VOYAGE TO CALIFORNIA

December thirty-first, eighteen hundred and fifty-one.

Left Wheeling on Steamer Messenger for Pittsburgh, April twentieth. Exodus to California.

The tide of emigration for California swept me along in its progress for the same reason as thousands of others—to appropriate money enough by a few years' hard toil, to secure a future independency. When first the idea of a movement to the West took possession of me, I was wavering in the choice between California and Oregon and gave finally preference to Oregon on account of securing a homestead at the arrival there and to judge from the last news of the diggings better wages than in the latter. From an inability to make up a certain complement of immigrants I had to give up the project and go to California. I left subsequently Pittsburgh on the Steamer Paris, passing Wheeling without seeing my brother, and arrived after a week's journey down to the mouth of the Ohio River and from Cairo up the Mississippi to St. Louis.

The Ohio River is formed by the confluence of the Monongahela and the Allegheny at Pittsburgh, the formation of which place is alluvial bottom carried down from the mountains in previous ages. It has along its shores some of the finest agricultural country as well as numberless cities and towns, among which we count the following as the largest and where the most business is carried on: Wheeling, Virginia, Marietta, Ohio, Cincinnati, Louisville, Evansville, etc. Besides these, being all places where manufacture of all kinds is carried on, I mention from its great obstruction to navigation, rather than its cosmogenic character, the Falls of Louisville, with the nature of which I am, however, too little acquainted to give particulars. A canal, which was built years ago, to overcome this obstacle, is of so little dimensions that the larger boats can not pass through and therefore this has always been a drawback to Ohio navigation and a hindrance to more progress for the City of Louisville. Several requests have lately been made from several states to Congress for the construction of a new canal large enough to let boats of large dimensions pass at any time conveniently. The hills running alongside the river beginning at its source generally slope down to its shores, having in many places very fertile tracts for agriculture. This mountain chain proceeds most of the time in a parallel direction with the river down to about one hundred and fifty to two hundred miles below the falls where they gradually descend to a level covered with luxurious vegetation in some places while marshes extend over a considerable part of it. The confluence of the Ohio and Mississippi is at Cairo, built on a vast swampy and unhealthy desert which, but for its low level, would be the central place of the United States, for merchants, around which they would gather and from whose midst the greatest movements would emerge and be controlled. This being, however, a natural difficulty, which no human skill can ameliorate, that centralizing point has to move higher up the river to St. Louis. This latter place has within the last twenty years increased remarkably and is at present the metropolis of the West and will undoubtedly increase in importance in a ratio parallel with the civilization of California and Oregon. By the present tide of emigration to the latter countries the amount of business is very much increased. In consequence of this a great many improvements have been made, consisting in building a large number of new expensive houses for merchants and manufacturers which betray to every stranger at the first look the impression of a great and industrial city.

Leaving St. Louis on the Steamer El Paso, we proceeded up the Mississippi twenty miles where we left this river to follow the course of another great river, the Missouri. This has in its main features a great resemblance to the Mississippi, having a chain of mountains parallel to both its shores and being sown with numberless islands like the former, the most of them nothing but sand carried down from the Rocky Mountains. The hills, however, instead of breaking off abruptly as on the Mississippi are generally sloping gradually at a height of sixty or seventy feet, toward the river bed. The country along the shores is comparatively little cultivated, the constantly washing power of the water keeping back any active efforts for agricultural improvements. A great number of quite respectable towns are met with along the river, as Alton, Washington, Jefferson, Booneville, Lexington, Independence (starting point for California, Oregon and Texas) then, Kansas and last St. Joseph. The Kansas River coming from the West, separates Missouri from the Indian Territory, the latter still peopled by the Indians as their last and only resting place in this country. The history of this great family of the human race teaches us the constant progress and retreat in the pursuit of nature's laws, the eternal relation of all things existing. This once so numerous family of red men were the sole possessors of America, over which they had extended in all directions, and several tribes had reached a high state of civilization when the country first was discovered, but as other families analogous to their own (Hindus and Malays), they retrograded by some aberration of the laws of nature and fell back into moral darkness and gradual disappearance from the face of the earth. The red men, once the masters of this vast land, had to give up their homes to give room to its present inhabitants and who knows how soon an inevitable Nemesis will strike out their existence from the Book of Nations?

This territory consists of mostly fertile prairie land, of an undulating appearance offering most beautiful fields to the observer of nature's beauties. After six days' journey we arrived at St. Joseph, Missouri. After our landing was made, a most active business took place at the wharf for a few hours arising from the delivery of freight to its respective owners. Having received our little property we put it in our wagons and camped out about a half mile above the town in a valley surrounded by hills and corn fields and except for a few cold rainy days we had a good encampment and passed the time we were there in making preparation for our long journey.

We left camp the third day of May to proceed on our journey further West, and after a few hours traveling not obstructed by difficulties with our teams nor bad roads, we arrived at Duncan's Ferry where emigrants for the West leave the United States and cross over to the Indian Territory. The ferry being badly attended to by its owners travelers were obliged to stop here rather longer than would be necessary if things were put in better condition with better men there to take care of it. We got across the river, however, after a thirty-six hour detention and put our foot on Indian ground the morning of the fifth, went on five miles, where, meeting good wood and water, we struck our camp and stopped until the next morning.

May sixth. The quiet of the night from the fifth to the sixth was interrupted by the heavy rolling of thunder, and its darkness by flashes of lightning. Towards morning we had a very heavy rain, which, although it put the roads in a rather bad condition, helped the vegetation considerably, and therefore, was of some advantage to our procedure. On the morning of the sixth we started on our journey, and after passing a river which is difficult to cross we ascended for the first time the plateau this side of the Missouri. After having got up to a height of about fifty feet above the level of the Missouri River, a magnificent scene was displayed to our view, resembling very much my native country—Germany. The whole ground is prairie land, running off in slight undulations to the horizon and bounded in its Eastern progress by the bed of the Missouri and the mountain chains on the left.

Nature is in this territory following its gradual progress and offers a vast land for cultivation to the natives of this and other continents. The civilization of this territory and Oregon will raise America to its pinnacle of perfection, both in wealth and moral efficiency. California and the Western shore of Oregon will become a centralizing place for business progress from which knowledge will spread out a beacon light to all nations.

