Chapter II: Part 2

26th. Sunday. A part of our train concluded to lie over to-day, but the majority being against it, produced a split in the train, owing to which 10 wagons left us and drove on, leaving seven wagons behind. This we consider no detriment, although the men belonging to those wagons that left us are all of them whole-hearted, noble-souled companions. Small trains travel faster than larger ones, and the difficulty of finding good camping grounds for a small train is not so great as for a large one. We were sorry to part with them, but we parted in friendship and peace, as all ought to do on this journey. Some of them wish to travel to Fort Laramie, which is 330 miles from Fort Kearney, before stopping, but we wish to rest our horses one day in every seven, and are determined whenever we can find grass to make that day the Sabbath. We are all very busy keeping the Sabbath, which is done here after this fashion: Exercises of the morning, shaving and cleaning with a plunge bath in the Platte river. Forenoon, setting wagon tire, repairing wagons. Afternoon, shoeing horses, washing clothes &c. &c. Evening, rest--which is all the time we get to rest. Our stopping days are no resting days to us, but our horses need it--they look well now, and we mean to keep them looking well if we can. We have three blacksmiths in our train, and one wagon maker. We set the tire on Ainsly's wagon this morning in a manner that would be new to blacksmiths in the States. Not having any means of welding tire, we took them off from the wheels, took all the felloes off, and then put leather cottrells or rings on the spokes, thereby raising the shoulder of the spoke and enlarging the circle of the wheel, then put the felloes on again, and then heated the tire, and set it as tight as the best blacksmith could do, with a forge and bellows to cut and weld the ties at. This valley is lined with buffalo bones and carcasses, their skulls lie about in every direction. One of our men found 18 yesterday in one spot at the foot of a high bluff. They were probably driven over the bluff by the Indians. We saw no buffalo to-day, although there were plenty of signs, they appear to come down to the river at night to get water, and go back to the plains in the morning. The bottom is about two miles wide here, and on the bluffs may be found some few scattering cedars. Litwiler killed a noble buck to-day. Its horns were in the velvet, and the meat good. It made us plenty of meat for the whole company, and some to spare. Saw a beaver dam at this place.

