beg that when those who
liked it had taken what they desired, it might be sent away. To others,
however, the taste is rather an agreeable one; and I was afterwards
glad when it formed an addition to our scanty meals. It is full of
nutriment; and in its unprepared state is said by the Indians to have
very strong poisonous qualities, of which it is deprived by a peculiar
process, being baked in the ground for about two days.

The morning of the 24th was disagreeably cool, with an easterly wind,
and very smoky weather. We made a late start from the village, and,
regaining the road, (on which, during all the day, were scattered the
emigrant wagons,) we continued on down the valley of the river,
bordered by high and mountainous hills, on which fires are seen at the
summit. The soil appears generally good, although, with the grasses,
many of the plants are dried up, probably on account of the great heat
and want of rain. The common blue flax of cultivation, now almost
entirely in seed--only a scattered flower here and there remaining--is
the most characteristic plant of the Bear River valley. When we
encamped at night, on the right bank of the river, it was growing as in
a sown field. We had traveled during the day twenty-two miles,
encamping in latitude (by observation) 42° 36' 56", chronometric
longitude 111° 42' 05".

In our neighborhood the mountains appeared extremely rugged, giving
still greater value to this beautiful natural pass.

25th.--This was a cloudless but smoky autumn morning, with a cold wind
from the southeast, and a temperature of 45° at sunrise. In a few miles
I noticed, where a little stream crossed the road, fragments of
_scoriated basalt_ scattered about--the first volcanic rock we had
seen, and which now became a characteristic rock along our future road.
In about six miles' travel from our encampment, we reached one of the
points in our journey to which we had always looked forward with great
interest--the famous _Beer springs_. The place in which they are
situated is a basin of mineral waters enclosed by the mountains, which
sweep around a circular bend of Bear river, here at its most northern
point, and which, from a northern, in the course of a few miles
acquires a southern direction towards the GREAT SALT LAKE. A pretty
little stream of clear water enters the upper part of the basin, from
an open valley in the mountains, and, passing through the bottom,
discharges into Bear river. Crossing this stream, we descended a mile
below, and made our encampment in a grove of cedar immediately at the
Beer springs, which, on account of the effervescing gas and acid taste,
have received their name from the voyageurs and trappers of the
country, who, in the midst of their rude and hard lives, are fond of
finding some fancied resemblance to the luxuries they rarely have the
fortune to enjoy.

Although somewhat disappointed in the expectations which various
descriptions had led me to form of unusual beauty of situation and
scenery, I found it altogether a place of very great interest; and a
traveler for the first time in a volcanic region remains in a constant
excitement, and at every step is arrested by something remarkable and
new. There is a confusion of interesting objects gathered together in a
small space. Around the place of encampment the Beer springs were
numerous; but, as far as we could ascertain, were confined entirely to
that locality in the bottom. In the bed of the river, in front, for a
space of several hundred yards, they were very abundant; the
effervescing gas rising up and agitating the water in countless
bubbling columns. In the vicinity round about were numerous springs of
an entirely different and equally marked mineral character. In a rather
picturesque spot about 1,300 yards below our encampment, and
immediately on the river bank, is the most remarkable spring of the
place. In an opening on the rock, a white column of scattered water is
thrown up, in form like a _jet-d'eau_, to a variable height of about
three feet, and, though it is maintained in a constant supply, its
greatest height is only attained at regular intervals, according to the
action of the force below. It is accompanied by a subterranean noise,
which, together with the motion of the water, makes very much the
impression of a steamboat in motion; and, without knowing that it had
been already previously so called, we gave to it the name of the
_Steamboat spring_. The rock through which it is forced is slightly
raised in a convex manner, and gathered at the opening into an
urn-mouthed form, and is evidently formed by continued deposition from
the water, and colored bright red by oxide of iron. An analysis of this
deposited rock, which I subjoin, will give you some idea of the
properties of the water, which, with the exception of the Beer springs,
is the mineral water of the place. [Footnote: ANALYSIS. Carbonate of
lime - - - 92.55 Carbonate of magnesia -  0.42 Oxide of iron - - - - -
1.05

Silica- - - - - -} Alumina - - - - -}- - -  5.98 Water and loss- -}
_______
                       100.00]
It is a hot spring, and the water has a pungent and disagreeable
metallic taste, leaving a burning effect on the tongue. Within perhaps
two yards of the _jet-d'eau_ is a small hole of about an inch in
diameter, through which, at regular intervals, escapes a blast of hot
air, with a light wreath of smoke, accompanied by a regular noise. This
hole had been noticed by Dr. Wislizenus, a gentleman who had several
years since passed by this place, and who remarked, with very nice
observation, that smelling the gas which issued from the orifice
produced a sensation of giddiness and nausea. Mr. Preuss and myself
repeated the observation, and were so well satisfied with its
correctness, that we did not find it pleasant to continue the
experiment, as the sensation of giddiness which it produced was
certainly strong and decided. A huge emigrant wagon, with a large and
diversified family had overtaken us and halted to noon at our
encampment; and, while we were sitting at the spring, a band of boys
and girls, with two or three young men, came up, one of whom I asked to
stoop down and smell the gas, desirous to satisfy myself further of its
effects. But his natural caution had been awakened by the singular and
suspicious features of the place, and he declined my proposal
decidedly, and with a few indistinct remarks about the devil, whom he
seemed to consider the _genius loci_. The ceaseless motion and the play
of the fountain, the red rock and the green trees near, make this a
picturesque spot.

A short distance above the spring, and near the foot of the same spur,
is a very remarkable, yellow-colored rock, soft and friable, consisting
principally of carbonate of lime and oxide of iron, of regular
structure, which is probably a fossil coral. The rocky bank along the
shore between the Steamboat spring and our encampment, along which is
dispersed the water from the hills, is composed entirely of strata of a
calcareous _tufa_, with the remains of moss and reed-like grasses,
which is probably the formation of springs. The _Beer_ or _Soda
springs_, which have given name to this locality, are agreeable, but
less highly flavored than the Boiling springs at the foot of Pike's
peak, which are of the same character. They are very numerous, and half
hidden by tufts of grass, which we amused ourselves in removing and
searching about for more highly impregnated springs. They are some of
them deep, and of various sizes--sometimes several yards in diameter,
and kept in constant motion by columns of escaping gas. By analysis,
one quart of the water contains as follows:

                                 Grains.

Sulphate of magnesia------------ 12.10 Sulphate of lime----------------
2.12 Carbonate of lime---------------  3.86 Carbonate of
magnesia-----------  3.22 Chloride of calcium-------------  1.33
Chloride of magnesium-----------  1.12 Chloride of sodium--------------
2.24 Vegetable extractive matter, &c-- 0.85
                                 _____
                                 26.84

The carbonic acid, originally contained in the water, had mainly
escaped before it was subjected to analysis; and it was not, therefore,
taken into consideration.

In the afternoon I wandered about among the cedars, which occupy the
greater part of the bottom towards the mountains. The soil here has a
dry and calcined appearance; in some places, the open grounds are
covered with saline efflorescences, and there are a number of
regularly-shaped and very remarkable hills, which are formed of a
succession of convex strata that have been deposited by the waters of
extinct springs, the orifices of which are found on their summits, some
of them having the form of funnel-shaped cones. Others of these
remarkably-shaped hills are of a red-colored earth, entirely bare, and
composed principally of carbonate of lime, with oxide of iron, formed
in the same manner. Walking near one of them, on the summit of which
the springs were dry, my attention was attracted by an underground
noise, around which I circled repeatedly, until I found the spot from
beneath which it came; and, removing the red earth, discovered a hidden
spring, which was boiling up from below, with the same disagreeable
metallic taste as the Steamboat spring. Continuing up the bottom, and
crossing the little stream which has been already mentioned, I visited
several remarkable red and white hills, which had attracted my
attention from the road in the morning. These are immediately upon the
stream, and, like those already mentioned, are formed by the deposition
of successive strata from the springs. On their summits, the orifices
through which the waters had been discharged were so large, that they
resembled miniature craters, being some of them several feet in
diameter, circular, and regularly formed as if by art. At a former
time, when these dried-up fountains were all in motion, they must have
made a beautiful display on a grand scale; and nearly all this basin
appears to me to have been formed under their action, and should be
called the _place of fountains_. At the foot of one of these hills, or
rather on its side near the base, are several of these small limestone
columns, about one foot in diameter at the base, and tapering upwards
to a height of three or four feet; and on the summit the water is
boiling up and bubbling over, constantly adding to the height of the
little obelisks. In some, the water only boils up, no longer
overflowing, and has here the same taste as at the Steamboat spring.
The observer will remark a gradual subsidence in the water, which
formerly supplied the fountains; as on all the summits of the hills the
springs are now dry, and are found only low down upon their sides, or
on the surrounding plain.

A little higher up the creek its banks are formed by strata of very
heavy and hard scoriaceous basalt, having a bright metallic lustre when
broken. The mountains overlooking the plain are of an entirely
different geological character. Continuing on, I walked to the summit
of one of them, where the principal rock was a granular quartz.
Descending the mountains, and returning towards the camp along the base
of the ridge which skirts the plain, I found, at the foot of a mountain
spur, and issuing from a compact rock of a dark blue color, a great
number of springs having the same pungent and disagreeably metallic
taste already mentioned, the water of which was collected into a very
remarkable basin, whose singularity, perhaps, made it appear to me very
beautiful. It is large--perhaps fifty yards in circumference; and in it
the water is contained, at an elevation of several feet above the
surrounding ground, by a wall of calcareous _tufa_, composed
principally of the remains of mosses, three or four, and sometimes ten
feet high. The water within is very clear and pure, and three or four
feet deep, where it could be measured, near the wall; and at a
considerably low level, is another pond or basin of very clear water,
and apparently of considerable depth, from the bottom of which the gas
was escaping in bubbling columns at many places. This water was
collected into a small stream, which, in a few hundred yards, sank
under ground, reappearing among the rocks between the two great springs
near the river, which it entered by a little fall.

Late in the afternoon I set out on my return to the camp, and, crossing
in the way a large field of salt that was several inches deep, found on
my arrival that our emigrant friends, who had been encamped in company
with us, had resumed their journey, and the road had again assumed its
solitary character. The temperature of the largest of the _Beer_
springs at our encampment was 65° at sunset, that of the air being
62.5°. Our barometric observation gave 5,840 feet for the elevation
above the gulf, being about 500 feet lower than the Boiling springs,
which are of a similar nature, at the foot of Pike's peak. The
astronomical observations gave for our latitude 42° 39' 57", and 111°
46' 00" for the longitude. The night was very still and cloudless, and
I sat up for an observation of the first satellite of Jupiter, the
emersion of which took place about midnight; but fell asleep at the
telescope, awaking just a few minutes after the appearance of the star.

The morning of the 26th was calm, and the sky without clouds, but
smoky, and the temperature at sunrise 28.5°. At the same time, the
temperature of the large Beer spring, where we were encamped, was 56°;
that of the Steamboat spring 87°, and that of the steam-hole, near it,
81.5°. In the course of the morning, the last wagons of the emigration
passed by, and we were again left in our place, in the rear.

Remaining in camp until nearly 11 o'clock, we traveled a short distance
down the river, and halted to noon on the bank, at a point where the
road quits the valley of Bear river, and, crossing a ridge which
divides the Great basin from the Pacific waters, reaches Fort Hall, by
way of the Portneuf river, in a distance of probably fifty miles, or
two and a half days' journey for wagons. An examination of the great
lake which is the outlet of this river, and the principal feature of
geographical interest in the basin, was one of the main objects
contemplated in the general plan of our survey, and I accordingly
determined at this place to leave the road, and, after having completed
a reconnoissance of the lake, regain it subsequently at Fort Hall. But
our little stock of provisions had again become extremely low; we had
only dried meat sufficient for one meal, and our supply of flour and
other comforts was entirely exhausted. I therefore immediately
dispatched one of the party, Henry Lee, with a note to Carson, at Fort
Hall, directing him to load a pack-horse with whatever could be
obtained there in the way of provisions, and endeavor to overtake me on
the river. In the mean time, we had picked up along the road two
tolerably well-grown calves, which would have become food for wolves,
and which had probably been left by some of the earlier emigrants, none
of those we had met having made any claim to them; and on these I
mainly relied for support during our circuit to the lake.

In sweeping around the point of the mountain which runs down into the
bend, the river here passes between perpendicular walls of basalt,
which always fix the attention, from the regular form in which it
occurs, and its perfect distinctness from the surrounding rocks among
which it had been placed. The mountain, which is rugged and steep, and,
by our measurement, 1,400 feet above the river directly opposite the
place of our halt, is called the _Sheep-rock_--probably because a flock
of the mountain sheep (_ovis montana_) had been seen on the craggy
point.

As we were about resuming our march in the afternoon, I was attracted
by the singular appearance of an isolated hill with a concave summit,
in the plain, about two miles from the river, and turned off towards
it, while the camp proceeded on its way southward in search of the
lake. I found the thin and stony soil of the plain entirely underlaid
by the basalt which forms the river walls; and when I reached the
neighborhood of the hill, the surface of the plain was rent into
frequent fissures and chasms of the same scoriated volcanic rock, from
40 to 60 feet deep, but which there was not sufficient light to
penetrate entirely, and which I had not time to descend. Arrived at the
summit of the hill, I found that it terminated in a very perfect
crater, of an oval, or nearly circular form, 360 paces in
circumference, and 60 feet at the greatest depth. The walls, which were
perfectly vertical, and disposed like masonry in a very regular manner,
were composed of a brown-colored scoriaceous lava, similar to the light
scoriaceous lava of Mt. Etna, Vesuvius, and other volcanoes. The faces
of the walls were reddened and glazed by the fire, in which they had
been melted, and which had left them contorted and twisted by its
violent action.

Our route luring the afternoon was a little rough, being (in the
direction we had taken) over a volcanic plain, where our progress was
sometimes obstructed by fissures, and black beds, composed of fragments
of the rock. On both sides, the mountains appeared very broken, but
tolerably well timbered.

Crossing a point of ridge which makes in to the river, we fell upon it
again before sunset, and encamped on the right bank, opposite to the
encampment of three lodges of Snake Indians. They visited us during the
evening, and we obtained from them a small quantity of roots of
different kinds, in exchange for goods. Among them was a sweet root of
very pleasant flavor, having somewhat the taste of preserved quince. My
endeavors to become acquainted with the plants which furnish to the
Indians a portion of their support, were only gradually successful, and
after long and persevering attention; and even after obtaining, I did
not succeed in preserving them until they could be satisfactorily
determined. In this portion of the journey, I found this particular
root cut up into small pieces, that it was only to be identified by its
taste, when the bulb was met with in perfect form among the Indians
lower down on the Columbia, among whom it is the highly celebrated
kamas. It was long afterwards, on our return through Upper California,
that I found the plant itself in bloom, which I supposed to furnish the
kamas root, (_camassia esculenta_.) The root diet had a rather mournful
effect at the commencement, and one of the calves was killed this
evening for food. The animals fared well on rushes.

27th.--The morning was cloudy, with appearance of rain, and the
thermometer at sunrise at 29°. Making an unusually early start, we
crossed the river at a good ford; and, following for about three hours
a trail which led along the bottom, we entered a labyrinth of hills
below the main ridge, and halted to noon in the ravine of a pretty
little stream, timbered with cottonwood of a large size, ash-leaved
maple, with cherry and other shrubby trees. The hazy weather, which had
prevented any very extended views since entering the Green River
valley, began now to disappear. There was a slight rain in the earlier
part of the day, and at noon, when the thermometer had risen to 79.5°,
we had a bright sun, with blue sky and scattered _cumuli_. According to
the barometer, our halt there among the hills was at an elevation of
5,320 feet. Crossing a dividing ridge in the afternoon, we followed
down another little Bear River tributary, to the point where it emerged
on an open green flat among the hills, timbered with groves, and
bordered with cane thickets, but without water. A pretty little rivulet
coming out of the hillside, and overhung by tall flowering plants of a
species I had not hitherto seen, furnished us with a good
camping-place. The evening was cloudy, the temperature at sunset 69°,
and the elevation 5,140 feet. Among the plants occurring along the road
during the day, _epinettes des prairies_ (grindelia squarraso) was in
considerable abundance, and is among the very few plants remaining in
bloom--the whole country having now an autumnal appearance, in the
crisp and yellow plants, and dried-up grasses. Many cranes were seen
during the day, with a few antelope, very shy and wild.

28th.--During the night we had a thunder-storm, with moderate rain,
which has made the air this morning very clear, the thermometer being
at 55°. Leaving our encampment at the _Cane spring_, and quitting the
trail on which we had been traveling, and which would probably have
afforded us a good road to the lake, we crossed some very deep ravines,
and, in about an hour's traveling, again reached the river. We were now
in a valley five or six miles wide, between mountain ranges, which,
about thirty miles below, appeared to close up and terminate the
valley, leaving for the river only a very narrow pass, or canon, behind
which we imagined we would find the broad waters of the lake. We made
the usual halt at the mouth of a small clear stream, having a slightly
mineral taste, (perhaps of salt,) 4,760 feet above the gulf. In the
afternoon we climbed a very steep sandy hill; and after a slow and
winding day's march of 27 miles, encamped at a slough on the river.
There were great quantities of geese and, ducks, of which only a few
were shot; the Indians having probably made them very wild. The men
employed themselves in fishing but caught nothing. A skunk, (_mephitis
Americana_,) which was killed in the afternoon, made a supper for one
of the messes. The river is bordered occasionally with fields of cane,
which we regarded as an indication of our approach to a lake-country.
We had frequent showers of rain during the night, with thunder.

29th.--The thermometer at sunrise was 54°, with air from the NW., and
dark rainy clouds moving on the horizon; rain squalls and bright
sunshine by intervals. I rode ahead with Basil to explore the country,
and, continuing about three miles along the river, turned directly off
on a trail running towards three marked gaps in the bordering range,
where the mountains appeared cut through their bases, towards which the
river plain rose gradually. Putting our horses into a gallop on some
fresh tracks which showed very plainly in the wet path, we came
suddenly upon a small party of Shoshonee Indians, who had fallen into
the trail from the north. We could only communicate by signs; but they
made us understand that the road through the chain was a very excellent
one, leading into a broad valley which ran to the southward. We halted
to noon at what may be called the gate of the pass; on either side of
which were huge mountains of rock, between which stole a little pure
water stream, with a margin just sufficiently large for our passage.
From the river, the plain had gradually risen to an altitude of 5,500
feet, and, by meridian observation, the latitude of the entrance was
42°.

In the interval of our usual halt, several of us wandered along up the
stream to examine the pass more at leisure. Within the gate, the rocks
receded a little back, leaving a very narrow, but most beautiful
valley, through which the little stream wound its way, hidden by the
different kinds of trees and shrubs--aspen, maple, willow, cherry, and
elder; a fine verdure of smooth short grass spread over the remaining
space to the bare sides of the rocky walls. These were of a blue
limestone, which constitutes the mountain here; and opening directly on
the grassy bottom were several curious caves, which appeared to be
inhabited by root-diggers. On one side was gathered a heap of leaves
for a bed, and they were dry, open, and pleasant. On the roofs of the
caves I remarked bituminous exudations from the rock.

The trail was an excellent one for pack-horses; but as it sometimes
crossed a shelving point, to avoid the shrubbery we were obliged in
several places to open a road for the carriage through the wood. A
squaw on horseback, accompanied by five or six dogs, entered the pass
in the afternoon; but was too much terrified at finding herself in such
unexpected company to make any pause for conversation, and hurried off
at a good pace--being, of course, no further disturbed than by an
accelerating shout. She was well and showily dressed, and was probably
going to a village encamped somewhere near, and evidently did not
belong to the tribe of _root-diggers_. We now had entered a country
inhabited by these people; and as in the course of the voyage we shall
frequently meet with them in various stages of existence, it will be
well to inform you that, scattered over the great region west of the
Rocky mountains, and south of the Great Snake river, are numerous
Indians whose subsistence is almost solely derived from roots and
seeds, and such small animals as chance and great good fortune
sometimes bring within their reach. They are miserably poor, armed only
with bows and arrows, or clubs; and, as the country they inhabit is
almost destitute of game, they have no means of obtaining better arms.
In the northern part of the region just mentioned, they live generally
in solitary families; and farther to the south they are gathered
together in villages. Those who live together in villages, strengthened
by association, are in exclusive possession of the more genial and
richer parts of the country; while the others are driven to the ruder
mountains, and to the more inhospitable parts of the country. But by
simply observing, in accompanying us along our road, you will become
better acquainted with these people than we could make you in any other
than a very long description, and you will find them worthy of your
interest.

Roots, seeds, and grass, every vegetable that affords any nourishment,
and every living animal thing, insect or worm, they eat. Nearly
approaching to the lower animal creation, their sole employment is to
obtain food; and they are constantly occupied in struggling to support
existence.

The most remarkable feature of the pass is the _Standing rock_, which
has fallen from the cliffs above, and standing perpendicularly near the
middle of the valley, presents itself like a watch-tower in the pass.
It will give you a tolerably correct idea of the character of the
scenery in this country, where generally the mountains rise abruptly up
from comparatively unbroken plains and level valleys; but it will
entirely fail in representing the picturesque beauty of this delightful
place, where a green valley, full of foliage and a hundred yards wide,
contrasts with naked crags that spire up into a blue line of pinnacles
3,000 feet above, sometimes crested with cedar and pine, and sometimes
ragged and bare.

The detention that we met with in opening the road, and perhaps a
willingness to linger on the way, made the afternoon's travel short;
and about two miles from the entrance, we passed through another gate,
and encamped on the stream at the junction of a little fork from the
southward, around which the mountains stooped more gently down, forming
a small open cove.

As it was still early in the afternoon, Basil and myself in one
direction, and Mr. Preuss in another, set out to explore the country,
and ascended different neighboring peaks, in the hope of seeing some
indications of the lake; but though our elevation afforded magnificent
views, the eye ranging over a large extent of Bear river, with the
broad and fertile _Cache valley_ in the direction of our search, was
only to be seen a bed of apparently impracticable mountains. Among
these, the trail we had been following turned sharply to the northward,
and it began to be doubtful if it would not lead us away from the
object of our destination; but I nevertheless determined to keep it, in
the belief that it would eventually bring us right. A squall of rain
drove us out of the mountain, and it was late when we reached the camp.
The evening closed in with frequent showers of rain, with some
lightning and thunder.

30th.--We had constant thunder-storms during the night, but in the
morning the clouds were sinking to the horizon, and the air was clear
and cold, with the thermometer at sunrise at 39°. Elevation by
barometer 5,580 feet. We were in motion early, continuing up the little
stream without encountering any ascent where a horse would not easily
gallop; and, crossing a slight dividing ground at the summit, descended
upon a small stream, along which continued the same excellent road. In
riding through the pass, numerous cranes were seen; and prairie hens,
or grouse, (_bonasia umbellus_,) which lately had been rare, were very
abundant.

This little affluent brought us to a larger stream, down which we
traveled through a more open bottom, on a level road, where
heavily-laden wagons could pass without obstacle. The hills on the
right grew lower, and, on entering a more open country, we discovered a
Shoshonee village; and being desirous to obtain information, and
purchase from them some roots and berries, we halted on the river,
which was lightly wooded with cherry, willow, maple, service-berry, and
aspen. A meridian observation of the sun, which I obtained here, gave
42° 14' 22" for our latitude, and the barometer indicated a height of
5,170 feet. A number of Indians came immediately over to visit us, and
several men were sent to the village with goods, tobacco, knives,
cloth, vermilion, and the usual trinkets, to exchange for provisions.
But they had no game of any kind; and it was difficult to obtain any
roots from them, as they were miserably poor, and had but little to
spare from their winter stock of provisions. Several of the Indians
drew aside their blankets, showing me their lean and bony figures; and
I would not any longer tempt them with a display of our merchandise to
part with their wretched subsistence, when they gave as a reason that
it would expose them to temporary starvation. A great portion of the
region inhabited by this nation, formerly abounded in game--the buffalo
ranging about in herds, as we had found them on the eastern waters, and
the plains dotted with scattered bands of antelope; but so rapidly have
they disappeared within a few years, that now, as we journeyed along,
an occasional buffalo skull and a few wild antelope were all that
remained of the abundance which had covered the country with animal
life.

The extraordinary rapidity with which the buffalo is disappearing from
our territories will not appear surprising when we remember the great
scale on which their destruction is yearly carried on. With
inconsiderable exceptions, the business of the American trading-posts
is carried on in their skins; every year the Indian villages make new
lodges, for which the skin of the buffalo furnishes the material; and
in that portion of the country where they are still found, the Indians
derive their entire support from them, and slaughter them with a
thoughtless and abominable extravagance. Like the Indians themselves,
they have been a characteristic of the Great West; and as, like them,
they are visibly diminishing, it will be interesting to throw a glance
backward through the last twenty years, and give some account of their
former distribution through the country, and the limit of their western
range.

The information is derived principally from Mr. Fitzpatrick, supported
by my own personal knowledge and acquaintance with the country. Our
knowledge does not go farther back than the spring of 1824, at which
time the buffalo were spread in immense numbers over the Green River
and Bear River valleys, and through all the country lying between the
Colorado, or Green river of the Gulf of California, and Lewis's fork of
the Columbia river; the meridian of Fort Hall then forming the western
limit of their range. The buffalo then remained for many years in that
country, and frequently moved down the valley of the Columbia, on both
sides of the river as far as the _Fishing falls_. Below this point they
never descended in any numbers. About the year 1834 or 1835 they began
to diminish very rapidly, and continued to decrease until 1838 or 1840,
when, with the country we have just described, they entirely abandoned
all the waters of the Pacific north of Lewis's fork of the Columbia. At
that time, the Flathead Indians were in the habit of finding their
buffalo on the heads of Salmon river, and other streams of the
Columbia; but now they never meet with them farther west than the three
forks of the Missouri, or the plains of the Yellow-stone river.

In the course of our journey it will be remarked that the buffalo have
not so entirely abandoned the waters of the Pacific, in the
Rocky-Mountain region south of the Sweet Water, as in the country north
of the Great Pass. This partial distribution can only be accounted for
in the great pastoral beauty of that country, which bears marks of
having been one of their favorite haunts, and by the fact that the
white hunters have more frequented the northern than the southern
region--it being north of the South Pass that the hunters, trappers,
and traders, have had their rendezvous for many years past; and from
that section also the greater portion of the beaver and rich furs were
taken, although always the most dangerous as well as the most
profitable hunting-ground.

In that region lying between the Green or Colorado river and the
head-waters of the Rio del Norte, over the _Yampah, Kooyah, White_, and
_Grand_ rivers--all of which are the waters of the Colorado--the
buffalo never extended so far to the westward as they did on the waters
of the Columbia; and only in one or two instances have they been known
to descend as far west as the mouth of White river. In traveling
through the country west of the Rocky mountains, observation readily
led me to the impression that the buffalo had, for the first time,
crossed that range to the waters of the Pacific only a few years prior
to the period we are considering; and in this opinion I am sustained by
Mr. Fitzpatrick, and the older trappers in that country. In the region
west of the Rocky mountains, we never meet with any of the ancient
vestiges which, throughout all the country lying upon their eastern
waters, are found in the _great highways_, continuous for hundreds of
miles, always several inches, and sometimes several feet in depth,
which the buffalo have made in crossing from one river to another, or
in traversing the mountain ranges. The Snake Indians, more particularly
those low down upon Lewis's fork, have always been very grateful to the
American trappers, for the great kindness (as they frequently expressed
it) which they did to them, in driving the buffalo so low down the
Columbia river.

The extraordinary abundance of the buffalo on the east side of the
Rocky mountains, and their extraordinary diminution, will be made
clearly evident from the following statement: At any time between the
years 1824 and 1836, a traveler might start from any given point south
or north in the Rocky Mountain range, journeying by the most direct
route to the Missouri river; and, during the whole distance, his road
would always be among large bands of buffalo, which would never be out
of his view until he arrived almost within sight of the abodes of
civilization.

At this time, the buffalo occupy but a very limited space, principally
along the eastern base of the Rocky mountains, sometimes extending at
their southern extremity to a considerable distance into the plains
between the Platte and Arkansas rivers, and along the eastern frontier
of New Mexico as far south as Texas.

The following statement, which I owe to the kindness of Mr. Sanford, a
partner in the American Fur Company, will further illustrate this
subject, by extensive knowledge acquired during several years of travel
through the region inhabited by the buffalo:

"The total amount of robes annually traded by ourselves and others will
not be found to differ much from the following statement:

                                 Robes.

American Fur Company             70,000 Hudson's Bay Company
10,000 All other companies, probably    10,000
                                -------
Making a total of                90,000 as an average annual  return
for the last eight or ten years.


"In the northwest, the Hudson's Bay Company purchase from the Indians
but a very small number--their only market being Canada, to which the
cost of transportation nearly equals the produce of the furs; and it is
only within a very recent period that they have received buffalo robes
in trade; and out of the great number of buffalo annually killed
throughout the extensive region inhabited by the Camanches and other
kindred tribes, no robes whatever are furnished for trade. During only
four months of the year, (from November until March,) the skins are
good for dressing; those obtained in the remaining eight months are
valueless to traders; and the hides of bulls are never taken off or
dressed as robes at any season. Probably not more than one-third of the
skins are taken from the animals killed, even when they are in good
season, the labor of preparing and dressing the robes being very great;
and it is seldom that a lodge trades more than twenty skins in a year.
It is during the summer months, and in the early part of autumn, that
the greatest number of buffalo are killed, and yet at this time a skin
is never taken for the purpose of trade."

From these data, which are certainly limited, and decidedly within
bounds, the reader is left to draw his own inference of the immense
number annually killed.

In 1842, I found the Sioux Indians of the Upper Platte _demontes_, as
their French traders expressed it, with the failure of the buffalo; and
in the following year, large villages from the Upper Missouri came over
to the mountains at the heads of the Platte, in search of them. The
rapidly progressive failure of their principal, and almost their only
means of subsistence, has created great alarm among them; and at this
time there are only two modes presented to them, by which they see a
good prospect for escaping starvation: one of these is to rob the
settlements along the frontier of the States; and the other is to form
a league between the various tribes of the Sioux nation, the Cheyennes,
and Arapahoes, and make war against the Crow nation, in order to take
from them their country, which is now the best buffalo country in the
west. This plan they now have in consideration; and it would probably
be a war of extermination, as the Crows have long been advised of this
state of affairs, and say that they are perfectly prepared. These are
the best warriors in the Rocky mountains, and are now allied with the
Snake Indians; and it is probable that their combination would extend
itself to the Utahs, who have long been engaged in war against the
Sioux. It is in this section of country that my observation formerly
led me to recommend the establishment of a military post.

The farther course of our narrative will give fuller and more detailed
information of the present disposition of the buffalo in the country we
visited.

Among the roots we obtained here, I could distinguish only five or six
different kinds; and the supply of the Indians whom we met consisted
principally of yampah, (_anethum graveolens_,) tobacoo-root,
(_valeriana_,) and a large root of a species of thistle, (_circium
Virginianum_,) which now is occasionally abundant and is a very
agreeably flavored vegetable.

We had been detained so long at the village, that in the afternoon we
made only five miles, and encamped on the same river after a day's
journey of 19 miles. The Indians informed us that we should reach the
big salt water after having slept twice and traveling in a south
direction. The stream had here entered nearly a level plain or valley,
of good soil, eight or ten miles broad, to which no termination was to
be seen, and lying between ranges of mountains which, on the right,
were grassy and smooth, unbroken by rock, and lower than on the left,
where they were rocky and bald, increasing in height to the southward.
On the creek were fringes of young willows, older trees being rarely
found on the plains, where the Indians burn the surface to produce
better grass. Several magpies (_pica Hudsopica_) were seen on the creek
this afternoon; and a rattlesnake was killed here, the first which had
been seen since leaving the eastern plains. Our camp to-night had such
a hungry appearance that I suffered the little cow to be killed, and
divided the roots and berries among the people. A number of Indians
from the village encamped near.

The weather the next morning was clear, the thermometer at sunrise at
44.5°; and, continuing down the valley, in about five miles we followed
the little creek of our encampment to its junction with a larger
stream, called _Roseaux_, or Reed river. Immediately opposite, on the
right, the range was gathered into its highest peak, sloping gradually
low, and running off to a point apparently some forty or fifty miles
below. Between this (now become the valley stream) and the foot of the
mountains, we journeyed along a handsome sloping level, which frequent
springs from the hills made occasionally miry, and halted to noon at a
swampy spring, where there were good grass and abundant rushes. Here
the river was forty feet wide, with a considerable current, and the
valley a mile and a half in breadth; the soil being generally good, of
a dark color, and apparently well adapted to cultivation. The day had
become bright and pleasant, with the thermometer at 71°. By
observation, our latitude was 41° 59' 31", and the elevation above the
sea 4,670 feet. On our left, this afternoon, the range at long
intervals formed itself into peaks, appearing to terminate, about forty
miles below, in a rocky cape, beyond which several others were faintly
visible; and we were disappointed when, at every little rise, we did
not see the lake. Towards evening, our way was somewhat obstructed by
fields of _artemisia_, which began to make their appearance here, and
we encamped on the Roseaux, the water of which had acquired a decidedly
salt taste, nearly opposite to a canon gap in the mountains, through
which the Bear river enters this valley. As we encamped, the night set
in dark and cold, with heavy rain, and the artemisia, which was our
only wood, was so wet that it would not burn. A poor, nearly starved
dog, with a wound in his side from a ball, came to the camp, and
remained with us until the winter, when he met a very unexpected fate.



SEPTEMBER.


1st.--The morning was squally and cold; the sky scattered over with
clouds; and the night had been so uncomfortable, that we were not on
the road until eight o'clock. Traveling between Roseaux and Bear
rivers, we continued to descend the valley, which gradually expanded,
as we advanced, into a level plain, of good soil, about 25 miles in
breadth, between mountains 3,000 and 4,000 feet high, rising suddenly
to the clouds, which all day rested upon the peaks. These gleamed out
in the occasional sunlight, mantled with the snow, which had fallen
upon them, while it rained on us in the valley below, of which the
elevation here was 4,500 feet above the sea. The country before us
plainly indicated that we were approaching the lake, though, as the
ground we were traveling afforded no elevated point, nothing of it as
yet could be seen; and at a great distance ahead were several isolated
mountains resembling islands, which they were afterwards found to be.
On this upper plain, the grass was everywhere dead; and among the
shrubs with which it was almost exclusively occupied, (artemisia being
the most abundant,) frequently occurred handsome clusters of several
species of _dieteria_ in bloom. _Purshia tridentata_ was among the
frequent shrubs. Descending to the bottoms of Bear river, we found good
grass for the animals, and encamped about 300 yards above the mouth of
Roseaux, which here makes its junction, without communicating any of
its salty taste to the main stream, of which the water remains
perfectly pure. On the river are only willow thickets, (_salix
longifolia_,) and in the bottoms the abundant plants are canes,
soldiago, and helianthi, and along the banks of Roseaux are fields of
_malva rotundifolia_. At sunset the thermometer was at 54.5°, and the
evening clear and calm; but I deferred making any use of it until one
o'clock in the morning, when I endeavored to obtain an emersion of the
first satellite; but it was lost in a bank of clouds, which also
rendered our usual observations indifferent.

Among the useful things which formed a portion of our equipage, was an
India-rubber boat, 18 feet long, made somewhat in the form of a bark
canoe of the northern lakes. The sides were formed by two air-tight
cylinders, eighteen inches in diameter, connected with others forming
the bow and stern. To lessen the danger from accidents to the boat,
these were divided into four different compartments, and the interior
space was sufficiently large to contain five or six persons, and a
considerable weight of baggage. The Roseaux being too deep to be
forded, our boat was filled with air, and in about one hour all the
equipage of the camp, carriage and gun included, ferried across.
Thinking that perhaps in the course of the day we might reach the
outlet of the lake, I got into the boat with Basil Lajeunesse, and
paddled down Bear river, intending at night to rejoin the party, which
in the mean time proceeded on its way. The river was from sixty to one
hundred yards broad, and the water so deep, that even on the
comparatively shallow points we could not reach the bottom with 15
feet. On either side were alternately low bottoms and willow points,
with an occasional high prairie; and for five or six hours we followed
slowly the winding course of the river, which crept along with a
sluggish current among frequent _detours_ several miles around,
sometimes running for a considerable distance directly up the valley.
As we were stealing quietly down the stream, trying in vain to get a
shot at a strange large bird that was numerous among the willows, but
very shy, we came unexpectedly upon several families of _Root-Diggers_,
who were encamped among the rushes on the shore, and appeared very busy
about several weirs or nets which had been rudely made of canes and
rushes for the purpose of catching fish. They were very much startled
at our appearance, but we soon established an acquaintance; and finding
that they had some roots, I promised to send some men with goods to
trade with them. They had the usual very large heads, remarkable among
the Digger tribe, with matted hair, and were almost entirely naked:
looking very poor and miserable, as if their lives had been spent in
the rushes where they were, beyond which they seemed to have very
little knowledge of any thing. From the words we could comprehend,
their language was that of the Snake Indians.

Our boat moved so heavily, that we had made very little progress; and,
finding that it would be impossible to overtake the camp, as soon as we
were sufficiently far below the Indians, we put to the shore near a
high prairie bank, hauled up the boat, and _cached_ our effects in the
willows. Ascending the bank, we found that our desultory labor had
brought us only a few miles in a direct line; and, going out into the
prairie, after a search we found the trail of the camp, which was
nowhere in sight, but had followed the general course of the river in a
large circular sweep which it makes at this place. The sun was about
three hours high when we found the trail; and as our people had passed
early in the day, we had the prospect of a vigorous walk before us.
Immediately where we landed, the high arable plain on which we had been
traveling, for several days past, terminated in extensive low flats,
very generally occupied by salt marshes, or beds of shallow lakes,
whence the water had in most places evaporated, leaving their hard
surface incrusted with a shining white residuum; and absolutely covered
with very small _univalve_ shells. As we advanced, the whole country
around us assumed this appearance; and there was no other vegetation
than the shrubby chenopodiaceous and other apparently saline plants,
which were confined to the rising grounds. Here and there, on the river
bank, which was raised like a levee above the flats through which it
ran, was a narrow border of grass and short black-burnt willows; the
stream being very deep and sluggish, and sometimes six hundred to eight
hundred feet wide. After a rapid walk of about fifteen miles, we caught
sight of the camp-fires among clumps of willows, just as the sun had
sunk behind the mountains on the west side of the valley, filling the
clear sky with a golden yellow. These last rays, to us so precious,
could not have revealed a more welcome sight. To the traveler and the
hunter, a camp-fire in the lonely wilderness is always cheering; and to
ourselves, in our present situation, after a hard march in a region of
novelty, approaching the _debouches_ of a river, in a lake of almost
fabulous reputation, it was doubly so. A plentiful supper of aquatic
birds, and the interest of the scene, soon dissipated fatigue; and I
obtained during the night emersions of the second, third, and fourth
satellites of Jupiter, with observations for time and latitude.

3d.--The morning was clear, with a light air from the north, and the
thermometer at sunrise at 45.5°. At three in the morning, Basil was
sent back with several men and horses for the boat, which, in a direct
course across the flats, was not ten miles distant; and in the mean
time there was a pretty spot of grass here for the animals. The ground
was so low that we could not get high enough to see across the river,
on account of the willows; but we were evidently in the vicinity of the
lake, and the water-fowl made this morning a noise like thunder. A
pelican (_pelecanus onocrotalus_) was killed as he passed by, and many
geese and ducks flew over the camp. On the dry salt marsh here is
scarce any other plant than _salicornia herbacea_.

In the afternoon the men returned with the boat, bringing with them a
small quantity of roots and some meat, which the Indians had told them
was bear-meat.

Descending the river for about three miles, in the afternoon, we found
a bar to any further traveling in that direction--the stream being
spread out in several branches, and covering the low grounds with
water, where the miry nature of the bottom did not permit any further
advance. We were evidently on the border of the lake, although the
rushes and canes which covered the marshes prevented any view; and we
accordingly encamped at the little _delta_ which forms the mouth of
Bear river--a long arm of the lake stretching up to the north, between
us and the opposite mountains. The river was bordered with a fringe of
willows and canes, among which were interspersed a few plants; and
scattered about on the marsh was a species of _uniola_, closely allied
to _U. spicata_ of our sea-coast. The whole morass was animated with
multitudes of water-fowl, which appeared to be very wild--rising for
the space of a mile round about at the sound of a gun, with a noise
like distant thunder. Several of the people waded out into the marshes,
and we had to-night a delicious supper of ducks, geese, and plover.

Although the moon was bright, the night was otherwise favorable; and I
obtained this evening an emersion of the first satellite, with the
usual observations. A mean result, depending on various observations
made during our stay in the neighborhood, places the mouth of the river
in longitude 112° 19' 30" west from Greenwich; latitude 41° 30' 22";
and, according to the barometer, in elevation 4,200 feet above the Gulf
of Mexico. The night was clear, with considerable dew, which I had
remarked every night since the first of September. The next morning,
while we were preparing to start, Carson rode into the camp with flour
and a few other articles of light provision sufficient for two or three
days--a scanty but very acceptable supply. Mr. Fitzpatrick had not yet
arrived, and provisions were very scarce, and difficult to be had at
Fort Hall, which had been entirely exhausted by the necessities of the
emigrants. He brought me also a letter from Mr. Dwight, who, in company
with several emigrants, had reached that place in advance of Mr.
Fitzpatrick, and was about continuing his journey to Vancouver.

Returning about five miles up the river, we were occupied until nearly
sunset in crossing to the left bank--the stream, which in the last five
or six miles of its course is very much narrower than above, being very
deep immediately at the banks; and we had great difficulty in getting
our animals over. The people with the baggage were easily crossed in
the boat, and we encamped on the left bank where we crossed the river.
At sunset the thermometer was at 75°, and there was some rain during
the night, with a thunder-storm at a distance.

5th.--Before us was evidently the bed of the lake, being a great salt
marsh, perfectly level and bare, whitened in places by saline
efflorescences, with here and there a pool of water, and having the
appearance of a very level seashore at low tide. Immediately along the
river was a very narrow strip of vegetation, consisting of willows,
helianthi, roses, flowering vines, and grass; bordered on the verge of
the great marsh by a fringe of singular plants, which appear to be a
shrubby salicornia, or a genus allied to it.

About 12 miles to the southward was one of those isolated mountains,
now appearing to be a kind of peninsula; and towards this we
accordingly directed our course, as it probably afforded a good view of
the lake; but the deepening mud as we advanced forced us to return
towards the river, and gain the higher ground at the foot of the
eastern mountains. Here we halted for a few minutes at noon, on a
beautiful little stream of pure and remarkably clear water, with a bed
of rock _in situ_, on which was an abundant water-plant with a white
blossom. There was good grass in the bottoms; and, amidst a rather
luxuriant growth, its banks were bordered with a large showy plant,
(_eupatorium purpureum_,) which I here saw for the first time. We named
the stream _Clear creek_.

We continued our way along the mountain, having found here a broad
plainly-beaten trail, over what was apparently the shore of the lake in
the spring; the ground being high and firm, and the soil excellent, and
covered with vegetation, among which a leguminous plant (_glycyrrhiza
lepidota_) was a characteristic plant. The ridge here rises abruptly to
the height of about 4,000 feet, its face being very prominently marked
with a massive stratum of rose-colored granular quartz, which is
evidently an altered sedimentary rock, the lines of deposition being
very distinct. It is rocky and steep--divided into several
mountains--and the rain in the valley appears to be always snow on
their summits at this season. Near a remarkably rocky point of the
mountain, at a large spring of pure water, were several
hackberry-trees, (_celtis_,) probably a new species, the berries still
green; and a short distance farther, thickets of sumach, (_rhus_.)

On the plain here I noticed blackbirds and grouse. In about seven miles
from Clear creek, the trail brought us to a place at the foot of the
mountain where there issued, with considerable force, 10 or 12 hot
springs, highly impregnated with salt. In one of these the thermometer
stood at 136°, and in another at 132.5°, and the water, which was
spread in pools over the low ground, was colored red.

An analysis of the red earthy matter deposited in the bed of the stream
from the springs, gives the following result:

Peroxide of iron------- 33.50 Carbonate of magnesia--  2.40 Carbonate
of lime------ 50.43 Sulphate of lime-------  2.00 Chloride of
sodium-----  3.45 Silica and alumina------ 3.00 Water and
loss---------- 5.22
                       ------
                       100.00°

At this place the trail we had been following turned to the left,
apparently with a view of entering a gorge in the mountain, from which
issued the principal fork of a large and comparatively well-timbered
stream, called Weber's fork. We accordingly turned off towards the
lake, and encamped on this river, which was 100 to 150 feet wide, with
high banks, and very clear pure water, without the slightest indication
of salt.

6th.--Leaving the encampment early, we again directed our course for
the peninsular _butte_ across a low shrubby plain, crossing in the way
a slough-like creek with miry banks, and wooded with thickets of thorn,
(_crataegus_,) which were loaded with berries. This time we reached the
butte without any difficulty, and, ascending to the summit, immediately
at our feet beheld the object of our anxious search--the waters of the
Inland Sea, stretching in still and solitary grandeur far beyond the
limit of our vision. It was one of the great points of the exploration;
and as we looked eagerly over the lake in the first emotions of excited
pleasure, I am doubtful if the followers of Balboa felt more enthusiasm
when, from the heights of the Andes, they saw for the first time the
great Western ocean. It was certainly a magnificent object, and a noble
_terminus_ to this part of our expedition; and to travelers so long
shut up among mountain ranges, a sudden view over the expanse of silent
waters had in it something sublime. Several large islands raised their
high rocky heads out of the waves; but whether or not they were
timbered, was still left to our imagination, as the distance was too
great to determine if the dark hues upon them were woodland or naked
rock. During the day the clouds had been gathering black over the
mountains to the westward, and, while we were looking, a storm burst
down with sudden fury upon the lake, and entirely hid the inlands from
our view. So far as we could see, along the shores there was not a
solitary tree, and but little appearance of grass; and on Weber's fork,
a few miles below our last encampment, the timber was gathered into
groves, and then disappeared entirely. As this appeared to be the
nearest point to the lake, where a suitable camp could be found, we
directed our course to one of the groves, where we found a handsome
encampment, with good grass and an abundance of rushes, (_equisetum
hyemale_.) At sunset the thermometer was at 55°; the evening clear and
calm, with some cumuli.

7th.--The morning was calm and clear, with a temperature at sunrise of
39.5°. The day was spent in active preparation for our intended voyage
on the lake. On the edge of the stream a favorable spot was selected in
a grove, and, felling the timber, we made a strong _coral_, or
horse-pen, for the animals, and a little fort for the people who were
to remain. We were now probably in the country of the Utah Indians,
though none reside on the lake. The India-rubber boat was repaired with
prepared cloth and gum, and filled with air, in readiness for the next
day.

The provisions which Carson brought with him being now exhausted, and
our stock reduced to a small quantity of roots, I determined to retain
with me only a sufficient number of men for the execution of our
design; and accordingly seven were sent back to Fort Hall, under the
guidance of François Lajeunesse, who, having been for many years a
trapper in the country, was considered an experienced mountaineer.
Though they were provided with good horses, and the road was a
remarkably plain one of only four days' journey for a horse-man, they
became bewildered, (as we afterwards learned,) and, losing their way,
wandered about the country in parties of one or two, reaching the fort
about a week afterwards. Some straggled in of themselves, and the
others were brought in by Indians who had picked them up on Snake
river, about sixty miles below the fort, traveling along the emigrant
road in full march for the Lower Columbia. The leader of this
adventurous party was François.

Hourly barometrical observations were made during the day, and, after
the departure of the party for Fort Hall, we occupied ourselves in
continuing our little preparations, and in becoming acquainted with the
country in the vicinity. The bottoms along the river were timbered with
several kinds of willow, hawthorn, and fine cottonwood-trees (_populus
canadensis_) with remarkably large leaves, and sixty feet in height by
measurement.

We formed now but a small family. With Mr. Preuss and myself, Carson,
Bernier, and Basil Lajeunesse, had been selected for the boat
expedition--the first attempted on this interior sea; and Badeau, with
Derosier, and Jacob, (the colored man,) were to be left in charge of
the camp. We were favored with most delightful weather. To-night there
was a brilliant sunset of golden orange and green, which left the
western sky clear and beautifully pure; but clouds in the east made me
lose an occultation. The summer frogs were singing around us; and the
evening was very pleasant, with a temperature of 60°--a night of a more
southern autumn. For our supper we had _yampah_, the most agreeably
flavored of the roots, seasoned by a small fat duck, which had come in
the way of Jacob's rifle. Around our fire to-night were many
speculations on what to-morrow would bring forth, and in our busy
conjectures we fancied that we should find every one of the large
islands a tangled wilderness of trees and shrubbery, teeming with game
of every description that the neighboring region afforded, and which
the foot of a white man or Indian had never violated. Frequently,
during the day, clouds had rested on the summits of their lofty
mountains, and we believed that we should find clear streams and
springs of fresh water; and we indulged in anticipations of the
luxurious repasts with which we were to indemnify ourselves for past
privations. Neither, in our discussions, were the whirlpool and other
mysterious dangers forgotten, which Indian and hunters' stories
attributed to this unexplored lake. The men had found that, instead of
being strongly sewed, (like that of the preceding year, which had so
triumphantly rode the canons of the upper Great Platte,) our present
boat was only pasted together in a very insecure manner, the maker
having been allowed so little time in the construction, that he was
obliged to crowd the labor of two months into several days. The
insecurity of the boat was sensibly felt by us; and, mingled with the
enthusiasm and excitement that we all felt at the prospect of an
undertaking which had never before been accomplished, was a certain
impression of danger, sufficient to give a serious character to our
conversation. The momentary view which had been had of the lake the day
before, its great extent and rugged islands, dimly seen amidst the dark
waters in the obscurity of the sudden storm, were calculated to
heighten the idea of undefined danger with which the lake was generally
associated.

8th.--A calm, clear day, with a sunrise temperature of 41°. In view of
our present enterprise, a part of the equipment of the boat had been
made to consist in three air-tight bags, about three feet long, and
capable each of containing five gallons. These had been filled with
water the night before, and were now placed in the boat, with our
blankets and instruments, consisting of a sextant, telescope,
spy-glass, thermometer, and barometer.

We left the camp at sunrise, and had a very pleasant voyage down the
river, in which there was generally eight or ten feet of water,
deepening as we neared the mouth in the latter part of the day. In the
course of the morning we discovered that two of the cylinders leaked so
much as to require one man constantly at the bellows, to keep them
sufficiently full of air to support the boat. Although we had made a
very early start, we loitered so much on the way--stopping every now
and then, and floating silently along, to get a shot at a goose or
duck--that it was late in the day when we reached the outlet. The river
here divided into several branches, filled with fluvials, and so very
shallow that it was with difficulty we could get the boat along, being
obliged to get out and wade. We encamped on a low point among rushes
and young willows, where was a quantity of drift-wood, which served for
our fires. The evening was mild and clear; we made a pleasant bed of
young willows; and geese and ducks enough had been killed for an
abundant supper at night, and for breakfast the next morning. The
stillness of the night was enlivened by millions of water-fowl. Lat.
(by observation) 41° 11' 26"; and long. 112° 11' 30".

9th.--The day was clear and calm; the thermometer at sunrise at 49°. As
is usual with the trappers on the eve of any enterprise, our people had
made dreams, and theirs happened to be a bad one--one which always
preceded evil--and consequently they looked very gloomy this morning;
but we hurried through our breakfast, in order to made an early start,
and have all the day before us for our adventure. The channel in a
short distance became so shallow that our navigation was at an end,
being merely a sheet of soft mud, with a few inches of water, and
sometimes none at all, forming the low-water shore of the lake. All
this place was absolutely covered with flocks of screaming plover. We
took off our clothes, and, getting overboard, commenced dragging the
boat--making, by this operation, a very curious trail, and a very
disagreeable smell in stirring up the mud, as we sank above the knee at
every step. The water here was still fresh, with only an insipid and
disagreeable taste, probably derived from the bed of fetid mud. After
proceeding in this way about a mile, we came to a small black ridge on
the bottom, beyond which the water became suddenly salt, beginning
gradually to deepen, and the bottom was sandy and firm. It was a
remarkable division, separating the fresh waters of the rivers from the
briny water of the lake, which was entirely _saturated_ with common
salt. Pushing our little vessel across the narrow boundary, we sprang
on board, and at length were afloat on the waters of the unknown sea.

We did not steer for the mountainous islands, but directed our course
towards a lower one, which it had been decided we should first visit,
the summit of which was formed like the crater at the upper end of Bear
River valley. So long as we could touch the bottom with our paddles, we
were very gay; but gradually, as the water deepened, we became more
still in our frail batteau of gum-cloth distended with air, and with
pasted seams. Although the day was very calm, there was a considerable
swell on the lake; and there were white patches of foam on the surface,
which were slowly moving to the southward, indicating the set of a
current in that direction, and recalling the recollection of the
whirlpool stories. The water continued to deepen as we advanced--the
lake becoming almost transparently clear, of an extremely beautiful
bright-green color; and the spray, which was thrown into the boat and
over our clothes, was directly converted into a crust of common salt,
which covered also our hands and arms. "Captain," said Carson, who for
some time had been looking suspiciously at some whitening appearances
outside the nearest islands, "what are those yonder?--won't you just
take a look with the glass?" We ceased paddling for a moment, and found
them to be the caps of the waves that were beginning to break under the
force of a strong breeze that was coming up the lake.

The form of the boat seemed to be an admirable one, and it rode on the
waves like a water-bird; but, at the same time, it was extremely slow
in its progress. When we were a little more than half way across the
reach, two of the divisions between the cylinders gave way, and it
required the constant use of the bellows to keep in a sufficient
quantity of air. For a long time we scarcely seemed to approach our
island, but gradually we worked across the rougher sea of the open
channel, into the smoother water under the lee of the island, and began
to discover that what we took for a long row of pelicans, ranged on the
beach, were only low cliffs whitened with salt by the spray of the
waves; and about noon we reached the shore, the transparency of the
water enabling us to see the bottom at a considerable depth.

It was a handsome broad beach where we landed, behind which the hill,
into which the island was gathered, rose somewhat abruptly; and a point
of rock at one end enclosed it in a sheltering way; and as there was an
abundance of drift-wood along the shore, it offered us a pleasant
encampment. We did not suffer our frail boat to touch the sharp rocks,
but, getting overboard, discharged the baggage, and, lifting it gently
out of the water, carried it to the upper part of the beach, which was
composed of very small fragments of rock.

Among the successive banks of the beach, formed by the action of the
waves, our attention, as we approached the island, had been attracted
by one 10 to 20 feet in breadth, of a dark-brown color. Being more
closely examined, this was found to be composed, to the depth of seven
or eight and twelve inches, entirely of the _larvæ_ of insects, or, in
common language; of the skins of worms, about the size of a grain of
oats, which had been washed up by the waters of the lake.

Alluding to this subject some months afterwards, when traveling through
a more southern portion of this region, in company with Mr. Joseph
Walker, an old hunter, I was informed by him, that, wandering with a
party of men in a mountain country east of the great California range,
he surprised a party of several Indian families encamped near a small
salt lake, who abandoned their lodges at his approach, leaving every
thing behind them. Being in a starving condition, they were delighted
to find in the abandoned lodges a number of skin bags, containing a
quantity of what appeared to be fish, dried and pounded. On this they
made a hearty supper, and were gathering around an abundant breakfast
the next morning, when Mr. Walker discovered that it was with these, or
a similar worm, that the bags had been filled. The stomachs of the
stout trappers were not proof against their prejudices, and the
repulsive food was suddenly rejected. Mr. Walker had further
opportunities of seeing these worms used as an article of food; and I
am inclined to think they are the same as those we saw, and appear to
be a product of the salt lakes. It may be well to recall to your mind
that Mr. Walker was associated with Capt. Bonneville in his expedition
to the Rocky mountains, and has since that time remained in the
country, generally residing in some one of the Snake villages, when not
engaged in one of his numerous trapping expeditions, in which he is
celebrated as one of the best and bravest leaders who have ever been in
the country.

The cliffs and masses of rock along the shore were whitened by an
incrustation of salt where the waves dashed up against them; and the
evaporating water, which had been left in holes and hollows on the
surface of the rocks, was covered with a crust of salt about one-eighth
of an inch in thickness. It appeared strange that, in the midst of this
grand reservoir, one of our greatest wants lately had been salt.
Exposed to be more perfectly dried in the sun, this became very white
and fine, having the usual flavor of very excellent common salt,
without any foreign taste; but only a little was collected for present
use, as there was in it a number of small black insects.

Carrying with us the barometer and other instruments, in the afternoon
we ascended to the highest point of the island--a bare, rocky peak,
eight hundred feet above the lake. Standing on the summit, we enjoyed
an extended view of the lake, enclosed in a basin of rugged mountains,
which sometimes left marshy flats and extensive bottoms between them
and the shore, and in other places came directly down into the water
with bold and precipitous bluffs. Following with our glasses the
irregular shores, we searched for some indications of a communication
with other bodies of water, or the entrance of other rivers; but the
distance was so great that we could make out nothing with certainty. To
the southward, several peninsular mountains, 3,000 or 4,000 feet high,
entered the lake, appearing, so far as the distance and our position
enabled us to determine, to be connected by flats and low ridges with
the mountains in the rear. These are probably the islands usually
indicated on maps of this region as entirely detached from the shore.
The season of our operations was when the waters were at their lowest
stage. At the season of high waters in the spring, it is probable that
the marshes and low grounds are overflowed, and the surface of the lake
considerably greater. In several places the view was of unlimited
extent--here and there a rocky islet appearing above the waters, at a
great distance; and beyond, every thing was vague and undefined. As we
looked over the vast expanse of water spread out beneath us, and
strained our eyes along the silent shores over which hung so much doubt
and uncertainty, and which were so full of interest to us, I could
hardly repress the almost irresistible desire to continue our
explorations; but the lengthening snow on the mountains was a plain
indication of the advancing season, and our frail linen boat appeared
so insecure that I was unwilling to trust our lives to the
uncertainties of the lake. I therefore unwillingly resolved to
terminate our survey here, and remain satisfied for the present with
what we had been able to add to the unknown geography of the region. We
felt pleasure, also, in remembering that we were the first who, in the
traditionary annals of the country, had visited the islands, and
broken, with the cheerful sound of human voices, the long solitude of
the place. From the point where we were standing, the ground fell off
on every side to the water, giving us a perfect view of the island,
which is twelve or thirteen miles in circumference, being simply a
rocky hill, on which there is neither water nor trees of any kind;
although the _Fremontia vermicularis_, which was in great abundance,
might easily be taken for timber at a distance. The plant seemed here
to delight in a congenial air, growing in extraordinary luxuriance
seven to eight feet high, and was very abundant on the upper parts of
the island, where it was almost the only plant. This is eminently a
saline shrub; its leaves have a salt taste; and it luxuriates in saline
soils, where it is usually a characteristic. It is widely diffused over
all this country. A chenopodiaceous shrub, which is a new species of
OBIONE, (O. rigida, _Torr. and Frem_.,) was equally characteristic of
the lower parts of the island. These two are the striking plants on the
island, and belong to a class of plants which form a prominent feature
in the vegetation of this country. On the lower parts of the island,
also, a prickly pear of very large size was frequent. On the shore,
near the water, was a woolly species of _phaca_; and a new species of
umbelliferous plant (_leptotæmia_) was scattered about in very
considerable abundance. These constituted all the vegetation that now
appeared upon the island.

I accidentally left on the summit the brass cover to the object end of
my spy-glass: and as it will probably remain there undisturbed by
Indians, it will furnish matter of speculation to some future traveler.
In our excursions about the island, we did not meet with any kind of
animal; a magpie, and another larger bird, probably attracted by the
smoke of our fire, paid us a visit from the shore, and were the only
living things seen during our stay. The rock constituting the cliffs
along the shore, where we were encamped, is a talcous rock, or
steatite, with brown spar.

At sunset, the temperature was 70°. We had arrived just in time to
obtain a meridian altitude of the sun, and other observations were
obtained this evening, which placed our camp in latitude 41° 10' 42",
and longitude 112° 21' 05" from Greenwich. From a discussion of the
barometrical observations made during our stay on the shores of the
lake, we have adopted 4,200 feet for its elevation above the Gulf of
Mexico. In the first disappointment we felt from the dissipation of our
dream of the fertile islands, I called this _Disappointment island_.

Out of the drift-wood, we made ourselves pleasant little lodges, open
to the water; and, after having kindled large fires to excite the
wonder of any straggling savage on the lake shores, lay down, for the
first time in a long journey, in perfect security; no one thinking
about his arms. The evening was extremely bright and pleasant; but the
wind rose during the night, and the waves began to break heavily on the
shore, making our island tremble. I had not expected in our inland
journey to hear the roar of an ocean surf; and the strangeness of our
situation, and the excitement we felt in the associated interest of the
place, made this one of the most interesting nights I made during our
long expedition.

In the morning, the surf was breaking heavily on the shore, and we were
up early. The lake was dark and agitated, and we hurried through our
scanty breakfast, and embarked--having first filled one of the buckets
with water from the lake, of which it was intended to make salt. The
sun had risen by the time we were ready to start; and it was blowing a
strong gale of wind, almost directly off the shore, and raising a
considerable sea, in which our boat strained very much. It roughened as
we got away from the island, and it required all the efforts of the men
to make any head against the wind and sea, the gale rising with the
sun; and there was danger of being blown into one of the open reaches
beyond the island. At the distance of half a mile from the beach, the
depth of the water was 16 feet, with a clay bottom; but, as the working
of the boat was very severe labor, and during the operation of sounding
it was necessary to cease paddling, during which the boat lost
considerable way, I was unwilling to discourage the men, and
reluctantly gave up my intention of ascertaining the depth and the
character of the bed. There was a general shout in the boat when we
found ourselves in one fathom, and we soon after landed on a low point
of mud, immediately under the butte of the peninsula, where we unloaded
the boat, and carried the baggage about a quarter of a mile to firmer
ground. We arrived just in time for meridian observation, and carried
the barometer to the summit of the butte, which is 500 feet above the
lake. Mr. Preuss set off on foot for the camp, which was about nine
miles distant; Basil accompanying him, to bring back horses for the
boat and baggage.

The rude-looking shelter we raised on the shore, our scattered baggage
and boat lying on the beach, made quite a picture; and we called this
the _Fisherman's camp_. _Lynosiris graveolens_, and another new species
of OBIONE, (O. confertifolia--_Torr. & Frem_.,) were growing on the low
grounds, with interspersed spots of an unwholesome salt grass, on a
saline clay soil, with a few other plants.

The horses arrived late in the afternoon, by which time the gale had
increased to such a height that a man could scarcely stand before it;
and we were obliged to pack our baggage hastily, as the rising water of
the lake had already reached the point where we were halted. Looking
back as we rode off, we found the place of recent encampment entirely
covered. The low plain through which we rode to the camp was covered
with a compact growth of shrubs of extraordinary size and luxuriance.
The soil was sandy and saline; flat places, resembling the beds of
ponds, that were bare of vegetation, and covered with a powdery white
salt, being interspersed among the shrubs. Artemisia tridentata was
very abundant, but the plants were principally saline; a large and
vigorous chenopodiaceous shrub, five to eight feet high, being
characteristic, with Fremontia vermicularis, and a shrubby plant which
seems to be a new _salicornia_. We reached the camp in time to escape a
thunder-storm which blackened the sky, and were received with a
discharge of the howitzer by the people, who, having been unable to see
any thing of us on the lake, had begun to feel some uneasiness.

11th.--To-day we remained at this camp, in order to obtain some further
observations, and to boil down the water which had been brought from
the lake, for a supply of salt. Roughly evaporated over the fire, the
five gallons of water yielded fourteen pints of very fine-grained and
very white salt, of which the whole lake may be regarded as a saturated
solution. A portion of the salt thus obtained has been subjected to
analysis, giving, in 100 parts, the following proportions.

                Analysis of the salt.

Chloride of sodium, (common salt,) --- 97.80 Chloride of calcium,
-----------------  0.61 Chloride of magnesium, ---------------  0.24
Sulphate of soda, --------------------  0.23 Sulphate of lime,
--------------------  1.12
                                      ______
                                      100.00

Glancing your eye along the map, you will see a small stream entering
_Utah lake_, south of the Spanish fork, and the first waters of that
lake which our road of 1844 crosses in coming up from the southward.
When I was on this stream with Mr. Walker in that year, he informed me
that on the upper part of the river are immense beds of rock-salt of
very great thickness, which he had frequently visited. Farther to the
southward, the rivers which are affluent to the Colorado, such as the
Rio Virgen, and Gila river, near their mouths, are impregnated with
salt by the cliffs of rock-salt between which they pass. These mines
occur in the same ridge in which, about 120 miles to the northward, and
subsequently in their more immediate neighborhood, we discovered the
fossils belonging to the oolitic period, and they are probably
connected with that formation, and are the deposite from which the
Great Lake obtains its salt. Had we remained longer, we should have
found them in its bed, and in the mountains around its shores. By
observation the latitude of this camp is 41° 15' 50", and longitude
112° 06" 43".

The observations made during our stay give for the rate of the
chronometer 31.72", corresponding almost exactly with the rate obtained
at St. Vrain's fort. Barometrical observations were made almost hourly
during the day. This morning we breakfasted on yampah, and had only
kamas for supper; but a cup of good coffee still distinguished us from
our _Digger_ acquaintances.

12th.--The morning was clear and calm, with a temperature at sunrise of
32°. We resumed our journey late in the day, returning by nearly the
same route which we had traveled in coming to the lake; and, avoiding
the passage of Hawthorn creek, struck the hills a little below the hot
salt-springs. The flat plain we had here passed over consisted
alternately of tolerably good sandy soil and of saline plats. We
encamped early on Clear creek, at the foot of the high ridge; one of
the peaks of which we ascertained by measurement to be 4,210 feet above
the lake, or about 8,400 feet above the sea. Behind these front peaks
the ridge rises towards the Bear River mountains, which are probably as
high as the Wind River chain. This creek is here unusually well
timbered with a variety of trees. Among them were birch, (_betula_,)
the narrow-leaved poplar, (_populus angustifolia_,) several kinds of
willow, (_solix_,) hawthorn, (_cratægus_,) alder, (_alnus viridis_,)
and _cerasus_, with an oak allied to _quercus alba_, but very distinct
from that or any other species in the United States.

