June 28th. Left Parral at noon, leaving Carroll, E. A. Lambert, J. S. Lambert, J. Black, Pennypacker and Joseph Lambert to follow after burying poor Teller. Before this we had sold our Jersey wagon for $275.00 and I refused $250.00 for two mules, as I did not dare to start short handed in animals, their lives here are so uncertain. Our start was late, not only owing to the loss of our companion, but because the night previous we had a severe storm with thunder and lightning, which had drenched tents, blankets and men; many of the men were stiff and cold, and we had to dry the tents and blankets to save weight on our mules, but when we did start, we wound along a glen that led to our first view of the spurs of the eastern chain of the Rocky mountains, and exclamations of delight burst forth from all.

We rode until six this evening, twenty miles, when another terrific storm coming on, we camped on a grassy flat, among musquit and scrub oaks, with good feeding for horses, but bad water. It rained too hard to make a fire, so we dined on bread and Parral cheese, not bad I assure you. Each man was served with a tin cup of brandy and water. The question was brought up as to whether or not brandy was essential, except in real illness. As we sat in the dim light of our lantern, drenched and cold, we decided in the affirmative, and if our friends could have seen us, they would, I think, have sanctioned the vote.

At ten o'clock I turned myself and my guard out, and Henry Mallory and his twelve men were my relief; the guard being unusually large, thieves here being so numerous that guards must be close enough to see each other, even on a dark night.

June 29th. We passed through patches of beautiful scarlet lilies, that sometimes were an acre in extent, gorgeous and splendid, and contrasting with an equally abundant blue-flowering plant like larkspur, but alas, I am no botanist. We here came to the first great ascent we had made for some time. Had we not been told that La Zarca was the highest point in central Mexico, we should have thought ourselves a thousand feet higher than at any previous time on our trip. Up we went through scrub, post and live-oaks filled with mistletoe, and a most beautiful laurel, with the stems and branches bright cinnamon orange. At last we arrived at the top of the ridge, and came to a jutting point giving a view of the most magnificent mountain pass that can be imagined. Our men gave a shout for mere exultation, and I partook of their buoyant spirits, and cried out: "Three cheers for these glorious hills," and such cheers!! Echo after echo responded, and we gazed then in silence at the superb cliffs, volcanic, basaltic, and sandstone, all discolored with the iron prominent on the surface, and below us the beauties of a little torrent that dashed on to the west as fast as I could have wished to go.

Our course was downward now, and as we descended the forest grew taller; laurel, pine, oak, a wild cherry, a cedar, new to me, two feet six inches in diameter, with balls and foliage like arbor vitae, and bark furrowed like an ash, ornamented the beautiful gorge; besides there were the common cedar and many splendid walnut trees. To describe the road would be rather difficult; it was just passable, that is to say could be passed; in many places not easy work for our packs. Most of us led our horses, either to save them or ourselves, for a stumble might send us two or three hundred feet down, and was not to be risked.

Just as we reached the valley Maybury was taken ill with what resembled cholera, and could not ride on in the heat of the day, so Dr. Trask, Simson, Mallory and Pennypacker remained behind with him. The rest of us went on for ten miles, and encamped on a beautiful, rolling prairie under some post and narrow-leaved swamp oaks. It rained most violently as usual, as it has done every evening since we entered the mountains. Fortunately, before it began Maybury and the men left to care for him reached camp.

June 30th. A fine morning. As we had no fresh meat we took a little bacon, our never failing standby, and going on came to Huajatita, and camped two miles beyond. Here we bought a six-months-old calf for five dollars, and abundance of corn for two dollars and fifty cents per cargo (six bushels). I am so enchanted with the wild beauty all about us, that I could almost stay months to enjoy it. It is all new to me; the hills and mountains are different in shape from any I have seen; the plants, trees, rock, all strange, and as we take our horses to the beautiful creek to drink, curious fish come to look at their noses.

July 1st. Again our road was up hill, and most dangerous, so most of us walked, but with all our care nearly lost two mules, by mis-steps. The narrow passes are so worn by the trains of pack mules, that, to insure safe footing, each mule puts his foot in the same worn hole that other mules have trod, for, perhaps, fifty years previously. Two of our train failing to do this rolled over four or five times, and how they ever recovered their footing is a mystery; a horse under similar conditions would have gone to the bottom.

To us, so long suffering from drought and bad water, the showers that come daily in the afternoon about three o'clock, and the little streams we cross, are most enchanting. The ride today was very interesting.

July 2d. We are leaving the mountains and I dread the plains again, they are so monotonous. We found some wild grapes, and, to us, the most matured were not sour. Liscomb was taken ill today with dysentery, and we feared we should lose him. Tone put him on his horse, the easiest we had, and Carroll was most kind to him; we were compelled to go on, but we gave him short rests as frequently as we could.

