William Hayes Chamberlin (1828-1876) left Lewisburg, Pennsylvania, in 1849 to see his fortune in California. His diary (below) provides a vivid account of the long and difficult journey, offering a unique glimpse into the experiences of a Forty-Niner. Through his words, we can follow his path across the continent – from the familiar hills of Pennsylvania to the gold fields and new opportunities of the American west.
William Hayes Chamberlin is not in my direct line. He was the nephew of Moses Chamberlin on my husband’s side.
Birth
William was born March 14, 1828, and died August 10, 1876 in Danville, Pennsylvania.
Marriage
He married Emily Berryhill Beaver on January 01, 1863, daughter of Thomas Beaver and Elizabeth Wilkins. She was born October 04, 1840, and died July 31, 1899 in Atlantic City New Jersey.
Children
Children of William Chamberlin and Emily Beaver are:
- Jesse Chamberlin, b. March 06, 1864; d. July 09, 1869, Danville, Pennsylvania.
- William Beaver Chamberlin, b. August 02, 1865; m. Alice Leslie Rea, December 16, 1891, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania; b. January 26, 1865.
- Thomas Beaver Chamberlin, b. October 12, 1866; d. May 05, 1867.
- John Beaver Chamberlin, b. June 09, 1868; d. September 09, 1868.
- Elizabeth Chamberlin, b. June 04, 1870; m. Joseph Seaman Lockwood, January 01, 1903; b. San Antonio, Texas.
- Mary Chamberlin, b. August 08, 1871; m. Oliver Hart Bronson, May 26, 1909, “Devon” Torresdale, PA.
- Emily Chamberlin, b. October 25, 1872; m. G. P. Marquis, December 06, 1899; b. Chicago, Illinois.
- Laura Chamberlin, b. May 10, 1875; m. William DeWolf Dimock, April 21, 1898, 3905 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia, PA; b. Bristol, RI.
The Gold Rush Journal
In 1849, William Hayes Chamberlin was one of many seduced by the idea of gold in California. He set out on the journey, taking the southern route, and kept a journal. Parts or all of it was published in the Lewisburg Chronicle (Lewisburg, PA) newspaper in 1851. I have a typed copy handed down through the family. I do not know the location of the original journal, or even if it still exists.
Publication
1849
Along the journey, William send letters back to the local paper, the Lewisburg Chronicle (although Chamberlin’s typescript makes no reference to this).
1851
1921
The journal was published in sections in the Lewisburgh Saturday News from August 9, 1902 to January 17, 1903. The Saturday News series resulted in some letters to the editor from folks who recalled the party leaving Lewisburg in February 1849. (Thanks to Richard A. Sauers for this info.)
1945
The diary was apparently later published in the Lewisburg Chronicle as well. Marc Simmons, author of A 49er crosses New Mexico, wrote in 2016 that, “In 1935 New Mexico historian Lansing B. Bloom visited J.V. Chamberlin at his ranch outside of Estancia. He was the nephew of William Chamberlin and gave to Bloom a series of 1902 newspaper clippings of the 49er’s log book or diary.” In 1945, the diary was edited by L. B. Bloom and published in the New Mexico Historical Review under the title “From Lewisburg to California in 1849: Notes from the Diary of William H. Chamberlin.” It is now available online at archive.org. (Bibliographical reference: Bloom, L. B. ed. “From Lewisburg to California in 1849: Notes from the Diary of William H. Chamberlin.” New Mexico Historical Review, 20(2), 1945, p.144-180.)
1966
Journal of the Lycoming Historical Society, Summer 1966, “To the West for Gold: Notes of an 1849 Journey to California.” It reproduces a substantial part of the journal beginning with his departure from Lewisburg on February 26, 1849.
1981
In 1981, Williams, great-grandson, Alexander Rea Chamberlin (1921-2007), copied the journal and gave it to the Huntingdon Library in California. Presumably, his descendants are still in possession of the original. There are two volumes: the first is a facsimile copy of the original journal as well as facsimile copies of the journal as it was printed in the Lewisburg, Pennsylvania newspaper, Chronicle, in 1849 and 1850. The volume also contains later entries from a diary Chamberlin kept in 1853 to 1857 while living in California. These entries also include a trip Chamberlin took back East by ship. While in New Orleans he makes several specific comments on the slaves he sees. The second volume is a typed copy of Chamberlin’s journal. These volumes are in the manuscript collection at the Huntington Library.