27th. We struck our tents again this morning and started. We have had a very cold day, so much so that we needed great coats and mittens, and I have suffered more with cold than on any day since I started. We had a smart shower in the morning, which was welcome. The country on this day's drive looks like a huge buffalo pasture, the ground being covered with buffalo chips like a farm-yard. The emigrants before us have been slaughtering them without mercy. We counted eight fresh slaughtered ones within one mile distance. We were informed to-day that McPike & Strother's train lost 25 mules and horses in a stampede last night. We crossed the south fork of the Platte this afternoon. It is about three fourths of a mile wide here, which is the south or lower ford, but we had to travel in the river at least a mile and a half, the wind and current sweeping us down the river, so that our course lay in the form of a half circle. The water was about up to our wagon boxes, one of them taking water a little. This crossing is one of the exciting scenes of this journey. When we crossed, the river was filled with wagons, men, mules and horses, extending quite across the river. One of our wagons got stuck in the quick-sand which frightened the horses, but frightened the driver more. Being on horse back myself, I rode back to assist the driver, but in our endeavors to start the wagon we had our doubletree broken, owing to which accident I had to go ashore and send back a spare team to help them out, but before the team reached the wagon, and within a few minutes after I had reached the shore, the driver came ashore, bearing in hand a tin lantern, that being (in his fright) the only thing which he could find of value, to save out of the drowned wagon, which, as he supposed, would be soon buried in the quick-sand. However, after awhile, the wagon came safely ashore, when the driver had the satisfaction of depositing his tin lantern in a place of safety again in one of the boxes in the wagon. He did not relish much being said after that about crossing the Platte, it was a disagreeable subject, decidedly. Some of the teams were towed through the river with long ropes, with 20 or 30 men dragging at them ahead of the mules and horses, up to their middles in the water. One man was riding horse back when his horse stumbled off from a sand bar into deep water, and horse and rider both went out of sight; a dozen of us started immediately for him, but before we had got to him, horse and rider both came up, the horse making for the shore, and the man for the nearest sand bar.--The man lost his rifle and hat, which grieved him a great deal; the horse lost his rider, which he did not seem to take to heart at all. We drove about two miles after crossing and camped on the bottom, with no fuel but buffalo chips. A stampede took place about sunset, of 150 head of horses, mules and oxen, which was the largest stampede that we have seen or heard of. We were just cooking our supper. Our horses were quietly grazing around the camp; the men gathering buffalo chips for the night, or idly lounging about the fires, talking and smoking, and taking as much comfort as possible after our hard day's work, when down the river came a sound, as of distant thunder, yet more terrible to the ears of the practiced emigrant on the plains; instantly every man was on his feet listening to the approaching sounds; faintly above the noise could be heard the cry of stampede! stampede! and a dark mass enveloped in the dust could be seen moving down upon us with the speed of the wind. Instantly every man sprang for the horses, knowing too well that if they were not got inside of the correll of wagons, before that moving mass of terror and phrenzy came up to them they were lost. The cooks threw down their frying pans, the men their pipes, and bags of buffalo chips, and the whole plain looked more like bedlam broke loose than a quiet camping ground; some shouted and belabored the poor beasts, who already began to feel the infection, others lugged away at the long lariets of their mules who dogged and sullen, threw themselves on their reserved rights, and braced back on all fours with their long ears turned back and their eyes half closed, seemed to say to the unhappy knights who were so energetically tugging them along, no you don't--you can't come it, if you do, just let us know, but in they had to go, in spite of their resolution and firmness. During this time, which occupied less space than I have been in recording it, the infuriated mass kept rushing down towards us, sweeping everything of stock kind along with them that came in their way. The matter began to look serious for us, although we had succeeded in getting all of our stock within the circle of our wagons, when suddenly, when within a quarter of a mile of us they look a turn and went dashing over the hills like a torrent, and a few minutes after them went 30 or 40 men on horses which they had secured, riding madly on to keep in sight of the terrified animals; on went the mass, and on went the riders, over hill and gully through the darkness of night in their "break-neck" career, until they came to the North Fork of the Platte, when fortune favored the riders, for the stampede took down the river towards the forks of the two rivers. Excitement reigned through every camp that night. Many had lost all their stock, their sole dependence for the prosecution of their journey, or even their safe return to the States. Families, men, women and children thrown out in the wilderness hundreds of miles from civilized beings, and their main hope gone. Would those in pursuit recover the horses? or would they dash on over these boundless plains in the frenzy of fear, growing more frantic as they proceeded, as many had before them, until nature could stand no more, and then drop dead in their tracks? These questions were often asked, and many were the tearful eyes that night that sought without avail rest and sleep. All night long the darkness was rendered hideous by the blowing of horns, firing of guns, and the shouting of men to warn, if perchance any straggler from the pursuing party should be on his return, of the whereabouts of the camp, and few were the eyes in those camps through which the stampede had taken its course that closed in sleep that night. The stampede continued down the river until it was stopped by the two rivers coming together, which once having checked their mad career, they were soon surrounded by the pursuers and safely secured, with the exception of one horse, which had broken his neck. Reader, if you wish to realize all the anxiety and horror of a stampede, go out in the plains hundreds of miles from help, where your horses are as necessary to your safety as the ship is to the sailor at sea. See a moving body of stock coming down towards your horses, snorting, neighing, bellowing and braying, enveloped in a perfect cloud of dust, making the earth tremble under their feet: witness the distended nostril, the glistening eye, and the fierce snort and neigh of your own horse as you cling to him for dear life, and as he kicks and plunges as the stampede approaches, and the madness grows upon him to break from you and join them in their mad career--go out and see and feel all these things, when perhaps your life hangs upon the result, and then you may have some idea of a stampede; but otherwise you cannot.

20 miles.

28th. We traveled up the south Fork about eight miles, when we left the river and crossed the dividing ridge between the two forks to the north branch of the Platte. The country is barren and sandy, with no grass. We saw several antelope, and had one or two good chases for them, but did not get any.

22 miles.

29th. We were compelled to ascend the bluffs to-day and travel 15 miles without water. Three buffalo came running towards our train to-day, and threatened to run through the train, but turned their course when within about 20 rods of us. Col. Sublet shot two bullets through one of them from his double shooter but did not bring him down. Litwiler afterwards killed a bull. We stopped four hours after we got to the river to get in the meat. It was excellent, with the exception of having a strong flavor of musk. It will supply our whole train for a week, besides leaving enough for 40 men. We have found great quantities of wagons, irons, chains and other property thrown away, on the road to-day. Abundance of buffalo, antelope and wolves are seen now.

24 miles.

30th. We got an early start this morning, and reached Ash Hollow about noon, where we found some trees growing, which were welcome to our sight. The road from the upper ford on the South Fork, comes in at Ash Hollow. Camped early and found plenty of grass, with thousands of horses cattle and mules feeding upon it. An old Frenchman with a party of Yanktaw Indians, is camped near us, trading with the emigrants. We have passed several good springs of water to-day. The Bluffs here are mostly limestone, with a few cedar trees growing upon them; back of this they have been mostly sand bluffs. We find alkali every day now.

22 miles.