We had to-night a supper of sea-gulls, which Carson killed near the
lake. Although cool, the thermometer standing at 47°, musquitoes were
sufficiently numerous to be troublesome this evening.

13th.--Continuing up the river valley, we crossed several small
streams; the mountains on the right appearing to consist of the blue
limestone which we had observed in the same ridge to the northward,
alternating here with a granular quartz already mentioned. One of these
streams, which forms a smaller lake near the river, was broken up into
several channels; and the irrigated bottom of fertile soil was covered
with innumerable flowers, among which were purple fields of _eupatorium
purpureum_, with helianthi, a handsome solidago, (_S. canadensis_,) and
a variety of other plants in bloom. Continuing along the foot of the
hills, in the afternoon we found five or six hot-springs gushing out
together, beneath a conglomerate, consisting principally of fragments
of a grayish-blue limestone, efflorescing a salt upon the surface. The
temperature of these springs was 134°, and the rocks in the bed were
colored with a red deposite, and there was common salt crystallized on
the margin. There was also a white incrustation upon leaves and roots,
consisting principally of carbonate of lime. There were rushes seen
along the road this afternoon, and the soil under the hills was very
black, and apparently very good; but at this time the grass is entirely
dried up. We encamped on Bear river, immediately below a cut-off, the
canon by which the river enters this valley bearing north by compass.
The night was mild, with a very clear sky; and I obtained a very
excellent observation of an occultation of Tau. Arietis, with other
observations. Both immersion and emersion of the star were observed;
but, as our observations have shown, the phase at the bright limb
generally gives incorrect longitudes, and we have adopted the result
obtained from the emersion at the dark limb, without allowing any
weight to the immersion. According to these observations, the longitude
is 112° 05' 12", and the latitude 41° 42' 43". All the longitudes on
the line of our outward journey, between St. Vrain's fort and the
Dalles of the Columbia, which were not directly determined by
satellites, have been chronometrically referred to this place.

The people to-day were rather low-spirited, hunger making them very
quiet and peaceable; and there was rarely an oath to be heard in the
camp--not even a solitary _enfant de garce_. It was time for the men
with an expected supply of provisions from Mr. Fitzpatrick to be in the
neighborhood; and the gun was fired at evening, to give notice of our
locality, but met with no response.

14th.--About four miles from this encampment, the trail led us down to
the river, where we unexpectedly found an excellent ford--the stream
being widened by an island, and not yet disengaged from the hills at
the foot of the range. We encamped on a little creek where we had made
a noon halt in descending the river. The night was very clear and
pleasant, the sunset temperature being 67°.

The people this evening looked so forlorn, that I gave them permission
to kill a fat young horse which I had purchased with goods from the
Snake Indians, and they were very soon restored to gayety and good
humor. Mr. Preuss and myself could not yet overcome some remains of
civilized prejudices, and preferred to starve a little longer; feeling
as much saddened as if a crime had been committed.

The next day we continued up the valley, the soil being sometimes very
black and good, occasionally gravelly, and occasionally a kind of naked
salt plains. We found on the way this morning a small encampment of two
families of Snake Indians, from whom we purchased a small quantity of
_kooyah_. They had piles of seeds, of three different kinds, spread out
upon pieces of buffalo robe; and the squaws had just gathered about a
bushel of the root of a thistle, (_circium Virginianum_.) They were
about the ordinary size of carrots, and, as I have previously
mentioned, are sweet and well flavored, requiring only a long
preparation. They had a band of twelve or fifteen horses, and appeared
to be growing in the sunshine with about as little labor as the plants
they were eating.

Shortly afterwards we met an Indian on horseback who had killed an
antelope, which we purchased of him for a little powder and some balls.
We crossed the Roseaux, and encamped on the left bank; halting early
for the pleasure of enjoying a wholesome and abundant supper, and were
pleasantly engaged in protracting our unusual comfort, when Tabeau
galloped into the camp with news that Mr. Fitzpatrick was encamped
close by us, with a good supply of provisions--flour, rice, and dried
meat, and even a little butter. Excitement to-night made us all
wakeful; and after a breakfast before sunrise the next morning, we were
again on the road, and, continuing up the valley, crossed some high
points of hills, and halted to noon on the same stream, near several
lodges of Snake Indians, from whom we purchased about a bushel of
service-berries, partially dried. By the gift of a knife, I prevailed
upon a little boy to show me the _kooyah_ plant, which proved to be
_valeriana edulis_. The root which constitutes the _kooyah_, is large,
of a very bright yellow color, with the characteristic odor, but not so
fully developed as in the prepared substance. It loves the rich moist
soil of river bottoms, which was the locality in which I always
afterwards found it. It was now entirely out of bloom; according to my
observation, flowering in the months of May and June. In the afternoon
we entered a long ravine leading to a pass in the dividing ridge
between the waters of Bear river and the Snake river, or Lewis's fork
of the Columbia; our way being very much impeded, and almost entirely
blocked up, by compact fields of luxuriant artemisia. Taking leave at
this point of the waters of Bear river, and of the geographical basin
which encloses the system of rivers and creeks which belong to the
Great Salt Lake, and which so richly deserves a future detailed and
ample exploration, I can say of it, in general terms, that the bottoms
of this river, (Bear,) and of some of the creeks which I saw, form a
natural resting and recruiting station for travelers, now, and in all
time to come. The bottoms are extensive; water excellent; timber
sufficient; the soil good, and well adapted to grains and grasses
suited to such an elevated region. A military post, and a civilized
settlement, would be of great value here; grass and salt so much
abound. The lake will furnish exhaustless supplies of salt. All the
mountains here are covered with a valuable nutritious grass, called
bunch-grass, from the form in which it grows, which has a second growth
in the fall. The beasts of the Indians were fat upon it; our own found
it a good subsistence; and its quantity will sustain any amount of
cattle, and make this truly a bucolic region.

We met here an Indian family on horseback, which had been out to gather
service-berries, and were returning loaded. This tree was scattered
about on the hills; and the upper part of the pass was timbered with
aspen, (_populus trem._;) the common blue flowering-flax occurring
among the plants. The approach to the pass was very steep, and the
summit about 6,300 feet above the sea--probably only an uncertain
approximation, as at the time of observation it was blowing a violent
gale of wind from the northwest, with _cumuli_ scattered in masses over
the sky, the day otherwise bright and clear. We descended, by a steep
slope, into a broad open valley--good soil--from four to five miles
wide, coming down immediately upon one of the head-waters of the
Pannack river, which here loses itself in swampy ground. The appearance
of the country here is not very interesting. On either side is a
regular range of mountains of the usual character, with a little
timber, tolerably rocky on the right, and higher and more smooth on the
left, with still higher peaks looking out above the range. The valley
afforded a good level road, but it was late when it brought us to
water, and we encamped at dark. The north-west wind had blown up very
cold weather, and the artemisia, which was our firewood to-night, did
not happen to be very abundant. This plant loves a dry, sandy soil, and
cannot grow in the good bottoms where it is rich and moist, but on
every little eminence, where water does not rest long, it maintains
absolute possession. Elevation above the sea about 5,100 feet.

At night scattered fires glimmered along the mountains, pointing out
camps of the Indians; and we contrasted the comparative security in
which we traveled through this country with the guarded vigilance we
were compelled to exert among the Sioux and other Indians on the
eastern side of the Rocky mountains.

At sunset the thermometer was at 50°, and at midnight at 30°.

17th.--The morning sky was calm and clear, the temperature at daylight
being 25°, and at sunrise 20°. There is throughout this country a
remarkable difference between the morning and mid-day temperatures,
which at this season was very generally 40° or 50°, and occasionally
greater; and frequently, after a very frosty morning, the heat in a few
hours would render the thinnest clothing agreeable. About noon we
reached the main fork. The Pannack river was before us, the valley
being here 11/2 miles wide, fertile, and bordered by smooth hills, not
over 500 feet high, partly covered with cedar; a high ridge, in which
there is a prominent peak, rising behind those on the left. We
continued to descend this stream, and found on it at night a warm and
comfortable camp. Flax occurred so frequently during the day as to be
almost a characteristic, and the soil appeared excellent. The evening
was gusty, with a temperature at sunset of 59°. I obtained, about
midnight, an observation of an emersion of the first satellite, the
night being calm and very clear, the stars remarkably bright, and the
thermometer at 30°. Longitude, from mean of satellite and chronometer,
112° 29' 52", and latitude, by observation, 42° 44' 40".

18th.--The day clear and calm, with a temperature of 25° at sunrise.
After traveling seven or eight miles, we emerged on the plains of the
Columbia, in sight of the famous "_Three Buttes_," a well-known
landmark in the country, distant about 45 miles. The French word
_butte_, which so often occurs in this narrative, is retained from the
familiar language of the country, and identifies the objects to which
it refers. It is naturalized in the region of the Rocky mountains, and,
even if desirable to render it in English, I know of no word which
would be its precise equivalent. It is applied to the detached hills
and ridges which rise rapidly, and reach too high to be called hills or
ridges, and not high enough to be called mountains. _Knob_, as applied
in the western states, is their descriptive term in English. _Cerro_ is
the Spanish term; but no translation, or periphrasis, would preserve
the identity of these picturesque landmarks, familiar to the traveler,
and often seen at a great distance. Covered as far as could be seen
with artemisia, the dark and ugly appearance of this plain obtained for
it the name of _Sage Desert_; and we were agreeably surprised, on
reaching the Portneuf river, to see a beautiful green valley with
scattered timber spread out beneath us, on which, about four miles
distant, were glistening the white walls of the fort. The Portneuf runs
along the upland plain nearly to its mouth, and an abrupt descent of
perhaps two hundred feet brought us down immediately upon the stream,
which at the ford is one hundred yards wide, and three feet deep, with
clear water, a swift current, and gravelly bed; but a little higher up
the breadth was only about thirty-five yards, with apparently deep
water.

In the bottom I remarked a very great number of springs and sloughs,
with remarkably clear water and gravel beds. At sunset we encamped with
Mr. Talbot and our friends, who came on to Fort Hall when we went to
the lake, and whom we had the satisfaction to find all well, neither
party having met with any mischance in the interval of our separation.
They, too, had had their share of fatigue and scanty provisions, as
there had been very little game left on the trail of the populous
emigration; and Mr. Fitzpatrick had rigidly husbanded our stock of
flour and light provisions, in view of the approaching winter and the
long journey before us.

19th.--This morning the sky was very dark and gloomy, and at daylight
it began snowing thickly, and continued all day, with cold,
disagreeable weather. At sunrise the temperature was 43°. I rode up to
the fort, and purchased from Mr. Grant (the officer in charge of the
post) several very indifferent horses, and five oxen, in very fine
order, which were received at the camp with great satisfaction: and,
one being killed at evening, the usual gayety and good humor were at
once restored. Night came in stormy.

20th.--We had a night of snow and rain, and the thermometer at sunrise
was at 34°; the morning was dark, with a steady rain, and there was
still an inch of snow on the ground, with an abundance on the
neighboring hills and mountains. The sudden change in the weather was
hard for our animals, who trembled and shivered in the cold--sometimes
taking refuge in the timber, and now and then coming out and raking the
snow off the ground for a little grass, or eating the young willows.

21st.--Ice made tolerably thick during this night, and in the morning
the weather cleared up very bright, with a temperature at sunrise of
29°; and I obtained a meridian observation for latitude at the fort,
with observations for time. The sky was again covered in the afternoon,
and the thermometer at sunset 48°.

22d.--The morning was cloudy and unpleasant, and at sunrise a cold rain
commenced, with a temperature of 41°.

The early approach of winter, and the difficulty of supporting a large
party, determined me to send back a number of the men who had become
satisfied that they were not fitted for the laborious service and
frequent privation to which they were necessarily exposed, and which
there was reason to believe would become more severe in the further
extension of the voyage. I accordingly called them together, and,
informing them of my intention to continue our journey during the
ensuing winter, in the course of which they would probably be exposed
to considerable hardship, succeeded in prevailing on a number of them
to return voluntarily. These were: Charles de Forrest, Henry Lee, J.
Campbell, Wm. Creuss, A. Vasquez; A. Pera, Patrick White, B. Tesson, M.
Creely, François Lajeunesse, Basil Lajeunesse. Among these I regretted
very much to lose Basil Lajeunesse, one of the best men in my party,
who was obliged, by the condition of his family, to be at home in the
coming winter. Our preparations having been completed in the interval
of our stay here, both parties were ready this morning to resume their
respective routes.

Except that there is a greater quantity of wood used in its
construction, Fort Hall very much resembles the other trading posts
which have already been described to you, and would be another
excellent post of relief for the emigration. It is in the low rich
bottom of a valley, apparently 20 miles long, formed by the confluence
of Portneuf river with Lewis's fork of the Columbia, which it enters
about nine miles below the fort, and narrowing gradually to the mouth
of the Pannack river, where it has a breadth of only two or three
miles. Allowing 50 miles for the road from the _Beer springs_ of Bear
river to Fort Hall, its distance along the _traveled_ road from the
town of Westport, on the frontier of Missouri, by way of Fort Laramie
and the great South Pass, is 1,323 miles. Beyond this place, on the
line of road along the _barren_ valley of the Upper Columbia, there
does not occur, for a distance of nearly 300 miles to the westward, a
fertile spot of ground sufficiently large to produce the necessary
quantity of grain, or pasturage enough to allow even a temporary repose
to the emigrants. On their recent passage, they had been able to
obtain, at very high prices and in insufficient quantity, only such
assistance as could be afforded by a small and remote trading-post--and
that a foreign one--which, in the supply of its own wants, had
necessarily drawn around it some of the resources of civilization, but
which obtained nearly all its supplies from the distant depot of
Vancouver, by a difficult water-carriage of 250 miles up the Columbia
river, and a land-carriage by pack-horses of 600 miles. An American
military post, sufficiently strong to give to their road a perfect
security against the Indian tribes, who are unsettled in locality and
very _uncertain_ in their disposition, and which, with the necessary
facilities for the repair of their equipage, would be able to afford
them relief in stock and grain from the produce of the post, would be
of extraordinary value to the emigration. Such a post (and all others
which may be established on the line to Oregon) would naturally form
the _nucleus_ of a settlement, at which supplies and repose would be
obtained by the emigrant, or trading caravans, which may hereafter
traverse these elevated, and, in many places, desolate and inhospitable
regions.

I subjoin an analysis of the soil in the river bottom near Fort Hall,
which will be of assistance in enabling you to form some correct idea
of its general character in the neighboring country. I characterize it
as good land, but the analysis will show its precise properties.

     _Analysis of the Soil_.

Silicina ----------------- 68.55 Alumina ------------------- 7.45
Carbonate of lime --------- 8.51 Carbonate of magnesia ----- 5.09 Oxide
of iron ------------- 1.40 Organic vegetable matter -- 4.74 Water and
loss  ----------- 4.26
                          ______

                          100.00

Our observations place this post in longitude 112° 29' 54", latitude
43° 01' 30", and the elevation above the sea, 4,500 feet.

Taking leave of the homeward party, we resumed our journey down the
valley, the weather being very cold, and the rain coming in hard gusts,
which the wind blew directly in our faces. We forded the Portneuf in a
storm of rain, the water in the river being frequently up to the axles,
and about 110 yards wide. After the gust, the weather improved a
little, and we encamped about three miles below, at the mouth of the
Pannack river, on Lewis's fork, which here has a breadth of about 120
yards. The temperature at sunset was 42°; the sky partially covered
with dark, rainy clouds.

23d.--The temperature at sunrise was 32°; the morning dark, and snow
falling steadily and thickly, with a light air from the southward.
Profited of being obliged to remain in camp, to take hourly
barometrical observations from sunrise to midnight. The wind at eleven
o'clock set in from the north-ward in heavy gusts, and the snow changed
into rain. In the afternoon, when the sky brightened, the rain had
washed all the snow from the bottoms; but the neighboring mountains,
from summit to foot, were luminously white--an inauspicious
commencement of the autumn, of which this was the first day.

24th.--The thermometer at sunrise was 35°, and a blue sky in the west
promised a fine day. The river bottoms here are narrow and swampy, with
frequent sloughs; and after crossing the Pannack, the road continued
along the uplands, rendered very slippery by the soil of wet clay, and
entirely covered with artemisia bushes, among which occur frequent
fragments of obsidian. At noon we encamped in a grove of willows, at
the upper end of a group of islands about half a mile above the
_American falls_ of Snake river. Among the willows here, were some
bushes of Lewis and Clarke's currant, (_ribes aureum_.) The river here
enters between low mural banks, which consist of a fine vesicular
trap-rock, the intermediate portions being compact and crystalline.
Gradually becoming higher in its downward course, these banks of
scoriated volcanic rock form, with occasional interruptions, its
characteristic feature along the whole line to the Dalles of the Lower
Columbia, resembling a chasm which had been rent through the country,
and which the river had afterwards taken for its bed. The immediate
valley of the river is a high plain covered with black rocks and
artemisias. In the south is a bordering range of mountains, which,
although not very high, are broken and covered with snow; and at a
great distance to the north is seen the high, snowy line of the Salmon
river mountains, in front of which stand out prominently in the plain
the three isolated rugged-looking mountains commonly known as the
_Three Buttes_. Between the river and the distant Salmon river range,
the plain is represented by Mr. Fitzpatrick as so entirely broken up
and rent into chasms as to be impracticable for a man even on foot. In
the sketch annexed, the point of view is low, but it conveys very well
some idea of the open character of the country, with the buttes rising
out above the general line. By measurement, the river above is 870 feet
wide, immediately contracted at the fall in the form of a lock, by
jutting piles of scoriaceous basalt, over which the foaming river must
present a grand appearance at the time of high water. The evening was
clear and pleasant, with dew; and at sunset the temperature was 54°. By
observation, the latitude is 42° 47' 05", and the longitude 112° 40'
13". A few hundred yards below the falls, and on the left bank of the
river is an escarpment from which we obtained some specimens.

25th.--Thermometer at sunrise 47°. The day came in clear, with a strong
gale from the south, which commenced at eleven of the last night. The
road to-day led along the river which is full of rapids and small
falls. Grass is very scanty and along the rugged banks are scattered
cedars, with an abundance of rocks and sage. We traveled fourteen
miles, and encamped in the afternoon near the river, on a rocky creek,
the bed of which was entirely occupied with boulders of a very large
size. For the last three or four miles the right bank of the river has
a palisaded appearance. One of the oxen was killed here for food. The
thermometer at evening was at 55°, the sky almost overcast, and the
barometer indicated an elevation of 4,400 feet.

26th.--Rain during the night, and the temperature at sunrise 42°.
Traveling along the river, in about four miles we reached a picturesque
stream, to which we gave the name of Fall creek. It is remarkable for
the many falls which occur in a short distance; and its bed is composed
of a calcareous tufa, or vegetable rock, composed principally of the
remains of reeds and mosses, resembling that at the _Basin spring_, on
Bear river.

The road along the river bluffs had been occasionally very bad; and
imagining that some rough obstacles rendered such a detour necessary,
we followed for several miles a plain wagon-road leading up this
stream, until we reached a point whence it could be seen making
directly towards a low place in the range on the south side of the
valley, and we became immediately aware that we were on a trail formed
by a party of wagons, in company with whom we had encamped at Elm
grove, near the frontier of Missouri, and which you will remember were
proceeding to Upper California under the direction of Mr. Jos. Chiles.
At the time of their departure, no practicable passes were known in the
southern Rocky mountains within the territory of the United States; and
the probable apprehension of difficulty in attempting to pass near the
settled frontier of New Mexico, together with the desert character of
the unexplored region beyond, had induced them to take a more northern
and circuitous route by way of the Sweet Water pass and Fort Hall. They
had still between them and the valley of the Sacramento a great mass of
mountains, forming the _Sierra Nevada_, here commonly known as the
_Great California mountain_, and which were at this time considered as
presenting an impracticable barrier to wheeled-carriages. Various
considerations had suggested to them a division of the party; and a
greater portion of the camp, including the wagons, with the mail and
other stores, were now proceeding under the guidance of Mr. Joseph
Walker, who had engaged to conduct them, by a long sweep to the
southward, around what is called the _point of the mountain_; and,
crossing through a pass known only to himself, gain the banks of the
Sacramento by the valley of the San Joaquin. It was a long and a
hazardous journey for a party in which there were women and children.
Sixty days was the shortest period of time in which they could reach
the point of the mountain, and their route lay through a country
inhabited by wild and badly-disposed Indians, and very poor in game;
but the leader was a man possessing great and intimate knowledge of the
Indians, with an extraordinary firmness and decision of character. In
the mean time, Mr. Chiles had passed down the Columbia with a party of
ten or twelve men, with the intention of reaching the settlements on
the Sacramento by a more direct course, which indefinite information
from hunters had indicated in the direction of the head-waters of the
_Rivière aux Malheurs_; and having obtained there a reinforcement of
animals, and a supply of provisions, meet the wagons before they should
have reached the point of the mountain, at a place which had been
previously agreed upon. In the course of our narrative, we shall be
able to give you some information of the fortunes which attended the
movements of these adventurous travelers.

Having discovered our error, we immediately regained the line along the
river, which the road quitted about noon, and encamped at five o'clock
on the stream called Raft river, (_Rivière aux Cajeux_,) having
traveled only 13 miles. In the north, the Salmon River mountains are
visible at a very far distance; and on the left, the ridge in which
Raft river heads is about 20 miles distant, rocky, and tolerably high.
Thermometer at sunset 44°, with a partially clouded sky, and a sharp
wind from the S.W.

27th.--It was now no longer possible, as in our previous journey, to
travel regularly every day, and find at any moment a convenient place
for repose at noon or a camp at night; but the halting-places were now
generally fixed along the road, by the nature of the country, at places
where, with water, there was a little scanty grass. Since leaving the
American falls, the road had frequently been very bad; the many short,
steep ascents, exhausting the strength of our worn-out animals,
requiring always at such places the assistance of the men to get up
each cart, one by one; and our progress with twelve or fourteen
wheeled-carriages, though light and made for the purpose, in such a
rocky country, was extremely slow; and I again determined to gain time
by a division of the camp. Accordingly, to-day, the parties again
separated, constituted very much as before--Mr. Fitzpatrick remaining
in charge of the heavier baggage.

The morning was calm and clear, with a white frost, and the temperature
at sunrise 24°.

To-day the country had a very forbidding appearance; and, after
traveling 20 miles over a slightly undulating plain, we encamped at a
considerable spring, called Swamp creek, rising in low grounds near the
point of a spur from the mountain. Returning with a small party in a
starving condition from the westward 12 or 14 years since, Carson had
met here three or four buffalo bulls, two of which were killed. They
were among the pioneers which had made the experiment of colonizing in
the valley of the Columbia, and which had failed, as heretofore stated.
At sunset the thermometer was at 46°, and the evening was overcast,
with a cool wind from the S.E., and to-night we had only sage for
firewood. Mingled with the artemisia was a shrubby and thorny
chenopodiaceous plant.

28th.-Thermometer at sunrise 40°. The wind rose early to a gale from
the west, with a very cold driving rain; and, after an uncomfortable
day's ride of 25 miles, we, were glad when at evening we found a
sheltered camp, where there was an abundance of wood, at some elevated
rocky islands covered with cedar, near the commencement of another long
canon of the river. With the exception of a short detention at a deep
little stream called Goose creek, and some occasional rocky places, we
had to-day a very good road; but the country has a barren appearance,
sandy, and densely covered with the artemisias from the banks of the
river to the foot of the mountains. Here I remarked, among the sage
bushes, green bunches of what is called the second growth of grass. The
river to-day has had a smooth appearance, free from rapids, with a low
sandy hill-slope bordering the bottoms, in which there is a little good
soil. Thermometer at sunset 45°, blowing a gale, and disagreeably cold.

29th.--The thermometer at sunrise 36°, with a bright sun, and
appearance of finer weather. The road for several miles was _extremely_
rocky, and consequently bad; but, entering after this a sandy country,
it became very good, with no other interruption than the sage bushes,
which covered the river plain as far as the eye could reach, and, with
their uniform tint of dark gray, gave to the country a gloomy and
sombre appearance. All the day the course of the river has been between
walls of the black volcanic rock, a dark line of the escarpment on the
opposite side pointing out its course, and sweeping along in foam at
places where the mountains which border the valley present always on
the left two ranges, the lower one a spur of the higher; and, on the
opposite side, the Salmon River mountains are visible at a great
distance. Having made 24 miles, we encamped about five o'clock on Rock
creek--a stream having considerable water, a swift current, and wooded
with willow.

30th.--Thermometer at sunrise 28°. In its progress towards the river,
this creek soon enters a chasm of the volcanic rock, which in places
along the wall presents a columnar appearance; and the road becomes
extremely rocky whenever it passes near its banks. It is only about
twenty feet wide where the road crosses it, with a deep bed, and steep
banks, covered with rocky fragments, with willows and a little grass on
its narrow bottom. The soil appears to be full of calcareous matter,
with which the rocks are incrusted. The fragments of rock which had
been removed by the emigrants in making a road, where we ascended from
the bed of this creek, were whitened with lime; and during the
afternoon's march I remarked in the soil a considerably quantity of
calcareous concretions. Towards evening the sages became more sparse,
and the clear spaces were occupied by tufts of green grass. The river
still continued its course through a trough, or open canon; and towards
sunset we followed the trail of several wagons which had turned in
towards Snake river, and encamped, as they had done, on the top of the
escarpment. There was no grass here, the soil among the sage being
entirely naked; but there is occasionally a little bottom along the
river, which a short ravine of rocks, at rare intervals, leaves
accessible; and by one of these we drove our animals down, and found
some tolerably good grass bordering the water.

Immediately opposite to us, a subterranean river bursts out directly
from the face of the escarpment, and falls in white foam to the river
below. The main river is enclosed with mural precipices, which form its
characteristic feature along a great portion of its course. A
melancholy and strange-looking country--one of fracture, and violence,
and fire.

We had brought with us, when we separated from the camp, a large gaunt
ox, in appearance very poor; but, being killed to-night, to the great
joy of the people, he was found to be remarkably fat. As usual at such
occurrences, the evening was devoted to gayety and feasting; abundant
fare now made an epoch among us; and in this laborious life, in such a
country as this, our men had but little else to enjoy. The temperature
at sunset was 65°, with a clear sky and a very high wind. By the
observation of the evening, the encampment was in longitude 114° 25'
04", and in latitude 42° 38' 44".



OCTOBER.


1st.--The morning clear, with wind from the west, and the thermometer
at 55°. We descended to the bottoms, taking with us the boat, for the
purpose of visiting the fall in the opposite cliffs; and while it was
being filled with air, we occupied ourselves in measuring the river,
which is 1,786 feet in breadth, with banks 200 feet high. We were
surprised, on our arrival at the opposite side, to find a beautiful
basin of clear water, formed by the falling river, around which the
rocks were whitened by some saline incrustation. Here the Indians had
constructed wicker dams, although I was informed that the salmon do not
ascend the river so far; and its character below would apparently
render it impracticable.

The ascent of the steep hill-side was rendered a little difficult by a
dense growth of shrubs and fields of cane; and there were frequent
hidden crevices among the rocks, where the water was heard rushing
below; but we succeeded in reaching the main stream, which, issuing
from between strata of the trap-rock in two principal branches,
produced almost immediately a torrent, 22 feet wide, and white with
foam. It is a picturesque spot of singular beauty, overshadowed by
bushes, from under which the torrent glances, tumbling into the white
basin below, where the clear water contrasted beautifully with the
muddy stream of the river. Its outlet was covered with a rank growth of
canes, and a variety of unusual plants, and nettles, (_urtica
canabina_,) which, before they were noticed, had set our hands and arms
on fire. The temperature of the spring was 58°, while that of the river
was 51°. The perpendicular height of the place at which this stream
issues is 45 feet above the river, and 162 feet below the summit of the
precipice--making nearly 200 feet for the height of the wall. On the
hill-side here was obtained a specimen consisting principally of
fragments of the shells of small crustacea, and which was probably
formed by deposition from these springs, proceeding from some lake or
river in the highlands above.

We resumed our journey at noon, the day being hot and bright; and,
after a march of 17 miles, encamped at sunset on the river, near
several lodges of Snake Indians.

Our encampment was about one mile below the _Fishing falls_--a series
of cataracts with very inclined planes, which are probably so named
because they form a barrier to the ascent of the salmon; and the great
fisheries, from which the inhabitants of this barren region almost
entirely derive a subsistence, commence at this place. These appeared
to be unusually gay savages, fond of loud laughter; and, in their
apparent good nature and merry character, struck me as being entirely
different from the Indians we had been accustomed to see. From several
who visited our camp in the evening, we purchased, in exchange for
goods, dried salmon. At this season they are not very fat, but we were
easily pleased. The Indians made us comprehend, that when the salmon
came up the river in the spring, they are so abundant that they merely
throw in their spears at random, certain of bringing out a fish.

These poor people are but slightly provided with winter clothing; there
is but little game to furnish skins for the purpose; and of a little
animal which seemed to be the most numerous, it required 20 skins to
make a covering to the knees. But they are still a joyous, talkative
race, who grow fat and become poor with the salmon, which at least
never fail them--the dried being used in the absence of the fresh. We
are encamped immediately on the river bank, and with the salmon jumping
up out of the water, and Indians paddling about in boats made of
rushes, or laughing around the fires, the camp to-night has quite a
lively appearance.

The river at this place is more open than for some distance above, and,
for the time, the black precipices have disappeared, and no calcareous
matter is visible in the soil. The thermometer at sunset 74°, clear and
calm.

2d.--The sunrise temperature was 48°; the weather clear and calm.
Shortly after leaving the encampment, we crossed a stream of clear
water, with a variable breadth of 10 to 25 yards, broken by rapids, and
lightly wooded with willow, and having a little grass on its small
bottom-land. The barrenness of the country is in fine contrast to-day
with the mingled beauty and grandeur of the river, which is more open
than hitherto, with a constant succession of falls and rapids. Over the
edge of the black cliffs, and out from their faces, are falling
numberless streams and springs; and all the line of the river is in
motion with the play of the water. In about seven miles we reached the
most beautiful and picturesque fall I had seen on the river.

On the opposite side, the vertical fall is perhaps 18 feet high; and
nearer, the sheet of foaming water is divided and broken into
cataracts, where several little islands on the brink and in the river
above, give it much picturesque beauty, and make it one of those places
the traveler turns again and again to fix in his memory. There were
several lodges of Indians here, from whom we traded salmon. Below this
place the river makes a remarkable bend; and the road, ascending the
ridge, gave us a fine view of the river below, intersected at many
places by numerous fish dams. In the north, about 50 miles distant,
were some high snowy peaks of the Salmon River mountains; and in the
northeast, the last peak of the range was visible at the distance of
perhaps 100 miles or more. The river hills consist of very broken
masses of sand, covered everywhere with the same interminable fields of
sage, and occasionally the road is very heavy. We now frequently saw
Indians, who were strung along the river at every little rapid where
fish are to be caught, and the cry _haggai, haggai_, (fish,) was
constantly heard whenever we passed near their huts, or met them in the
road. Very many of them were oddly and partially dressed in overcoat,
shirt, waistcoat, or pantaloons, or whatever article of clothing they
had been able to procure in trade from the emigrants; for we had now
entirely quitted the country where hawks' bells, beads, and vermilion
were the current coin, and found that here only useful articles, and
chiefly clothing, were in great request. These, however, are eagerly
sought after; and for a few trifling pieces of clothing, travelers may
procure food sufficient to carry them to the Columbia.

We made a long stretch across the upper plain, and encamped on the
bluff, where the grass was very green and good, the soil of the upper
plains containing a considerable proportion of calcareous matter. This
green freshness of the grass was very remarkable for the season of the
year. Again we heard the roar of the fall in the river below, where the
water in an unbroken volume goes over a descent of several feet. The
night is clear, and the weather continues very warm and pleasant, with
a sunset temperature of 70°.

3d.--The morning was pleasant, with a temperature at sunrise of 42°.
The road was broken by ravines among the hills, and in one of these,
which made the bed of a dry creek, I found a fragmentary stratum, or
brecciated conglomerate, consisting of flinty slate pebbles, with
fragments of limestone containing fossil shells.

On the left, the mountains are visible at the distance of 20 or 30
miles, appearing smooth and rather low; but at intervals higher peaks
look out from beyond, and indicate that the main ridge, which we are
leaving with the course of the river, and which forms the northern
boundary of the Great Basin, still maintains its elevation. About two
o'clock we arrived at the ford where the road crosses to the right bank
of Snake river. An Indian was hired to conduct us through the ford,
which proved impracticable for us, the water sweeping away the howitzer
and nearly drowning the mules, which we were obliged to extricate by
cutting them out of the harness. The river here is expanded into a
little bay, in which there are two islands, across which is the road of
the ford; and the emigrants had passed by placing two of their heavy
wagons abreast of each other, so as to oppose a considerable mass
against the body of water. The Indians informed us that one of the men,
in attempting to turn some cattle which had taken a wrong direction,
was carried off by the current and drowned. Since their passage, the
water had risen considerably; but, fortunately, we had a resource in a
boat, which was filled with air and launched; and at seven o'clock we
were safely encamped on the opposite bank, the animals swimming across,
and the carriage, howitzer, and baggage of the camp, being carried over
in the boat. At the place where we crossed, above the islands, the
river had narrowed to a breadth of 1,049 feet by measurement, the
greater portion of which was from six to eight feet deep. We were
obliged to make our camp where we landed, among the Indian lodges,
which are semicircular huts made of willow, thatched over with straw,
and open to the sunny south. By observation, the latitude of our
encampment on the right bank of the river was 42° 55' 58"; chronometric
longitude 115° 04' 46", and the traveled distance from Fort Hall 208
miles.

4th.--Calm, pleasant day, with the thermometer at sunrise at 47°.
Leaving the river at a considerable distance to the left, and following
up the bed of a rocky creek, with occasional holes of water, in about
six miles we ascended, by a long and rather steep hill, to a plain 600
feet above the river, over which we continued to travel during the day,
having a broken ridge 2,000 or 3,000 feet high on the right. The plain
terminates, where we ascended, in an escarpment of vesicular trap-rock,
which supplies the fragments of the creek below. The sky clouded over
with a strong wind from the northwest, with a few drops of rain and
occasional sunlight, threatening a change.

Artemisia still covers the plain, but _Purshia tridentata_ makes its
appearance here on the hill-sides and on bottoms of the creeks--quite a
tree in size, larger than the artemisia. We crossed several hollows
with a little water in them, and improved grass; and, turning off from
the road in the afternoon in search of water, traveled about three
miles up the bed of a willow creek, towards the mountain, and found a
good encampment, with wood and grass, and little ponds of water in the
bed of the creek; which must be of more importance at other seasons, as
we found there several old fixtures for fishing. There were many holes
on the creek prairie, which had been made by the Diggers in search of
roots.

Wind increased to a violent gale from the N.W., with a temperature at
sunset of 57°.

5th..--The morning was calm and clear, and at sunrise the thermometer
was at 32°. The road to-day was occasionally extremely rocky, with hard
volcanic fragments, and our traveling very slow. In about nine miles
the road brought us to a group of smoking hot springs, with a
temperature of 164°. There were a few helianthi in bloom, with some
other low plants, and the place was green round about; the ground warm
and the air pleasant, with a summer atmosphere that was very grateful
in a day of high and cold, searching wind. The rocks were covered with
a white and red incrustation; and the water has on the tongue the same
unpleasant effect as that of the Basin spring on Bear river. They form
several branches, and bubble up with force enough to raise the small
pebbles several inches. The following is an analysis of the deposite
with which the rocks are incrusted:

Silica------------------------ 72.55 Carbonate of lime-------------
14.60 Carbonate of magnesia --------  1.20 Oxide of
iron-----------------  4.65 Alumina-----------------------  0.70

Chloride of sodium, &c.-- } Sulphate of soda--------- }---- 1.10
Sulphate of lime, &c.---- }

Organic vegetable matter- }---- 5.20 Water and loss----------- }
                              ______
                              100.00

These springs are near the foot of the ridge, (a dark and
rugged-looking mountain,) in which some of the nearer rocks have a
reddish appearance, and probably consist of a reddish-brown trap,
fragments of which were scattered along the road after leaving the
spring. The road was now about to cross the point of this mountain,
which we judged to be a spur from the Salmon River range. We crossed a
small creek, and encamped about sunset on a stream, which is probably
Lake river. This is a small stream, some five or six feet broad, with a
swift current, timbered principally with willows and some few
cottonwoods. Along the banks were canes, rosebushes, and clematis, with
Purshia tridentata and artemisias on the upper bottom. The sombre
appearance of the country is somewhat relieved in coming unexpectedly
from the dark rocks upon these green and wooded water-courses, sunk in
chasms; and, in the spring, the contrasted effect must make them
beautiful.

The thermometer at sunset 47°, and the night threatening snow.

6th.--The morning warm, the thermometer 46° at sunrise, and sky
entirely clouded. After traveling about three miles over an extremely
rocky road, the volcanic fragments began to disappear; and, entering
among the hills at the point of the mountain, we found ourselves
suddenly in a granite country. Here, the character of the vegetation
was very much changed; the artemisia disappeared almost entirely,
showing only at intervals towards the close of the day, and was
replaced by Purshia tridentata, with flowering shrubs, and small fields
of _dieteria divaricata,_ which gave bloom and gayety to the hills.
These were everywhere covered with a fresh and green short grass, like
that of the early spring. This is the fall or second growth, the dried
grass having been burnt off by the Indians; and wherever the fire has
passed, the bright, green color is universal. The soil among the hills
is altogether different from that of the river plain, being in many
places black, in others sandy and gravelly, but of a firm and good
character, appearing to result from the decomposition of the granite
rocks, which is proceeding rapidly.

In quitting for a time the artemisia (sage) through which we had been
so long voyaging, and the sombre appearance of which is so
discouraging, I have to remark, that I have been informed that in
Mexico wheat is grown upon the ground which produces this shrub; which,
if true, relieves the soil from the character of sterility imputed to
it. Be this as it may, there is no dispute about the grass, which is
almost universal on the hills and mountains, and always nutritious,
even in its dry state. We passed on the way masses of granite on the
slope of the spur, which was very much weathered and abraded. This is a
white feldspathic granite, with small scales of black mica; smoky
quartz and garnets appear to constitute this portion of the mountain.

The road at noon reached a broken ridge, on which were scattered many
boulders or blocks of granite; and, passing very small streams, where,
with a little more than the usual timber, was sometimes gathered a
little wilderness of plants, we encamped on a small stream, after a
march of 22 miles, in company with a few Indians. Temperature at sunset
51°; and the night was partially clear, with a few stars visible
through drifting white clouds. The Indians made an unsuccessful attempt
to steal a few horses from us--a thing of course with them, and to
prevent which the traveler is on perpetual watch.

7th.--The day was bright, clear, pleasant, with a temperature of 45°;
and we breakfasted at sunrise, the birds singing in the trees as
merrily as if we were in the midst of summer. On the upper edge of the
hills on the opposite side of the creek, the black volcanic rock
appears; and ascending these, the road passed through a basin, around
which the hills swept in such a manner as to give it the appearance of
an old crater. Here were strata and broken beds of black scoriated
rock, and hills composed of the same, on the summit of one of which
there was an opening resembling a rent. We traveled to-day through a
country resembling that of yesterday, where, although the surface was
hilly, the road was good, being firm, and entirely free from rocks and
artemisia. To our left, below, was the great sage plain; and on the
right were the near mountains, which presented a smoothly-broken
character, or rather a surface waved into numberless hills. The road
was occasionally enlivened by meeting Indians, and the day was
extremely beautiful and pleasant; and we were pleased to be free from
the sage, even for a day. When we had traveled about eight miles, we
were nearly opposite to the highest portion of the mountains on the
left side of the Smoke River valley; and, continuing on a few miles
beyond, we came suddenly in sight of the broad green line of the valley
of the _Rivière Boisée_, (wooded river,) black near the gorge where it
debouches into the plains, with high precipices of basalt, between
walls of which it passes, on emerging from the mountains. Following
with the eye its upward course, it appears to be shut in among lofty
mountains, confining its valley in a very rugged country.

Descending the hills, after traveling a few miles along the high plain,
the road brought us down upon the bottoms of the river, which is a
beautiful, rapid stream, with clear mountain water; and, as the name
indicates, well wooded with some varieties of timber--among which are
handsome cottonwoods. Such a stream had become quite a novelty in this
country, and we were delighted this afternoon to make a pleasant camp
under fine old trees again. There were several Indian encampments
scattered along the river; and a number of their inhabitants, in the
course of the evening, came to the camp on horseback with dried and
fresh fish, to trade. The evening was clear, and the temperature at
sunset 57°.

At the time of the first occupation of this region by parties engaged
in the fur-trade, a small party of men, under the command of -----
Reid, constituting all the garrison of a small fort on this river, were
surprised and massacred by the Indians; and to this event the stream
owes its occasional name of _Reid's river_. On the 8th we traveled
about 26 miles, the ridge on the right having scattered pines on the
upper parts; and, continuing the next day our road along the river
bottom, after a day's travel of 24 miles, we encamped in the evening on
the right bank of the river, a mile above the mouth, and early the next
morning arrived at Fort _Boise_. This is a simple dwelling-house on the
right bank of Snake river, about a mile below the mouth of Rivière
Boisée; and on our arrival we were received with an agreeable
hospitality by Mr. Payette, an officer of the Hudson's Bay Company, in
charge of the fort, all of whose garrison consisted in a Canadian
_engagé_.

Here the road recrosses the river, which is broad and deep; but, with
our good boat, aided by two canoes, which were found at the place, the
camp was very soon transferred to the left bank. Here we found
ourselves again surrounded by the sage; artemisia tridentata, and the
different shrubs which during our voyage had always made their
appearance abundantly on saline soils, being here the prevailing and
almost the only plants. Among them the surface was covered with the
usual saline efflorescences, which here consist almost entirely of
carbonate of soda, with a small portion of chloride of sodium. Mr.
Payette had made but slight attempts at cultivation, his efforts being
limited to raising a few vegetables, in which he succeeded tolerably
well; the post being principally supported by salmon. He was very
hospitable and kind to us, and we made a sensible impression upon all
his comestibles; but our principal inroad was into the dairy, which was
abundantly supplied, stock appearing to thrive extremely well; and we
had an unusual luxury in a present of fresh butter, which was, however,
by no means equal to that of Fort Hall--probably from some accidental
cause. During the day we remained here, there were considerable numbers
of miserable, half-naked Indians around the fort, who had arrived from
the neighboring mountains. During the summer, the only subsistence of
these people is derived from the salmon, of which they are not
provident enough to lay up a sufficient store for the winter, during
which many of them die from absolute starvation.

Many little accounts and scattered histories, together with an
acquaintance which I gradually acquired of their modes of life, had
left the aboriginal inhabitants of this vast region pictured in my mind
as a race of people whose great and constant occupation was the means
of procuring a subsistence; and though want of space and other reasons
will prevent me from detailing the many incidents which made this
familiar to me, this great feature among the characteristics of the
country will gradually be forced upon your mind.

Pointing to the group of Indians who had just arrived from the
mountains on the left side of the valley, and who were regarding our
usual appliances of civilization with an air of bewildered curiosity,
Mr. Payette informed me that, every year since his arrival at this
post, he had unsuccessfully endeavored to induce these people to lay up
a store of salmon for their winter provision. While the summer weather
and the salmon lasted, they lived contentedly and happily, scattered
along the different streams where fish are to be found; and as soon as
the winter snows began to, fall, little smokes would be seen rising
among the mountains, where they would be found in miserable groups,
starving out the winter; and sometimes, according to the general
belief, reduced to the horror of cannibalism--the strong, of course,
preying on the weak. Certain it is they are driven to any extremity for
food, and eat every insect, and every creeping thing, however loathsome
and repulsive. Snails, lizards, ants--all are devoured with the
readiness and greediness of mere animals.

In common with all the other Indians we had encountered since reaching
the Pacific waters, these people use the Shoshonee or Snake language,
which you will have occasion to remark, in the course of the narrative,
is the universal language over a very extensive region.

On the evening of the 10th, I obtained, with the usual observations, a
very excellent emersion of the first satellite, agreeing very nearly
with the chronometer. From these observations, the longitude of the
fort is 116° 47' 00", latitude 43° 49' 22", and elevation above the sea
2,100 feet.

Sitting by the fire on the river bank, and waiting for the immersion of
the satellite, which did not take place until after midnight, we heard
the monotonous song of the Indians, with which they accompany a certain
game of which they are very fond. Of the poetry we could not judge, but
the music was miserable.

11th.--The morning was clear, with a light breeze from the east, and a
temperature at sunrise of 33°. A part of a bullock purchased at the
fort, together with the boat, to assist him in crossing, was left here
for Mr. Fitzpatrick, and at 11 o'clock we resumed our journey; and
directly leaving the river, and crossing the artemisia plain, in
several ascents we reached the foot of a ridge, where the road entered
a dry sandy hollow, up which it continued to the head; and, crossing a
dividing ridge, entered a similar one. We met here two poor emigrants,
(Irishmen,) who had lost their horses two days since--probably stolen
by the Indians; and were returning to the fort, in hopes to hear
something of them there. They had recently had nothing to eat; and I
halted to unpack an animal, and gave them meat for their dinner. In
this hollow, the artemisia is partially displaced on the hill-sides by
grass; and descending it -- miles, about sunset we reached the _Rivière
aux Malheurs_, (the unfortunate or unlucky river,)--a considerable
stream, with an average breadth of 50 feet, and, at this time, 18
inches' depth of water.

The bottom lands were generally one and a half mile broad, covered
principally with long dry grass; and we had difficulty to find
sufficient good grass for the camp. With the exception of a bad place
of a few hundred yards long, which occurred in rounding a point of hill
to reach the ford of the river, the road during the day had been very
good.

12th.--The morning was clear and calm, and the thermometer at sunrise
23°. My attention was attracted by a smoke on the right side of the
river, a little below the ford, where I found, on the low banks near
the water, a considerable number of hot springs, in which the
temperature of the water was 193°. The ground, which was too hot for
the naked foot, was covered above and below the springs with an
incrustation of common salt, very white and good, and fine-grained.

Leading for five miles up a broad dry branch of the Malheurs river, the
road entered a sandy hollow, where the surface was rendered firm by the
admixture of other rock; being good and level until arriving near the
head of the ravine, where it became a little rocky, and we met with a
number of sharp ascents over an undulating surface. Crossing here a
dividing ridge, it becomes an excellent road of gradual descent down a
very marked hollow; in which, after ten miles, willows began to appear
in the dry bed of a head of the _Rivière aux Bouleaux_, (Birch river;)
and descending seven miles, we found, at its junction with another
branch, a little water, not very good or abundant, but sufficient, in
case of necessity, for a camp. Crossing Birch river, we continued for
about four miles across a point of hill; the country on the left being
entirely mountainous, with no level spot to be seen; whence we
descended to Snake river--here a fine-looking stream, with a large body
of water and a smooth current; although we hear the roar, and see below
us the commencement of rapids, where it enters among the hills. It
forms here a deep bay, with a low sand island in the midst; and its
course among the mountains is agreeably exchanged for the black
volcanic rock. The weather during the day had been very bright and
extremely hot; but, as usual, so soon as the sun went down, it was
necessary to put on overcoats.

I obtained this evening an observation of an emersion of the first
satellite, and our observations of the evening place this encampment in
latitude 44° 17' 36", and longitude 116° 56' 45", which is the mean of
the results from the satellite and chronometer. The elevation above the
sea is 1,880 feet. At this encampment, the grass is scanty and poor.

13th.--The morning was bright, with the temperature at sunrise 28°. The
horses had strayed off during the night, probably in search of grass;
and, after a considerable delay, we had succeeded in finding all but
two, when, about nine o'clock, we heard the sound of an Indian song and
drum approaching; and shortly after, three Cayuse Indians appeared in
sight, bringing with them the two animals. They belonged to a party
which had been on a buffalo-hunt in the neighborhood of the Rocky
mountains, and were hurrying home in advance. We presented them with
some tobacco and other things, with which they appeared well satisfied,
and, moderating their pace, traveled in company with us.

We were now about to leave the valley of the great southern branch of
the Columbia river, to which the absence of timber, and the scarcity of
water, give the appearance of a desert, to enter a mountainous region,
where the soil is good, and in which the face of the country is covered
with nutritious grasses and dense forest--land embracing many varieties
of trees peculiar to the country, and on which the timber exhibits a
luxuriance of growth unknown to the eastern part of the continent and
to Europe. This mountainous region connects itself in the southward and
westward with the elevated country belonging to the Cascade or
California range; and, as will be remarked in the course of the
narrative, forms the eastern limit of the fertile and timbered lands
along the desert and mountainous region included within the Great
Basin--a term which I apply to the intermediate region between the
Rocky mountains and the next range, containing many lakes, with their
own system of rivers and creeks, (of which the Great Salt is the
principal,) and which have no connection with the ocean, or the great
rivers which flow into it. This Great Basin is yet to be adequately
explored. And here, on quitting the banks of a sterile river, to enter
on arable mountains, the remark may be made, that, on this western
slope of our continent, the usual order or distribution of good and bad
soil is often reversed; the river and creek bottoms being often
sterile, and darkened with the gloomy and barren artemisia; while the
mountain is often fertile, and covered with rich grass, pleasant to the
eye, and good for flocks and herds.

Leaving entirely the Snake river, which is said henceforth to pursue
its way through canons, amidst rocky and impracticable mountains, where
there is no possibility of traveling with animals, we ascended a long
and steep hill; and crossing the dividing ridge, came down into the
valley of _Burnt_ river, which here looks like a hole among the hills.
The average breadth of the stream here is thirty feet; it is well
fringed with the usual small timber; and the soil in the bottoms is
good, with better grass than we had lately been accustomed to see.

We now traveled through a very mountainous country; the stream running
rather in a ravine than a valley, and the road is decidedly bad and
dangerous for single wagons, frequently crossing the stream where the
water is sometimes deep; and all the day the animals were fatigued in
climbing up and descending a succession of steep ascents, to avoid the
precipitous hill-sides; and the common trail, which leads along the
mountain-side at places where the river strikes the base, is sometimes
bad even for a horseman. The mountains along this day's journey were
composed, near the river, of a slaty calcareous rock in a metamorphic
condition. It appears originally to have been a slaty sedimentary
limestone, but its present condition indicates that it has been
altered, and has become partially crystalline--probably from the
proximity of volcanic rocks. But though traveling was slow and
fatiguing to the animals, we were delighted with the appearance of the
country, which was green and refreshing after our tedious journey down
the parched valley of Snake river. The mountains were covered with good
bunch-grass, (_festuca_;) the water of the streams was cold and pure;
their bottoms were handsomely wooded with various kinds of trees; and
huge and lofty picturesque precipices where the river cut through the
mountain.

We found in the evening some good grass and rushes; and encamped among
large timber, principally birch, which had been recently burnt, and
blackened, and almost destroyed by fire. The night was calm and
tolerably clear, with the thermometer at sunset at 59°. Our journey
to-day was about twenty miles.

14th.--The day was clear and calm, with a temperature at sunrise of
46°. After traveling about three miles up the valley, we found the
river shut up by precipices in a kind of canon, and the road makes a
circuit over the mountains. In the afternoon we reached the river
again, by another little ravine; and, after traveling along it for a
few miles, left it enclosed among rude mountains; and, ascending a
smaller branch; encamped on it about five o'clock, very much elevated
above the valley. The view was everywhere limited by mountains, on
which were no longer seen the black and barren rocks, but a fertile
soil, with excellent grass, and partly well covered with pine. I have
never seen a wagon-road equally bad in the same space, as this of
yesterday and to-day. I noticed where one wagon had been overturned
twice, in a very short distance; and it was surprising to me that those
wagons which were in the rear, and could not have had much assistance,
got through at all. Still, there is no mud; and the road has one
advantage, in being perfectly firm. The day had been warm and very
pleasant, and the night was perfectly clear.

15th.--The thermometer at daylight was 42°, and at sunrise 40°; clouds,
which were scattered over all the sky, disappeared with the rising sun.
The trail did not much improve until we had crossed the dividing-ground
between the _Brûlée_ (Burnt) and Powder rivers. The rock displayed on
the mountains, as we approached the summit, was a compact trap,
decomposed on the exposed surfaces, and apparently an altered
argillaceous sandstone, containing small crystalline nodules of
anolcime, apparently filling cavities originally existing. From the
summit here, the whole horizon shows high mountains; no high plain or
level is to be seen; and on the left, from south around by the west to
north, the mountains are black with pines; while, through the remaining
space to the eastward, they are bald, with the exception of some
scattered pines. You will remark that we are now entering a region
where all the elevated parts are covered with dense and heavy forests.
From the dividing grounds we descended by a mountain road to Powder
river, on an old bed of which we encamped. Descending from the summit,
we enjoyed a picturesque view of high rocky mountains on the right,
illuminated by the setting sun.

From the heights we had looked in vain for a well known landmark on
Powder river, which had been described to me by Mr. Payette as _l'arbre
seul_, (the lone tree;) and, on arriving at the river, we found a fine
tall pine stretched on the ground, which had been felled by some
inconsiderate emigrant axe. It had been a beacon on the road for many
years past. Our Cayuses had become impatient to reach their homes, and
traveled on ahead to day; and this afternoon we were visited by several
Indians who belonged to the tribes on the Columbia. They were on
horseback, and were out on a hunting excursion, but had obtained no
better game than a large gray hare, of which each had some six or seven
hanging to his saddle. We were also visited by an Indian who had his
lodge and family in the mountain to the left. He was in want of
ammunition, and brought with him a beaver-skin to exchange, and which
he valued at six charges of powder and ball. I learned from him that
there are very few of these animals remaining in this part of the
country.

The temperature at sunset was 61°, and the evening clear. I obtained,
with other observations, an immersion and emersion of the third
satellite. Elevation 3,100 feet.

16th.--For several weeks the weather in the daytime has been very
beautiful, clear, and warm; but the nights, in comparison, are very
cold. During the night there was ice a quarter of an inch thick in the
lodge; and at daylight the thermometer was at 16°, and the same at
sunrise, the weather being calm and clear. The annual vegetation now is
nearly gone, almost all the plants being out of bloom.

Last night two of our horses had run off again, which delayed us until
noon, and we made to-day but a short journey of 13 miles, the road
being very good, and encamped in a fine bottom of Powder river.

The thermometer at sunset was at 61°, with an easterly wind, and
partially clear sky; and the day has been quite pleasant and warm,
though more cloudy than yesterday; and the sun was frequently faint,
but it grew finer and clearer towards evening.

17th.--Thermometer at sunrise 25°. The weather at daylight was fine,
and the sky without a cloud; but these came up, or were formed by the
sun, and at seven were thick over all the sky. Just now, this appears
to be the regular course--clear and brilliant during the night, and
cloudy during the day. There is snow yet visible in the neighboring
mountains, which yesterday extended along our route to the left, in a
lofty and dark-blue range, having much the appearance of the Wind River
mountains. It is probable that they have received their name of the
_Blue mountains_ from the dark-blue appearance given to them by the
pines. We traveled this morning across the affluents to Powder river,
the road being good, firm, and level, and the country became constantly
more pleasant and interesting. The soil appeared to be very deep, and
is black and extremely good, as well among the hollows of the hills on
the elevated plats, as on the river bottoms, the vegetation being such
as is usually found in good ground. The following analytical result
shows the precise qualities of this soil, and will justify to science
the character of fertility which the eye attributes to it:

_Analysis of Powder river soil._


Silica ----------------- 72.30 Alumina ----------------  6.25 Carbonate
of lime ------  6.86 Carbonate of magnesia --  4.62 Oxide of iron
----------  1.20 Organic matter ---------  4.50 Water and loss
---------  4.27
                        ______
                        100.00

From the waters of this stream, the road ascended by a good and
moderate ascent to a dividing ridge, but immediately entered upon
ground covered with fragments of an altered silicious slate, which are
in many places large, and render the road racking to a carriage. In
this rock the planes of deposition are distinctly preserved, and the
metamorphism is evidently due to the proximity of volcanic rocks. On
either side, the mountains here are densely covered with tall and
handsome trees; and, mingled with the green of a variety of pines, is
the yellow of the European larch, (_pinus larix_,) which loses its
leaves in the fall. From its present color, we were enabled to see that
it forms a large proportion of the forests on the mountains, and is
here a magnificent tree, attaining sometimes the height of 200 feet,
which I believe is elsewhere unknown. About two in the afternoon we
reached a high point of the dividing ridge, from which we obtained a
good view of the _Grand Rond_--a beautiful level basin, or mountain
valley, covered with good grass, on a rich soil, abundantly watered,
and surrounded by high and well-timbered mountains--and its name
descriptive of its form--the great circle. It is a place--one of the
few we have seen on our journey so far--where a farmer would delight to
establish himself, if he were content to live in the seclusion which it
imposes. It is about 20 miles in diameter, and may, in time, form a
superb county. Probably with the view of avoiding a circuit, the wagons
had directly descended into the _Rond_ by the face of a hill so very
rocky and continuously steep as to be apparently impracticable, and,
following down on their trail, we encamped on one of the branches of
the Grand Rond river, immediately at the foot of the hill. I had
remarked, in descending, some very white spots glistening on the plain,
and, going out in that direction after we had encamped, I found them to
be the bed of a dry salt lake, or marsh, very firm and bare, which was
covered thickly with a fine white powder, containing a large quantity
of carbonate of soda, (thirty-three in one hundred parts.)

The old grass had been lately burnt off from the surrounding hills,
and, wherever the fire had passed, there was a recent growth of strong,
green, and vigorous grass; and the soil of the level prairie, which
sweeps directly up to the foot of the surrounding mountains, appears to
be very rich, producing flax spontaneously and luxuriantly in various
places.

 _Analysis of Grand Rond soil._

Silica,---------------------------------- 70.81
Alumina,--------------------------------- 10.97 Lime and
magnesia,-----------------------  1.38 Oxide of
iron,---------------------------  2.21 Vegetable matter, partly
decomposed,----   8.16 Water and loss,--------------------------  5.46
Phosphate of lime,-----------------------  1.01
                                         ______
                                         100.00

The elevation of this encampment is 2,940 feet above the sea.

18th.--It began to rain an hour before sunrise, and continued until ten
o'clock; the sky entirely overcast, and the temperature at sunrise 48°.

We resumed our journey somewhat later than usual, travelling in a
nearly north direction across the beautiful valley; and about noon
reached a place on one of the principal streams, where I had determined
to leave the emigrant trail, in the expectation of finding a more
direct and better road across the Blue mountains. At this place the
emigrants appeared to have held some consultation as to their further
route, and finally turned directly off to the left; reaching the foot
of the mountain in about three miles, which they ascended by a hill as
steep and difficult as that by which we had yesterday descended to the
Rond. Quitting, therefore, this road, which, after a very rough
crossing, issues from the mountains by the heads of the _Umatilah_
river, we continued our northern course across the valley, following an
Indian trail which had been indicated to me by Mr. Payette, and
encamped at the northern extremity of the Grand Rond, on a slough-like
stream of very deep water, without any apparent current. There are some
pines here on the low hills at the creek; and in the northwest corner
of the Rond is a very heavy body of timber, which descends into the
plain. The clouds, which had rested very low along the mountain sides
during the day, rose gradually up in the afternoon; and in the evening
the sky was almost entirely clear, with a temperature at sunset of 47°.
Some indifferent observations placed the camp in longitude 117° 28'
26", latitude 45° 26' 47"; and the elevation was 2,600 feet above the
sea.

19th.--This morning the mountains were hidden by fog; there was a heavy
dew during the night, in which the exposed thermometer at daylight
stood at 32°, and at sunrise the temperature was 35°.

We passed out of the Grand Rond by a fine road along the creek, which,
for a short distance, runs in a kind of rocky chasm. Crossing a low
point, which was a little rocky, the trail conducted into the open
valley of the stream--a handsome place for farms; the soil, even of the
hills, being rich and black. Passing through a point of pines, which
bore evidences of being very much frequented by the Indians, and in
which the trees were sometimes apparently 200 feet high, and three to
seven feet in diameter, we halted for a few minutes in the afternoon at
the foot of the Blue mountains, on a branch of the Grand Rond river, at
an elevation of 2,700 feet. Resuming our journey, we commenced the
ascent of the mountains through an open pine forest of large and
stately trees, among which the balsam pine made its appearance; the
road being good, with the exception of one steep ascent, with a
corresponding descent, which might both have been easily avoided by
opening the way for a short distance through the timber. It would have
been well had we encamped on the stream where we had halted below, as
the night overtook us on the mountain, and we were obliged to encamp
without water, and tie up the animals to the trees for the night. We
halted on a smooth open place of a narrow ridge, which descended very
rapidly to a ravine or piny hollow, at a considerable distance below;
and it was quite a pretty spot, had there been water near. But the
fires at night look very cheerless after a day's march, when there is
no preparation for supper going on; and, after sitting some time around
the blazing logs, Mr. Preuss and Carson, with several others,
volunteered to take the India-rubber buckets and go down into the
ravine in search of water. It was a very difficult way in the darkness
down the slippery side of the steep mountain, and harder still to climb
about half a mile up again; but they found the water, and the cup of
coffee (which it enabled us to make) and bread were only enjoyed with
greater pleasure.

At sunset the temperature was 46°; the evening remarkably clear; and I
obtained an emersion of the first satellite, which does not give a good
result, although the observation was a very good one. The chronometric
longitude was 117° 28' 34", latitude 45° 38' 07", and we had ascended
to an elevation of 3,830 feet. It appeared to have snowed yesterday on
the mountains, their summits showing very white to-day.

20th.--There was a heavy white frost during the night, and at sunrise
the temperature was 37°.

The animals had eaten nothing during the night; and we made an early
start, continuing our route among the pines, which were more dense than
yesterday, and still retained their magnificent size. The larches
cluster together in masses on the side of the mountains, and their
yellow foliage contrasts handsomely with the green of the balsam and
other pines. After a few miles we ceased to see any pines, and the
timber consisted of several varieties of spruce, larch, and balsam
pine, which have a regularly conical figure. These trees appeared from
60 to nearly 200 feet in height; the usual circumference being 10 to 12
feet, and in the pines sometimes 21 feet. In open places near the
summit, these trees became less high and more branching, the conical
form having a greater base. The instrument carriage occasioned much
delay, it being frequently necessary to fell trees and remove the
fallen timber. The trail we were following led up a long spur, with a
very gradual and gentle rise. At the end of three miles, we halted at
an open place near the summit, from which we enjoyed a fine view over
the mountainous country where we had lately traveled, to take a
barometrical observation at the height of 4,460 feet.

After traveling occasionally through open places in the forest, we were
obliged to cut a way through a dense body of timber, from which we
emerged on an open mountain-side, where we found a number of small
springs, and encamped after a day's journey of ten miles. Our elevation
here was 5,000 feet.

21st.--There was a very heavy white frost during the night, and the
thermometer at sunrise was 30°.

We continued to travel through the forest, in which the road was
rendered difficult by fallen trunks, and obstructed by many small
trees, which it was necessary to cut down. But these are only
accidental difficulties, which could easily be removed, and a very
excellent road may be had through this pass, with no other than very
moderate ascents or declivities. A laborious day, which had advanced us
only six miles on the road, brought us in the afternoon to an opening
in the forest, in which there was a fine mountain meadow, with good
grass, and a large clear-water stream--one of the head branches of the
_Umatilah_ river. During this day's journey, the barometer was broken;
and the elevations above the sea, hereafter given, depend upon the
temperature of boiling water. Some of the white spruces which I
measured to-day were twelve feet in circumference, and one of the
larches ten; but eight feet was the average circumference of those
measured along the road. I held in my hand a tape line as I walked
along, in order to form some correct idea of the size of the timber.
Their height appeared to be from 100 to 180, and perhaps 200 feet, and
the trunks of the larches were sometimes 100 feet without a limb; but
the white spruces were generally covered with branches nearly to the
root. All these trees have their branches, particularly the lower ones,
declining.

22d.--The white frost this morning was like snow on the ground; the ice
was a quarter of an inch thick on the creek, and the thermometer at
sunrise was at 20°. But, in a few hours, the day became warm and
pleasant, and our road over the mountains was delightful and full of
enjoyment.

The trail passed sometimes through very thick young timber, in which
there was much cutting to be done; but, after traveling a few miles,
the mountains became more bald, and we reached a point from which there
was a very extensive view in the northwest. We were on the western
verge of the Blue mountains, long spurs of which, very precipitous on
either side extended down into the valley, the waters of the mountain
roaring between them. On our right was a mountain plateau, covered with
a dense forest; and to the westward, immediately below us, was the
great _Nez Perce_ (pierced nose) prairie, in which dark lines of timber
indicated the course of many affluents to a considerable stream that
was pursuing its way across the plain towards what appeared to be the
Columbia river. This I knew to be the Walahwalah river, and occasional
spots along its banks, which resembled clearings, were supposed to be
the mission or Indian settlements; but the weather was smoky and
unfavorable to far views with the glass. The rock displayed here in the
escarpments is a compact amorphous trap, which appears to constitute
the mass of the Blue mountains in this latitude; and all the region of
country through which we have traveled since leaving the Snake river
has been the seat of violent and extensive igneous action. Along the
Burnt River valley, the strata are evidently sedimentary rocks, altered
by the intrusion of volcanic products, which in some instances have
penetrated and essentially changed their original condition. Along our
line of route from this point to the California mountains, there seems
but little essential change. All our specimens of sedimentary rocks
show them much altered, and volcanic productions appear to prevail
throughout the whole intervening distance.

The road now led along the mountain side, around heads of the
precipitous ravines; and keeping men ahead to clear the road, we passed
alternately through bodies of timber and small open prairies, and
encamped in a large meadow, in view of the great prairie below.

At sunset the thermometer was at 40°, and the night was very clear and
bright. Water was only to be had here by descending a bad ravine, into
which we drove our animals, and had much trouble with them in a very
close growth of small pines. Mr. Preuss had walked ahead and did not
get into the camp this evening. The trees here maintained their size,
and one of the black spruces measured 15 feet in circumference. In the
neighborhood of the camp, pines have reappeared here among the timber.