Gradually the plain narrowed, and as we neared the ridge of mountains which bounds one side of the valley of Santa Cruz, we passed the ruins of a once beautiful Mission. It was a low, Gothic style of architecture, built of yellowish white sandstone.

We waited in the shade of the walls of Santa Cruz to rest young Liscomb, and the main company wound its way along to a rancho a few miles distant where we could get corn for the horses and mules. I did not have time to see enough of Santa Cruz to describe it. Like all the towns of this part of the country, it has the remains of strong walls, that fifty years ago gave safety from the incursions of the Indians.

As the day cooled we took Liscomb on, and crossed the Conchos River, called by the natives, of course, "Rio Grande," as they call every river in Mexico. On reaching camp I found Langdon Havens had killed three glossy ibises at one shot; they are most abundant here, also white egrets and green herons, and I was delighted to see buff-necked Cormorants of California, and many other birds strange and new, but no time have I to study them, or even to secure and prepare specimens, and how could I carry them if I had them?

I was called here to see Carroll, who while measuring corn was taken with a violent fit, after which he was so exhausted we had to leave him behind with four men, and we rode ten miles further on, and at the setting of the sun came to a little river, with high bluffs, and most beautiful in the light and shade given by the clouds.

Our path has been most precipitous, alternately descending and ascending, to and from the river. Never in any country have I seen more beautiful lands; we rode through groves of water-oak, and what I should call willow-oaks, with a sweet little acorn, almost as good as a nut, occasionally pines and cedars; and there are many little brooks, in nearly all of which are fish, so I presume there must be water holes all the year round.

Antelopes are seen from time to time, but only one or two a day, wonderfully scarce for a country apparently so well adapted for both deer and antelopes. The black-tailed hare is seen too, but scarce, compared to the numbers we saw after leaving Parras.

Leaving this place we rode along a sandy bottom, which in the rainy season is the bed of a torrent. We left just before sunrise, and the heavy dew of this country gave such a freshness to all vegetation that nature seemed more luxuriant than ever. The prairies at this season present to our view many beautiful flowers, nearly all of a most delicate character, like primroses, larkspurs, sweet williams. Nettles six feet high, their blue flowers almost hiding the rich green of their stinging leaves, extend, sometimes, for miles along the sand bars. The cactus seems to have been left behind. We now found quantities of mushrooms, looking like the same species at home, and having the same flavor both raw and cooked.

The minerals I cannot speak of, but Dr. Trask tells me that there is a good deal of silver, and some gold in the earth mixed with quantities of lead. The stone is sandstone, and now and then we see most beautiful marbles, black and white, in strata, as if laid by hand.

We killed three pigeons today, and have seen many, of what I take to be either Steller's Jay or the ultramarine, but they are so shy, we cannot get at them. One of "the boys" gave me two young marmots, but I cannot place them, though the spots are a good deal like the Mexican, but not regular enough for that species. The land snail, which as far as Monterey was abundant, has gradually disappeared, and we are now free from it. The eatables in this country are scarce, no vegetables except beans, onions, and a very small pea. Beans are seventy-five cents an "Almud." Corn one and one half to three dollars a "fanega" (nearly three bushels). Cattle, half grown, three to twelve dollars. Sheep from a dollar and a half to two dollars. Hogs, strange to say, run up to eighteen and twenty dollars, and are fattened expressly for the lard, which is as high as eight dollars for twenty-five pounds, and a very large, fat animal has sold for fifty dollars.

Concepcion, about the twentieth town of the name we have passed, is a dirty little place, with a church and nunnery. The inhabitants are like all other Mexicans, and are in eternal dread of the Apaches. So far we have not seen a hostile Indian, and only once a trail, which was that of the "Taromari" [Taraumara][17] tribe, and our guide said were not Bravos. Many of the people take advantage of us as an escort, and run along either before or behind, and at night camp near us.

July 2d. We wound along the meanderings of the river "Verde," sometimes smooth and again a dashing torrent, and reached "El Rancho Arisachi," deserted by its original owners. It is worked by Tarimari Indians and owned now by some one whose name we could not find out. We tried to buy cattle, for we had had no fresh meat for several days; but any we pointed out could not be bought, no owner could be found. I told Van Horn, our best shot, to pick out the fattest yearling he could find, and we would pay the owner if he came forward. The beast was no sooner shot than a man claimed the price. By the time we had dressed the animal, and packed the four quarters on our meat mules, no vestige was seen of the dead animal—entrails, head, etc., being carried off by the Indians.