31st. We had a heavy shower last night, a perfect deluge, but it was needed, for the country was very dry. We have passed several Indian villages to-day, belonging to the Yanktaw Sioux. One village had about forty lodges in it. The Sioux are a noble race and very friendly, and appear to be as much civilized as their neighbors near the settlement, that is they know how to beg to perfection. They lately had a fight with the Pawnees, in which they were victorious, and took a great many ponies, which are now feeding around the wigwams. One of them came in with a pony loaded with buffalo meat while I was in their wigwam. I saw some Indian burials, to-day. They bury on a platform raised from the ground, on poles about eight feet high. The poles are set up in the form of a pyramid, and are fastened together at the top, where also is hung the medicine bag of the chief. The body is wrapped in buffalo robes, and a cloth made of bark, enclosing also a quantity of buffalo meat, and other provisions to last him on his journey to the spirit land, and his arrows to shoot with on the way. When all the preparation is complete, the body is laid upon the platform, to moulder or dry up as may be, in the sun, until the robes get off when the ravens may finish it. This one that I went to see to-day, smelt so bad that I could not approach very near to it without holding my nose, and then it was very offensive. It was a chief who had been killed in the recent fight with the Pawnees.

_June 1st._ We had more rain last night. Passed several springs to-day, and saw some scattering trees on the bluffs. We now find great quantities of lizards; they are small, being about three inches long, and very sprightly and active little things, and the boys have much fun in chasing them. We passed some more Sioux and Chienes wigwams to-day; or as the Indians themselves pronounce it, Siuk. We had a heavy wind-squall in the afternoon, with some rain. Country still barren, with but little grass. We camped at night in sight of the famous Chimney Rock; this rock is quite a curiosity. It is composed of soft sand stone. It is about one hundred and twenty paces around it at the base, and about as high as Bunker's Hill monument, and looks very much like it at a distance. It can be seen at a distance of thirty or forty miles. We travelled one day and a half after we came in sight of it, before we came opposite to it. It is said by the French traders to have been much higher than at present, but is wearing away every year by the action of the elements. The Court House and county buildings are also in sight from our camping ground to-night. They are a group of sandstone bluffs, resembling the objects which they are named from, and are curiosities worth seeing. They are about twenty miles from us, perhaps more, but they look as if they were not three miles distant. All distances here are deceptive, the eye readily taking in objects at a distance of twenty or thirty miles, the atmosphere being so clear.

25 miles.

2d. Sunday. Laid over to-day, to air our loads and rest our teams.--All the wagons but Litwiler's and mess left us to-day, being anxious to get along. We shall probably overtake them at St. Laring, which is about ninety miles from this place. The weather is pleasant and warm with a fair chance for grass. Fuller and J. Ingalls undertook to go to Court House Rock this afternoon, which looks to be but a few miles from us, but after traveling about twelve miles they thought it looked quite as far as when they started, and they turned back; they got into the camp about eleven o'clock at night.

3d. Drove twenty-five miles, and passed the Chimney Rock. We camped about two miles back from the river on the bottom, and about four miles from a large bluff resembling the fortification which we named Fort Whitey, from its white appearance. Several of the boys went out on a wild goose chase to the bluffs for wood, there being a few straggling cedars in sight which appeared to be not over two miles distant; they started about four P.M. and got back at ten o'clock at night pretty well fatigued, with no fuel, being unable to reach the cedars.

25 miles.

4th. Had a heavy rain last night, and got a late start, but drove thirty miles and caught up with the rest of our company who left us on Sunday. We passed Robadove's trading post, at Scott's bluffs and camped about two miles from it at a spring of clear cold water gushing out of a rock.--This ought to be called the Rock of Horeb, situated as it is in a desert land. Our road to-day led back from the river and we have had a scarcity of water for our horses.

We have had a dry, hot day, with great scarcity of grass. The country is getting more barren. Found an indifferent camping ground.

25 miles.

6th. Passed another French trading post to-day with its usual accompaniment of Indian wigwams. Litwiler swapped horses with an old Indian who took a fancy to his horse because it was white, and his squaw wanted it, he said. We reached Fort Laramie about four o'clock, P.M., forded the Laramie river, and camped about two miles from the fort on the bluff, the authorities at the Fort prohibiting emigrants from camping in the valley.

26 miles.

7th. Remained this day at the camping ground to write home, there being a post office at the Fort. There are a great many wagons left at this point by many taking to packing. Thousands of dollars worth of property being thrown away, but anything we wish to buy, we have to pay double price for. Fort Laramie is situated at the junction of the Laramie and Platte rivers, and surrounded by high bluffs, being at the base of the Black Hills. It is 630 miles from St. Joseph, and 500 from Council Bluffs. The fort is built mostly of adobies, or unburnt brick, and resembles Fort Kearney. The garrison consists of about 300 men at this time.--The Council Bluffs road comes in at this place, and the soldiers have a ferry across the Platte by which they make considerable money out of the emigrants, which I understand goes into a fund to buy a library for the garrison. The officers have built a hand saw-mill near the fort, although there is no timber nearer than the Black Hills, some 10 miles distant from the fort.