23d.--The morning was very clear; there had been a heavy white frost
during the night, and at sunrise the thermometer was at 31°.

After cutting through two thick bodies of timber, in which I noticed
some small trees of _hemlock_ spruce, (_perusse_) the forest became
more open, and we had no longer any trouble to clear a way. The pines
here were 11 or 12 feet in circumference, and about 110 feet high, and
appeared to love the open grounds. The trail now led along one of the
long spurs of the mountain, descending gradually towards the plain; and
after a few miles traveling, we emerged finally from the forest, in
full view of the plain below, and saw the snowy mass of Mount Hood,
standing high out above the surrounding country at the distance of 180
miles. The road along the ridge was excellent, and the grass very green
and good; the old grass having been burnt off early in the autumn.
About 4 o'clock in the afternoon we reached a little bottom of the
Walahwalah river, where we found Mr. Preuss, who yesterday had reached
this place, and found himself too far in advance of the camp to return.
The stream here has just issued from the narrow ravines, which are
walled with precipices, in which the rock has a brown and more burnt
appearance than above.

At sunset the thermometer was at 48°, and our position was in longitude
118° 00' 39", and in latitude 45° 53' 35".

The morning was clear, with a temperature at sunrise of 24°. Crossing
the river, we traveled over a hilly country with a good bunch-grass;
the river bottom, which generally contains the best soil in other
countries, being here a sterile level of rocks and pebbles. We had
found the soil in the Blue mountains to be of excellent quality, and it
appeared also to be good here among the lower hills. Reaching a little
eminence over which the trail passed, we had an extensive view along
the course of the river, which was divided and spread over its bottom
in a network of water, receiving several other tributaries from the
mountains. There was a band of several hundred horses grazing on the
hills about two miles ahead; and as we advanced on the road we met
other bands, which Indians were driving out to pasture also on the
hills. True to its general character, the reverse of other countries,
the hills and mountains here were rich in grass, the bottoms barren and
sterile.

In six miles we crossed a principal fork, below which the scattered
waters of the river were gathered into one channel; and, passing on the
way several unfinished houses; and some cleared patches, where corn and
potatoes were cultivated, we reached, in about eight miles further, the
missionary establishment of Dr. Whitman, which consisted at this time
of one _adobe_ house--_i.e._, built of unburnt bricks as in Mexico.

I found Dr. Whitman absent on a visit to the _Dalles_ of the Columbia;
but had the pleasure to see a fine-looking family of emigrants, men,
women, and children, in robust health, all indemnifying themselves for
previous scanty fare, in a hearty consumption of potatoes, which are
produced here of a remarkably good quality. We were disappointed in our
expectation of obtaining corn-meal or flour at this station, the mill
belonging to the mission having been lately burned down; but an
abundant supply of excellent potatoes banished regrets, and furnished a
grateful substitute for bread. A small town of Nez Perce Indians gave
an inhabited and even a populous appearance to the station; and, after
remaining about an hour, we continued our route and encamped on the
river about four miles below, passing on the way an emigrant encampment.

Temperature at sunset, 49°.

25th..--The weather was pleasant, with a sunrise temperature of 36°.
Our road to-day had nothing in it of interest; and the country offered
to the eye only a sandy, undulating plain, through which a
scantily-timbered river takes its course. We halted about three miles
above the mouth, on account of grass; and the next morning arrived at
the Nez Perce fort, one of the trading establishments of the Hudson Bay
Company, a few hundred yards above the junction of the Walahwalah with
the Columbia river. Here we had the first view of this river, and found
it about 1,200 yards wide, and presenting the appearance of a fine,
navigable stream. We made our camp in a little grove of willows on the
Walahwalah, which are the only trees to be seen in the neighborhood;
but were obliged to send the animals back to the encampment we had
left, as there was scarcely a blade of grass to be found. The post is
on the bank of the Columbia, on a plain of bare sands, from which the
air was literally filled with clouds of dust and sand, during one of
the few days we remained here; this place being one of the several
points on the river which are distinguished for prevailing high winds,
that come from the sea. The appearance of the post and country was
without interest, except that we here saw, for the first time, the
great river on which the course of events for the last half century has
been directing attention and conferring historical fame. The river is,
indeed, a noble object, and has here attained its full magnitude. About
nine miles above, and in sight from the heights about this post, is the
junction of the two great forks which constitute the main stream--that
on which we had been traveling from Fort Hall, and known by the names
of Lewis's fork, Shoshonee, and Snake river; and the North fork, which
has retained the name of Columbia, as being the main stream.

We did not go up to the junction, being pressed for time; but the union
of two large streams, coming one from the southeast, and the other from
the northeast, and meeting in what may be treated as the geographical
centre of the Oregon valley, thence doubling the volume of water to the
ocean, while opening two great lines of communication with the interior
continent, constitutes a feature in the map of the country which cannot
be overlooked; and it was probably in reference to this junction of
waters, and these lines of communication, that this post was
established. They are important lines, and, from the structure of the
country, must forever remain so,--one of them leading to the South Pass
and to the valley of the Mississippi, the other to the pass at the head
of the Athabasca river, and to the countries drained by the waters of
the Hudson Bay. The British fur companies now use both lines; the
Americans, in their emigration to Oregon, have begun to follow the one
which leads towards the United States. Bateaux from tide-water ascend
to the junction, and thence high up the North fork, or Columbia. Land
conveyance only is used upon the line of Lewis's fork. To the emigrants
to Oregon, the Nez Perce is a point of great interest, as being, to
those who choose it, the termination of their overland journey. The
broad expanse of the river here invites them to embark on its bosom;
and the lofty trees of the forest furnish the means of doing so.

From the South Pass to this place is about 1,000 miles; and as it is
about the same distance from that pass to the Missouri river at the
mouth of the Kansas, it may be assumed that 2,000 miles is the
_necessary_ land travel in crossing from the United States to the
Pacific ocean on this line. From the mouth of the Great Platte it would
be about 100 miles less.

Mr. McKinley, the commander of the post, received us with great
civility; and both to myself, and the heads of the emigrants who were
there at the time, extended the rights of hospitality in a comfortable
dinner to which he invited us.

By a meridional altitude of the sun, the only observation that the
weather permitted us to obtain, the mouth of the Walahwalah river is in
latitude 46° 03' 46"; and, by the road we had traveled, 612 miles from
Fort Hall. At the time of our arrival, a considerable body of
emigrants, under the direction of Mr. Applegate, a man of considerable
resolution and energy, had nearly completed the building of a number of
Mackinaw boats, in which they proposed to continue their further voyage
down the Columbia. I had seen, in descending the Walahwalah river, a
fine drove of several hundred cattle, which they had exchanged for
California cattle, to be received at Vancouver, and which are
considered a very inferior breed. The other portion of the emigration
had preferred to complete their journey by land along the banks of the
Columbia, taking their stock and wagons with them.

Having reinforced our animals with eight fresh horses, hired from the
post, and increased our stock of provisions with dried salmon,
potatoes, and a little beef, we resumed our journey down the left bank
of the Columbia, being guided on our road by an intelligent Indian boy,
whom I had engaged to accompany us as far as the Dalles.

From an elevated point over which the road led, we obtained another far
view of Mount Hood, 150 miles distant. We obtained on the river bank an
observation of the sun at noon, which gave for the latitude 45° 58'
08". The country to-day was very unprepossessing, and our road bad; and
as we toiled slowly along through deep loose sands, and over fragments
of black volcanic rock, our laborious traveling was strongly contrasted
with the rapid progress of Mr. Applegate's fleet of boats, which
suddenly came gliding swiftly down the broad river, which here chanced
to be tranquil and smooth. At evening we encamped on the river bank,
where there was very little grass, and less timber. We frequently met
Indians on the road, and they were collected at every favorable spot
along the river.

29th.--The road continued along the river, and in the course of the day
Mount St. Helens, another snowy peak of the Cascade range, was visible.
We crossed the Umatilah river at a fall near its mouth. This stream is
of the same class as the Walahwalah river, with a bed of volcanic rock,
in places split into fissures. Our encampment was similar to that of
yesterday; there was very little grass, and no wood. The Indians
brought us some pieces for sale, which were purchased to make our fires.

31st.--By observation, our camp is in latitude 45° 50' 05", and
longitude 119° 22' 18". The night has been cold, and we have white
frost this morning, with a temperature at daylight of 25°, and at
sunrise of 24°. The early morning was very clear, and the stars bright;
but, as usual, since we are on the Columbia, clouds formed immediately
with the rising sun. The day continued fine, the east being covered
with scattered clouds, but the west remaining clear, showing the
remarkable cone-like peak of Mount Hood brightly drawn against the sky.
This was in view all day in the southwest, but no other peaks of the
range were visible. Our road was a bad one, of very loose, deep sand.
We met on the way a party of Indians unusually well-dressed. They
appeared intelligent, and, in our slight intercourse, impressed me with
the belief that they possessed some aptitude for acquiring languages.

We continued to travel along the river, the stream being interspersed
with many sand-bars (it being the season of low water) and with many
islands, and an apparently good navigation. Small willows were the only
wood; rock and sand the prominent geological feature. The rock of this
section is a very compact and tough basalt, occurring in strata which
have the appearance of being broken into fragments, assuming the form
of columnar hills, and appearing always in escarpments, with the broken
fragments strewed at the base and over the adjoining country.

We made a late encampment on the river, and used to-night the _purshia
tridentata_ for firewood. Among the rocks which formed the bank, was
very good green grass. Latitude 45° 44' 23", longitude 119° 45' 09".



NOVEMBER.


1st.--Mount Hood is glowing in the sunlight this morning, and the air
is pleasant, with a temperature of 38°. We continued down the river,
and, passing through a pretty green valley, bounded by high precipitous
rocks, encamped at the lower end.

On the right shore, the banks of the Columbia are very high and steep;
the river is 1,690 feet broad, and dark bluffs of rock give it a
picturesque appearance.

2d.--The river here entered among bluffs, leaving no longer room for a
road; and we accordingly left it, and took a more inland way among the
river hills--on which we had no sooner entered, than we found a great
improvement in the country. The sand had disappeared, and the soil was
good, and covered with excellent grass, although the surface was broken
into high hills, with uncommonly deep valleys. At noon we crossed John
Day's river, a clear and beautiful stream, with a swift current and a
bed of rolled stones. It is sunk in a deep valley, which is
characteristic of all the streams in this region; and the hill we
descended to reach it well deserves the name of mountain. Some of the
emigrants had encamped on the river, and others at the summit of the
farther hill, the ascent of which had probably cost their wagons a
day's labor; and others again had halted for the night a few miles
beyond, where they had slept without water. We also encamped in a
grassy hollow without water; but, as we had been forewarned of this
privation by the guide, the animals had all been watered at the river,
and we had brought with us a sufficient quantity for the night.

3d.--After two hours' ride through a fertile, hilly country, covered,
as all the upland here appears to be, with good green grass, we
descended again into the river bottom, along which we resumed our
sterile road, and in about four miles reached the ford of the Fall
river, (_Rivière aux Chutes_,) a considerable tributary to the
Columbia. We had heard, on reaching the Nez Perce fort, a repetition of
the account in regard to the unsettled character of the Columbia
Indians at the present time; and to our little party they had at
various points manifested a not very friendly disposition, in several
attempts to steal our horses. At this place I expected to find a
badly-disposed band, who had plundered a party of 14 emigrant men a few
days before, and taken away their horses; and accordingly we made the
necessary preparation for our security, but happily met with no
difficulty.

The river was high, divided into several arms, with a rocky island at
its outlet into the Columbia, which at this place it rivalled in size,
and apparently derived its highly characteristic name, which is
received from one of its many falls some forty miles up the river. It
entered the Columbia with a roar of falls and rapids, and is probably a
favorite fishing station among the Indians, with whom both banks of the
river were populous; but they scarcely paid any attention to us. The
ford was very difficult at this time, and, had they entertained any bad
intentions, they were offered a good opportunity to carry them out, as
I drove directly into the river, and during the crossing the howitzer
was occasionally several feet under water, and a number of the men
appeared to be more often below than above. Our guide was well
acquainted with the ford, and we succeeded in getting every thing safe
over to the left bank. We delayed here only a short time to put the gun
in order, and, ascending a long mountain hill, resumed our route again
among the interior hills.

The roar of the _Falls of the Columbia_ is heard from the heights,
where we halted a few moments to enjoy a fine view of the river below.
In the season of high water, it would be a very interesting object to
visit, in order to witness what is related of the annual submerging of
the fall under the waters which back up from the basin below,
constituting a great natural lock at this place. But time had become an
object of serious consideration; and the Falls, in their present state,
had been seen and described by many.

After a day's journey of 17 miles, we encamped among the hills on a
little clear stream, where, as usual, the Indians immediately gathered
round us. Among them was a very old man, almost blind from age, with
long and very white hair. I happened of my own accord to give this old
man a present of tobacco, and was struck with the impression which my
unpropitiated notice made on the Indians, who appeared in a remarkable
manner acquainted with the real value of goods, and to understand the
equivalents of trade. At evening, one of them spoke a few words to his
people, and, telling me that we need entertain no uneasiness in regard
to our animals, as none of them would be disturbed, they went all
quietly away. In the morning, when they again came to the camp, I
expressed to them the gratification we felt at their reasonable
conduct, making them a present of some large knives and a few smaller
articles.

4th.--The road continued among the hills, and, reaching an eminence, we
saw before us, watered by a clear stream, a tolerably large valley,
through which the trail passed.

In comparison with the Indians of the Rocky mountains and the great
eastern plain, these are disagreeably dirty in their habits. Their huts
were crowded with half-naked women and children, and the atmosphere
within was any thing but pleasant to persons who had just been riding
in the fresh morning air. We were somewhat amused with the scanty dress
of a woman, who, in common with the others, rushed out of the huts on
our arrival, and who, in default of other covering, used a child for a
fig-leaf.

The road in about half an hour passed near an elevated point, from
which we overlooked the valley of the Columbia for many miles, and saw
in the distance several houses surrounded by fields, which a chief, who
had accompanied us from the village, pointed out to us as the Methodist
missionary station.

In a few miles we descended to the river, which we reached at one of
its remarkably interesting features, known as the _Dalles of the
Columbia_. The whole volume of the river at this place passed between
the walls of a chasm, which has the appearance of having been rent
through the basaltic strata which form the valley-rock of the region.
At the narrowest place we found the breadth, by measurement, 58 yards,
and the average height of the walls above the water 25 feet; forming a
trough between the rocks--whence the name, probably applied by a
Canadian voyageur. The mass of water, in the present low state of the
river, passed swiftly between, deep and black, and curled into many
small whirlpools and counter currents, but unbroken by foam, and so
still that scarcely the sound of a ripple was heard. The rock, for a
considerable distance from the river, was worn over a large portion of
its surface into circular holes and well-like cavities, by the abrasion
of the river, which, at the season of high waters, is spread out over
the adjoining bottoms.

In the recent passage through this chasm, an unfortunate event had
occurred to Mr. Applegate's party, in the loss of one of their boats,
which had been carried under water in the midst of the _Dalles_, and
two of Mr. Applegate's children and one man drowned. This misfortune
was attributed only to want of skill in the steersman, as at this
season there was no impediment to navigation; although the place is
entirely impassable at high water, when boats pass safely over the
great falls above, in the submerged state in which they then find
themselves.

The basalt here is precisely the same as that which constitutes the
rock of the valley higher up the Columbia, being very compact, with a
few round cavities.

We passed rapidly three or four miles down the level valley and
encamped near the mission. The character of the forest growth here
changes, and we found ourselves, with pleasure, again among oaks and
other forest-trees of the east, to which we had long been strangers;
and the hospitable and kind reception with which we were welcomed among
our country people at the mission, aided the momentary illusion of home.

Two good-looking wooden dwelling-houses, and a large schoolhouse, with
stables, barn, and garden, and large cleared fields between the houses
and the river bank, on which were scattered the wooden huts of an
Indian village, gave to the valley the cheerful and busy air of
civilization, and had in our eyes an appearance of abundant and
enviable comfort.

Our land journey found here its western termination. The delay involved
in getting our camp to the right bank of the Columbia, and in opening a
road through the continuous forest to Vancouver, rendered a journey
along the river impracticable; and on this side the usual road across
the mountain required strong and fresh animals, there being an interval
of three days in which they could obtain no food. I therefore wrote
immediately to Mr. Fitzpatrick, directing him to abandon the carts at
the Walahwalah missionary station, and, as soon as the necessary
pack-saddles could be made, which his party required, meet me at the
Dalles, from which point I proposed to commence our homeward journey.
The day after our arrival being Sunday, no business could be done at
the mission; but on Monday, Mr. Perkins assisted me in procuring from
the Indians a large canoe, in which I designed to complete our journey
to Vancouver, where I expected to obtain the necessary supply of
provisions and stores for our winter journey. Three Indians, from the
family to whom the canoe belonged, were engaged to assist in working
her during the voyage, and, with them, our water party consisted of Mr.
Preuss and myself, with Bernier and Jacob Dodson. In charge of the
party which was to remain at the Dalles I left Carson, with
instructions to occupy the people in making pack-saddles and refitting
their equipage. The village from which we were to take the canoe was on
the right bank of the river, about ten miles below, at the mouth of the
Tinanens creek: and while Mr. Preuss proceeded down the river with the
instruments, in a little canoe paddled by two Indians, Mr. Perkins
accompanied me with the remainder of the party by land. The last of the
emigrants had just left the Dalles at the time of our arrival,
traveling some by water and others by land, making ark-like rafts, on
which they had embarked their families and households, with their large
wagons and other furniture, while their stock were driven along the
shore.

For about five miles below the Dalles, the river is narrow, and
probably very deep; but during this distance it is somewhat open, with
grassy bottoms on the left. Entering, then, among the lower mountains
of the Cascade range, it assumes a general character, and high and
steep rocky hills shut it in on either side, rising abruptly in places,
to the height of fifteen hundred feet above the water, and gradually
acquiring a more mountainous character as the river approaches the
Cascades.

After an hour's travel, when the sun was nearly down, we searched along
the shore for a pleasant place, and halted to prepare supper. We had
been well supplied by our friends at the mission with delicious salted
salmon, which had been taken at the fattest season; also, with
potatoes, bread, coffee, and sugar. We were delighted at a change in
our mode of traveling and living. The canoe sailed smoothly down the
river; at night we encamped upon the shore, and a plentiful supply of
comfortable provisions supplied the first of wants. We enjoyed the
contrast which it presented to our late toilsome marchings, our night
watchings, and our frequent privation of food. We were a motley group,
but all happy: three unknown Indians; Jacob, a colored man; Mr. Preuss,
a German; Bernier, creole French; and myself.

Being now upon the ground explored by the South Sea expedition under
Captain Wilkes, and having accomplished the object of uniting my survey
with his, and thus presenting a connected exploration from the
Mississippi to the Pacific, and the winter being at hand, I deemed it
necessary to economize time by voyaging in the night, as is customary
here, to avoid the high winds, which rise with the morning, and decline
with the day.

Accordingly, after an hour's halt, we again embarked, and resumed our
pleasant voyage down the river. The wind rose to a gale after several
hours; but the moon was very bright, and the wind was fair, and the
canoe glanced rapidly down the stream, the waves breaking into foam
alongside; and our night voyage, as the wind bore us rapidly along
between the dark mountains, was wild and interesting. About midnight we
put to the shore on a rocky beach, behind which was a dark looking pine
forest. We built up large fires among the rocks, which were in large
masses round about; and, arranging our blankets on the most sheltered
places we could find, passed a delightful night.

After an early breakfast, at daylight we resumed our journey, the
weather being clear and beautiful, and the river smooth and still. On
either side the mountains are all pine-timbered, rocky, and high. We
were now approaching one of the marked features of the lower Columbia
where the river forms a great _cascade_, with a series of rapids, in
breaking through the range of mountains to which the lofty peaks of
Mount Hood and St. Helens belong, and which rise as great pillars of
snow on either side of the passage. The main branch of the _Sacramento_
river, and the _Tlamath_, issue in cascades from this range; and the
Columbia, breaking through it in a succession of cascades, gives the
idea of cascades to the whole range; and hence the name of CASCADE
RANGE, which it bears, and distinguishes it from the Coast Range lower
down. In making a short turn to the south, the river forms the cascades
in breaking over a point of agglomerated masses of rock, leaving a
handsome bay to the right, with several rocky, pine-covered islands,
and the mountains sweep at a distance around a cove where several small
streams enter the bay. In less than an hour we halted on the left bank,
about five minutes' walk above the cascades, where there were several
Indian huts, and where our guides signified it was customary to hire
Indians to assist in making the _portage_. When traveling with a boat
as light as a canoe, which may easily be carried on the shoulders of
the Indians, this is much the better side of the river for the portage,
as the ground here is very good and level, being a handsome bottom,
which I remarked was covered (_as was now always the case along the
river_) with a growth of green and fresh-looking grass. It was long
before we could come to an understanding with the Indians; but to
length, when they had first received the price of their assistance in
goods, they went vigorously to work; and, in a shorter time than had
been occupied in making our arrangements, the canoe, instruments, and
baggage, were carried through (a distance of about half a mile) to the
bank below the main cascade, where we again embarked, the water being
white with foam among ugly rocks, and boiling into a thousand
whirlpools. The boat passed with great rapidity, crossing and
recrossing in the eddies of the current. After passing through about
two miles of broken water, we ran some wild-looking rapids, which are
called the Lower Rapids, being the last on the river, which below is
tranquil and smooth--a broad, magnificent stream. On a low broad point
on the right bank of the river, at the lower end of these rapids, were
pitched many tents of the emigrants, who were waiting here for their
friends from above, or for boats and provisions which were expected
from Vancouver. In our passage down the rapids, I had noticed their
camps along the shore, or transporting their goods across the portage.
This portage makes a head of navigation, ascending the river. It is
about two miles in length; and above, to the Dalles, is 45 miles of
smooth and good navigation.

We glided on without further interruption between very rocky and high
steep mountains, which sweep along the river valley at a little
distance, covered with forests of pine, and showing occasionally lofty
escarpments of red rock. Nearer, the shore is bordered by steep
escarped hills end huge vertical rocks, from which the waters of the
mountain reach the river in a variety of beautiful falls, sometimes
several hundred feet in height. Occasionally along the river occurred
pretty bottoms, covered with the greenest verdure of the spring. To a
professional farmer, however, it does not offer many places of
sufficient extent to be valuable for agriculture; and after passing a
few miles below the Dalles, I had scarcely seen a place on the south
shore where wagons could get to the river. The beauty of the scenery
was heightened by the continuance of very delightful weather,
resembling the Indian summer of the Atlantic. A few miles below the
cascades we passed a singular isolated hill; and in the course of the
next six miles occurred five very pretty falls from the heights on the
left bank, one of them being of a very picturesque character; and
towards sunset we reached a remarkable point of rocks, distinguished,
on account of prevailing high winds, and the delay it frequently
occasions to the canoe navigation, by the name of _Cape Horn_. It
borders the river in a high wall of rock, which comes boldly down into
deep water; and in violent gales down the river, and from the opposite
shore, which is the prevailing direction of strong winds, the water is
dashed against it with considerable violence. It appears to form a
serious obstacle to canoe traveling; and I was informed by Mr. Perkins,
that in a voyage up the river he had been detained two weeks at this
place, and was finally obliged to return to Vancouver.

The winds of this region deserve a particular study. They blow in
currents, which show them to be governed by fixed laws; and it is a
problem how far they may come from the mountains, or from the ocean
through the breaks in the mountains which let out the river.

The hills here had lost something of their rocky appearance, and had
already begun to decline. As the sun went down, we searched along the
river for an inviting spot; and, finding a clean rocky beach, where
some large dry trees were lying on the ground, we ran our boat to the
shore; and, after another comfortable supper, ploughed our way along
the river in darkness. Heavy clouds covered the sky this evening, and
the wind began to sweep in gusts among the trees, as if bad weather
were coming. As we advanced, the hills on both sides grew constantly
lower; on the right, retreating from the shore, and forming a somewhat
extensive bottom of intermingled prairie and wooded land. In the course
of a few hours, and opposite to a small stream corning in from the
north, called the _Tea Prairie_ river, the highlands on the left
declined to the plains, and three or four miles more disappeared
entirely on both sides, and the river entered the low country. The
river had gradually expanded; and when we emerged from the highlands,
the opposite shores were so distant as to appear indistinct in the
uncertainty of the light. About ten o'clock our pilots halted,
apparently to confer about the course; and, after a little hesitation,
pulled directly across an open expansion of the river, where the waves
were somewhat rough for a canoe, the wind blowing very fresh. Much to
our surprise, a few minutes afterwards we ran aground. Backing off our
boat, we made repeated trials at various places to cross what appeared
to be a point of shifting sand-bars, where we had attempted to shorten
the way by a cut-off. Finally, one of our Indians got into the water,
and waded about until he found a channel sufficiently deep, through
which we wound along after him, and in a few minutes again entered the
deep water below. As we paddled rapidly down the river, we heard the
noise of a saw-mill at work on the right bank; and, letting our boat
float quietly down, we listened with pleasure to the unusual sounds,
and before midnight, encamped on the bank of the river, about a mile
above Fort Vancouver. Our fine dry weather had given place to a dark
cloudy night. At midnight it began to rain; and we found ourselves
suddenly in the gloomy and humid season, which, in the narrow region
lying between the Pacific and the Cascade mountains, and for a
considerable distance along the coast, supplies the place of winter.

In the morning, the first object that attracted my attention was the
barque Columbia, lying at anchor near the landing. She was about to
start on a voyage to England, and was now ready for sea; being detained
only in waiting the arrival of the express bateaux, which descend the
Columbia and its north fork with the overland mail from Canada and
Hudson's Bay, which had been delayed beyond the usual time. I
immediately waited upon Dr. McLaughlin, the executive officer of the
Hudson Bay Company, in the territory west of the Rocky mountains, who
received me with the courtesy and hospitality for which he has been
eminently distinguished, and which makes a forcible and delightful
impression on a traveler from the long wilderness from which we had
issued. I was immediately supplied by him with the necessary stores and
provisions to refit and support my party in our contemplated winter
journey to the States; and also with a Mackinaw boat and canoes, manned
with Canadian and Iroquois voyageurs and Indians, for their
transportation to the Dalles of the Columbia. In addition to this
efficient kindness in furnishing me with these necessary supplies, I
received from him a warm and gratifying sympathy in the suffering which
his great experience led him to anticipate for us in our homeward
journey, and a letter of recommendation and credit for any officers of
the Hudson Bay Company into whose posts we might be driven by
unexpected misfortune.

Of course, the future supplies for my party were paid for, bills on the
Government of the United States being readily taken; but every
hospitable attention was extended to me, and I accepted an invitation
to take a room in the fort, "_and to make myself at home while I
stayed_."

I found many American emigrants at the fort; others had already crossed
the river into their land of promise--the Walahmette valley. Others
were daily arriving; and all of them have been furnished with shelter,
so far as it could be afforded by the buildings connected with the
establishment. Necessary clothing and provisions (the latter to be
returned in kind from the produce of their labor) were also furnished.
This friendly assistance was of very great value to the emigrants,
whose families were otherwise exposed to much suffering in the winter
rains, which had now commenced; at the same time they were in want of
all the common necessaries of life. Those who had taken a water
conveyance at the Nez Perce fort continued to arrive safely, with no
other accident than has been already mentioned. The party which had
crossed over the Cascade mountains were reported to have lost a number
of their animals; and those who had driven their stock down the
Columbia had brought them safely in, and found for them a ready and
very profitable market, and were already proposing to return to the
States in the spring for another supply. In the space of two days our
preparations had been completed, and we were ready to set out on our
return. It would have been very gratifying to have gone down to the
Pacific, and, solely in the interest and love of geography, to have
seen the ocean on the western as well as on the eastern side of the
continent, so as to give a satisfactory completeness to the
geographical picture which had been formed in our minds; but the rainy
season had now regularly set in, and the air was filled with fogs and
rain, which left no beauty in any scenery, and obstructed observations.
The object of my instructions had been entirely fulfilled in having
connected our reconnoissance with the surveys of Captain Wilkes; and
although it would have been agreeable and satisfactory to terminate
here also our ruder astronomical observations, I was not, for such a
reason, justified to make a delay in waiting for favorable weather.

Near sunset of the 10th, the boats left the fort, and encamped after
making only a few miles. Our flotilla consisted of a Mackinaw barge and
three canoes--one of them that in which we had descended the river; and
a party in all of twenty men. One of the emigrants, Mr. Burnet, of
Missouri, who had left his family and property at the Dalles, availed
himself of the opportunity afforded by the return of our boats to bring
them down to Vancouver. This gentleman, as well as the Messrs.
Applegate, and others of the emigrants whom I saw, possessed
intelligence and character, with the moral and intellectual stamina, as
well as the enterprise, which give solidity and respectability to the
foundation of colonies.

11th.--The morning was rainy and misty. We did not move with the
practised celerity of my own camp; and it was nearly nine o'clock when
our motley crew had finished their breakfast and were ready to start.
Once afloat, however, they worked steadily and well, and we advanced at
a good rate up the river; and in the afternoon a breeze sprung up,
which enabled us to add a sail to the oars. At evening we encamped on a
warm-looking beach, on the right bank, at the foot of the high
river-hill, immediately at the lower end of Cape Horn. On the opposite
shore is said to be a singular hole in the mountain, from which the
Indians believe comes the wind producing these gales. It is called the
Devil's hole; and the Indians, I was told, had been resolving to send
down one of their slaves to explore the region below. At dark, the wind
shifted into its stormy quarter, gradually increasing to a gale from
the southwest; and the sky becoming clear, I obtained a good
observation of an emersion of the first satellite; the result of which
being an absolute observation, I have adopted for the longitude of the
place.

12th.--The wind during the night had increased to so much violence that
the broad river this morning was angry and white; the waves breaking
with considerable force against this rocky wall of the cape. Our old
Iroquois pilot was unwilling to risk the boats around the point, and I
was not disposed to hazard the stores of our voyage for the delay of a
day. Further observations were obtained during the day, giving for the
latitude of the place 45° 33' 09"; and the longitude obtained from the
satellite is 122° 6' 15".

13th.--We had a day of disagreeable and cold rain and, late in the
afternoon, began to approach the rapids of the cascades. There is here
a high timbered island on the left shore, below which, in descending, I
had remarked, in a bluff of the river, the extremities of trunks of
trees, appearing to be imbedded in the rock. Landing here this
afternoon, I found, in the lower part of the escarpment, a stratum of
coal and forest-trees, imbedded between strata of altered clay,
containing the remains of vegetables, the leaves of which indicate that
the plants wore dicotyledonous. Among these, the stems of some of the
ferns are not mineralized, but merely charred, retaining still their
vegetable structure and substance; and in this condition a portion of
the trees remain. The indurated appearance and compactness of the
strata, as well, perhaps, as the mineralized condition of the coal, are
probably due to igneous action. Some portions of the coal precisely
resemble in aspect the canal coal of England, and, with the
accompanying fossils, have been referred to the tertiary formation.

These strata appear to rest upon a mass of agglomerated rock, being but
a few feet above the water of the river; and over them is the
escarpment of perhaps 80 feet, rising gradually in the rear towards the
mountains. The wet and cold evening, and near approach of night,
prevented me from making any other than a slight examination.

The current was now very swift, and we were obliged to _cordelle_ the
boat along the left shore, where the bank was covered with large masses
of rocks. Night overtook us at the upper end of the island, a short
distance below the cascades, and we halted on the open point. In the
mean time, the lighter canoes, paddled altogether by Indians, had
passed ahead, and were out of sight. With them was the lodge, which was
the only shelter we had, with most of the bedding and provisions. We
shouted, and fired guns; but all to no purpose, as it was impossible
for them to hear above the roar of the river; and we remained all night
without shelter, the rain pouring down all the time. The old voyageurs
did not appear to mind it much, but covered themselves up as well as
they could, and lay down on the sand-beach, where they remained quiet
until morning. The rest of us spent a rather miserable night; and, to
add to our discomfort, the incessant rain extinguished our fires; and
we were glad when at last daylight appeared, and we again embarked.

Crossing to the right bank, we _cordelled_ the boat along the shore,
there being no longer any use of the paddles, and put into a little bay
below the upper rapids. Here we found a lodge pitched, and about 20
Indians sitting around a blazing fire within, making a luxurious
breakfast with salmon, bread, butter, sugar, coffee, and other
provisions. In the forest, on the edge of the high bluff overlooking
the river, is an Indian graveyard, consisting of a collection of tombs,
in each of which were the scattered bones of many skeletons. The tombs
were made of boards, which were ornamented with many figures of men and
animals of the natural size--from their appearance, constituting the
armorial device by which, among Indians, the chiefs are usually known.

The masses of rock displayed along the shores of the ravine in the
neighborhood of the cascades, are clearly volcanic products. Between
this cove, which I called Graveyard bay, and another spot of smooth
water above, on the right, called Luders bay, sheltered by a jutting
point of huge rocky masses at the foot of the cascades, the shore along
the intervening rapids is lined with precipices of distinct strata of
red and variously-colored lavas, in inclined positions.

The masses of rock forming the point at Luders bay consist of a porous
trap, or basalt--a volcanic product of a modern period. The rocks
belong to agglomerated masses, which form the immediate ground of the
cascades, and have been already mentioned as constituting a bed of
cemented conglomerate rocks, appearing at various places along the
river. Here they are scattered along the shores, and through the bed of
the river, wearing the character of convulsion, which forms the
impressive and prominent feature of the river at this place.

Wherever we came in contact with the rocks of these mountains, we found
them volcanic, which is probably the character of the range; and at
this time, two of the great snowy cones, Mount Regnier and St. Helens,
were in action. On the 23d of the preceding November, St. Helens had
scattered its ashes, like a white fall of snow, over the Dalles of the
Columbia, 50 miles distant. A specimen of these ashes was given to me
by Mr. Brewer, one of the clergymen at the Dalles.

The lofty range of the Cascade mountains forms a distinct boundary
between the opposite climates of the regions along its western and
eastern bases. On the west, they present a barrier to the clouds of fog
and rain which roll up from the Pacific ocean and beat against their
rugged sides, forming the rainy season of the winter in the country
along the coast. Into the brighter skies of the region along their
eastern base, this rainy winter never penetrates; and at the Dalles of
the Columbia the rainy season is unknown, the brief winter being
limited to a period of about two months, during which the earth is
covered with the slight snows of a climate remarkably mild for so high
a latitude. The Cascade range has an average distance of about 130
miles from the sea-coast. It extends far both north and south of the
Columbia, and is indicated to the distant observer, both in course and
position, by the lofty volcanic peaks which rise out of it, and which
are visible to an immense distance.

During several days of constant rain, it kept our whole force
laboriously employed in getting our barge and canoes to the upper end
of the Cascades. The portage ground was occupied by emigrant families;
their thin and insufficient clothing, bareheaded and barefooted
children, attesting the length of their journey, and showing that they
had, in many instances, set out without a due preparation of what was
indispensable.

A gentleman named Luders, a botanist from the city of Hamburg, arrived
at the bay I have called by his name while we were occupied in bringing
up the boats. I was delighted to meet at such a place a man of kindred
pursuits; but we had only the pleasure of a brief conversation, as his
canoe, under the guidance of two Indians, was about to run the rapids;
and I could not enjoy the satisfaction of regaling him with a
breakfast, which, after his recent journey, would have been an
extraordinary luxury. All of his few instruments and baggage were in
the canoe, and he hurried around by land to meet it at the Graveyard
bay; but he was scarcely out of sight, when, by the carelessness of the
Indians, the boat was drawn into the midst of the rapids, and glanced
down the river, bottom up, with a loss of every thing it contained. In
the natural concern I felt for his misfortune, I gave to the little
cove the name of Luders bay.

15th.--We continued to-day our work at the portage.

About noon, the two barges of the express from Montreal arrived at the
upper portage landing, which, for large boats, is on the right bank of
the river. They were a fine-looking crew, and among them I remarked a
fresh-looking woman and her daughter, emigrants from Canada. It was
satisfactory to see the order and speed with which these experienced
water-men effected the portage, and passed their boats over the
cascades. They had arrived at noon, and in the evening they expected to
reach Vancouver. These bateaux carry the express of the Hudson Bay
Company to the highest navigable point of the North Fork of the
Columbia, whence it is carried by an overland party to Lake Winipec,
where it is divided; part going to Montreal, and part to Hudson Bay.
Thus a regular communication is kept up between three very remote
points.

The Canadian emigrants were much chagrined at the change of climate,
and informed me that, only a few miles above, they had left a country
of bright blue sky and a shining sun. The next morning the upper parts
of the mountains which directly overlook the cascades, were white with
the freshly fallen snow, while it continued to rain steadily below.

Late in the afternoon we finished the portage, and, embarking again,
moved a little distance up the right bank, in order to clear the
smaller rapids of the cascades, and have a smooth river for the next
morning. Though we made but a few miles, the weather improved
immediately; and though the rainy country and the cloudy mountains were
close behind, before us was the bright sky; so distinctly is climate
here marked by a mountain boundary.

17th.--We had to-day an opportunity to complete the sketch of that
portion of the river down which we had come by night.

Many places occur along the river, where the stumps, or rather portions
of the trunks of pine-trees, are standing along the shore, and in the
water, where they may be seen at a considerable depth below the
surface, in the beautifully clear water. These collections of dead
trees are called on the Columbia the _submerged forest_, and are
supposed to have been created by the effects of some convulsion which
formed the cascades, and which, by damming up the river, placed these
trees under water and destroyed them. But I venture to presume that the
cascades are older than the trees; and as these submerged forests occur
at five or six places along the river, I had an opportunity to satisfy
myself that they have been formed by immense landslides from the
mountains, which here closely shut in the river, and which brought down
with them into the river the pines of the mountain. At one place, on
the right bank, I remarked a place where a portion of one of these
slides seemed to have planted itself, with all the evergreen foliage,
and the vegetation of the neighboring hill, directly amidst the falling
and yellow leaves of the river trees. It occurred to me that this would
have been a beautiful illustration to the eye of a botanist.

Following the course of a slide, which was very plainly marked along
the mountain, I found that in the interior parts the trees were in
their usual erect position; but at the extremity of the slide they were
rocked about, and thrown into a confusion of inclinations.

About 4 o'clock in the afternoon we passed a sandy bar in the river,
whence we had an unexpected view of Mount Hood, bearing directly south
by compass.

During the day we used oar and sail, and at night had again a
delightful camping ground, and a dry place to sleep upon.

18th.--The day again was pleasant and bright. At 10 o'clock we passed a
rock island, on the right shore of the river, which the Indians use as
a burial ground; and halting for a short time, about an hour
afterwards, at the village of our Indian friends, early in the
afternoon we arrived again at the Dalles.

Carson had removed the camp up the river a little nearer to the hills,
where the animals had better grass. We found every thing in good order,
and arrived just in time to partake of an excellent roast of California
beef. My friend, Mr. Gilpin, had arrived in advance of the party. His
object in visiting this country had been to obtain correct information
of the Walahmette settlements; and he had reached this point in his
journey, highly pleased with the country over which he had traveled,
and with invigorated health. On the following day he continued his
journey, in our returning boats, to Vancouver.

The camp was now occupied in making the necessary preparations for our
homeward journey, which, though homeward, contemplated a new route, and
a great circuit to the south and southeast, and the exploration of the
Great Basin between the Rocky mountains and the _Sierra Nevada_. Three
principal objects were indicated, by report or by maps, as being on
this route; the character or existence of which I wished to ascertain
and which I assumed as landmarks, or leading points, on their projected
line of return. The first of those points was the _Tlamath_ lake, on
the table-land between the head of Fall river, which comes to the
Columbia, and the Sacramento, which goes to the Bay of San Francisco;
and from which lake a river of the same name makes its way westwardly
direct to the ocean. This lake and river are often called _Klamet_, but
I have chosen to write its name according to the Indian pronunciation.
The position of this lake, on the line of inland communication between
Oregon and California; its proximity to the demarcation boundary of
latitude 42°; its imputed double character of lake, or meadow,
according to the season of the year; and the hostile and warlike
character attributed to the Indians about it--all made it a desirable
object to visit and examine. From this lake our course was intended to
be about southeast, to a reported lake called Mary's, at some days'
journey in the Great Basin; and thence, still on southeast, to the
reputed _Buenaventura_ river, which has had a place in so many maps,
and countenanced the belief of the existence of a great river flowing
from the Rocky mountains to the Bay of San Francisco. From the
Buenaventura the next point was intended to be in that section of the
Rocky mountains which includes the heads of Arkansas river, and of the
opposite waters of the Californian gulf; and thence down the Arkansas
to Bent's fort, and home. This was our projected line of return--a
great part of it absolutely new to geographical, botanical, and
geological science--and the subject of reports in relation to lakes,
rivers, deserts, and savages hardly above the condition of mere wild
animals, which inflamed desire to know what this _terra incognita_
really contained.

It was a serious enterprise, at the commencement of winter, to
undertake the traverse of such a region, and with a party consisting
only of twenty-five persons, and they of many nations--American,
French, German, Canadian, Indian, and colored--and most of those young,
several being under twenty-one years of age. All knew that a strange
country was to be explored, and dangers and hardships to be
encountered; but no one blenched at the prospect. On the contrary,
courage and confidence animated the whole party. Cheerfulness,
readiness, subordination, prompt obedience, characterized all; nor did
any extremity of peril and privation, to which we were afterwards
exposed, ever belie, or derogate from, the fine spirit of this brave
and generous commencement. The course of the narrative will show at
what point, and for what reasons, we were prevented from the complete
execution of this plan, after having made considerable progress upon
it, and how we were forced by desert plains and mountain ranges, and
deep snows, far to the south, and near to the Pacific ocean, and along
the western base of the Sierra Nevada, where, indeed, a new and ample
field of exploration opened itself before us. For the present, we must
follow the narrative, which will first lead us south along the valley
of Fall river, and the eastern base of the Cascade range, to the
Tlamath lake, from which, or its margin, three rivers go in three
directions--one west, to the ocean; another north, to the Columbia; the
third south, to California.

For the support of the party, I had provided at Vancouver a supply of
provisions for not less than three months, consisting principally of
flour, peas, and tallow--the latter being used in cooking; and, in
addition to this, I had purchased at the mission some California
cattle, which were to be driven on the hoof. We had 104 mules and
horses--part of the latter procured from the Indians about the mission;
and for the sustenance of which, our reliance was upon the grass which
we should find, and the soft porous wood which was to be substituted
when there was none.

Mr. Fitzpatrick, with Mr. Talbot and the remainder of the party,
arrived on the 21st; and the camp was now closely engaged in the labor
of preparation. Mr. Perkins succeeded in obtaining as a guide to the
Tlamath lake two Indians--one of whom had been there, and bore the
marks of several wounds he had received from some of the Indians in the
neighborhood; and the other went along for company. In order to enable
us to obtain horses, he dispatched messengers to the various Indian
villages in the neighborhood, informing them that we were desirous to
purchase, and appointing a day for them to bring them in.

We made, in the mean time, several excursions in the vicinity. Mr.
Perkins walked with Mr. Preuss and myself to the heights, about nine
miles distant, on the opposite side of the river, whence, in fine
weather, an extensive view may be had over the mountains, including
seven great peaks of the Cascade range; but clouds, on this occasion,
destroyed the anticipated pleasure, and we obtained bearings only to
three that were visible--Mount Regnier, St. Helens, and Mount Hood. On
the heights, about one mile south of the mission, a very fine view may
be had of Mount Hood and St. Helens. In order to determine their
position with as much accuracy as possible, the angular distances of
the peaks were measured with the sextant, at different fixed points
from which they could be seen.

The Indians brought in their horses at the appointed time, and we
succeeded in obtaining a number in exchange for goods; but they were
relatively much higher here, where goods are plenty and at moderate
prices, than we had found them in the more eastern part of our voyage.
Several of the Indians inquired very anxiously to know if we had any
_dollars_; and the horses we procured were much fewer in number than I
had desired, and of thin, inferior quality; the oldest and poorest
being those that were sold to us. These horses, as ever in our journey
you will have occasion to remark, are valuable for hardihood and great
endurance.

24th.--At this place one of the men was discharged; and at the request
of Mr. Perkins, a Chinook Indian, a lad of nineteen, who was extremely
desirous to "see the whites," and make some acquaintance with our
institutions, was received into the party under my special charge, with
the understanding that I would again return him to his friends. He had
lived for some time in the household of Mr. Perkins, and spoke a few
words of the English language.

25th.--We were all up early, in the excitement of turning towards home.
The stars were brilliant, and the morning cold, the thermometer at
daylight 26°.

Our preparations had been fully completed, and to-day we commenced our
journey. The little wagon which had hitherto carried the instruments, I
judged it necessary to abandon; and it was accordingly presented to the
mission. In all our long traveling, it had never been overturned or
injured by any accident of the road; and the only things broken were
the glass lamps, and one of the front panels, which had been kicked out
by an unruly Indian horse. The howitzer was the only wheeled carriage
now remaining. We started about noon, when the weather had become
disagreeably cold, with flurries of snow. Our friend Mr. Perkins, whose
kindness had been active and efficient during our stay, accompanied us
several miles on our road, when he bade us farewell, and consigned us
to the care of our guides. Ascending to the uplands beyond the southern
fork of the _Tinanens_ creek, we found the snow lying on the ground in
frequent patches, although the pasture appeared good, and the new short
grass was fresh and green. We traveled over high, hilly land, and
encamped on a little branch of Tinanens creek, where there were good
grass and timber. The southern bank was covered with snow, which was
scattered over the bottom; and the little creek, its borders lined with
ice, had a chilly and wintry look. A number of Indians had accompanied
us so far on our road, and remained with us during the night. Two
bad-looking fellows, who were detected in stealing, were tied and laid
before the fire, and guard mounted over them during the night. The
night was cold, and partially clear.

26th.--The morning was cloudy and misty, and but a few stars visible.
During the night water froze in the tents, and at sunrise the
thermometer was at 20°. Left camp at 10 o'clock, the road leading along
tributaries of the Tinanens, and being, so far, very good. We turned to
the right at the fork of the trail, ascending by a steep ascent along a
spur to the dividing grounds between this stream and the waters of Fall
river. The creeks we had passed were timbered principally with oak and
other deciduous trees. Snow lies everywhere here on the ground, and we
had a slight fall during the morning; but towards noon the bright sky
yielded to a bright sun.

This morning we had a grand view of St. Helens and Regnier: the latter
appeared of a conical form, and very lofty, leading the eye far up into
the sky. The line of the timbered country is very distinctly marked
here, the bare hills making with it a remarkable contrast. The summit
of the ridge commanded a fine view of the Taih prairie, and the stream
running through it, which is a tributary to the Fall river, the chasm
of which is visible to the right. A steep descent of a mountain hill
brought us down into the valley, and we encamped on the stream after
dark, guided by the light of fires, which some naked Indians, belonging
to a village on the opposite side, were kindling for us on the bank.
This is a large branch of the Fall river. There was a broad band of
thick ice some fifteen feet wide on either bank, and the river current
is swift and bold. The night was cold and clear, and we made our
astronomical observation this evening with the thermometer at 20°.

In anticipation of coming hardship, and to spare our horses, there was
much walking done to-day; and Mr. Fitzpatrick and myself made the day's
journey on foot. Somewhere near the mouth of this stream are the falls
from which the river takes its name.

27th.--A fine view of Mount Hood this morning; a rose-colored mass of
snow, bearing S. 85° W. by compass. The sky is clear, and the air cold;
the thermometer 2.5° below zero, the trees and bushes glittering white,
and the rapid stream filled with floating ice.

_Stiletsi_ and _the White Crane_, two Indian chiefs who had accompanied
us thus far, took their leave, and we resumed our journey at 10
o'clock. We ascended by a steep hill from the river bottom, which is
sandy, to a volcanic plain, around which lofty hills sweep in a regular
form. It is cut up by gullies of basaltic rock, escarpments of which
appear everywhere in the hills. This plain is called the Taih prairie,
and is sprinkled with some scattered pines. The country is now far more
interesting to a traveler than the route along the Snake and Columbia
rivers. To our right we had always the mountains, from the midst of
whose dark pine forests the isolated snowy peaks were looking out like
giants. They served us for grand beacons to show the rate at which we
advanced in our journey. Mount Hood was already becoming an old
acquaintance, and, when we ascended the prairie, we obtained a bearing
to Mount Jefferson, S. 23° W. The Indian superstition has peopled these
lofty peaks with evil spirits, and they have never yet known the tread
of a human foot. Sternly drawn against the sky, they look so high and
steep, so snowy and rocky, that it appears almost impossible to climb
them; but still a trial would have its attractions for the adventurous
traveler. A small trail takes off through the prairie, towards a low
point in the range, and perhaps there is here a pass into the
Wahlamette valley. Crossing the plain, we descended by a rocky hill
into the bed of a tributary of Fall river, and made an early
encampment. The water was in holes, and frozen over; and we were
obliged to cut through the ice for the animals to drink. An ox, which
was rather troublesome to drive, was killed here for food.

The evening was fine, the sky being very clear, and I obtained an
immersion of the third satellite, with a good observation of an
emersion of the first; the latter of which gives for the longitude,
121° 02' 43"; the latitude, by observation, being 45° 06' 45". The
night was cold--the thermometer during the observations standing at 9°.

28th.--The sky was clear in the morning, but suddenly clouded over, and
at sunrise it began to snow, with the thermometer at 18°.

We traversed a broken high country, partly timbered with pine, and
about noon crossed a mountainous ridge, in which, from the rock
occasionally displayed, the formation consists of compact lava.
Frequent tracks of elk were visible in the snow. On our right, in the
afternoon, a high plain, partially covered with pine, extended about
ten miles, to the foot of the Cascade mountains.

At evening we encamped in a basin narrowly surrounded by rocky hills,
after a day's journey of twenty-one miles. The surrounding rocks are
either volcanic products, or highly altered by volcanic action,
consisting of quartz and reddish-colored silicious masses.

29th.--We emerged from the basin, by a narrow pass, upon a considerable
branch of Fall river, running to the eastward through a narrow valley.
The trail, descending this stream, brought us to a locality of hot
springs, which were on either bank. Those on the left, which were
formed into deep handsome basins, would have been delightful baths, if
the outer air had not been so keen, the thermometer in these being at
89°. There were others on the opposite side, at the foot of an
escarpment, in which the temperature of the water was 134°. These
waters deposited around the spring a brecciated mass of quartz and
feldspar, much of it of a reddish color.

We crossed the stream here, and ascended again to a high plain, from an
elevated point of which we obtained a view of six of the great
peaks--Mount Jefferson, followed to the southward by two others of the
same class; and succeeding, at a still greater distance to the
southward, were three other lower peaks, clustering together in a
branch ridge. These, like the great peaks, were snowy masses, secondary
only to them; and, from the best examination our time permitted, we are
inclined to believe that the range to which they belong is a branch
from the great chain which here bears to the westward. The trail,
during the remainder of the day, followed near to the large stream on
the left, which was continuously walled in between high rocky banks. We
halted for the night on a little by-stream.

30th.--Our journey to-day was short. Passing over a high plain, on
which were scattered cedars, with frequent beds of volcanic rock in
fragments interspersed among the grassy grounds, we arrived suddenly on
the verge of the steep and rocky descent to the valley of the stream we
had been following, and which here ran directly across our path,
emerging from the mountains on the right. You will remark that the
country is abundantly watered with large streams, which pour down from
the neighboring range.

These streams are characterized by the narrow and chasm-like valleys in
which they run, generally sunk a thousand feet below the plain. At the
verge of this plain, they frequently commence in vertical precipices of
basaltic rock, and which leave only casual places at which they can be
entered by horses. The road across the country, which would otherwise
be very good, is rendered impracticable for wagons by these streams.
There is another trail among the mountains, usually followed in the
summer, which the snows now compelled us to avoid; and I have reason to
believe that this, passing nearer the heads of these streams, would
afford a much better road.

At such places, the gun-carriage was unlimbered, and separately
descended by hand. Continuing a few miles up the left bank of the
river, we encamped early in an open bottom among the pines, a short
distance below a lodge of Indians. Here, along the river the bluffs
present escarpments seven or eight hundred feet in height, containing
strata of a very fine porcelain clay, overlaid, at the height of about
five hundred feet, by a massive stratum of compact basalt one hundred
feet in thickness, which again is succeeded above by other strata of
volcanic rocks. The clay strata are variously colored, some of them
very nearly as white as chalk, and very fine-grained. Specimens brought
from these have been subjected to microscopical examination by
Professor Bailey, of West Point, and are considered by him to
constitute one of the most remarkable deposites of fluviatile infusoria
on record. While they abound in genera and species which are common in
fresh water, but which rarely thrive where the water is even brackish,
not one decidedly marine form is to be found among them; and their
fresh-water origin is therefore beyond a doubt. It is equally certain
that they lived and died at the situation where they were found, as
they could scarcely have been transported by running waters without an
admixture of sandy particles; from which, however, they are remarkably
free. Fossil infusoria of a fresh-water origin had been previously
detected by Mr. Bailey, in specimens brought by Mr. James D. Dana from
the tertiary formation of Oregon. Most of the species in those
specimens differed so much from those now living and known, that he was
led to infer that they might belong to extinct species, and considered
them also as affording proof of an alteration, in the formation from
which they were obtained, of fresh and salt-water deposites, which,
common enough in Europe, had not hitherto been noticed in the United
States. Coming evidently from a locality entirely different, our
specimens show very few species in common with those brought by Mr.
Dana, but bear a much closer resemblance to those inhabiting the
northeastern states. It is possible that they are from a more recent
deposite; but the presence of a few remarkable forms which are common
to the two localities renders it more probable that there is no great
difference in their age.

I obtained here a good observation of an emersion of the second
satellite; but clouds, which rapidly overspread the sky, prevented the
usual number of observations. Those which we succeeded in obtaining,
are, however, good; and give for the latitude of the place 44° 35' 23",
and for the longitude from the satellite 121° 10' 25".



DECEMBER.


1st.--A short distance above our encampment, we crossed the river,
which was thickly lined along its banks with ice. In common with all
these mountain-streams the water was very clear and the current swift.
It was not everywhere fordable, and the water was three or four feet
deep at our crossing, and perhaps a hundred feet wide. As was
frequently the case at such places, one of the mules got his pack,
consisting of sugar, thoroughly wet, and turned into molasses. One of
the guides informed me that this was a "salmon-water," and pointed out
several ingeniously-contrived places to catch the fish; among the pines
in the bottom I saw an immense one, about twelve feet in diameter. A
steep ascent from the opposite bank delayed us again; and as, by the
information of our guides, grass would soon become very scarce, we
encamped on the height of land, in a marshy place among the pines,
where there was an abundance of grass. We found here a single Nez Perce
family, who had a very handsome horse in their drove, which we
endeavored to obtain in exchange for a good cow; but the man "had two
hearts," or, rather, he had one and his wife had another: she wanted
the cow, but he loved the horse too much to part with it. These people
attach great value to cattle, with which they are endeavoring to supply
themselves.

2d.--In the first rays of the sun, the mountain peaks this morning
presented a beautiful appearance, the snow being entirely covered with
a hue of rosy gold. We traveled to-day over a very stony, elevated
plain, about which were scattered cedar and pine, and encamped on
another branch of Fall river. We were gradually ascending to a more
elevated region, which would have been indicated by the rapidly
increasing quantities of snow and ice, had we not known it by other
means. A mule, which was packed with our cooking-utensils, wandered off
among the pines unperceived, and several men were sent back to search
for it.

3d.--Leaving Mr. Fitzpatrick with the party, I went ahead with the
howitzer and a few men, in order to gain time, as our progress with the
gun was necessarily slower. The country continued the same--very stony,
with cedar and pine; and we rode on until dark, when we encamped on a
hill-side covered with snow, which we used to-night for water, as we
were unable to reach any stream.

4th.--Our animals had taken the back track, although a great number
were hobbled; and we were consequently delayed until noon. Shortly
after we had left this encampment, the mountain trail from the Dalles
joined that on which we were traveling. After passing for several miles
over an artemisia plain, the trail entered a beautiful pine forest,
through which we traveled for several hours; and about 4 o'clock
descended into the valley of another large branch, on the bottom of
which were spaces of open pines, with occasional meadows of good grass,
in one of which we encamped. The stream is very swift and deep, and
about 40 feet wide, and nearly half frozen over. Among the timber here,
are larches 140 feet high, and over three feet in diameter. We had
to-night the rare sight of a lunar rainbow.

5th.--To-day the country was all pine forest, and beautiful weather
made our journey delightful. It was too warm at noon for winter
clothes; and the snow, which lay everywhere in patches through the
forest, was melting rapidly. After a few hours' ride, we came upon a
fine stream in the midst of the forest, which proved to be the
principal branch of the Fall river. It was occasionally 200 feet
wide--sometimes narrowed to 50 feet--the waters very clear, and
frequently deep. We ascended along the river, which sometimes presented
sheets of foaming cascades--its banks occasionally blackened with
masses of scoriated rock--and found a good encampment on the verge of
open bottom, which had been an old camping-ground of the Cayuse
Indians. A great number of deer-horns were lying about, indicating game
in the neighborhood. The timber was uniformly large, some of the pines
measuring 22 feet in circumference at the ground, and 12 to 13 feet at
six feet above.

In all our journeying, we had never traveled through a country where
the rivers were so abounding in falls; and the name of this stream is
singularly characteristic. At every place where we come in the
neighborhood of the river, is heard the roaring of falls. The rock
along the banks of the stream, and the ledge over which it falls, is a
scoriated basalt, with a bright metallic fracture. The stream goes over
in one clear pitch, succeeded by a foaming cataract of several hundred
yards. In a little bottom above the falls, a small stream discharges
into an _entonnoir_, and disappears below.

We made an early encampment, and in the course of the evening Mr.
Fitzpatrick joined us here with the lost mule. Our lodge-poles were
nearly worn out, and we found here a handsome set, leaning against one
of the trees, very white, and cleanly scraped. Had the owners been
here, we would have purchased them; but as they were not, we merely
left the old ones in their place, with a small quantity of tobacco.

6th.--The morning was frosty and clear. We continued up the stream on
undulating forest ground, over which there was scattered much falling
timber. We met here a village of Nez Perce Indians, who appeared to be
coming down from the mountains, and had with them fine bands of horses.
With them were a few Snake Indians of the root-digging species. From
the forest we emerged into an open valley ten or twelve miles wide,
through which the stream was flowing tranquilly, upwards of two hundred
feet broad, with occasional islands, and bordered with fine broad
bottoms. Crossing the river, which here issues from a great mountain
ridge on the right, we continued up the southern and smaller branch
over a level country, consisting of fine meadow-land, alternating with
pine forests, and encamped on it early in the evening. A warm sunshine
made the day pleasant.

7th.--To-day we had good traveling ground, the trail leading sometimes
over rather sandy soils in the pine forest, and sometimes over
meadow-land along the stream. The great beauty of the country in summer
constantly suggested itself to our imaginations; and even now we found
it beautiful, as we rode along these meadows, from half a mile to two
miles wide. The rich soil and excellent water, surrounded by noble
forests, make a picture that would delight the eye of a farmer.

I observed to-night an occultation of _a Geminorum_; which, although at
the bright limb of the moon, appears to give a very good result, that
has been adopted for the longitude. The occultation, observations of
satellites, and our position deduced from daily surveys with the
compass, agree remarkably well together, and mutually support and
strengthen each other. The latitude of the camp is 43° 30' 36"; and
longitude, deduced from the occultation, 121° 33' 50".

8th.--To-day we crossed the last branch of the Fall river, issuing,
like all the others we had crossed, in a southwesterly direction from
the mountains. Our direction was a little east of south, the trail
leading constantly through pine forests. The soil was generally bare,
consisting, in greater part, of a yellowish-white pumice-stone,
producing varieties of magnificent pines, but not a blade of grass; and
to-night our horses were obliged to do without food, and use snow for
water. These pines are remarkable for the red color of the bolls; and
among them occurs a species of which the Indians had informed me when
leaving the Dalles. The unusual size of the cone (16 or 18 inches long)
had attracted their attention; and they pointed it out to me among the
curiosities of the country. They are more remarkable for their large
diameter than their height, which usually averages only about 120 feet.
The leaflets are short--only two or three inches long, and five in a
sheath; the bark of a red color.

9th.--The trail leads always through splendid pine forests. Crossing
dividing grounds by a very fine road, we descended very gently towards
the south. The weather was pleasant, and we halted late. The soil was
very much like that of yesterday; and on the surface of a hill near our
encampment, were displayed beds of pumice-stone; but the soil produced
no grass, and again the animals fared badly.

10th.--The country began to improve; and about eleven o'clock we
reached a spring of cold water on the edge of a savannah, or grassy
meadow, which our guides informed us was an arm of the Tlamath lake;
and a few miles further we entered upon an extensive meadow, or lake of
grass, surrounded by timbered mountains. This was the Tlamath lake. It
was a picturesque and beautiful spot, and rendered more attractive to
us by the abundant and excellent grass, which our animals, after
traveling through pine forests, so much needed; but the broad sheet of
water which constitutes a lake was not to be seen. Overlooking it,
immediately west, were several snowy knobs, belonging to what we have
considered a branch of the Cascade range. A low point, covered with
pines, made out into the lake, which afforded us a good place for an
encampment, and for the security of our horses, which were guarded in
view on the open meadow. The character of courage and hostility
attributed to the Indians in this quarter induced more than usual
precaution; and, seeing smokes rising from the middle of the lake (or
savannah) and along the opposite shores, I directed the howitzer to be
fired. It was the first time our guides had seen it discharged; and the
bursting of the shell at a distance, which was something like the
second fire of the gun, amazed and bewildered them with delight. It
inspired them with triumphant feelings; but on the camps at a distance
the effect was different, for the smokes in the lake and on the shores
immediately disappeared.

The point on which we were encamped forms, with the opposite eastern
shore, a narrow neck, connecting the body of the lake with a deep cove
or bay which receives the principal affluent stream, and over the
greater part of which the water (or rather ice) was at this time
dispersed in shallow pools. Among the grass, and scattered over the
prairie lake, appeared to be similar marshes. It is simply a shallow
basin, which, for a short period at the time of melting snows, is
covered with water from the neighboring mountains; but this probably
soon runs off, and leaves for the remainder of the year a green
savannah, through the midst of which the river Tlamath, which flows to
the ocean, winds its way to the outlet on the south-western side.

11th.--No Indians made their appearance, and I determined to pay them a
visit. Accordingly the people were gathered together, and we rode out
towards the village in the middle of the lake which one of our guides
had previously visited. It could not be directly approached, as a large
part of the lake appeared a marsh; and there were sheets of ice among
the grass on which our horses could not keep their footing. We
therefore followed the guide for a considerable distance along the
forest; and then turned off towards the village, which we soon began to
see was a few large huts, on the tops of which were collected the
Indians. When we had arrived within half a mile of the village, two
persons were seen advancing to meet us; and, to please the fancy of our
guides, we ranged ourselves into a long line, riding abreast, while
they galloped ahead to meet the strangers.

We were surprised, on riding up, to find one of them a woman, having
never before known a squaw to take any part in the business of war.
They were the village chief and his wife, who, in excitement and alarm
at the unusual event and appearance, had come out to meet their fate
together. The chief was a very prepossessing Indian, with handsome
features, and a singularly soft and agreeable voice--so remarkable as
to attract general notice.

The huts were grouped together on the bank of the river which, from
being spread out in a shallow marsh at the upper end of the lake, was
collected here into a single stream. They were large round huts,
perhaps 20 feet in diameter, with rounded tops, on which was the door
by which they descended into the interior. Within, they were supported
by posts and beams.

Almost like plants, these people seem to have adapted themselves to the
soil, and to be growing on what the immediate locality afforded. Their
only subsistence at the time appeared to be a small fish, great
quantities of which, that had been smoked and dried, were suspended on
strings about the lodge. Heaps of straw were lying around; and their
residence in the midst of grass and rushes had taught them a peculiar
skill in converting this material to useful purposes. Their shoes were
made of straw or grass, which seemed well adapted for a snowy country;
and the women wore on their heads a closely-woven basket, which made a
very good cap. Among other things, were party-colored mats about four
feet square, which we purchased to lay on the snow under our blankets,
and to use for table-cloths.

Numbers of singular-looking dogs, resembling wolves, were sitting on
the tops of the huts; and of these we purchased a young one, which,
after its birthplace, was named Tlamath. The language spoken by these
Indians is different from that of the Shoshonee and Columbia River
tribes; and otherwise than by signs they cannot understand each other.
They made us comprehend that they were at war with the people who lived
to the southward and to the eastward; but I could obtain from them no
certain information. The river on which they live enters the Cascade
mountains on the western side of the lake, and breaks through them by a
passage impracticable for travelers; but over the mountains, to the
northward, are passes which present no other obstacle than in the
almost impenetrable forests. Unlike any Indians we had previously seen,
these wore shells in their noses. We returned to our camp, after
remaining here an hour or two, accompanied by a number of Indians.

In order to recruit a little the strength of our animals, and obtain
some acquaintance with the locality, we remained here for the remainder
of the day. By observation, the latitude of the camp was 42° 56' 51",
and the diameter of the lake, or meadow, as has been intimated, about
20 miles. It is a picturesque and beautiful spot, and, under the hand
of cultivation, might become a little paradise. Game is found in the
forest, timbered and snowy mountains skirt it, and fertility
characterizes it. Situated near the heads of three rivers, and on the
line of inland communication with California, and near to Indians noted
for treachery, it will naturally, in the progress of the settlement of
Oregon, become a point for military occupation and settlement.

From Tlamath lake, the further continuation of our voyage assumed a
character of discovery and exploration, which, from the Indians here,
we could obtain no information to direct, and where the imaginary maps
of the country, instead of assisting, exposed us to suffering and
defeat. In our journey across the desert, Mary's lake, and the famous
Buenaventura river, were two points on which I relied to recruit the
animals and repose the party. Forming, agreeably to the best maps in my
possession, a connected water-line from the Rocky mountains to the
Pacific ocean, I felt no other anxiety than to pass safely across the
intervening desert to the banks of the Buenaventura, where, in the
softer climate of a more southern latitude, our horses might find grass
to sustain them, and ourselves be sheltered from the rigors of winter,
and from the inhospitable desert. The guides who had conducted us thus
far on our journey were about to return; and I endeavored in vain to
obtain others to lead us, even for a few days, in the direction (east)
which we wished to go. The chief to whom I applied alleged the want of
horses, and the snow on the mountains across which our course would
carry us, and the sickness of his family, as reasons for refusing to go
with us.