1995
Excerpts from William’s diary appear in the George M. Ellis, ed., Gold Rush Desert Trails to San Diego and Los Angeles in 1849, San Diego Corral of the Westerners, 1995. Chamberlin’s section is “Lewisburg to Los Angeles in 1849: The Diary of William H. Chamberlin,” pp. 47–62.
2016
In 2016, renowned New Mexico historian Marc Simmons published “A 49er Crosses New Mexico: The Journal of William Hayes Chamberlin,” a historical nonfiction book “chronicling an overland pioneer’s 1849 journey through the American Southwest. Marc Simmons utilized his lifetime expertise on the Santa Fe Trail to annotate the text, adding geographical context and historical explanations to Chamberlin’s raw descriptions of mid-19th-century New Mexico settlements. The work captures rare primary-source perspectives on local Hispanic and Native cultures, desert survival, and the stark realities faced by gold-seekers before reaching California.”
Easterner felt 1849 Santa Fe had ‘somber appearance’ by Marc Simmons Feb 5, 2016. Updated Feb 8, 2016. Worth a look for the wonderful historical photographs of early Santa Fe, New Mexico.
Overview
My aunt, who has a PHD in history, read and evaluated the diary in 2007. Here are her observations.
William H. Chamberlin. “Notes of a Seven Months Journey to California, via Fort Smith, Sante Fe, Gila River, and the Tule Lakes, From the Private Journal kept by Wm. H. Chamberlin, of Lewisburg, Pennsylvania. Copy of typescript, 150p. This is a reminiscence written later from a diary written during their journey.
Chamberlin turned 21 years old during his journey to the gold diggings. He was articulate, obviously educated, a moderately religious Methodist (I think). He was sincere, methodical, introspective and philosophical. He was very detailed in his keen observations of plants, soils, trees, flowers. He included the names of his fellow travelers. Their outfit was organized and stayed safe. He meticulously listed prices and costs of equipment and food. He hunted large and small game across the continent. Only twice did he write in his journal that he’d done his laundry, and both times were early in the trek. At times they took the longer, wrong route, having to cut their own trail. Nevertheless, he and the men he traveled with were compatible and even-tempered, except when near-starvation added to their stress. Near the end of the journey, especially in California, they were desperately out of food and water. Several times he was sick, but apparently to no long-lasting effect. A toothache worried him now and then. He mused on the future of cities, business opportunities, farming production, progress in California. He was generally distasteful of Indian culture as he experienced it and didn’t have much of a positive opinion of the Mexicans. He observed black slaves being sold and found that repugnant. He arrived in California sick, nearly starved, and was unsuccessful in finding gold.
From the outset, the reader realizes that this diary is something special. One learns a host of details of the journey. Unlike some Gold Rush diaries written by easterners, Chamberlin rarely uses irony, cynicism toward others, or self-effacing jokes. He did not encounter highly unusual situations during his journey—most travelers also suffered deprivation, bad weather, mule and wagon problems, hunger, illness, thirst. Only once or twice did he reveal the personalities of his traveling companions, or those in other outfits. Chamberlin did include interesting notes about Indians, slave auctions, and a few stellar observations of other travelers that crossed his path. Many times he met up with the ill-fated Knickerbocker Company, but did not devote much description to them. His journal rarely reveals his deepest feelings—some 49ers wax on about leaving behind their loved ones, moan about their discomfort, complain about their fellow travelers.
I have read about 2,000 19-century emigrant diaries—few, though of the Southern Route along the Gila River—and would place this diary in the top 10 percent. His strongest points are his intelligence and observation of detail. But (un)fortunately, his trek was not that unusual so there is little new to discover in its pages. Finally, he wrote only occasional quotable tidbits–and included little irony–that historians love to collect.
Significance
J. Orin Oliphant writes in On the Arkansas Route to California in 1849; The Journal of Robert B. Green of Lewisburg, Pennsylvania (Lewisburg, Pa.: Bucknell University Press, 1955. p. 87):
Many routes were used by the tens of thousands of persons who headed for California in 1849, and one of the less frequently used was the Arkansas Route. It was not only less popular than others, but few journals remain to tell the story… Three of the men in the little party of six who set out from Lewisburg late in February, 1849, left some written record of their experiences. William H. Chamberlin made the most complete record of the adventures of this small group of men. He had some literary skill and had agreed before departing to send letters back to the local paper, the Lewisburg Chronicle. In addition, his diary was later published in the same newspaper… Robert B. Green… kept a day to day record of the trip, the most complete of the three, in terms of daily entries, but it was never revised.