8th. Struck our tents this morning and started on the Black Hills road. The majority of the teams have gone up the Platte bottoms. We have found good grass to-day, abundance of good buffalo grass, the best we have had. Passed the Warm Spring, 14 miles from the fort; saw a flock of mountain sheep, but they were so wild that we could not get a shot at them. Saw an antelope--had a grand chase for him, but he eluded us and got away. We camped at night at a beautiful stream of water in a romantic valley, with plenty of wood and water. One of Loyd's men shot a sage hen, which is a species of grouse somewhat larger than a prairie hen. The flesh of the sage hen is excellent savory eating. We are now in the sage country; it resembles our cultivated sage, but is more bitter, and grows about two feet high; also great abundance of prickly pear, the ground being sometimes covered for acres in one bed. The prickly pear covers the ground here to that extent that we are frequently compelled to clear away with our spades space to erect our tents, it not being particularly agreeable to the seat of honor to sit down on the long sharp thorns. This must be a healthy country, although a barren cold one, being constantly in sight of snow, which can be seen at all times in the year.

26 miles.

9th. The road this morning led up the valley of the creek about six miles, then struck across to another creek eight miles; after leaving the creek we found a spring of good water; five miles from this spring we came to Horse Creek. Here were great numbers camped, being just seventeen miles to the next water, with but little grass on the route. The latter part of the day's drive has been rough and sandy. We passed two men on the creek making pack saddles. They had given away their wagons and thrown away their other property. Wagons, harness, stoves, and all kinds of property we find strewn along the road now. We had a tremendous hail storm this afternoon. The hail fell two inches deep, some of the pieces of which were an inch in diameter. Many who were exposed had their lips and cheeks cut through by the hail. The storm beat our tents down, and we had to crawl under the wagons for shelter from its fury. We got up our tents again after the storm passed over, but had to sleep in three inches depth of mud through the night.

20 miles.

10th. We were camped last night opposite Laramie's Peak, distant about 10 miles. We first saw the Peak at a distance of 70 miles. It is always covered with snow, which makes it a prominent object. We reached La Pointe Creek about noon. Have had a hilly road to-day and poor grass.

26 miles.

11th. Camped last night at the Red Stone Quarries. Here we found the most beautiful, pure specimens of white free stone. It was soft and could be cut readily with a knife. The real free stone is equally soft when it first comes out of the quarry. We have had muddy roads to-day, and a very barren country to travel through, with but little grass. Passed Pearl Creek, where we had another severe hail storm. Saw a fine horse that had been left behind to-day. His feet had become injured for want of shoes.

22 miles.

12th. We saw a good vein of coal to-day, about ten inches thick. It was on the bank of the Platte river, where the water had washed the bank away. I examined it, and found it of good quality. A camp near us lost twenty-six horses and one mule last night, by a stampede. We have heard to-day that they have found sixteen of the horses, and mule. Country barren, and grass poor. Passed the Deer Creek to-day, which is a beautiful stream, with cotton wood trees growing on its banks. Fuller and Ingalls caught a mess of small fish out of it.

22 miles.

13th. Reached the Upper Platte ferry about noon. We found four boats, two belonging to the Mormons, and two to a St. Louis company. The charge for crossing is four dollars per wagon, and 50 cents for a horse or mule. The celebrated Kit Carson is here with a drove of horses and mules for sale. I did not see him, he being out on the hills with stock.--The country is very barren here, the Black Hills reaching down within a few miles of the river, and covered with snow. Crossed the river and camped on a barren hill-side without grass, which was the best spot that we could find.

15 miles.

14th. To-day's drive has been over a desert bearing nothing but wild sage, and crickets which cover the ground, and seem to get as fat as if they had something to eat. They were so numerous that we could not step without crushing some of them. Passed an alkali spring and pond 12 miles from the ferry; also the Willow Springs, 28 miles from the river. Found good water at the Willow Springs, but no grass. Camped on Prospect Hill in full view of the lofty snow capped Peaks of the Rocky Mountains, and have had a very cold, windy day's drive, with sandy road.

30 miles.

15th. Very cold day; have to wear our overcoats and mittens. Rained all night and forenoon, with a right smart chance of a snow storm. After the snow storm had blown out we had one of the most splendid views of the Rocky Mountains that the mind could conceive. They were clothed with pure white snow from base to summit, gigantic specimens of Nature's monuments. Passed some small creeks to-day furnishing some good water; also several alkali lakes and swamps. Thousands of wagon loads of pure saleratus and pearlash could be got here. The crusting over some of the swamps readily supported a man walking upon it. We gathered some for use and found it much stronger than the manufactured article, but think it contains some poisonous property, as the bread made of it affected us disagreeably. I should advise all to observe caution in using it. Passed the Independence Rock, which is a huge mass of granite covered with the names of thousands who have gone before us. Crossed the Sweet Water river, which is about 10 rods wide, and three feet deep at the ford, and camped one mile from the crossing.

24 miles.

Sunday. 16th. Moved our camp up to the foot of the mountain where we found a good spring of water and some grass. We are now fairly in the Rocky Mountains, and a ragged looking country it is. Huge piles of granite reared upon each other, covered with snow renders the prospect picturesque, but cheerless. Weather cold and windy.