12th.--This morning the camp was thronged with Tlamath Indians from the
southeastern shore of the lake; but, knowing the treacherous
disposition which is a remarkable characteristic of the Indians south
of the Columbia, the camp was kept constantly on its guard. I was not
unmindful of the disasters which Smith and other travelers had met with
in this country, and therefore was equally vigilant in guarding against
treachery and violence.

According to the best information I had been able to obtain from the
Indians, in a few days' traveling we should reach another large water,
probably a lake, which they indicated exactly in the course we were
about to pursue. We struck our tents at 10 o'clock, and crossed the
lake in a nearly east direction, where it has the least extension--the
breadth of the arm being here only about a mile and a half. There were
ponds of ice, with but little grass, for the greater part of the way,
and it was difficult to get the pack-animals across, which fell
frequently, and could not get up with their loads, unassisted. The
morning was very unpleasant, snow falling at intervals in large flakes,
and the sky dark. In about two hours we succeeded in getting the
animals over; and, after traveling another hour along the eastern shore
of the lake, we turned up into a cove where there was a sheltered place
among the timber, with good grass, and encamped. The Indians, who had
accompanied us so far, returned to their village on the south-eastern
shore. Among the pines here, I noticed some five or six feet in
diameter.

13th.--The night has been cold; the peaks around the lake gleam out
brightly in the morning sun, and the thermometer is at zero. We
continued up the hollow formed by a small affluent to the lake, and
immediately entered an open pine forest on the mountain. The way here
was sometimes obstructed by fallen trees, and the snow was four to
twelve inches deep. The mules at the gun pulled heavily, and walking
was a little laborious. In the midst of the wood, we heard the sound of
galloping horses, and were agreeably surprised by the unexpected
arrival of our Tlamath chief with several Indians. He seemed to have
found his conduct inhospitable in letting the strangers depart without
a guide through the snow, and had come, with a few others, to pilot us
a day or two on the way. After traveling in an easterly direction
through the forest for about four hours, we reached a considerable
stream, with a border of good grass; and here, by the advice of our
guides, we encamped. It is about thirty feet wide, and two to four feet
deep, the water clear, with some current; and, according to the
information of our Indians, is the principal affluent to the lake, and
the head-water of the Tlamath river.

A very clear sky enabled me to obtain here to-night good observations,
including an emersion of the first satellite of Jupiter, which gave for
the long. 121° 20' 42", and for the lat. 42° 51' 26". This emersion
coincides remarkably well with the result obtained from an occultation
at the encampment of December 7th to 8th, 1843; from which place, the
line of our survey gives an easting of 13 miles. The day's journey was
12 miles.

14th.--Our road was over a broad mountain, and we rode seven hours in a
thick snow-storm, always through pine forests, when we came down upon
the head-waters of another stream, on which there was grass. The snow
lay deep on the ground, and only the high swamp-grass appeared above.
The Indians were thinly clad, and I had remarked during the day that
they suffered from cold. This evening they told me that the snow was
getting too deep on the mountain, and I could not induce them to go any
farther. The stream we had struck issued from the mountain in an
easterly direction, turning to the southward a short distance below;
and, drawing its course upon the ground, they made us comprehend that
it pursued its way for a long distance in that direction, uniting with
many other streams, and gradually becoming a great river. Without the
subsequent information, which confirmed the opinion, we became
immediately satisfied that this water formed the principal stream of
the Sacramento river; and, consequently, that this main affluent of the
bay of San Francisco had its source within the limits of the United
States, and opposite a tributary to the Columbia, and near the head of
the Tlamath river, which goes to the ocean north of 42°, and within the
United States.

15th.--A present, consisting of useful goods, afforded much
satisfaction to our guides; and, showing them the national flag, I
explained that it was a symbol of our nation; and they engaged always
to receive it in a friendly manner. The chief pointed out a course, by
following which we would arrive at the big water, where no more snow
was to be found. Traveling in a direction N. 60° E. by compass, which
the Indians informed me would avoid a bad mountain to the right, we
crossed the Sacramento where it turned to the southward, and entered a
grassy level plain--a smaller Grand Rond; from the lower end of which
the river issued into an inviting country of low rolling hills.
Crossing a hard-frozen swamp on the farther side of the Rond, we
entered again the pine forest, in which very deep snow made our
traveling slow and laborious. We were slowly but gradually ascending a
mountain; and, after a hard journey of seven hours, we came to some
naked places among the timber, where a few tufts of grass showed above
the snow, on the side of a hollow; and here we encamped. Our cow, which
every day got poorer, was killed here, but the meat was rather tough.

16th.--We traveled this morning through snow about three feet deep,
which, being crusted, very much cut the feet of our animals. The
mountain still gradually rose; we crossed several spring heads covered
with quaking asp; otherwise it was all pine forest. The air was dark
with falling snow, which everywhere weighed down the trees. The depths
of the forest were profoundly still; and below, we scarcely felt a
breath of the wind which whirled the snow through their branches. I
found that it required some exertion of constancy to adhere steadily to
one course through the woods, when we were uncertain how far the forest
extended, or what lay beyond; and, on account of our animals, it would
be bad to spend another night on the mountain. Towards noon the forest
looked clear ahead, appearing suddenly to terminate; and beyond a
certain point we could see no trees. Riding rapidly ahead to this spot,
we found ourselves on the verge of a vertical and rocky wall of the
mountain. At our feet--more than a thousand feet below--we looked into
a green prairie country, in which a beautiful lake, some twenty miles
in length, was spread along the foot of the mountains, its shores
bordered with green grass. Just then the sun broke out among the
clouds, and illuminated the country below; while around us the storm
raged fiercely. Not a particle of ice was to be seen on the lake, or
snow on its borders, and all was like summer or spring. The glow of the
sun in the valley below brightened up our hearts with sudden pleasure;
and we made the woods ring with joyful shouts to those behind; and
gradually, as each came up, he stopped to enjoy the unexpected scene.
Shivering on snow three feet deep, and stiffening in a cold north wind,
we exclaimed at once that the names of Summer Lake and Winter Ridge
should be applied to these two proximate places of such sudden and
violent contrast.

We were now immediately on the verge of the forest land, in which we
had been traveling so many days; and, looking forward to the east,
scarce a tree was to be seen. Viewed from our elevation, the face of
the country exhibited only rocks and grass, and presented a region in
which the artemisia became the principal wood, furnishing to its
scattered inhabitants fuel for their fires, building material for their
huts, and shelter for the small game which ministers to their hunger
and nakedness. Broadly marked by the boundary at the mountain wall, and
immediately below us, were the first waters of that Great Interior
Basin which has the Wahsatch and Bear River mountains for its eastern,
and the Sierra Nevada for its western rim; and the edge of which we had
entered upwards of three months before, at the Great Salt Lake.

When we had sufficiently admired the scene below, we began to think
about descending, which here was impossible, and we turned towards the
north, traveling always along the rocky wall. We continued on for four
or five miles, making ineffectual attempts at several places; and at
length succeeded in getting down at one which was extremely difficult
of descent. Night had closed in before the foremost reached the bottom,
and it was dark before we all found ourselves together in the valley.
There were three or four half-dead dry cedar-trees on the shore, and
those who first arrived kindled bright fires to light on the others.
One of the mules rolled over and over two or three hundred feet into a
ravine, but recovered himself without any other injury than to his
pack; and the howitzer was left midway the mountain until morning. By
observation, the latitude of this encampment is 42° 57' 22". It delayed
us until near noon the next day to recover ourselves and put every
thing in order; and we made only a short camp along the western shore
of the lake, which, in the summer temperature we enjoyed to-day,
justified the name we had given it. Our course would have taken us to
the other shore, and over the highlands beyond; but I distrusted the
appearance of the country, and decided to follow a plainly-beaten
Indian trail leading along this side of the lake. We were now in a
country where the scarcity of water and of grass makes traveling
dangerous, and great caution was necessary.

18th.--We continued on the trail along the narrow strip of land between
the lake and the high rocky wall, from which we had looked down two
days before. Almost every half mile we crossed a little spring, or
stream of pure cold water, and the grass was certainly as fresh and
green as in the early spring. From the white efflorescence along the
shore of the lake, we were enabled to judge that the water was impure,
like that of lakes we subsequently found, but the mud prevented us from
approaching it. We encamped near the eastern point of the lake, where
there appeared between the hills a broad and low connecting hollow with
the country beyond. From a rocky hill in the rear, I could see, marked
out by a line of yellow dried grass, the bed of a stream, which
probably connected the lake with other waters in the spring.

The observed latitude of this encampment is 42° 42' 37".

19th.--After two hours' ride in an easterly direction, through a low
country, the high ridge with pine forest still to our right, and a
rocky and bald but lower one on the left, we reached a considerable
fresh-water stream, which issues from the piny mountains. So far as we
had been able to judge, between this stream and the lake we had crossed
dividing grounds, and there did not appear to be any connection, as
might be inferred from the impure condition of the lake water.

The rapid stream of pure water, roaring along between banks overhung
with aspens and willows, was a refreshing and unexpected sight; and we
followed down the course of the stream, which brought us soon into a
marsh, or dry lake, formed by the expanding waters of the stream. It
was covered with high reeds and rushes, and large patches of ground had
been turned up by the squaws in digging for roots, as if a farmer had
been preparing the land for grain. I could not succeed in finding the
plant for which they had been digging. There were frequent trails, and
fresh tracks of Indians; and, from the abundant signs visible, the
black-tailed hare appears to be numerous here. It was evident that, in
other seasons, this place was a sheet of water. Crossing this marsh
towards the eastern hills, and passing over a bordering plain of heavy
sands, covered with artemisia, we encamped before sundown on the creek,
which here was very small, having lost its water in the marshy grounds.
We found here tolerably good grass. The wind to-night was high, and we
had no longer our huge pine fires, but were driven to our old resource
of small dried willows and artemisia. About 12 miles ahead, the valley
appears to be closed in by a high, dark-looking ridge.

20th.--Traveling for a few hours down the stream this morning, we
turned the point of a hill on our left, and came suddenly in sight of
another and much larger lake, which, along its eastern shore, was
closely bordered by the high black ridge which walled it in by a
precipitous face on this side. Throughout this region the face of the
country is characterized by these precipices of black volcanic rock,
generally enclosing the valleys of streams, and frequently terminating
the hills. Often, in the course of our journey, we would be tempted to
continue our road up the gentle ascent of a sloping hill, which, at the
summit, would terminate abruptly in a black precipice. Spread out over
a length of 20 miles, the lake, when we first came in view, presented a
handsome sheet of water, and I gave to it the name of Lake Abert, in
honor of the chief of the corps to which I belonged. The fresh-water
stream we had followed emptied into the lake by a little fall; and I
was doubtful for a moment whether to go on, or encamp at this place.
The miry ground in the neighborhood of the lake did not allow us to
examine the water conveniently, and, being now on the borders of a
desert country, we were moving cautiously. It was, however, still early
in the day, and I continued on trusting either that the water would be
drinkable or that we should find some little spring from the hill-side.
We were following an Indian trail which led along the steep rocky
precipice--a black ridge along the western shore holding out no
prospect whatever. The white efflorescences which lined the shore like
a bank of snow, and the disagreeable odor which filled the air as soon
as we came near, informed us too plainly that the water belonged to one
of those fetid salt lakes which are common in this region. We continued
until late in the evening to work along the rocky shore, but, as often
afterwards, the dry, inhospitable rock deceived us; and, halting on the
lake, we kindled up fires to guide those who were straggling along
behind. We tried the water, but it was impossible to drink it, and most
of the people to-night lay down without eating; but some of us, who had
always a great reluctance to close the day without supper, dug holes
along the shore, and obtained water, which, being filtered, was
sufficiently palatable to be used, but still retained much of its
nauseating taste. There was very little grass for the animals, the
shore being lined with a luxuriant growth of chenopodiaceous shrubs,
which burned with a quick bright flame, and made our firewood.

The next morning we had scarcely traveled two hours along the shore,
when we reached a place where the mountains made a bay, leaving at
their feet a low bottom around the lake. Here we found numerous
hillocks covered with rushes, in the midst of which were deep holes, or
springs, of pure water; and the bottom was covered with grass, which,
although of a salt and unwholesome quality, and mixed with saline
efflorescences, was still abundant, and made a good halting-place to
recruit our animals, and we accordingly encamped here for the remainder
of the day. I rode ahead several miles to ascertain if there was any
appearance of a water-course entering the lake, but found none, the
hills preserving their dry character, and the shore of the lake
sprinkled with the same white powdery substance, and covered with the
same shrubs. There were flocks of ducks on the lake, and frequent
tracks of Indians along the shore, where the grass had been recently
burnt by their fires.

We ascended the bordering mountain, in order to obtain a more perfect
view of the lake, in sketching its figure: hills sweep entirely around
its basin, from which the waters have no outlet.

22d.--To-day we left this forbidding lake. Impassable rocky ridges
barred our progress to the eastward, and I accordingly bore off towards
the south, over an extensive sage-plain. At a considerable distance
ahead, and a little on our left, was a range of snowy mountains, and
the country declined gradually towards the foot of a high and nearer
ridge, immediately before us, which presented the feature of black
precipices now becoming common to the country. On the summit of the
ridge, snow was visible; and there being every indication of a stream
at its base, we rode on until after dark, but were unable to reach it,
and halted among the sage-bushes on the open plain, without either
grass or water. The two India-rubber bags had been filled with water in
the morning, which afforded sufficient for the camp; and rain in the
night formed pools, which relieved the thirst of the animals. Where we
encamped on the bleak sandy plain, the Indians had made huts or
circular enclosures, about four feet high and twelve feet broad, of
artemisia bushes. Whether these had been forts or houses, or what they
had been doing in such a desert place, we could not ascertain.

23d.--The weather is mild; the thermometer at daylight 38°; the wind
having been from the southward for several days. The country has a very
forbidding appearance, presenting to the eye nothing but sage, and
barren ridges. We rode up towards the mountain, along the foot of which
we found a lake, that we could not approach on account of the mud; and,
passing around its southern end, ascended the slope at the foot of the
ridge, where in some hollows we had discovered bushes and small
trees--in such situations, a sure sign of water. We found here several
springs, and the hill-side was well sprinkled with a species of
_festuca_--a better grass than we had found for many days. Our elevated
position gave us a good view over the country, but we discovered
nothing very encouraging. Southward, about ten miles distant, was
another small lake, towards which a broad trail led along the ridge;
and this appearing to afford the most practicable route, I determined
to continue our journey in that direction.

24th.--We found the water at the lake tolerably pure, and encamped at
the farther end. There were some good grass and canes along the shore,
and the vegetables at this place consisted principally of
chenopodiaceous shrubs.

25th.--We were roused on Christmas morning by a discharge from the
small-arms and howitzer, with which our people saluted the day; and the
name of which we bestowed on the lake. It was the first time, perhaps,
in this remote and desolate region, in which it had been so
commemorated. Always, on days of religious or national commemoration,
our voyageurs expect some unusual allowance; and having nothing else, I
gave them each a little brandy, (which was carefully guarded, as one of
the most useful articles a traveler can carry,) with some coffee and
sugar, which here, where every eatable was a luxury, was sufficient to
make them a feast. The day was sunny and warm; and resuming our
journey, we crossed some slight dividing grounds into a similar basin,
walled in on the right by a lofty mountain ridge. The plainly-beaten
trail still continued, and occasionally we passed camping-grounds of
the Indians, which indicated to me that we were on one of the great
thoroughfares of the country. In the afternoon I attempted to travel in
a more eastern direction; but after a few laborious miles, was beaten
back into the basin by an impassable country. There were fresh Indian
tracks about the valley, and last night a horse was stolen. We encamped
on the valley bottom, where there was some cream-like water in ponds,
colored by a clay soil, and frozen over. Chenopodiaceous shrubs
constituted the growth, and made again our firewood. The animals were
driven to the hill, where there was tolerably good grass.

26th.--Our general course was again south. The country consists of
larger or smaller basins, into which the mountain waters run down,
forming small lakes: they present a perfect level, from which the
mountains rise immediately and abruptly. Between the successive basins,
the dividing grounds are usually very slight; and it is probable that
in the seasons of high water, many of these basins are in
communication. At such times there is evidently an abundance of water,
though now we find scarcely more than the dry beds. On either side, the
mountains, though not very high, appear to be rocky and sterile. The
basin in which we were traveling declined towards the southwest corner,
where the mountains indicated a narrow outlet; and, turning round a
rocky point or cape, we continued up a lateral branch valley, in which
we encamped at night, on a rapid, pretty little stream of fresh water,
which we found unexpectedly among the sage, near the ridge, on the
right side of the valley. It was bordered with grassy bottoms and
clumps of willows; the water partially frozen. This stream belongs to
the basin we had left. By a partial observation to-night, our camp was
found to be directly on the 42d parallel. To-night a horse belonging to
Carson, one of the best we had in the camp, was stolen by the Indians.

27th.--We continued up the valley of the stream, the principal branch
of which here issues from a bed of high mountains. We turned up a
branch to the left, and fell into an Indian trail, which conducted us
by a good road over open bottoms along the creek, where the snow was
five or six inches deep. Gradually ascending, the trail led through a
good broad pass in the mountain, where we found the snow about one foot
deep. There were some remarkably large cedars in the pass, which were
covered with an unusual quantity of frost, which we supposed might
possibly indicate the neighborhood of water; and as, in the arbitrary
position of Mary's lake, we were already beginning to look for it, this
circumstance contributed to our hope of finding it near. Descending
from the mountain, we reached another basin, on the flat lake bed of
which we found no water, and encamped among the sage on the bordering
plain, where the snow was still about one foot deep. Among this the
grass was remarkably green, and to-night the animals fared tolerably
well.

28th.--The snow being deep, I had determined, if any more horses were
stolen, to follow the tracks of the Indians into the mountains, and put
a temporary check to their sly operations; but it did not occur again.

Our road this morning lay down a level valley, bordered by steep
mountainous ridges, rising very abruptly from the plain. Artemisia was
the principal plant, mingled with Fremontia and the chenopodiaceous
shrubs. The artemisia was here extremely large, being sometimes a foot
in diameter, and eight feet high. Riding quietly along over the snow,
we came suddenly upon smokes rising among these bushes; and, galloping
up, we found two huts, open at the top, and loosely built of sage,
which appeared to have been deserted at the instant; and, looking
hastily around, we saw several Indians on the crest of the ridge near
by, and several others scrambling up the side. We had come upon them so
suddenly, that they had been well-nigh surprised in their lodges. A
sage fire was burning in the middle; a few baskets made of straw were
lying about, with one or two rabbit-skins; and there was a little grass
scattered about, on which they had been lying. "Tabibo--bo!" they
shouted from the hills--a word which, in the Snake language, signifies
_white_--and remained looking at us from behind the rocks. Carson and
Godey rode towards the hill, but the men ran off like deer. They had
been so much pressed, that a woman with two children had dropped behind
a sage-bush near the lodge, and when Carson accidentally stumbled upon
her, she immediately began screaming in the extremity of fear, and shut
her eyes fast to avoid seeing him. She was brought back to the lodge,
and we endeavored in vain to open a communication with the men. By dint
of presents, and friendly demonstrations, she was brought to calmness;
and we found that they belonged to the Snake nation, speaking the
language of that people. Eight or ten appeared to live together, under
the same little shelter; and they seemed to have no other subsistence
than the roots or seeds they might have stored up, and the hares which
live in the sage, and which they are enabled to track through the snow,
and are very skilful in killing. Their skins afford them a little
scanty covering. Herding together among bushes, and crouching almost
naked over a little sage fire, using their instinct only to procure
food, these may be considered, among human beings, the nearest approach
to the animal creation. We have reason to believe that these had never
before seen the face of a white man.

The day had been pleasant, but about two o'clock it began to blow; and
crossing a slight dividing ground we encamped on the sheltered side of
a hill, where there was good bunch-grass, having made a day's journey
of 24 miles. The night closed in, threatening snow; but the large
sage-bushes made bright fires.

29th.--The morning mild, and at 4 o'clock it commenced snowing. We took
our way across a plain, thickly covered with snow, towards a range of
hills in the southeast. The sky soon became so dark with snow, that
little could be seen of the surrounding country; and we reached the
summit of the hills in a heavy snow-storm. On the side we had
approached, this had appeared to be only a ridge of low hills and we
were surprised to find ourselves on the summit of a bed of broken
mountains, which, as far as the weather would permit us to see,
declined rapidly to some low country ahead, presenting a dreary and
savage character; and for a moment I looked around in doubt on the wild
and inhospitable prospect, scarcely knowing what road to take which
might conduct us to some place of shelter for the night. Noticing among
the hills the head of a grassy hollow, I determined to follow it, in
the hope that it would conduct us to a stream. We followed a winding
descent for several miles, the hollow gradually broadening into little
meadows, and becoming the bed of a stream as we advanced; and towards
night we were agreeably surprised by the appearance of a willow grove,
where we found a sheltered camp, with water and excellent and abundant
grass. The grass, which was covered by the snow on the bottom, was long
and green, and the face of the mountain had a more favorable character
in its vegetation, being smoother, and covered with good bunch-grass.
The snow was deep, and the night very cold. A broad trail had entered
the valley from the right, and a short distance below the camp were the
tracks where a considerable party of Indians had passed on horseback,
who had turned out to the left, apparently with the view of crossing
the mountains to the eastward.

30th.--After following the stream for a few hours in a southeasterly
direction, it entered a canon where we could not follow; but,
determined not to leave the stream, we searched a passage below, where
we could regain it, and entered a regular narrow valley. The water had
now more the appearance of a flowing creek; several times we passed
groves of willows, and we began to feel ourselves out of all
difficulty. From our position, it was reasonable to conclude that this
stream would find its outlet in Mary's lake, and conduct us into a
better country. We had descended rapidly, and here we found very little
snow. On both sides, the mountains showed often stupendous and
curious-looking rocks, which at several places so narrowed the valley,
that scarcely a pass was left for the camp. It was a singular place to
travel through--shut up in the earth, a sort of chasm, the little strip
of grass under our feet, the rough walls of bare rock on either hand,
and the narrow strip of sky above. The grass to-night was abundant, and
we encamped in high spirits.

31st.--After an hour's ride this morning, our hopes were once more
destroyed. The valley opened out, and before us again lay one of the
dry basins. After some search, we discovered a high-water outlet, which
brought us in a few miles, and by a descent of several hundred feet,
into a long, broad basin, in which we found the bed of the stream, and
obtained sufficient water by cutting the ice. The grass on the bottoms
was salt and unpalatable.

Here we concluded the year 1843, and our new year's eve was rather a
gloomy one. The result of our journey began to be very uncertain; the
country was singularly unfavorable to travel; the grasses being
frequently of a very unwholesome character, and the hoofs of our
animals were so worn and cut by the rocks, that many of them were lame,
and could scarcely be got along.



JANUARY.


New Year's day, 1844.--We continued down the valley, between a
dry-looking black ridge on the left, and a more snowy and high one on
the right. Our road was bad along the bottom, being broken by gullies
and impeded by sage, and sandy on the hills, where there is not a blade
of grass, nor does any appear on the mountains. The soil in many places
consists of a fine powdery sand, covered with a saline efflorescence;
and the general character of the country is desert. During the day we
directed our course towards a black cape, at the foot of which a column
of smoke indicated hot springs.

2d.--We were on the road early. The face of the country was hidden by
falling snow. We traveled along the bed of the stream, in some places
dry, in others covered with ice; the traveling being very bad, through
deep fine sand, rendered tenacious by a mixture of clay. The weather
cleared up a little at noon, and we reached the hot springs of which we
had seen the vapor the day before. There was a large field of the usual
salt grass here, peculiar to such places. The country otherwise is a
perfect barren, without a blade of grass, the only plant being some
dwarf Fremontias. We passed the rocky cape, a jagged broken point, bare
and torn. The rocks are volcanic, and the hills here have a burnt
appearance--cinders and coal occasionally appearing as at a
blacksmith's forge. We crossed the large dry bed of a muddy lake in a
southeasterly direction, and encamped at night, without water and
without grass, among sage-bushes covered with snow. The heavy road made
several mules give out to-day; and a horse, which had made the journey
from the States successfully, thus far, was left on the trail.

3d.--A fog, so dense that we could not see a hundred yards, covered the
country, and the men that were sent out after the horses were
bewildered and lost; and we were consequently detained at camp until
late in the day. Our situation had now become a serious one. We had
reached and run over the position where, according to the best maps in
my possession, we should have found Mary's lake or river. We were
evidently on the verge of the desert which had been reported to us; and
the appearance of the country was so forbidding, that I was afraid to
enter it, and determined to bear away to the southward, keeping close
along the mountains, in the full expectation of reaching the
Buenaventura river. This morning I put every man in the camp on
foot--myself, of course, among the rest--and in this manner lightened
by distribution the loads of the animals. We traveled seven or eight
miles along the ridge bordering the valley, and encamped where there
were a few bunches of grass on the bed of a hill-torrent, without
water. There were some large artemisias; but the principal plants are
chenopodiaceous shrubs. The rock composing the mountains is here
changed suddenly into white granite. The fog showed the tops of the
hills at sunset, and stars enough for observations in the early
evening, and then closed over us as before. Latitude by observation,
40° 48' 15".

4th.--The fog to-day was still more dense, and the people again were
bewildered. We traveled a few miles around the western point of the
ridge, and encamped where there were a few tufts of grass, but no
water. Our animals now were in a very alarming state, and there was
increased anxiety in the camp.

5th.--Same dense fog continued, and one of the mules died in camp this
morning. I have had occasion to remark, on such occasions as these,
that animals which are about to die leave the band, and, coming into
the camp; lie down about the fires. We moved to a place where there was
a little better grass, about two miles distant. Taplin, one of our best
men, who had gone out on a scouting excursion, ascended a mountain near
by, and to his surprise emerged into a region of bright sunshine, in
which the upper parts of the mountain were glowing, while below all was
obscured in the darkest fog.

6th.--The fog continued the same, and, with Mr. Preuss and Carson, I
ascended the mountain, to sketch the leading features of the country as
some indication of our future route, while Mr. Fitzpatrick explored the
country below. In a very short distance we had ascended above the mist,
but the view obtained was not very gratifying. The fog had partially
cleared off from below when we reached the summit; and in the southwest
corner of a basin communicating with that in which we had encamped, we
saw a lofty column of smoke, 16 miles distant, indicating the presence
of hot springs. There, also, appeared to be the outlet of those
draining channels of the country; and, as such places afforded always
more or less grass, I determined to steer in that direction. The ridge
we had ascended appeared to be composed of fragments of white granite.
We saw here traces of sheep and antelope.

Entering the neighboring valley, and crossing the bed of another lake,
after a hard day's travel over ground of yielding mud and sand, we
reached the springs, where we found an abundance of grass, which,
though only tolerably good, made this place, with reference to the
past, a refreshing and agreeable spot.

This is the most extraordinary locality of hot springs we had met
during the journey. The basin of the largest one has a circumference of
several hundred feet; but there is at one extremity a circular space of
about fifteen feet in diameter, entirely occupied by the boiling water.
It boils up at irregular intervals, and with much noise. The water is
clear, and the spring deep: a pole about sixteen feet long was easily
immersed in the centre; but we had no means of forming a good idea of
the depth. It was surrounded on the margin with a border of _green_
grass, and near the shore the temperature of the water was 206°. We had
no means of ascertaining that of the centre, where the heat was
greatest; but, by dispersing the water with a pole, the temperature at
the margin was increased to 208°, and in the centre it was doubtless
higher. By driving the pole towards the bottom, the water was made to
boil up with increased force and noise. There are several other
interesting places, where water and smoke or gas escape; but they would
require a long description. The water is impregnated with common salt,
but not so much as to render it unfit for general cooking; and a
mixture of snow made it pleasant to drink.

In the immediate neighborhood, the valley bottom is covered almost
exclusively with chenopodiaceous shrubs, of greater luxuriance, and
larger growth, than we have seen them in any preceding part of the
journey.

I obtained this evening some astronomical observations.

Our situation now required caution. Including those which gave out from
the injured condition of their feet, and those stolen by Indians, we
had lost, since leaving the Dalles of the Columbia, fifteen animals;
and of these, nine had been left in the last few days. I therefore
determined, until we should reach a country of water and vegetation, to
feel our way ahead, by having the line of route explored some fifteen
or twenty miles in advance, and only to leave a present encampment when
the succeeding one was known.

Taking with me Godey and Carson, I made to-day a thorough exploration
of the neighboring valleys, and found in a ravine, in the bordering
mountains, a good encamping place, where was water in springs, and a
sufficient quantity of grass for a night. Overshadowing the springs
were some trees of the sweet cottonwood, which, after a long interval
of absence, we saw again with pleasure; regarding them as harbingers of
a better country. To us, they were eloquent of green prairies and
buffalo. We found here a broad and plainly-marked trail, on which there
were tracks of horses, and we appeared to have regained one of the
thoroughfares which pass by the watering-places of the country. On the
western mountains of the valley, with which this of the boiling spring
communicates, we remarked scattered cedars--probably indicating that we
were on the borders of the timbered region extending to the Pacific. We
reached the camp at sunset, after a day's ride of about 40 miles. The
horses we rode were in good order, being of some that were kept for
emergencies, and rarely used.

Mr. Preuss had ascended one of the mountains, and occupied the day in
sketching the country; and Mr. Fitzpatrick had found, a few miles
distant, a hollow of excellent grass and pure water, to which the
animals were driven, as I remained another day to give them an
opportunity to recruit their strength. Indians appear to be everywhere
prowling about like wild animals, and there is a fresh trail across the
snow in the valley near.

Latitude of the boiling springs, 40° 39' 46".

On the 9th we crossed over to the cottonwood camp. Among the shrubs on
the hills were a few bushes of _ephedra occidentalis_, which afterwards
occurred frequently along the road, and, as usual, the lowlands were
occupied with artemisia. While the party proceeded to this place,
Carson and myself reconnoitred the road in advance, and found another
good encampment for the following day.

10th.--We continued our reconnoissance ahead, pursuing a south
direction in the basin along the ridge; the camp following slowly
after. On a large trail there is never any doubt of finding suitable
places for encampments. We reached the end of the basin, where we
found, in a hollow of the mountain which enclosed it, an abundance of
good bunch-grass. Leaving a signal for the party to encamp, we
continued our way up the hollow, intending to see what lay beyond the
mountain. The hollow was several miles long, forming a good pass; the
snow deepening to about a foot as we neared the summit. Beyond, a
defile between the mountains descended rapidly about two thousand feet;
and, filling up all the lower space, was a sheet of green water, some
twenty miles broad. It broke upon our eyes like the ocean. The
neighboring peaks rose high above us, and we ascended one of them to
obtain a better view. The waves were curling in the breeze, and their
dark-green color showed it to be a body of deep water. For a long time
we sat enjoying the view, for we had become fatigued with mountains,
and the free expanse of moving waves was very grateful. It was set like
a gem in the mountains, which, from our position, seemed to enclose it
almost entirely. At the western end it communicated with the line of
basins we had left a few days since; and on the opposite side it swept
a ridge of snowy mountains, the foot of the great Sierra. Its position
at first inclined us to believe it Mary's lake, but the rugged
mountains were so entirely discordant with descriptions of its low
rushy shores and open country, that we concluded it some unknown body
of water, which it afterwards proved to be.

On our road down, the next day, we saw herds of mountain sheep, and
encamped on a little stream at the mouth of the defile, about a mile
from the margin of the water, to which we hurried down immediately. The
water is so slightly salt, that, at first, we thought it fresh, and
would be pleasant to drink when no other could be had. The shore was
rocky--a handsome beach, which reminded us of the sea. On some large
_granite_ boulders that were scattered about the shore, I remarked a
coating of calcareous substance, in some places a few inches, and in
others a foot in thickness. Near our camp, the hills, which were of
primitive rock, were also covered with this substance, which was in too
great quantity on the mountains along the shore of the lake to have
been deposited by water, and has the appearance of having been spread
over the rocks in mass.

[Footnote: The label attached to a specimen of this rock was lost; but
I append an analysis of that which, from memory, I judge to be the
specimen:

Carbonate of lime------------------ 77.31 Carbonate of
magnesia--------------  5.25 Oxide of iron----------------------  1.60
Alumina----------------------------  1.05
Silica-----------------------------  8.55 Organic matter, water, and
loss----  6.24
                                   -------
                                   100.00]

Where we had halted appeared to be a favorite camping-place for Indians.

13th.--We followed again a broad Indian trail along the shore of the
lake to the southward. For a short space we had room enough in the
bottom; but, after traveling a short distance, the water swept the foot
of the precipitous mountains, the peaks of which are about 3,000 feet
above the lake. The trail wound along the base of these precipices,
against which the water dashed below, by a way nearly impracticable for
the howitzer. During a greater part of the morning the lake was nearly
hid by a snow-storm, and the waves broke on the narrow beach in a long
line of foaming serf, five or six feet high. The day was unpleasantly
cold, the wind driving the snow sharp against our faces; and, having
advanced only about 12 miles, we encamped in a bottom formed by a
ravine, covered with good grass, which was fresh and green.

We did not get the howitzer into camp, but were obliged to leave it on
the rocks until morning. We saw several flocks of sheep, but did not
succeed in killing any. Ducks were riding on the waves, and several
large fish were seen. The mountain sides were crusted with the
calcareous cement previously mentioned. There were chenopodiaceous and
other shrubs along the beach; and, at the foot of the rocks, an
abundance of _ephedra occidentalis_, whose dark-green color makes them
evergreens among the shrubby growth of the lake. Towards evening the
snow began to fall heavily, and the country had a wintry appearance.

The next morning the snow was rapidly melting under a warm sun. Part of
the morning was occupied in bringing up the gun; and, making only nine
miles, we encamped on the shore, opposite a very remarkable rock in the
lake, which had attracted our attention for many miles. It rose,
according to our estimate, 600 feet above the water, and, from the
point we viewed it, presented a pretty exact outline of the great
pyramid of Cheops. Like other rocks along the shore, it seemed to be
incrusted with calcareous cement. This striking feature suggested a
name for the lake, and I called it Pyramid Lake; and though it may be
deemed by some a fanciful resemblance, I can undertake to say that the
future traveler will find much more striking resemblance between this
rock and the pyramids of Egypt, than there is between them and the
object from which they take their name.

The elevation of this lake above the sea is 4,890 feet, being nearly
700 feet higher than the Great Salt lake, from which it lies nearly
west, and distant about eight degrees of longitude. The position and
elevation of this lake make it an object of geographical interest. It
is the nearest lake to the western rim, as the Great Salt lake is to
the eastern rim, of the Great Basin which lies between the base of the
Rocky mountains and the Sierra Nevada--and the extent and character of
which, its whole circumference and contents, it is so desirable to know.

The last of the cattle which had been driven from the Dalles was killed
here for food, and was still in good condition.

15th.--A few poor-looking Indians made their appearance this morning,
and we succeeded in getting one into the camp. He was naked, with the
exception of a tunic of hare-skins. He told us that there was a river
at the end of the lake, but that he lived in the rocks near by. From
the few words our people could understand, he spoke a dialect of the
Snake language; but we were not able to understand enough to know
Whether the river ran in or out, or what was its course; consequently,
there still remained a chance that this might be Mary's lake.

Groves of large cottonwood, which we could see at the mouth of the
river, indicated that it was a stream of considerable size, and, at all
events, we had the pleasure to know that now we were in a country where
human beings could live. Accompanied by the Indian, we resumed our
road, passing on the way several caves in the rock where there were
baskets and reeds, but the people had disappeared. We saw also
horse-tracks along the shore.

Early in the afternoon, when we were approaching the groves at the
mouth of the river, three or four Indians met us on the trail. We had
an explanatory conversation in signs, and then we moved on together
towards the village, which the chief said was encamped on the bottom.

Reaching the groves, we found the _inlet_ of a large freshwater stream,
and all at once were satisfied that it was neither Mary's river nor the
waters of the Sacramento, but that we had discovered a large interior
lake, which the Indians informed us had no outlet. It is about 35 miles
long, and, by the mark of the water-line along the shore, the spring
level is about 12 feet above its present waters. The chief commenced
speaking in a loud voice as we approached; and parties of Indians,
armed with bows and arrows, issued from the thickets. We selected a
strong place for our encampment--a grassy bottom, nearly enclosed by
the river, and furnished with abundant firewood. The village, a
collection of straw huts, was a few hundred yards higher up. An Indian
brought in a large fish to trade, which we had the inexpressible
satisfaction to find was a salmon-trout; we gathered round him eagerly.
The Indians were amused with our delight, and immediately brought in
numbers, so that the camp was soon stocked. Their flavor was
excellent--superior, in fact, to that of any fish I have ever known.
They were of extraordinary size--about as large as the Columbia River
salmon--generally from two to four feet in length. From the information
of Mr. Walker, who passed among some lakes lying more to the eastward,
this fish is common to the streams of the inland lakes. He subsequently
informed me that he had obtained them weighing six pounds when cleaned
and the head taken off, which corresponds very well with the size of
those obtained at this place. They doubtless formed the subsistence of
these people, who hold the fishery in exclusive possession.

I remarked that one of them gave a fish to the Indian we had first
seen, which he carried off to his family. To them it was probably a
feast; being of the Digger tribe, and having no share in the fishery,
living generally on seeds and roots. Although this was a time of the
year when the fish have not yet become fat, they were excellent, and we
could only imagine what they are at the proper season. These Indians
were very fat, and appeared to live an easy and happy life. They
crowded into the camp more than was consistent with our safety,
retaining always their arms; and, as they made some unsatisfactory
demonstrations, they were given to understand that they would not be
permitted to come armed into the camp; and strong guards were kept with
the horses. Strict vigilance was maintained among the people, and
one-third at a time were kept on guard during the night. There is no
reason to doubt that these dispositions, uniformly preserved, conducted
our party securely through Indians famed for treachery.

In the mean time, such a salmon-trout feast as is seldom seen was going
on in our camp; and every variety of manner in which fish could be
prepared--boiled, fried, and roasted in the ashes--was put into
requisition; and every few minutes an Indian would be seen running off
to spear a fresh one. Whether these Indians had seen whites before, we
could not be certain; but they were evidently in communication with
others who had, as one of them had some brass buttons, and we noticed
several other articles of civilized manufacture. We could obtain from
them but little information respecting the country. They made on the
ground a drawing of the river, which they represented as issuing from
another lake in the mountains three or four days distant, in a
direction a little west of south; beyond which, they drew a mountain;
and further still, two rivers; on one of which they told us that people
like ourselves traveled. Whether they alluded to the settlements on the
Sacramento, or to a party from the United States which had crossed the
Sierra about three degrees to the southward, a few years since, I am
unable to determine.

I tried unsuccessfully to prevail on some of them to guide us for a few
days on the road, but they only looked at each other and laughed.

The latitude of our encampment, which may be considered the mouth of
the inlet, is 39° 51' 13" by our observations.

16th.--This morning we continued our journey along this beautiful
stream, which we naturally called the Salmon Trout river. Large trails
led up on either side; the stream was handsomely timbered with large
cottonwoods; and the waters were very clear and pure. We were traveling
along the mountains of the great Sierra, which rose on our right,
covered with snow; but below the temperature was mild and pleasant. We
saw a number of dams which the Indians had constructed to catch fish.
After having made about 18 miles, we encamped under some large
cottonwoods on the river bottom, where there was tolerably good grass.

17th.--This morning we left the river, which here issues from mountains
on the west. With every stream I now expected to see the great
Buenaventura; and Carson hurried eagerly to search, on every one we
reached, for beaver cuttings, which he always maintained we should find
only on waters that ran to the Pacific; and the absence of such signs
was to him a sure indication that the water had no outlet from the
Great Basin. We followed the Indian trail through a tolerably level
country, with small sage-bushes, which brought us, after 20 miles'
journey, to another large stream, timbered with cottonwood, and flowing
also out of the mountains, but running more directly to the eastward.

On the way we surprised a family of Indians in the hills; but the man
ran up the mountain with rapidity; and the woman was so terrified, and
kept up such a continued screaming, that we could do nothing with her,
and were obliged to let her go.

18th.--There were Indian lodges and fish-dams on the stream. There were
no beaver cuttings on the river; but below, it turned round to the
right; and, hoping that it would prove a branch of the Buenaventura, we
followed it down for about three hours, and encamped.

I rode out with Mr. Fitzpatrick and Carson to reconnoitre the country,
which had evidently been alarmed by the news of our appearance. This
stream joined with the open valley of another to the eastward; but
which way the main water ran, it was impossible to tell. Columns of
smoke rose over the country at scattered intervals--signals by which
the Indians here, as elsewhere, communicate to each other that enemies
are in the country. It is a signal of ancient and very universal
application among barbarians.

Examining into the condition of the animals when I returned into the
camp, I found their feet so much cut up by the rocks, and so many of
them lame, that it was evidently impossible that they could cross the
country to the Rocky mountains. Every piece of iron that could be used
for the purpose had been converted into nails, and we could make no
further use of the shoes we had remaining. I therefore determined to
abandon my eastern course, and to cross the Sierra Nevada into the
valley of the Sacramento, wherever a practicable pass could be found.
My decision was heard with joy by the people, and diffused new life
throughout the camp.

Latitude, by observation, 39° 24' 16".

19th.--A great number of smokes are still visible this morning,
attesting at once the alarm our appearance had spread among these
people, and their ignorance of us. If they knew the whites, they would
understand that their only object in coming among them was to trade,
which required peace and friendship; but they have nothing to
trade--consequently, nothing to attract the white man; hence their fear
and flight.

At daybreak we had a heavy snow; but set out, and, returning up the
stream, went out of our way in a circuit over a little mountain; and
encamped on the same stream, a few miles above, in latitude 39° 19' 21"
by observation.

20th.--To-day we continued up the stream, and encamped on it close to
the mountains. The freshly fallen snow was covered with the tracks of
Indians, who had descended from upper waters, probably called down by
the smokes in the plain.

We ascended a peak of the range, which commanded a view of this stream
behind the first ridge, where it was winding its course through a
somewhat open valley, and I sometimes regret that I did not make the
trial to cross here; but while we had fair weather below, the mountains
were darkened with falling snow, and, feeling unwilling to encounter
them, we turned away again to the southward. In that direction we
traveled the next day over a tolerably level country, having always the
high mountains on the west. There was but little snow or rock on the
ground; and, after having traveled 24 miles, we encamped again on
another large stream, running off to the northward and eastward, to
meet that we had left. It ran through broad bottoms, having a fine
meadow-land appearance.

Latitude 39° 01' 53".

22d.--We traveled up the stream about fourteen miles, to the foot of
the mountains, from which one branch issued in the southwest, the other
flowing S.S.E. along their base. Leaving camp below, we ascended the
range through which the first stream passed, in a canon; on the western
side was a circular valley about 15 miles long, through which the
stream wound its way, issuing from a gorge in the main mountain, which
rose abruptly beyond. The valley looked yellow with faded grass; and
the trail we had followed was visible, making towards the gorge, and
this was evidently a pass; but again, while all was bright sunshine on
the ridge and on the valley where we were, the snow was falling heavily
in the mountains. I determined go still to the southward, and encamped
on the stream near the forks, the animals being fatigued and the grass
tolerably good.

The rock of the ridge we had ascended is a compact lava, assuming a
granitic appearance and structure, and containing, in some places,
small nodules of obsidian. So far as composition and aspect are
concerned, the rock in other parts of the ridge appears to be granite;
but it is probable that this is only a compact form of lava of recent
origin.

By observation, the elevation of the encampment was 5,020 feet; and the
latitude 38° 49' 54".

23d.--We moved along the course of the other branch towards the
southeast, the country affording a fine road; and, passing some slight
dividing-grounds, descended towards the valley of another stream. There
was a somewhat rough-looking mountain ahead, which it appeared to issue
from, or to enter--we could not tell which; and as the course of the
valley and the inclination of the ground had a favorable direction, we
were sanguine to find here a branch of the Buenaventura; but were again
disappointed, finding it an inland water, on which we encamped after a
day's journey of 24 miles. It was evident that, from the time we
descended into the plain at Summer lake, we had been flanking the great
range of mountains which divided the Great Basin from the waters of the
Pacific; and that the continued succession, and almost connection, of
lakes and rivers which we encountered, were the drainings of that
range. Its rains, springs, and snows, would sufficiently account for
these lakes and streams, numerous as they were.

24th.--A man was discovered running towards the camp as we were about
to start this morning, who proved to be an Indian of rather advanced
age--a sort of forlorn hope, who seemed to have been worked up into the
resolution of visiting the strangers who were passing through the
country. He seized the hand of the first man he met as he came up, out
of breath, and held on, as if to assure himself of protection. He
brought with him, in a little skin bag, a few pounds of the seeds of a
pine-tree, which to-day we saw for the first time, and which Dr. Torrey
has described as a new species, under the name of _pinus monophyllus_;
in popular language it might be called the _nut pine_. We purchased
them all from him. The nut is oily, of very agreeable flavor, and must
be very nutritious, as it constitutes the principal subsistence of the
tribes among which we were now traveling. By a present of scarlet
cloth, and other striking articles, we prevailed upon this man to be
our guide of two days' journey. As clearly as possible by signs, we
made him understand our object; and he engaged to conduct us in sight
of a good pass which he knew. Here we ceased to hear the Shoshonee
language--that of this man being perfectly unintelligible. Several
Indians, who had been waiting to see what reception he would meet with,
now came into camp; and, accompanied by the new-comers, we resumed our
journey.

The road led us up the creek, which here becomes a rather rapid
mountain stream, fifty feet wide, between dark-looking hills without
snow; but immediately beyond them rose snowy mountains on either side,
timbered principally with the nut pine. On the lower grounds, the
general height of this tree is twelve to twenty feet, and eight inches
the greatest diameter; it is rather branching, and has a peculiar and
singular, but pleasant odor. We followed the river for only a short
distance along a rocky trail, and crossed it at a dam which the Indians
made us comprehend had been built to catch salmon trout. The snow and
ice were heaped up against it three or four feet deep entirely across
the stream.

Leaving here the stream, which runs through impassable canons, we
continued our road over a very broken country, passing through a low
gap between the snowy mountains. The rock which occurs immediately in
the pass has the appearance of impure sandstone, containing scales of
black mica. This may be only a stratified lava. On issuing from the
gap, the compact lava, and other volcanic products usual in the
country, again occurred. We descended from the gap into a wide valley,
or rather basin, and encamped on a small tributary to the last stream,
on which there was very good grass. It was covered with such thick ice,
that it required some labor with pickaxes to make holes for the animals
to drink. The banks are lightly wooded with willow, and on the upper
bottoms are sage and Fremontia, with _ephedra occidentalis_, which
begins to occur more frequently. The day has been a summer one, warm
and pleasant; no snow on the trail, which, as we are all on foot, makes
traveling more agreeable. The hunters went into a neighboring mountain,
but found no game. We have five Indians in camp to-night.

25th.--The morning was cold and bright, and as the sun rose the day
became beautiful. A party of twelve Indians came down from the
mountains to trade pine nuts, of which each one carried a little bag.
These seemed now to be the staple of the country; and whenever we met
an Indian, his friendly salutation consisted in offering a few nuts to
eat and to trade; their only arms were bows and flint-pointed arrows.
It appeared that in almost all the valleys the neighboring bands were
at war with each other; and we had some difficulty in prevailing on our
guides to accompany us on this day's journey, being at war with the
people on the other side of a large snowy mountain which lay before us.

The general level of the country appeared to be getting higher, and we
were gradually entering the heart of the mountains. Accompanied by all
the Indians, we ascended a long ridge, and reached a pure spring at the
edge of the timber, where the Indians had waylaid and killed an
antelope, and where the greater part of them left us. Our pacific
conduct had quieted their alarms; and though at war among each other,
yet all confided in us--thanks to the combined effects of power and
kindness--for our arms inspired respect, and our little presents and
good treatment conciliated their confidence. Here we suddenly entered
snow six inches deep, and the ground was a little rocky, with volcanic
fragments, the mountain appearing to be composed of such rock. The
timber consists principally of nut pines, (_pinus monophyllus_,) which
here are of larger size--12 to 15 inches in diameter; heaps of cones
lying on the ground, where the Indians have gathered the seeds.

The snow deepened gradually as we advanced. Our guides wore out their
moccasins; and putting one of them on a horse, we enjoyed the unusual
sight of an Indian who could not ride. He could not even guide the
animal, and appeared to have no knowledge of horses. The snow was three
or four feet deep on the summit of the, pass; and from this point the
guide pointed out our future road, declining to go any further. Below
us was a little valley; and beyond this the mountains rose higher
still, one ridge above another, presenting a rude and rocky outline. We
descended rapidly to the valley: the snow impeded us but little; yet it
was dark when we reached the foot of the mountain.

The day had been so warm that our moccasins were wet with melting snow;
but here, as soon as the sun begins to decline, the air gets suddenly
cold, and we had great difficulty to keep our feet from freezing--our
moccasins being frozen perfectly stiff. After a hard day's march of 27
miles, we reached the river some time after dark, and found the snow
about a foot deep on the bottom--the river being entirely frozen over.
We found a comfortable camp, where there were dry willows abundant, and
we soon had blazing fires. A little brandy, which I husbanded with
great care, remained, and I do not know any medicine more salutary, or
any drink (except coffee) more agreeable, than this in a cold night and
after a hard day's march. Mr. Preuss questioned whether the famed
nectar ever possessed so exquisite a flavor. All felt it to be a
reviving cordial.

The next morning, when the sun had not yet risen over the mountains,
the thermometer was at 2° below zero; but the sky was bright and pure,
and the weather changed rapidly into a pleasant day of summer. I
remained encamped in order to examine the country, and allow the
animals a day of rest, the grass being good and abundant under the snow.

The river is fifty or eighty feet wide, with a lively current, and very
clear water. It forked a little above our camp, one of its branches
coming directly from the south. At its head appeared to be a handsome
pass; and from the neighboring heights we could see, beyond, a
comparatively low and open country, which was supposed to form the
valley of the Buenaventura. The other branch issued from a nearer pass,
in a direction S. 75° W., forking at the foot of the mountain, and
receiving a part of its waters from a little lake. I was in advance of
the camp when our last guides had left us; but, so far as could be
understood, this was the pass which they had indicated, and, in company
with Carson, to-day I set out to explore it. Entering the range, we
continued in a northwesterly direction up the valley, which here bent
to the right. It was a pretty open bottom, locked between lofty
mountains, which supplied frequent streams as we advanced. On the lower
part they were covered with nut-pine trees, and above with masses of
pine, which we easily recognised, from the darker color of the foliage.
From the fresh trails which occurred frequently during the morning,
deer appeared to be remarkably numerous in the mountain.

We had now entirely left the desert country, and were on the verge of a
region which, extending westward to the shores of the Pacific, abounds
in large game, and is covered with a singular luxuriance of vegetable
life.

The little stream grew rapidly smaller, and in about twelve miles we
had reached its head, the last water coming immediately out of the
mountain on the right; and this spot was selected for our next
encampment. The grass showed well in sunny places; but in colder
situations the snow was deep, and began to occur in banks, through
which the horses found some difficulty in breaking a way.

To the left, the open valley continued in a southwesterly direction,
with a scarcely perceptible ascent, forming a beautiful pass, the
exploration of which we deferred until the next day, and returned to
the camp.

To-day an Indian passed through the valley, on his way into the
mountains, where he showed us was his lodge. We comprehended nothing of
his language; and, though he appeared to have no fear, passing along in
full view of the camp, he was indisposed to hold any communication with
us, but showed the way he was going, and pointed for us to go on our
road.

By observation, the latitude of this encampment was 38° 18' 01", and
the elevation above the sea 6,310 feet.

27th.--Leaving the camp to follow slowly, with directions to Carson to
encamp at the place agreed on, Mr. Fitzpatrick and myself continued the
reconnoissance. Arriving at the head of the stream, we began to enter
the pass--passing occasionally through open groves of large pine-trees,
on the warm side of the defile, where the snow had melted away,
occasionally exposing a large Indian trail. Continuing along a narrow
meadow, we reached, in a few miles, the gate of the pass, where there
was a narrow strip of prairie, about 50 yards wide, between walls of
granite rock. On either side rose the mountains, forming on the left a
rugged mass, or nucleus, wholly covered with deep snow, presenting a
glittering and icy surface. At the time, we supposed this to be the
point into which they were gathered between the two great rivers, and
from which the waters flowed off to the bay. This was the icy and cold
side of the pass, and the rays of the sun hardly touched the snow. On
the left, the mountains rose into peaks, but they were lower and
secondary, and the country had a somewhat more open and lighter
character. On the right were several hot springs, which appeared
remarkable in such a place. In going through, we felt impressed by the
majesty of the mountain, along the huge wall of which we were riding.
Here there was no snow; but immediately beyond was a deep bank, through
which we dragged our horses with considerable effort. We then
immediately struck upon a stream, which gathered itself rapidly, and
descended quick; and the valley did not preserve the open character of
the other side, appearing below to form a canon. We therefore climbed
one of the peaks on the right, leaving our horses below; but we were so
much shut up that we did not obtain an extensive view, and what we saw
was not very satisfactory, and awakened considerable doubt. The valley
of the stream pursued a northwesterly direction, appearing below to
turn sharply to the right, beyond which further view was cut off. It
was, nevertheless, resolved to continue our road the next day down this
valley, which we trusted still would prove that of the middle stream
between the two great rivers. Towards the summit of this peak, the
fields of snow were four or five feet deep on the northern side; and we
saw several large hares, which had on their winter color, being white
as the snow around them.

The winter day is short in the mountains, the sun having but a small
space of sky to travel over in the visible part above our horizon; and
the moment his rays are gone, the air is keenly cold. The interest of
our work had detained us long, and it was after nightfall when we
reached the camp.

28th.--To-day we went through the pass with all the camp, and, after a
hard day's journey of twelve miles, encamped on a high point where the
snow had been blown off, and the exposed grass afforded a scanty
pasture for the animals. Snow and broken country together made our
traveling difficult; we were often compelled to make large circuits,
and ascend the highest and most exposed ridges, in order to avoid snow,
which in other places was banked up to a great depth.

During the day a few Indians were seen circling around us on
snow-shoes, and skimming along like birds; but we could not bring them
within speaking distance. Godey, who was a little distance from the
camp, had sat down to tie his moccasins, when he heard a low whistle
near, and, looking up, saw two Indians half hiding behind a rock about
forty yards distant; they would not allow him to approach, but breaking
into a laugh, skimmed off over the snow, seeming to have no idea of the
power of firearms, and thinking themselves perfectly safe when beyond
arm's length.

To-night we did not succeed in getting the howitzer into camp. This was
the most laborious day we had yet passed through, the steep ascents and
deep snow exhausting both men and animals. Our single chronometer had
stopped during the day, and its error in time occasioned the loss of an
eclipse of a satellite this evening. It had not preserved the rate with
which we started from the Dalles, and this will account for the absence
of longitudes along this interval of our journey.

29th.--From this height we could see, at a considerable distance below,
yellow spots in the valley, which indicated that there was not much
snow. One of these places we expected to reach to-night; and some time
being required to bring up the gun, I went ahead with Mr. Fitzpatrick
and a few men, leaving the camp to follow, in charge of Mr. Preuss. We
followed a trail down a hollow where the Indians had descended, the
snow being so deep that we never came near the ground; but this only
made our descent the easier, and, when we reached a little affluent to
the river, at the bottom, we suddenly found ourselves in presence of
eight or ten Indians. They seemed to be watching our motions, and, like
the others, at first were indisposed to let us approach, ranging
themselves like birds on a fallen log, on the hill-side above our
heads, where, being out of our reach, they thought themselves safe. Our
friendly demeanor reconciled them, and, when we got near enough, they
immediately stretched out to us handfuls of pine-nuts, which seemed an
exercise of hospitality. We made them a few presents, and, telling us
that their village was a few miles below, they went on to let their
people know what we were. The principal stream still running through an
impracticable canon, we ascended a very steep hill, which proved
afterwards the last and fatal obstacle to our little howitzer, which
was finally abandoned at this place. We passed through a small meadow a
few miles below, crossing the river, which depth, swift current, and
rock, made it difficult to ford; and, after a few more miles of very
difficult trail, issued into a larger prairie bottom, at the farther
end of which we encamped, in a position rendered strong by rocks and
trees. The lower parts of the mountain were covered with the nut-pine.
Several Indians appeared on the hill-side, reconnoitring the camp, and
were induced to come in; others came in during the afternoon; and in
the evening we held a council. The Indians immediately made it clear
that the waters on which we were also belonged to the Great Basin, in
the edge of which we had been since the 17th of December; and it became
evident that we had still the great ridge on the left to cross before
we could reach the Pacific waters.

We explained to the Indians that we were endeavoring to find a passage
across the mountains into the country of the whites, whom we were going
to see; and told them that we wished them to bring us a guide, to whom
we would give presents of scarlet cloth, and other articles, which were
shown to them. They looked at the reward we offered, and conferred with
each other, but pointed to the snow on the mountain, and drew their
hands across their necks, and raised them above their heads, to show
the depth; and signified that it was impossible for us to get through.
They made signs that we must go to the southward, over a pass through a
lower range, which they pointed out: there, they said, at the end of
one day's travel, we would find people who lived near a pass in the
great mountain; and to that point they engaged to furnish us a guide.
They appeared to have a confused idea, from report, of whites who lived
on the other side of the mountain; and once, they told us, about two
years ago, a party of twelve men like ourselves had ascended their
river, and crossed to the other waters. They pointed out to us where
they had crossed; but then, they said, it was summer time; but now it
would be impossible. I believe that this was a party led by Mr. Chiles,
one of the only two men whom I know to have passed through the
California mountains from the interior of the Basin--Walker being the
other; and both were engaged upwards of twenty days, in the summer
time, in getting over. Chiles's destination was the bay of San
Francisco, to which he descended by the Stanislaus river; and Walker
subsequently informed me that, like myself, descending to the southward
on a more eastern line, day after day he was searching for the
Buenaventura, thinking that he had found it with every new stream,
until, like me, he abandoned all idea of its existence, and, turning
abruptly to the right, crossed the great chain. These were both western
men, animated with the spirit of exploratory enterprise which
characterizes that people.

The Indians brought in during the evening an abundant supply of
pine-nuts, which we traded from them. When roasted, their pleasant
flavor made them an agreeable addition to our now scanty store of
provisions, which were reduced to a very low ebb. Our principal stock
was in peas, which it is not necessary to say contain scarcely any
nutriment. We had still a little flour left, some coffee, and a
quantity of sugar, which I reserved as a defence against starvation.

The Indians informed us that at certain seasons they have fish in their
waters, which we supposed to be salmon-trout: for the remainder of the
year they live upon the pine-nuts, which form their great winter
subsistence--a portion being always at hand, shut up in the natural
storehouse of the cones. At present, they were presented to us as a
whole people living upon this simple vegetable.

The other division of the party did not come in to-night, but encamped
in the upper meadow, and arrived the next morning. They had not
succeeded in getting the howitzer beyond the place mentioned, and where
it had been left by Mr. Preuss, in obedience to my orders; and, in
anticipation of the snow-banks and snow-fields still ahead, foreseeing
the inevitable detention to which it would subject us, I reluctantly
determined to leave it there for the time. It was of the kind invented
by the French for the mountain part of their war in Algiers; and the
distance it had come with us proved how well it was adapted to its
purpose. We left it, to the great sorrow of the whole party, who were
grieved to part with a companion which had made the whole distance from
St. Louis, and commanded respect for us on some critical occasions, and
which might be needed for the same purpose again.

30th.--Our guide, who was a young man, joined us this morning; and,
leaving our encampment late in the day, we descended the river, which
immediately opened out into a broad valley, furnishing good traveling
ground. In a short distance we passed the village, a collection of
straw huts; and a few miles below, the guide pointed out the place
where the whites had been encamped, before they entered the mountain.
With our late start we made but ten miles, and encamped on the low
river-bottom, where there was no snow, but a great deal of ice; and we
cut piles of long grass to lay under our blankets, and fires were made
of large dry willows, groves of which wooded the stream. The river took
here a northeasterly direction, and through a spur from the mountains
on the left was the gap where we were to pass the next day.

31st.--We took our way over a gently rising ground, the dividing ridge
being tolerably low; and traveling easily along a broad trail, in
twelve or fourteen miles reached the upper part of the pass, when it
began to snow thickly, with very cold weather. The Indians had only the
usual scanty covering, and appeared to suffer greatly from the cold.
All left us, except our guide. Half hidden by the storm, the mountains
looked dreary; and, as night began to approach, the guide showed great
reluctance to go forward. I placed him between two rifles, for the way
began to be difficult. Traveling a little farther, we struck a ravine,
which the Indian said would conduct us to the river; and as the poor
fellow suffered greatly, shivering in the snow which fell upon his
naked skin, I would not detain him any longer; and he ran off to the
mountain, where he said was a hut near by. He had kept the blue and
scarlet cloth I had given him tightly rolled up, preferring rather to
endure the cold than to get them wet. In the course of the afternoon,
one of the men had his foot frostbitten; and about dark we had the
satisfaction to reach the bottoms of a stream timbered with large
trees, among which we found a sheltered camp, with an abundance of such
grass as the season afforded for the animals. We saw before us, in
descending from the pass, a great continuous range, along which
stretched the valley of the river; the lower parts steep, and dark with
pines, while above it was hidden in clouds of snow. This we felt
instantly satisfied was the central ridge of the Sierra Nevada, the
great California mountain, which only now intervened between us and the
waters of the bay. We had made a forced march of 26 miles, and three
mules had given out on the road. Up to this point, with the exception
of two stolen by Indians, we had lost none of the horses which had been
brought from the Columbia river, and a number of these were still
strong and in tolerably good order. We had now 67 animals in the band.

We had scarcely lighted our fires, when the camp was crowded with
nearly naked Indians; some of them were furnished with long nets in
addition to bows, and appeared to have been out on the sage hills to
hunt rabbits. These nets were perhaps 30 to 40 feet long, kept upright
in the ground by slight sticks at intervals, and were made from a kind
of wild hemp, very much resembling in manufacture those common among
the Indians of the Sacramento valley. They came among us without any
fear, and scattered themselves about the fires, mainly occupied in
gratifying their astonishment. I was struck by the singular appearance
of a row of about a dozen, who were sitting on their haunches perched
on a log near one of the fires, with their quick sharp eyes following
every motion.

We gathered together a few of the most intelligent of the Indians, and
held this evening an interesting council. I explained to them my
intentions. I told them that we had come from a very far country,
having been traveling now nearly a year, and that we were desirous
simply to go across the mountain into the country of the other whites.
There were two who appeared particularly intelligent--one, a somewhat
old man. He told me that, before the snows fell, it was six sleeps to
the place where the whites lived, but that now it was impossible to
cross the mountain on account of the deep snow; and showing us, as the
others had done, that it was over our heads, he urged us strongly to
follow the course of the river, which he said would conduct us to a
lake in which there were many large fish. There, he said, were many
people; there was no snow on the ground; and we might remain there
until the spring. From their descriptions, we were enabled to judge
that we had encamped on the upper water of the Salmon Trout river. It
is hardly necessary to say that our communication was only by signs, as
we understood nothing of their language; but they spoke,
notwithstanding, rapidly and vehemently, explaining what they
considered the folly of our intentions, and urging us to go down to the
lake. _Tah-ve_, a word signifying snow, we very soon learned to know,
from its frequent repetition. I told him that the men and the horses
were strong, that we would break a road through the snow; and spreading
before him our bales of scarlet cloth, and trinkets, showed him what we
would give for a guide. It was necessary to obtain one, if possible;
for I had determined here to attempt the passage of the mountain.
Pulling a bunch of grass from the ground, after a short discussion
among themselves, the old man made us comprehend, that if we could
break through the snow, at the end of three days we would come down
upon grass, which he showed us would be about six inches high, and
where, the ground was entirely free. So far, he said, he had been in
hunting for elk; but beyond that (and he closed his eyes) he had seen
nothing; but there was one among them who had been to the whites, and,
going out of the lodge, he returned with a young man of very
intelligent appearance. Here, said he, is a young man who has seen the
whites with his own eyes; and he swore, first by the sky, and then by
the ground, that what he said was true. With a large present of goods,
we prevailed upon this young man to be our guide, and he acquired among
us the name of Melo--a word signifying friend, which they used very
frequently. He was thinly clad, and nearly barefoot; his moccasins
being about worn out. We gave him skins to make a new pair, and to
enable him to perform his undertaking to us. The Indians remained in
the camp during the night, and we kept the guide and two others to
sleep in the lodge with us--Carson lying across the door, and having
made them comprehend the use of our fire arms.



FEBRUARY.


1st.--The snow, which had intermitted in the evening, commenced falling
again in the course of the night; and it snowed steadily all day. In
the morning I acquainted the men with my decision, and explained to
them that necessity required us to make a great effort to clear the
mountains. I reminded them of the beautiful valley of the Sacramento,
with which they were familiar from the descriptions of Carson, who had
been there some fifteen years ago, and who, in our late privations, had
delighted us in speaking of its rich pastures and abounding game, and
drew a vivid contrast between its summer climate, less than a hundred
miles distant, and the falling snow around us. I informed them (and
long experience had given them confidence in my observations and good
instruments) that almost directly west, and only about 70 miles
distant, was the great farming establishment of Captain Sutter--a
gentleman who had formerly lived in Missouri, and, emigrating to this
country, had become the possessor of a principality. I assured them
that, from the heights of the mountain before us, we should doubtless
see the valley of the Sacramento river, and with one effort place
ourselves again in the midst of plenty. The people received this
decision with the cheerful obedience which had always characterized
them, and the day was immediately devoted to the preparations necessary
to enable us to carry it into effect. Leggins, moccasins, clothing--all
were put into the best state to resist the cold. Our guide was not
neglected. Extremity of suffering might make him desert; we therefore
did the best we could for him. Leggins, moccasins, some articles of
clothing, and a large green blanket, in addition to the blue and
scarlet cloth, were lavished upon him, and to his great and evident
contentment. He arrayed himself in all his colors, and, clad in green,
blue, and scarlet, he made a gay-looking Indian; and, with his various
presents, was probably richer and better clothed than any of his tribe
had ever been before.