From this rancho we had to leave our beautiful stream for a mountain pass, and the first precipice we ascended cost Watkinson his horse; the poor brute had no bones broken, but was so lame from his fall, that we had to leave him behind. There was plenty of grass and water in the valley near which he fell and we hoped he would be found and cared for, not eaten, as among these Indians is the rule when horses or mules are broken down or injured. In places our road was almost impassable, but we reached the top of the first hill and had a view of the next, about three times higher. We could see very distinctly the zig-zag line of our road, in the red clay between the rocks and stones, and foresaw hard work for ourselves and our animals. Down we went, and in half an hour after began the new ascent. We were compelled to leave a mule here, and to divide his pack between two or three other animals.

Soon after, we made the last ascent, most abrupt and trying of all, but from the summit had a magnificent view of a broad plain such as I have never seen surpassed. On either hand mountain after mountain covered with oak and pine, and contrasts of sun and shade were before us, and the velvety distance ended in a rainbow. After a heavy descent we encamped on the brink of a little creek, overhung by tall pines.

Here we saw two elks, and Jack Black, mounted on a tired mule thought he could get near enough to have a shot, but after going about two miles, changed his mind.

July 3d. This morning we started early, and our road along this little stream was beautiful and so quiet that I lagged behind to enjoy it as much as possible, but in a short time we began a stony ascent of two miles, after which came an uncomfortable descent into another beautiful valley, but with poor grass; here we took a short rest, and then continued, reaching, at noon, Tomochic, on a little river of the same name. The old Mission had only the original tower; the rest of the building is now adobe.

The river here makes a sudden turn from southeast to northwest, and we took it up-stream; it runs through miles of sandstone worn into cliffs and fissures, presenting the most fantastic shapes imaginable, delighting us at every turn. We looked in vain for fish in the most tempting of eddies and holes, but saw very few; little trout about five inches long were all that rewarded our search. We crossed and re-crossed this stream twenty-two times in about seven miles, and encamped on a sandy bottom covered with fine pines. Here I saw Steller's jays and Clement shot one for me; I also saw a fox squirrel, but I could not get it, and do not know its species. A magnificent hawk flew over us; he had two white bands on his tail—could it be Falco lagopus?

Fourth of July. Paso Chapadaro. Calm, misty, silent. The sun soon threw its red light over all we saw to the west, but was hidden by the range of mountains to the east which we had passed, till mastering at an effort, as it seemed, the highest ridge, it burst forth in all its splendor. In the bottom of my saddle-bags, rolled in a handkerchief, was a flag given me by poor Hamilton Boden, and by the time the haze had gone, it floated in the breeze, from the top of the highest tree near our camp; nature was all in a smile, and we prepared to spend the day according to our various inclinations. Some slept, some basked in indolence, some started off to look for game, some looked to their saddle-bags and blankets; all was rest, at least from travel, and I unpacked my paper and pencils and made a sketch of the "Fourth of July Camp."

Wild cattle were abundant, and noon saw our camp in possession of a fine heifer shot by Rhoades. Steaks were broiled and fried, ribs roasted, brains stewed in the skull; delicacies under such circumstances unequalled by the cuisine of a palace.

When evening came, Mess No. 4, all good singers, gave us some beautiful choruses from operas, as well as simpler songs, and as night brought the solemn quiet, and the moon glided in its ordained course, "Old Hundred" was sung with the most solemn feelings of reverence and adoration.

July 5th. Gabilana. Four o'clock saw us on our way. We rode some hours along the valley, rich in grass, shade-trees and springs of delicious water; then came a steep ascent, and most of us had to walk. We lost another mule today, but before leaving it succeeded in getting it to the table-land at the top of the gorge we had just ascended. It was a beautiful grove of pines and plenty of short green grass was under foot, and, most welcome sight, a log house looking so like home that a dozen of the boys rode off to see "a white woman;" but their disappointment was great—it was simply the house of a Mexican who had been in Texas some years, and had learned how to live in a little comfort.

July 6th. Santa Borgia. The woods today were most luxuriant as we wound round the gorge that commenced again our ascent to some still higher mountains. Our common robin was abundant, and a large green parrot, with a red head, was seen in every clump of pines, but its uncouth squalling was distracting. Except the cardinal and other gros-beaks how few birds of splendid plumage have sweet voices.

July 7th. Pitochi. Today we have followed one of the most extraordinary gorges we have seen, crossing and winding along the banks of a beautiful little stream, till between giant precipices we had almost the sensation that they might tumble in to fill the gap and crush us. One particularly fine white cliff, we judged nine hundred feet above us; topped off with high towers of nearly white sandstone, its sharp lines broken by a straggling pine or scraggy cedar, growing in some of the many fissures, it was so grand that we left it with regret.