17th. Passed the Devil's gate, a narrow chasm in the rock, said to be about four hundred feet deep, through which the Sweet Water runs. It resembles the dells on the Wisconsin river. Have had a sandy road and poor grass. Bought a light wagon and harness this evening for 10 dollars. Saw several heavy wagons that had been left on the road, owing to the sand.

25 miles.

18th. Crossed the Sweet Water three times to-day. Got in with a train of ox wagons which hindered us so much that we turned out and camped at 3 o'clock, P.M. Found good grass at camp, but have had sandy roads and no grass on the drive. Left our heavy wagon, for the good of other comers, who will probably burn it. Ice made last night half an inch in thickness.

19th. Started at half past three o'clock this morning, and passed all the ox trains in their camp ground, the Sweet Water, four miles from camp, from which crossing we will have 16 miles to travel without water or grass. Saw several dead oxen along the 16 miles, which were killed by alkali.--Crossed the Sweet Water again--passed one tent on the river of a man and his wife, the man down with the mountain fever. Roads sandy and grass poor. We overtook the balance of our company, who left us last Sunday, again to-day. This is the second time they have left us, and we have overtaken them within three days afterwards, which shows pretty conclusively, I think, that nothing is gained by driving Sundays.

28 miles.

20th. Got up into the region of snow to-day, and have passed several snow banks alongside of the road in the ravines. Road better, but no grass to speak of. We passed the 10 wagons to-day which left us on the Platte because we would not drive on Sunday. They had had four days start of us at Ft. Laramie. When we passed them they had 14 men down with the mountain fever. Crossed a branch of the Sweet Water and the Willow Creek, and camped about a mile from the latter. We passed to-day a grave made yesterday of a man found with his throat cut. He had in his hand when found, a jack knife, and near him was found a scanty supply of provisions. He had committed suicide. It was evident that he was a foot packer, and had probably become depressed by his journey and the gloomy prospect of his not being able to get through his long journey with his slender supply of provisions. Poor fellow; he had become discouraged in prosecuting one long journey, and had entered upon another longer journey, with, perhaps, less preparation than upon the first. His name was not known.

20 miles.

21st. We lost our horses this morning, which hindered us some time, but we succeeded in finding them again. We crossed the Sweet Water for the last time; 10 miles from the crossing is the summit of the Rocky mountains at the South Pass, which we reached at noon. It is known by two conical shaped mounds or hills, about 60 feet high. No one would ever suspect this to be the summit, the country is so level, and the ascent of the whole distance is so gradual. Three miles from the summit we reached the Pacific Springs, one of the heads of the Colorado river of the Gulf of California. Camped at the springs over night, found plenty of grass, but the swamps are very miry. At this place the California Express mail stops to take letters back to the States for the emigrants.--The price of sending back a letter is 50 cents. The other 10 wagons came up to-night and camped with us. They have two more men down with the fever, making 16 in all. They intend going the Salt Lake route from here, but we shall go the Sublett cut-off.

17 miles.

22d. Left early this morning and reached the Big Sandy river at night. We had no water the first 25 miles excepting from one small brackish creek. Passed the forks of the Salt Lake and Sublett cut-off, roads 14 miles from the Springs. The right hand road, the Sublett cut-off, the left, Fort Bridges and Salt Lake. The road along this day's drive has shown plenty of the evil effects of want of grass, water, &c., in the numerous skeletons of stock left last year along the road. The country is barren deserts, destitute of grass, and covered with wild sage. We found plenty of grass towards the mountains about three miles from the river.--We have had a hot day, although the mountains, as far as we can see are covered with snow.

31 miles.

23d. Sunday. Remained on the Big Sandy to-day. Great numbers are camped here intending to cross the Big Sandy and Green River desert to-night. One of our company Thos. Trimble, was taken sick yesterday with mountain fever; by my advice he was brought along by his partner, Col. Sublett, who had intended to remain back with him. He is very much better to-day, which inclines me to think that it would be better in most cases to travel with the patient in that fever than to lie bye. The Big Sandy is about 10 rods wide, and 18 inches deep at this time, and is a branch of the Colorado of the West.