I have already said that our provisions were very low; we had neither
tallow nor grease of any kind remaining, and the want of salt became
one of our greatest privations. The poor dog which had been found in
the Bear River valley, and which had been a _compagnon de voyage_ ever
since, had now become fat, and the mess to which it belonged, requested
permission to kill it. Leave was granted. Spread out on the snow, the
meat looked very good; and it made a strengthening meal for the greater
part of the camp. Indians brought in two or three rabbits during the
day, which were purchased from them.

The river was 40 to 70 feet wide, and now entirely frozen over. It was
wooded with large cottonwood, willow, and _grain de boeuf_. By
observation, the latitude of this encampment was 38° 37' 18".

2d.--It had ceased snowing, and this morning the lower air was clear
and frosty; and six or seven thousand feet above, the peaks of the
Sierra now and then appeared among the rolling clouds, which were
rapidly dispersing before the sun. Our Indian shook his head as he
pointed to the icy pinnacles, shooting high up into the sky, and
seeming almost immediately above us. Crossing the river on the ice, and
leaving it immediately, we commenced the ascent of the mountain along
the valley of a tributary stream. The people were unusually silent, for
every man knew that our enterprise was hazardous; and the issue
doubtful.

The snow deepened rapidly, and it soon became necessary to break a
road. For this service, a party of ten was formed, mounted on the
strongest horses, each man in succession opening the road on foot, or
on horseback, until himself and his horse became fatigued, when he
stepped aside, and, the remaining number passing ahead, he took his
station in the rear. Leaving this stream, and pursuing a very direct
course, we passed over an intervening ridge to the river we had left.
On the way we passed two low huts entirely covered with snow, which
might very easily have escaped observation. A family was living in
each; and the only trail I saw in the neighborhood was from the
door-hole to a nut-pine tree near, which supplied them with food and
fuel. We found two similar huts on the creek where we next arrived;
and, traveling a little higher up, encamped on its banks in about four
feet depth of snow. Carson found near, an open hill-side, where the
wind and the sun had melted the snow, leaving exposed sufficient
bunch-grass for the animals to-night.

The nut-pines were now giving way to heavy timber, and there were some
immense pines on the bottom, around the roots of which the sun had
melted away the snow; and here we made our camp and built huge fires.
To-day we had traveled 16 miles, and our elevation above the sea was
6,760 feet.

3d.--Turning our faces directly towards the main chain, we ascended an
open hollow along a small tributary to the river, which, according to
the Indians, issues from a mountain to the south. The snow was so deep
in the hollow, that we were obliged to travel along the steep
hill-sides, and over spurs, where the wind and sun had in places
lessened the snow, and where the grass, which appeared to be in good
quality along the sides of the mountains, was exposed. We opened our
road in the same way as yesterday, but made only seven miles, and
encamped by some springs at the foot of a high and steep hill, by which
the hollow ascended to another basin in the mountain. The little stream
below was entirely buried in snow. The springs were shaded by the
boughs of a lofty cedar, which here made its first appearance; the
usual height was 120 to 130 feet, and one that was measured near by was
six feet in diameter.

There being no grass exposed here, the horses were sent back to that
which we had seen a few miles below. We occupied the remainder of the
day in beating down a road to the foot of the hill, a mile or two
distant; the snow being beaten down when moist, in the warm part of the
day, and then hard frozen at night, made a foundation that would bear
the weight of the animals next morning. During the day several Indians
joined us on snow-shoes. These were made of a circular hoop, about a
foot in diameter, the interior space being filled with an open network
of bark.

4th.--I went ahead early with two or three men, each with a led horse
to break the road. We were obliged to abandon the hollow entirely, and
work along the mountain-side, which was very steep, and the snow
covered with an icy crust. We cut a footing as we advanced, and
trampled a road through for the animals; but occasionally one plunged
outside the trail, and slided along the field to the bottom, a hundred
yards below. Late in the day we reached another bench in the hollow,
where, in summer, the stream passed over a small precipice. Here was a
short distance of dividing ground between the two ridges, and beyond an
open basin, some ten miles across, whose bottom presented a field of
snow. At the further or western side rose the middle crest of the
mountain, a dark-looking ridge of volcanic rock.

The summit line presented a range of naked peaks, apparently destitute
of snow and vegetation; but below, the face of the whole country was
covered with timber of extraordinary size.

Towards a pass which the guide indicated here, we attempted in the
afternoon to force a road; but after a laborious plunging through two
or three hundred yards, our best horses gave out, entirely refusing to
make any further effort, and, for the time, we were brought to a stand.
The guide informed us that we were entering the deep snow, and here
began the difficulties of the mountain; and to him, and almost to all,
our enterprise seemed hopeless. I returned a short distance back, to
the break in the hollow, where I met Mr. Fitzpatrick.

The camp had been occupied all the day in endeavoring to ascend the
hill, but only the best horses had succeeded; the animals, generally,
not having sufficient strength to bring themselves up without the
packs; and all the line of road between this and the springs was
strewed with camp-stores and equipage, and horses floundering in snow.
I therefore immediately encamped on the ground with my own mess, which
was in advance, and directed Mr. Fitzpatrick to encamp at the springs,
and send all the animals, in charge of Tabeau, with a strong guard,
back to the place where they had been pastured the night before. Here
was a small spot of level ground, protected on one side by the
mountain, and on the other sheltered by a little ridge of rock. It was
an open grove of pines, which assimilated in size to the grandeur of
the mountain, being frequently six feet in diameter.

To-night we had no shelter, but we made a large fire around the trunk
of one of the huge pines; and covering the snow with small boughs, on
which we spread our blankets, soon made ourselves comfortable. The
night was very bright and clear, though the thermometer was only at
10°. A strong wind, which sprang up at sundown, made it intensely cold;
and this was one of the bitterest nights during the journey.

Two Indians joined our party here; and one of them, an old man,
immediately began to harangue us, saying that ourselves and animals
would perish in the snow; and that if we would go back, he would show
us another and a better way across the mountain. He spoke in a very
loud voice, and there was a singular repetition of phrases and
arrangement of words, which rendered his speech striking and not
unmusical.

We had now begun to understand some words, and, with the aid of signs,
easily comprehended the old man's simple ideas. "Rock upon rock--rock
upon rock--snow upon snow," said he; "even if you get over the snow,
you will not be able to get down from the mountains." He made us the
sign of precipices, and showed us how the feet of the horses would
slip, and throw them off from the narrow trails that led along their
sides. Our Chinook, who comprehended even more readily than ourselves,
and believed our situation hopeless, covered his head with his blanket,
and began to weep and lament. "I wanted to see the whites," said he; "I
came away from my own people to see the whites, and I wouldn't care to
die among them, but here"--and he looked around into the cold night and
gloomy forest, and, drawing his blanket over his head, began again to
lament.

Seated around the tree, the fire illuminating the rocks and the tall
bolls of the pines round about, and the old Indian haranguing, we
presented a group of very serious faces.

5th.--The night had been too cold to sleep, and we were up very early.
Our guide was standing by the fire with all his finery on; and seeing
him shiver in the cold, I threw on his shoulders one of my blankets. We
missed him a few minutes afterwards, and never saw him again. He had
deserted. His bad faith and treachery were in perfect keeping with the
estimate of Indian character, which a long intercourse with this people
had gradually forced upon my mind.

While a portion of the camp were occupied in bringing up the baggage to
this point, the remainder were busied in making sledges and snow-shoes.
I had determined to explore the mountain ahead, and the sledges were to
be used in transporting the baggage.

The mountains here consisted wholly of a white micaceous granite. The
day was perfectly clear, and, while the sun was in the sky, warm and
pleasant.

By observation our latitude was 38° 42' 26"; and elevation by the
boiling point, 7,400 feet.

6th.--Accompanied by Mr. Fitzpatrick, I set out to-day with a
reconnoitring party on snow-shoes. We marched all in single file,
trampling the snow as heavily as we could. Crossing the open basin, in
a march of about ten miles we reached the top of one of the peaks, to
the left of the pass indicated by our guide. Far below us, dimmed by
the distance, was a large snowless valley, bounded on the western side,
at the distance of about a hundred miles, by a low range of mountains,
which Carson recognised with delight as the mountains bordering the
coast. "There," said he, "is the little mountain--it is fifteen years
since I saw it; but I am just as sure as if I had seen it yesterday."
Between us, then, and this low coast range was the valley of the
Sacramento; and no one who had not accompanied us through the incidents
of our life for the last few months could realize the delight with
which at last we looked down upon it. At the distance of apparently 30
miles beyond us were distinguished spots of prairie; and a dark line
which could be traced with the glass, was imagined to be the course of
the river; but we were evidently at a great height above the valley,
and between us and the plains extended miles of snowy fields and broken
ridges of pine-covered mountains.

It was late in the day when we turned towards the camp; and it grew
rapidly cold as it drew towards night. One of the men became fatigued,
and his feet began to freeze, and building a fire in the trunk of a dry
old cedar, Mr. Fitzpatrick remained with him until his clothes could be
dried, and he was in a condition to come on. After a day's march of 20
miles, we straggled into the camp one after another, at nightfall; the
greater number excessively fatigued, only two of the party having ever
traveled on snow-shoes before.

All our energies are now directed to getting our animals across the
snow; and it was supposed that after all the baggage had been drawn
with the sleighs over the trail we had made, it would be sufficiently
hard to bear our animals. At several places between this point and the
ridge, we had discovered some grassy spots, where the wind and sun had
dispersed the snow from the sides of the hills, and these were to form
resting-places to support the animals for a night in their passage
across. On our way across we had set on fire several broken stumps, and
dried trees, to melt holes in the snow for the camps. Its general depth
was five feet; but we passed over places where it was 20 feet deep, as
shown by the trees. With one party drawing sleighs loaded with baggage,
I advanced to-day about four miles along the trail, and encamped at the
first grassy spot, where we expected to bring our horses. Mr.
Fitzpatrick, with another party, remained behind, to form an
intermediate station between us and the animals.

8th.--The night has been extremely cold; but perfectly still, and
beautifully clear. Before the sun appeared this morning, the
thermometer was 3° below zero; 1° higher, when his rays struck the
lofty peaks; and 0° when they reached our camp.

Scenery and weather, combined, must render these mountains beautiful in
summer; the purity and deep-blue color of the sky are singularly
beautiful; the days are sunny and bright, and even warm in the noon
hours; and if we could be free from the many anxieties that oppress us,
even now we would be delighted here; but our provisions are getting
fearfully scant. Sleighs arrived with baggage about ten o'clock; and
leaving a portion of it here, we continued on for a mile and a half,
and encamped at the foot of a long hill on this side of the open bottom.

Bernier and Godey, who yesterday morning had been sent to ascend a
higher peak, got in, hungry and fatigued. They confirmed what we had
already seen. Two other sleighs arrived in the afternoon; and the men
being fatigued, I gave them all tea and sugar. Snow clouds began to
rise in the S.S.W.; and, apprehensive of a storm, which would destroy
our road, I sent the people back to Mr. Fitzpatrick, with directions to
send for the animals in the morning. With me remained Mr. Preuss, Mr.
Talbot, and Carson, with Jacob.

Elevation of the camp, by the boiling point, is 7,920 feet.

9th.--During the night the weather changed, the wind rising to a gale,
and commencing to snow before daylight; before morning the trail was
covered. We remained quiet in camp all day, in the course of which the
weather improved. Four sleighs arrived towards evening, with the
bedding of the men. We suffer much from the want of salt; and all the
men are becoming weak from insufficient food.

10th.--Taplin was sent back with a few men to assist Mr. Fitzpatrick;
and continuing on with three sleighs carrying a part of the baggage, we
had the satisfaction to encamp within two and a half miles of the head
of the hollow, and at the foot of the last mountain ridge. Here two
large trees had been set on fire, and in the holes, where the snow had
been melted away, we found a comfortable camp.

The wind kept the air filled with snow during the day; the sky was very
dark in the southwest, though elsewhere very clear. The forest here has
a noble appearance; and tall cedar is abundant; its greatest height
being 130 feet, and circumference 20, three or four feet above the
ground; and here I see for the first time the white pine, of which
there are some magnificent trees. Hemlock spruce is among the timber,
occasionally as large as eight feet in diameter, four feet above the
ground; but, in ascending, it tapers rapidly to less than one foot at
the height of eighty feet. I have not seen any higher than 130 feet,
and the slight upper part is frequently broken off by the wind. The
white spruce is frequent; and the red pine (_pinus colorado_ of the
Mexicans) which constitutes the beautiful forest along the banks of the
Sierra Nevada to the northward, is here the principal tree, not
attaining a greater height than 140 feet, though with sometimes a
diameter of 10. Most of these trees appeared to differ slightly from
those of the same kind on the other side of the continent.

The elevation of the camp by the boiling point, is 8,050 feet. We are
now 1,000 feet above the level of the South Pass in the Rocky
mountains; and still we are not done ascending. The top of a flat ridge
near was bare of snow, and very well sprinkled with bunch-grass,
sufficient to pasture the animals two or three days; and this was to be
their main point of support. This ridge is composed of a compact trap,
or basalt of a columnar structure; over the surface are scattered large
boulders of porous trap. The hills are in many places entirely covered
with small fragments of volcanic rock.

Putting on our snow-shoes, we spent the afternoon in exploring a road
ahead. The glare of the snow, combined with great fatigue, had rendered
many of the people nearly blind; but we were fortunate in having some
black silk handkerchiefs, which, worn as veils, very much relieved the
eye.

11th.--High wind continued, and our trail this morning was nearly
invisible--here and there indicated by a little ridge of snow. Our
situation became tiresome and dreary, requiring a strong exercise of
patience and resolution.

In the evening I received a message from Mr. Fitzpatrick, acquainting
me with the utter failure of his attempt to get our mules and horses
over the snow--the half-hidden trail had proved entirely too slight to
support them, and they had broken through, and were plunging about or
lying half buried in snow. He was occupied in endeavoring to get them
back to his camp; and in the mean time sent to me for further
instructions. I wrote to him to send the animals immediately back to
their old pastures; and, after having made mauls and shovels, turn in
all the strength of his party to open and beat a road through the snow,
strengthening it with branches and boughs of the pines.

12th.--We made mauls, and worked hard at our end of the road all day.
The wind was high, but the sun bright, and the snow thawing. We worked
down the face of the hill, to meet the people at the other end. Towards
sundown it began to grow cold, and we shouldered our mauls and trudged
back to camp.

13th.--We continued to labor on the road; and in the course of the day
had the satisfaction to see the people working down the face of the
opposite hill, about three miles distant. During the morning we had the
pleasure of a visit from Mr. Fitzpatrick, with the information that all
was going on well. A party of Indians had passed on snow-shoes, who
said they were going to the western side of the mountain after fish.
This was an indication that the salmon were coming up the streams; and
we could hardly restrain our impatience as we thought of them, and
worked with increased vigor.

The meat train did not arrive this evening, and I gave Godey leave to
kill our little dog, (Tlamath,) which he prepared in Indian fashion;
scorching off the hair, and washing the skin with soap and snow, and
then cutting it up into pieces, which were laid on the snow. Shortly
afterwards, the sleigh arrived with a supply of horse-meat; and we had
to-night an extraordinary dinner--pea-soup, mule, and dog.

14th.--The dividing ridge of the Sierra is in sight from this
encampment. Accompanied by Mr. Preuss, I ascended to-day the highest
peak to the right; from which we had a beautiful view of a mountain
lake at our feet, about fifteen miles in length, and so entirely
surrounded by mountains that we could not discover an outlet. We had
taken with us a glass; but though we enjoyed an extended view, the
valley was half hidden in mist, as when we had seen it before. Snow
could be distinguished on the higher parts of the coast mountains;
eastward, as far as the eye could extend, it ranged over a terrible
mass of broken snowy mountains, fading off blue in the distance. The
rock composing the summit consists of a very coarse, dark, volcanic
conglomerate; the lower parts appeared to be of a slaty structure. The
highest trees were a few scattering cedars and aspens. From the
immediate foot of the peak, we were two hours reaching the summit, and
one hour and a quarter in descending. The day had been very bright,
still, and clear, and spring seems to be advancing rapidly. While the
sun is in the sky, the snow melts rapidly, and gushing springs cover
the face of the mountain in all the exposed places; but their surface
freezes instantly with the disappearance of the sun.

I obtained to-night some observations; and the result from these, and
others made during our stay, gives for the latitude 38° 41' 57",
longitude 120° 25' 57", and rate of the chronometer 25.82".

16th.--We had succeeded in getting our animals safely to the first
grassy hill; and this morning I started with Jacob on a reconnoitring
expedition beyond the mountain. We traveled along the crests of narrow
ridges, extending down from the mountain in the direction of the
valley, from which the snow was fast melting away. On the open spots
was tolerably good grass; and I judged we should succeed in getting the
camp down by way of these. Towards sundown we discovered some icy spots
in a deep hollow; and, descending the mountain, we encamped on the
head-water of a little creek, where at last the water found its way to
the Pacific.

The night was clear and very long. We heard the cries of some wild
animals, which had been attracted by our fire, and a flock of geese
passed over during the night. Even these strange sounds had something
pleasant to our senses in this region of silence and desolation.

We started again early in the morning. The creek acquired a regular
breadth of about 20 feet, and we soon began to hear the rushing of the
water below the icy surface, over which we traveled to avoid the snow;
a few miles below we broke through, where the water was several feet
deep, and halted to make a fire and dry our clothes. We continued a few
miles farther, walking being very laborious without snow-shoes.

I was now perfectly satisfied that we had struck the stream on which
Mr. Sutler lived; and, turning about, made a hard push, and reached the
camp at dark. Here we had the pleasure to find all the remaining
animals, 57 in number, safely arrived at the grassy hill near the camp;
and here, also, we were agreeably surprised with the sight of an
abundance of salt. Some of the horse-guard had gone to a neighboring
hut for pine nuts, and discovered unexpectedly a large cake of very
white fine-grained salt, which the Indians told them they had brought
from the other side of the mountain; they used it to eat with their
pine nuts, and readily sold it for goods.

On the 19th, the people were occupied in making a road and bringing up
the baggage; and, on the afternoon of the next day, _February_ 20,
1844, we encamped, with the animals and all the _materiel_ of the camp,
on the summit of the PASS in the dividing ridge, 1,000 miles by our
traveled road from the Dalles to the Columbia.

The people, who had not yet been to this point, climbed the neighboring
peak to enjoy a look at the valley.

The temperature of boiling water gave for the elevation of the
encampment, 9,338 feet above the sea.

This was 2,000 feet higher than the South Pass in the Rocky mountains,
and several peaks in view rose several thousand feet still higher.
Thus, at the extremity of the continent, and near the coast, the
phenomenon was seen of a range of mountains still higher than the great
Rocky mountains themselves. This extraordinary fact accounts for the
Great Basin, and shows that there must be a system of small lakes and
rivers here scattered over a flat country, and which the extended and
lofty range of the Sierra Nevada prevents from escaping to the Pacific
ocean. Latitude 38° 44'; longitude 120° 28'.

Thus the Pass in the Sierra Nevada, which so well deserves its name of
Snowy mountain, is eleven degrees west and about four degrees south of
the South Pass.

21st.--We now considered ourselves victorious over the mountain; having
only the descent before us, and the valley under our eyes, we felt
strong hope that we should force our way down. But this was a case in
which the descent was _not_ facile. Still deep fields of snow lay
between them, and there was a large intervening space of rough-looking
mountains, through which we had yet to wind our way. Carson roused me
this morning with an early fire, and we were all up long before day, in
order to pass the snow-fields before the sun should render the crust
soft. We enjoyed this morning a scene at sunrise, which even here was
unusually glorious and beautiful. Immediately above the eastern
mountains was repeated a cloud-formed mass of purple ranges, bordered
with bright yellow gold; the peaks shot up into a narrow line of
crimson cloud, above which the air was filled with a greenish orange;
and over all was the singular beauty of the blue sky. Passing along a
ridge which commanded the lake on our right, of which we began to
discover an outlet through a chasm on the west, we passed over
alternating open ground and hard-crusted snow-fields which supported
the animals, and encamped on the ridge, after a journey of six miles.
The grass was better than we had yet seen, and we were encamped in a
clump of trees 20 or 30 feet high, resembling white pine. With the
exception of these small clumps, the ridges were bare; and, where the
snow found the support of the trees, the wind had blown it up into
banks 10 or 15 feet high. It required much care to hunt out a
practicable way, as the most open places frequently led to impassable
banks.

We had hard and doubtful labor yet before us, as the snow appeared to
be heavier where the timber began further down, with few open spots.
Ascending a height, we traced out the best line we could discover for
the next day's march, and had at least the consolation to see that the
mountain descended rapidly. The day had been one of April--gusty, with
a few occasional flakes of snow--which, in the afternoon, enveloped the
upper mountain in clouds. We watched them anxiously, as now we dreaded
a snow-storm. Shortly afterwards we heard the roll of thunder, and,
looking towards the valley, found it enveloped in a thunder-storm. For
us, as connected with the idea of summer, it had a singular charm, and
we watched its progress with excited feelings until nearly sunset, when
the sky cleared off brightly, and we saw a shining line of water
directing its course towards another, a broader and larger sheet. We
knew that these could be no other than the Sacramento and the Bay of
San Francisco; but, after our long wandering in rugged mountains, where
so frequently we had met with disappointments, and where the crossing
of every ridge displayed some unknown lake or river, we were yet almost
afraid to believe that we were at last to escape into the genial
country of which we had heard so many glowing descriptions, and dreaded
to find some vast interior lake, whose bitter waters would bring us
disappointment. On the southern shore of what appeared to be the bay
could be traced the gleaming line where entered another large stream;
and again the Buenaventura rose up in our minds.

Carson had entered the valley along the southern side of the bay, and
remembered perfectly to have crossed the mouth of a very large stream,
which they had been obliged to raft; but the country then was so
entirely covered with water from snow and rain, that he had been able
to form no correct impressions of water-courses.

We had the satisfaction to know that at least there were people below.
Fires were lit up in the valley just at night, appearing to be in
answer to ours; and these signs of life renewed, in some measure, the
gayety of the camp. They appeared so near, that we judged them to be
among the timber of some of the neighboring ridges; but, having them
constantly in view day after day, and night after night, we afterwards
found them to be fires that had been kindled by the Indians among the
_tulares_, on the shore of the bay, 80 miles distant.

Among the very few plants that appeared here, was the common blue flax.
To-night a mule was killed for food.

22d.--Our breakfast was over long before day. We took advantage of the
coolness of the early morning to get over the snow, which to-day
occurred in very deep banks among the timber; but we searched out the
coldest places, and the animals passed successfully with their loads
over the hard crust. Now and then the delay of making a road occasioned
much labor and loss of time. In the after part of the day, we saw
before us a handsome grassy ridge point; and, making a desperate push
over a snow-field 10 to 15 feet deep, we happily succeeded in getting
the camp across, and encamped on the ridge, after a march of three
miles. We had again the prospect of a thunder-storm below, and to-night
we killed another mule--now our only resource from starvation.

We satisfied ourselves during the day that the lake had an outlet
between two ranges on the right; and with this, the creek on which I
had encamped probably effected a junction below. Between these, we were
descending.

We continued to enjoy the same delightful weather; the sky of the same
beautiful blue, and such a sunset and sunrise as on our Atlantic coast
we could scarcely imagine. And here among the mountains, 9,000 feet
above the sea, we have the deep-blue sky and sunny climate of Smyrna
and Palermo, which a little map before me shows are in the same
latitude.

The elevation above the sea, by the boiling point, is 8,565 feet.

23d.--This was our most difficult day; we were forced off the ridges by
the quantity of snow among the timber, and obliged to take to the
mountain sides, where occasionally rocks and a southern exposure
afforded us a chance to scramble along. But these were steep, and
slippery with snow and ice; and the tough evergreens of the mountain
impeded our way, tore our skins, and exhausted our patience. Some of us
had the misfortune to wear moccasins with _parflèche_ soles, so
slippery that we could not keep our feet, and generally crawled across
the snow-beds. Axes and mauls were necessary to-day, to make a road
through the snow. Going ahead with Carson to reconnoitre the road, we
reached in the afternoon the river which made the outlet of the lake.
Carson sprang over, clear across a place where the stream was
compressed among rocks, but the _parflèche_ sole of my moccasin glanced
from the icy rock, and precipitated me into the river. It was some few
seconds before I could recover myself in the current, and Carson,
thinking me hurt, jumped in after me, and we both had an icy bath. We
tried to search awhile for my gun, which had been lost in the fall, but
the cold drove us out; and making a large fire on the bank, after we
had partially dried ourselves we went back to meet the camp. We
afterwards found that the gun had been slung under the ice which lined
the banks of the creek.

Using our old plan of breaking roads with alternate horses, we reached
the creek in the evening, and encamped on a dry open place in the
ravine.

Another branch, which we had followed, here comes in on the left; and
from this point the mountain wall, on which we had traveled to-day,
faces to the south along the right bank of the river, where the sun
appears to have melted the snow; but the opposite ridge is entirely
covered. Here, among the pines, the hill-side produces but little
grass--barely sufficient to keep life in the animals. We had the
pleasure to be rained upon this afternoon; and grass was now our
greatest solicitude. Many of the men looked badly; and some this
evening were giving out.

24th.--We rose at three in the morning for an astronomical observation,
and obtained for the place a lat. of 38° 46' 58"; long. 120° 34' 20".
The sky was clear and pure, with a sharp wind from the northeast, and
the thermometer 2° below the freezing point.

We continued down the south face of the mountain; our road leading over
dry ground, we were able to avoid the snow almost entirely. In the
course of the morning, we struck a footpath, which we were generally
able to keep; and the ground was soft to our animals' feet, being
sandy, or covered with mould. Green grass began to make its appearance,
and occasionally we passed a hill scatteringly covered with it. The
character of the forest continued the same; and, among the trees, the
pine with sharp leaves and very large cones was abundant, some of them
being noble trees. We measured one that had 10 feet diameter, though
the height was not more than 130 feet. All along, the river was a
roaring torrent, its fall very great; and, descending with a rapidity
to which we had long been strangers, to our great pleasure oak-trees
appeared on the ridge, and soon became very frequent; on these I
remarked great quantities of mistletoe. Rushes began to make their
appearance; and at a small creek where they were abundant, one of the
messes was left with the weakest horses, while we continued on.

The opposite mountain-side was very steep and continuous--unbroken by
ravines, and covered with pines and snow; while on the side we were
traveling, innumerable rivulets poured down from the ridge. Continuing
on, we halted a moment at one of these rivulets, to admire some
beautiful evergreen-trees, resembling live-oak, which shaded the little
stream. They were forty to fifty feet high, and two in diameter, with a
uniform tufted top; and the summer green of their beautiful foliage,
with the singing birds, and the sweet summer wind which was whirling
about the dry oak leaves, nearly intoxicated us with delight; and we
hurried on, filled with excitement, to escape entirely from the horrid
region of inhospitable snow, to the perpetual spring of the Sacramento.

When we had traveled about ten miles, the valley opened a little to an
oak and pine bottom, through which ran rivulets closely bordered with
rushes, on which our half-starved horses fell with avidity; and here we
made our encampment. Here the roaring torrent has already become a
river, and we had descended to an elevation of 3,864 feet.

Along our road to-day the rock was a white granite, which appears to
constitute the upper part of the mountains on both the eastern and
western slopes; while between, the central is a volcanic rock.

Another horse was killed to-night, for food.

25th.--Believing that the difficulties of the road were passed, and
leaving Mr. Fitzpatrick to follow slowly, as the condition of the
animals required, I started ahead this morning with a party of eight,
consisting of myself, Mr. Preuss and Mr. Talbot, Carson, Derosier,
Towns, Proue, and Jacob. We took with us some of the best animals, and
my intention was to proceed as rapidly as possible to the house of Mr.
Sutter, and return to meet the party with a supply of provisions and
fresh animals.

Continuing down the river, which pursued a very direct westerly course
through a narrow valley, with only a very slight and narrow
bottom-land, we made twelve miles, and encamped at some old Indian
huts, apparently a fishing-place on the river. The bottom was covered
with trees of deciduous foliage, and overgrown with vines and rushes.
On a bench of the hill near by, was a hill of fresh green grass, six
inches long in some of the tufts which I had the curiosity to measure.
The animals were driven here; and I spent part of the afternoon sitting
on a large rock among them, enjoying the pauseless rapidity with which
they luxuriated on the unaccustomed food.

The forest was imposing to-day in the magnificence of the trees; some
of the pines, bearing large cones, were 10 feet in diameter. Cedars
also abounded, and we measured one 281/2 feet in circumference, four
feet from the ground. This noble tree seemed here to be in its proper
soil and climate. We found it on both sides of the Sierra, but most
abundant on the west.

26th.--We continued to follow the stream, the mountains on either hand
increasing in height as we descended, and shutting up the river
narrowly in precipices, along which we had great difficulty to get our
horses.

It rained heavily during the afternoon, and we were forced off the
river to the heights above; whence we descended, at night-fall, the
point of a spur between the river and a fork of nearly equal size,
coming in from the right. Here we saw, on the lower hills, the first
flowers in bloom, which occurred suddenly, and in considerable
quantity--one of them a species of _gilia_.

The current in both streams (rather torrents than rivers) was broken by
large boulders. It was late, and the animals fatigued; and not
succeeding to find a ford immediately, we encamped, although the
hill-side afforded but a few stray bunches of grass, and the horses,
standing about in the rain, looked very miserable.

27th.--We succeeded in fording the stream, and made a trail by which we
crossed the point of the opposite hill, which, on the southern
exposure, was prettily covered with green grass, and we halted a mile
from our last encampment. The river was only about 60 feet wide, but
rapid, and occasionally deep, foaming among boulders, and the water
beautifully clear. We encamped on the hill-slope, as there was no
bottom level, and the opposite ridge is continuous, affording no
streams.

We had with us a large kettle; and a mule being killed here, his head
was boiled in it for several hours, and made a passable soup for
famished people.

Below, precipices on the river forced us to the heights, which we
ascended by a steep spur 2,000 feet high. My favorite horse, Proveau,
had become very weak, and was scarcely able to bring himself to the
top. Traveling here was good, except in crossing the ravines, which
were narrow, steep, and frequent. We caught a glimpse of a deer, the
first animal we had seen; but did not succeed in approaching him.
Proveau could not keep up, and I left Jacob to bring him on, being
obliged to press forward with the party, as there was no grass in the
forest. We grew very anxious as the day advanced and no grass appeared,
for the lives of our animals depended on finding it to-night. They were
in just such a condition that grass and repose for the night enabled
them to get on the next day. Every hour we had been expecting to see
open out before us the valley, which, from the mountain above, seemed
almost at our feet. A new and singular shrub, which had made its
appearance since crossing the mountain, was very frequent to-day. It
branched out near the ground, forming a clump eight to ten feet high,
with pale-green leaves, of an oval form; and the body and branches had
a naked appearance, as if stripped of the bark, which is very smooth
and thin, of a chocolate color, contrasting well with the pale green of
the leaves. The day was nearly gone; we had made a hard day's march,
and found no grass. Towns became light-headed, wandering off into the
woods without knowing where he was going, and Jacob brought him back.

Near night-fall we descended into the steep ravine of a handsome creek
30 feet wide, and I was engaged in getting the horses up the opposite
hill, when I heard a shout from Carson, who had gone ahead a few
hundred yards--"Life yet," said he, as he came up, "life yet; I have
found a hill-side sprinkled with grass enough for the night." We drove
along our horses, and encamped at the place about dark, and there was
just room enough to make a place for shelter on the edge of the stream.
Three horses were lost to-day--Proveau; a fine young horse from the
Columbia, belonging to Charles Towns; and another Indian horse, which
carried our cooking utensils. The two former gave out, and the latter
strayed off into the woods as we reached the camp.

29th.--We lay shut up in the narrow ravine, and gave the animals a
necessary day; and men were sent back after the others. Derosier
volunteered to bring up Proveau, to whom he knew I was greatly
attached, as he had been my favorite horse on both expeditions. Carson
and I climbed one of the nearest mountains; the forest land still
extended ahead, and the valley appeared as far as ever. The pack-horse
was found near the camp; but Derosier did not get in.



MARCH.


1st.--Derosier did not get in during the night, and leaving him to
follow, as no grass remained here, we continued on over the uplands,
crossing many small streams, and camped again on the river, having made
six miles. Here we found the hillside covered (although lightly) with
fresh green grass; and from this time forward we found it always
improving and abundant.

We made a pleasant camp on the river hill, where were some beautiful
specimens of the chocolate-colored shrub, which were a foot in diameter
near the ground, and fifteen to twenty feet high. The opposite ridge
runs continuously along, unbroken by streams. We are rapidly descending
into the spring, and we are leaving our snowy region far behind; every
thing is getting green; butterflies are swarming; numerous bugs are
creeping out, wakened from their winter's sleep; and the forest flowers
are coming into bloom. Among those which appeared most numerously
to-day was _dodecatheon dentatum_.

We began to be uneasy at Derosier's absence, fearing he might have been
bewildered in the woods. Charles Towns, who had not yet recovered his
mind, went to swim in the river, as if it were summer, and the stream
placid, when it was a cold mountain torrent foaming among the rocks. We
were happy to see Derosier appear in the evening. He came in, and,
sitting down by the fire, began to tell us where he had been. He
imagined he had been gone several days, and thought we were still at
the camp where he had left us; and we were pained to see that his mind
was deranged. It appeared that he had been lost in the mountain, and
hunger and fatigue, joined to weakness of body and fear of perishing in
the mountains, had crazed him. The times were severe when stout men
lost their minds from extremity of suffering--when horses died--and
when mules and horses, ready to die of starvation, were killed for
food. Yet there was no murmuring or hesitation.

A short distance below our encampment the river mountains terminated in
precipices, and, after a fatiguing march of only a few miles, we
encamped on a bench where there were springs, and an abundance of the
freshest grass. In the mean time, Mr. Preuss continued on down the
river, and, unaware that we had encamped so early in the day, was lost.
When night arrived, and he did not come in, we began to understand what
had happened to him; but it was too late to make any search.

3d.--We followed Mr. Preuss' trail for a considerable distance along
the river, until we reached a place where he had descended to the
stream below and encamped. Here we shouted and fired guns, but received
no answer; and we concluded that he had pushed on down the stream. I
determined to keep out from the river, along which it was nearly
impracticable to travel with animals, until it should form a valley. At
every step the country improved in beauty; the pines were rapidly
disappearing, and oaks became the principal trees of the forest. Among
these, the prevailing tree was the evergreen oak, (which, by way of
distinction, we call the _live-oak_;) and with these occurred
frequently a new species of oak bearing a long slender acorn, from an
inch to an inch and a half in length, which we now began to see formed
the principal vegetable food of the inhabitants of this region. In a
short distance we crossed a little rivulet, where were two old huts,
and near by were heaps of acorn hulls. The ground round about was very
rich, covered with an exuberant sward of grass; and we sat down for a
while in the shade of the oaks, to let the animals feed. We repeated
our shouts for Mr. Preuss; and this time were gratified with an answer.
The voice grew rapidly nearer, ascending from the river; but when we
expected to see him emerge, it ceased entirely. We had called up some
straggling Indian--the first we had met, although for two days back we
had seen tracks--who, mistaking us for his fellows, had been only
undeceived on getting close up. It would have been pleasant to witness
his astonishment; he would not have been more frightened had some of
the old mountain spirits they are so much afraid of suddenly appeared
in his path. Ignorant of the character of these people, we had now an
additional cause of uneasiness in regard to Mr. Preuss; he had no arms
with him, and we began to think his chance doubtful. We followed on a
trail, still keeping out from the river, and descended to a very large
creek, dashing with great velocity over a pre-eminently rocky bed, and
among large boulders. The bed had sudden breaks, formed by deep holes
and ledges of rock running across. Even here, it deserves the name of
_Rock_ creek, which we gave to it. We succeeded in fording it, and
toiled about three thousand feet up the opposite hill. The mountains
now were getting sensibly lower; but still there is no valley on the
river, which presents steep and rocky banks; but here, several miles
from the river, the country is smooth and grassy; the forest has no
undergrowth; and in the open valleys of rivulets, or around
spring-heads, the low groves of live-oak give the appearance of
orchards in an old cultivated country. Occasionally we met deer, but
had not the necessary time for hunting. At one of these
orchard-grounds, we encamped about noon to make an effort for Mr.
Preuss. One man took his way along a spur leading into the river, in
hope to cross his trail; and another took our own back. Both were
volunteers; and to the successful man was promised a pair of
pistols--not as a reward, but as a token of gratitude for a service
which would free us all from much anxiety.

We had among our few animals a horse which was so much reduced, that,
with traveling, even the good grass could nor save him; and, having
nothing to eat, he was killed this afternoon. He was a good animal, and
had made the journey round from Fort Hall.

_Dodecatheon dentatum_ continued the characteristic plant in flower;
and the naked-looking shrub already mentioned continued characteristic,
beginning to put forth a small white blossom. At evening the men
returned, having seen or heard nothing of Mr. Preuss; and I determined
to make a hard push down the river the next morning and get ahead of
him.

4th.--We continued rapidly along on a broad plainly-beaten trail, the
mere traveling and breathing the delightful air being a positive
enjoyment. Our road led along a ridge inclining to the river, and the
air and the open grounds were fragrant with flowering shrubs; and in
the course of the morning we issued on an open spur, by which we
descended directly to the stream. Here the river issues suddenly from
the mountains, which hitherto had hemmed it closely in; these now
become softer, and change sensibly their character; and at this point
commences the most beautiful valley in which we had ever traveled. We
hurried to the river, on which we noticed a small sand beach, to which
Mr. Preuss would naturally have gone. We found no trace of him, but,
instead, were recent tracks of bare-footed Indians, and little piles of
muscle-shells, and old fires where they had roasted the fish. We
traveled on over the river grounds, which were undulating, and covered
with grass to the river brink. We halted to noon a few miles beyond,
always under the shade of the evergreen oaks, which formed open groves
on the bottoms.

Continuing our road in the afternoon, we ascended to the uplands, where
the river passes round a point of great beauty, and goes through very
remarkable dalles, in character resembling those of the Columbia.
Beyond, we again descended to the bottoms, where we found an Indian
village, consisting of two or three huts; we had come upon them
suddenly, and the people had evidently just run off. The huts were low
and slight, made like beehives in a picture, five or six feet high, and
near each was a crate, formed of interlaced branches and grass, in size
and shape like a very large hogshead. Each of these contained from six
to nine bushels. These were filled with the long acorns already
mentioned, and in the huts were several neatly-made baskets, containing
quantities of the acorns roasted. They were sweet and agreeably
flavored, and we supplied ourselves with about half a bushel, leaving
one of our shirts, a handkerchief, and some smaller articles, in
exchange. The river again entered for a space among the hills, and we
followed a trail leading across a bend through a handsome hollow
behind. Here, while engaged in trying to circumvent a deer, we
discovered some Indians on a hill several hundred yards ahead, and gave
them a shout, to which they responded by loud and rapid talking and
vehement gesticulation, but made no stop, hurrying up the mountain as
fast as their legs could carry them. We passed on, and again encamped
in a grassy grove.

The absence of Mr. Preuss gave me great concern; and, for a large
reward, Derosier volunteered to go back on the trail. I directed him to
search along the river, traveling upward for the space of a day and a
half, at which time I expected he would meet Mr. Fitzpatrick, whom I
requested to aid in the search; at all events, he was to go no farther,
but return to this camp, where a _cache_ of provisions was made for him.

Continuing the next day down the river, we discovered three squaws in a
little bottom, and surrounded them before they could make their escape.
They had large conical baskets, which they were engaged in filling with
a small leafy plant (_erodium cicutarium_) just now beginning to bloom,
and covering the ground like a sward of grass. These did not make any
lamentations, but appeared very much impressed with our appearance,
speaking to us only in a whisper, and offering us smaller baskets of
the plant, which they signified to us was good to eat, making signs
also that it was to be cooked by the fire. We drew out a little cold
horse-meat, and the squaws made signs to us that the men had gone out
after deer, and that we could have some by waiting till they came in.
We observed that the horses ate with great avidity the herb which they
had been gathering; and here also, for the first time, we saw Indians
eat the common grass--one of the squaws pulling several tufts, and
eating it with apparent relish. Seeing our surprise, she pointed to the
horses; but we could not well understand what she meant, except,
perhaps, that what was good for the one was good for the other.

We encamped in the evening on the shore of the river, at a place where
the associated beauties of scenery made so strong an impression on us
that we gave it the name of the Beautiful Camp. The undulating river
shore was shaded with the live-oaks, which formed a continuous grove
over the country, and the same grassy sward extended to the edge of the
water, and we made our fires near some large granite masses which were
lying among the trees. We had seen several of the acorn _caches_ during
the day, and here there were two which were very large, containing
each, probably, ten bushels. Towards evening we heard a weak shout
among the hills behind, and had the pleasure to see Mr. Preuss
descending towards the camp. Like ourselves, he had traveled to-day 25
miles, but had seen nothing of Derosier. Knowing, on the day he was
lost, that I was determined to keep the river as much as possible, he
had not thought it necessary to follow the trail very closely, but
walked on, right and left, certain to find it somewhere along the
river, searching places to obtain good views of the country. Towards
sunset he climbed down towards the river to look for the camp; but,
finding no trail, concluded that we were behind, and walked back till
night came on, when, being very much fatigued, he collected drift-wood
and made a large fire among the rocks. The next day it became more
serious and he encamped again alone, thinking that we must have taken
some other course. To go back would have been madness in his weak and
starved condition, and onward towards the valley was his only hope,
always in expectation of reaching it soon. His principal means of
subsistence were a few roots, which the hunters call sweet onions,
having very little taste, but a good deal of nutriment, growing
generally in rocky ground, and requiring a good deal of labor to get,
as he had only a pocket-knife. Searching for these, he found a nest of
big ants, which he let run on his hand, and stripped them off in his
mouth; these had an agreeable acid taste. One of his greatest
privations was the want of tobacco; and a pleasant smoke at evening
would have been a relief which only a voyageur could appreciate. He
tried the dried leaves of the live-oak, knowing that those of other
oaks were sometimes used as a substitute; but these were too thick, and
would not do. On the 4th he made seven or eight miles, walking slowly
along the river, avoiding as much as possible to climb the hills. In
little pools he caught some of the smallest kind of frogs, which he
swallowed, not so much in the gratification of hunger, as in the hope
of obtaining some strength. Scattered along the river were old
fire-places, where the Indians had roasted muscles and acorns; but
though he searched diligently, he did not there succeed in finding
either. He had collected firewood for the night, when he heard, at some
distance from the river, the barking of what he thought were two dogs,
and walked in that direction as quickly as he was able, hoping to find
there some Indian hut, but met only two wolves; and, in his
disappointment, the gloom of the forest was doubled.

Traveling the next day feebly down the river, he found five or six
Indians at the huts of which we have spoken: some were painting
themselves black, and others roasting acorns. Being only one man, they
did not run off, but received him kindly, and gave him a welcome supply
of roasted acorns. He gave them his pocket-knife in return, and
stretched out his hand to one of the Indians, who did not appear to
comprehend the motion, but jumped back, as if he thought he was about
to lay hold of him. They seemed afraid of him, not certain as to what
he was.

Traveling on, he came to the place where we had found the squaws. Here
he found our fire still burning, and the tracks of the horses. The
sight gave him sudden hope and courage; and, following as fast as he
could, joined us at evening.

6th.--We continued on our road through the same surpassingly beautiful
country, entirely unequalled for the pasturage of stock by any thing we
had ever seen. Our horses had now become so strong that they were able
to carry us, and we traveled rapidly--over four miles an hour; four of
us riding every alternate hour. Every few hundred yards we came upon a
little band of deer; but we were too eager to reach the settlement,
which we momentarily expected to discover, to halt for any other than a
passing shot. In a few hours we reached a large fork, the northern
branch of the river, and equal in size to that which we had descended.
Together they formed a beautiful stream, 60 to 100 yards wide; which at
first, ignorant of the nature of the country through which that river
ran, we took to be the Sacramento.

We continued down the right bank of the river, traveling for a while
over a wooded upland, where we had the delight to discover tracks of
cattle. To the southwest was visible a black column of smoke, which we
had frequently noticed in descending, arising from the fires we had
seen from the top of the Sierra. From the upland we descended into
broad groves on the river, consisting of the evergreen, and a new
species of a white-oak, with a large tufted top, and three to six feet
in diameter. Among these was no brushwood; and the grassy surface gave
to it the appearance of parks in an old-settled country. Following the
tracks of the horses and cattle, in search of people, we discovered a
small village of Indians. Some of these had on shirts of civilized
manufacture, but were otherwise naked, and we could understand nothing
from them: they appeared entirely astonished at seeing us.

We made an acorn meal at noon, and hurried on; the valley being gay
with flowers, and some of the banks being absolutely golden with the
Californian poppy, (_eschescholtzia crocea_.) Here the grass was smooth
and green, and the groves very open; the large oaks throwing a broad
shade among sunny spots. Shortly afterwards we gave a shout at the
appearance, on a little bluff, of a neatly-built _adobe_ house, with
glass windows. We rode up, but, to our disappointment, found only
Indians. There was no appearance of cultivation, and we could see no
cattle; and we supposed the place had been abandoned. We now pressed on
more eagerly than ever: the river swept round a large bend to the
right; the hills lowered down entirely; and, gradually entering a broad
valley, we came unexpectedly into a large Indian village, where the
people looked clean, and wore cotton shirts and various other articles
of dress. They immediately crowded around us, and we had the
inexpressible delight to find one who spoke a little indifferent
Spanish, but who at first confounded us by saying there were no whites
in the country; but just then a well-dressed Indian came up, and made
his salutations in very well-spoken Spanish. In answer to our
inquiries, he informed us that we were upon the _Rio de los
Americanos_, (the river of the Americans,) and that it joined the
Sacramento river about ten miles below. Never did a name sound more
sweetly! We felt ourselves among our countrymen; for the name of
_American_, in these distant parts, is applied to the citizens of the
United States. To our eager inquiries he answered, "I am a _vaquero_
(cowherd) in the service of Capt. Sutter, and the people of this
_rancheria_ work for him." Our evident satisfaction made him
communicative; and he went on to say that Capt. Sutter was a very rich
man, and always glad to see his country people. We asked for his house.

He answered, that it was just over the hill before us; and offered, if
we would wait a moment, to take his horse and conduct us to it. We
readily accepted this civil offer. In a short distance we came in sight
of the fort; and, passing on the way the house of a settler on the
opposite side, (a Mr. Sinclair,) we forded the river; and in a few
miles were met, a short distance from the fort, by Capt. Sutter
himself. He gave us a most frank and cordial reception--conducted us
immediately to his residence--and under his hospitable roof we had a
night of rest, enjoyment, and refreshment, which none but ourselves
could appreciate. But the party left in the mountains, with Mr.
Fitzpatrick, were to be attended to; and the next morning, supplied
with fresh horses and provisions, I hurried off to meet them. On the
second day we met, a few miles below the forks of the Rio de los
Americanos; and a more forlorn and pitiable sight than they presented,
cannot well be imagined. They were all on foot--each man, weak and
emaciated, leading a horse or mule as weak and emaciated as themselves.
They had experienced great difficulty in descending the mountains, made
slippery by rains and melting snows, and many horses fell over
precipices, and were killed; and with some were lost the _packs_ they
carried. Among these, was a mule with the plants which we had collected
since leaving Fort Hall, along a line of 2,000 miles' travel. Out of 67
horses and mules, with which we commenced crossing the Sierra, only 33
reached the valley of the Sacramento, and they only in a condition to
be led along. Mr. Fitzpatrick and his party, traveling more slowly, had
been able to make some little exertion at hunting, and had killed a few
deer. The scanty supply was a great relief to them; for several had
been made sick by the strange and unwholesome food which the
preservation of life compelled them to use. We stopped and encamped as
soon as we met; and a repast of good beef, excellent bread, and
delicious salmon, which I had brought along, was their first relief
from the sufferings of the Sierra, and their first introduction to the
luxuries of the Sacramento. It required all our philosophy and
forbearance to prevent _plenty_ from becoming as hurtful to us now, as
_scarcity_ had been before.

The next day, March 8th, we encamped at the junction of the two rivers,
the Sacramento and Americanos; and thus found the whole party in the
beautiful valley of the Sacramento. It was a convenient place for the
camp; and, among other things, was within reach of the wood necessary
to make the pack-saddles, which we should need on our long journey
home, from which we were farther distant now than we were four months
before, when from the Dalles of the Columbia we so cheerfully took up
the homeward line of march.

Captain Sutter emigrated to this country from the western part of
Missouri in 1838-39, and formed the first settlement in the valley, on
a large grant of land which he obtained from the Mexican Government. He
had, at first, some trouble with the Indians; but, by the occasional
exercise of well-timed authority, he has succeeded in converting them
into a peaceable and industrious people. The ditches around his
extensive wheat-fields; the making of the sun-dried bricks, of which
his fort is constructed; the ploughing, harrowing, and other
agricultural operations, are entirely the work of these Indians, for
which they receive a very moderate compensation--principally in shirts,
blankets, and other articles of clothing. In the same manner, on
application to the chief of a village, he readily obtains as many boys
and girls as he has any use for. There were at this time a number of
girls at the fort, in training for a future woolen factory; but they
were now all busily engaged in constantly watering the gardens, which
the unfavorable dryness of the season rendered necessary. The
occasional dryness of some seasons, I understood to be the only
complaint of the settlers in this fertile valley, as it sometimes
renders the crops uncertain. Mr. Sutter was about making arrangements
to irrigate his lands by means of the Rio de los Americanos. He had
this year sown, and altogether by Indian labor, three hundred fanegas
of wheat.

A few years since, the neighboring Russian establishment of Ross, being
about to withdraw from the country, sold to him a large number of
stock, with agricultural and other stores, with a number of pieces of
artillery and other munitions of war; for these, a regular yearly
payment is made in grain.

The fort is a quadrangular _adobe_ structure, mounting twelve pieces of
artillery, (two of them brass,) and capable of admitting a garrison of
a thousand men; this, at present, consists of forty Indians in
uniform--one of whom was always found on duty at the gate. As might
naturally be expected, the pieces are not in very good order. The
whites in the employment of Capt. Sutter, American, French, and German,
amount, perhaps, to thirty men. The inner wall is formed into
buildings, comprising the common quarters, with blacksmith and other
workshops; the dwelling-house, with a large distillery-house, and other
buildings, occupying more the centre of the area.

It is built upon a pond-like stream, at times a running creek
communicating with the Rio de los Americanos, which enters the
Sacramento about two miles below. The latter is here a noble river,
about three hundred yards broad, deep and tranquil, with several
fathoms of water in the channel, and its banks continuously timbered.
There were two vessels belonging to Capt. Sutter at anchor near the
landing--one a large two-masted lighter, and the other a schooner,
which was shortly to proceed on a voyage to Fort Vancouver for a cargo
of goods.

Since his arrival, several other persons, principally Americans, have
established themselves in the valley. Mr. Sinclair, from whom I
experienced much kindness during my stay, is settled a few miles
distant, on the Rio de los Americanos. Mr. Coudrois, a gentleman from
Germany, has established himself on Feather river, and is associated
with Capt. Sutter in agricultural pursuits. Among other improvements,
they are about to introduce the cultivation of rape-seed, (_brassica
rapus_,) which there is every reason to believe is admirably adapted to
the climate and soil. The lowest average produce of wheat, as far as we
can at present know, is thirty-five fanegas for one sown; but, as an
instance of its fertility, it may be mentioned that Señor Valejo
obtained, on a piece of ground where sheep had been pastured, 800
fanegas for eight sown. The produce being different in various places,
a very correct idea cannot be formed.

An impetus was given to the active little population by our arrival, as
we were in want of every thing. Mules, horses, and cattle, were to be
collected; the horse-mill was at work day and night, to make sufficient
flour; the blacksmith's shop was put in requisition for horse-shoes and
bridle-bits; and pack-saddles, ropes, and bridles, and all the other
little equipments of the camp, were again to be provided.

The delay thus occasioned was one of repose and enjoyment, which our
situation required, and, anxious as we were to resume our homeward
journey, was regretted by no one. In the mean time, I had the pleasure
to meet with Mr. Chiles, who was residing at a farm on the other side
of the river Sacramento, while engaged in the selection of a place for
a settlement, for which he had received the necessary grant of land
from the Mexican government.

It will be remembered that we had parted near the frontier of the
states, and that he had subsequently descended the valley of Lewis's
fork, with a party of ten or twelve men, with the intention of crossing
the intermediate mountains to the waters of the Bay of San Francisco.
In the execution of this design, and aided by subsequent information,
he left the Columbia at the mouth of _Malheur_ river, and, making his
way to the head-waters of the Sacramento with a part of his company,
traveled down that river to the settlements of Nueva Helvetia. The
other party, to whom he had committed his wagons, and mill-irons, and
saws, took a course further to the south, and the wagons and their
contents were lost.

On the 22d we made a preparatory move, and encamped near the settlement
of Mr. Sinclair, on the left bank of the Rio de los Americanos. I had
discharged five of the party; Neal, the blacksmith, (an excellent
workman, and an unmarried man, who had done his duty faithfully, and
had been of very great service to me,) desired to remain, as strong
inducements were offered here to mechanics.

Although at considerable inconvenience to myself, his good conduct
induced me to comply with his request; and I obtained for him from
Capt. Sutter, a present compensation of two dollars and a half per
diem, with a promise that it should be increased to five, if he proved
as good a workman as had been represented. He was more particularly an
agricultural blacksmith. The other men were discharged with their own
consent.

While we remained at this place, Derosier, one of our best men, whose
steady good conduct had won my regard, wandered off from the camp, and
never returned to it again, nor has he since been heard of.

24th.--We resumed our journey with an ample stock of provisions and a
large cavalcade of animals, consisting of 130 horses and mules, and
about 30 head of cattle, five of which were milch-cows. Mr. Sutter
furnished us also with an Indian boy, who had been trained as a
_vaquero_, and who would be serviceable in managing our cavalcade,
great part of which were nearly as wild as buffalo, and who was,
besides, very anxious to go along with us. Our direct course home was
east, but the Sierra would force us south, above 500 miles of
traveling, to a pass at the head of the San Joaquin river. This pass,
reported to be good, was discovered by Mr. Joseph Walker, of whom I
have already spoken, and whose name it might therefore appropriately
bear. To reach it, our course lay along the valley of the San
Joaquin--the river on our right, and the lofty wall of the impassable
Sierra on the left. From that pass we were to move southeastwardly,
having the Sierra then on the right, and reach the "_Spanish trail_,"
deviously traced from one watering-place to another, which constituted
the route of the caravans from _Puebla de los Angelos_, near the coast
of the Pacific, to _Santa Fé_ of New Mexico. From the pass to this
trail was 150 miles. Following that trail through a desert, relieved by
some fertile plains indicated by the recurrence of the term _vegas_,
until it turned to the right to cross the Colorado, our course would be
northeast until we regained the latitude we had lost in arriving at
Eutah lake, and thence to the Rocky mountains at the head of the
Arkansas. This course of traveling, forced upon us by the structure of
the country, would occupy a computed distance of 2,000 miles before we
reached the head of the Arkansas--not a settlement to be seen upon
it--and the names of places along it, all being Spanish or Indian,
indicated that it had been but little trod by _American_ feet. Though
long, and not free from hardships, this route presented some points of
attraction, in tracing the Sierra Nevada--turning the Great Basin,
perhaps crossing its rim on the south--completely solving the problem
of any river, except the Colorado, from the Rocky mountains on that
part of our continent--and seeing the southern extremity of the Great
Salt lake, of which the northern part had been examined the year before.

Taking leave of Mr. Sutter, who, with several gentlemen, accompanied us
a few miles on our way, we traveled about 18 miles, and encamped on the
_Rio de los Cosumnes_, a stream receiving its name from the Indians who
live in its valley. Our road was through a level country, admirably
suited to cultivation, and covered with groves of oak-trees,
principally the evergreen-oak, and a large oak already mentioned, in
form like those of the white-oak. The weather, which here, at this
season, can easily be changed from the summer heat of the valley to the
frosty mornings and bright days nearer the mountains, continued
delightful for travelers, but unfavorable to the agriculturists, whose
crops of wheat began to wear a yellow tinge from want of rain.

25th.--We traveled for 28 miles over the same delightful country as
yesterday, and halted in a beautiful bottom at the ford of the _Rio de
los Mukelemnes_, receiving its name from another Indian tribe living on
the river. The bottoms on the stream are broad, rich, and extremely
fertile, and the uplands are shaded with oak groves. A showy _lupinus_,
of extraordinary beauty, growing four to five feet in height, and
covered with spikes in bloom, adorned the banks of the river, and
filled the air with a light and grateful perfume.

On the 26th we halted at the _Arroyo de las Calaveras_, (Skull creek,)
a tributary to the San Joaquin--the previous two streams entering the
bay between the San Joaquin and Sacramento rivers. This place is
beautiful, with open groves of oak, and a grassy sward beneath, with
many plants in bloom, some varieties of which seem to love the shade of
the trees, and grow there in close small fields. Near the river, and
replacing the grass, are great quantities of _ammole_, (soap plant,)
the leaves of which are used in California for making, among other
things, mats for saddle-cloths. A vine with a small white flower,
(_melothria?_) called here _la yerba buena_, and which, from its
abundance, gives name to an island and town in the bay, was to-day very
frequent on our road--sometimes running on the ground or climbing the
trees.

27th.--To-day we traveled steadily and rapidly up the valley; for, with
our wild animals, any other gait was impossible, and making about five
miles an hour. During the earlier part of the day, our ride had been
over a very level prairie, or rather a succession of long stretches of
prairie, separated by lines and groves of oak timber, growing along dry
gullies, which are filled with water in seasons of rain; and, perhaps,
also, by the melting snows. Over much of this extent, the vegetation
was sparse; the surface showing plainly the action of water, which, in
the season of flood, the Joaquin spreads over the valley. About one
o'clock we came again among innumerable flowers; and a few miles
further, fields of the beautiful blue-flowering _lupine_, which seems
to love the neighborhood of water, indicated that we were approaching a
stream. We here found this beautiful shrub in thickets, some of them
being 12 feet in height. Occasionally three or four plants were
clustered together, forming a grand bouquet, about 90 feet in
circumference, and 10 feet high; the whole summit covered with spikes
of flowers, the perfume of which is very sweet and grateful. A lover of
natural beauty can imagine with what pleasure we rode among these
flowering groves, which filled the air with a light and delicate
fragrance. We continued our road for about a half a mile, interspersed
through an open grove of live-oaks, which, in form, were the most
symmetrical and beautiful we had yet seen in this country. The ends of
their branches rested on the ground, forming somewhat more than a half
sphere of very full and regular figure, with leaves apparently smaller
than usual.

The Californian poppy, of a rich orange color, was numerous to-day. Elk
and several bands of antelope made their appearance.

Our road was now one continued enjoyment; and it was pleasant riding
among this assemblage of green pastures with varied flowers and
scattered groves, and out of the warm green spring to look at the rocky
and snowy peaks where lately we had suffered so much. Emerging from the
timber, we came suddenly upon the Stanislaus river, where we hoped to
find a ford, but the stream was flowing by, dark and deep, swollen by
the mountain snows; its general breadth was about 50 yards.

We traveled about five miles up the river, and encamped without being
able to find a ford. Here we made a large _coral_, in order to be able
to catch a sufficient number of our wild animals to relieve those
previously packed.

Under the shade of the oaks, along the river, I noticed _erodium
cicutarium_ in bloom, eight or ten inches high. This is the plant which
we had seen the squaws gathering on the Rio de los Americanos. By the
inhabitants of the valley it is highly esteemed for fattening cattle,
which appear to be very fond of it. Here, where the soil begins to be
sandy, it supplies to a considerable extent the want of grass.

Desirous, as far as possible, without delay, to include in our
examination the San Joaquin river, I returned this morning down the
Stanislaus for 17 miles, and again encamped without having found a
fording-place. After following it for eight miles further the next
morning, and finding ourselves in the vicinity of the San Joaquin,
encamped in a handsome oak grove, and, several cattle being killed, we
ferried over our baggage in their skins. Here our Indian boy, who
probably had not much idea of where he was going, and began to be
alarmed at the many streams which we were rapidly putting between him
and the village, deserted.

Thirteen head of cattle took a sudden fright, while we were driving
them across the river, and galloped off. I remained a day in the
endeavor to recover them; but, finding they had taken the trail back to
the fort, let them go without further effort. Here we had several days
of warm and pleasant rain, which doubtless saved the crops below.



APRIL.


On the 1st of April, we made 10 miles across a prairie without timber,
when we were stopped again by another large river, which is called the
_Rio de la Merced_, (river of our Lady of Mercy.) Here the country had
lost its character of extreme fertility, the soil having become more
sandy and light; but, for several days past, its beauty had been
increased by the additional animation of animal life; and now, it is
crowded with bands of elk and wild horses; and along the rivers are
frequent fresh tracks of grizzly bear, which are unusually numerous in
this country.

Our route had been along the timber of the San Joaquin, generally about
eight miles distant, over a high prairie.

In one of the bands of elk seen to-day, there were about 200; but the
larger bands, both of these and wild horses, are generally found on the
other side of the river, which, for that reason, I avoided crossing. I
had been informed below, that the droves of wild horses were almost
invariably found on the western bank of the river; and the danger of
losing our animals among them, together with the wish of adding to our
reconnoissance the numerous streams which run down from the Sierra,
decided me to travel up the eastern bank.

2d.--The day was occupied in building a boat, and ferrying our baggage
across the river; and we encamped on the bank. A large fishing eagle
was slowly sailing along, looking after salmon; and there were some
pretty birds in the timber, with partridges, ducks and geese
innumerable in the neighborhood. We were struck with the tameness of
the latter bird at Helvetia, scattered about in flocks near the
wheat-fields, and eating grass on the prairie; a horseman would ride by
within 30 yards, without disturbing them.

3d.--To-day we touched several times the San Joaquin river--here a
fine-looking tranquil stream, with a slight current, and apparently
deep. It resembled the Missouri in color, with occasional points of
white sand; and its banks, where steep, were a kind of sandy clay; its
average width appeared to be about eighty yards. In the bottoms are
frequent ponds, where our approach disturbed multitudes of wild fowl,
principally geese. Skirting along the timber, we frequently started
elk; and large bands were seen during the day, with antelope and wild
horses. The low country and the timber rendered it difficult to keep
the main line of the river; and this evening we encamped on a tributary
stream, about five miles from its mouth. On the prairie bordering the
San Joaquin bottoms, there occurred during the day but little grass,
and in its place was a sparse and dwarf growth of plants; the soil
being sandy, with small bare places and hillocks, reminded me much of
the Platte bottoms; but, on approaching the timber, we found a more
luxuriant vegetation, and at our camp was an abundance of grass and
pea-vines.

The foliage of the oak is getting darker; and every thing, except that
the weather is a little cool, shows that spring is rapidly advancing;
and to-day we had quite a summer rain.

4th.--Commenced to rain at daylight, but cleared off brightly at
sunrise. We ferried the river without any difficulty, and continued up
the San Joaquin. Elk were running in bands over the prairie and in the
skirt of the timber. We reached the river at the mouth of a large
slough, which we were unable to ford, and made a circuit of several
miles around. Here the country appears very flat; oak-trees have
entirely disappeared, and are replaced by a large willow, nearly equal
to it in size. The river is about a hundred yards in breadth, branching
into sloughs, and interspersed with islands. At this time it appears
sufficiently deep for a small steamer, but its navigation would be
broken by shallows at low water. Bearing in towards the river, we were
again forced off by another slough; and passing around, steered towards
a clump of trees on the river, and finding there good grass, encamped.
The prairies along the left bank are alive with immense droves of wild
horses; and they had been seen during the day at every opening through
the woods which afforded us a view across the river. Latitude, by
observation, 37° 08' 00"; longitude 120° 45' 22".

5th--During the earlier part of the day's ride, the country presented a
lacustrine appearance; the river was deep, and nearly on a level with
the surrounding country; its banks raised like a levee, and fringed
with willows. Over the bordering plain were interspersed spots of
prairie among fields of _tule_, (bulrushes,) which in this country are
called _tulares_, and little ponds. On the opposite side, a line of
timber was visible which, according to information, points out the
course of the slough, which at times of high water connects with the
San Joaquin river--a large body of water in the upper part of the
valley, called the Tule lakes. The river and all its sloughs are very
full, and it is probable that the lake is now discharging. Here elk
were frequently started, and one was shot out of a band which ran
around us. On our left, the Sierra maintains its snowy height, and
masses of snow appear to descend very low towards the plains; probably
the late rains in the valley were snow on the mountains. We traveled 37
miles, and encamped on the river. Longitude of the camp, 120° 28' 34",
and latitude, 36° 49' 12".

6th.--After having traveled fifteen miles along the river, we made an
early halt, under the shade of sycamore-trees. Here we found the San
Joaquin coming down from the Sierra with a westerly course, and
checking our way, as all its tributaries had previously done. We had
expected to raft the river; but found a good ford, and encamped on the
opposite bank, where droves of wild horses were raising clouds of dust
on the prairie. Columns of smoke were visible in the direction of the
Tule lakes to the southward--probably kindled in the tulares by the
Indians, as signals that there were strangers in the valley.

We made, on the 7th, a hard march in a cold chilly rain from morning
until night--the weather so thick that we traveled by compass. This was
a _traverse_ from the San Joaquin to the waters of the Tule lakes, and
our road was over a very level prairie country. We saw wolves
frequently during the day, prowling about after the young antelope,
which cannot run very fast. These were numerous during the day, and two
were caught by the people.

Late in the afternoon we discovered timber, which was found to be
groves of oak-trees on a dry _arroyo_. The rain, which had fallen in
frequent showers, poured down in a storm at sunset, with a strong wind,
which swept off the clouds, and left a clear sky. Riding on through the
timber, about dark we found abundant water in small ponds, 20 to 30
yards in diameter, with clear deep water and sandy beds, bordered with
bog rushes, (_juncus effusus_,) and a tall rush (_scirpus lacustris_)
twelve feet high, and surrounded near the margin with willow-trees in
bloom; among them one which resembled _salix myricoides_. The oak of
the groves was the same already mentioned, with small leaves, in form
like those of the white-oak, and forming, with the evergreen-oak, the
characteristic trees of the valley.