References to Chamberlin’s Diary by Other Authors
- Quotes from Chamberlin’s diary can be found in Gold Rush Desert Trails to San Diego and Los Angeles in 1849. (Edited by George M. Ellis. San Diego, CA: Brand Book Number Nine, San Diego Corral of the Westerners, 1995.)
- L.S.M. [Leonora Scott Muse] Curtin quotes Chamberlin in By the Prophet of the Earth: Ethnobotany of the Pima. Tuscon, The University of Arizona Press, 1984.
- Tom L. McKnight, in “The Feral Horse in Anglo-America” Geographical Review, Vol. 49, No. 4 (Oct., 1959), pp. 506-525 quotes Chamberlin’s reference to the disruptive mustangs he came across in 1849.
- Q. David Bowers in The History of the Gold Rush as illustrated by treasures from the S.S. Central America. Newport Beach, CA, The California Gold Marketing Group, 2002. It’s about the greatest gold coin and ingot treasure ever found, the saga of the S.S. Central America, and the tale of the recovery of the long-lost ship. Profusely illustrated. Here is Bowers’ reference:
In his diary William H. Chamberlin, a roving Forty Niner traveling by mule, relates that only two days from the river he and his companions began to suffer the trials of water deprivation. As they navigated through the desert sea they found themselves at a location described as: “A perfect Golgotha. The bones of thousands of animals lie strewed about in every direction, and a great number of horses and mules that have died lately, pollute the atmosphere. Deserted wagons, harness, saddles, etc., add to the destructive and sickening scene.”
Chamberlain noted that his own group was “very poorly supplied with suitable water vessels,” and had it not been for the wet season “hundreds of emigrants must have perished.” The rains flooded seasonal waterways such as the New River, which flowed north from Mexico into the California desert. This particular stream is one of the more curious in the district—for in some accounts over years it is not mentioned at all, for there was no water, no river. In other accounts, there was difficulty in fording it!
Another Gold Rush Diary: Robert B. Green, in Chamberlin’s Party
On the Arkansas Route to California in 1849. The Journal of Robert B. Green of Lewisburg, Pennsylvania. Edited by J. Orin Oliphant. (Lewisburg, Pa.: Bucknell University Press, 1955. Pp. 87.)
Many routes were used by the tens of thousands of persons who headed for California in 1849, and one of the less frequently used was the Arkansas Route. It was not only less popular than others, but few journals remain to tell the story of the experiences of the men who followed the trail from Fort Smith to Santa Fe, and on to Los Angeles before turning north to the Mother Lode region.
Three of the men in the little party of six who set out from Lewisburg late in February, 1849, left some written record of their experiences. William H. Chamberlin made the most complete record of the adventures of this small group of men. He had some literary skill and had agreed before departing to send letters back to the local paper, the Lewisburg Chronicle. In addition, his diary was later published in the same newspaper. David Howard also made some notes regarding the trip to California and some of the experiences after arrival. Robert B. Green, whose journal is under consideration, kept a day to day record of the trip, the most complete of the three, in terms of daily entries, but it was never revised, and appears in this volume with virtually no changes.
The six men drove wagons to Pittsburgh, sent the horses back to Lewisburg, and obtained passage down the Ohio. At the mouth of the Arkansas River they transferred to a boat going up as far as Fort Smith. There mules were purchased, and the men started west on March 28. The Canadian River was followed for a considerable distance, and then the Santa Fe Trail was followed to its destination. The men went down the Rio Grande until it was time to cut across country to the Gila River, which they followed to its mouth at the Colorado. The Lewisburgers then headed northwest to Los Angeles, and after a brief stay, the last lap of the expedition was undertaken to the mining region 300 miles farther north.