We traveled this day about ten miles North-westward from our last encampment and about fifteen miles from St. Joseph. Our team got along very well and could have traveled several miles more but for driving our cattle as little as possible the first few days, to let them gather all the strength possible. We encamped at the left of the road where we met with plenty of wood and water and off to the right with pasture for our cattle.

On the morning of the seventh after having fed our oxen and taken some refreshment ourselves we started for our further journey. About one-half mile from Camp we passed the Creek, on its upward ascent; passing on about a mile further we arrived at Wolf Creek, across which the Indians have struck a bridge, for the crossing of which they charge the emigrants a high price. It is, however, a great convenience to the latter, the creek being about thirty feet wide and from three to four feet deep. The Indians, who built the bridge, have put up their camp there. This side of the creek I ascended several hills, and after traveling about five miles arrived at the Mission. This is an Indian settlement, where the Indians are taught the principles of Christianity. It consists of a few log huts, one of which contains stores where several of our traveling companions stopped and bought articles necessary on our journey.

After leaving the Mission we went on about thirteen miles further, meeting within this distance with several springs and after passing another creek we went up to the next hill and put up quarters for the night. This evening we bought a pony from some of the emigrants, which, although not of immediate necessity for the journey, is a very convenient thing to its owners.

On the morning of the eighth I mounted the pony and rode ahead for a few miles. I mention this as being rather something great, being the first riding ever I did. Crossed about three miles from our last encampment—Buffalo Creek—where the Indians again charge toll for crossing and drove on this side the creek about twelve miles, meeting the grave of a deceased emigrant, on which lay a live dog, probably the only faithful servant to his master, howling away and paying the last tokens of sympathy to him who was resting there in a lonely grave. We stopped at the left of the road till morning, where we calculated to lay over Sunday. However, not finding good pasture for our cattle, we left there about eleven o'clock and proceeded forwards about eight miles where we unyoked our teams and put up for the night.

May the tenth. We started early in the morning, proceeding Southwest on our road. Although the sky was clear at daylight, it clouded over toward noon and we had one of the hard storms frequent on the plains and exposing the emigrants to discomfort and contagious diseases. Having driven off from the road expecting to find water and wood in a Southwesterly direction, about two miles off, we finally met, after having been wet all through, a creek bordered by plenty of timber, where we put up our encampment. These were some of the most discouraging moments we had since our start—arising from the wet and cold of the weather, and only moral courage can at this moment prevent moral depression. A man that had come around with us from Pittsburgh and displayed to us the most gentlemanly behaviour, having started with a sick family of eight little children from St. Joseph, and kept with us up to this night, keeping up under all difficulties, was obliged, on account of his wife getting sick, a woman of the greatest energy ever met with, to turn back to the States. After having dried ourselves, we took a good night's rest and started with new vigor the next morning on our journey. We had no difficulty getting along until about three o'clock P.M.

About this time we arrived at a creek called Mehemahah. The descent to the water is very steep and muddy, however of no great difficulty, compared to what is on the other side. Here, after passing the rapid stream, the water up to the wagon beds, we had to wade through some of the greatest mud holes ever met with before. Several of the teams got stuck on the other side. By increasing, however, the force, they finally got out and cleared the road for us to pass. After having proceeded about three miles on this side of the Mehemahah we stopped for the night.

It is Wednesday to-day, the twelfth day of May, and we have safely arrived at this side of the Big Blue River. This is a very nice stream and bordered with willow, elm and walnut and some of the oak found on the hills. We crossed the river the next day having but little difficulty, the river being low and the roads good. A starting house is to be found at the ferry this side of the river where emigrants can get what is most necessary on the journey. The country Westward of the Blue becomes very hilly, which with the rivulets and streams between presents a beautiful scene. The Blue River is about one hundred fifty miles from St. Joseph and supposed to be about one-half the distance to Fort Kearney. We have traveled since our fording of that stream about thirty-five miles and are at the present encamped somewhere in the neighborhood of Little Blue. The weather set in extremely cold and stormy about midnight and not having sufficient bed clothing nearly froze me to death. After having got up and taken our morning refreshments, we went on to our present place of encampment. The just mentioned stormy and extremely cold weather continued throughout the day, which, with the dust raised off the roads, made traveling very disagreeable and difficult.

On Sunday last we got in sight of the Little Blue in a Southerly direction from our present route. We did not, however, come to its banks before Tuesday the eighteenth day, and passed up an extremely hilly country for about twenty-five miles and left this river for the Platte.

We didn't leave the banks of Little Blue until this afternoon, Tuesday, the twentieth, the misstatement previously mentioned arising from the unauthenticity of the guide we took the respective distances from. The parallel distance we made along the shores of this river must have been about fifty to sixty miles. It is a very beautiful stream, much more elevated in its beauty by the barrenness of the surrounding country. Its water is, when at a medium stage, very clear and of very good taste. On our passage up the river we got in view of several prairie inhabitants as wolves, chickens and several miles off the river, antelopes and single specimens of buffalo.

The weather of to-day, although it was very pleasant and favorable to our journey, caused by its continued dryness a dearth of grass and by this, loss in the strength of our cattle. While I am writing these remarks a change of weather has taken place, which likely will make an improvement in the growth of the vegetation. The health of our company has been, since our start, in a good condition and although a number of deaths, partly of cholera morbus and smallpox happened among the emigrants, all of us are still enjoying our vigorous health and in general are in a good spirited mood. The frequent change, however, from hot days to damp cold nights is sufficient to undermine the stoutest constitution. How, therefore, we will in future this great gift of nature—health—preserve, is not to be fixed as a definite fact. Be it, however, understood, that a careful observance of physiological laws can abate diseases to a considerable extent.

May the twenty-first. We are now encamped about six miles Northwards of the Little Blue, and although late in the day we have on account of the rainy and stormy weather, not as yet decamped.

May the twenty-third. It is Sunday to-day and the great bright luminary of the day is peeping over the horizon in its full splendor, and eternal youthfulness animating the whole creation and endowing it with new strength and vigor. The remark so frequently referred to by Christians that the sublime beauty displayed by the sun proved the existence of a God, was made to me last night by a Universalist. True, the beauty is grand and sublime, but it is so without divinity connected with it. It is not something beyond nature but a planetary phenomenon following the great arrangements, the great and eternal laws of Mother Nature. No reasonable man will doubt the existence of a great incomprehensible principle which pervades throughout all nature, but this principle is nothing separated from the universe but is the great whole itself which can exist only all in all and not other ways which always was, always is and always will be, although things may be subjected to great changes.

