A year of quiet at my happy home had passed since my return from my last voyage to England, when "the fever" as it was called began to rage in New York, and as I sat, convalescent from a fever of a different kind at the time, of more danger than my present trip, I listened to the tales of speedily accumulated fortunes. At first I heard them with complete scepticism, again with less, until in some degree faith in the tales began to be awakened in my mind, and at last I thought it might possibly come to pass that I should go to California; but still it was very vague, and I scarcely dwelt on the idea of so long a trip except as a dream. However, I mentioned it to two or three of my friends asking what they thought, and answers came, as is always the case on occasions when advice is asked, so various, that I was bewildered, and finally I felt I must come to those in my own home to aid me in my decision. But even here I was thrown back upon my own judgment. My noble father could give me no advice now, but in 1845, when I was in Texas, he had written to me: "Push on to California, you will find new animals and birds at every change in the formation of the country, and birds from Central America will delight you."

After long talks over the "pros and cons," I concluded to go for a long eighteen months from my beloved home, and decided to join "Col. H. L. Webb's California Company" which was being organized. I was appointed second in command owing to my knowledge of backwoodsman's life and the experience of my Texas trip; and after eight weeks of weariness and anxiety found I was to take charge of eighty men and, with $27,000.00 belonging to the Company, was to meet Col. Webb at Cairo.

I had talked with fathers, and with young men who wished to learn all about a backwoodsman's life in half an hour, made purchases of arms and implements and various needful articles, and finally all was ready, and the date of departure decided upon.

Feb. 8th, 1849. A day of hurry began, and three o'clock found us on board the steamer "Transport," surrounded by the company and a crowd of their friends and ours to see us off. Fathers took my hands in both theirs, and in scarcely audible voices begged me to take care of only sons, brothers asked me to give counsel and advice to younger brothers, men I had never seen gave hearty hand clasps that told of sound hearts, and said: "My brother's with you, treat him right and if he is my brother he'll die for you, or with you." The final words of clergymen as they gave us their parting advice and blessing, were drowned by the tolling of the last bell. Its knell went to my heart like a funeral note, and I was too much overcome to answer the cheer of the hundreds who came down to see us off, and in silence waved my cap to my brother and friends, and in deep mental sorrow prayed God for courage and ability to do all I had promised to try to do.

My men looked back to New York's beautiful battery, and I paced the boiler deck almost alone, watching the red sunset and cooling my burning face and aching head with the north-west wind, cold and frosty from the snow covered palisades, turning often to look up "our North River" to see if I could get one glimpse of that home so long to be unseen.

The tide was low so we had to take the outside, and I went to the bow to look over Sandy Hook towards the broad Atlantic, and to try to realize that the Pacific had to be seen before I could again return to my own beautiful coast. It was a most curious sight as I entered the cabin of the boat to see the different feelings exhibited; some were in deep thought; some in sorrowful anxiety; some gay, and again others with evidently forced merriment; but in the main, cheerfulness was certainly on every side, and when I had to announce that we had been promised what was not on board, a good supper, not a murmur was heard, and merriment was created by the imitations of the orders of the New York eating-houses such as: "roast beef rare," "plum pudding both kinds of sauce," etc.

Our cabins were not the most comfortable, nor was the floor of the dining saloon too soft for some of our city men, but we slept soundly from one until four; took breakfast at five, and at eight were driving in the quiet, dignified streets of Philadelphia towards the Schuylkill. Very cold weather had followed us, and the heavy northwester of the day previous retarded our progress across the Chesapeake from Frenchtown.[3] At Baltimore we took our luggage at once to the railroad station, and went to the United States and Union Hotels, where for a dollar and a quarter each we had supper, bed and breakfast, and went off, all in better spirits, for Cumberland, where, after a miserable dinner and supper combined, we packed into fourteen stages, having paid nearly an average of two dollars each for extra luggage, fifty pounds being the regular allowance for each man.

Feb. 10th. Fortunately we had a full moon, and as the mountains were all ice and snow it was "as light as day." Overloaded, and with top-heavy coaches, as our hind wheels would keep slipping first on one side, then on the other, to see what the front ones were doing, it was most extraordinary we did not capsize, all of us; but no accident occurred, and at eight next morning we had descended Laurel Hill on a run, and were slowly winding the lanes of a more civilized country.