This journal is the work of a man with little formal learning, but indicates that he was a person of some experience. He held decided opinions and expressed them, at least on paper. One develops the feeling that many people were out of step with Green. His party joined with others to make the crossing, mostly men from southern states. These companions were all condemned as unconscionable scoundrels. He despised the Indians he met along the way and also the Mexicans. He was horrified by the easy morals of the women, but this did not prevent him from making an unsuccessful attempt to impress one of them at Socorro. The hardships which Green’s party faced during the trip are beyond imagination today. The great difficulty in the spring, caused by rain, mud, and the crossing of swollen streams, faded into insignificance in comparison with the hardships encountered in crossing Arizona and California in midsummer. Men went on near starvation rations for days. Green’s waist shrank from forty inches to twenty-six during the seven months he spent in reaching California. The men and mules were so weakened by the time they reached Los Angeles that it took them nearly a month to travel from there to the mines, and they were in dire distress in the San Woikin (Green’s spelling for San Joaquin) Valley for days.
Green included many small, pertinent comments and stories. He vividly portrayed the tragedy of losing the handle of one’s tin cup when coffee was dipped from a common kettle. He had to wait until some friend would dip coffee for him, and wait again until the cup was cool enough to hold. He voiced the feelings of all the Argonauts when he wrote in Arizona, on July 15, ‘. . . we are determined to go on as long as we can & then take it afoot & carry our provision [s] on our backs for go we will or die on the road, & with the front croud.” Unfortunately this man died in San Francisco before the year was out.
Professor Oliphant has provided a very fine introduction to this brief, but interesting journal of a prospective miner on the Arkansas Route.
The Gold Rush Diary of William W. Hunter on the Southern Gold Trail
Another published diary is the “Missouri ’49Er: The Journal of William W. Hunter on the Southern Gold Trail” (Historical Society of New Mexico Publications Series) by William W. Hunter (Author), David P. Robrock (Editor) Format: Hardcover.
“Gold fever swept across the nation in early 1849, and newspapers were filled with stories of easily acquired riches in distant California. The editor of the Fulton (Mo.) Telegraph urged young men to go out to the gold field and “get a few hundred thousand to help Missouri!” In pursuit of this dream, as many as 50,000 people journeyed overland to California that year, among them a train from the Fulton area known as the “Callaway County Pioneers. ” William W. Hunter, a member of the train, chronicled their experiences in remarkable detail in this previously unpublished journal.
Hunter’s train traveled to California over a lesser-used southern route by way of Santa Fe and the Gila River. A well educated man for his time, Hunter recorded vivid descriptions of the land and the people of the Southwest, including invaluable eyewitness accounts of camp life and the customs of the Indian and Mexicans they encountered. Hunter captures the spirit of adventure and vision of wealth that dominated the beginning of the trek, and the sense of despair and demoralization of the latter portion as the inhospitable deserts of the Southwest took their toll.
Hunter’s wry sense of humor and eye for detail make his journal a valuable addition to the literature of the Forty-Niner migration.” This one is available on Amazon.
Read the Diary
At Albuquerque I was directed to call and see Madame Armijo, and ask her for the map of New Mexico, belonging to her husband, which she had in her possession. I found her ladyship sitting on an ottoman smoking, after the fashion of her country-women, within reach of a small silver vase filled with coal. She said she had searched for the map without success; if not in Santa Fe, her husband must have taken it with him to Chihuahua.
Notes of a Seven Months Journey to California
By William H. Chamberlin
CHAPTER I.
1849
Monday, Feb. 26.
We left Lewisburg this morning about 8 o’clock, with spirits as buoyant as could be expected, after parting with our friends and all we hold near and dear on earth, especially when we take into consideration the long and hazardous journey before us. No doubt we will soon experience the loss we have sustained in leaving home, with all its comforts, our friends, and the many social ties that have heretofore bound us to society. But the love of adventure and prospect of reward have over-come all “home feelings,” and today finds us on our way towards the great point of attraction. Our company consists of R. B. Green, D. Howard, John Musser, S. F. Schaffle, Cyrus Fox and myself. If but a small portion of the good wishes of our friends (I hope we have left no enemies) are realized, we will be amply rewarded. Three weeks ago I had not the slightest idea of going, and within that time I have been obliged to take an inventory, settle up my business, and make preparations for the journey, being busily engaged up to the moment of departure. I did not have the pleasure of seeing all my friends, which I regret very much, but if I live, will make up for all deficiencies on my return. I was advised to go by some, by others, (the greater number) to stay at home, but my mind was made up. Stayed at Musser’s, Millheim.