We stopped in our camp a considerable part of the day, Orthodox Christians objecting to our movement. Calling, however, a meeting, and taking every single vote, the majority carried the motion for moving onwards. Having arrived last night within three miles to Fort Kearney, we made this distance in about an hour's time. The resemblance of this place to the civilized world awakened in us a great feeling of happiness thinking that although far, far off from home, out in a great desert, still enjoyment was offered to the onward moving emigrant. The fort consists of five frame houses, two for the use of the commanding officers, the rest for the soldiers, all built in good style well answering their respective purposes. Besides these buildings is a church for the service of the Lord which is frequented by soldiers, civilized Indians and passing emigrants. About three miles above the fort, we lost, by the carelessness of one of the men, our pony. By the hardest kind of running, we recovered it again. Nothing of weight happened the next day. Having proceeded about twenty miles further up the river we stopped for the night.

Twenty-sixth. We are now about three hundred and fifty miles off St. Joseph, encamped along the bank of the Platte here of about one and one-half miles width and very shallow. The river is sown with small islands all of very modern formation. They are generally over-grown with cottonwoods, and some of the oak kind, frequented more or less by wild geese, crows and numerous birds of smaller kind. Just as I am writing these lines my attention is attracted by the sublimity of the scenery around us. The whole Western border of the horizon is grandly beautified by the setting sun which, although out of sight, still leaves traces of its grand and sublime beauty behind, painting the horizon with the most various colours. It is getting darker and the far off peaks of a mountain chain which appears to follow a parallel course with the edges of the horizon gradually disappear. Quiet and peace is spread all over nature's garden. Many a turbulent mind is silenced by this beautiful phenomenon, and while yet gazing at it, is sunk in the arms of the God of Sleep, Morpheus.

May the twenty-ninth, morning at five o'clock. We have traveled since my last notes were put down forty miles through a very barren mountainous country, grass being very scarce and water of inferior character, having in it dissolved some alkali substances. The second day or May twenty-eighth, inserting first that the day before we passed several creeks, meeting a most splendid spring at the last, we struck the bluffs near about the forks of the river. The bluffs which I visited this day are mainly composed of sand, likely deposited there by the wind in latter times. The whole bottom along the Platte is mostly sand which in dry season on account of the violent winds which prevail here, nothing being here to break its force, is a great inconvenience to travelers. The Platte river bottom below and above Fort Kearney up to where the road meets with the bluffs, is very little above the level of its waters, varying from five to fifteen feet above that, however, till when you strike the above mentioned point, its altitude is about twenty-five feet.

We met on the latter part of our journey numerous graves of emigrants who had finished their course in nature's garden to adopt new form and shape suiting a different object in nature. The deceased died mostly of cholera and smallpox, more or less originating from an unhealthy diet, bad water and exposure. Good care and observance of physiological laws, however, as I previously mentioned, can considerably alleviate the diseases, if not keep them off altogether, from which cause then, I principally account for the good state of our health.

We are now about crossing the river (the South fork of it) the forks of which we struck a day before this. The river runs in a Southwest direction and is about half a mile wide and very shallow, with quicksand in the bottom. The fordage was of no difficulty to us, the river as first mentioned being very low, and having arrived on its opposite side we pursued our journey in a West-Northwesterly direction toward the Cedar Bluffs. After having the day before stopped about five o'clock at the right of the road, where we met with fairly good grass and water, we traveled the next day, Sunday, the thirtieth, till we reached the point where the road strikes the Bluffs which latter point is about twenty or twenty-five miles from where we crossed the river. Stopped about ten o'clock and encamped to rest ourselves and our cattle for the remainder of the day, which by the hard road and great heat of the past week was very much required to invigorate us for the future. I read several chapters of Byron, but my mind being nearly down to zero on account of the excessive heat, I could not concentrate my spirits enough to follow his violent imagination. Next morning we started early for the Bluffs. The passage of them was very hard on our teams, the weather being very hot and the road being all sand, our wagons cut in very deep and therefore required the hardest pulling to get along. We descended down the other side—a terrible steep road—having traveled about ten miles over the hills and after proceeding ten miles further we encamped nigh the river whirl-pool. Here was a good camping ground, dry and pleasant.

Tuesday we started for Ashes Hollow, being about eighteen miles from our starting place. The road led like the previous days through very sandy regions, the parallel running bluffs offering from the sameness of appearance in stratifications and composition very little attraction to the passing travelers. Two miles this side Ashes Hollow, the road ascends a very steep hill, about sixty feet above the level of the sea, being undoubtedly the hardest hill to pass over we have met up to this on our journey. After having got up to its highest point, the road gradually descends into the hollow which builds with the former a square angle. This valley is about two hundred feet wide, bordered with rocks and fine gravel in its hollow and timbered with ash trees and some wild roses and grapes. A cool spring, unsurpassed in its water by any we have met yet in this territory, is to be found to the right of the creek about a mile from where you first strike it. There we met a kind of trading post where several articles for the remainder of the journey for a reasonable price can be got. We passed on about two miles further from where we left the latter and encamped for the night (June second).

Monday, June 7th. Last week I neglected, not being at leisure in mornings or evenings and too much downspirited at noon, to keep up my journal with the events as I met them, but I shall try to recall in my memory the main objects met with. For two days after we left Ashes Hollow the roads were bad, being very hard on our cattle as well as ourselves. We got along, however, as well as circumstances did permit and after passing several creeks, hove on Friday last towards noon, in sight of Courthouse Rocks, called so by emigrants from a supposed resemblance with the building of that name, but appearing to me, however, more like some ancient castle than the object it is compared with. The rock is about eight miles off the road, a very deceiving distance to the traveler who thinks it only two or three miles off.