As it was Sunday, many cheerful groups, gaily dressed, ornamented the stoops and sunny sides of the houses and barns of the contented farmers of western Pennsylvania, as we passed on to Brownsville, where we arrived at noon, glad enough to be safely landed on the banks of the Monongahela. We reached Pittsburgh at nine the same evening, went to the Monongahela House and had a comfortable supper, but as most of our luggage was on the steamer for Cincinnati, I went on board and took my berth.

Morning came, and after a few kind words from my relations at Pittsburgh, we left, and had one of the hundreds of monotonous voyages down the Ohio that are yearly performed by the steamers. At Cincinnati I was met by two additional volunteers, engaged by Col. Webb, and was much pleased by their appearance, though I should have preferred seeing backwoodsmen and men who knew more of the life we were going to lead, but we must hope on, and trust to Providence.

Passages and fares at hotels, etc., included, were now calculated to see how we had estimated the cost of each person to Cairo, and we found that for each one it was one dollar and forty-five cents over the twenty-five dollars allowed, and I took passages to the latter place direct, remaining only four hours at Louisville, where I had the good fortune to find my uncle W. G. Bakewell waiting for me, and dined with him while our boat was putting out some freight at Albany, below the falls. When I joined my party I was told that some of the men had stolen a valuable pointer dog, and that a telegraphic notice had been sent after them; but on inquiring I found it had been purchased, no doubt from a thief, so we sent it back from Cairo.

Large flocks of geese and ducks were seen by us as we made the mouth of the Ohio, and the numbers increased about Cairo. The ice in the Mississippi was running so thick that the "J. Q. Adams" returned after a fruitless effort to ascend the river. All Cairo was under water, the wharf boat we were put on, an old steamer, could only accommodate thirty-five of our party, so that the other thirty had to be sent to another boat of the same class; the weather was extremely cold, with squalls of snow from the north with a keen wind, there was no plank from our boat to the levee of Cairo, the only part of the city out of water. Will it be wondered at that a slight depression of spirits should for an instant assail me? But when a man has said he will do a thing it must be done if life permits, and in an hour we found ourselves by a red hot stove, the men provided with good berths for the place, cheerfulness restored, and after an hour's chat, while listening to the ever increasing gale outside, we parted for the night to wake cold, but with good appetites even for the horrible fare we had, and as young Kearney Rodgers said, as we looked at the continents of coffee-stains, and islands of grease here and there, with lumps of tallow and peaks of frozen butter on our once white table cloth, "Is it not wonderful what hunger will bring us to?"

Here we found Col. Webb with his wife and son; I was much pleased with the dignified and ladylike appearance of Mrs. Webb; once she had been very beautiful, now she was greatly worn, and had a melancholy expression, under the circumstances more appropriate than any other, for her husband and only son were about to leave her for certainly eighteen months, and perhaps she was parting with them for the last time. We chatted together in rather a forced conversation, until the "General Scott" for New Orleans came by, and then went on board paying eight dollars for each man and five dollars each for Col. Webb's three horses; so much for Cairo, I don't care ever to see it again.

I found my uncle, W. G. Bakewell, on board making the trip to New Orleans, and my journey was as agreeable as it could be, where all my associations were of a melancholy nature. I thought of past joys and friends dead and scattered since the days when I knew this country so well.

The river was very high, and the desolation of the swamps, the lonely decaying appearance of the clay bluffs, picturesque as they are, added to the eternal passing on of this mighty stream towards its doom, to be swallowed in earth's great emblem of eternity, the ocean, told only of the passing of all things.

February 18th. Four days from Cairo found us at New Orleans, and a few hours enabled me to find hotels for our party, and at six o'clock I was able to tell Col. Webb that I had done all I could that night and would be with him at nine next morning, and left for the quiet of my aunt's[4] home.

February 19th was spent in running all over New Orleans, ordering horse and mule shoes, bacon, flour, bags, tools, ammunition, and making arrangements to change our certificates of deposit for such funds as would pass in Mexico. I called with Col. Webb on General and Mrs. Gaines and was most kindly received by both, and afterwards asked to call again, but had no time, as every minute was occupied with my business.