July 9th. Cerro Prieto. I saw today the first water-ousel I ever saw alive in America, and was enchanted with his movements, as he jerked his wren-shaped body with sprightly activity, or with whirring flight went from stone to stone, or suddenly plunged, in the most unnatural manner, into the foaming little torrent, and spread his wings half open, the pinions lowest. He headed up stream, keeping at the bottom, and went about feeding in the crevices of the rocks with as much ease, if not as rapidly, as a bird in the air.

July 10th. Early as we start, no one murmurs. I am writing a few yards apart from Mess No. 12, a queer lot. Rhoades, who has crossed the plains from Fort Independence to Santa FÉ eleven times, and Barrat, a wagoner of the Mexican War, are both very original, and perhaps would not get on well with the others but for Dr. Trask, a truly good man, who is their Captain. It is a misty morning, fire more of smoke than warmth, tent wet, blankets cold and clammy, and we are waiting for them to dry before packing. The roll has been called, and each mess is preparing breakfast. I hear Dr. Trask courteously ask: "Are those plates clean?" and Rhoades's nonchalant answer: "To be sure they are, didn't we eat off 'em last night."

July 12th. Concepcion. Yesterday we passed oaks with a heavy leaf, glazed on the top, so as to look as rich as the magnolia grandiflora of Louisiana. Raspberries are abundant but not ripe, and strawberries plentiful. We camped on ground covered with dwarf huckleberries, and a species of plantain of which our mules ate freely, but the horses sparsely.

July 14th. We commenced our day with the ascent of a steep rocky hill, with the trail cut in by the mules much in the manner of those we had seen before, and the road at first was so steep that we had to lead our horses. One of our mules gave out completely and we had to leave it on the table land which is almost invariably the apex of these mountains. A beautiful grove of pines with short but good grass beneath, made a fine contrast of color. As we camped our usual storm came on more violent than usual, and we were drenched through. Lieut. Browning says: "The claps of thunder and flashes of lightning are very well done in this country."

July 18th. Our road today was by far the most tedious we have had, being up hill nearly all the time, but the view from the top almost repaid us, if not our mules, for the toil. We arrived at the highest top near Jesus Maria; miles of mountain tops and peaks of rock and woods are far below us. Through a gap we looked at clouds blending with the mists below them, until the scene was like an ocean view.

Four hours and a half of most precipitous descent brought us to a luxuriant growth of pine and spruce, and passing through one of the wildest and most picturesque gorges I have ever seen, we came to the extraordinary little town of Jesus Maria, situated at the junction of two little torrents of clear, beautiful water, tumbling in noisy, joyous splashing from rock to basin, and carrying away the rubbish from this half-civilized settlement of miners as it passes through the town.

July 19th. Jesus Maria. Gold and silver are both found here, and the rock which contains these ores is soft and easily ground; the most common way of grinding seems to be a flutter wheel fastened to a shaft, which turns on another within the inner circle; this inner one is water tight, and two large stones are pulled round by ropes of rawhide fast to the wheel, which is about three feet from the ground. These are trailed round and smash the ore for two or three days; it is then dried, pulverized and washed. Sometimes simple washing, and sometimes with amalgam of quicksilver, gives the result of eight to ten marks of silver to the cargo, viz:—three hundred pounds. Gold is much more variable in its profits.

Everything used here is brought from the Pacific side, quicksilver, irons, wines and liquors; even flour is sometimes brought, but most of that comes from Sonora which is ten days' travel to the east.

July 20th. There was no open space large enough for us to picket our mules and pitch our tents in this town (said to contain two thousand inhabitants) and eventually we had to hire the only corral in the place, full of fleas and dirt, for which we had to pay twelve dollars per day. It is only about seventy yards long and perhaps thirty broad, so that we are very crowded. We find here three Americans, two Swiss and one Italian, who have for many years resided in this country as traders. There were a number of Englishmen, owners and superintendents of mines, who all treated us most kindly. I think the view of Jesus Maria which I give, supersedes the necessity of a verbal description of its situation, but not of the town itself, which is the place of all others that would be selected by a man who had left behind him enemies sworn to vengeance, for two minutes' start up any of the mountains would insure a safe retreat.

Yet the place has its charms; superb rocks, wild passes, and withal a vegetation so luxuriant that with the dozens of birds I could have spent weeks of enjoyment, but we leave tomorrow as we have been here two days.

July 22d. Leaving the public square yesterday we took a winding alley up the precipitous mountain: two of our mules fell off the trail; one rolled over ten or twelve times, pack and all, and then to our utter amazement got up, having come by a series of falls to a small level space, and began to eat.

We spent four hours going six miles to where the rear of the company encamped; thirty mules and thirteen men went six miles further, and Mr. Browning found himself with three men, four miles ahead of all, with no other assistance, and eighteen mules to care for. These distances between us are the result of the unequal strength of our mules, and one mule and a horse left behind us. A drizzling rain came up as night fell, and we had a miserable night.