Proceeding further, having the Courthouse to our left, and the Platte at our right, the pinnacle of another rock got within the reach of our eye. This is what is called a chimney rock from its great resemblance to some factory chimneys. Although nearly twenty miles away it could distinctly be seen. We traveled on to within about eight miles of it and encamped to the right of the road, nigh the river bank. The next morning we started early. Some of our company went on ahead to ascend the rock. I stayed with the wagon, being not very well on foot, and proceeded slowly on our journey. Chimney rock is about, from its base to its apex, four hundred feet high, consisting of a low and second platform. Upon the latter is the chimney or shaft of the rock nearly one hundred feet high. This rock is principally composed of marl and clay, intermixed with several strata of white cement. Joining the chimney rock, right above it, I beheld a most beautiful sight, being a section of rock of singular construction resembling in its appearance very much some of the scenery along the Rhine. The whole consisted of five rocks, one approaching the form of another smaller chimney and giving with the rest a most grand view, just like an ancient fort of the feudal barons on an average steep ascending hill, with cupola on the top assuming the forms of ruins. Had I the talent of a Byron or the skilled hand of a Raphael I might give an adequate idea of the landscape, but as I am, even common language is wanting to give an appropriate description. I thought it, however, romantic, and truly felt more than my tongue may express. O what a pity it is to be deficient of Brain!

Towards evening we arrived at a trading post, about eight miles before the pass of Scotch Bluffs, and encamped here for the night.

Sunday, set out with a cloudy sky and rain. It soon, however, cleared up and turned into a sunny day. We approached the Scotch Bluffs, which we saw the evening before golden in the light of the setting sun, and our whole attention was attracted by the grandeur of the former, still more beautified by the surrounding country. The appearance of these sand hills, although from far off like solid rock, has a very accurate resemblance to a fortification or stronghold of the feudal barons of the middle age, of which many a reminder is yet to be met with along the bank of the Rhine. The rock itself is separated nearly at its middle, having a pass here about fifty to sixty feet wide, ascending at both sides perpendicular to a height of three hundred to four hundred feet. The passage through here was only made possible in 1851 and is now preferred by nearly all the emigrants, cutting off a piece of eight miles from the old road. We passed through without any difficulty and after having passed another blacksmith shop and trading post, which are very numerous, protection being secured to them by the military down at Fort Laramie, we encamped for the night.

We arrived at Laramie on Tuesday evening, a day sooner than we calculated to get there. The Fort is situated on the Laramie River, which joins with the Platte about two miles below the Fort and about one hundred yards below the bridge for crossing of which we were charged two hundred dollars. The country around the fort is of a pleasing aspect. The bluffs which surround it slope off gradually down into the valley, through which the river of the same name winds in the most lovely curves, whose margins are timbered with a scattered growth of cottonwood and brush of various kinds. The Fort consists of several caserns for the subordinate soldiers, a better building for the captain, a powder and provision magazine, a hospital open to the broken-down travelers who wish to stop there, a good store where all articles a man wants in civilized countries or on the plains can be bought. The garrison disposed here is of a small number—from fifty to one hundred and fifty, which number although small, is sufficient to keep down any unruly spirit among the inhabitants of the soil. After getting a few requisite articles, we started from our encampment near the Fort for the black hills, along which the road runs on towards the Rocky Mountains.

The scenery, after passing the Fort and proceeding a few miles up the river, assumes quite a different aspect from that which we have passed before the Fort. The monotony of the prairie land disappears, and a varied highland scenery is offered to the traveler. The road leads generally over the bluffs at an average height of about seventy to one hundred feet above the bed of the Platte and in advancing approaches sometimes towards the Southwestern mountain chain with the Laramie Peak, whose summit is six thousand feet above the sea and covered with snow throughout the greater part of the year. This mountain can be seen at a distance of one hundred miles. We have first sight of it at the Scotch Bluff, distant about that far from it. Cones or little craters form the bulk of the mountain and give it a romantic appearance. The Platte River above the Fort Laramie takes a different appearance from its lower course. The low fertile land through which it runs for nearly seven hundred to eight hundred miles to its mouth, is changed into a highland scene. Its course is rapid and cut through the solid granite rocks which must have taken many a century to open such passes and to such an extent as we met in this part of our journey. The beauty of the mountain chain is greatly increased by the scattered trees of cedar and pine and by the interruption of numerous streams which are bordered with a most beautiful growth of cottonwoods and other trees.

June twelfth. We left the river about noon and ascended for the whole afternoon up the highest bluffs on our advance. We got considerably molested by the wind which blew right in our faces and darkened them with sand. Meeting a spring up near the highest point of ascent we stopped for the night. Next morning started for the descent. The Blackhill road comes in from where the road commences taking down to the bottom. We passed the LePonds River, at the foot of the bluffs, a very nice stream, beautifully treed with cottonwood. About four miles forwards on the road we passed another creek called by its red bank, Red Bank. The whole country around is a red stratified rock of the same kind—being iron ore.

June fourteenth. We drove about ten miles to-day, passed several new graves, and crossed three small creeks. Toward evening we encamped two miles up the Little Deer Creek to rest our cattle, as well as ourselves, and prepare for ascending the Rocky Mountains. I read several pages of geology treating of the different classes of rocks, their respective composition, position and the circumstances under which the process of protrusion and stratification took place.

The fifteenth. Some of our men killed various kinds of game on the bluffs with which we quite prepared us a feast adequate to all luxuries we ever had at home.

June the sixteenth. We took a new start this morning for the future of our journey. Leaving Little Deer Creek, we struck, after having met with the main road, the river, along the banks of which we passed all day and towards evening encamped within reach of it. We passed Big Deer Creek about noon; the country around, although the stream is of quiet romantic beauty, is very barren, offering but little pasture to the emigrants' teams.

June the seventeenth. This morning we started for the ferry, twenty-seven miles above Big Deer Creek. We arrived at the river about noon and got across again three or four o'clock in the afternoon, where we left the other side for the bluffs and encamped about four miles onwards on the road from the Platte. The ferry at this place is carried on with flat boats which are fastened to ropes spread across the river. The current carries them from one shore to the other. The following day we started very early in the morning, ascended Rattlesnake Hills, very rocky, and pursued our journey this day through an extremely barren section of country, the soil being mainly sand without any good water and grass. At Willow Springs twenty-six miles above the Platte ferry we arrived towards evening and put up for the night.

Not having any grass at all we started very early next morning intending to stop wherever any pasture could be found. Meeting the object of our wishes, we grazed the cattle for several hours. Ponds with alkali water being about, several of our cattle got to drink, and shortly after our start, several got to be very sick, the alkali beginning to operate. We gave some of them fat bacon and some vinegar to neutralize the alkali, which had the best wished effects.