Two of our men had to be returned from this place of bars, billiards and thirsty souls, and one of our otherwise best men was dismissed because he met some of his old "friends" (?) who would insist not only on a jovial dinner, but masked balls and all the other concomitants, and after four days of this, a unanimous vote of the company expelled him.

Sunday is selected at New Orleans for the departure of vessels to all parts of the world and at ten o'clock on the morning of March the 4th, we left in the steamer "Globe" for Brazos, north of Rio Grande. We descended the river to the mouth, but anchored there, as there is a dangerous bar, and the weather not looking favorable the Captain of our frail vessel deemed it prudent to wait until dawn before attempting to go further. We left our anchorage at daybreak, the cross seas of the outer bar breaking over the bows at almost every wave, and I felt that if a real gale came up from the south-east our trip to California would soon end. The day continued as it had begun. I went to my berth and could not have been persuaded that it was not blowing hard if I had not been able to see the water from my porthole. The night came on with a full moon and the trade wind of the Gulf just fanned a ripple on the old swell to send millions of sparkling lights in petty imitation of those spangling the heavens.

Three such nights and four days of hot sun, and we were running over the bar at Brazos in only seven or eight feet of water. Not a landmark more than ten feet high was in sight, but we could see miles and miles of breakers combing and dashing on the glaring beach, broken here and there by dark, weather-stained wrecks of unfortunate vessels that had found their doom on this desolate shore.

Brazos, like Houston in 1837, is nothing if you take away what belongs to government, a long flat a mile wide, extending for a good distance towards the Rio Grande, is kept out of reach of the sea by a range of low sand hills, if drifts of eight to ten or fifteen feet deserve the name; so like those on all our low shores from Long Island to Florida that every traveller knows what the island of Brazos is. The inner bay, however, looking towards Point Isabel is beautiful, and but for the extreme heat would have given me a splendid opportunity for one of my greatest pleasures, sailing.

We found a few cases of cholera had occurred here, and Major Chapman[5] with the kindness so generally shown by our officers to their countrymen, sent off our party at once in the government steamer "Mentoria." At New Orleans I could not insure our money over the bar of the Rio Grande without an immense premium, so I, with Biddle Boggs and James Clement, having landed the horses brought with us, went overland from Brazos to Brownsville opposite Matamoras, thirty-two miles, long ones. We took all our money with us, and started in buoyant spirits. At 10:30, March 8th, I found myself riding along the beach of this barren island; for six or eight miles we went merrily on, watching the little sand-pipers and turn-stones, and enjoying the invigorating sea-breeze, as the sun was intensely hot, and when, from time to time we passed through narrow lanes of chaparral where the breeze was shut out, and the dust followed our horses, we were exceedingly oppressed.

We had all seen Texas before, and like sailors once familiarized with the sea whom an hour restores to old habits and thoughts, so with the man of the prairies, and we all felt at home at once. The country is flat, showing here and there in the distance some of those bold prominences of clay represented so beautifully by the Prince de Neuwied in his wonderful illustrations of the West.[6] These near the Rio Grande, are, of course, only miniatures of the "Chateaux blancs" of the northern Mississippi. After our long ride of thirty-two miles, with only a hard boiled egg each for our mid-day meal, at three o'clock we reached Brownsville where the rolling of bowling-alleys and the cannoning of billiard balls was all that seemed to enliven the village at that hour. I went to find the Quartermaster to know where to put our money for safety, and was most kindly received by Major Brice[7] who took charge of it and put it in the strong box at Fort Brown. From this place we had next morning a fine view of Matamoras, and the American-like appearance rather startled me from my old belief of the low standard of all things Mexican, for it was the only town like a town I had seen; but I resumed my old opinion when I was told that all the good houses had been built by Mr. McGown, who had resided there for years, and so far I have not seen anything in the shape of architecture worthy the name, except the old missions about San Antonio de Bexar.

Brownsville, March 8th. Almost a calm this clear morning, but occasionally a soft breeze, so gentle as just to wave the white cover of the table at which I sat. From time to time a distant hammer sluggishly drove a nail, and the proud cock was heard to boast his self-importance in a shrill crow, the same I have heard from Berlin to this lonely place; the mocking-birds sang just as they did in my happiest days in beautiful Louisiana; my heart went back to my home, and a foreboding of evil seemed to come over me.