July 23d. Limestone, sandstone, and huge masses of amalgam of gravel and sand, with quartz, have been all about us. The small plants are numerous; ferns everywhere, a beautiful scarlet honeysuckle is very plentiful, spruce, pine, balsam fir, hemlock and pitch-pine are all seen; our swamp alder grows here to great size, looking like black beech. Raspberries are as good as in Maine, and very abundant in many of the ravines and valleys. The magnificent oak with glossy leaves is here too, and a new species of reed, a perfect miniature of our large cane of the west. Steller's jay, a titmouse, and, I think, a crossbill, have been seen, but no parrots such as we saw to the east of Jesus Maria. Mists and fogs hang over the mountains, and the air is cold and damp unless the sun shines, and then it is very hot. Deep, indeed, is the solitude of this grand country, for but little animation is seen. Often as I sit sketching or writing I hear only the chirp of some cricket, or distant scream of a hawk to tell me that living things are about me.

July 25th. We have been feasting on venison, here very plentiful, and much sought after by the men, to such an extent indeed that Nicholas Walsh having wounded a deer yesterday, which was both misty and cloudy, followed it over hill and dale and lost himself.

We made a large fire hoping he might see it, fired guns and shouted, and early today he was found by a Mexican scout; he had wandered about for thirty hours between leaving the party and returning to it. He had been greatly frightened, and looked wild, when the Mexican brought him in. He said he kept getting almost within range of the wounded animal when it disappeared, and heavy rain began falling which washed out the blood of the trail which would have showed him the way back. He thought his heart would burst when he realized he was lost in an Indian country; he had no idea where he was; everything was mist and greyness; he was cold, hungry, and soaked through, and worst of all his gun and ammunition were wet; he was so eager not to lose sight of the deer that he had forgotten the rule always to reload as soon as a charge is fired, when in an enemy's country, as the report of the gun will inform the Indian of your proximity. He never heard one of the guns that were fired every fifteen minutes from our camp, and as soon as dawn came searching parties started in every direction, little knowing that Walsh was trotting towards us, behind a Mexican, in the peculiar half run of that grade of native, when in haste.

David Hudson and I had struck far off to the north, and had traversed table lands and mountain paths for some miles, when just as we emerged from a patch of oaks and undergrowth, all dead, thin, dried, brown leaves in contrast with the full summer bloom of everything outside this blighted spot, we heard the tread of men, and quietly moving behind two large trees near us, waited to see who the newcomers were. We knew we had heard the footsteps of more than one man, but only the Mexican appeared at first; in a few seconds with eyes like owls in daylight, mouth open, hair streaming in every direction, and looking like an escaped Bedlamite, came Walsh. He gripped my hand so that it feels bruised yet; his first words were: "Good fellow if he is a Greaser, have you two dollars?" The Mexican told us he had left the mine where he worked, to go to the rancho where his sweetheart lived, and knowing the country well, took a cross trail for speed and heard a man making a great noise who seemed to want something; he soon found him and knew at once he belonged to our company whom he had seen at Jesus Maria.

July 27th. We parted today with Joseph Stevenson, one of our blacksmiths, to my great regret. He returned to Jesus Maria where he is going into partnership with a Mr. Williams, a carpenter, and will no doubt make a good living for he is a very excellent workman. I passed today a large pine tree with the most curious display of the sagacity, instinct, or whatever it may be called, of some insectivorous bird, I think a red-headed woodpecker; for I saw one a few minutes afterwards, and he may be the workman. The bark of the tree was perforated with holes just large enough in diameter to hold the small acorn of this country, say half an inch, and about as deep; the holes were from a quarter of an inch to an inch and a half apart; the acorns seemed all to be put in butt end foremost, I suppose because the cone end would turn the rain better. Should instinct tell all this to the beautiful bird who lays up his store in this manner so that he may go in the winter to eat the grub that is sure to be in every acorn, how wonderful are the provisions of Nature for her children.

This high ridge gives a complete change of birds; Steller's jay, so common a few days' journey from here, is rare—indeed, I have only seen one; the Ultramarine takes its place, and I hope in a few days to see the Columbian; a few ravens are to be seen, and one hawk, like our red-tailed, but I am not sure of him. The lightning here is most vivid, and on the sides of some of the mountains of medium height, I found seared and scathed patches of timber and undergrowth, as if ignition of the electric fluid had taken place at those spots, possibly attracted to them by the presence of iron; if this is so, how terrific would be the destruction to our company if such an event occurred where we were encamped.

July 28th. Paragarto. We did not leave camp until nearly noon, waiting for a train of one hundred and eighty-two mules packed with nothing but flasks of quicksilver; the usual length of trains is about forty to fifty, with six or eight men. Our road was the usual ascent and descent, and on the second descent I saw fifteen or twenty swifts, about double the size of our common chimney swift at home. They appeared to nest on the cliffs opposite to the trail, a location similar to that of the first Republican swallow my father[18] found near Cincinnati.