The country passed over to-day is very sandy and dry, offering nothing hardly to the passing emigrants. The hills which range along this part are called Blue Hills, probably from the growth of pines with which they are planted.

Sunday, June the twentieth. Proceeding onwards, we came to the Indian Dance Rock, called so by Colonel Fremont in 1847. This rock is a huge pile of granite about half a mile in circumference and one hundred-fifty feet high. Its sides are decorated with numerous names of emigrants who passed them since '49. The road leads to the left of the rock along the river and crosses it about one and one-half miles from the said rock. Five miles onwards, passing over a very sandy road, we arrived at Devil's Gate, a precipice between the perpendicular walls of which the Sweetwater passed. This is undoubtedly the most interesting sight to the attentive traveler, made so by the profound deepness of the pass and the stratÆ of ancient rocks laid open to the view of the naturalist. The rocks here are piled up in a strange chaos, consisting of primary (hypogene) rocks turned up on their edges in a nearly perpendicular position, intermixed with others in a horizontal and vertical position. The descent of this rock is, on account of its steepness, very difficult and connected with considerable danger. Too great precaution can't be taken by explorers. The river undergoes a fall of nearly ten or twelve feet, the water running very rapidly in its onward bound course. The road from here leads more or less along the river for twenty-five miles, where it separates in two, one crossing the river and the other takes over the bluffs. This latter road is extremely sandy and as heavy a pull for cattle as any part of the road we have passed. Teams that have not been taken proper care of, generally are lessened here by several of them breaking down by fatigue and feebleness.

Traveling onwards we struck the river and passed along it for two miles where we ascended the bluffs again. Viewing the surrounding country, we discovered on the edges of the horizon a very large snow clad mountain, its summit nearly hid in the clouds, and its sides shining in a bedazzling luster.

June the twenty-third. Rain setting in through the night, we were obliged to take a very early start. The alkali, with which the ground was covered, being dissolved by the water, might, if drunk by the cattle, have some very serious effect. Passing the bluffs, nothing of note happened, and after fourteen miles traveling, we arrived at the river banks, where we stopped to feed our cattle and took our own repast. Pasture being very gloomy here, we left for our afternoon's journey. After crossing the river we ascended a very steep hill, very stony and barren ground, the road leading down towards the river, where it turns at nearly a square angle, and ascends another very steep hill. The descent here is very rapid and slopes off into the Sweetwater Valley. Pursuing our course upwards, we met with some good pasture where we stopped and encamped for the night.

June the twenty-fifth. Having enjoyed a good night's rest and taken a good repast, we started with our cattle pretty well filled for the bluffs. This mountain, or rather tableland, about three to four hundred feet above the level of the river or six to seven thousand feet above the level of the sea, is principally composed of aqueous rocks of tertiary formation, sand and gravel, which are turned up here in vertical position, the upturned edges giving evidence of volcanic action. The road over this rock, of course, is very stony and hard, difficult to pass over for the cattle. We struck a branch of the Sweetwater this side the bluffs, about fifteen miles from where we ascended them. The weather to-day is very unpleasant, heavy and cold showers drenching us several times. Meeting with no grass up to our usual stopping time, we drove on till late trying to make the river, where we expected to meet with some good pasture. At our arrival there we found the prospects as poor as previously met with. Stopped, however, and the next morning crossed for the last time the Sweetwater.

The weather to-day, although the road led us through hills covered with snow, was fair and warm, and the contrast or change it was from yesterday, made the travelers the more sensitive to it. We arrived at the South pass about noon and stopped to take dinner at the Pacific Springs. The pass goes through the mountain gradually so that when the traveler arrives at this point he hardly feels satisfied with the reality. The country along here is extremely poor. No grass, and even good water is scarce. The road ascends again this side the springs, and continues hilly for about eighteen miles, when it separates in two branches, the Mormon road going off in a South, Southwest, the California road in a nearly due West direction. Our wagons arriving at the fork, struck without any previous consultation with the company, the Mormon road. Proceeding onwards we forded the Little Sandy, nine miles off the fork and eight and one-half miles further onwards the Big Sandy—both pleasant streams with a lovely growth of willows and cottonwood. We encamped this side the bank of the latter stream where there was good pasture for our cattle and all necessaries for our own comfort.

June twenty-sixth. This day being Sunday and one man in our company being sick and in rather poor condition to travel, we stayed all day and recruited ourselves and our oxen. Nothing happened throughout the day except that several of the Snake Indians caught squirrels about our neighborhood and paid us a short visit. Towards evening, read several passages out of the Bible and argued about the vulgar sentiment and language used in many places.

Monday morning, started stout and hearty on our journey and have just arrived again after passing over about eighteen miles of highland to the Big Sandy. There we strike this stream for the last time and are making now for Green River, ten miles further onwards. About five miles from our starting point the road forks. The upper road is called Kiney's cut off and joins with Sapplett's cut off. The lower branch strikes the Green River, which is on account of its extreme swiftness very hard to cross. The fording of this river is, by a good ferry carried on by Mormons, very much facilitated. Emigrants crossing here at the beginning of the California emigration had a great deal of trouble to get their stock across—numbers of them lost their lives and stock both.

Green River leads into the Rocky Mountains and numerous tributaries are flowing into it on its Southwesterly course where it pours its waters into the Colorado. The river is about one hundred and fifty yards wide and considerably deep; its water is very cold from its snowy origin and runs at the rate of five to eight miles an hour. We forded the river on the morning of the twenty-ninth and followed down along its banks for eight miles in a Southeastern direction. Took then the bluffs and traveled on Southwards for about five miles where we encamped near a branch of the river with plenty of grass. Although snow clad mountains bordered the horizon in the South the weather was extremely warm and what made it still more burdensome were the myriads of mosquitoes which molested us very much, yes extremely so.

Next morning we traveled onwards five miles from our last camping ground and crossed a branch of the Green River, on the other side of which we took the bluffs, descending several times into valleys where the river pursued his ocean-bound course. After striking the river the last time about ten miles from where we passed the branch we ascended again and traveled on in a Southwest direction. Meeting a small stream of water here about five miles distant from where we left the river, we encamped for the night.