Tuesday, Feb. 27.
After seeing the friends that accompanied us safe on their way home, we started on our way westward. Raining, which makes travelling very unpleasant. Arrived at Stover’s inn about dark, and sat down to an excellent supper of ham, eggs, etc., to which we did ample justice.
Wednesday, Feb. 28.
Entered Huntingdon county after leaving Stover’s. The mud very deep, and almost impassible, until we reach the turnpike, within seven miles of Water Street. The winter grain looks bad, being severely frozen. Passed several furnaces and forges on Spruce creek, and a great number are in operation in the vicinity. Although this hilly country is not so well adapted to agriculture as other portions of the State, it fully makes up in mineral wealth. The scenery is romantic and beautiful, especially along the banks of the Juniata river. The Central Railroad company have commenced tunneling the mountain at the mouth of Spruce creek. Dined at Water Street, and arrived at Hollidaysburg, 6 o’clock this evening. This place, situated at the connection of the canal and railroad, commands a large portion of trade, and has quite a business-like appearance.
Thursday, March 1.
One of our wagons being out of repair, we did not leave until 10 o’clock. Walked about 8 miles this morning which whetted our appetites for a lunch, which we partook of at the mountain toal-gate, with many good wishes for Mrs. Glen G., who with prudent forsight had provided us with bread, ham, etc. If we had our wagons upon runners we could get along with less labor to the teams, there being several inches of snow upon the ground. Arrived at the Summit House about 4 o’clock and concluded to stop for the night, having traveled about 10 miles to-day. Col. J. W. Geary, a resident of this place, started for California a short time since, with the commission of postmaster at San Francisco. 6
Friday, March 2.
Left Summit about 6 o’clock, entered Cambria county this afternoon. Passed through Edensburg the country very rough on all sides, and thinly settled. Rain and sleet fell during the whole day, which made our journeying very unpleasant. Stopped at Armagh.
Saturday, March 3.
Snow fell during the night, and this morning it is several inches deep. Our wagons draw very heavy. Reached Blairsville at 12 o’clock, had a check and concluded to take stage for Pittsburg, with our heavy trunks ten passengers in all. Got along pretty well until within 13 miles of Pittsburg, when we stuck in the mud, about midnight, but by “putting our shoulders to the wheels,” we succeeded in getting along at the rate of three miles in five hours walked all the way, and were pretty well exhausted when we reached Pittsburg in the morning.
Sunday, March 4.
At 6 a.m. put up at Exchange Hotel, our clothes literally mud from head to foot; called on a barber, and after being washed, shaved and changed, we felt somewhat relieved. Walked out to take a look at the “Iron City.” Cannot say that I was much pleased with its general appearance, everything the eye rests upon having a dark, dingy appearance, caused by the dust falling around from the numerous iron works which are constantly belching forth fire and smoke, yet the traveler cannot but notice the bustle and din of business in this great manufacturing town. The West and South are the markets for her products. Thousands of laboring men find employment in these establishments, and make a comfortable livelihood for themselves and families.
Monday, March 5.
Kelly and Herbst arrived this morning with our wagons and baggage. We engaged passage on board the steamship “Winfield Scott,” Capt. Devenny, to the mouth of the Arkansas river, at $10 apiece and $7 freight for our two wagons. The boat is new, and runs her first trip down the river. Rained all day, the Ohio river rising. We are all very anxious to be off.
Tuesday, March 6.
After pulling our wagons aboard, Kelly and Herbst started for home. Ourchasing tools, cooking utensils, clothing, etc. Commenced boarding on the boat this morning. Met T. Sargeant, formerly of Lewisburg, and Mr. Hoons, besides several other acquaintances.
Wednesday, March 7.
Engaged purchasing India rubber goods, etc. Our boat left the Pittsburg landing about 6 o’clock p.m. We have few passengers aboard. The cabins are elegantly furnished, and the table covered with the choicest viands. The bar is well filled up, where the choicest liquors and cigars are dealt out. We purchased an “Airometer” to-day, of the inventor, Mr. Aiken, for the purpose of weighing and ascertaining the value of gold.
Thursday, March 8.