Sundown found us in a beautiful little valley, setting up our tents in the usual rain, and trying to dry ourselves by the fires of those who had come in ahead. We have now become so accustomed to daily rains that it is a matter of course to encounter them. There is a rancho here with peaches and figs in abundance. In this valley we went again to shoeing horses; never were shoes lost in so short a time as on these cruel trails, sometimes they are wrenched off in a few hours, and they commonly get loose and require nails every three or four days. Layton and I ascended one of the highest peaks in the neighborhood; like all other mountain regions when one peak, seemingly the highest, is reached, others still higher appear between us and the desired view. Out of breath, shoes cut, and clothes torn, we reached the foot of the highest elevation like the cone of Vesuvius, and found it an arduous climb; broken, reddish traprock of all sizes made the mass, and a straggling pine from time to time added to the solemnity of this desolate place, which filled me with awe and reverence, which was not decreased as muttering thunder gave us warning that our turn would be next, if the attractions of the mountains the storm was already besieging, did not exhaust the clouds. Silently, however, we struggled upwards, and another half hour enabled us to look to the east, south, and west as far as eye could reach; the north was left to our imaginations, being hid by a veil of clouds which sent flash after flash, peal after peal, to tell us of the storm which held sway there. Distance lent such enchantment to all that the valleys and slopes looked as velvety as an English lawn.

Our descent was very rapid, but giving the usual fatigue of a downhill march. I saw many runs of deer, no doubt made by the bucks following the doe, though they are still in velvet. I saw some squirrels but could not get at them, as the stones on which we were walking were so loose that they would sometimes roll two hundred feet (I might almost say yards), and made so much noise that they startled not only them, but the deer.

At the bottom of the hill we both bathed in the little torrent that waters the beautiful valley; at times it is two or three hundred yards wide, and again compressed so much as only just to leave room to let the stream through. Its chilly bracing foam sent a sparkle through us as if bathing in soda water, and we may boast of having had such a bath as few can enjoy, unsurpassed for its freshness, and in the very heart of the southern Rocky mountains, perhaps a spot never seen by any other white men.

August 6th, Trinidad. The loss of mules, a few terrific passes, and here and there a valley of extreme beauty brought us to the western ridge of the chain of mountains leading down to Trinidad, a little old, worn-out place, having only some few hundred inhabitants, the town itself containing some stores like those we have come across everywhere from Davis's Rancho to Jesus Maria. At Trinidad there are three Frenchmen, one the Alcalde, the other two traders, dealing in everything from horses to a single tallow candle. They also sell quantities of muscalle, which is taken mainly for the love of the alcohol, for any dose of medicine would be as palatable, and in this hot country probably more beneficial, certainly less injurious. I asked one of the Frenchmen, now so long a resident that he had almost forgotten his own language, what induced him to live in such a country. His answer was short and to the point: "The love of gold." "Have you found it?" I asked. "No," was his reply, "but I cannot return without it." So it is with many of all nations, who, lured by the stories of fortunes easily made, come to this part of the earth and grow more and more lazy and indolent, until they have become unfit for the active, energetic industry requisite in happier and more enlightened portions of the world. The people here simply vegetate; many of them drink, and are depraved in many ways. Some seem happy with their Mexican wives, who, however, are neither as handsome nor as clever as quadroons.

Nature is beautiful at every turn, now in bird and beast, then in tree and flower, then in rock and rill: how pained I am to pass them all by; but the position into which I have been forced demands every hour, and I am never my own master.

August 8th. Santa Rosa. Today I passed three partridges and two doves, warblers and flycatchers without number, all new, and many most beautiful. Santa Rosa where we are camped is a beautifully situated little village, with a silver mine as its chief interest. There are some fine horses here, possessing more of the Arabian look than any I have seen before in Mexico. With great regret, I exchanged my old favorite Monterey for a mare here worth six or eight dollars. With all my care of Monterey, I could not save his back, and I felt as if parting with a friend, when with his majestic stride, his ears set forward, giving to his small head and curved neck an expression of excitement and fierceness peculiarly his own, he almost sailed through our camp, and winding down a pass leading to the village, left me gazing at the spot where I had seen him last. There is fine grass and plenty of water, and I was told he had gone to a kind master, an Englishman who had drifted out here.