8th.--After a ride of two miles through brush and open groves, we
reached a large stream, called the River of the Lake, resembling in
size the San Joaquin, and being about 100 yards broad. This is the
principal tributary to the Tule lakes, which collect all the waters in
the upper part of the valley. While we were searching for a ford, some
Indians appeared on the opposite bank, and having discovered that we
were not Spanish soldiers, showed us the way to a good ford several
miles above.

The Indians of the Sierra make frequent descents upon the settlements
west of the Coast Range, which they keep constantly swept of horses;
among them are many who are called Christian Indians, being refugees
from Spanish missions. Several of these incursions occurred while we
were at Helvetia. Occasionally parties of soldiers follow them across
the Coast Range, but never enter the Sierra.

On the opposite side we found some forty or fifty Indians, who had come
to meet us from the village below. We made them some small presents,
and invited them to our encampment, which, after about three miles
through fine oak groves, we made on the river. We made a fort,
principally on account of our animals. The Indians brought otter-skins,
and several kinds of fish, and bread made of acorns, to trade. Among
them were several who had come to live among these Indians when the
missions were broken up, and who spoke Spanish fluently. They informed
us that they were called by the Spaniards _mansitos_, (tame,) in
distinction from the wilder tribes of the mountains. They, however,
think themselves very insecure, not knowing at what unforeseen moment
the sins of the latter may be visited upon them. They are dark-skinned,
but handsome and intelligent Indians, and live principally on acorns
and the roots of the tule, of which also their huts are made.

By observation, the latitude of the encampment is 36° 24' 50", and
longitude 119° 41' 40".

9th.--For several miles we had very bad traveling over what is called
rotten ground, in which the horses were frequently up to their knees.
Making towards a line of timber, we found a small fordable stream,
beyond which the country improved, and the grass became excellent; and
crossing a number of dry and timbered _arroyos_, we traveled until late
through open oak groves, and encamped among a collection of streams.
These were running among rushes and willows; and, as usual, flocks of
blackbirds announced our approach to water. We have here approached
considerably nearer to the eastern Sierra, which shows very plainly,
still covered with masses of snow, which yesterday and to-day has also
appeared abundant on the Coast Range.

10th.--To-day we made another long journey of about forty miles,
through a country uninteresting and flat, with very little grass and a
sandy soil, in which several branches we crossed had lost their water.
In the evening the face of the country became hilly; and, turning a few
miles up towards the mountains, we found a good encampment on a pretty
stream hidden among the hills, and handsomely timbered, principally
with large cottonwoods, (_populus_, differing from any in Michaux's
Sylva.) The seed-vessels of this tree were now just about bursting.

Several Indians came down the river to see us in the evening; we gave
them supper, and cautioned them against stealing our horses; which they
promised not to attempt.

11th.--A broad trail along the river here takes out among the hills.
"Buen camino," (good road,) said one of the Indians, of whom we had
inquired about the pass; and, following it accordingly, it conducted us
beautifully through a very broken country, by an excellent way, which,
otherwise, we should have found extremely bad. Taken separately, the
hills present smooth and graceful outlines, but, together, make bad
traveling ground. Instead of grass, the whole face of the country is
closely covered with _erodium cicutarium_, here only two or three
inches high. Its height and beauty varied in a remarkable manner with
the locality, being, in many low places which we passed during the day,
around streams and springs, two and three feet high. The country had
now assumed a character of aridity; and the luxuriant green of these
little streams, wooded with willow, oak, or sycamore, looked very
refreshing among the sandy hills.

In the evening we encamped on a large creek, with abundant water. I
noticed here in bloom, for the first time since leaving the Arkansas
waters, the _Miribilis Jalapa_.

12th.--Along our road to-day the country was altogether sandy, and
vegetation meager. _Ephedra occidentalis_, which we had first seen in
the neighborhood of the Pyramid lake, made its appearance here, and in
the course of the day became very abundant, and in large bushes.
Towards the close of the afternoon, we reached a tolerably large river,
which empties into a small lake at the head of the valley; it is about
thirty-five yards wide, with a stony and gravelly bed, and the swiftest
stream we have crossed since leaving the bay. The bottoms produced no
grass, though well timbered with willow and cottonwood; and, after
ascending several miles, we made a late encampment on a little bottom,
with scanty grass. In greater part, the vegetation along our road
consisted now of rare and unusual plants, among which many were
entirely new.

Along the bottoms were thickets consisting of several varieties of
shrubs, which made here their first appearance; and among these was
_Garrya elliptica_, (Lindley,) a small tree belonging to a very
peculiar natural order, and, in its general appearance, (growing in
thickets,) resembling willow. It now became common along the streams,
frequently supplying the place of _salix longifolia_.

13th.--The water was low, and a few miles above we forded the river at
a rapid, and marched in a southeasterly direction over a less broken
country. The mountains were now very near, occasionally looming out
through fog. In a few hours we reached the bottom of a creek without
water, over which the sandy beds were dispersed in many branches.
Immediately where we struck it, the timber terminated; and below, to
the right, it was a broad bed of dry and bare sands. There were many
tracks of Indians and horses imprinted in the sand, which, with other
indications, informed us was the creek issuing from the pass, and which
we have called Pass creek. We ascended a trail for a few miles along
the creek, and suddenly found a stream of water five feet wide, running
with a lively current, but losing itself almost immediately. This
little stream showed plainly the manner in which the mountain waters
lose themselves in sand at the eastern foot of the Sierra, leaving only
a parched desert and arid plains beyond. The stream enlarged rapidly,
and the timber became abundant as we ascended.

A new species of pine made its appearance, with several kinds of oaks,
and a variety of trees; and the country changing its appearance
suddenly and entirely, we found ourselves again traveling among the old
orchard-like places. Here we selected a delightful encampment in a
handsome green oak hollow, where among the open bolls of the trees was
an abundant sward of grass and pea-vines. In the evening a Christian
Indian rode into the camp, well dressed, with long spurs, and a
_sombreo_, and speaking Spanish fluently. It was an unexpected
apparition, and a strange and pleasant sight in this desolate gorge of
a mountain--an Indian face, Spanish costume, jingling spurs, and horse
equipped after the Spanish manner. He informed me that he belonged to
one of the Spanish missions to the south, distant two or three days'
ride, and that he had obtained from the priests leave to spend a few
days with his relations in the Sierra. Having seen us enter the pass,
he had come down to visit us. He appeared familiarly acquainted with
the country, and gave me definite and clear information in regard to
the desert region east of the mountains. I had entered the pass with a
strong disposition to vary my route, and to travel directly across
towards the Great Salt lake, in the view of obtaining some acquaintance
with the interior of the Great Basin, while pursuing a direct course
for the frontier; but his representation, which described it as an arid
and barren desert, that had repulsed by its sterility all the attempts
of the Indians to penetrate it, determined me for the present to
relinquish the plan, and agreeably to his advice, after crossing the
Sierra, continue our intended route along its eastern base to the
Spanish trail. By this route, a party of six Indians, who had come from
a great river in the eastern part of the desert to trade with his
people, had just started on their return. He would himself return the
next day to _San Fernando_, and as our roads would be the same for two
days, he offered his services to conduct us so far on our way. His
offer was gladly accepted. The fog which had somewhat interfered with
views in the valley, had entirely passed off, and left a clear sky.
That which had enveloped us in the neighborhood of the pass proceeded
evidently from fires kindled among the tulares by Indians living near
the lakes, and which were intended to warn those in the mountains that
there were strangers in the valley. Our position was in latitude 35°
17' 12", and longitude 118° 35' 03".

14th.--Our guide joined us this morning on the trail; and, arriving in
a short distance at an open bottom where the creek forked, we continued
up the right-hand branch, which was enriched by a profusion of flowers,
and handsomely wooded with sycamore, oaks, cottonwood, and willow, with
other trees, and some shrubby plants. In its long strings of balls,
this sycamore differs from that of the United States, and is the
_platanus occidentalus_ of Hooker--a new species recently described
among the plants collected in the voyage of the Sulphur. The cottonwood
varied its foliage with white tufts, and the feathery seeds were flying
plentifully through the air. Gooseberries, nearly ripe, were very
abundant in the mountains; and as we passed the dividing grounds, which
were not very easy to ascertain, the air was filled with perfume, as if
we were entering a highly cultivated garden; and, instead of green, our
pathway and the mountain sides were covered with fields of yellow
flowers, which here was the prevailing color. Our journey to-day was in
the midst of an advanced spring, whose green and floral beauty offered
a delightful contrast to the sandy valley we had just left. All the
day, snow was in sight on the butte of the mountain, which frowned down
upon us on the right; but we beheld it now with feelings of pleasant
security, as we rode along between green trees, and on flowers, with
hummingbirds and other feathered friends of the traveler enlivening the
serene spring air. As we reached the summit of this beautiful pass, and
obtained a view into the eastern country, we saw at once that here was
the place to take leave of all such pleasant scenes as those around us.
The distant mountains were now bald rocks again, and below the land had
any color but green. Taking into consideration the nature of the Sierra
Nevada, we found this pass an excellent one for horses; and with a
little labor, or perhaps with a more perfect examination of the
localities, it might be made sufficiently practicable for wagons. Its
latitude and longitude may be considered that of our last encampment,
only a few miles distant. The elevation was not taken--our half-wild
cavalcade making it troublesome to halt before night, when once started.

We here left the waters of the bay of San Francisco, and, though forced
upon them contrary to my intentions, I cannot regret the necessity
which occasioned the deviation. It made me well acquainted with the
great range of the Sierra Nevada of the Alta California, and showed
that this broad and elevated snowy ridge was a continuation of the
Cascade Range of Oregon, between which and the ocean there is still
another and a lower range, parallel to the former and to the coast, and
which may be called the Coast Range. It also made me well acquainted
with the basin of the San Francisco bay, and with the two pretty rivers
and their valleys (the Sacramento and San Joaquin) which are tributary
to that bay, and cleared up some points in geography on which error had
long prevailed. It had been constantly represented, as I have already
stated, that the bay of San Francisco opened far into the interior, by
some river coming down from the base of the Rocky mountains, and upon
which supposed stream the name of Rio Buenaventura had been bestowed.
Our observations of the Sierra Nevada, in the long distance from the
head of the Sacramento, to the head of the San Joaquin, and of the
valley below it, which collects all the waters of the San Francisco
bay, show that this neither is nor can be the case. No river from the
interior does, or can, cross the Sierra Nevada--itself more lofty than
the Rocky mountains; and as to the Buenaventura, the mouth of which
seen on the coast gave the idea and the name of the reputed great
river, it is, in fact, a small stream of no consequence, not only below
the Sierra Nevada, but actually below the Coast Range--taking its rise
within half a degree of the ocean, running parallel to it for about two
degrees, and then falling into the Pacific near Monterey. There is no
opening from the bay of San Francisco into the interior of the
continent. The two rivers which flow into it are comparatively short,
and not perpendicular to the coast, but lateral to it, and having their
heads towards Oregon and southern California. They open lines of
communication north and south, and not eastwardly; and thus this want
of interior communication from the San Francisco bay, now fully
ascertained, gives great additional value to the Columbia, which stands
alone as the only great river on the Pacific slope of our continent
which leads from the ocean to the Rocky mountains, and opens a line of
communication from the sea to the valley of the Mississippi.

Four _companeros_ joined our guide at the pass; and two going back at
noon, the others continued on in company. Descending from the hills, we
reached a country of fine grass, where the _erodium cicutarium_ finally
disappeared, giving place to an excellent quality of bunch-grass.
Passing by some springs where there was a rich sward of grass among
groves of large black-oak, we rode over a plain on which the guide
pointed out a spot where a refugee Christian Indian had been killed by
a party of soldiers which had unexpectedly penetrated into the
mountains. Crossing a low sierra, and descending a hollow where a
spring gushed out, we were struck by the sudden appearance of _yucca_
trees, which gave a strange and southern character to the country, and
suited well with the dry and desert region we were approaching.
Associated with the idea of barren sands, their stiff and ungraceful
form makes them to the traveler the most repulsive tree in the
vegetable kingdom. Following the hollow, we shortly came upon a creek
timbered with large black-oak, which yet had not put forth a leaf.
There was a small rivulet of running water, with good grass.

15th.--The Indians who had accompanied the guide returned this morning,
and I purchased from them a Spanish saddle and long spurs, as
reminiscences of the time; and for a few yards of scarlet cloth they
gave me a horse, which afterwards became food for other Indians.

We continued a short distance down the creek, in which our guide
informed us that the water very soon disappeared, and turned directly
to the southward along the foot of the mountain; the trail on which we
rode appearing to describe the eastern limit of travel, where water and
grass terminated. Crossing a low spur, which bordered the creek, we
descended to a kind of plain among the lower spurs, the desert being in
full view on our left, apparently illimitable. A hot mist lay over it
to-day, through which it had a white and glistening appearance; here
and there a few dry-looking _buttes_ and isolated black ridges rose
suddenly upon it. "There," said our guide, stretching out his hand
towards it, "there are the great _llanos_, (plains,) _no hay agua; no
hay zacate--nada_: there is neither water nor grass--nothing; every
animal that goes upon them, dies." It was indeed dismal to look upon,
and to conceive so great a change in so short a distance. One might
travel the world over, without finding a valley more fresh and
verdant--more floral and sylvan--more alive with birds and
animals--more bounteously watered--than we had left in the San Joaquin:
here within a few miles' ride, a vast desert plain spread before us,
from which the boldest traveler turned away in despair.

Directly in front of us, at some distance to the southward, and running
out in an easterly direction from the mountains, stretched a sierra,
having at the eastern end (perhaps 50 miles distant) some snowy peaks,
on which, by the information of our guide, snow rested all the year.

Our cavalcade made a strange and grotesque appearance; and it was
impossible to avoid reflecting upon our position and composition in
this remote solitude. Within two degrees of the Pacific ocean--already
far south of the latitude of Monterey--and still forced on south by a
desert on one hand, and a mountain range on the other--guided by a
civilized Indian, attended by two wild ones from the Sierra--a Chinook
from the Columbia, and our mixture of American, French, German--all
armed--four or five languages heard at once--above a hundred horses and
mules, half wild--American, Spanish, and Indian dresses and equipments
intermingled--such was our composition. Our march was a sort of
procession. Scouts ahead and on the flanks; a front and rear division;
the pack-animals, baggage, and horned-cattle in the centre; and the
whole stretching a quarter of a mile along our dreary path. In this
form we journeyed, looking more as if we belonged to Asia than to the
United States of America.

We continued in a southerly direction across the plain, to which, as
well as to all the country, so far as we could see, the _yucca_ trees
gave a strange and singular character. Several new plants appeared,
among which was a zygophyllaceous shrub, (_zygophyllum Californicum_,
Torr. and Frem.,) sometimes ten feet in height; in form, and in the
pliancy of its branches, it is rather a graceful plant. Its leaves are
small, covered with a resinous substance; and, particularly when
bruised and crushed, exhale a singular but very agreeable and
refreshing odor. This shrub and the _yucca_, with many varieties of
cactus, make the characteristic features in the vegetation for a long
distance to the eastward. Along the foot of the mountain, 20 miles to
the southward, red stripes of flowers were visible during the morning,
which we supposed to be variegated sandstones. We rode rapidly during
the day, and in the afternoon emerged from the _yucca_ forest at the
foot of an _outlier_ of the Sierra before us, and came among the fields
of flowers we had seen in the morning, which consisted principally of
the rich orange-colored California poppy, mingled with other flowers of
brighter tints. Reaching the top of the spur, which was covered with
fine bunch-grass, and where the hills were very green, our guide
pointed to a small hollow in the mountain before us, saying, "_a este
piedra hay agua_." He appeared to know every nook in the country. We
continued our beautiful road, and reached a spring in the slope at the
foot of the ridge, running in a green ravine, among granite boulders;
here nightshade, and borders of buckwheat, with their white blossoms
around the granite rocks, attracted our notice as familiar plants.
Several antelopes were seen among the hills, and some large hares. Men
were sent back this evening in search of a wild mule with a valuable
pack, which had managed (as they frequently do) to hide itself along
the road.

By observation, the latitude of the camp is 34° 41' 42", and longitude
118° 20' 00". The next day the men returned with the mule.

17th.--Crossing the ridge by a beautiful pass of hollows, where several
deer broke out of the thickets, we emerged at a small salt lake in a
_vallon_ lying nearly east and west, where a trail from the mission of
_San Buenaventura_ comes in. The lake is about 1,200 yards in diameter;
surrounded on the margin by a white salty border, which, by the smell,
reminded us slightly of Lake Abert. There are some cottonwoods, with
willow and elder, around the lake; and the water is a little salt,
although not entirely unfit for drinking. Here we turned directly to
the eastward along the trail, which, from being seldom used, is almost
imperceptible; and, after traveling a few miles, our guide halted, and,
pointing to the hardly visible trail, "_aqui es camino_," said he, "_no
se pierde--va siempre_." He pointed out a black _butte_ on the plain at
the foot of the mountain, where we would find water to encamp at night;
and, giving him a present of knives and scarlet cloth, we shook hands
and parted. He bore off south, and in a day's ride would arrive at San
Fernando, one of several missions in this part of California, where the
country is so beautiful that it is considered a paradise, and the name
of its principal town (_Puebla de los Angeles_) would make it angelic.
We continued on through a succession of valleys, and came into a most
beautiful spot of flower fields; instead of green, the hills were
purple and orange, with unbroken beds, into which each color was
separately gathered. A pale straw-color, with a bright yellow, the rich
red orange of the poppy mingled with fields of purple, covered the spot
with a floral beauty; and, on the border of the sandy deserts, seemed
to invite the traveler to go no farther. Riding along through the
perfumed air, we soon after entered a defile overgrown with the ominous
_artemisia tridentata_, which conducted us into a sandy plain covered
more or less densely with forests of _yucca_.

Having now the snowy ridge on our right, we continued our way towards a
dark _butte_, belonging to a low sierra on the plain, and which our
guide had pointed out for a landmark. Late in the day, the familiar
growth of cottonwood, a line of which was visible ahead, indicated our
approach to a creek, which we reached where the water spread out into
sands, and a little below sank entirely. Here our guide had intended we
should pass the night; but there was not a blade of grass, and, hoping
to find nearer the mountain a little for the night, we turned up the
stream. A hundred yards above, we found the creek a fine stream,
sixteen feet wide, with a swift current. A dark night overtook us when
we reached the hills at the foot of the ridge, and we were obliged to
encamp without grass; tying up what animals we could secure in the
darkness, the greater part of the wild ones having free range for the
night. Here the stream was two feet deep, swift and clear, issuing from
a neighboring snow peak. A few miles before reaching this creek, we had
crossed a broad dry riverbed, which, nearer the hills, the hunters had
found a bold and handsome stream.

18th.--Some parties were engaged in hunting up the scattered horses,
and others in searching for grass above; both were successful, and late
in the day we encamped among some spring-heads of the river, in a
hollow which was covered with only tolerably good grasses, the lower
ground being entirely overgrown with large bunches of the coarse stiff
grass, (_carex sitchensis_.)

Our latitude, by observation, was 34° 27' 03", and longitude 117° 13'
00".

Traveling close along the mountain, we followed up, in the afternoon of
the 19th, another stream, in hopes to find a grass-patch like that of
the previous day, but were deceived; except some scattered bunch-grass,
there was nothing but rock and sand; and even the fertility of the
mountain seemed withered by the air of the desert. Among the few trees
was the nut pine, (_pinus monophyllus_.)

Our road the next day was still in an easterly direction along the
ridge, over very bad traveling ground, broken and confounded with
crippled trees and shrubs; and, after a difficult march of eighteen
miles, a general shout announced that we had struck the great object of
our search--THE SPANISH TRAIL--which here was running directly north.
The road itself, and its course, were equally happy discoveries to us.
Since the middle of December we had continually been forced south by
mountains and by deserts, and now would have to make six degrees of
_northing_, to regain the latitude on which we wished to cross the
Rocky mountains. The course of the road, therefore, was what we wanted;
and, once more, we felt like going homewards. A _road_ to travel on,
and the _right_ course to go, were joyful consolations to us; and our
animals enjoyed the beaten track like ourselves. Relieved from the
rocks and brush, our wild mules started off at a rapid rate, and in
fifteen miles we reached a considerable river, timbered with cottonwood
and willow, where we found a bottom of tolerable grass. As the animals
had suffered a great deal in the last few days, I remained here all
next day, to allow them the necessary repose; and it was now necessary,
at every favorable place, to make a little halt. Between us and the
Colorado river we were aware that the country was extremely poor in
grass, and scarce for water, there being many _jornadas_, (days'
journey,) or long stretches of forty to sixty miles, without water,
where the road was marked by bones of animals.

Although in California we had met with people who had passed over this
trail, we had been able to obtain no correct information about it; and
the greater part of what we had heard was found to be only a tissue of
falsehoods. The rivers that we found on it were never mentioned, and
others, particularly described in name and locality, were subsequently
seen in another part of the country. It was described as a tolerably
good sandy road, with so little rock as scarcely to require the animals
to be shod; and we found it the roughest and rockiest road we had ever
seen in the country, and which nearly destroyed our band of fine mules
and horses. Many animals are destroyed on it every year by a disease
called the foot-evil; and a traveler should never venture on it without
having his animals well shod, and also carrying extra shoes.

Latitude 34° 34' 11"; and longitude 117° 13' 00".

The morning of the 22d was clear and bright, and a snowy peak to the
southward shone out high and sharply defined. As has been usual since
we crossed the mountains and descended into the hot plains, we had a
gale of wind. We traveled down the right bank of the stream, over sands
which are somewhat loose, and have no verdure, but are occupied by
various shrubs. A clear bold stream, 60 feet wide, and several feet
deep, had a strange appearance, running between perfectly naked banks
of sand. The eye, however, is somewhat relieved by willows, and the
beautiful green of the sweet cottonwoods with which it is well wooded.
As we followed along its course, the river, instead of growing
constantly larger, gradually dwindled away, as it was absorbed by the
sand. We were now careful to take the old camping-places of the annual
Santa Fé caravans, which, luckily for us, had not yet made their yearly
passage. A drove of several thousand horses and mules would entirely
have swept away the scanty grass at the watering places, and we should
have been obliged to leave the road to obtain subsistence for our
animals. After riding 20 miles in a north-easterly direction, we found
an old encampment, where we halted.

By observation, the elevation of this encampment is 2,250 feet.

23d.--The trail followed still along the river, which, in the course of
the morning, entirely disappeared. We continued along the dry bed, in
which, after an interval of about 16 miles, the water reappeared in
some low places, well timbered with cottonwood and willow, where was
another of the customary camping-grounds. Here a party of six Indians
came into camp, poor and hungry, and quite in keeping with the
character of the country. Their arms were bows of unusual length, and
each had a large gourd, strengthened with meshes of cord, in which he
carried water. They proved to be the Mohahve Indians mentioned by our
recent guide; and from one of them, who spoke Spanish fluently, I
obtained some interesting information, which I would be glad to
introduce here. An account of the people inhabiting this region would
undoubtedly possess interest for the civilized world. Our journey
homewards was fruitful in incident; and the country through which we
traveled, although a desert, afforded much to excite the curiosity of
the botanist; but limited time, and the rapidly advancing season for
active operations, oblige me to omit all extended descriptions, and
hurry briefly to the conclusion of this report.

The Indian who spoke Spanish had been educated for a number of years at
one of the Spanish missions, and, at the breaking up of those
establishments, had returned to the mountains, where he had been found
by a party of _Mohahve_ (sometimes called _Amuchaba_) Indians, among
whom he had ever since resided.

He spoke of the leader of the present party as "_mi amo_," (my master.)
He said they lived upon a large river in the southeast, which the
"soldiers called the Rio Colorado;" but that, formerly, a portion of
them lived upon this river, and among the mountains which had bounded
the river valley to the northward during the day, and that here along
the river they had raised various kinds of melons. They sometimes came
over to trade with the Indians of the Sierra, bringing with them
blankets and goods manufactured by the Monquis and other Colorado
Indians. They rarely carried home horses, on account of the difficulty
of getting them across the desert, and of guarding them afterwards from
the Pa-utah Indians, who inhabit the Sierra, at the head of the _Rio
Virgen_, (river of the Virgin.)

He informed us that, a short distance below, this river finally
disappeared. The two different portions in which water is found had
received from the priests two different names; and subsequently I heard
it called by the Spaniards the _Rio de las Animas_, but on the map we
have called it the _Mohahve_ river.

24th.--We continued down the stream (or rather its bed) for about eight
miles, where there was water still in several holes, and encamped. The
caravans sometimes continued below, to the end of the river, from which
there is a very long _jornada_ of perhaps 60 miles, without water. Here
a singular and new species of acacia, with spiral pods or seed-vessels,
made its first appearance; becoming henceforward, for a considerable
distance, the characteristic tree. It was here comparatively large,
being about 20 feet in height, with a full and spreading top, the lower
branches declining towards the ground. It afterwards occurred of
smaller size, frequently in groves, and is very fragrant. It has been
called by Dr. Torrey, _spirolobium odoratum_. The zygophyllaceous shrub
had been constantly characteristic of the plains along the river; and
here, among many new plants, a new and very remarkable species of
eriogonum (_eriogonum inflatum_, Tor. & Frem.) made its first
appearance.

Our cattle had become so tired and poor by this fatiguing traveling,
that three of them were killed here, and the meat dried. The Indians
had now an occasion for a great feast and were occupied the remainder
of the day and all night in cooking and eating. There was no part of
the animal for which they did not find some use, except the bones. In
the afternoon we were surprised by the sudden appearance in the camp of
two Mexicans--a man and a boy. The name of the man was _Andreas
Fuentes_; and that of the boy, (a handsome lad, 11 years old,) _Pablo
Hernandez_. They belonged to a party consisting of six persons, the
remaining four being the wife of Fuentes, and the father and mother of
Pablo, and Santiago Giacome, a resident of New Mexico. With a cavalcade
of about thirty horses, they had come out from Puebla de los Angeles,
near the coast, under the guidance of Giacome, in advance of the great
caravan, in order to travel more at leisure, and obtain better grass.
Having advanced as far into the desert as was considered consistent
with their safety, they halted at the _Archilette_, one of the
customary camping-grounds, about 80 miles from our encampment, where
there is a spring of good water, with sufficient grass; and concluded
to await there the arrival of the great caravan. Several Indians were
soon discovered lurking about the camp, who, in a day or two after,
came in, and, after behaving in a very friendly manner, took their
leave, without awakening any suspicions. Their deportment begat a
security which proved fatal. In a few days afterwards, suddenly a party
of about one hundred Indians appeared in sight, advancing towards the
camp. It was too late, or they seemed not to have presence of mind to
take proper measures of safety; and the Indians charged down into their
camp, shouting as they advanced, and discharging flights of arrows.
Pablo and Fuentes were on horse-guard at the time, and mounted
according to the custom of the country. One of the principal objects of
the Indians was to get possession of the horses, and part of them
immediately surrounded the band; but, in obedience to the shouts of
Giacome, Fuentes drove the animals over and through the assailants, in
spite of their arrows; and, abandoning the rest to their fate, carried
them off at speed across the plain. Knowing that they would be pursued
by the Indians, without making any halt except to shift their saddles
to other horses, they drove them on for about sixty miles, and this
morning left them at a watering-place on the trail, called Agua de
Tomaso. Without giving themselves any time for rest, they hurried on,
hoping to meet the Spanish caravan, when they discovered my camp. I
received them kindly, taking them into my own mess, and promised them
such aid as circumstances might put it in my power to give.

25th.--We left the river abruptly, and, turning to the north, regained
in a few miles the main trail, (which had left the river sooner than
ourselves,) and continued our way across a lower ridge of the mountain,
through a miserable tract of sand and gravel. We crossed at intervals
the broad beds of dry gullies, where in the seasons of rains and
melting snows there would be brooks or rivulets: and at one of these,
where there was no indication of water, were several freshly-dug holes,
in which there was water at the depth of two feet. These holes had been
dug by the wolves, whose keen sense of smell had scented the water
under the dry sand. They were nice little wells, narrow, and dug
straight down; and we got pleasant water out of them.

The country had now assumed the character of an elevated and
mountainous desert; its general features being black, rocky ridges,
bald, and destitute of timber, with sandy basins between. Where the
sides of these ridges are washed by gullies, the plains below are
strewed with beds of large pebbles or rolled stones, destructive to our
soft-footed animals, accustomed to the soft plains of the Sacramento
valley. Through these sandy basins sometimes struggled a scanty stream,
or occurred a hole of water, which furnished camping-grounds for
travelers. Frequently in our journey across, snow was visible on the
surrounding mountains; but their waters rarely reached the sandy plain
below, where we toiled along, oppressed with thirst and a burning sun.
But, throughout this nakedness of sand and gravel, were many beautiful
plants and flowering shrubs, which occurred in many new species, and
with greater variety than we had been accustomed to see in the most
luxuriant prairie countries; this was a peculiarity of this desert.
Even where no grass would take root, the naked sand would bloom with
some rich and rare flower, which found its appropriate home in the arid
and barren spot.

Scattered over the plain, and tolerably abundant, was a handsome
leguminous shrub, three or four feet high, with fine bright purple
flowers. It is a new _psoralea_, and occurred frequently henceforward
along our road.

Beyond the first ridge, our road bore a little to the east of north,
towards a gap in a higher line of mountains; and, after traveling about
25 miles, we arrived at the _Agua de Tomaso_--the spring where the
horses had been left; but, as we expected, they were gone. A brief
examination of the ground convinced us that they had been driven off by
the Indians. Carson and Godey volunteered, with the Mexican, to pursue
them; and, well mounted, the three set off on the trail. At this
stopping-place there are a few bushes, and a very little grass. Its
water was a pool; but near by was a spring, which had been dug out by
Indians or travelers. Its water was cool--a great refreshment to us
under a burning sun.

In the evening Fuentes returned, his horse having failed; but Carson
and Godey had continued the pursuit.

I observed to-night an occultation of _a2 Cancri_, at the dark limb of
the moon, which gives for the longitude of the place 116° 23' 28"; the
latitude, by observation, is 35° 13' 08". From Helvetia to this place,
the positions along the intervening line are laid down, with the
longitudes obtained from the chronometer, which appears to have
retained its rate remarkably well; but henceforward, to the end of our
journey, the few longitudes given are absolute, depending upon a
subsequent occultation and eclipses of the satellites.

In the afternoon of the next day, a war-whoop was heard, such as
Indians make when returning from a victorious enterprise; and soon
Carson and Godey appeared, driving before them a band of horses,
recognised by Fuentes to be part of those they had lost. Two bloody
scalps, dangling from the end of Godey's gun, announced that they had
overtaken the Indians as well as the horses. They informed us, that
after Fuentes left them, from the failure of his horse, they continued
the pursuit alone, and towards night-fall entered the mountains, into
which the trail led. After sunset the moon gave light, and they
followed the trail by moonshine until late in the night, when it
entered a narrow defile, and was difficult to follow. Afraid of losing
it in the darkness of the defile, they tied up their horses, struck no
fire, and lay down to sleep, in silence and in darkness. Here they lay
from midnight until morning. At daylight they resumed the pursuit, and
about sunrise discovered the horses; and, immediately dismounting and
tying up their own, they crept cautiously to a rising ground which
intervened, from the crest of which they perceived the encampment of
four lodges close by. They proceeded quietly, and had got within 30 or
40 yards of their object, when a movement among the horses discovered
them to the Indians. Giving the war-shout, they instantly charged into
the camp, regardless of the number which the _four_ lodges would imply.
The Indians received them with a flight of arrows shot from their
long-bows, one of which passed through Godey's shirt-collar, barely
missing the neck: our men fired their rifles upon a steady aim, and
rushed in. Two Indians were stretched upon the ground, fatally pierced
with bullets: the rest fled, except a little lad that was captured. The
scalps of the fallen were instantly stripped off; but in the process,
one of them, who had two balls through his body, sprang to his feet,
the blood streaming from his skinned head, and uttering a hideous howl.
An old squaw, possibly his mother, stopped and looked back from the
mountainsides she was climbing, threatening and lamenting. The
frightful spectacle appalled the stout hearts of our men; but they did
what humanity required, and quickly terminated the agonies of the gory
savage. They were now masters of the camp, which was a pretty little
recess in the mountain, with a fine spring, and apparently safe from
all invasion. Great preparations had been made to feast a large party,
for it was a very proper place to rendezvous, and for the celebration
of such orgies as robbers of the desert would delight in. Several of
the best horses had been killed, skinned, and cut up; for the Indians
living in mountains, and only coming into the plains to rob and murder,
make no other use of horses than to eat them. Large earthen vessels
were on the fire, boiling and stewing the horse-beef; and several
baskets, containing 50 or 60 pairs of moccasins, indicated the
presence, or expectation, of a considerable party. They released the
boy, who had given strong evidence of the stoicism, or something else,
of the savage character, in commencing his breakfast upon a horse's
head, as soon as he found he was not to be killed, but only tied as a
prisoner. Their object accomplished, our men gathered up all the
surviving horses, fifteen in number, returned upon their trail, and
rejoined us, at our camp, in the afternoon of the same day. They had
rode about 100 miles, in the pursuit and return, and all in 30 hours.
The time, place, object, and numbers considered, this expedition of
Carson and Godey may be considered among the boldest and most
disinterested which the annals of western adventure, so full of daring
deeds, can present. Two men, in a savage desert, pursue day and night
an unknown body of Indians, into the defile of an unknown
mountain--attack them on sight, without counting numbers--and defeat
them in an instant--and for what? To punish the robbers of the desert,
and to avenge the wrongs of Mexicans whom they did not know. I repeat:
it was Carson and Godey who did this--the former an _American_, born in
the Boonslick county of Missouri; the latter a Frenchman, born in St.
Louis,--and both trained to western enterprise from early life.

By the information of Fuentes, we had now to make a long stretch of 40
or 50 miles across a plain which lay between us and the next possible
camp; and we resumed our journey late in the afternoon, with the
intention of traveling through the night, and avoiding the excessive
heat of the day, which was oppressive to our animals. For several hours
we traveled across a high plain, passing, at the opposite side, through
a canon by the bed of a creek, running northwardly into a small lake
beyond, and both of them being dry. We had a warm, moonshiny night;
and, traveling directly towards the north-star, we journeyed now across
an open plain, between mountain-ridges--that on the left being broken,
rocky, and bald, according to Carson and Godey, who had entered here in
pursuit of the horses. The plain appeared covered principally with the
_zygophyllum Californicum_, already mentioned; and the line of our road
was marked by the skeletons of horses, which were strewed to
considerable breadth over the plain. We were always warned on entering
one of these long stretches, by the bones of these animals, which had
perished before they could reach the water. About midnight we reached a
considerable stream-bed, now dry--the discharge of the waters of this
basin, (when it collected any)--down which we descended, in a
northwesterly direction. The creek-bed was overgrown with shrubbery,
and several hours before day it brought us to the entrance of a canon,
where we found water, and encamped. This word _canon_ is used by the
Spaniards to signify a defile or gorge in a creek or river, where high
rocks press in close, and make a narrow way, usually difficult, and
often impossible to be passed.

In the morning we found that we had a very poor camping-ground--a
swampy, salty spot, with a little long, unwholesome grass; and the
water, which rose in springs, being useful only to wet the mouth, but
entirely too salt to drink. All around was sand and rocks, and
skeletons of horses which had not been able to find support for their
lives. As we were about to start, we found, at the distance of a few
hundred yards, among the hills to the southward, a spring of tolerably
good water, which was a relief to ourselves; but the place was too poor
to remain long, and therefore we continued on this morning. On the
creek were thickets of _spirolobium odoratum_ (acacia) in bloom, and
very fragrant.

Passing through the canon, we entered another sandy basin, through
which the dry stream-bed continued its north-westerly course, in which
direction appeared a high snowy mountain.

We traveled through a barren district, where a heavy gale was blowing
about the loose sand, and, after a ride of eight miles, reached a large
creek of salt and bitter water, running in a westerly direction, to
receive the stream-bed we had left. It is called by the Spaniards
_Amargosa_--the bitter-water of the desert. Where we struck it, the
stream bends; and we continued in a northerly course up the ravine of
its valley, passing on the way a fork from the right, near which
occurred a bed of plants, consisting of a remarkable new genus of
_cruciferæ_.

Gradually ascending, the ravine opened into a green valley, where, at
the foot of the mountain, were springs of excellent water. We encamped
among groves of the new _acacia_, and there was an abundance of good
grass for the animals.

This was the best camping-ground we had seen since we struck the
Spanish trail. The day's journey was about twelve miles.

29th.--To-day we had to reach the _Archilette_, distant seven miles,
where the Mexican party had been attacked, and, leaving our encampment
early, we traversed a part of the desert the most sterile and repulsive
we had yet seen. Its prominent features were dark _sierras_, naked and
dry; on the plains a few straggling shrubs--among them, cactus of
several varieties. Fuentes pointed out one called by the Spaniards
_bisnada_, which has a juicy pulp, slightly acid, and is eaten by the
traveler to allay thirst. Our course was generally north; and, after
crossing an intervening ridge, we descended into a sandy plain, or
basin, in the middle of which was the grassy spot, with its springs and
willow bushes, which constitutes a camping-place in the desert, and is
called the _Archilette_. The dead silence of the place was ominous;
and, galloping rapidly up, we found only the corpses of the two men:
every thing else was gone. They were naked, mutilated, and pierced with
arrows. Hernandez had evidently fought, and with desperation. He lay in
advance of the willow half-faced tent, which sheltered his family, as
if he had come out to meet danger, and to repulse it from that asylum.
One of his hands, and both his legs, had been cut off. Giacome, who was
a large and strong-looking man, was lying in one of the willow
shelters, pierced with arrows.

Of the women no trace could be found, and it was evident they had been
carried off captive. A little lap-dog, which had belonged to Pablo's
mother, remained with the dead bodies, and was frantic with joy at
seeing Pablo; he, poor child, was frantic with grief, and filled the
air with lamentations for his father and mother. _Mi Padre! Mi
Madre!_--was his incessant cry. When we beheld this pitiable sight, and
pictured to ourselves the fate of the two women, carried off by savages
so brutal and so loathsome, all compunction for the scalped-alive
Indian ceased; and we rejoiced that Carson and Godey had been able to
give so useful a lesson to these American Arabs who lie in wait to
murder and plunder the innocent traveler.

We were all too much affected by the sad feelings which the place
inspired, to remain an unnecessary moment. The night we were obliged to
pass there. Early in the morning we left it, having first written a
brief account of what had happened, and put it in the cleft of a pole
planted at the spring, that the approaching caravan might learn the
fate of their friends. In commemoration of the event, we called the
place _Ague de Hernandez_--Hernandez's spring. By observation, its
latitude was 35° 51' 21".

30th.--We continued our journey over a district similar to that of the
day before. From the sandy basin, in which was the spring, we entered
another basin of the same character, surrounded everywhere by
mountains. Before us stretched a high range, rising still higher to the
left, and terminating in a snowy mountain.

After a day's march of 24 miles, we reached at evening the bed of a
stream from which the water had disappeared, a little only remaining in
holes, which we increased by digging; and about a mile above, the
stream, not yet entirely sunk, was spread out over the sands, affording
a little water for the animals. The stream came out of the mountains on
the left, very slightly wooded with cottonwood, willow, and acacia, and
a few dwarf-oaks; and grass was nearly as scarce as water. A plant with
showy yellow flowers (_Stanleya integrifolia_) occurred abundantly at
intervals for the last two days, and _eriogonum inflatum_ was among the
characteristic plants.



MAY.


1st.--The air is rough, and overcoats pleasant. The sky is blue, and
the day bright. Our road was over a plain, towards the foot of the
mountain; _zygophyllum Californicum_, now in bloom, with a small yellow
flower, is characteristic of the country; and _cacti_ were very
abundant, and in rich fresh bloom, which wonderfully ornaments this
poor country. We encamped at a spring in the pass, which had been the
site of an old village. Here we found excellent grass, but very little
water. We dug out the old spring, and watered some of our animals. The
mountain here was wooded very slightly with the nut-pine, cedars, and a
dwarf species of oak; and among the shrubs were _Purshia tridentata,
artemisia_, and _ephedra occidentalis_. The numerous shrubs which
constitute the vegetation of the plains are now in bloom, with flowers
of white, yellow, red, and purple. The continual rocks, and want of
water and grass, began to be very hard on our mules and horses; but the
principal loss is occasioned by their crippled feet, the greater part
of those left being in excellent order, and scarcely a day passes
without some loss; and, one by one, Fuentes' horses are constantly
dropping behind. Whenever they give out, he dismounts and cuts off
their tails and manes, to make saddle-girths--the last advantage one
can gain from them.

The next day, in a short but rough ride of 12 miles, we crossed the
mountain; and, descending to a small valley plain, encamped at the foot
of the ridge, on the bed of a creek, and found good grass in sufficient
quantity, and abundance of water in holes. The ridge is extremely
rugged and broken, presenting on this side a continued precipice, and
probably affords very few passes. Many _digger_ tracks were seen around
us, but no Indians were visible.

3d.--After a day's journey of 18 miles, in a northeasterly direction,
we encamped in the midst of another very large basin, at a camping
ground called _las Vegas_--a term which the Spaniards use to signify
fertile or marshy plains, in contradistinction to _llanos_, which they
apply to dry and sterile plains. Two narrow streams of clear water,
four or five feet deep, gush suddenly, with a quick current, from two
singularly large springs; these, and other waters of the basin, pass
out in a gap to the eastward. The taste of the water is good, but
rather too warm to be agreeable; the temperature being 71° in the one,
and 73° in the other. They, however, afford a delightful bathing-place.

4th.--We started this morning earlier than usual, traveling in a
northeasterly direction across the plain. The new acacia (_spirolobium
odoratum_) has now become the characteristic tree of the country; it is
in bloom, and its blossoms are very fragrant. The day was still, and
the heat, which soon became very oppressive, appeared to bring out
strongly the refreshing scent of the zygophyllaceous shrubs and the
sweet perfume of the acacia. The snowy ridge we had just crossed looked
out conspicuously in the northwest. In about five hours' ride, we
crossed a gap in the surrounding ridge, and the appearance of skeletons
of horses very soon warned us that we were engaged in another dry
_jornada_, which proved the longest we had made in all our
journey--between fifty and sixty miles without a drop of water.

Travelers through countries affording water and timber can have no
conception of our intolerable thirst while journeying over the hot
yellow sands of this elevated country, where the heated air seems to be
entirely deprived of moisture. We ate occasionally the _bisnada_, and
moistened our mouths with the acid of the sour dock, (_rumex venosus_.)
Hourly expecting to find water, we continued to press on until towards
midnight, when, after a hard and uninterrupted march of 16 hours, our
wild mules began running ahead; and in a mile or two we came to a bold
running stream--so keen is the sense of that animal, in these desert
regions, in scenting at a distance this necessary of life.

According to the information we had received, Sevier river was a
tributary of the Colorado; and this, accordingly, should have been one
of its affluents. It proved to be the _Rio de los Angeles_, (river of
the Angels)--a branch of the _Rio Virgen_. (river of the Virgin.)

5th.--On account of our animals, it was necessary to remain to-day at
this place. Indians crowded numerously around us in the morning; and we
were obliged to keep arms in hand all day, to keep them out of the
camp. They began to surround the horses, which, for the convenience of
grass, we were guarding a little above, on the river. These were
immediately driven in, and kept close to the camp.

In the darkness of the night we had made a very bad encampment, our
fires being commanded by a rocky bluff within 50 yards; but,
notwithstanding, we had the river and small thickets of willows on the
other side. Several times during the day the camp was insulted by the
Indians; but, peace being our object, I kept simply on the defensive.
Some of the Indians were on the bottoms, and others haranguing us from
the bluffs; and they were scattered in every direction over the hills.
Their language being probably a dialect of the _Utah_, with the aid of
signs some of our people could comprehend them very well. They were the
same people who had murdered the Mexicans; and towards us their
disposition was evidently hostile, nor were we well disposed towards
them. They were barefooted, and nearly naked; their hair gathered up
into a knot behind; and with his bow, each man carried a quiver with
thirty or forty arrows partially drawn out. Besides these, each held in
his hand two or three arrows for instant service. Their arrows are
barbed with a very clear translucent stone, a species of opal, nearly
as hard as the diamond; and, shot from their long bow, are almost as
effective as a gunshot. In these Indians, I was forcibly struck by an
expression of countenance resembling that in a beast of prey; and all
their actions are those of wild animals. Joined to the restless motion
of the eye, there is a want of mind--an absence of thought--and an
action wholly by impulse, strongly expressed, and which constantly
recalls the similarity.

A man who appeared to be a chief, with two or three others forced
himself into the camp, bringing with him his arms, in spite of my
orders to the contrary. When shown our weapons, he bored his ear with
his fingers, and said he could not hear. "Why," said he, "there are
none of you." Counting the people around the camp, and including in the
number a mule that was being shod, he made out 22. "So many," said he,
showing the number, "and we--we are a great many;" and he pointed to
the hills and mountains round about. "If you have your arms," said he,
twanging his bow, "we have these." I had some difficulty in restraining
the people, particularly Carson, who felt an insult of this kind as
much as if it had been given by a more responsible being. "Don't say
that, old man," said he; "don't you say that--your life's in
danger"--speaking in good English; and probably the old man was nearer
to his end than he will be before he meets it.

Several animals had been necessarily left behind near the camp last
night; and early in the morning, before me Indians made their
appearance, several men were sent to bring them in. When I was
beginning to be uneasy at their absence, they returned with information
that they had been driven off from the trail by Indians; and, having
followed the tracks in a short distance, they found the animals cut up
and spread out upon bushes. In the evening I gave a fatigued horse to
some of the Indians for a feast; and the village which carried him off
refused to share with the others, who made loud complaints from the
rocks of the partial distribution. Many of these Indians had long
sticks, hooked at the end, which they use in hauling out lizards, and
other small animals, from their holes. During the day they occasionally
roasted and ate lizards at our fires. These belong to the people who
are generally known under the name of _Diggers_; and to these I have
more particularly had reference when occasionally speaking of a people
whose sole occupation is to procure food sufficient to support
existence. The formation here consists of fine yellow sandstone,
alternating with a coarse conglomerate, in which the stones are from
the size of ordinary gravel to six or eight inches in diameter. This is
the formation which renders the surface of the country so rocky, and
gives us now a road alternately of loose heavy sands and rolled stones,
which cripple the animals in a most extraordinary manner.

On the following morning we left the _Rio de los Angeles_, and
continued our way through the same desolate and revolting country,
where lizards were the only animal, and the tracks of the lizard eaters
the principal sign of human beings. After twenty miles' march through a
road of hills and heavy sands, we reached the most dreary river I have
ever seen--a deep rapid stream, almost a torrent, passing swiftly by,
and roaring against obstructions. The banks were wooded with willow,
acacia, and a frequent plant of the country already mentioned, (_Garrya
elliptica_,) growing in thickets, resembling willow, and bearing a
small pink flower. Crossing it we encamped on the left bank, where we
found a very little grass. Our three remaining steers, being entirely
given out, were killed here. By the boiling point, the elevation of the
river here is 4,060 feet; and latitude, by observation, 36°41' 33". The
stream was running towards the southwest, and appeared to come from a
snowy mountain in the north. It proved to be the _Rio Virgen_--a
tributary to the Colorado. Indians appeared in bands on the hills, but
did not come into camp. For several days we continued our journey up
the river, the bottoms of which were thickly overgrown with various
kinds of brush; and the sandy soil was absolutely covered with the
tracks of _Diggers_, who followed us stealthily, like a band of wolves;
and we had no opportunity to leave behind, even for a few hours, the
tired animals, in order that they might be brought into camp after a
little repose. A horse or mule, left behind, was taken off in a moment.
On the evening of the 8th, having traveled 28 miles up the river from
our first encampment on it, we encamped at a little grass-plat, where a
spring of cool water issued from the bluff. On the opposite side was a
grove of cottonwoods at the mouth of a fork, which here enters the
river. On either side the valley is bounded by ranges of mountains,
everywhere high, rocky, and broken. The caravan road was lost and
scattered in the sandy country, and we had been following an Indian
trail up the river. The hunters the next day were sent out to
reconnoitre, and in the mean time we moved about a mile farther up,
where we found a good little patch of grass. There being only
sufficient grass for the night, the horses were sent with a strong
guard in charge of Tabeau to a neighboring hollow, where they might
pasture during the day; and, to be ready in case the Indians should
make any attempt on the animals, several of the best horses were
picketed at the camp. In a few hours the hunters returned, having found
a convenient ford in the river, and discovered the Spanish trail on the
other side.

I had been engaged in arranging plants; and, fatigued with the heat of
the day, I fell asleep in the afternoon, and did not awake until
sundown. Presently Carson came to me, and reported that Tabeau, who
early in the day had left his post, and, without my knowledge, rode
back to the camp we had left, in search of a lame mule, had not
returned. While we were speaking, a smoke rose suddenly from the
cottonwood grove below, which plainly told us what had befallen him; it
was raised to inform the surrounding Indians that a blow had been
struck, and to tell them to be on their guard. Carson, with several men
well mounted, was instantly sent down the river, but returned in the
night without tidings of the missing man. They went to the camp we had
left, but neither he nor the mule was there. Searching down the river,
they found the tracks of the mule, evidently driven along by Indians,
whose tracks were on each side of those made by the animal. After going
several miles, they came to the mule itself, standing in some bushes,
mortally wounded in the side by an arrow, and left to die, that it
might be afterwards butchered for food. They also found, in another
place, as they were hunting about on the ground for Tabeau's tracks,
something that looked like a little puddle of blood, but which the
darkness prevented them from verifying. With these details they
returned to our camp, and their report saddened all our hearts.

10th.--This morning, as soon as there was light enough to follow
tracks, I set out myself, with Mr. Fitzpatrick and several men, in
search of Tabeau. We went to the spot where the appearance of puddled
blood had been seen; and this, we saw at once, had been the place where
he fell and died. Blood upon the leaves, and beaten-down bushes, showed
that he had got his wound about twenty paces from where he fell, and
that he had struggled for his life. He had probably been shot through
the lungs with an arrow. From the place where he lay and bled, it could
be seen that he had been dragged to the river bank, and thrown into it.
No vestige of what had belonged to him could be found, except a
fragment of his horse equipment. Horse, gun, clothes--all became the
prey of these Arabs of the New World.

Tabeau had been one of our best men, and his unhappy death spread a
gloom over our party. Men, who have gone through such dangers and
sufferings as we had seen, become like brothers, and feel each other's
loss. To defend and avenge each other, is the deep feeling of all. We
wished to avenge his death; but the condition of our horses,
languishing for grass and repose, forbade an expedition into unknown
mountains. We knew the tribe who had done the mischief--the same which
had been insulting our camp. They knew what they deserved, and had the
discretion to show themselves to us no more. The day before, they
infested our camp; now, not one appeared; nor did we ever afterwards
see but one who even belonged to the same tribe, and he at a distance.

Our camp was in a basin below a deep canon--a gap of two thousand feet
deep in the mountain--through which the _Rio Virgen_ passes, and where
no man or beast could follow it. The Spanish trail, which we had lost
in the sands of the basin, was on the opposite side of the river. We
crossed over to it, and followed it northwardly towards a gap which was
visible in the mountain. We approached it by a defile, rendered
difficult for our barefooted animals by the rocks strewed along it; and
here the country changed its character. From the time we entered the
desert, the mountains had been bald and rocky; here they began to be
wooded with cedar and pine, and clusters of trees gave shelter to
birds--a new and welcome sight--which could not have lived in the
desert we had passed.

Descending a long hollow, towards the narrow valley of a stream, we saw
before us a snowy mountain, far beyond which appeared another more
lofty still. Good bunch-grass began to appear on the hill-sides, and
here we found a singular variety of interesting shrubs. The changed
appearance of the country infused among our people a more lively
spirit, which was heightened by finding at evening a halting-place of
very good grass on the clear waters of the _Santa Clara_ fork of the
_Rio Virgen_.

11th.--The morning was cloudy and quite cool, with a shower of
rain--the first we have had since entering the desert, a period of 27
days--and we seem to have entered a different climate, with the usual
weather of the Rocky mountains. Our march to-day was very laborious,
over very broken ground, along the Santa Clara river; but then the
country is no longer so distressingly desolate. The stream is prettily
wooded with sweet cottonwood trees--some of them of large size; and on
the hills, where the nut-pine is often seen, a good and wholesome grass
occurs frequently. This cottonwood, which is now in fruit, is of a
different species from any in Michaux's Sylva. Heavy dark clouds
covered the sky in the evening and a cold wind sprang up, making fires
and overcoats comfortable.

12th.--A little above our encampment the river forked, and we continued
up the right-hand branch, gradually ascending towards the summit of the
mountain. As we rose towards the head of the creek, the snowy mountains
on our right showed out handsomely--high and rugged, with precipices,
and covered with snow for about two thousand feet from their summits
down. Our animals were somewhat repaid for their hard marches by an
excellent camping-ground on the summit of the ridge, which forms here
the dividing chain between the waters of the _Rio Virgen_, which goes
south to the Colorado, and those of Sevier river, flowing northwardly,
and belonging to the Great Basin. We considered ourselves as crossing
the rim of the basin; and, entering it at this point, we found here an
extensive mountain meadow, rich in bunch-grass, and fresh with numerous
springs of clear water, all refreshing and delightful to look upon. It
was, in fact, that _las Vegas de Santa Clara_, which had been so long
presented to us as the terminating point of the desert, and where the
annual caravan from California to New Mexico halted and recruited for
some weeks. It was a very suitable place to recover from the fatigue
and exhaustion of a month's suffering in the hot and sterile desert.
The meadow was about a mile wide, some ten miles long, bordered by
grassy hills and mountains--some of the latter rising two thousand
feet, and white with snow down to the level of the _vegas_. Its
elevation above the sea was 5,280 feet; latitude, by observation, 37°
28' 28", and its distance from where we first struck the Spanish trail
about 400 miles. Counting from the time we reached the desert, and
began to skirt, at our descent from Walker's Pass in the Sierra Nevada,
we had traveled 550 miles, occupying 27 days, in that inhospitable
region. In passing before the Great Caravan, we had the advantage of
finding more grass, but the disadvantage of finding also the marauding
savages, who had gathered down upon the trail, waiting the approach of
that prey. This greatly increased our labors, besides costing us the
life of an excellent man. We had to move all day in a state of watch,
and prepared for combat--scouts and flankers out, a front and rear
division of our men, and baggage-animals in the centre. At night, camp
duty was severe. Those who had toiled all day, had to guard, by turns,
the camp and the horses, all night. Frequently one-third of the whole
party were on guard at once; and nothing but this vigilance saved us
from attack. We were constantly dogged by bands, and even whole tribes
of marauders; and although Tabeau was killed, and our camp infested and
insulted by some, while swarms of them remained on the hills and
mountain-sides, there was manifestly a consultation and calculation
going on, to decide the question of attacking us. Having reached the
resting-place of the _Vegas de Santa Clara_, we had complete relief
from the heat and privations of the desert, and some relaxation from
the severity of camp duty. Some relaxation, and relaxation only--for
camp-guards, horse-guards, and scouts, are indispensable from the time
of leaving the frontiers of Missouri until we return to them.

After we left the _Vegas_, we had the gratification to be joined by the
famous hunter and trapper, Mr. Joseph Walker, whom I have before
mentioned, and who now became our guide. He had left California with
the great caravan; and perceiving, from the signs along the trail, that
there was a party of whites ahead, which he judged to be mine, he
detached himself from the caravan, with eight men, (Americans,) and ran
the gauntlet of the desert robbers, killing two, and getting some of
the horses wounded, and succeeded in overtaking us. Nothing but his
great knowledge of the country, great courage and presence of mind, and
good rifles, could have brought him safe from such a perilous
enterprise.

13th.--We remained one day at this noted place of rest and refreshment;
and, resuming our progress in a northwestwardly direction, we descended
into a broad valley, the water of which is tributary to Sevier lake.
The next day we came in sight of the Wahsatch range of mountains on the
right, white with snow, and here forming the southeast part of the
Great Basin. Sevier lake, upon the waters of which we now were,
belonged to the system of lakes in the eastern part of the Basin--of
which, the Great Salt lake, and its southern limb, the Utah lake, were
the principal--towards the region of which we were now approaching. We
traveled for several days in this direction, within the rim of the
Great Basin, crossing little streams which bore to the left for Sevier
lake; and plainly seeing, by the changed aspect of the country, that we
were entirely clear of the desert, and approaching the regions which
appertained to the system of the Rocky mountains. We met, in this
traverse, a few mounted Utah Indians, in advance of their main body,
watching the approach of the great caravan.

16th.--We reached a small salt lake, about seven miles long and one
broad, at the northern extremity of which we encamped for the night.
This little lake, which well merits its characteristic name, lies
immediately at the base of the Wah-satch range, and nearly opposite a
gap in that chain of mountains through which the Spanish trail passes;
and which, again falling upon the waters of the Colorado, and crossing
that river, proceeds over a mountainous country to Santa Fé.

17th.--After 440 miles of traveling on a trail, which served for a
road, we again found ourselves under the necessity of exploring a track
through the wilderness. The Spanish trail had borne off to the
southeast, crossing the Wah-satch range. Our course led to the
northeast, along the foot of that range, and leaving it on the right.
The mountain presented itself to us under the form of several ridges,
rising one above the other, rocky, and wooded with pine and cedar; the
last ridge covered with snow. Sevier river, flowing northwardly to the
lake of the same name, collects its principal waters from this section
of the Wah-satch chain. We had now entered a region of great pastoral
promise, abounding with fine streams, the rich bunch-grass, soil that
would produce wheat, and indigenous flax growing as if it had been
sown. Consistent with the general character of its bordering mountains,
this fertility of soil and vegetation does not extend far into the
Great Basin. Mr. Joseph Walker, our guide, and who has more knowledge
of these parts than any man I know, informed me that all the country to
the left was unknown to him, and that even the _Digger_ tribes, which
frequented Lake Sevier, could tell him nothing about it.

20th.--We met a band of Utah Indians, headed by a well-known chief, who
had obtained the American or English name of Walker, by which he is
quoted and well known. They were all mounted, armed with rifles, and
used their rifles well. The chief had a fusee, which he carried slung,
in addition to his rifle. They were journeying slowly towards the
Spanish trail, to levy their usual tribute upon the great California
caravan. They were robbers of a higher order than those of the desert.
They conducted their depredations with form, and under the color of
trade and toll, for passing through their country. Instead of attacking
and killing, they affect to purchase--taking the horses they like, and
giving something nominal in return. The chief was quite civil to me. He
was personally acquainted with his namesake, our guide, who made my
name known to him. He knew of my expedition of 1842; and, as tokens of
friendship, and proof that we had met, proposed an interchange of
presents. We had no great store to choose out of; so he gave me a
Mexican blanket, and I gave him a very fine one which I had obtained at
Vancouver.

23d.--We reached Sevier river--the main tributary of the lake of the
same name--which, deflecting from its northern course, here breaks from
the mountains to enter the lake. It was really a fine river, from eight
to twelve feet deep; and after searching in vain for a fordable place,
we made little boats (or rather rafts) out of bulrushes, and ferried
across. These rafts are readily made, and give a good conveyance across
a river. The rushes are bound in bundles, and tied hard; the bundles
are tied down upon poles, as close as they can be pressed, and
fashioned like a boat, in being broader in the middle and pointed at
the ends. The rushes, being tubular and jointed, are light and strong.
The raft swims well, and is shoved along by poles, or paddled, or
pushed and pulled by swimmers, or drawn by ropes. On this occasion, we
used ropes--one at each end--and rapidly drew our little float
backwards and forwards from shore to shore. The horses swam. At our
place of crossing, which was the most northern point of its bend, the
latitude was 39° 22' 19". The banks sustained the character for
fertility and vegetation which we had seen for some days. The name of
this river and lake was an indication of our approach to regions of
which our people had been the explorers. It was probably named after
some American trapper or hunter, and was the first American name we had
met with since leaving the Columbia river. From the Dalles to the point
where we turned across the Sierra Nevada, near 1,000 miles, we heard
Indian names, and the greater part of the distance none; from Nueva
Helvetia (Sacramento) to _las Vegas de Santa Clara_, about 1,000 more,
all were Spanish; from the Mississippi to the Pacific, French and
American or English were intermixed; and this prevalence of names
indicates the national character of the first explorers.

We had here the misfortune to lose one of our people, François Badeau,
who had been with me on both expeditions; during which he had always
been one of my most faithful and efficient men. He was killed in
drawing towards him a gun by the muzzle; the hammer being caught,
discharged the gun, driving the ball through his head. We buried him on
the banks of the river.

Crossing the next day a slight ridge along the river, we entered a
handsome mountain valley covered with fine grass, and directed our
course towards a high snowy peak, at the foot of which lay the Utah
lake. On our right was a bed of high mountains, their summits covered
with snow, constituting the dividing ridge between the Basin waters and
those of the Colorado. At noon we fell in with a party of Utah Indians
coming out of the mountain, and in the afternoon encamped on a
tributary to the lake, which is separated from the waters of the Sevier
by very slight dividing grounds.

Early the next day we came in sight of the lake; and, as we descended
to the broad bottoms of the Spanish fork, three horsemen were seen
galloping towards us, who proved to be Utah Indians--scouts from a
village, which was encamped near the mouth of the river. They were
armed with rifles, and their horses were in good condition. We encamped
near them, on the Spanish fork, which is one of the principal
tributaries to the lake. Finding the Indians troublesome, and desirous
to remain here a day, we removed the next morning farther down the lake
and encamped on a fertile bottom near the foot of the same mountainous
ridge which borders the Great Salt lake, and along which we had
journeyed the previous September. Here the principal plants in bloom
were two, which were remarkable as affording to the Snake Indians--the
one an abundant supply of food, and the other the most useful among the
applications which they use for wounds. These were the kooyah plant,
growing in fields of extraordinary luxuriance, and _convollaria
stellata_, which, from the experience of Mr. Walker, is the best
remedial plant known among these Indians. A few miles below us was
another village of Indians, from which we obtained some fish--among
them a few salmon trout, which were very much inferior in size to those
along the Californian mountains. The season for taking them had not yet
arrived; but the Indians were daily expecting them to come up out of
the lake.

We had now accomplished an object we had in view when leaving the
Dalles of the Columbia in November last: we had reached the Utah lake;
but by a route very different from the one we had intended, and without
sufficient time remaining to make the examinations which we desired. It
is a lake of note in this country, under the dominion of the Utahs, who
resort to it for fish. Its greatest breadth is about fifteen miles,
stretching far to the north, narrowing as it goes, and connecting with
the Great Salt lake. This is the report, which I believe to be correct;
but it is fresh water, while the other is not only salt, but a
saturated solution of salt; and here is a problem which requires to be
solved. It is almost entirely surrounded by mountains, walled on the
north and east by a high and snowy range, which supplies to it a fan of
tributary streams. Among these, the principal river is the
_Timpan-ogo_--signifying Rock river--a name which the rocky grandeur of
its scenery, remarkable even in this country of rugged mountains, has
obtained for it from the Indians. In the Utah language, _og-wah-be_,
the term for river, when coupled with other words in common
conversation, is usually abbreviated to _ogo; timpan_ signifying rock.
It is probable that this river furnished the name which on the older
maps has been generally applied to the Great Salt lake; but for this I
have preferred a name which will be regarded as highly characteristic,
restricting to the river the descriptive term Timpan-ogo, and leaving
for the lake into which it flows the name of the people who reside on
its shores, and by which it is known throughout the country.

The volume of water afforded by the Timpan-ogo is probably equal to
that of the Sevier river; and, at the time of our visit, there was only
one place in the lake-valley at which the Spanish fork was fordable. In
the cove of the mountains along its eastern shore, the lake is bordered
by a plain, where the soil is generally good, and in greater part
fertile; watered by a delta of prettily timbered streams. This would be
an excellent locality for stock-farms; it is generally covered with
good bunch-grass, and would abundantly produce the ordinary grains.

In arriving at the Utah lake, we had completed an immense circuit of
twelve degrees diameter north and south, and ten degrees east and west;
and found ourselves, in May, 1844, on the same sheet of water which we
had left in September, 1843. The Utah is the southern limb of the Great
Salt lake; and thus we had seen that remarkable sheet of water both at
its northern and southern extremity, and were able to fix its position
at these two points. The circuit which we had made, and which had cost
us eight months of time, and 3,500 miles of traveling, had given us a
view of Oregon and of North California from the Rocky mountains to the
Pacific ocean, and of the two principal streams which form bays or
harbors on the coast of that sea. Having completed this circuit, and
being now about to turn the back upon the Pacific slope of our
continent, and to recross the Rocky mountains, it is natural to look
back upon our footsteps, and take some brief view of the leading
features and general structure of the country we had traversed. These
are peculiar and striking, and differ essentially from the Atlantic
side of the country. The mountains all are higher, more numerous, and
more distinctly defined in their ranges and directions; and, what is so
contrary to the natural order of formations, one of these ranges, which
is near the coast, (the Sierra Nevada and the Coast Range,) presents
higher elevations and peaks than any which are to be found in the Rocky
mountains themselves. In our eight months' circuit, we were never out
of sight of snow; and the Sierra Nevada, where we crossed it, was near
2,000 feet higher than the South Pass in the Rocky mountains. In
height, these mountains greatly exceed those of the Atlantic side,
constantly presenting peaks which enter the region of eternal snow; and
some of them volcanic, and in a frequent state of activity. They are
seen at great distances, and guide the traveler in his course.