24th. Started last night at five o'clock, P.M., to cross the desert, which is not so much a desert as a great deal of the country over which we have already traveled. It is destitute of water, but we found considerable grass. Arrived at the Green River about noon, having traveled all night, only stopping occasionally to rest our teams. The distance, as measured by a roadometer belonging to Dr. Reed's Pennsylvania train, was 41 miles, but I was told that a road turned off 25 miles from the Sandy which shortened the distance to Green River, to 30 miles. It was but little traveled, owing to which we missed it, being in the night when we passed it. Five miles from the river we had a bluff to descend which was 300 feet high, and almost perpendicular, but we got down without accident by locking both hind wheels and sliding. Last year the emigrants were obliged to take their wagons to pieces and let them down with ropes. We had a beautiful moonlight last night for traveling. Our road led in sight of the snow mantled peaks of the Rocky Mountains, which looked with the moon beaming upon them, like mountains of molten silver. It was one of the most magnificent views that I have ever witnessed, and richly repaid me for the loss of rest in crossing the desert in the night to attain it. We brought a packer across the desert in our wagon who was unable to travel on horse back, from sickness; he was so much better when we reached Green River that he concluded to try his horse again. Our company is peculiarly fortunate, for we not only escape sickness ourselves, but are often able to relieve others who are suffering. We crossed Green River in a ferry boat and drove seven miles, passing a creek six miles from the river, and camped for the night. Found the grass poor, but good water. We paid $5 a wagon for crossing, and swam our stock. Green River is about 15 rods wide at the ferry, with a very swift current, and generally deep. Some few ford above the ferry, but it is attended with great danger. One wagon went rolling down the stream, while we were there. One horse belonging to it was drowned, but the men were saved by the ferry boat. One went down yesterday in the same manner. I understand that 14 men have been drowned here this season in crossing. Flour is worth here $50 per hundred lbs. Green River presents the most romantic scenery in the world; it is deep set in the midst of bluffs that take the shapes of towers, castles, cities, and of every imaginable work of art. The bottom is smooth at intervals, looking like a lawn with the stream, as viewed from the summit of the bluffs meandering through it, looking like a silver thread winding through a green landscape, while at a distance on one side may be seen the peaks of the Rocky Mountains covered with snow, from their bases to their summits, rearing their heads far into the sky, with the sun shining upon them causing them to glisten like burnished silver. On the other side are Green River mountains, which, though less lofty, are quite as picturesque, having their valleys relieved by groves of pine, the green contrasting agreeably with the naked brown rocks composing the mountains. It is out of my power to do the subject justice.--It would be a paradise for a landscape painter. When the railroad shall be built from the States to California or Oregon, it will undoubtedly become a fashionable resort in summer, and then its beauty will be known to the world. Green River rises in the Wind River mountains and empties into the Colorado.

48 miles.

25th. Drove five miles to a considerable branch of Green River, and camped for the day. We here found the best grass that we have had since leaving St. Joseph. Drove our horses about one mile below the road and crossed to an island containing about 40 acres, covered with excellent grass. We have had a very hot day, as we have had every day since we left the Pacific Springs, but cold nights.

5 miles.

26th. Remain in camp to-day to recruit our horses. A man died about a mile above us to-day. He had the measles, when the mountain fever set in and carried him off. Some of the company went to the mouth of the creek this evening and caught a fine mess of salmon, one of which weighed seven lbs. They are an excellent kind of fish, and very well flavored, the cold ice water of the mountain rivers keeping them always hard. They are very abundant in Green River.

27th. Started again this morning early, traveled up the creek about three miles, then crossed the stream and struck across the ridges. Had a bad day for traveling on account of the dust which was suffocating.--Stopped to bait at some springs and thin groves at the foot of the Two Mile bluffs. We here found a few spruce trees. It is a great pleasure in these deserts to find trees, even if they are but dwarfs. We camped at night near a little brook at the foot of some high mountain. We have had high hills to ascend and descend to-day, with plenty of water but no grass until night, when we found good grass.

26 miles.

28th. We traveled above the snow region again to-day and had abundance of it all about. I climbed one snow bank 20 feet high, notwithstanding the heat in the middle of the day is so intense. We have had steep hills to ascend again to-day, but the worst of it is in descending them.--We crossed one considerable stream, name unknown. Fuller and Jonathan caught about 35 trout while we were lying about it. We have had plenty of Indians about us. They are Shoshonees or Snakes. Camped this night on Grove Hill, at the Bear Head encampment, in the summit between Green River and Bear River. We are above snow yet, and have found a plenty of grass and water.

18 miles.

29th. We had some very bad hills to descend to-day. I understand that the emigrants of last year had to let their wagons down some of them with ropes. We got down with out accident, by locking our hind wheels. Reached Bear River about 3 P.M., and drove down the Four Branches or Smith's River, and camped. At this point the Four Branches enter the Bear River between two high points or curves of the mountains, and within one hundred rods from the first to the last. One of them is very deep and bad to cross; the water coming nearly to the top of the wagon bed. Bear River is a large stream about 150 yards across, with a deep swift current, and runs almost directly towards the north at this place. Its bottoms furnish an abundance of luxuriant nutritious grass, enough to supply all the stock on the plains, and they resemble the bottoms on the rivers of Illinois. We find plenty of Indians on this river, it being the head quarters of the Shoshonees whose lodges may be seen on the opposite side of the river. They have an abundance of Rocky Mountain horses, and are learning to talk English very fast; have learned to beg right smart, as our Missouri friends say, but dog on 'em, if they can't beg, they will steal. They are a little better looking Indians than the Crows, but I think much more indolent and filthy.

18 miles.