August 10th. We left our camp after great difficulty in getting our mules together, and at six camped again, fifteen miles only, on our way, for it has been up and down hill all the time. The sunny side of the hills is always very hot to us, and trying to our poor mules. We passed many changes of vegetation but musquit is still the prominent portion. One tree we saw had a large fruit five or six inches long, hanging like a pear; it contained seed, laid in like those of the milkweed, and we were told the cotton-like substance which enclosed the seeds was used for candlewick. Here we saw the first large cacti I had seen of the cylindrical form; some of them are apparently forty feet high. If in a shaded situation, they have only one or two shoots, while others in open ground have perhaps fifty, but smaller and less luxuriant, being only six or eight inches in diameter, instead of four or more.

August 11th. Coming down the creek our second day's descent we opened into a wide arroyo of sometimes two hundred yards, with water running through it, and again the water disappeared and the dry parched bottom sent up a heat such as I do not recollect having ever felt before. I saw the men fag, get down and tumble on the grass at the sides, whenever a shady spot could be found, and the poor mules seemed completely exhausted. Many of us became sick at our stomachs from the effects of the intense contrast in temperature, for we had left an atmosphere like that of Maine, for the tropics. We saw a storm coming up and for once wished it to hasten; but we had no rain, only a gust of its cooling breeze, and we gladly left our trying surroundings for a delightful shade and green grass.

August 14th. We have had the same sort of travelling today; we came to the Yaqui River, a muddy stream at this season, about two hundred yards wide and so deep that we had to employ canoes to carry over our cargoes; the canoes are paddled by Mexicans (no great boatmen, by the way); the mules and horses we swam over, having passed Tomochi [Tonichi]; the little town is said to be four days' travel from Ures; it is about three quarters of a mile from the river, and it is a deserted mining place of a few adobe houses. Here, as usual, was sold muscalle, a few freholes [frejoles][19] and wheaten tortillas. Only once have I seen pulque, at a small distillery of muscalle.

August 15th. Soyopa. Leaving the Rio Yaqui for its little tributaries, which are sometimes above ground, and sometimes below, running over the sands, or disappearing underneath them, we encamped in a quiet cool spot, to rest after the great heat of the sunny sides of the hills we had left and the arroyos made by mountain torrents where we were nearly suffocated, and we look forward to the plains of the Gulf of California and the sea breeze that sweeps them, with anticipations of delight. Alas! an occasional thunderstorm is all that gives coolness to the atmosphere here, for the puffs of land breeze only tantalize and do not cool.

I tried here to buy or trade horses, and regret I did not get one I saw, but the straightened circumstances of the company compelled me to give up the idea.

August 17th. We passed a large rancho of about a hundred and fifty men and their squaws, for nearly all were Indians, and camped six miles further on; but as night came on thieves came too, whether Mexicans or Apaches I know not, but we have never encountered bolder ones. Hinckley, Havens, Sloat, Valentine and Boggs were on guard, all good men, but of no avail, four double barrelled guns and two pistols were taken, one from under Boggs' very eyes—how, no one could tell. We looked for the trail and found it, large feet and small moccasins and barefooted; but the dew was unswept from the grass outside the camp, so the theft must have been earlier in the night: we could recover nothing, though four of our best men went back; so after a fruitless search of some hours we left for Ures, and at three o'clock entered into a series of hills and valleys so beautiful in form and color, so fresh and green that our spring could not equal them. Many of Cole's[20] pictures were brought to mind.

August 22d. Ures. Three days' travel over a prairie sometimes covered with chaparral, and sometimes with grass brought us here. We are greatly disappointed; Ures, the capital of Sonora, with its Governor and military, Alcalde and court, is an adobe village of about four thousand Indians, and still they have power, and the Alcalde proved himself a man of considerable ability.

Coming down the mountains to the Rio Yaqui, we left coolness for heat. First we saw Turkey Buzzards, and lower down the Carrion Crow; still farther down we came to the table prairies and there were the Carra Carra Eagles[21] in great numbers; sometimes we saw fifty in a day, so that birds mark the altitude. The mocking-bird, raven and jay of the mountains are with us no more. I have found the plumed partridge plentiful, one with a black breast and guinea-fowl spots; but they are less numerous here and I fear will soon be seen no more. We are told gold abounds in the surrounding mountains, but the Apaches are so bad that it cannot be secured; however, the exaggerations of these people are so amazing, that we do not believe their tales; if we did it would be useless to leave here, as we could never live to reach our destination, there are so many difficulties; one great one is always with us, that is our poor mules, which fail daily.

August 28th. Some gentlemen today presented me with a large glass jar of peaches, beautifully preserved; there must have been at least a gallon, and we were so very grateful, for we become very weary of our monotonous fare of coarse bread made from unbolted flour, beef or game, half cooked often, and eaten from tin plates or the frying pan, and tin cups for coffee, if we have it.

We heard here one piano, but the same peculiar nasal twang pervades the singing of the whole of Northern Mexico.