The course and elevation of these ranges give direction to the rivers
and character to the coast. No great river does, or can, take its rise
below the Cascade and Sierra Nevada range; the distance to the sea is
too short to admit of it. The rivers of the San Francisco bay, which
are the largest after the Columbia, are local to that bay, and lateral
to the coast, having their sources about on a line with the Dalles of
the Columbia, and running each in a valley of its own, between the
Coast range and the Cascade and Sierra Nevada range. The Columbia is
the only river which traverses the whole breadth of the country,
breaking through all the ranges, and entering the sea. Drawing its
waters from a section of ten degrees of latitude in the Rocky
mountains, which are collected into one stream by three main forks
(Lewis's, Clark's, and the North fork) near the centre of the Oregon
valley, this great river thence proceeds by a single channel to the
sea, while its three forks lead each to a pass in the mountains, which
opens the way into the interior of the continent. This fact in relation
to the rivers of this region, gives an immense value to the Columbia.
Its mouth is the only inlet and outlet to and from the sea: its three
forks lead to the passes in the mountains: it is, therefore, the only
line of communication between the Pacific and the interior of North
America; and all operations of war or commerce, of national or social
intercourse, must be conducted upon it. This gives it a value beyond
estimation, and would involve irreparable injury if lost. In this unity
and concentration of its waters, the Pacific side of our continent
differs entirely from the Atlantic side, where the waters of the
Alleghany mountains are dispersed into many rivers, having their
different entrances into the sea, and opening many lines of
communication with the interior.

The Pacific coast is equally different from that of the Atlantic. The
coast of the Atlantic is low and open, indented with numerous bays,
sounds, and river estuaries, accessible everywhere, and opening by many
channels into the heart of the country. The Pacific coast, on the
contrary, is high and compact, with few bays, and but one that opens
into the heart of the country. The immediate coast is what the seamen
call _iron-bound_. A little within, it is skirted by two successive
ranges of mountains, standing as ramparts between the sea and the
interior of the country; and to get through which there is but one
gate, and that narrow and easily defended. This structure of the coast,
backed by these two ranges of mountains, with its concentration and
unity of waters, gives to the country an immense military strength, and
will probably render Oregon the most impregnable country in the world.

Differing so much from the Atlantic side of our continent, in coast,
mountains, and rivers, the Pacific side differs from it in another most
rare and singular feature--that of the Great Interior Basin, of which I
have so often spoken, and the whole form and character of which I was
so anxious to ascertain. Its existence is vouched for by such of the
American traders and hunters as have some knowledge of that region; the
structure of the Sierra Nevada range of mountains requires it to be
there; and my own observations confirm it. Mr. Joseph Walker, who is so
well acquainted in these parts, informed me that, from the Great Salt
lake west, there was a succession of lakes and rivers which have no
outlet to the sea, nor any connection with the Columbia, or with the
Colorado of the Gulf of California. He described some of these lakes as
being large, with numerous streams, and even considerable rivers
falling into them. In fact, all concur in the general report of these
interior rivers and lakes; and, for want of understanding the force and
power of evaporation, which so soon establishes an equilibrium between
the loss and supply of waters, the fable of whirlpools and
subterraneous outlets has gained belief, as the only imaginable way of
carrying off the waters which have no visible discharge. The structure
of the country would require this formation of interior lakes; for the
waters which would collect between the Rocky mountains and the Sierra
Nevada, not being able to cross this formidable barrier, nor to get to
the Columbia or the Colorado, must naturally collect into reservoirs,
each of which would have its little system of streams and rivers to
supply it. This would be the natural effect; and what I saw went to
confirm it. The Great Salt lake is a formation of this kind, and quite
a large one; and having many streams, and one considerable river, 400
or 500 miles long, falling into it. This lake and river I saw and
examined myself; and also saw the Wah-satch and Bear River mountains,
which enclose the waters of the lake on the east, and constitute, in
that quarter, the rim of the Great Basin. Afterwards, along the eastern
base of the Sierra Nevada, where we traveled for 42 days, I saw the
line of lakes and rivers which lie at the foot of that Sierra; and
which Sierra is the western rim of the Basin. In going down Lewis's
fork and the main Columbia, I crossed only inferior streams coming in
from the left, such as could draw their water from a short distance
only; and I often saw the mountains at their heads white with
snow,--which, all accounts said, divided the waters of the _desert_
from those of the Columbia, and which could be no other than the range
of mountains which form the rim of the Basin on its northern side. And
in returning from California along the Spanish trail, as far as the
head of the Santa Clara fork of the Rio Virgen, I crossed only small
streams making their way south to the Colorado, or lost in sand, (as
the Mo-hah-ve;) while to the left, lofty mountains, their summits white
with snow, were often visible, and which must have turned water to the
north as well as to the south, and thus constituted, on this part, the
southern rim of the Basin. At the head of the Santa Clara fork, and in
the Vegas de Santa Clara, we crossed the ridge which parted the two
systems of waters. We entered the Basin at that point, and have
traveled in it ever since; having its southeastern rim (the Wah-satch
mountain) on the right, and crossing the streams which flow down into
it. The existence of the Basin is, therefore, an established fact in my
mind: its extent and contents are yet to be better ascertained. It
cannot be less than 400 or 500 miles each way, and must lie principally
in the Alta California; the demarcation latitude of 42° probably
cutting a segment from the north part of the rim. Of its interior, but
little is known. It is called a _desert_, and, from what I saw of it,
sterility may be its prominent characteristic; but where there is so
much water, there must be some _oasis_. The great river, and the great
lake, reported, may not be equal to the report; but where there is so
much snow, there must be streams; and where there is no outlet, there
must be lakes to hold the accumulated waters, or sands to swallow them
up. In this eastern part of the Basin, containing Sevier, Utah, and the
Great Salt lakes, and the rivers and creeks falling into them, we know
there is good soil and good grass, adapted to civilized settlements. In
the western part, on Salmon Trout river, and some other streams, the
same remark may be made.

The contents of this great Basin are yet to be examined. That it is
peopled, we know; but miserably and sparsely. From all that I heard and
saw, I should say that humanity here appeared in its lowest form, and
in its most elementary state. Dispersed in single families; without
fire-arms; eating seeds and insects; digging roots, (and hence their
name,)--such is the condition of the greater part. Others are a degree
higher, and live in communities upon some lake or river that supplies
fish, and from which they repulse the miserable _Digger_. The rabbit is
the largest animal known in this desert; its flesh affords a little
meat; and their bag-like covering is made of its skins. The wild sage
is their only wood, and here it is of extraordinary size--sometimes a
foot in diameter, and six or eight feet high. It serves for fuel, for
building material, for shelter to the rabbits, and for some sort of
covering for the feet and legs in cold weather. Such are the accounts
of the inhabitants and productions of the Great Basin; and which,
though imperfect, must have some foundation, and excite our desire to
know the whole.

The whole idea of such a desert, and such a people, is a novelty in our
country, and excites Asiatic, not American ideas. Interior basins, with
their own systems of lakes and rivers, and often sterile, are common
enough in Asia; people still in the elementary state of families,
living in deserts, with no other occupation than the mere animal search
for food, may still be seen in that ancient quarter of the globe; but
in America such things are new and strange, unknown and unsuspected,
and discredited when related. But I flatter myself that what is
discovered, though not enough to satisfy curiosity, is sufficient to
excite it, and that subsequent explorations will complete what has been
commenced.

This account of the Great Basin, it will be remembered, belongs to the
Alta California, and has no application to Oregon, whose capabilities
may justify a separate remark. Referring to my journal for particular
descriptions, and for sectional boundaries between good and bad
districts, I can only say, in general and comparative terms, that, in
that branch of agriculture which implies the cultivation of grains and
staple crops, it would be inferior to the Atlantic States, though many
parts are superior for wheat; while in the rearing of flocks and herds
it would claim a high place. Its grazing capabilities are great; and
even in the indigenous grass now there, an element of individual and
national wealth may be found. In fact, the valuable grasses begin
within one hundred and fifty miles of the Missouri frontier, and extend
to the Pacific ocean. East of the Rocky mountains, it is the short
curly grass, on which the buffalo delights to feed, (whence its name of
buffalo,) and which is still good when dry and apparently dead. West of
those mountains it is a larger growth, in clusters, and hence called
bunch-grass, and which has a second or fall growth. Plains and
mountains both exhibit them; and I have seen good pasturage at an
elevation of ten thousand feet. In this spontaneous product the trading
or traveling caravans can find subsistence for their animals; and in
military operations any number of cavalry may be moved, and any number
of cattle may be driven; and thus men and horses be supported on long
expeditions, and even in winter, in the sheltered situations.

Commercially, the value of the Oregon country must be great, washed as
it is by the North Pacific ocean--fronting Asia--producing many of the
elements of commerce--mild and healthy in its climate--and becoming, as
it naturally will, a thoroughfare for the East India and China trade.

Turning our faces once more eastward, on the morning of the 27th we
left the Utah lake, and continued for two days to ascend the Spanish
fork, which is dispersed in numerous branches among very rugged
mountains, which afford few passes, and render a familiar acquaintance
with them necessary to the traveler. The stream can scarcely be said to
have a valley, the mountains rising often abruptly from the water's
edge; but a good trail facilitated our traveling, and there were
frequent bottoms, covered with excellent grass. The streams are
prettily and variously wooded; and everywhere the mountain shows grass
and timber.

At our encampment on the evening of the 28th, near the head of one of
the branches we had ascended, strata of bituminous limestone were
displayed in an escarpment on the river bluffs, in which were contained
a variety of fossil shells of new species.

It will be remembered, that in crossing this ridge about 120 miles to
the northward in August last, strata of fossiliferous rock were
discovered, which have been referred to the oolitic period; it is
probable that these rocks also belong to the same formation.

A few miles from this encampment we reached the bed of the stream, and
crossing, by an open and easy pass, the dividing ridge which separates
the waters of the Great Basin from those of the Colorado, we reached
the head branches of one of its larger tributaries, which, from the
decided color of its waters, has received the name of White river. The
snows of the mountains were now beginning to melt, and all the little
rivulets were running by in rivers, and rapidly becoming difficult to
ford. Continuing a few miles up a branch of White river, we crossed a
dividing ridge between its waters and those of _Uintah_. The approach
to the pass, which is the best known to Mr. Walker, was somewhat
difficult for packs, and impracticable for wagons--all the streams
being shut in by narrow ravines, and the narrow trail along the steep
hill-sides allowing the passage of only one animal at a time. From the
summit we had a fine view of the snowy Bear River range, and there were
still remaining beds of snow on the cold sides of the hills near the
pass. We descended by a narrow ravine, in which was rapidly gathered a
little branch of the Uintah, and halted to noon about 1,500 feet below
the pass, at an elevation, by the boiling point, of 6,900 feet above
the sea.

The next day we descended along the river, and about noon reached a
point where three forks come together. Fording one of these with some
difficulty, we continued up the middle branch, which, from the color of
its waters, is named the Red river. The few passes, and extremely
rugged nature of the country, give to it great strength, and secure the
Utahs from the intrusion of their enemies. Crossing in the afternoon a
somewhat broken highland, covered in places with fine grasses, and with
cedar on the hill-sides, we encamped at evening on another tributary to
the _Uintah_, called the _Duchesne_ fork. The water was very clear, the
stream not being yet swollen by the melting snows, and we forded it
without any difficulty. It is a considerable branch, being spread out
by islands, the largest arm being about a hundred feet wide, and the
name it bears is probably that of some old French trapper.

The next day we continued down the river, which we were twice obliged
to cross; and, the water having risen during the night, it was almost
everywhere too deep to be forded. After traveling about sixteen miles,
we encamped again on the left bank.

I obtained here an occultation of _Scorpii_ at the dark limb of the
moon, which gives for the longitude of the place 112° 18' 30", and the
latitude 40° 18' 53".


JUNE.

1st.--We left to-day the Duchesne fork, and, after traversing a broken
country for about sixteen miles, arrived at noon at another
considerable branch, a river of great velocity, to which the trappers
have improperly given the name of Lake fork. The name applied to it by
the Indians signifies great swiftness, and is the same which they use
to express the speed of a racehorse. It is spread out in various
channels over several hundred yards, and is everywhere too deep and
swift to be forded. At this season of the year, there is an
uninterrupted noise from the large rocks which are rolled along the
bed. After infinite difficulty, and the delay of a day, we succeeded in
getting the stream bridged, and got over with the loss of one of our
animals. Continuing our route across a broken country, of which the
higher parts were rocky and timbered with cedar, and the lower parts
covered with good grass, we reached, on the afternoon of the 3d, the
Uintah fort, a trading-post belonging to Mr. A. Roubideau, on the
principal fork of the Uintah river. We found the stream nearly as rapid
and difficult as the Lake fork, divided into several channels, which
were too broad to be bridged. With the aid of guides from the fort, we
succeeded, with very great difficulty, in fording it, and encamped near
the fort, which is situated a short distance above the junction of two
branches which make the river.

By an immersion of the first satellite, (agreeing well with the result
of the occultation observed at the Duchesne fork,) the longitude of the
post is 109° 56' 42", the latitude 40° 27' 45".

It has a motley garrison of Canadian and Spanish _engagés_ and hunters,
with the usual number of Indian women. We obtained a small supply of
sugar and coffee, with some dried meat and a cow, which was a very
acceptable change from the _pinoli_ on which we had subsisted for some
weeks past. I strengthened my party at this place by the addition of
Auguste Archambeau, an excellent voyageur and hunter, belonging to the
class of Carson and Godey.

On the morning of the 5th we left the fort [Footnote: This fort was
attacked and taken by a band of the Utah Indians since we passed it,
and the men of the garrison killed--the women carried off. Mr.
Roubideau, a trader of St. Louis, was absent, and so escaped the fate
of the rest.] and the Uintah river, and continued our road over a
broken country, which afforded, however, a rich addition to our
botanical collection; and, after a march of 25 miles, were again
checked by another stream, called Ashley's fork, where we were detained
until noon of the next day.

An immersion of the second satellite gave for this place a longitude of
109° 27' 07", the latitude, by observation, being 40° 28' 07".

In the afternoon of the next day we succeeded in finding a ford; and,
after traveling 15 miles, encamped high up on the mountain-side, where
we found excellent and abundant grass, which we had not hitherto seen.
A new species of _elymus_, which had a purgative and weakening effect
upon the animals, had occurred abundantly since leaving the fort. From
this point, by observation 7,300 feet above the sea, we had a view of
Colorado below, shut up amongst rugged mountains, and which is the
recipient of all the streams we had been crossing since we passed the
rim of the Great Basin at the head of the Spanish fork.

On the 7th we had a pleasant but long day's journey, through beautiful
little valleys and a high mountain country, arriving about evening at
the verge of a steep and rocky ravine, by which we descended to
"_Brown's hole_." This is a place well known to trappers in the
country, where the canons through which the Colorado runs expand into a
narrow but pretty valley, about 16 miles in length. The river was
several hundred yards in breadth, swollen to the top of its banks, near
to which it was in many places 15 to 20 feet deep. We repaired a
skin-boat which had been purchased at the fort, and, after a delay of a
day, reached the opposite banks with much less delay than had been
encountered on the Uintah waters. According to information, the lower
end of the valley is the most eastern part of the Colorado; and the
latitude of our encampment, which was opposite to the remains of an old
fort on the left bank of the river, was 40° 46' 27", and, by
observation, the elevation above the sea 5,150 feet. The bearing to the
entrance of the canon below was south 20° east. Here the river enters
between lofty precipices of red rock, and the country below is said to
assume a very rugged character, the river and its affluents passing
through canons which forbid all access to the water. This sheltered
little valley was formerly a favorite wintering ground for the
trappers, as it afforded them sufficient pasturage for their animals,
and the surrounding mountains are well stocked with game.

We surprised a flock of mountain sheep as we descended to the river,
and our hunters killed several. The bottoms of a small stream called
Vermilion creek, which enters the left bank of the river a short
distance below our encampment, were covered abundantly with _F.
vermicularis_, and other chenopodiaceous shrubs. From the lower end of
Brown's hole we issued by a remarkably dry canon, fifty or sixty yards
wide, and rising, as we advanced, to the height of six or eight hundred
feet. Issuing from this, and crossing a small green valley, we entered
another rent of the same nature, still narrower than the other, the
rocks on either side rising in nearly vertical precipices perhaps 1,500
feet in height. These places are mentioned, to give some idea of the
country lower down on the Colorado, to which the trappers usually apply
the name of a canon country. The canon opened upon a pond of water,
where we halted to noon. Several flocks of mountain sheep were here
among the rocks, which rung with volleys of small-arms. In the
afternoon we entered upon an ugly, barren, and broken country,
corresponding well with that we had traversed a few degrees north, on
the same side of the Colorado. The Vermilion creek afforded us brackish
water and indifferent grass for the night.

A few scattered cedar-trees were the only improvement of the country on
the following day; and at a little spring of bad water, where we halted
at noon, we had not even the shelter of these from the hot rays of the
sun. At night we encamped in a fine grove of cottonwood-trees, on the
banks of the Elk Head river, the principal fork of the Yampah river,
commonly called by the trappers the Bear river. We made here a very
strong fort, and formed the camp into vigilant guards. The country we
were now entering was constantly infested by war parties of the Sioux
and other Indians, and is among the most dangerous war-grounds in the
Rocky mountains; parties of whites having been repeatedly defeated on
this river.

On the 11th we continued up the river, which is a considerable stream,
fifty to a hundred yards in width, handsomely and continuously wooded
with groves of the narrow-leaved cottonwood, _populus angustifolia_;
with these were thickets of willow, and _grain du boeuf_. The
characteristic plant along the river is _F. vermicularis_, which
generally covers the bottoms; mingled with this are saline shrubs and
artemisia. The new variety of grass which we had seen on leaving the
Uintah fort had now disappeared. The country on either side was sandy
and poor, scantily wooded with cedars, but the river bottoms afforded
good pasture. Three antelopes were killed in the afternoon, and we
encamped a little below a branch of the river, called St. Vrain's fork.
A few miles above was the fort at which Frapp's party had been defeated
two years since; and we passed during the day a place where Carson had
been fired upon so close that one of the men had five bullets through
his body. Leaving this river the next morning, we took our way across
the hills, where every hollow had a spring of running water with good
grass.

Yesterday and to-day we had before our eyes the high mountains which
divide the Pacific from the Mississippi waters; and entering here among
the lower spurs or foot-hills of the range, the face of the country
began to improve with a magical rapidity. Not only the river bottoms,
but the hills were covered with grass; and among the usual varied flora
of the mountain region, these were occasionally blue with the showy
bloom of a _lupinus_. In the course of the morning we had the first
glad view of buffalo, and welcomed the appearance of two old bulls with
as much joy as if they had been messengers from home; and when we
descended to noon on St. Vrain's fork, an affluent of Green river, the
hunters brought in mountain sheep and the meat of two fat bulls. Fresh
entrails in the river showed us that there were Indians above, and at
evening, judging it unsafe to encamp in the bottoms, which were wooded
only with willow thickets, we ascended to the spurs above, and forted
strongly in a small aspen grove, near to which was a spring of cold
water. The hunters killed two fine cows near the camp. A band of elk
broke out of a neighboring grove; antelopes were running over the
hills; and on the opposite river-plains herds of buffalo were raising
clouds of dust. The country here appeared more variously stocked with
game than any part of the Rocky mountains we had visited; and its
abundance is owing to the excellent pasturage, and its dangerous
character as a war-ground.

13th.--There was snow here near our mountain camp, and the morning was
beautiful and cool. Leaving St. Vrain's fork, we took our way directly
towards the summit of the dividing ridge. The bottoms of the streams
and level places were wooded with aspens; and as we neared the summit,
we entered again the piny region. We had a delightful morning's ride,
the ground affording us an excellent bridle-path, and reached the
summit towards mid-day, at an elevation of 8,000 feet. With joy and
exultation we saw ourselves once more on the top of the Rocky
mountains, and beheld a little stream taking its course towards the
rising sun. It was an affluent of the Platte, called Pullam's fork, and
we descended to noon upon it. It is a pretty stream, twenty yards
broad, and bears the name of a trapper who, some years since, was
killed here by the _Gros Ventre_ Indians.

Issuing from the pines in the afternoon we saw spread out before us the
valley of the Platte, with the pass of the Medicine Butte beyond, and
some of the Sweet Water mountains; but a smoky haziness in the air
entirely obscured the Wind River chain.

We were now about two degrees south of the South Pass, and our course
home would have been eastwardly; but that would have taken us over
ground already examined, and therefore without the interest that would
excite curiosity. Southwardly there were objects worthy to be explored,
to wit: the approximation of the head-waters of three different
rivers--the Platte, the Arkansas, and the Grand River fork of the Rio
Colorado of the Gulf of California; the passages at the heads of these
rivers; and the three remarkable mountain coves, called Parks, in which
they took their rise. One of these Parks was, of course, on the western
side of the dividing ridge; and a visit to it would once more require
us to cross the summit of the Rocky mountains to the west, and then to
recross to the east, making in all, with the transit we had just
accomplished, three crossings of that mountain in this section of its
course. But no matter. The coves, the heads of the rivers, the
approximation of their waters, the practicability of the mountain
passes, and the locality of the three Parks, were all objects of
interest, and, although well known to hunters and trappers, were
unknown to science and to history. We therefore changed our course, and
turned up the valley of the Platte instead of going down it.

We crossed several small affluents, and again made a fortified camp in
a grove. The country had now became very beautiful--rich in water,
grass, and game; and to these were added the charm of scenery and
pleasant weather.

14th.--Our route this morning lay along the foot of the mountain, over
the long low spurs which sloped gradually down to the river, forming
the broad valley of the Platte. The country is beautifully watered. In
almost every hollow ran a clear, cool, mountain stream; and in the
course of the morning we crossed seventeen, several of them being large
creeks, forty to fifty feet wide, with a swift current, and tolerably
deep. These were variously wooded with groves of aspen and cottonwood,
with willow, cherry, and other shrubby trees. Buffalo, antelope, and
elk, were frequent during the day; and, in their abundance; the latter
sometimes reminded us slightly of the Sacramento valley.

We halted at noon on Potter's fork--a clear and swift stream, forty
yards wide, and in many places deep enough to swim our animals; and in
the evening encamped on a pretty stream, where there were several
beaver dams, and many trees recently cut down by the beaver. We gave to
this the name of Beaver Dam creek, as now they are becoming
sufficiently rare to distinguish by their names the streams on which
they are found. In this mountain they occurred more abundantly than
elsewhere in all our journey, in which their vestiges had been scarcely
seen.

The next day we continued our journey up the valley, the country
presenting much the same appearance, except that the grass was more
scanty on the ridges, over which was spread a scrubby growth of sage;
but still the bottoms of the creeks were broad, and afforded good
pasture-grounds. We had an animated chase after a grizzly bear this
morning, which we tried to lasso. Fuentes threw the lasso upon his
neck, but it slipped off, and he escaped into the dense thickets of the
creek, into which we did not like to venture. Our course in the
afternoon brought us to the main Platte river, here a handsome stream,
with a uniform breadth of seventy yards, except where widened by
frequent islands. It was apparently deep, with a moderate current, and
wooded with groves of large willow.

The valley narrowed as we ascended, and presently degenerated into a
gorge, through which the river passed as through a gate. We entered it,
and found ourselves in the New Park--a beautiful circular valley of
thirty miles diameter, walled in all round with snowy mountains, rich
with water and with grass, fringed with pine on the mountain sides
below the snow line, and a paradise to all grazing animals. The Indian
name for it signifies "cow lodge," of which our own may be considered a
translation; the enclosure, the grass, the water, and the herds of
buffalo roaming over it, naturally presenting the idea of a park. We
halted for the night just within the gate, and expected, as usual, to
see herds of buffalo; but an Arapahoe village had been before us, and
not one was to be seen. Latitude of the encampment 40° 52' 44".
Elevation by the boiling point 7,720 feet.

It is from this elevated cove, and from the gorges of the surrounding
mountains, and some lakes within their bosoms, that the Great Platte
river collects its first waters, and assumes its first form; and
certainly no river could ask a more beautiful origin.

16th.--In the morning we pursued our way through the Park, following a
principal branch of the Platte, and crossing, among many smaller ones,
a bold stream, scarcely fordable, called Lodge Pole fork, and which
issues from a lake in the mountains on the right, ten miles long. In
the evening we encamped on a small stream near the upper end of the
Park. Latitude of the camp 40° 33' 22".

17th.--We continued our way among the waters of the Park over the
foot-hills of the bordering mountains, where we found good pasturage,
and surprised and killed some buffalo. We fell into a broad and
excellent trail, made by buffalo, where a wagon would pass with ease;
and, in the course of the morning we crossed the summit of the Rocky
mountains, through a pass which was one of the most beautiful we had
ever seen. The trail led among the aspens, through open grounds, richly
covered with grass, and carried us over an elevation of about 9,000
feet above the level of the sea.

The country appeared to great advantage in the delightful summer
weather of the mountains, which we still continued to enjoy. Descending
from the pass, we found ourselves again on the western waters; and
halted to noon on the edge of another mountain valley, called the Old
Park, in which is formed Grand river, one of the principal branches of
the Colorado of California. We were now moving with some caution, as,
from the trail, we found the Arapahoe village had also passed this way;
as we were coming out of their enemy's country, and this was a
war-ground, we were desirous to avoid them. After a long afternoon's
march, we halted at night on a small creek, tributary to a main fork of
Grand river, which ran through this portion of the valley. The
appearance of the country in the Old Park is interesting, though of a
different character from the New; instead of being a comparative plain,
it is more or less broken into hills, and surrounded by the high
mountains, timbered on the lower parts with quaking asp and pines.

18th.--Our scouts, who were as usual ahead, made from a _butte_ this
morning the signal of Indians, and we rode up in time to meet a party
of about 30 Arapahoes. They were men and women going into the
hills--the men for game, the women for roots--and informed us that the
village was encamped a few miles above, on the main fork of Grand
river, which passes through the midst of the valley. I made them the
usual presents; but they appeared disposed to be unfriendly, and
galloped back at speed to the village. Knowing that we had trouble to
expect, I descended immediately into the bottoms of Grand river, which
were overflowed in places, the river being up, and made the best
encampment the ground afforded. We had no time to build a fort, but
found an open place among the willows, which was defended by the river
on one side and the overflowed bottoms on the other. We had scarcely
made our few preparations, when about 200 of them appeared on the verge
of the bottom, mounted, painted, and armed for war. We planted the
American flag between us; and a short parley ended in a truce, with
something more than the usual amount of presents. About 20 Sioux were
with them--one of them an old chief, who had always been friendly to
the whites. He informed me that, before coming down, a council had been
held at the village, in which the greater part had declared for
attacking us--we had come from their enemies, to whom we had doubtless
been carrying assistance in arms and ammunition; but his own party,
with some few of the Arapahoes who had seen us the previous year in the
plains, opposed it. It will be remembered that it is customary for this
people to attack the trading parties which they meet in this region,
considering all whom they meet on the western side of the mountains to
be their enemies. They deceived me into the belief that I should find a
ford at their village, and I could not avoid accompanying them; but put
several sloughs between us and their village, and forted strongly on
the banks of the river, which was everywhere rapid and deep, and over a
hundred yards in breadth. The camp was generally crowded with Indians;
and though the baggage was carefully watched and covered, a number of
things were stolen.

The next morning we descended the river for about eight miles, and
halted a short distance above a canon, through which Grand river issues
from the Park. Here it was smooth and deep, 150 yards in breadth, and
its elevation at this point 6,700 feet. A frame for the boat being very
soon made, our baggage was ferried across; the horses, in the mean
time, swimming over. A southern fork of Grand river here makes its
junction, nearly opposite to the branch by which we had entered the
valley, and up this we continued for about eight miles in the afternoon
and encamped in a bottom on the left bank, which afforded good grass.
At our encampment it was 70 to 90 yards in breadth, sometimes widened
by islands, and separated into several channels, with a very swift
current and bed of rolled rocks.

On the 20th we traveled up the left bank, with the prospect of a bad
road, the trail here taking the opposite side; but the stream was up,
and nowhere fordable. A piny ridge of mountains, with bare rocky peaks,
was on our right all the day, and a snowy mountain appeared ahead. We
crossed many foaming torrents with rocky beds, rushing down the river;
and in the evening made a strong fort in an aspen grove. The valley had
already become very narrow, shut up more closely in densely timbered
mountains, the pines sweeping down the verge of the bottoms. The _coq
de prairie (tetrao europhasianus)_ was occasionally seen among the sage.

We saw to-day the returning trail of an Arapahoe party which had been
sent from the village to look for Utahs in the Bayou Salade, (South
Park;) and it being probable that they would visit our camp with the
desire to return on horseback, we were more than usually on the alert.

Here the river diminished to 35 yards, and, notwithstanding the number
of affluents we had crossed, was still a large stream, dashing swiftly
by, with a great continuous fall, and not yet fordable. We had a
delightful ride along a good trail among the fragrant pines; and the
appearance of buffalo in great numbers indicated that there were
Indians in the Bayou Salade, (South Park,) by whom they were driven
out. We halted to noon under the shade of the pines, and the weather
was most delightful. The country was literally alive with buffalo; and
the continued echo of the hunters' rifles on the other side of the
river for a moment made me uneasy, thinking perhaps they were engaged
with Indians; but in a short time they came into camp with the meat of
seven fat cows.

During the earlier part of the day's ride, the river had been merely a
narrow ravine between high piny mountains, backed on both sides, but
particularly on the west, by a line of snowy ridges; but, after several
hours' ride, the stream opened out into a valley with pleasant bottoms.
In the afternoon the river forked into three apparently equal streams;
broad buffalo trails leading up the left hand, and the middle branch,
indicating good passes over the mountains; but up the right-hand
branch, (which, in the object of descending from the mountain by the
main head of the Arkansas, I was most desirous to follow,) there was no
sign of a buffalo trace. Apprehending from this reason, and the
character of the mountains, which are known to be extremely rugged,
that the right-hand branch led to no pass, I proceeded up the middle
branch, which formed a flat valley-bottom between timbered ridges on
the left and snowy mountains on the right, terminating in large
_buttes_ of naked rock. The trail was good, and the country
interesting; and at nightfall we encamped in an open place among the
pines, where we built a strong fort. The mountains exhibit their usual
varied growth of flowers, and at this place I noticed, among others,
_thermopsis montana_, whose bright yellow color makes it a showy plant.
This has been a characteristic in many parts of the country since
reaching the Uintah waters. With fields of iris were _aquilegia
coerulea_, violets, esparcette, and strawberries.

At dark we perceived a fire in the edge of the pines, on the opposite
side of the valley. We had evidently not been discovered, and, at the
report of a gun, and the blaze of fresh fuel which was heaped on our
fires, those of the strangers were instantly extinguished. In the
morning, they were found to be a party of six trappers, who had
ventured out among the mountains after beaver. They informed us that
two of the number with which they had started had been already killed
by the Indians--one of them but a few days since--by the Arapahoes we
had lately seen, who had found him alone at a camp on this river, and
carried off his traps and animals. As they were desirous to join us,
the hunters returned with them to the encampment, and we continued up
the valley, in which the stream rapidly diminished, breaking into small
tributaries--every hollow affording water. At our noon halt, the
hunters joined us with the trappers. While preparing to start from
their encampment, they found themselves suddenly surrounded by a party
of Arapahoes, who informed them that their scouts had discovered a
large Utah village in the Bayou Salade, (South Park,) and that a large
war-party, consisting of almost every man in the village, except those
who were too old to go to war, were going over to attack them. The main
body had ascended the left fork of the river, which afforded a better
pass than the branch we were on, and this party had followed our trail,
in order that we might add our force to theirs. Carson informed them
that we were too far ahead to turn back, but would join them in the
bayou; and the Indians went off apparently satisfied. By the
temperature of boiling water, our elevation here was 10,430 feet, and
still the pine forest continued, and grass was good.

In the afternoon we continued our road occasionally through open pines,
with a very gradual ascent. We surprised a herd of buffalo, enjoying
the shade at a small lake among the pines, and they made the dry
branches crack, as they broke through the woods. In a ride of about
three-quarters of an hour, and having ascended perhaps 800 feet, we
reached the _summit of the dividing ridge_, which would thus have an
estimated height of 11,200 feet. Here the river spreads itself into
small branches and springs, heading nearly in the summit of the ridge,
which is very narrow. Immediately below us was a green valley, through
which ran a stream; and a short distance opposite rose snowy mountains,
whose summits were formed into peaks of naked rock. We soon afterwards
satisfied ourselves that immediately beyond these mountains was the
main branch of the Arkansas river--most probably heading directly with
the little stream below us, which gathered its waters in the snowy
mountains near by. Descriptions of the rugged character of the
mountains around the head of the Arkansas, which their appearance amply
justified, deterred me from making any attempt to reach it, which would
have involved a greater length of time than now remained at my disposal.

In about a quarter of an hour, we descended from the summit of the Pass
into the creek below, our road having been very much controlled and
interrupted by the pines and springs on the mountain-side. Turning up
the stream, we encamped on a bottom of good grass near its head, which
gathers its waters in the dividing crest of the Rocky mountains, and,
according to the best information we could obtain, separated only by
the rocky wall of the ridge from the head of the main Arkansas river.
By the observations of the evening, the latitude of our encampment was
39° 20' 24", and south of which; therefore, is the head of the Arkansas
river. The stream on which we had encamped is the head of either the
_Fontaine-qui-bouit_, a branch of the Arkansas, or the remotest head of
the south fork of the Platte, as which you will find it laid down on
the map. But descending it only through a portion of its course, we
have not been able to settle this point satisfactorily. In the evening
a band of buffalo furnished a little excitement, by charging through
the camp.

On the following day we descended the stream by an excellent
buffalo-trail, along the open grassy bottom of the river. On our right,
the bayou was bordered by a mountainous range, crested with rocky and
naked peaks; and below, it had a beautiful park-like character of
pretty level prairies, interspersed among low spurs, wooded openly with
pine and quaking asp, contrasting well with the denser pines which
swept around on the mountain sides. Descending always the valley of the
stream, towards noon we descried a mounted party descending the point
of a spur, and, judging them to be Arapahoes--who, defeated or
victorious, were equally dangerous to us, and with whom a fight would
be inevitable--we hurried to post ourselves as strongly as possible on
some willow islands in the river. We had scarcely halted when they
arrived, proving to be a party of Utah women, who told us that on the
other side of  the ridge their village was fighting with the Arapahoes.
As soon as they had given us this information, they filled the air with
cries and lamentations, which made us understand that some of their
chiefs had been killed.

Extending along the river, directly ahead of us, was a low piny ridge,
leaving between it and the stream a small open bottom, on which the
Utahs had very injudiciously placed their village, which, according to
the women, numbered about 300 warriors. Advancing in the cover of the
pines, the Arapahoes, about daylight, charged into the village, driving
off a great number of their horses, and killing four men; among them,
the principal chief of the village. They drove the horses perhaps a
mile beyond the village, to the end of a hollow, where they had
previously forted, at the edge of the pines. Here the Utahs had
instantly attacked them in turn, and, according to the report of the
women, were getting rather the best of the day. The women pressed us
eagerly to join with their people, and would immediately have provided
us with the best horses at the village; but it was not for us to
interfere in such a conflict. Neither party were our friends, or under
our protection; and each was ready to prey upon us that could. But we
could not help feeling an unusual excitement at being within a few
hundred yards of a fight, in which 500 men were closely engaged, and
hearing the sharp cracks of their rifles. We were in a bad position,
and subject to be attacked in it. Either party which we might meet,
victorious or defeated, was certain to fall upon us; and, gearing up
immediately, we kept close along the pines of the ridge, having it
between us and the village, and keeping the scouts on the summit, to
give us notice of the approach of Indians. As we passed by the village,
which was immediately below us, horsemen were galloping to and fro, and
groups of people were gathered around those who were wounded and dead,
and who were being brought in from the field. We continued to press on,
and, crossing another fork, which came in from the right, after having
made fifteen miles from the village, fortified ourselves strongly in
the pines, a short distance from the river.

During the afternoon, Pike's Peak had been plainly in view before us,
and, from our encampment, bore N. 87° E. by compass. This was a
familiar object, and it had for us the face of an old friend. At its
foot were the springs, where we had spent a pleasant day in coming out.
Near it were the habitations of civilized men; and it overlooked the
broad smooth plains, which promised us an easy journey to our home.

The next day we left the river, which continued its course towards
Pike's Peak; and taking a southeasterly direction, in about ten miles
we crossed a gentle ridge, and, issuing from the South Park, found
ourselves involved among the broken spurs of the mountains which border
the great prairie plains. Although broken and extremely rugged, the
country was very interesting, being well watered by numerous affluents
to the Arkansas river, and covered with grass and a variety of trees.
The streams, which, in the upper part of their course, ran through
grassy and open hollows, after a few miles all descended into deep and
impracticable canons, through which they found their way to the
Arkansas valley. Here the buffalo trails we had followed were dispersed
among the hills, or crossed over into the more open valleys of other
streams.

During the day our road was fatiguing and difficult, reminding us much,
by its steep and rocky character, of our traveling the year before
among the Wind River mountains; but always at night we found some
grassy bottom, which afforded us a pleasant camp. In the deep seclusion
of these little streams, we found always an abundant pasturage, and a
wild luxuriance of plants and trees. Aspens and pines were the
prevailing timber: on the creeks oak was frequent; but the
narrow-leaved cottonwood, (_populus angustifolia_,) of unusually large
size, and seven or eight feet in circumference, was the principal tree.
With these were mingled a variety of shrubby trees, which aided to make
the ravines almost impenetrable.

After several days' laborious traveling, we succeeded in extricating
ourselves from the mountains, and on the morning of the 28th encamped
immediately at their foot, on a handsome tributary to the Arkansas
river. In the afternoon we descended the stream, winding our way along
the bottoms, which were densely wooded with oak, and in the evening
encamped near the main river. Continuing the next day our road along
the Arkansas, and meeting on the way a war-party of Arapahoe Indians,
(who had recently been committing some outrages at Bent's fort, killing
stock and driving off horses,) we arrived before sunset at the Pueblo,
near the mouth of the _Fontaine-qui-bouit_ river, where we had the
pleasure to find a number of our old acquaintances. The little
settlement appeared in a thriving condition; and in the interval of our
absence another had been established on the river, some thirty miles
above.

On the 30th of June our cavalcade moved rapidly down the Arkansas,
along the broad road which follows the river.



JULY.


On the 1st of July we arrived at Bent's fort, about 70 miles below the
mouth of the _Fontaine-qui-bouit_. As we emerged into view from the
groves on the river, we were saluted with a display of the national
flag, and repeated discharges from the guns of the fort, where we were
received by Mr. George Bent with a cordial welcome and a friendly
hospitality, in the enjoyment of which we spent several very agreeable
days. We were now in the region where our mountaineers were accustomed
to live; and all the dangers and difficulties of the road being
considered past, four of them, including Carson and Walker, remained at
the fort.

On the 5th we resumed our journey down the Arkansas, traveling along a
broad wagon-road, and encamped about 20 miles below the fort. On the
way we met a very large village of Sioux and Cheyenne Indians, who,
with the Arapahoes were returning from the crossing of the Arkansas,
where they had been to meet the Kioway and Camanche Indians. A few days
previous they had massacred a party of fifteen Delawares, whom they had
discovered in a fort on the Smoky Hill river, losing in the affair
several of their own people. They were desirous that we should bear a
pacific message to the Delawares on the frontier, from whom they
expected retaliation; and we passed through them without any difficulty
or delay. Dispersed over the plain in scattered bodies of horsemen, and
family groups of women and children, with dog-trains carrying baggage,
and long lines of pack-horses, their appearance was picturesque and
imposing.

Agreeably to your instructions, which required me to complete, as far
as practicable, our examinations of the Kansas, I left at this
encampment the Arkansas river, taking a northeasterly direction across
the elevated dividing grounds which separate that river from the waters
of the Platte. On the 7th we crossed a large stream, about forty yards
wide, and one or two feet deep, flowing with a lively current on a
sandy bed. The discolored and muddy appearance of the water indicated
that it proceeded from recent rains; and we are inclined to consider
this a branch of the Smoky Hill river, although, possibly, it may be
the Pawnee fork of the Arkansas. Beyond this stream we traveled over
high and level prairies, halting at small ponds and holes of water, and
using for our fires the _bois de vache_, the country being without
timber. On the evening of the 8th we encamped in a cottonwood grove on
the banks of a sandy stream-bed, where there was water in holes
sufficient for the camp. Here several hollows, or dry creeks with sandy
beds, met together, forming the head of a stream which afterwards
proved to be the Smoky Hill fork of the Kansas river.

The next morning, as we were leaving our encampment, a number of
Arapahoe Indians were discovered. They belonged to a war-party which
had scattered over the prairie in returning from an expedition against
the Pawnees.

As we traveled down the valley, water gathered rapidly in the sandy bed
from many little tributaries; and at evening it had become a handsome
stream, fifty to eighty feet in width, with a lively current in small
channels, the water being principally dispersed among quicksands.

Gradually enlarging, in a few days' march it became a river eighty
yards in breadth, wooded with occasional groves of cottonwood. Our road
was generally over level uplands bordering the river, which were
closely covered with a sward of buffalo-grass.

On the 10th we entered again the buffalo range, where we had found
these animals so abundant on our outward journey, and halted for a day
among numerous herds, in order to make a provision of meat sufficient
to carry us to the frontier.

A few days afterwards, we encamped, in a pleasant evening, on a high
river prairie, the stream being less than a hundred yards broad. During
the night we had a succession of thunder-storms, with heavy and
continuous rain, and towards morning the water suddenly burst over the
bank, flooding the bottoms and becoming a large river, five or six
hundred yards in breadth. The darkness of the night and incessant rain
had concealed from the guard the rise of the water; and the river broke
into the camp so suddenly, that the baggage was instantly covered, and
all our perishable collections almost entirely ruined, and the hard
labor of many months destroyed in a moment.

On the 17th we discovered a large village of Indians encamped at the
mouth of a handsomely wooded stream on the right bank of the river.
Readily inferring, from the nature of the encampment, that they were
Pawnee Indians, and confidently expecting good treatment from a people
who receive regularly an annuity from the government, we proceeded
directly to the village, where we found assembled nearly all the Pawnee
tribe, who were now returning from the crossing of the Arkansas, where
they had met the Kioway and Camanche Indians. We were received by them
with the unfriendly rudeness and characteristic insolence which they
never fail to display whenever they find an occasion for doing so with
impunity. The little that remained of our goods was distributed among
them, but proved entirely insufficient to satisfy their greedy
rapacity; and, after some delay, and considerable difficulty, we
succeeded in extricating ourselves from the village, and encamped on
the river about 15 miles below.

[Footnote: In a recent report to the department, from Major Wharton,
who visited the Pawnee villages with a military force some months
afterwards, it is stated that the Indians had intended to attack our
party during the night we remained at this encampment, but were
prevented by the interposition of the Pawnee Loups.]

The country through which we had been traveling since leaving the
Arkansas river, for a distance of 260 miles, presented to the eye only
a succession of far-stretching green prairies, covered with the
unbroken verdure of the buffalo-grass, and sparingly wooded along the
streams with straggling trees and occasional groves of cottonwood; but
here the country began perceptibly to change its character, becoming a
more fertile, wooded, and beautiful region, covered with a profusion of
grasses, and watered with innumerable little streams, which were wooded
with oak, large elms, and the usual varieties of timber common to the
lower course of the Kansas river.

As we advanced, the country steadily improved, gradually assimilating
itself in appearance to the northwestern part of the state of Missouri.
The beautiful sward of the buffalo-grass, which is regarded as the best
and most nutritious found on the prairies, appeared now only in
patches, being replaced by a longer and coarser grass, which covered
the face of the country luxuriantly. The difference in the character of
the grasses became suddenly evident in the weakened condition of our
animals, which began sensibly to fail as soon as we quitted the
buffalo-grass.

The river preserved a uniform breadth of eighty or a hundred yards,
with broad bottoms continuously timbered with large cottonwood-trees,
among which were interspersed a few other varieties.

While engaged in crossing one of the numerous creeks which frequently
impeded and checked our way, sometimes obliging us to ascend them for
several miles, one of the people (Alexis Ayot) was shot through the leg
by the accidental discharge of a rifle--a mortifying and painful
mischance, to be crippled for life by an accident, after having nearly
accomplished in safety a long and eventful journey. He was a young man
of remarkably good and cheerful temper, and had been among the useful
and efficient men of the party.

After having traveled directly along its banks for 290 miles, we left
the river, where it bore suddenly off in a northwesterly direction,
towards its junction with the Republican fork of the Kansas, distant
about 60 miles; and, continuing our easterly course, in about 20 miles
we entered the wagon-road from Santa Fé to Independence, and on the
last day of July encamped again at the little town of Kansas, on the
banks of the Missouri river.

During our protracted absence of 14 months, in the course of which we
had necessarily been exposed to great varieties of weather and of
climate, not one case of sickness had ever occurred among us.

Here ended our land journey; and the day following our arrival, we
found ourselves on board a steamboat rapidly gliding down the broad
Missouri. Our travel-worn animals had not been sold and dispersed over
the country to renewed labor, but were placed at good pasturage on the
frontier, and are now ready to do their part in the coming expedition.

On the 6th of August we arrived at St. Louis, where the party was
finally disbanded, a great number of the men having their homes in the
neighborhood.

Andreas Fuentes also remained here, having readily found employment for
the winter, and is one of the men engaged to accompany me the present
year.

Pablo Hernandez remains in the family of Senator Benton, where he is
well taken care of, and conciliates good-will by his docility,
intelligence, and amiability. General Almonte, the Mexican minister at
Washington, to whom he was of course made known, kindly offered to take
charge of him, and to carry him back to Mexico; but the boy preferred
to remain where he was until he got an education, for which he shows
equal ardor and aptitude.

Our Chinook Indian had his wish to see the whites fully gratified. He
accompanied me to Washington, and, after remaining several months at
the Columbia College, was sent by the Indian department to
Philadelphia, where, among other things, he learned to read and write
well, and speak the English language with some fluency. He will
accompany me in a few days to the frontier of Missouri, where he will
be sent with some one of the emigrant companies to the village at the
Dalles of the Columbia.

Very respectfully, your obedient servant, J. C. FREMONT, _Bt. Capt.
Topl. Engineers_.



*       *       *       *       *


GOLD REGIONS OF CALIFORNIA.


The "placers" or Gold Mines of California, are located in the valley of
the Sacramento, in the northern part of that new territory. They are
all on the public lands, with the exception of the portion belonging to
Messrs. Forbes and Sutter. The region which they embrace and which
lies, according to authentic reports, on both sides of the Sierra
Nevada, must be "larger than the State of New York." The mines, it is
estimated, are worth a thousand millions of dollars. The most reliable
information in regard to them may be found in the official reports
communicated to the authorities at Washington, by some of the American
officers who have visited the region. The following document is of this
nature. The author of it, Col. Mason, the military commander in
California, speaks, as will be seen, from observation, and the fullest
confidence may be placed in his account:--



HEADQUARTERS 10TH MILITARY DEPOT, Monterey, California, Aug. 17, 1848.

SIR:--I have the honor to inform you that, accompanied by Lieut. W. T.
Sherman, 3d artillery, A. A. A. General, I started on the 12th of June
last to make a tour through the northern part of California. My
principal purpose, however, was to visit the newly-discovered gold
"placer," in the Valley of the Sacramento. I had proceeded about forty
miles, when I was overtaken by an express, bringing me intelligence of
the arrival at Monterey of the U. S. ship Southampton, with important
letters from Com. Shubrick and Lieut. Col. Barton. I returned at once
to Monterey, and dispatched what business was most important, and on
the 17th resumed my journey. We reached San Francisco on the 20th, and
found that all, or nearly all, its male inhabitants had gone to the
mines. The town, which a few months before was so busy and thriving,
was then almost deserted.

On the evening of the 25th, the horses of the escort were crossed to
Sousoleto in a launch, and on the following day we resumed the journey
by way of Bodega and Sonoma to Sutter's fort, where we arrived on the
morning of the 2d of July. Along the whole route mills were lying idle,
fields of wheat were open to cattle and horses, houses vacant, and
farms going to waste. At Sutter's there was more life and business.
Launches were discharging their cargoes at the river, and carts were
hauling goods to the fort, where already were established several
stores, a hotel, &c. Captain Sutter had only two mechanics in his
employ, (a wagon-maker and a blacksmith,) whom he was then paying ten
dollars a day. Merchants pay him a monthly rent of $100 per room; and
while I was there, a two-story house in the fort was rented as a hotel
for $500 a month.

At the urgent solicitation of many gentlemen, I delayed there to
participate in the first public celebration of our national anniversary
at that fort, but on the 5th resumed the journey and proceeded
twenty-five miles up the American fork to a point on it now known as
the Lower Mines, or Mormon Diggings: The hill-sides were thickly strewn
with canvas tents and bush arbors; a store was erected, and several
boarding shanties in operation. The day was intensely hot, yet about
two hundred men were at work in the full glare of the sun, washing for
gold--some with tin pans, some with close-woven Indian baskets, but the
greater part had a rude machine, known as the cradle. This is on
rockers, six or eight feet long, open at the foot, and at its head has
a coarse grate, or sieve; the bottom is rounded, with small cleets
nailed across. Four men are required to work this machine: one digs the
ground in the bank close by the stream; another carries it to the
cradle and empties it on the grate; a third gives a violent rocking
motion to the machine; while a fourth dashes on water from the stream
itself.

The sieve keeps the coarse stones from entering the cradle, the current
of water washes off the earthy matter, and the gravel is gradually
carried out at the foot of the machine, leaving the gold mixed with a
heavy fine black sand above the first cleets. The sand and gold mixed
together are then drawn off through auger holes into a pan below, are
dried in the sun, and afterwards separated by blowing off the sand. A
party of four men thus employed at the lower mines averaged $100 a day.
The Indians, and those who have nothing but pans or willow baskets,
gradually wash out the earth and separate the gravel by hand, leaving
nothing but the gold mixed with sand, which is separated in the manner
before described. The gold in the lower mines is in fine bright scales,
of which I send several specimens.

As we ascended the north branch of the American fork, the country
became more broken and mountainous, and at the saw-mill, 25 miles above
the lower washings, or 50 miles from Sutter's, the hills rise to about
a thousand feet above the level of the Sacramento plain. Here a species
of pine occurs which led to the discovery of the gold. Capt Sutter,
feeling the great want of lumber, contracted in September last with a
Mr. Marshall to build a saw-mill at that place. It was erected in the
course of the past winter and spring--a dam and race constructed; but
when the water was let on the wheel, the tail-race was found to be too
narrow to permit the water to escape with sufficient rapidity. Mr.
Marshall, to save labor, let the water directly into the race with a
strong current, so as to wash it wider and deeper. He effected his
purpose, and a large bed of mud and gravel was carried to the foot of
the race.

One day Mr. Marshall, as he was walking down the race to this deposit
of mud, observed some glittering particles at its upper edge; he
gathered a few, examined them, and became satisfied of their value. He
then went to the fort, told Capt. Sutter of his discovery, and they
agreed to keep it secret until a certain grist-mill of Sutter's was
finished. It, however, got out, and spread like magic. Remarkable
success attended the labors of the first explorers, and in a few weeks
hundreds of men were drawn thither. At the time of my visit, but little
over three months after the first discovery, it was estimated that
upwards of four thousand people were employed. At the mill there is a
fine deposit or bank of gravel, which the people respect as the
property of Captain Sutter, although he pretends to no right to it, and
would be perfectly satisfied with the simple promise of a pre-emption,
on account of the mill which he has built there at considerable cost.
Mr. Marshall was living near the mill, and informed me that many
persons were employed above and below him; that they used the same
machines at the lower washings, and that their success was about the
same--ranging from one to three ounces of gold per man daily. This
gold, too, is in scales a little coarser than those of the lower mines.

From the mill Mr. Marshall guided me up the mountain on the opposite or
north bank of the south fork, where, in the bed of small streams or
ravines, now dry, a great deal of coarse gold has been found. I there
saw several parties at work, all of whom were doing very well; a great
many specimens were shown me, some as heavy as four or five ounces in
weight, and I send three pieces labelled No. 5, presented by a Mr.
Spence. You will perceive that some of the specimens accompanying this,
hold mechanically pieces of quartz; that the surface is rough and
evidently moulded in the crevice of a rock. This gold cannot have been
carried far by water, but must have remained near where it was first
deposited from the rock that once bound it. I inquired of many people
if they had encountered the metal in its matrix, but in every instance
they said they had not, but that the gold was invariably mixed with
washed gravel or lodged in the crevices of other rocks. All bore
testimony that they had found gold in greater or less quantities in the
numerous small gullies or ravines that occur in that mountainous region.

On the 7th of July I left the mill, and crossed to a stream emptying
into the American fork, three or four miles below the saw mill. I
struck this stream (now known as Weber's creek) at the washings of
Sunol & Co. They had about thirty Indians employed, whom they payed in
merchandise. They were getting gold of a character similar to that
found on the main fork, and doubtless in sufficient quantities to
satisfy them. I send you a small specimen, presented by this company,
of their gold. From this point we proceeded up the stream about eight
miles, where we found a great many people and Indians--some engaged in
the bed of the stream, and others in the small side valleys that put
into it. These latter are exceedingly rich, and two ounces were
considered an ordinary yield for a day's work. A small gutter, not more
than a hundred yards long by four feet wide and two or three feet deep,
was pointed out to me as the one where two men--William Daly and Parry
McCoon--had, a short time before, obtained 17,000 dollars worth of
gold. Capt. Weber informed me that he knew that these two men had
employed four white men and about a hundred Indians, and that at the
end of one week's work, they paid off their party, and had left $10,000
worth of this gold. Another small ravine was shown me, from which had
been taken upwards of $12,000 worth of gold. Hundreds of similar
ravines to all appearances are as yet untouched. I could not have
credited these reports had I not seen, in the abundance of the precious
metal, evidence of their truth.

Mr. Neligh, an agent of Commodore Stockton, had been at work about
three weeks in the neighborhood, and showed me in bags and bottles over
$2,000 worth of gold; and Mr. Lyman, a gentleman of education and
worthy of every credit, said he had been engaged with four others, with
a machine, on the American fork, just below Sutter's mill; that they
worked eight days, and that his share was at the rate of $50 a day; but
hearing that others were doing better at Weber's place they had removed
there, and were then on the point of resuming operations. I might tell
of hundreds of similar instances; but to illustrate how plentiful the
gold was in the pockets of common laborers, I will mention a simple
occurrence which took place in my presence when I was at Weber's store.
This store was nothing but an arbor of bushes, under which he had
exposed for sale goods and groceries suited to his customers. A man
came in, picked up a box of Seidlitz powders and asked the price.
Captain Weber told him it was not for sale. The man offered an ounce of
gold, but Capt. Weber told it only cost fifty cents, and he did not
wish to sell it. The man then offered an ounce and a half, when Capt.
Weber _had_ to take it. The prices of all things are high, and yet
Indians, who before hardly knew what a breech cloth was, can now afford
to buy the most gaudy dresses.

The country on either side of Weber's creek is much broken up by hills,
and is intersected in every direction by small streams or ravines,
which contain more or less gold. Those that have been worked are barely
scratched; and although thousands of ounces have been carried away, I
do not consider that a serious impression has been made upon the whole.
Every day was developing new and richer deposits; and the only
impression seemed to be, that the metal would be found in such
abundance as seriously to depreciate in value.

On the 8th of July I returned to the lower mines, and on the following
day to Sutter's, where, on the 19th. I was making preparations for a
visit to the Feather, Yubah, and Bear rivers, when I received a letter
from Commander A. R. Long, United States Navy, who had just arrived at
San Francisco from Mazatlan, with a crew for the sloop-of-war Warren,
with orders to take that vessel to the squadron at La Paz. Capt. Long
wrote to me that the Mexican Congress had adjourned without ratifying
the treaty of peace, that he had letters from Commodore Jones, and that
his orders were to sail with the Warren on or before the 20th of July.
In consequence of this I determined to return to Monterey, and
accordingly arrived here on the 17th of July. Before leaving Sutter's I
satisfied myself that gold existed in the bed of the Feather river, in
the Yubah and Bear, and in many of the smaller streams that lie between
the latter and the American fork; also that it had been found in the
Cosummes to the south of the American fork. In each of these streams,
the gold is found in small scales, whereas in the intervening mountains
it occurs in coarser lumps.

Mr. Sinclair, whose rancho is three miles above Sutter's on the north
side of the American, employs about fifty Indians on the north fork,
not far from its junction with the main stream. He had been engaged
about five weeks when I saw him, and up to that time his Indians had
used simply closely woven willow baskets. His nett proceeds (which I
saw) were about $16,000 worth of gold. He showed me the proceeds of his
last week's work--fourteen pounds avoirdupois of clean-washed gold.

The principal store at Sutter's Fort, that of Brannan & Co., had
received in payment for goods $36,000 (worth of this gold) from the 1st
of May to the 10th of July. Other merchants had also made extensive
sales. Large quantities of goods were daily sent forward to the mines,
as the Indians, heretofore so poor and degraded, have suddenly become
consumers of the luxuries of life. I before mentioned that the greater
part of the farmers and rancheros had abandoned their fields to go to
the mines. This is not the case with Capt. Sutter, who was carefully
gathering his wheat, estimated at 40,000 bushels. Flour is already
worth at Sutter's $36 a barrel, and soon will be fifty. Unless large
quantities of breadstuffs reach the country, much suffering will occur;
but as each man is now able to pay a large price, it is believed the
merchants will bring from Chili and Oregon a plentiful supply for the
coming winter.

The most moderate estimate I could obtain from men acquainted with the
subject, was, that upwards of four thousand men were working in the
gold district, of whom more than one-half were Indians; and that from
$30,000 to $50,000 worth of gold, if not more, was daily obtained. The
entire gold district, with very few exceptions of grants made some
years ago by the Mexican authorities, is on land belonging to the
United States. It was a matter of serious reflection with me, how I
could secure to the Government certain rents and fees for the privilege
of procuring this gold; but upon considering the large extent of
country, the character of the people engaged, and the small scattered
force at my command, I resolved not to interfere but to permit all to
work freely, unless broils and crimes should call for interferance. I
was surprised to learn that crime of any kind was very unfrequent, and
that no thefts or robberies had been committed in the gold district.

All live in tents, in bush arbors, or in the open air; and men have
frequently about their persons thousands of dollars worth of this gold,
and it was to me a matter of surprise that so peaceful and quiet state
of things should continue to exist. Conflicting claims to particular
spots of ground may cause collisions, but they will be rare, as the
extent of country is so great, and the gold so abundant, that for the
present there is room enough for all. Still the Government is entitled
to rents for this land, and immediate steps should be devised to
collect them, for the longer it is delayed the more difficult it will
become. One plan I would suggest is, to send out from the United States
surveyors with high salaries, bound to serve specified periods.

A superintendent to be appointed at Sutter's Fort, with power to grant
licenses to work a spot of ground--say 100 yards square--for one year,
at a rent of from 100 to 1,000 dollars, at his discretion; the
surveyors to measure the ground, and place the rentor in possession.

A better plan, however, will be to have the district surveyed and sold
at public auction to the highest bidder, in small parcels--say from 20
to 40 acres. In either case, there will be many intruders, whom for
years it will be almost impossible to exclude.

The discovery of these vast deposits of gold has entirely changed the
character of Upper California. Its people, before engaged in
cultivating their small patches of ground, and guarding their herds of
cattle and, horses, have all gone to the mines, or are on their way
thither. Laborers of every trade have left their work benches, and
tradesmen their shops. Sailors desert their ships as fast as they
arrive on the coast, and several vessels have gone to sea with hardly
enough hands to spread a sail. Two or three are now at anchor in San
Francisco with no crew on board. Many desertions, too, have taken place
from the garrisons within the influence of these mines; twenty-six
soldiers have deserted from the post of Sonoma, twenty-four from that
of San Francisco, and twenty-four from Monterey. For a few days the
evil appeared so threatening, that great danger existed that the
garrisons would leave in a body; and I refer you to my orders of the
25th of July, to show the steps adopted to met this contingency. I
shall spare no exertions to apprehend and punish deserters, but I
believe no time in the history of our country has presented such
temptations to desert as now exist in California.

The danger of apprehension is small, and the prospect of high wages
certain; pay and bounties are trifles, as laboring men at the mines can
now earn in _one day_ more than double a soldier's pay and allowances
for a month, and even the pay of a lieutenant or captain cannot hire a
servant. A carpenter or mechanic would not listen to an offer of less
than fifteen or twenty dollars a day. Could any combination of affairs
try a man's fidelity more than this? I really think some extraordinary
mark of favor should be given to those soldiers who remain faithful to
their flag throughout this tempting crisis. No officer can now live in
California on his pay, money has so little value; the prices of
necessary articles of clothing and subsistence are so exorbitant and
labor so high, that to hire a cook or servant has become an
impossibility, save to those who are earning from thirty to fifty
dollars a day. This state of things cannot last for ever. Yet from the
geographical position of California, and the new character it has
assumed as a mining country, prices of labor will always be high, and
will hold out temptations to desert. I therefore have to report, if the
Government wish to prevent desertions here on the part of men, and to
secure zeal on the part of officers, their pay must be increased very
materially. Soldiers, both of the volunteers and regular service,
discharged in this country, should be permitted at once to locate their
land warrants in the gold district.

Many private letters have gone to the United States giving accounts of
the vast quantity of gold recently discovered, and it may be a matter
of surprise why I have made no report on this subject at an earlier
date. The reason is, that I could not bring myself to believe the
reports that I heard of the wealth of the gold district until I visited
it myself. I have no hesitation now in saying that there is more gold
in the country drained by the Sacramento and San Joaquin rivers than
will pay the cost of the present war with Mexico a hundred times over.
No capital is required to obtain this gold, as the laboring man wants
nothing but his pick and shovel and tin pan, with which to dig and wash
the gravel; and many frequently pick gold out of the crevices of rocks
with their butcher knives in pieces from one to six ounces.

Mr. Dye, a gentleman residing in Monterey, and worthy of every credit,
has just returned from Feather river. He tells me that the company to
which he belonged worked seven weeks and two days, with an average of
fifty Indians (washers) and that their gross product was 273 pounds of
gold. His share (one seventh,) after paying all expenses, is about
thirty-seven pounds, which he brought with him and exhibited in
Monterey. I see no laboring man from the mines who does not show his
two, three, or four pounds of gold. A soldier of the artillery company
returned here a few days ago from the mines, having been absent on
furlough twenty days. He made by trading and working during that time
$1500. During these twenty days he was traveling ten or eleven days,
leaving but a week, in which he made a sum of money greater than he
receives in pay, clothes, and rations during a whole enlistment of five
years. These statements appear incredible, but they are true.

Gold is also believed to exist on the eastern slope of the Sierra
Nevada; and when at the mines, I was informed by an intelligent Mormon,
that it had been found near the Great Salt lake by some of his
fraternity. Nearly all the Mormons are leaving California to go to the
Salt lake, and this they surely would not do unless they were sure of
finding gold there in the same abundance as they now do on the
Sacramento.

The gold "placer" near the mission of San Fernando has long been known,
but has been little wrought for want of water. This is a spur which
puts off from the Sierra Nevada, (see Fremont's map,) the same in which
the present mines occur. There is, therefore, every reason to believe,
that in the intervening spaces of 500 miles, (entirely unexplored,)
there must be many hidden and rich deposits. The "placer" gold is now
substituted as the currency of this country; in trade it passes freely
at $16 per ounce; as an article of commerce its value is not yet fixed.
The only purchase I made was of the specimen No. 7, which I got of Mr.
Neligh at $12 the ounce. That is about the present cash value in the
country, although it has been sold for less. The great demand for goods
and provisions made by sudden development of wealth, has increased the
amount of commerce at San Francisco very much, and it will continue to
increase.

I would recommend that a mint be established at some eligible point of
the Bay of San Francisco; and that machinery, and all the necessary
apparatus and workmen, be sent out by sea. These workmen must be bound
by high wages, and even bonds, to secure their faithful services, else
the whole plan may be frustrated by their going to the mines as soon as
they arrive in California. If this course be not adopted, gold to the
amount of many millions of dollars will pass yearly to other countries,
to enrich their merchants and capitalists. Before leaving the subject
of mines, I will mention that on my return from the Sacramento, I
touched at New Almoder, the quicksilver mine of Mr. Alexander Forbes,
Consul of Her Britannic Majesty at Tepic. This mine is in a spur of the
mountains, 1000 feet above the level of the Bay of San Francisco, and
is distant in a southern direction from the Puebla de San José about
twelve miles. The ore (cinnabar) occurs in a large vein dipping at a
strong angle to the horizon. Mexican miners are employed in working it,
by driving shafts and galleries about six feet by seven, following the
vein.

The fragments of rock and ore are removed on the backs of Indians, in
raw-hide sacks. The ore is then hauled in an ox wagon, from the mouth
of the mine down to a valley well supplied with wood and water, in
which the furnaces are situated. The furnaces are of the simplest
construction--exactly like a common bake-oven, in the crown of which is
inserted a whaler's frying-kettle; another inverted kettle forms the
lid. From a hole in the lid a small brick channel leads to an apartment
or chamber, in the bottom of which is inserted a small iron kettle. The
chamber has a chimney.

In the morning of each day the kettles are filled with the mineral
(broken in small pieces) mixed with lime; fire is then applied and kept
up all day. The mercury is volatilized, passes into the chamber, is
condensed on the sides and bottom of the chamber, and flows into the
pot prepared for it. No water is used to condense the mercury.

During a visit I made last spring, four such ovens were in operation,
and yielded in the two days I was there 656 pounds of quicksilver,
worth at Mazatlan $180 per pound. Mr. Walkinshaw, the gentleman now in
charge of this mine, tells me that the vein is improving, and that he
can afford to keep his people employed even in these extraordinary
times. The mine is very valuable of itself, and will become the more so
as mercury is extensively used in obtaining gold. It is not at present
used in California for that purpose, but will be at some future time.
When I was at this mine last spring, other parties were engaged in
searching for veins, but none have been discovered worth following up,
although the earth in that whole range of hills is highly discolored,
indicating the presence of this ore. I send several beautiful
specimens, properly labelled. The amount of quicksilver in Mr. Forbes'
vats on the 15th of July was about 2,500 pounds.

I inclose you herewith sketches of the country through which I passed,
indicating the position of the mines and the topography of the country
in the vicinity of those I visited.

Some of the specimens of gold accompanying this were presented for
transmission to the Department by the gentlemen named below. The
numbers on the topographical sketch corresponding to the labels of the
respective specimens, show from what part of the gold region they are
obtained.