30th. Sunday. We remain in camp to-day, having good grass and water. Some of the boys are fishing trout and have caught several. This is a beautiful, romantic spot, surrounded by high steep mountains, forming a basin three or four miles in extent, well supplied with grass. We have had some Indian visitors here to-day; one of them swam Bear River and came up to the camp, as naked as father Adam before he eat the forbidden fruit. He was an old fellow, and as full of his jokes as if he could talk English. His nakedness however did not seem to trouble him, as I suppose that according to his notions of propriety, "That nature unadorned, the most adorned;" and it is no unusual thing to see the Indian women in the same state of nature's ornament as father Adam's helpmeet was at the time before mentioned.

A train passed to-day, who called upon us for assistance in crossing the Four Forks, for reason that every man in the train was sick but one. We helped them to cross, when they went their way. Dr. Reed's Pennsylvania train camped here last night. They moved on this morning with the intention of getting up a celebration of our National Anniversary on the Fourth of July. We have traveled occasionally with them since striking the Little Blue, often camping with them, so much so that we seem to feel like old friends.

July 1st. Struck our tents this morning and crossed the Four Forks.--Had bad crossing the second Fork, the water being over the top of the wagon box. After crossing, we had to go over one of the worst roads around the mountain I ever saw, sometimes raising our wheels up perpendicular rocks three feet high, sometimes jumping off similar ledges.--We broke the bolster to our wagon--others experienced other injury.--Some in advance of us had been still more unfortunate, as the wrecks of wagons along the road plainly proved. We drove about 12 miles and baited by another fine stream, where we found plenty of grass, and caught a fine mess of trout.

This afternoon we had some tremendous hills to climb and descend, with a very rough road, over combs of rock, but at night we found ourselves past them, and on Bear River again, where we camped. We have found an abundance of grass and water to-day, and have had rather a pleasant time, although climbing some of the hills was sufficiently tiresome, though not as tiresome as the descent.

25 miles.

2d. Had a good road with plenty of water and grass. The road left the river to-day, following up a wide valley, in which we camped for the night. We passed an Indian village this afternoon, with a grocery and a black smith's shop. The forge was an army forge, belonging to the Government. Porter swapped one of his horses that had got beaten out, with an Indian, and got the wickedest little witch of a pony that I ever saw. It had never been rode with anything but a lariet. The boys had great sport this evening in trying to harness her, which they succeeded in doing after a long fight with her.

22 miles.

3d. We had an excellent road with an abundance of water and grass. I say nothing about wood for the last thousand miles, for the reason that we have had to do the best we could for fuel by using buffalo chips, (Boise baches) and sage bush. We passed the Soda Springs this afternoon and camped on the Bear River for the last time, and where the Fort Hall road leaves the river, and about four miles from the Springs. The Springs are situated at the point where the Bear River commences to turn towards the south. They will undoubtedly, when the great railroad shall have been constructed to the Pacific, become a great watering place for the world.--It is a beautiful location. The majestic Bear River flowing along--the snowy peaks of the Utah mountains stretching away to the south as far as the eye can reach, while to the north can be seen the lower ranges of the Rocky Mountains, green to their tops with vegetation. The Springs arise on the bank of the river on a small plain covered with cedars through which runs a clear branch of the Bear River. To the west may be seen the bed of the old volcanoes, now a barren plain, covered with wild sage, and dangerous to travel, on account of the numerous chasms of unknown depths, opening their yawning mouths on its surface. Probably there are no greater curiosities in the world than the Soda Springs. The water from several of these springs is equal to the best soda. We tried it with acid and produced a most pleasant beverage. One of them called the Steamboat Spring, is a great curiosity of itself. It has a cone shaped shaft or spout, the cavity of which may be six or eight inches in diameter. The water rises and recedes in this shaft every few minutes, with a noise like letting off steam on a steamboat, hence its name. There are also Sulphur Springs, and springs containing other minerals, and five miles back in the hills is a Sulphur Lake. We have had a pleasant summer day to-day, although the mountain-tops are covered with snow. We have had a light shower this afternoon, for the first time since we crossed the Rocky Mountains. We found an Indian village at the Soda Springs, with one or two Frenchmen. They were Shoshonees or Snakes, and very intelligent looking Indians.

25 miles.

4th. Not having overtaken Reed's train, to celebrate with them, we concluded to travel to-day. The Fort Hall road here bears to the right, which is also the Oregon route; the Soda Springs cut-off route keeps directly across the old crater. We concluded to go the latter route. About 10 miles travel took us over the crater, and six miles more over the hills to a branch of the Lewis or Snake River, a branch of the Columbia River, where we found another Indian village, with some Mexicans, and about three hundred of the most beautiful Rocky Mountain horses. We passed the village and stopped to bait on the side of the hill, where we found good spring of water. We here had a pail full of punch made, cooled with a lump of snow from a deep snow bank a few rods from our camp, to celebrate our National Anniversary. Having drank our punch, and given three cheers for our glorious Union, we resumed our march. Soon after starting we came to where we had to descend a very bad hill, where we found one company with their wagon broken down, who were about to take to packing. Soon afterwards we came to another considerable stream which we traveled down a few miles and camped. We found plenty of grass on the stream and caught some fine trout.