July first. Left this encampment after having put in a horrible night with mosquitoes, bound for Fort Bridger, twenty miles from this spot. The road along this distance is hilly and stony, pasture and water scarce, scenery poor up to where we have sight of the Fort which is located in a beautiful valley and named for this reason the Garden of the Mountains. From here the road gradually ascends a ridge and on the latter, about five miles this side the Fort, we encamped for the night. Cedar trees growing spontaneously here, we had plenty wood for cooking use and good pasture for the cattle.

The road from now covers very hilly country over high ridges and deep valleys with very steep ascents and descents, therefore very hard for our teams. Proceeding onwards we met some most lovely and beautiful sights of natural beauty and but the hum of rural life would be necessary to make it a second Eden. To give an adequate idea of the beauty of this country none but a Byron or some other passionate writer can do. I, however, add that the high going sea appears to have the most resemblance to this interrupted bottom. The soil which covers the most of these mountains is very spontaneous (fertile), the most so in the bottoms. The mountains themselves are a deposit of water, the greatest number of them lately by their abrupt form and to my view are gravity rocks, cemented together by some binding matter. The formations of many of these rocks offer quite a picturesque view as we pass by. Caves and tunnels of all shapes are carved into them by the dissolving power of water. Towards noon to-day after having passed many ups and downs, we arrived at the highest point between the States and Salt Lake. The height of this ridge is seven thousand, seven hundred feet above the level of the sea and is the dividing ridge between the Colorado and the water of the great basin. From this point on we descended more or less and having arrived in the valley we traveled on about sixteen miles to the Sulphur Springs where we encamped for the night.

Next day our road continued over the same interrupted ground. About two miles from our last camp forwards on the road we arrived at Bear River which we crossed with some difficulty and went on to Echo Creek meeting on our road some Indians who traded us venison for powder and beads. Here we stopped for the night and after we got our breakfast next morning, July the fourth, we followed the river down twenty miles, crossing it seventeen times in this distance. This valley along which the road leads is very narrow bordered on both sides with high mountains of gravelly composition closely cemented together. The valley runs in a nearly Southern direction and runs on to where Echo Creek joins the Webber River, a stream about the size of Bear River. We crossed the river Sunday towards evening and went onwards several miles of nearly steady descent from the top of a hill which we had previously ascended to a creek along which we traveled about twelve miles crossing it thirteen times—crossings very bad. After we had the last crossing we commenced to climb a very difficult ascent. At the top of the latter, four miles from the base to the high point, the road leads down hill again. Echo Creek which heads on this side of the mountains runs on to the city. The road leads alongside of it, crossing it some twenty times. We traveled on till three o'clock when we struck the foot of a mountain three miles this side of town and encamped for the night.

The Salt Lake Valley is built by high mountains whose summits reach into the clouds, forming with its craggy sides a picturesque and, joined with the beauty of the valley, a lovely scene. The valley is thirty miles wide and some seventy-five to one hundred miles long. Within its mountainous enclosure it contains some of the most fertile and beautiful country ever looked on by men. The Salt Lake which stretches along the Valley on the North side helps to beautify the scene. Beside this is the town itself which is laid out in practical lots consisting in a house and garden lot, the latter for agricultural purposes. The houses, about one thousand in number, are built of mud, dried in the sun and are in every way like the houses in the States. The people to the number of about six thousand living in the city and about four thousand in different counties of the valley are Mormons. Although their creed contains a great many foolish things, they have in some of their social arrangements the advantage over us and the traveler passing through Salt Lake Valley and seeing everything working harmoniously together as nature itself cannot help but think them, more so, if he looks upon the crops which nature spontaneously produces here, a happy and nearly independent people. One of the precepts of their faith, Polygamy, although generally used as a reproach to them, I personally admit as a true natural one, being consistent with nature. Having supplied ourselves with a few more necessaries for the remainder of the trip and some little repairing done to our teams, we left the city intending to stop at some good pasture place in the valley. On the road which runs on along through town towards the North we met with the Hot Spring at the left of the road. This Spring comes out of the surrounding mountains, being of nearly boiling heat and containing in it diluted a high percentage of sulphur.

The weather to-day is very hot and oppressive, being the more burdensome on account of my not being well, having previously been weakened by sickness. Eight miles from here, to the left we espied good grass and a stream of water, where we encamped and stopped there for the next two days. While lying here I took sick again, being a relapse of my former illness of dysentery. In applying though some of Dr. Dickson's pills and some other strong mixture besides this, I stopped it and I am fully convinced to-day that by paying a little precaution to diet I shall get well and strong again.

We left our camp on Saturday, the tenth day of July, traveling along a high mountain range through the valley for about sixteen miles, crossing in this distance several small creeks bordered with willows and aspens. A great part of the country is well cultivated and loaded with a heavy crop of wheat, some corn and luxurious meadows, the latter rivalling any I ever saw before in any country. This evening we encamped at a small streamlet about twenty-five miles from the city. Grass very scarce, all other things however easy to be got. From houses being about here, we had plenty of milk and butter.

Sunday the eleventh. Started late, many of the company having not got used to our former speedy proceeding yet. Drove over some sandy roads through desert country to the Webber river, which we had crossed just a week ago in its upper course. The river being in a low state, we forded it ourselves without any difficulty and stopped three miles on the other side of it, where we caught up with a wagon of our company that had left us at the city.

Monday, July the twelfth. This morning the road led through brush and high grass onto a second bank along which we travelled the whole day, passing numerous farms on the lower side of the road and crossing several creeks in the latter part of the day. To the right of the road runs a mountain chain about one thousand to one thousand five hundred feet above the level of the lake, its sides as well as summit ornamented with a lovely growth of cedars and some of its crevices filled with snow. This evening we struck camp three miles this side of Grazing Creek where we laid till next morning to proceed no further on our journey.

This day, the road crossed several creeks, the first, Grazing, and five miles onward from this, Box Elder—further on, several small creeks and springs so that we had abundance of water all day. At Box Elder, we left the settlement, and pursued our course again on the Desert where our former contest with hardships and privations began from now on for the remaining journey. We traveled to-day twenty miles from Willow Creek and encamped at a Spring five miles this side of Bear River. This stream we crossed next day early in the morning paying four hundred dollars ferriage and proceeded onwards. From here we had as hard times as we ever saw on the plains arising from our want of good water for thirty-six miles which latter circumstance with the extreme heat was very hard on us and the cattle. We arrived at the end of the above mentioned distance about noon the next day at Hensols Spring where we stopped and refreshed ourselves with some good cold water. The road along this distance leads over a very hilly and dry country which on this latter account disappoints the choking emigrant extremely, expecting at every roll to have in sight some fountain to revive the exhausted energies.