1. Captain J. A. Sutter. 2. John Sinclair. 3. Wm. Glover, R. C. Kirby,
Ira Blanchard, Levi Fifield, Franklin H. Arynes, Mormon diggings. 4.
Charles Weber. 5. Robert Spence. 6. Sunol & Co. 7. Robert D. Neligh. 8.
C. E. Picket, American Fort Columa. 9. E. C. Kemble. 10. T. H. Green,
from San Fernando, near Los Angelos.
     A. 2 oz. purchased from Mr. Neligh.
     B. Sand found in washing gold, which contains small particles.
11. Captain Frisbie, Dry Diggings, Weber's Creek. 12. Consumnes. 13.
Consumnes, Hartwell's Ranch.

I have the honor to be your most ob't ser't, R. B. MASON, Col. 1st
Dragoons, Commanding. Brig. Gen. R. JONES, Adj. Gen. U. S. A.,
Washington, D. C.


[NOTE.--The original letter, of which this is a copy, was sent to its
address, in charge of Lieut. L. Loeser, 3d Artillery, bearer of
dispatches, who sailed in the schooner Lambayecana, from Monterey, Aug.
30, 1848, bound for Payta, Peru. Lieut. Loeser bears, in addition to
the specimens mentioned in the foregoing letter, a tea-caddy containing
two hundred and thirty ounces fifteen pennyweights and nine grains of
gold. This was purchased at San Francisco by my order, and is sent to
you as a fair sample of the gold obtained from the mines of the
Sacramento. It is a mixture, coming from the various parts of the gold
district.

R. B. MASON, Col. 1st Drag. Comd'g. HEADQUARTERS 10TH MIL. DEPARTMENT,
Monterey, (Cal.,) Sept. 10th, 1848.]



*       *       *       *       *


PURITY OF CALIFORNIA GOLD DUST.

The numerous analyses which have been made show that the gold dust of
California is remarkably pure. The editor of the Buffalo Commercial
Advertiser, under date of December 20th, 1848, says:--

"A small quantity of California gold was shown us this morning. It was
in grains, about the size and shape of flax seed. Altogether there was
half an ounce. It was received by a gentleman of this city, who, last
year, left a quantity of goods in California for sale on commission. A
few days ago he received advices that his goods had been sold, and the
proceeds remitted in gold dust to New York. The receipts from the mint
show its great purity. The weight before melting was 428 ounces; after
melting 417. Nett value, $7,685.49."

Gold is seldom found, in any parts of the earth, more than 22 carats
fine: and it will be seen by the following report lately made by an
experienced smelter and refiner, Mr. John Warwick, of New York city,
that the gold dust of California is as pure as that found in any part
of this country. Probably there is none in Europe purer:

"I have assayed the portion of gold dust, or metal, from California,
sent me, and the result shows that it is fully equal to any found in
our Southern gold mines.

I return you 103/4 grains out of the 12 which I have tested--the value
of which is 45 cents. It is 211/2 carats fine--within half a carat of
the quality of English sovereigns or American Eagles, and is almost
ready to go to the mint.

The finest gold metal we get is from Africa, which is 221/2 to 23
carats fine. In Virginia we have mines where the quality of the gold is
much inferior--some of it as low as 19 carats, and in Georgia the mines
produce it nearly 22 carats fine.

The gold of California which I have now assayed, is fully equal to that
of any, and much superior to some produced from the mines in our
Southern States."



*       *       *       *       *


PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY OF CALIFORNIA.

Whatever appertains to California, the new El Dorado of the southwest,
is interesting to Americans and indeed to the whole civilized world.
The following brief account, therefore, of its physical geography,
compiled from authentic sources and carefully condensed, will readily
receive the attention of the inquiring mind:

"Upper California extends, upon the Pacific, from the 32d parallel of
latitude, about seven hundred miles north-westward to Oregon, from
which it is divided, nearly in the course of the 42d parallel--that is
in the latitude of Boston--by a chain of highlands called the Snowy
Mountains; the Sierra Nevada of the Spaniards. Its boundaries on the
west are not, as yet, politically determined by the Mexican government;
nor do geographers agree with regard to natural limits in that
direction. By some, it is considered as embracing only the territory
between the Pacific and the summit of the mountains which border the
western side of the continent: others extend its limits to the
Colorado; while others include in it, and others again exclude from it,
the entire regions drained by that river. The only portion occupied by
Mexicans, or of which any distinct accounts have been obtained, is that
between the great chain of mountains and the ocean; the country east of
that ridge to the Colorado appears to be an uninhabitable desert.

"Northward from the Peninsula, or Lower California, the great
western-most chain of mountains continues nearly parallel with the
Pacific coast, to the 34th degree of latitude, under which rises Mount
San Bernardin, one of the highest peaks in California, about forty
miles from the ocean. Further north the coast turns more to the west,
and the space between it and the summit line of the mountains becomes
wider, so as to exceed eighty miles in some places; the intermediate
region being traversed by lines of hills, or smaller mountains,
connected with the main range. The principal of these inferior ridges
extends from Mount San Bernardin north-westward to its termination on
the south side of the entrance of the Bay of San Franciso, near the
38th degree of latitude, where it is called the San Bruno Mountains.
Between this range and the coast run the San Barbara Mountains,
terminating on the north at the Cape of Pines, on the south-west side
of the Bay of Monterey, near the latitude 361/2 degrees. North of the
San Bruno mountains is the Bolbones ridge, bordering the Bay of San
Francisco on the east; and still further in the same direction are
other and much higher lines of highlands, stretching from the great
chain and terminating in capes on the Pacific.

"The southern part of Upper California, between the Pacific and the
great westernmost chain of mountains, is very hot and dry, except
during a short time in winter. Further north the wet season increases
in length, and about the Bay of San Francisco the rains are almost
constant from November to April, the earth being moistened during the
remainder of the year by heavy dews and fogs. Snow and ice are
sometimes seen in the winter on the shores of the bay, but never
further south, except on the mountain tops. The whole of California is,
however, subject to long droughts." Heavy rains are of rare occurrence,
and two years without any is not unusual; notwithstanding which,
vegetation does not suffer to the extent that might be inferred,
because, in the first place, many small streams descend from the
mountain ranges, supplying the means of both natural and artificial
irrigation; and, next, that the country near the coast is favored with
a diurnal land and sea breeze; and, from the comparatively low
temperature of the sea, the latter is always in summer accompanied with
fogs, in the latter part of the night, and which are dissipated by the
morning's sun, but serve to moisten the pastures and nourish a somewhat
peculiar vegetation abounding in beautiful flowers.

"Among the valleys of Upper California are many streams, some of which
discharge large quantities of water in the rainy season; but no river
is known to flow through the maritime ridge of mountains from the
interior to the Pacific, except perhaps the Sacramento, falling into
the Bay of San Francisco, though several are thus represented on the
maps. The valleys thus watered afford abundant pasturage for cattle,
with which they are covered; California, however, contains but two
tracts of country capable of supporting large numbers of inhabitants,
which are that west of Mt. San Bernardin, about the 34th degree of
latitude, and that surrounding the Bay of San Francisco, and the lower
part of the Sacramento; and even in these, irrigation would be
indispensable to insure success in agriculture."

"The provincial terms of New Mexico, and of Upper and Lower California,
have been, and are yet, rather designations of indefinite tracts than
of real defined political sections. The Pacific ocean limits on the
west, and by treaty, N. lat. 42° on the north; but inland and
southward, it is in vain to seek any definite boundary. In order,
however, to give as distinct a view as the nature of the case will
admit, let us adopt the mouth of the Colorado and Gila, or the head of
the Gulf of California, as a point on the southern boundary of Upper
California. The point assumed coincides very nearly with N. lat. 32°
and, if adopted, would give to that country a breadth of ten degrees of
latitude or in round numbers 800 statute miles from south to north. As
already, stated, the Pacific Ocean bounds this country on the west, and
lat. 42° on the north. To separate it on the east from New Mexico, we
must assume the mountain chain of Sierra Madre, or Anahuac, which, in
this region, inclines but little from north to south: whilst the
Pacific coast extends in general course north-west and south-east.
These opposite outlines contract the southern side to about 500 miles,
and open the northern side to rather above 800 miles; giving a mean
breadth of 650 miles. The area, for all general purposes, may be safely
taken at 500,000 square miles. The general slope or declination of this
great region is westward, towards the Pacific and Gulf of California."

"The climate of the western slope of North America has a warmth ten
degrees at least higher than the eastern, upon similar latitude. The
cause of this difference is the course of prevailing winds in the
temperate zones of the earth, from the western points. Thus the winds
on the western side of the continent are from the ocean, and on the
eastern from the land.

"The soil is as variable as the face of the country. On the coast range
of hills there is little to invite the agriculturist, except in some
vales of no great extent. The hills are, however, admirably adapted for
raising herds and flocks, and are at present the feeding-grounds of
numerous deer, elk, &c., to which the short, sweet grass and wild oats
that are spread over them afford a plentiful supply of food. The valley
of the Sacramento, and that of San Juan, are the most fruitful parts of
California, particularly the latter, which is capable of producing
wheat, Indian corn, rye, oats, &c., with all the fruits of the
temperate, and many of the tropical climates. It likewise offers
pasture grounds for cattle. This region comprises a level plain, from
fifteen to twenty miles in width, extending from the Bay of San
Francisco, beyond the mission of that name, north and south. This may
be termed the garden of California; but although several small streams
and lakes serve to water it, yet in dry seasons or droughts, not only
the crops but the herbage also suffers extremely, and the cattle are
deprived of food." The most extensive portion of Upper California--the
inland plain between the California and the Colorado range of
mountains--is an arid waste, destitute of the requisites for supplying
the wants of man. This plain is a waste of sand, with a few detached
mountains (some of which rise to the region of perpetual snow,) whose
positions are unknown; from these flow small streams that are soon lost
in the sand. A few Indians are scattered over the plain, the most
miserable objects in creation."

The climate is very peculiar, the thermometer on the coast ranging as
high, on the average, in winter as in summer. Indeed, summer is really
the coldest and most disagreeable part of the year, owing to the
north-west winds which frequently prevail during that season. As you
recede from the coast, however, the climate undergoes a great change
for the better. At San Juan, thirty miles from the coast, is one of the
most delightful climates in the world. The two principal rivers in
Upper California are the Sacramento and the San Joaquim. There are,
however, many smaller streams flowing through the different valleys,
which serve, during the dry season, to irrigate the land. The only
navigable stream is the Sacramento.

Beside the bays and harbors of Monterey, Santa Barbara and San Pedro,
Upper California possesses the harbor of San Francisco, within a few
miles of the Gold Mines, and one of the largest and most magnificent
harbors in the world.

The yield of wheat, small grain, and vegetables, is said to be great,
and very remarkable, but, as agriculture cannot succeed in Upper
California, but by irrigation, it has hitherto happened that it has
been principally occupied as a pastoral country--as costing less labor
to rear cattle, for which it is only necessary to provide keepers, and
have them marked. The numerous animals which are there slaughtered for
little more than their hides and tallow, do not putrify and become
offensive as they would in other climates, but, as wood is not
everywhere as abundant as their bones, the last are sometimes used to
supply the place of the former, in the construction of garden fences &c.

"The area of Upper California is about 500,000 square miles, and the
population, exclusive of Indians scattered over this extent, as follows:

Californians descended from Spain,----------------- 4000 Americans from
United States,----------------------  360 English, Scotch, and
Irish,------------------------  300 European
Spaniards,--------------------------------   80 French and
Canadians,------------------------------   80 Germans, Italians,
Portugese, and Sandwich Islanders, 90
Mexicans,------------------------------------------   90
                                                    ____
Total---------------------------------------------- 5000

"Upper California is, on the whole, admirably fitted for colonization.
This province presents the greatest facilities for raising cattle, for
cultivating corn, plants, and for the grape; it might contain twenty
millions of inhabitants; and its ports are a point of necessary
communication for vessels going from China and Asia to the western
coasts of North America.

"It is beyond doubt, that so soon as an intelligent and laborious
population is established there, this country will occupy an elevated
rank in the commercial scale; it would form the _entrepôt_ where the
coasts of the great ocean would send their products, and would furnish
the greatest part of their subsistence in grains to the north-west, to
Mexico, to Central America, to Ecuador, to Peru, to the north coast of
Asia, and to many groups of Polynesia--such as the Sandwich isles, the
Marquesas, and Tahiti."

"The peninsula of Lower California, extending from Cape San Lucas to
the Bay of Todos Santos, in lat. 32° N., on the Pacific, and to the
mouth of the Colorado on the Gulf side, is a pile of volcanic debris
and scoriae. Much of the surface is still heated by subterranean fires.
No craters are in action; but hot springs of water and bitumen, and
frequent earthquakes, and the scorched face of the whole region,
demonstrate it to be a mere mass upheaved from the sea, and burned to
cinders. The range of mountains that comes up through Lower California,
runs on northwardly into Upper California, at an average distance of
sixty or seventy miles from the sea, till it falls away into low hills
south of the bay of San Francisco. This, also, is a volcanic range;
though not so strongly marked to that effect in the Upper as in the
Lower Province.

"Some portions of this range are lofty. That part lying east and
southeast of El Pueblo de los Angelos, is tipped with perpetual snows.
But the greater part of it presents a base covered up to more than half
of the whole elevation with pine and cedar forests; the remaining
height being composed of bare, dark, glistening rocks, lying in
confused masses, or turreted in the manner observed on the Black Hills
in the Great Prairie Wilderness---spires, towers, and battlements,
lifted up to heaven, among which the white feathery clouds of beautiful
days rest shining in the mellow sun.

"The Snowy Mountain range is perhaps the boldest and most peculiar of
the California highlands. Its western terminus is Cape Mendocino, a
bold snow-capped headland, bending over the Pacific in 40° north
latitude. Its western terminus is in the Wind River Mountains, latitude
42° N., about seven hundred miles from the sea. Its peculiarity
consists in what may be termed its confused geological character. Near
the sea its rocks are primitive, its strata regular. A hundred miles
from the sea where the President's range crosses it, everything is
fused--burned; and at the distance of seventy miles northeastwardly
from the Bay of San Francisco, a spur comes off with a lofty peak,
which pours out immense quantities of lava, and shoots up a flame so
broad and bright as to be seen at sea, and to produce distinct shadows
at eighty miles' distance. Here is an extensive tract of this range
which has been burned, and whose strata have been torn from their
natural positions; displaying an amalgamated mass of primitive rock _ex
loco_, mingled with various descriptions of volcanic remains. From this
point eastward, it is a broken irregular chain of peaks and rifted
collateral ranges, and spurs running off northwardly and southwardly,
some of which are primitive and others volcanic.

"Another range of mountains which deserves notice in this place, is
that which bounds the valley of the San Joaquim on the east. This is a
wide and towering range. It is in fact a continuation of the
President's range, and partakes very strongly of its volcanic
character. That part of it which lies eastwardly from the Bay of San
Francisco, is very broad and lofty. One of its peaks, Mount Jackson, as
it is called, is the highest in all the President's range. Mountains of
great size are piled around it, but they appear like molehills beside
that veteran mount. Its vast peak towers over them all several thousand
feet, a glittering cone of ice.

"All over the Californias, the traveler finds evidences of volcanic
action. Far in the interior, among the deserts; in the streams; in the
heights; in the plains; everywhere, are manifestations of the fact,
that the current of subterranean fire which crossed the Pacific,
throwing up that line of islands lying on the south of the Sea of
Kamschatka, and passed down the continent, upheaving the Oregon
territory, did also bring up from the bed of the ocean the Californias.

"The peninsula, or lower California, which extends from Cape San Lucas
in N. lat. 22° 48', to the Bay of Todos Santos in lat. 32° N., is a
pile of barren, volcanic mountains, with very few streams, and still
fewer spots of ground capable of sustaining vegetation. The territory
lying north and south of the Colorado of the west, and within the
boundaries of the Californias, is a howling desolation.

"From the highlands near the mouth of the Rio Colorado, a wild and
somewhat interesting scene opens. In the east appears a line of
mountains of a dark hue, stretching down the coast of the Gulf as far
as the eye can reach. These heights are generally destitute of trees;
but timber grows in some of the ravines. The general aspect, however,
is far from pleasing. There is such a vastness of monotonous
desolation; so dry, so blistered with volcanic fires; so forbidding to
the wants of thirsting and hungering men, that one gladly turns his eye
upon the water, the _Mar de Cortez_, the Gulf of California. The
Colorado, two and a half miles in width, rushes into this Gulf with
great force, lashing as it goes the small islands lying at its mouth,
and for many leagues around the waters of the Gulf are discolored by
its turbulent flood. On the west, sweep away the mountains of Lower
California. These also are a thirsty mass of burned rocks, so dry that
vegetation finds no resting-place among them.

"That province of Lower California varies from thirty to one hundred
and fifty miles in width, a superficial extent almost equal to that of
Great Britain; and yet on account of its barrenness, never will, from
the products of the soil, maintain five hundred thousand people in a
state of comfort, ordinarily found in the civilized condition. Every
few years tornadoes sweep over the country with such violence, and
bearing with them such floods of rain, that whatever of soil has been
in any manner previously formed, is swept into the sea. So that even
those little nooks among the mountains, where the inhabitants from time
to time make their fields, and task the vexed earth for a scanty
subsistence, are liable to be laid bare by the torrents. In case the
soil chance to be lodged in some other dell, before it reach the Ocean
or the Gulf, and the people follow it to its new location, they find
perhaps no water there and cannot cultivate it. Consequently they are
often driven by dreadful want to some other point in quest of
sustenance, where they may not find it, and perish among the parched
highlands. The mean range of temperature in the whole country in the
summer season is from 60° to 74° Fahrenheit. The rains fall in the
winter months; are very severe, and of short duration. During the
remainder of the year the air is dry and clear; and the sky more
beautiful than the imagination can conceive.

"The range of mountains occupying the whole interior of this country,
vary in height from one to five thousand feet above the level of the
sea. They are almost bare of all verdure, mere brown piles of
barrenness, sprinkled here and there with a cluster of briars, small
shrubs, or dwarf trees. Among the ridges are a few spots to which the
sweeping rains have spared a little soil. These, if watered by springs
or streams, are beautiful and productive. There are also a few places
near the coast which are well adapted to tillage and pasturage.

"But the principal difficulty with this region, is one common to all
countries of volcanic, origin,--a scarcity of water. The porousness of
the rocks allows it to pass under ground to the sea. Consequently one
finds few streams and springs in Lower California. From the Cape San
Lucas to the mouth of the Colorado, six hundred miles, there are only
two streams emptying into the Gulf. One of these is called San Josef
del Cabo. It passes through the plantations of the Mission bearing the
same name, and discharges itself into the bay of San Barnabas. The
other is the Mulege, which waters the Mission of Santa Rosalia, and
enters the Gulf in latitude 27° N. These are not navigable. The streams
on the ocean coast, also, are few and small. Some of them are large
enough to propel light machinery, or irrigate considerable tracts of
land, but none of them are navigable. In the interior are several large
springs, which send out abundant currents along the rocky beds of their
upper courses; but when they reach the loose sands and porous rocks of
the lower country, they sink and enter the sea through subterranean
channels. A great misfortune it is too, that the lands which border
those portions of these streams which run above the ground, consist of
barren rocks. Where springs, however, and arable land occur together,
immense fertility is the consequence. There is some variety of climate
on the coasts, which it may be well to mention. On the Pacific shore
the temperature is rendered delightfully balmy by the sea breezes, and
the humidity which they bring along with them. Fahrenheit's thermometer
ranges on this coast, during the summer, between fifty-eight and
seventy-one degrees. In the winter months, while the rains are falling,
it sinks as low as fifty degrees above zero. On the Gulf coast there is
a still greater variation. While at the Cape, the mercury stands
between sixty and seventy degrees, near the head of the Gulf it is down
to the freezing point.

"These isolated facts, in regard to the great territory under
consideration, will give the reader as perfect an idea of the surface
and agricultural capacities of Lower California as will be here needed.



*       *       *       *       *


DIFFERENT ROUTES TO CALIFORNIA.

There are four different routes to California from the United States.
One is from New York to Vera Cruz, thence across Mexico by the
_Diligencia_, to Acapulco on the Pacific, where all the northern bound
vessels touch. This route would be preferable to all others, were it
not for the fact that the road from Vera Cruz to Acapulco is infested
with robbers.

Another route is by steam around Cape Horn--a long voyage, though
perhaps the cheapest route. It should be performed in our winter, when
it is summer in the Southern Hemisphere and consequently warmer at Cape
Horn than at any other season of the year. The fare on this route by
steam is about $350. The time of performing the voyage is about 130
days.

Another route is by the Isthmus of Darien. The fare on this route is as
follows:

From New York to Chagres (by steam)---------- $150 From Chagres to
Panama, across the Isthmus---   20 From Panama to San
Francisco-----------------  250 From New York to Chagres (by sailing
vessel)-   80

The time of the voyage is as follows:--

From New York to Chagres----- 12 to 15 days. From Chagres to
Panama-------        2 " From Panama to San Francisco-       20 "

The following description of Chagres and Panama, will be found both
interesting and valuable to the traveler on this route.


THE TOWN OF CHAGRES,

as it is usually called, but in reality village, or collection of huts,
is, as is well known, situated at the mouth of the river Chagres, where
it empties itself into the Atlantic ocean.

It is but a small village, and the harbor is likewise small, though
secure. It is formed by the jutting out of a narrow neck of land, and
is defended by the castle, which is built on a high bluff on the other
side. The village itself, as I have before said, is merely a collection
of huts, and is situated in the midst of a swamp--at least the ground
is low, and the continual rains which prevail at Chagres, keep it in a
swampy condition. Chagres is inhabited by colored people, entirely,
with the exception of some few officials at the castle and in the
custom-house. Its population, (I speak, of course, of it previous to
the influx,) was probably not more than 500 in all, if so much.


ITS CLIMATE

is, without doubt, the most pestiferous for whites in the whole world.
The coast of Africa, which enjoys a dreadful reputation in this way, is
not so deadly in its climate as is Chagres. The thermometer ranges from
78° to 85° all the year, and it rains every day. Many a traveler who
has incautiously remained there for a few days and nights, has had
cause to remember Chagres; and many a gallant crew, who have entered
the harbor in full health, have, ere many days, found their final
resting place on the dank and malarious banks of the river. Bilious,
remittent, and congestive fever, in their most malignant forms, seem to
hover over Chagres, ever ready to pounce down on the stranger. Even the
acclimated resident of the tropics runs a great risk in staying any
time in Chagres; but the stranger fresh from the North and its
invigorating breezes, runs a most fearful one.


THE RIVER JOURNEY

is performed in canoes, propelled up the stream by means of poles.
There are two points at which one may land, viz: the villages of
Gorgona and Cruces. The distance from Chagres to the first named, is
about 45 or 50 miles--to the latter, some 50 or 55 miles. The traveler,
who for the first time in his life embarks on a South American river
like the Chagres, cannot fail to experience a singular depression of
spirits at the dark and sombre aspect of the scene. In the first place,
he finds himself in a canoe, so small that he is forced to lay quietly
in the very centre of the stern portion, in order to prevent it
upsetting. The palm leaf thatch (or _toldo_, as it is termed on the
river) over his portion of the boat, shuts out much of the view, while
his baggage, piled carefully amidships, and covered with oil cloths,
_encerrados_ as they are termed, is under the charge of his active
boatman, who, stripped to the buff, with long pole in hand, expertly
propels the boat up stream, with many a cry and strange exclamation.
The river itself is a dark, muddy, and rapid stream; in some parts
quite narrow, and again at other points it is from 300 to 500 yards
wide. Let no one fancy that it resembles the bright and cheerful rivers
which are met with here at the North. No pleasant villages adorn its
banks--no signs of civilization are seen on them, nothing but the
sombre primeval forest, which grows with all the luxury of the tropics
down to the very margin of its swampy banks.

A light canoe with two active boatmen and but one passenger in it, will
reach Cruces in ten or twelve hours, whilst a heavier one might require
thirty-six hours to accomplish the passage. The passenger must take his
provisions with him, as none are to be had on the river.

A doubloon ($16) was the lowest charge for a single passenger, and from
that up to two, three, and even four doubloons. As for taking our boats
from here, and rowing them up the river, I should think it would be a
hopeless attempt. Hardy boatmen from our southwestern States, who are
accustomed to a much similar mode of travel on their rivers, would
probably be able to accomplish it; but in that burning and unhealthy
climate, for young men fresh from the North, unacquainted with the
dangers of such navigation, and all unacclimated, to attempt such a
feat would be madness indeed.

Let us, however, suppose the journey completed, and our adventurer
safely arrived at

CRUCES

He may now congratulate himself on having achieved the most toilsome
part of his journey, and but twenty-one miles of land route intervene
between him and the glorious Pacific Ocean. Cruces is a small village,
situated on a plain, immediately on the banks of the river, which here
are high and sandy. Gorgona, the other landing place, is a few miles
below Cruces, and is likewise a small village, very similar to
Cruces--in fact, all South American villages resemble one another very
much. From these two points, both about the same distance from Panama,
there are roads to that city, which roads unite about nine miles from
it. Starting from either point he commences his

JOURNEY ACROSS THE ISTHMUS.

The usual method of performing it, is on horse or on mule-back, with
another mule to carry the baggage and a muleteer who acts as guide. The
road is a mere bridle path, and as the rains on the Isthmus are very
heavy, and there is more or less of them all the year round, the
mud-holes and swampy places to be crossed are very numerous. Those who,
at the North, talk gaily of a walk across the Isthmus, as if the road
were as plain and easy as some of our macadamized turnpikes, would
alter their tone a little, could they see the road as it is. As for
walking from Cruces to Panama, in case mules are scarce, the feat is by
no means impossible, provided the traveler arrives in Cruces in good
health, and has but little baggage. It might easily be done with the
assistance of a guide; but let no stranger, unacquainted with the
language and new to such countries, attempt it without a guide. Having,
then, fairly started from Cruces, either on horse or on foot, after a
toilsome journey of some eight or ten hours, the Savanna of Panama is
at last reached, and the sight of the broad and glittering Pacific
Ocean, and the white towers of the Cathedral of Panama, which are seen
at the distance of about four miles from the city, give the now weary
traveler assurance that his journey will shortly end; and another
hour's toil brings him to the suburbs of the famed


CITY OF PANAMA.

We will find, however, that with this, as with most other South
American cities,

"'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view, And clothes the mountain
with its azure hue."

The city of Panama is situated on the shores of the bay of that name,
and a most beautiful bay it is, too. What is the number of the present
population, I cannot say, as it is doubtless filled with strangers--it
formerly contained from 5000 to 7000 inhabitants, and was a quiet,
still city, where, during the day, nought but the sounds of the convent
bell and church bells disturbed the horses of the citizens in their
grazings in the public squares, which were all overgrown with grass.
The trade carried on consisted in importing dry goods from Jamaica, for
the supply of the Isthmenians, the neighboring produce of Veragua, the
Pearl Islands, the towns of Chiriqui, David, and their vicinities, and
the various little inland towns. Goods also were sent down to the ports
of Payta, in Peru, and Guayaquil, in the Ecuador. The returns made for
these goods, consisted in the produce of the Isthmus: such as gold
dust, hides, India rubber, pearl oyster shells, (from which the mother
of pearl of commerce is made,) sarsaparilla, &c. The climate is warm,
say from 80 to 85 degrees all the year round--the rainy season long and
severe. The nights in Panama, however, are much cooler than usual in
tropical climate.

The other route is the overland, by Independence. The details of this
route are given below by Mr. Edwin Bryant, the author of "What I saw in
California." They were communicated to the Louisville Courier in answer
to questions but to Mr. B. by the editor:

_First_--Which route by land is the best for the emigrant?

_Answer_--The route via Independence or St. Joseph, Missouri, to Fort
Daramie, South Pass, Fort Hall, the Sink of Mary's River, &c. &c. the
old route. Let no emigrant, carrying his family with him, deviate from
it, or imagine to himself that he can find a better road. This road is
the best that has yet been discovered, and to the Bay of San Francisco
and the gold regions it is much the shortest. The Indians, moreover, on
this route, have, up to the present time been so friendly as to commit
no acts of hostility on the emigrants. The trail is plain and good,
where there are no physical obstructions and the emigrant, by taking
this route, will certainly reach his destination in good season, and
without disaster. From our information we would most earnestly advise
all emigrants to take this trail, without deviation, if they would
avoid the fatal calamities which almost invariably have attended those
who have undertaken to explore new routes.

_Second_--What kind of wagon and team is preferable?

_Answer_--The lightest wagon that can be constructed of sufficient
strength to carry 2,500 pounds weight, as the vehicle most desirable.
No wagon should be loaded over this weight, for if it is, it will be
certain to stall in the muddy sloughs and crossings on the prairie in
the first part of the journey. This wagon can be hauled by three or
four yokes of oxen or six mules. Oxen are usually employed by the
immigrants for hauling their wagons. They travel about fifteen miles
per day, and all things considered, are perhaps equal to mules for this
service, although they cannot travel so fast. They are, however, less
expensive, and there is not so much danger of their starving and of
being stolen by the Indians.

Pack-mules can only be employed by parties of men. It would be very
difficult to transport a party of women and children on pack-mules with
the provisions, clothing and baggage necessary to their comfort. A
party of men, however, with pack-mules, can make the journey in less
time by one month than it can be done in wagons, carrying with them,
however, nothing more than their provisions clothing and ammunition.

For parties of men going out, it would be well to haul their wagons,
provisions, &c., as far as Fort Laramie or Fort Hall by mules, carrying
with them pack-saddles and _alforgases_, or large saddle-bags, adapted
to the pack saddle, with ropes for packing, &c., when, if they saw
proper, they could dispose of their wagons for Indian ponies, and pack
into California, gaining perhaps two or three weeks' time.

_Third_--What provisions are necessary to a man?

_Answer_-- The provisions actually necessary per man are as follows.

     Of Flour, .....150 lbs.   |     Of Bacon, ..... 150 lbs.
        Coffee,..... 25 "      |        Sugar, ...... 30 "

Added to these, the main items, there should be a small quantity of
rice, fifty or seventy-five pounds of crackers, dried peaches, &c., and
a keg of lard, with salt, pepper, &c., with such other luxuries of
light weight as the person out-fitting chooses to purchase. He will
think of them before he starts.

_Fourth_--What arms and ammunition are necessary?

_Answer_--Every man should be provided with a good rifle, and if
convenient with a pair of pistols, five pounds of powder and ten pounds
of lead. A revolving belt pistol may be found useful.

With the wagon there should be carried such carpenter's tools as a
hand-saw, auger, gimblet, chisel, shaving-knife, &c., an axe, hammer,
and hatchet. The last weapon every man should have in his belt, with a
hunter's or a bowie knife.

_Fifth_--What is the length of the journey?

_Answer_--From Independence to the first settlement in California,
which is near the gold region, is about 2050 miles--to San Francisco,
2290 miles.

_Sixth_--What is the time for starting?

_Answer_--Emigrants should be at Independence, St. Joseph, Mo., or the
point of starting, by the 20th of April, and start as soon thereafter
as the grass on the prairies will permit. This is sometimes by the
first of May, and sometimes ten days later, according to the season.



*       *       *       *       *


THE GOLD REGIONS--MISCELLANEOUS MATTER.

The following extract is from a letter written by Thomas O. Larkin to
Mr. Buchanan, the Secretary of State. It is dated at Monterey, June 28,
1848.

I am of the opinion that on the American fork, Feather River, and
Copimes River, there are near two thousand people, nine-tenths of them
foreigners. Perhaps there are one hundred families, who have their
teams, wagons and tents. Many persons are waiting to see whether the
months of July and August will be sickly, before they leave their
present business to go to the "Placer." The discovery of this gold was
made by some Mormons, in January or February, who for a time kept it a
secret; the majority of those who are working there began in May. In
most every instance the men, after digging a few days, have been
compelled to leave for the purpose of returning home to see their
families, arrange their business and purchase provisions. I feel
confident in saying there are fifty men in this "placer" who have on an
average $1000 each, obtained in May and June. I have not met with any
person who had been fully employed in washing gold one month; most,
however, appear to have averaged an ounce per day. I think there must,
by, this time, be over 1000 men at work upon the different branches of
the Sacramento; putting their gains at $10,000 per day, for six days in
the week, appears to me not overrated.

Should this news reach the emigration of California and Oregon, now on
the road, connected with the Indian wars, now impoverishing the latter
country, we should have a large addition to our population; and should
the richness of the gold region continue, our emigrants in 1849 will be
many thousand, and in 1850 still more. If our countrymen in California
as clerks, mechanics and workmen will forsake employment at from $2 to
$6 per day, how many more of the same class in the Atlantic States,
earning much less, will leave for this country under such prospects? It
is the opinion of many who have visited the gold regions the past and
present months, that the ground will afford gold for many years,
perhaps for a century. From my own examination of the rivers and their
banks, I am of opinion that, at least for a few years, the golden
products will equal the present year. However, as neither men of
science, nor the laborers now at work, have made any explorations of
consequence, it is a matter of impossibility to give any opinion as to
the extent and richness of this part of California. Every Mexican who
has seen the place says throughout their Republic there has never been
any "placer like this one."

Could Mr. Polk and yourself see California as we now see it, you would
think that a few thousand people, on 100 miles square of the Sacramento
valley, would yearly turn out of this river the whole price our country
pays for the acquired territory. When I finished my first letter I
doubted my own writing, and, to be better satisfied, showed it to one
of the principal merchants of San Francisco, and to Capt. Folsom, of
the Quartermaster's Department, who decided at once I was far below the
reality. You certainly will suppose, from my two letters, that I am,
like others, led away by the excitement of the day. I think I am not.
In my last I inclosed a small sample of the gold dust, and I find my
only error was in putting a value to the sand. At that time I was not
aware how the gold was found; I now can describe the mode of collecting
it.

A person without a machine, after digging off one or two feet of the
upper ground, near the water (in some cases they take the top earth,)
throws into a tin pan or wooden bowl a shovel full of loose dirt and
stones; then placing the basin an inch or two under water, continues to
stir up the dirt with his hand in such a manner that the running water
will carry off the light earths, occasionally, with his hand, throwing
out the stones; after an operation of this kind for twenty or thirty
minutes, a spoonful of small black sand remains; this is, on a
handkerchief or cloth, dried in the sun, the emerge is blown off,
leaving the pure gold. I have the pleasure of inclosing a paper of this
sand and gold, which I, from a bucket of dirt and stones, in half an
hour, standing at the edge of the water, washed out myself. The value
of it may be $2 or $3.

The size of the gold depends in some measure upon the river from which
it is taken, the banks of one river having larger grains of gold than
another. I presume more than one-half of the gold put into pans or
machines is washed out and goes down the stream; this is of no
consequence to the washers, who care only for the present time. Some
have formed companies of four or five men, and have a rough-made
machine put together in a day, which worked to much advantage, yet many
prefer to work alone, with a wooden bowl or tin pan, worth fifteen or
twenty cents in the States, but eight to sixteen dollars at the gold
region. As the workmen continue, and materials can be obtained,
improvements will take place in the mode of obtaining gold; at present
it is obtained by standing in the water, and with much severe labor, or
such as is called here severe labor.

How long this gathering of gold by the handful will continue here, or
the future effect it will have on California, I cannot say.
Three-fourths of the houses in the town on the Bay of San Francisco are
deserted. Houses are sold at the price of the ground lots. The effects
are this week showing themselves in Monterey. Almost every house I had
hired out is given up. Every blacksmith, carpenter and lawyer is
leaving; brick yards, saw mills and ranches are left perfectly alone. A
large number of the volunteers at San Francisco and Sonoma have
deserted; some have been retaken and brought back; public and private
vessels are losing their crews: my clerks have had 100 per cent advance
offered them on their wages to accept employment. A complete revolution
in the ordinary state of affairs is taking place; both of our
newspapers are discontinued from want of workmen and the loss of their
agencies; the Alcaldes have left San Francisco, and I believe Sonoma
likewise; the former place has not a Justice of the Peace left.

The second Alcalde of Monterey to-day joins the keepers of our
principal hotel, who have closed their office and house, and will leave
tomorrow for the golden rivers. I saw on the ground a lawyer who was
last year Attorney General of the King of the Sandwich Islands, digging
and washing out his ounce and a half per day; near him can be found
most all his brethren of the long robe, working in the same occupation.

To conclude; my letter is long, but I could not well describe what I
have seen in less words, and I now can believe that my account may be
doubted; if the affair proves a bubble, a mere excitement, I know not
how we can all be deceived, as we are situated. Gov. Mason and his
staff have left Monterey to visit the place in question, and will, I
suppose, soon forward to his department his views and opinions on this
subject. Most of the land where gold has been discovered, is public
land; there are, on different rivers, some private grants. I have three
such, purchased in 1846 and '47, but have not learned that any private
lands have produced gold, though they may hereafter do so.



*       *       *       *       *


Here is a letter of great sprightliness, beauty and interest, prepared
by that finished scholar and noted writer, the Rev. Walter Colton,
Alcalde of Monterey.

MONTEREY, California, Aug. 29, 1848.

The gold discoveries still continue--every day brings some new deposit
to light. It has been found in large quantities on the Sacramento,
Feather River, Yerba River, the American fork--North and South
branches--the Cosamer, and in many dry ravines, and indeed on the tops
of high hills The tract of country in which it is ascertained to exist,
extends some two hundred miles North and South, and some sixty East and
West; and these limits are every day enlarging by new discoveries. On
the streams where the gold has been subjected to the action of water
and sand, it exists in fine grains; on the hills and among the clefts
of the rocks it is found in rough, jagged pieces of a quarter or half
an ounce in weight, and sometimes two or three ounces.

The gold is obtained in a variety of ways; some wash it out of the sand
with bowls, some with a machine made like a cradle, only longer and
open at the foot, while at the other end, instead of a squalling
infant, there is a grating upon which the earth is thrown, and then
water; both pass through the grating,--the cradle is rocked, and being
on an inclined plane, the water carries off the earth, and the gold is
deposited in the bottom of the cradle. So the two things most prized in
this world, gold and infant beauty, are both rocked out of their
primitive stage, one to pamper pride, and the other to pamper the worm.
Some forego cradles and bowls as too tame an occupation, and mounted on
horses, half wild, dash up the mountain gorges and over the steep
hills, picking the gold from the clefts of the rocks with their bowie
knives,--a much better use to make of these instruments than picking
the life out of men's bodies; for what is a man with that article
picked out of him?

A larger party, well mounted, are following up the channel of the
Sacramento, to discover where this gold, found in its banks, comes
from; and imagine that near the river's fount they will find the great
yellow mass itself. But they might as well hunt the fleeting rainbow.
The gold was thrown up from the bed of the ocean with the rocks and
sands in which it is found; and still bears, where it has escaped the
action of the element, vivid traces of volcanic fire. It often encases
a crystal of quartz, in which the pebble lies as if it had slumbered
there from eternity; its beautiful repose sets human artifice at
defiance. How strange that this ore should have lain here, scattered
about in all directions, peeping everywhere out of the earth, and
sparkling in the sun, and been trod upon for ages by white men and
savages, and by the emissaries of every scientific association in the
world, and never till now have been discovered! What an ass man is,
with all his learning! He stupidly stumbles over hills of gold to reach
a rare pepper pod, or rifle a bird's nest!

The whole country is now moving on the mines. Monterey, San Francisco,
Sonoma, San Jose, and Santa Cruz, are emptied of their male population.
A stranger coming here would suppose he had arrived among a race of
women, who, by some anomalous provision of nature, multiplied their
images without the presence of the other sex. But not a few of the
women have gone too, especially those who had got out of tea--for what
is women without her tea pot--a pythoness without her shaking
trypod--an angel that has lost his lyre. Every bowl, tray, warming-pan,
and piggin has gone to the mines. Everything in short, that has a scoop
in it that will hold sand and water. All the iron has been worked up
into crow-bars, pick-axes and spades. And all these roll back upon us
in the shape of gold. We have, therefore, plenty of gold, but little to
eat, and still less to wear. Our supplies must come from Oregon, Chili
and the United States. Our grain gold, in exchange for coin, sells for
nine and ten dollars the ounce, though it is well known to be worth at
the mint in Philadelphia eighteen dollars the ounce at least. Such is
the scarcity of coin here.

We want a mint. Let Congress send us one at once over the Isthmus; else
this grain gold goes to Mazatlan, to Chili and Peru--where it is lost
to our national currency. Over a million of gold, at the lowest
computation, is taken from these mines every month---and this quantity
will be more than doubled when the emigration from they States, from
Oregon, the Sandwich Islands, and the Southern republics arrives. Send
us a mint! I could give you forty more illustrations of the extent and
productiveness of these mines, but no one will believe what I _have_
said without my name, and perhaps but few with it.



*       *       *       *       *


LETTER FROM CAPT. FOLSOM.

The latest and most authentic intelligence from the Gold Regions of
California, is the most interesting and the best. The following letter
from Capt. Folsom, it will be seen, is of recent date; and on perusal
the reader will find it is pregnant with valuable facts:


SAN FRANCISCO, CALIFORNIA, Oct. 8th, 1848.

MY DEAR SIR:--The prices of labor here will create surprise in the
United States. Kannakas, or Sandwich Islanders, the worst of laborers,
are now employed constantly about town in storing and landing
merchandise at a dollar an hour each; and the most indifferent laborers
are hired by the week together at six or eight dollars per day.
Mechanics obtain, when employed by the day, eight or ten dollars per
day, and by the month about six. In a few days, as the sickly season is
over, I presume wages will advance, for most of the laboring classes
are returning to the mines.

I have just completed the repairs upon a government lighter,
preparatory to discharging the cargo of the transport ship Huntress. I
attempted to hire a lighter to effect this, but could not get one
capable of containing one hundred and twenty barrels manned by two men,
short of fifty dollars per day. I have had the master of the government
lighter employed for several days in getting a crew for her; and when
he offers $80 per month for sailors, he is laughed at, and told that a
man can get that amount at the mines in one day.

A few days since, I sent a wagon-master to employ some men to handle
stores in the public warehouse. After searching about the town in vain,
for several hours, he saw a man on the dock whom he felt sure of
getting, for the individual in question did not seem to be blessed with
a redundancy of this world's gear. He was wearing a slouched hat
without a crown, a dilapidated buckskin hunting shirt or frock, a very
uncleanly red woolen shirt, with pantaloons hanging in tatters, and his
feet had an apology for a covering in one old shoe, and one buckskin
moccasin, sadly the worse for wear and age. When asked if he wanted
employment, he replied in the affirmative; and as the young man was
proceeding to tell him what he wished to have him do, he was
interrupted with "It is not that kind of work, sir, that I want; (at
the same time taking a bag containing about _two quarts_ of gold dust
from his buckskin shirt,) I want to work in the mines, sir. Look here,
stranger, do you see this? This bag contains gold dust; and do you
suppose I am to make a d----d nigger of myself, handling boxes and
barrels for _eight or ten dollars per day?_ I should think not,
stranger!" And our friend left in a most contemptuous manner. Nor was
this a solitary instance of like conduct; they occur daily and hourly
in this village.

All sorts of labor is got at enormous rates of compensation. Common
clerks and salesmen in the stores about town often receive as high as
$2500 and their board. The clerk now in my office is a young boy, who,
until a few weeks since, was a _private of volunteers_, and I am now
paying him $1500 per annum. This will not appear high, when I tell you
that I have just seen upon his table a wash bill, made out and paid, at
the rate of eight dollars per dozen; and that almost every thing else
is at corresponding prices. The principal waiter in the hotel where I
board is paid $1,700 per year, and several others from $1,200 to
$1,500. I fortunately have an Indian boy, or I should be forced to
clean my own boots, for I could not employ a good body servant for the
full amount of my salary as a government officer. It will be impossible
for any army officer to live here upon his pay without becoming rapidly
impoverished, for his time is not his own to enter upon business; and
although he might have money, his opportunities for making it useful to
him are few, unless he invests it in real estate. Unless something is
done, I am unable to see how it is possible for officers, living upon
the salaries granted by law to military men, to support themselves in
this country.

I believe every army officer in California, with one or two exceptions,
would have resigned last summer, could they have done it and been free
at once to commence for themselves. But the war was not then
terminated, and no one could hope to communicate with Washington
correspondents, to get an answer in less than six, and perhaps ten
months. For some time last summer, (August and July,) the officers at
Monterey were entirely without servants; and the Governor (Col. Mason,)
actually took his turn in cooking for his mess. Unless some prompt
action is taken to pay both officers and men serving in this country,
in proportion to the unavoidable expenses to be incurred, the former
will resign and the latter will desert, and it will be impossible to
maintain a military force in California.

I look upon California as perhaps the richest mineral country on the
globe. I have written you at great length as to the gold, and since the
date of that letter other and richer mines have been discovered. Rich
silver mines are known to exist in various parts of the country, but
they are not worked. Quicksilver mines are found at innumerable places,
and many of them afford the richest ores. The new Almadin mine at Santa
Clara gives the richest ore of which we have any accounts. With very
imperfect machinery, it yields upward of fifty per cent, and the
proprietors are now working it, and are preparing to quadruple their
force. Iron, copper, lead, tin, sulphur, zinc, platinum, cobalt, &c.
are said to be found in abundance, and most of them are known to exist
in various sections of the country.

As an agricultural territory, its great disadvantage is a want of rain;
but this is by no means so great as has been represented. I believe
California can be made to produce as fine wheat, rye, oats, buckwheat,
barley, vegetables, and fruits, especially grapes, as any portion of
the world. Nothing that has been fairly tried has failed, and nearly
every thing has produced wonderfully. The portions of the soil which
are capable of cultivation are inconsiderable in comparison with the
whole area of the country; but the soil about this bay, and in many of
the large valleys, is equal to the wants of a dense population. It is
proverbially healthy, and with the exception of portions of the
Sacramento and San Joaquin valleys, no country ever had, at the same
period of its settlement, a more salubrious climate.

I think California affords means for the investment of capital such as
few other countries offer. Any person who could come in here now with
ready cash would be certain of doubling his money in a few months.
Large fortunes will be made here within the ensuing year, and I am told
that there are some hundreds of persons who have already made on an
average $25,000 each. Whole cargoes of goods are sold at an average of
about 150 per cent. clear profit, and ready pay in gold dust.

When I came to this place I expended a few hundred dollars in waste
lots, covered with bushes and sand hills. The chapter of events which
has followed is likely to make this property quite valuable, if I am
able to look after it. What cost me less than $800, I suppose I could
now sell for $8,000 or perhaps $10,000. It is this consideration which
makes me willing to return to a country where my salary is insufficient
for my support. If Congress does not increase the pay of officers
serving here, I should still be willing to return, in the expectation
that my private interests would justify a measure which would otherwise
be certain to impoverish me.

Something should be done here at once for the establishment of peace
and good order in the country. All law, both civil and military, is at
an end. Among the mines, and indeed in most parts of the country out of
the villages, no authority but that of the strongest exists, and
outrages of the most disgraceful nature are constantly occurring, and
the offenders go unpunished. There are now about twenty-five vessels in
this port, and I believe there is not one of them that has a crew to go
to sea. Frequently the sailors arm themselves, take the ship's boats,
and leave in the most open manner, defying both their officers and the
civil magistrates. These things are disgraceful to the country and the
flag, and while vessels have to pay port charges, duties, &c., their
owners ought to be protected. The tariff law of 1846 is now in force in
California.

We have not had an American man-of-war in this port for more than a
year, and all the naval resources of the United States on this coast
are concentrated at Monterey, which is not a harbor but an open
roadstead, and which has not one-tenth of the business on its waters
which is done in this bay. During the whole year that I was collector
of this port, there was not a gun mounted for commanding the entrance
of the port, and there was not a United States man-of-war in the
harbor. We were exacting a "military contribution," and we possessed
not the slightest means of preventing vessels from leaving in defiance
of our authority.

In a few months the line of ocean mail steamers will be in operation
from Panama to Oregon, and this port is to be a depot for coal, and of
course a stopping point in passing both ways. The starting of the line
of steamers on this coast is likely to be an undertaking of very great
difficulty, and at this time, such is its importance, with reference to
both Oregon and California, that its failure might be looked upon as a
national calamity. Still, unless some kind of protection is extended to
the shipping of this port, it is not at all improbable that it may fail
for want of the necessary laborers, as soon as the boats reach this
harbor. Indeed, it is altogether probable, unless some competent
authority is found here at the time to preserve order, that the crew
will quit in a body as soon as the first vessel arrives.

Every possible assistance should be extended to insure the success of
this company, and every reasonable latitude should be granted in the
execution of their contract. It is now uncertain if the steamers can
enter Columbia river at all times in the winter; and they may find it
necessary to run up to Paget's Sound. This would be a small
inconvenience in comparison to the loss of one of these vessels upon
the very dangerous bar at the mouth of the Columbia--an event not at
all improbable, if they enter that river in the winter.



*       *       *       *       *


NEWSPAPER CORRESPONDENCE.

The following letters were communicated to the "Californian" newspaper,
and exhibit very graphically the state of excitement and the actual
state of things in the Gold Regions during last summer.


NEW HELVETIA, June 30, 1848.

I have just returned from Fort Sacramento, from the gold region, from
whence I write this; and in compliance with my promise, on leaving the
sea coast, I send you such items as I have gathered.

Our trip after leaving your city, by way of Pueblo, San Jose, and the
San Joaquin river, we found very agreeable. Passing over a lovely
country, with its valleys and hills covered with the richest verdure,
intertwined with flowers of every hue. The country from the San Joaquin
river to this place, is rich beyond comparison, and will admit of a
dense population.

We found the fort a miniature Manchester, a young Lowell. The
blacksmith's hammer, the tinner, the carpenter, and the weaver's
shuttle, plying by the ingenuity of Indians, at which place there are
several hundred in the employ of Capt. J.A. Sutter. I was much pleased
with a walk in a large and beautiful garden attached to the fort. It
contains about eight or ten acres, laid out with great taste, under the
supervision of a young Swiss. Among the fruit trees I noticed the
almond, fig, olive, pear, apple, and peach. The grape vines are in the
highest state of cultivation, and for vegetables, I would refer you to
a seedman's catalogue.

About three miles from the fort, on the east bank of the Sacramento,
the town of Suttersville is laid out. The location is one of the best
in the country, situated in the largest and most fertile district in
California, and being the depot for the extensive, gold, silver,
platina, quicksilver, and iron mines. A hotel is now building for the
accomodation of the travelling public, who are now obliged to impose on
the kind hospitalities of Capt. Sutter. A party of men who have been
exploring a route to cross the Sierra Nevada mountains, have just
returned, and report that they have found a good wagon road on the
declivity ridge between the American fork and the McCossamy rivers, the
distance being much less than by the old route. The road will pass
through the gold district, and enter the valley near the American fork.

A ferry is to be established at Suttersville, on the Sacramento, and
the road across the _tularie_ improved soon, which will shorten the
distance from this place to Sonoma and your city, about 60 miles.

After leaving the fort we passed up on the south bank of the American
fork, about twelve miles. This is a beautiful river, about three
fathoms deep the water being very cold and clear; and after leaving the
river we passed through a country rolling and timbered with oak. We
soon commenced ascending the hills at the base of the Sierra Nevada,
which are thickly set with oak and pine timber, and soon arrived at a
small rivulet. One of our party dipped up a cupful of sand from the bed
of the creek, washed it, and found five pieces of gold. This was our
first attempt at gold digging. About dark we arrived at the saw-mill of
Captain Sutter, having ridden over gold, silver, platina and iron
mines, some twenty or thirty miles. The past three days I have spent in
exploring the mountains in this district, and conversing with many men
who have been at work here for some weeks past. Should I attempt to
relate to you all that I have seen, and have been told, concerning the
extent and productions of the mines, I am fearful your readers would
think me exaggerating too much, therefore I will keep within bounds. I
could fill your columns with the most astonishing tales concerning the
mines here, far excelling the Arabian Nights, and all true to the
letter.

As near as I can ascertain, there are now about 2,000 persons engaged,
and the roads leading to the mines are thronged with people and wagons.
From one to nine ounces of pure virgin gold per day is gathered by
every man who performs the requisite labor. The mountains have been
explored for about forty miles, and gold has been found in great
abundance in almost every part of them. A gentleman informed me that he
had spent some time in exploring the country, and had dug fifty-two
holes with his butcher's knife in different places, and found gold in
every one.

Several extensive silver mines have been discovered, but very little
attention is paid to them now. Immense beds of iron ore, of superior
quality, yielding 85 to 90 per cent., have also been found near the
American Fork.

A grist mill is to be attached to the saw mill, for the purpose of
convenience of families and others settling at the mines. The water
power of the American Fork is equal to any upon this continent, and in
a few years large iron founderies, rolling, splitting and nail mills
will be erected.

The granite of the mountains is superior to the celebrated Quincy. A
quarry of beautiful marble has been discovered near the McCossanny
river, specimens of which you will see in a few years in the front of
the Custom House, Merchants' Exchange, City Hall, and other edifices in
your flourishing city.

P. S.-"The cry is still, they come." Two men have just arrived for
provisions from the Abjuba river, who state that they have worked five
days, and gathered $950 in gold, the largest piece weighing nearly one
ounce. They report the quantity on that river to be immense, and in
much larger pieces than that taken in other parts.


SONOMA. Aug. 5, 1848.

The mining fever is raging here, as well as elsewhere. Not a mechanic
or laboring man can be obtained in town, and most of our male citizens
have "gone up" to the Sierra Nevada, and are now enjoying "golden
moments." Spades, shovels, pick-axes, hoes, bottles, vials,
snuff-boxes, brass tubes, earthern jars, and even barrels, have been
put in requisition, and have also abruptly left town.

I have heard from one of our citizens who has been at the Gold Placer a
few weeks, and he had collected $1,500 worth of the "root of evil," and
was still averaging $100 per day. Another gent, wife and boy collected
$500 worth in one day. Another still, who shut up his hotel here some
five or six weeks since, has returned with $2,200 in pure virgin gold,
collected by his own exertions, with no other aid than a spade, pick
and Indian basket.

Three new and valuable lead mines have recently been discovered in this
vicinity, and one of our citizens, Mr. John Bowles, of Galena, Ill.--a
gent, who has been reported by the Boston press as having been murdered
by the Indians, on the Southern route to Oregon, from the
States--informed me that the ore would yield 90 per cent., and that it
was his intention to erect, as soon as practicable, six large smelting
furnaces.

The Colonnade Theatre, at this place, has closed for the season; it was
well attended, however, from the time the Thespians made their debut
till they made their exit. The "Golden Farmer," the "Omnibus," and a
Russian comedy called "Feodora,' (translated from the German of
Kotzebue, by Mr. F. Linz, of Sonoma,) were their last attractions.

The military company under command of Capt. J. E. Brackett, are today
exchanging posts with Company H., under command of Captain Frisbie,
both of the New York Volunteers. Company C. has been stationed with us
more than a year, and much praise is due its members, not only for the
military and soldier-like manner in which they have acquitted
themselves as a corps, but for their gentlemanly and orderly deportment
individually and collectively. We regret to part with them, and cannot
let them go without expressing a hope that when peace shall have been
declared, their regiment disbanded, and their country no longer needs
their services, they may have fallen sufficiently in love with our
healthy climate and our beautiful valley to come back and settle.



*       *       *       *       *


GOLD.

The New York _Evening Post_ has an article upon this subject, from
which we take the following:

The places where it is found are much more numerous than we might at
first suppose. The mines of America, however, surpass those of all
other countries. Though of comparative newness, they have furnished
three times and a half more gold and twelve times more silver than
those of the old world. Silver and gold were, before the discovery of
America, supposed to bear to each other the relation of 55 to 1. In
Europe the proportion is now about 15 to 1.

The gold of Mexico is chiefly found in argentiferous veins, as at
Guanaxuato, where it is obtained one ounce in 360. The only auriferous
veins, worked as such, are at Oaxaca. The rivers in Caraccas flow over
auriferous sands. Peru is not reported rich in gold at present. The
gold of New Grenada is found in alluvial soil, and is washed out in the
shape of spangles and grains. The gold of Chili, is found under similar
circumstances. Brazil formerly brought the most gold to market, not
even excepting Russia, which now, however, surpasses her. All the
rivers running from the Brazilian mountains have gold, and the annual
product of fine metal is now rated at $5,000,000.

There are no very late tables of the products of the American mines. We
have ascertained, by accident purely, how the estimate is made at
present.

From 1790 to 1830, forty years, the product of Mexico was:--

Gold     £6,436,453 Silver  139,818,032

Chili--

Gold    £2,768,488 Silver   1,822,924

Buenos Ayres--

Gold    £4,024,895 Silver  27,182,673


Add to this Russia--

Gold    £2,703,743 Silver   1,502,981


And we have from four countries alone 1880 millions of pounds sterling,
or forty-seven millions per annum.

If we add the products of Europe and Asiatic Russia, of the East Indies
and Africa, which some estimate at thirty-six tons of gold per annum,
we perceive that a vast amount of the precious metal is unearthed and
somewhere in use. The relative value of gold has certainly changed very
much within a few hundred years, and it probably will change still
more. But we do not think it is likely to depreciate one-half in our
time, for many reasons, though some persons imagine it will.

The true secret of all this present excitement is this: the Anglo Saxon
race, for the first time in their history, own and occupy gold mines of
very great value. Hitherto Africans, Asiatic or Indians, have held
them, and they have never shown that ardor combined with perseverance
which belongs to us. England never had any mines of gold, or she would
have worked them as diligently as she has those of coal. The Americans
have now a golden chance, and they are the first of their blood that
have ever had it. They will be sure to turn the opportunity to account.

At our leisure we will refer to some other interesting facts, in
relation to the value of gold at different periods. We conclude with
recalling one singular circumstance to the recollection of our readers,
that when the Romans captured Jerusalem, they obtained so much gold,
that the price of it in Syria fell one half.



*       *       *       *       *


LIEUTENANT L. LOESER, of the Third Artillery, a graduate of West Point,
furnishes the following information respecting the gold region:

"We have been favored by Lieutenant Loeser, bearer of dispatches from
Governor Mason to the government at Washington (who also brought on
about $20,000 of gold dust, which he deposited at Washington,) with a
general description of the gold region, the climate, &c., of
California. He says the gold region is very large, and there is
sufficient ore to profitably employ one hundred thousand persons for
generations to come. So far as discovered, the gold is found in an
extent of country four hundred miles long, by one hundred and fifty
wide, and no particular portion seems more productive than another. In
the river and on the flatlands the gold dust is found; but among the
rocks and in the highlands it is found in lumps, from the size of a
man's hand to the size of an ordinary duck-shot, all of which is solid,
and presents the appearance of having been thrown up by a volcanic
eruption. So plenty is the gold, that little care is paid to the
washing of it by those engaged when he left; the consequence of which
is great quantities are thrown away. In the highlands he was walking
with a man who found a piece weighing about thirty-five pennyweights,
worth $29, but which he purchased for $4. The piece is solid, and has
the form of a perfect acorn on the top of it. He has had it, just as it
was found, converted into a breastpin. A man, by ordinary labor, may
procure from $50 to $200 per day. With regard to the climate, he says,
it is salubrious, at no time being so cold as to require more than a
light blanket to sleep under. When he left, the people were sleeping
under the trees, without the fear of sickness from exposure. The rainy
season begins about the first of November, and continues until March,
though there are five clear days for every rainy one. Provisions are
generally high, at least such as cannot be obtained in the country.
Flour is worth $80 per barrel, though a fine bullock may be obtained
for $3. Clothing is very high, and the demand is very great. The
Indians, who have heretofore used no clothing whatever, now endeavor to
imitate the whites, and will give any price for garments. The report
relative to the Mormons requiring 30 per cent. of all the gold found,
he says, is a mistake. When the gold was first discovered, one of the
leaders of that people demanded that amount from all the Mormons, but
they remonstrated, and refused to pay it, which remonstrance caused not
the slightest difficulty among the people. He was in San Francisco when
the gold was first discovered, about forty miles from that place. The
news was received one day, and the following morning, out of the whole
company to which he was attached, every one deserted except two
sergeants, and took with them all the horses belonging to the officers.
In a few days the city was almost entirely deserted, and Col. Mason,
the governor of the territory, was, and has ever since been, obliged to
prepare and cook his own food. A servant cannot be had at any price;
and the soldiers have not sufficient pay for a month to subsist on for
a week. The salary of the governor is not sufficient to support him;
and, like all others in the more wealthy circles of life, he is obliged
to be his own servant. He speaks of the country as offering the
greatest inducements to young men of enterprise, and thinks there is
ample room and gold for hundreds of thousands.



*       *       *       *       *


ADVICE TO THOSE GOING TO CALIFORNIA BY THE CAPES.

The following article, condensed from correspondence in a daily paper
of New York City, will be found to contain many valuable hints to the
California bound traveler. It came to hand too late to appear in its
proper place, where the four different routes are spoken of:

The first grand desideratum is, to secure comfort on the passage, by
the most efficient and economical means, thereby, as far as possible
insuring the arrival of the company at their destination in good health
and condition.

To insure the most perfect health and comfort attainable on so long a
voyage, a vessel should not be fitted up as our European passenger
ships are, with bunks for the passengers to sleep in, but the berth
deck should be free from bulkheads fore and aft. This arrangement would
give plenty of room for the company to swing their hammocks or cots,
which could be stowed on deck in pleasant weather, leaving the berth
deck free from encumbrance, for the company to amuse themselves with
conversation or exercise. Such an arrangement would secure a more
perfect ventilation (a very important consideration) than bunks could
possibly admit of, as bunks unavoidably harbor filth and vermin,
besides leaving very little room for the exercise so absolutely
necessary in preventing the diseases incident to a protracted voyage.
Before the company proceeds on the voyage, each member should subscribe
to a code of regulations, and officers be appointed to carry them into
effect. This arrangement should be made in order to obviate the
vexation and annoyance which inevitably occur wherever a large number
of persons are promiscuously on shipboard. A simple system, such as
regularity of meals and cleansing the interior of the ship, similar to
the Navy regulations in that particular, are indispensible and will
contribute much to the pleasure, comfort, health, and good fellowship
of all on board.

The company should be composed of _practical persons_--Agriculturists,
Mechanics, and Artisans, as _nearly equal in pecuniary condition and
intelligence_ as circumstances will admit, and it would be very
important for the most useful and necessary arts to be well
represented. By such an organization, the company would be very
efficient; for by taking on board cloth, leather, iron, lumber, brick,
&c. their clothing, shoes, iron and wood work of a brick house might be
made on board. And would employ the various mechanics connected with
those arts, would tend to relieve the monotony of the ocean, and
PRACTICALLY _illustrate the benefits and many advantages_ of a true
_association_ of interests.

The agricultural implements of the most approved method, together with
the choicest varieties of young fruit trees and garden seeds, should be
provided. Instead of the usual ballast for the vessel, brick and lime,
if necessary, could be taken for that purpose, which might be used by
the company or disposed of to great advantage at San Francisco. The
vessel might be profitably employed in transporting passengers to and
from the Isthmus, with great profit to the company, of which the
officers and ship's company should be members. A _skillful surgeon_
should belong to the association. Every member of the company should
contribute all the useful books he could, as a library on ship-board
would be a constant source of amusement and instruction.

Persons about embarking on so long a voyage should be very particular
and have their provisions carefully put up. The United States service
rations will be found to be very economical. The following is the
weekly allowance per man:--

Sunday    14 oz. bread, 11/4 lb. beef, 1/2 lb. flour. Monday    14 oz.
bread, 1 lb. pork, 1/2 pint beans. Tuesday   14 oz. bread, 2 oz.
cheese, 1 lb. beef. Wednesday 14 oz. bread, 1 lb. pork, 1/2 pint of
rice. Thursday  14 oz. bread, 11/4 lbs. beef, 1/2 lb. flour. Friday
14 oz. bread, 4 oz. cheese, 2 oz. butter, 1/2 pint rice, 1/2 pint
molasses, 1/2 pint vinegar. Saturday  14 oz, bread, 1 lb. pork, 1/2
pint beans, 1/2 lb. raisins.

The spirit ration is omitted.

This is sufficient for the hardest-working seaman. The flour should be
kiln dried; any baker can do it. It is only necessary to evaporate all
the moisture, and pack it in air-tight casks. Pine-apple cheese is the
best and should be put up in water-tight boxes, saturated in alcohol.
Sour crout, pickles, &c. are excellent anti-scorbutics, and should be
eaten freely. Be careful and lay in a good store of "salt water soap."

N. B. The flour should be packed in casks that have contained distilled
spirits.

A vessel bound for California by the way of Cape Horn by touching at
Rio Janeiro, Brazil and Callao, in Peru, would divide the voyage into
three periods, increasing its interest without much addition to its
length of time. Rio Janeiro has one of the most magnificent harbors on
the globe, far surpassing in natural grandeur the bay of Naples. The
approach to the stupendous mountain coast is inexpressibly grand. The
entrance to the capacious roadstead is through a narrow strait of great
depth of water unobstructed by rock or shoal, flanked on the North by
the huge fortress of Santa Cruz; on the South the "Sugar Loaf" rock
proudly rears its lofty cone near one thousand feet above the surface
of the deep. The entire bay is nearly surrounded by numerous mountain
peaks of every conceivable form.

Leaving Rio we prepare to encounter the terrors of the "Horn," having
overcome its Westerly gales and "head-beat seas" debouching on the vast
Pacific, we career onward before the "trades" to Callao, the port of
Lima and capital of the Peruvian Republic. Here the refreshments
peculiar to the Tropics are plenty and of excellent quality. We ride at
anchor over the ancient City of Callao, (destroyed and sunk by an
earthquake 1746,) in sight of the lofty Andes, the mighty cones of
Pichnia and Cotopaxi blazing their volcanic fires far above the region
of eternal snow, their ice-frosted summits glittering in the sun,
forming a dazzling contrast with the clear deep azure of the tropical
skies.

Waving adieu to Callao, our canvas spread to woo the "trades," we sweep
onward to Alta-California, and entering the "Golden Gate" of the
Cornucopia of the Pacific, drop our anchor in the bay of San Francisco.





*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The Exploring Expedition to the Rocky Mountains, Oregon and California
 - To which is Added a Description of the Physical Geography of California, with Recent Notices of the Gold Region from the Latest and Most Authentic Sources" ***

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