25 miles.

5th. Passed several streams to-day, and some good springs. Roads good but somewhat hilly; plenty of grass; passed a brook about night, camped on a hill side by a spring of water. This is the most beautiful country that I ever traveled in; stupendous mountains, the bald peaks covered with snow, rearing their lofty heads far into the skies. The lesser hills green to their tops, and the valleys rich with vegetation, wild wheat, clover and oats, whilst the clear, pure, invigorating atmosphere renders it the paradise of the mountaineer in summer. It is well worth a trip to California for the slothful, ease-loving denizen of lower countries, to see the country, and recover their manhood.

23 miles.

6th. Drove about 11 miles and stopped to bait at a pretty little brook. We should have taken in water at this place, as we had to drive 18 miles to get water again. After baiting we entered a canon which we followed about eight miles to the top of a mountain. It furnished us with an excellent road, although so narrow that but one wagon could pass for most of the way, the walls rising on either side hundreds of feet. The ascent is gradual, so much so that the traveler hardly perceives any. We called this the Emigrant's Pass. It seems as if nature constructed this inclined plain expressly for the benefit of us poor mortals, but if dame Nature was moved by any such kindly feelings towards us when she was engaged on this excellent natural road, she must have got sadly miffed when she got it completed to the top of the mountain, for we had one of the most tremendous descents to make on the other side, that we have had on the journey. The descent was probably one thousand feet within the first mile, steeper than the roof of a house. It is said of an ancient Spartan, that he commenced by lifting a kid, and by continuing to add weight, soon got so that he could lift an ox. This is somewhat the case with us; when we commenced the journey, trifling hills were considered great obstacles, but now we lock our hind wheels and slide down a thousand feet, over rocks, and through gullies, with as much sang froid as a school boy would slide down a snow bank. After descending, we traveled down a valley a few miles and turned up to the foot of the mountains, and just after dark found water.

29 miles.

7th. Sunday. We concluded to lie over to-day, although we have not so good a camping ground as we could desire. One of our company, Loyd, of Mineral Point, Wis., had a horse stolen, or strayed last night. Another company, camped about eight miles from us, had three stolen by the Indians.

8th. Got an early start this morning. Passed another spring eight miles from where we camped last night. Met six men going back after the three horses that were stolen. They had recovered one, which the Indians had sold to an ox train. Passed some men digging a grave, to deposit the last remains of one who had traveled a long road to obtain a narrow home.

This afternoon, we entered another canon, similar to the Emigrant's Pass, only that instead of having a steep hill to descend, it reached quite through the mountain. The distance through, is about fifteen miles, and has several fine springs of water in it. Saw some goodly sized trees, either spruce or fir; camped at night in the canon on a spring branch which makes out on the west side of the mountain. Found good grass all day; passed over a valley covered with wild wheat, as high as my shoulders. It was headed out, and looked like a cultivated wheat field.

25 miles.

9th. Traveled down the Spring branch about six miles, when we crossed it, and traveled fourteen miles over a barren, burning sage plain, without water--to Raft river, which is the nastiest stream that we have had to cross, since leaving the Missouri. Deep, narrow and muddy, we had to pack all of our load across it, on our backs. One wagon that crossed whilst we were there, tipped end-wise over the forward wheels, as it entered the stream, throwing the two men who were in it, into the water, frightening them awfully. They caught hold of their mules' tails, and were drawn out; the king bolt of the wagon preventing its coming down upon them. We had four more, smaller streams to cross, within two miles of the Raft river, equally muddy; at one of which, we broke our hindmost evener, leaving our wagon in the water, and getting our load wet. After getting out of the scrape, we drove four miles, and crossing another branch of the Raft river, camped for the night, at the junction of the Cut-Off and Ft. Hall roads.

We are now at the end of the Soda Springs cut-off. I like this route much, with the exception of descending two bad hills; it is a good route, along which may be found abundance of grass and water, the two great desideratums on this long journey. It is somewhat infested with Indians, excepting the first 45 miles; they are the Shemook or Root Digger Indians, a thievish, rascally race. It is well for the emigrant to keep good guard over his stock on this cut-off, for they are always on the watch for an opportunity to steal. We have good grass and water to-night, and an abundance of it.

25 miles.

10th. Left our camping ground early and travelled up the creek about five miles, then crossed and passed over another dividing ridge to another small creek--came in sight of the Great Salt Lake road. Had plenty of grass and water--camped at night on a small brook in a basin in the mountains, surrounded by high granite peaks standing about in the greatest confusion, called the Steeple Rocks. They are quite a curiosity at a distance, looking like steeples rising up from the plains, some of them many hundred feet high, and covering more than an acre or two at the base.--The road has been good.

25 miles.