Six miles further we struck Deep Creek, running on the North side of the valley until where the road strikes the valley, where it turns toward the South and about six miles downward it sinks in the ground. At this place, called Deep Creek Sink we arrived next day and our cattle being worked down and their feet being sore, the company again decided to stay here and rest them as well as recruit ourselves somewhat.

July sixteenth. We left our last encampment at the sink and proceeded downwards for the Pilot Springs where we intended to water the cattle. The country begins here to get poorer, pasture becoming extremely scarce now, hardly to be found on creeks and around slews and then only a good way up or down stream.

Seventeen miles from Deep Creek Sink at some Springs in the side of a hill we met with good pasture and although still early in the day, we stopped there and lay till morning. Cedar trees and sage bushes are all the vegetation to be seen in this region and the journey on this account is monotonous and tiresome. The road from here takes over a hill from which can be seen for the last time the Salt Lake with its blue waters and its mountain high islands which with the surrounding hills offers quite a picturesque view to the observer.

About eight miles from Mountain Springs onwards we came to Stony Creek, a mountain stream whose water is more or less made up of melted snow and ice and is very cold, therefore very much relished by travelers. From Stony Creek to the Casus Creek, distant about eight miles, the country continues very poor having nothing but wild sage and cedars on the bluffs. Casus Creek is a small stream bordered like all the creeks in this country with willows, the latter from the thick bunches in which they stand, a hiding place to the Indians. Pasture along this Creek is plenty, therefore good camping here. The road follows up the Creek about eight miles and crosses it in this distance three times, the middle ford being considerable miry when we passed.

Leaving Casus Creek the road ascends gradually towards a high situated point about five miles, where it joins with the cut off roads, three hundred and seventy miles West from the forks of the main road.

Coming up towards the summit of the hill we hove in sight of the City Rocks, being numerous rocks of all sizes and shapes piled up so on the slope of a mountain towards North West which resembled in appearance a city at a distance built on the side of a hill. From here the road descends down into a valley about five or six miles long with several small creeks which were, however, dry when we passed them. Ascending the hills on the West side of the valley we met with some water to the left, running down parallel with the road, and traveling on a mile further struck its head, consisting of several good cold springs. Next morning we started on our road which on account of many sliding rocks was very difficult and extremely hard on cattle. These hills are called Gooth Creek Mountains, running along a stream called the same name. Their forms and shapes are very various and mostly composed of aqueous rocks in parallel stratas. Five miles traveling over this interrupted ground brought us into the Gooth Creek Valley which we followed up eighteen miles—the roads good and grass plenty. The valley along the upper course of the Gooth Creek narrows; the mountains forming the valley are steep and composed of some granular gravel. Small sharp edged rocks are scattered all along the road and are very hard on cattles' feet.

At the head of Gooth Creek we met a good spring coming out from under the rocks. The water is cold and the weather being very hot we relished it very much. From here the road leaves the Gooth Creek Valley and continues over a mountainous, rocky and very barren country to the Rock Spring Valley. At the head of it to the right are several cold springs coming like the one spring at the head of Gooth Creek from under a rocky ledge. Grass around this spring is little or none. Following the road, however, for about four miles further, grass became plentiful and more so toward the head of the valley. Crossing several ridges, we descended into Thousand Spring Valley, so called in consequence of the numerous Springs some of very high temperature; others are mere cold wells of considerable depth. The road leads here along the valley ten miles and pasture was real good.

July the twenty-fourth. Friend and companion Logan died this morning at five o'clock. Logan, a partner in our team, took sick very suddenly about noon this day about two miles this side Hot Springs. Driving on some few miles after noon, the disease came on in a very serious manner so that we were obliged to stop and camp. His strength failed rapidly and cramps in all his parts caused him very aggravating pains. Getting worse and worse and medical help having no effect on him we finally concluded that although unsuspected and however sudden he would go home to his Father. Living on till sunrise next day, he died about five o'clock in the morning after a sickness of seventeen hours. This then is human life—to live, to eat, to propagate and die. We, from this eventful place which we left after interring the deceased, proceeded over a long ridge which, sloping upon the other side and ascending again, gradually descended, taking us a stretch of twenty miles into the Humbolt Valley, the mountains of the same name being in view covered with the everlasting snows. We followed down the valley about eighteen miles and camped on the North Branch of Mary's River about three miles from where we forded it.

July twenty-sixth. The road from the ford of the North Branch runs along a beautiful valley to where it joins the South Fork of Mary's River, twenty miles below the above mentioned point. Grass along this valley is more plentiful than any other place we found along the whole route. The water, although not very cool, is good. From the junction of the two forks, another valley commences, the river following it down for twenty-eight miles. At this point the road leaves the river for the bluffs after having previously come to the forks of the road, crossed the river four times within six miles and followed it down about ten miles further to a small tributary of Mary's River.

From here when we started early next morning, we had to travel over a section of mountains pretty steep and stony. Descending on the other side of these hills we met with several good springs on the road side and finally after a tedious forenoon's drive we struck the river again twenty miles from where we left it last. The roads along here being very sandy and so many teams passing ours it raises any amount of dust which is very disagreeable to emigrants and hard on cattle. We followed the river for four miles when, finding good grass, we camped for the night. Twenty miles further down stream the main road takes to the right over the bluffs, another road crosses the river and follows down on the South side. The latter road is preferred in low water, being the best and shortest as well as having most grass on this side of Humbolt. About forty miles onwards where we forded the stream it—the road—takes up over a rough hill leaving the river at the ascent and coming to it again at the descent, about two miles distant.

August the second. From this point the road takes over a hill about five miles long when it descends into the valley again. Pasture along here is poor, the bottom being mostly over-grown with sage. Although grass is scarce, for the whole journey the careful emigrants can always find sufficient feed for their cattle.