Brownsville is one of those little places like thousands of others in our Southern states; little work and large profits give an undue share of leisure without education or refinement, consequently drinking-houses and billiards with the etc. are abundant. The river here is narrow and rapid, and crossed by two ferry-boats swung on hawsers in the old-fashioned way stretching from bank to bank of the great "Rio Grande del Norte." They do a thriving business, as Matamoras contains many Mexicans who do both a wholesale and retail "running business," that is, smuggling.

March 10th. Col. Webb and the company came up last evening on the "Mentoria," Captain Duffield. He stayed over night and after purchasing a few barrels of rice at about twice its cost at New Orleans, and one or two little additions to our already large stock of necessaries, we set sail in the "Corvette," Captain O'Daniel. Some time was lost in our progress that night, as we stuck on the bar just above the town, however we soon went on, and I found this river quite different from the usual run of its channel, as after every rise, which is not often at this season, the channel is left full of mud, and the deepest water for a week or so outside the regular channel.

I do not believe any part of this country can be good for a thing, as the rain is so uncertain in its favors. The miserable Mexicans, who live far apart, at distances of ten or even twenty miles from each other, do not plant their patches of corn with any certainty that it will mature, the rain failing to come to fill the ears more frequently than it comes.

The ranchos are forlorn "Jacals" (a sort of openwork shed covered with skins and rushes and plastered with mud, here so full of lime and marl that it makes a hard and lasting mortar), precisely alike, varying only in picturesqueness of tree or shrub, or rather shrub alone, for there are no fine trees here, though the musquit[8] and willow sometimes arrive at the height of twenty or twenty-five feet, and back from the river the hackberry attains a tolerable size.

A tall reed of rank growth in thickets, and in other places a dwarf willow in patches like the young cottonwoods along the banks of the Mississippi, are the chief growth.

The water is warm, and so full of lime as to create, rather than allay thirst; what but necessity could ever have induced settlers to remain here I can not tell, for the whole trip from Brownsville to Camp Ringgold[9] does not present one even tolerable view; and the most pleasing sight to us was our own bright flag, one minute fluttering in a southeast breeze, then gently falling to its rough flag-staff, and again, five minutes after, blowing furiously from the northwest, so changeable are the winds; we hoisted our flag in return, and came to, just under Major Lamotte's[10] tent.

Col. Webb went in to see him alone, to induce him to allow us to go as far as Roma, but it appeared that Major Chapman had given orders to the contrary, as our boat was so large that her return would be doubtful, so we were taken only two miles further up the river, and put out on the Mexican side, on a sandbar, opposite Rio Grande City. It was two o'clock, the sun pouring down on us, the mercury 98 degrees in the shade, nevertheless with all our winter blood in us, we had to unload our heavy luggage. Casks of government tents and camp equipage, which we were obliged to roll sixty or seventy yards through mud and sand, was hard work. This began to tell the tale. The good men went at it with a will, the dandies looked at their hands, touched a bacon barrel, rubbed their palms together, looked again, and put on gloves; but it would not do, and out of our ninety-eight men, only about eighty were at their work with good will and cheerful hearts, but all was soon done, and I gave a sort of melancholy glance at the "Corvette" as she started off. The Captain had been very kind to us and we gave him three cheers, and turned to set up our tents for the first time. We adhered closely to military style, and our straight line of tents did not vary; dry sand or wet mud had no effect on our position. In the cool of the evening after I had done all I could for the comfort of those around me, I stretched myself out, with hat, coat and boots off, to look at the busy scene around me. Gaily and cheerfully everything went on, under a clear sky like that of August at home, with all the soft, balmy, summer-like feeling. About me were the familiar notes of dozens of mocking-birds and thrushes. I opened out the nucleus of my collections, a little package of birdskins; a new thrush, a beautiful green jay, a new cardinal, were side by side with two new wood-peckers and a little dove, all new to our fauna, and I carefully spread them out to dry, and admired them. The sun went down, our supper was ready, and never did a company enjoy their meals more than we did for the first two days we were ashore, when exercise and good health gave a relish to everything. Our guard was set and detailed for the night, and I turned in on my blankets with a short prayer for health and continuance of blessings on my family.