On the journey here we lost eight mules and horses, and but for Clement I should have been hard pressed for the latter for Barratt. Clement exchanged his horse for two Mexican ones, which he procured from Mr. Gabilondo. The very next day I heard Clement's horse was dead, so I went at once to see Mr. Gabilondo. He said he had sold the horse and a bargain was a bargain, and that probably the animal had eaten something poisonous; however, revenge was talked of by all the men, and I found a fine looking mule in our train very mysteriously. To my question as to where the mule came from, I was told he had been "traded for;" I told the man who was riding him that he would have to bear all risks, and he cheerfully said he would; and so he did, for when the owner came forward, with his brand in hand—the voucher, in this country, of ownership—he was told very politely that the trade had been made for a pair of pistols (a pair that had been stolen four days previously), and he could not return the mule unless the pistols were forthcoming. There was a good deal of "Carambo,"[22] etc., but the train moved on through half the rabble of Ures, some of whom laughed, some swore.

August 30th. Leaving Ures the country is more level; to the southeast is a large plain covered with musquit of a different species from that on the eastern side, and not quite so thorny; the large cactus of the mountains is not found here, two smaller species taking its place.

I did not leave Ures until five p. m., when the train was five or six miles ahead of me. I rode slowly along the swampy lane leading north from the town, bordered with heavy hedges of reeds and chaparral, with, from time to time, a cactus, a palm, or a cabbage tree breaking the line of the horizon. One tall palm, stiff and formal, was standing out very distinctly in the soft light between moonrise and sunset. Large flocks of the yellow troupial in noisy bustle settling themselves in the rushes and willows bordering the little stream we are now fording, brought to my mind many an evening return home.

Two or three miles of this travelling brought me to the first sandy tableland, and the dull monotony of a road shut in by chaparral continued until I came to the camp, low-spirited and tired, and longing for the end of this toilsome journey; perhaps the fact that Osgood, Plumb and Brown having left us at Ures to go by way of Mazatlan with another company, may have had more to do with my depression than other circumstances.

Here, in the heart of the Indian country, with the watchword "Apache," in the mouth of every Mexican, and our guard rigid, we are toiling on through an interesting country. The large cactus, given by Fremont or Abert,[23] we met here in great luxuriance, having a centre of pulpy pith surrounded by a number of long hearts, one for each ridge of the meat, or pulp, of the plant. If I only had time, how I should enjoy making drawings of all this, but I cannot.

September 2d. Two days out from Ures we came to some Pimos Indians washing gold from black ore, which they said produced well; we found some lumps of ore in the dust, all of irregular shapes. The value is only about one real (about ten cents) for each bushel of dirt. Each man made about two dollars a day.

We had fine grass and pond water here, and are off for Altar.

September 9th. Altar. We reached this place yesterday after eight days journey over barren, sandy hills exactly like these which surround this town. What an eight days it has been, I hate to recall to my mind even by writing these brief notes. Half of us are on foot, our clothes are ragged and torn, and we have lived on half rations, often less, of beans, and what we call bread. Several days we were twenty and twenty-four hours without water, no grass for our horses, and inexpressibly weary always. Yet we are well and not as much depressed as might be supposed, and while we are short of nearly everything, money included, our courage is in no degree lessened.

Altar is a miserable collection of adobe houses, with perhaps a thousand inhabitants; there are only one or two grandees here, but nearly all are of Indian mixture. At one of the little villages through which we passed, La Nada, we had all the town about us, admiring our white (?) faces, and asking hundreds of questions, many of the girls had pretty Indian faces, and beautiful teeth and hair. Great quantities of peaches grow in the valleys and irrigated gardens, but what comfort there is is very primitive. Plenty of the California partridge are here, but the black-breasted is nowhere to be seen; the California quail is found, and Gamble's blue partridge.

I saw yesterday the most wonderful rainbow, or rather mass of prismatic mist; a heavy thunderstorm, one of the most furious we have encountered, took us just as we had left a rancho, formerly an old Mission, with a very fine reservoir two hundred yards square, built of stone and the exhaust arch of brick, and we rode on in drenching rain for nearly an hour. The storm abated just before sunset, leaving all of the west, below the lifting clouds, of that indescribable, furious red, which follows such blows, and the receding storm receiving the light and blending into an immense mass of rainbow haze.

The people here are not at all friendly to us, and instead of having them come out to see us at our camp, as at other places, often in such numbers as to be a nuisance, we find them cold, and almost uncivil. We are not looked upon with the same interest as heretofore, and could neither buy nor beg what we required for our use. We, however, succeeded with some difficulty in getting good flour and pinole, at eight and ten dollars per cargo. We had to make a kiln and burn the wood for charcoal, which we needed to make horseshoes, and we paid sixty-two and a half cents a pound for the only bar of iron we could find.