The road follows down the valley in a parallel direction with the river for about twenty miles where it turns on an obtuse angle and runs off in a Southwest direction. Here the road takes over low sandy hills and along the banks of the river alternately. Twenty miles from our starting point, we encamped on the river banks.

August the fifth. Ascended a hill about one-half mile on from our camp, pretty steep and sandy. The road continues this way all along for about twenty miles more where it takes the bluffs for eighteen miles through a sandy desert about three or four miles parallel with the river. In the evening after a hard day's drive, we struck the river but did not meet with any grass which our starved animals badly needed. The following day we ascended the bluffs again for another eighteen miles desert having no grass nor water for the teams. Leaving, however, the main road and taking towards the river we got near enough to water our cattle, after which we drove on about four miles further and struck the river again finding tolerable good grass. Next day we started for the meadows and sink of Humbolt River. The distance to the former being about fifteen miles, roads bad, both sandy and hilly, no grass between, river handy enough in some places to water the stock.

Saturday evening we arrived at the meadows, our teams weakened from want of grass and several days' hard pulling. From here to the edge of the desert it is about twenty-five miles which we made in three days, recruiting our stock, making grass and taking on water.

Thursday afternoon, about three o'clock, we started with seven head of cattle and one horse, all of them in fair condition, for the desert—a distance of forty miles without water and grass, hilly and sandy roads. Thousands of dead cattle were lying along this road which had gone out at the previous emigration. One of our oxen gave out, detaining us for several hours. Slaying the latter however, we arrived safe although a very close call at Carson River. Here people from California have put up their shops, having liquor and fixtures for sale for the emigrants at high prices. Grass being scarce here we started up the river about five miles. Being about camping time and our cattle very tired we stopped for the night.

From here we started the next morning having about five miles ahead a desert of thirteen miles. Before we started into the latter, we stopped and fed the teams for a few hours, then started on the said desert and the footers, among which I was, traveled up along the river, being higher and more pleasant than the main road. At the point where the latter strikes the river again we found good company which induced us to stop for the night, grass for our stock being plenty. From here the road takes over the bluffs, being sandy again as the day before and the country as poor as the deserts. Twelve miles' traveling took us to the river where we stopped and nooned. From here the road gets to be stony and sidling, hard on wagons and teams, leading over undulating ground all along. About twenty-five miles further ahead the road takes over a hill, a perfect desert. To the left of this is mining carried on in a Canyon. Although it does not pay as well as some mines in California, still it allows fair wages to the diggers. Some of us, among them myself, would have stopped and dug here but for certain bondages which we could not get rid of without injuring our pecuniary interest.

The distance here from the river to it again is thirteen miles, roads tolerably good. In the afternoon of this day (Sunday) we traveled over another sandy plain to the river, eight miles, where we camped over night and started Monday morning all hearty and well. During the day's travel we passed a good many trading posts, crossing numerous mountain streams with good cold water. Grass along here is plenty so that stock as well as men do well in this valley. Another day's travel will take us to the foot of the Canyon which we ascend to take us to Hope Valley. To-day at noon we arrived within a few miles of the Canyon where we stopped for noon. Leaving this place we intend to ascend the ravine in the afternoon.

We took into the Canyon on the morning of the eighteenth and ascending it we met the worst road on the whole route being both rocky and steep and extremely hard on cattle and wagons. The whole Canyon is sown with rocks (metamorphic species) thrown there in chaos by volcanic eruption and offers to the travelers with its steep pine clad mountains one of those grand scenes of nature which are only met with in mountainous or volcanic countries. Five or eight miles of the hardest traveling brought us into Hope Valley at the other side of the Canyon which we followed up to where the road takes the hills again and finding at this point some excellent pasture we encamped.

We left our last night's camp where we suffered considerably by the cold and started to ascend the first of the mountains of the Nevada. The ascent is gradual for several miles till the road comes to red rock where it takes a sudden ascent for about one-half mile being very steep and rocky and undoubtedly constitutes with the yesterday's passed Canyon the greater part of the elephant which will be finished tomorrow by the steepest and highest ascent of the Sierra Nevada. Up this mountain we doubled teams and our wagons being light we arrived safely at the summit about seven thousand feet above the level of the sea. Grass being scarce here we descended about four miles on the other side of the mountain into a valley where we found some good feed along the lake shore.

August twentieth. Started for the ascent of the last and highest mountain of the Sierra Nevada, taking first over a mountain of five hundred to one thousand feet in height which brought us to the foot of the last mountain, we began our ascent, but though it was very stony and high, we had less difficulty in passing over it than the one we ascended the day before. I myself arrived at the summit about ten o'clock where I disposed of our horse which had caused me a good deal of trouble. This done I took a view of the country around me. I always fancied to myself that the beauties of the mountainous countries were grand and sublime but never could I fully imagine such a vast and chaotic beautiful scene as I found here. The whole mountains are made up of metamorphic rocks, thrown here by volcanic causes. The mountains which extend around you, standing at the summit to the edge of the horizon are interrupted by alpine valleys filled with beautiful meadows and lakes of cold mountain water which help to make the grand scene of the mountains lovely and rural to the observer.

We passed over the summit and drove on this day over mountain ridges and encamped at night at about the same level as we traveled over in the afternoon, finding some grass and water on the mountain side.

The following day took up the fork of the road, the one to the right taking to Hangtown, the left hand one to Volcano. The distance from the fork to the latter place is about thirty-five miles, very hilly and extremely dusty, grass and water scarce—from ten to twenty miles apart in the valleys.

We arrived at Volcano August twenty-third and sold our stock the next day for the sum of three hundred dollars, making my share with our previous receipt for horse and one yoke of cattle, eighty-seven dollars and subtracting this from the whole of my expense leaves me ninety dollars debit to the journey.

At Volcano is the first mining district met this side the Nevada and provisions being tolerable cheap and some of the digging middling favourable some five of us concluded to stay here a while and try our luck.

Sunday, August twenty-ninth. We went to work the second day from our arrival and sunk a shaft from ten to twelve feet deep at which depth we struck a lead paying us about eight to ten cents to the ton. Water which we happened to strike got to be very troublesome, keeping us back considerably in our proceeding to get out the pay dirt for washing. All we earned up to the present is about four dollars. We calculate however to make more next week if we keep on at work steady and keep our health. [1]

[1] Evidently a journal was kept during eighteen hundred and fifty-three which has been lost.