Came to at M’Farlin’s Warehouse, in sight of Steubenville, Ohio, and took aboard 1500 bbls. of flour. Occupied the greater part of the day. The telegraph wires cross the river at this place. The river being high, the pipes of the steamboat “Messenger” on her way up came in contact, and broke one of the lines. We have Ohio on our right and Virginia on our left hand. The scenery on either shore is very fine; at times rich tracts of cultivated country, stretching away as far as the eye can reach, on either hand, and again nothing but bold, barren hills presenting themselves. Landed at Steubenville this evening. It being the captain’s place of residence, our cabin was soon filled with visitors admiring the new boat, etc.
Friday, March 9.
Dropped down the river a few miles this morning and took on 750 bbls. flour. In the meantime some of us went ashore and amused ourselves by firing at a target. I made the best shot and my rifle proved herself a first-class shooter. Reached Wheeling this evening. Before we arrived, a young man, said to be of respectable family, had a violent fit of “mania potu.” He had been drinking for some days, and was in great distress; but he recovered so as to go on shore when we landed. Took aboard 500 bbls. of flour at this place. The amount stowed away in one of these boats is almost incredible. Mr. M’Donald and myself went to a concert by the “Eddy Family.” They have improved very much since I heard them sing in Lewisburg. Mr. Schmidt performed his part on the guitar admirably. The river is now very full, being 25 feet above low water mark.
Saturday, March 10.
Left Wheeling at 8 o’clock; stopped at Marietta this afternoon. This is the oldest town in the State of Ohio, and a handsome place, resembling Lewisburg in some respects. There is a college here, and a burying-ground in the suburbs, in which stands a large mound filled with human skeletons. It is not known whether it was an Indian burial place, or the work of an antediluvian race; the former is the general supposition. Several of us visited this curiosity during our short stay.
Sunday, March 11.
Arrived at Portsmouth. It has a business-like appearance windows shut and door open for trade. Very little respect is paid to the Sabbath in places situated on these western thoroughfares. Spent the day in reading, not forgetting a few chapters in the book of books. Weather warm and sultry, with thunder showers this evening. The dense fog obliged us to come to anchor.
Monday, March 12.
Arrived at Cincinnati about 7 o’clock a.m. The fog was so dense that we could see nothing of the surrounding country, which is said to present a beautiful appearance, being under a high state of cultivation, and abounding in vineyards, fruitgardens, etc.”; but after the fog broke away we had a fine view of the business portion of the “Queen City.” In population and substantial wealth it is, perhaps, increasing faster than any city in the Union, and its vast resources and commercial facilities, together with the enterprising spirit of her citizens, are destined to make Cincinnati one of the first inland cities in the world. Here we purchase provisions for our over-land journey bacon, ham, dried beef, flour, cornmeal, hard bread, beans, rice, coffee, sugar, tea, saleratus, salt, pepper, chocolate, etc. Left Cincinnati at 4 o’clock p.m.
Tuesday, March 13.
Some new passengers aboard; the evening agreeably spent, music, reading, anecdotes, etc. The porter on this boat is four feet high and as broad as long. We have dubbed him “Gen. Taylor,” and have a great deal of sport at his expense. Being an endless joker himself he stands a butt for all who may aim at him. Arrived at Louisville this morning, just as we turned out of our berths. It makes a fine appearance from the river, and does not deceive its looks. I was better pleased with Louisville than any of the western towns we have passed through. Here we made our last purchases of over-land equipments, including a few trinkets, beads, rings, vermillion, etc., to barter with the Indians. Goods of all kinds command a percentage here, judging from the rates we paid for some articles. Left Louisville about 10 o’clock a.m., passing through the falls, but the river being so full, we scarcely noticed them, although entirely impassable in times of low water. Passed Shippenport, Ky., and New Albany and Troy, Indiana. The appearance of the country on both sides of the river would warrant a productive soil. To-day I notice trees coming out in leaf, frogs singing, and all nature wears the aspect of early spring.
Wednesday, March 14.
A clear and beautiful morning, and a cloudless sky, welcomed us this my 21st birthday. With what fond anticipation does the child look forward to that eventful day that shall make him a “man.” He forms plans and builds “castles in the air,” which his restless ambition is doomed never to realize when he arrives at that period. As time glides along, and he passes from childhood to youth, his asperations weaken, and continue to grow fainter during his rise from youth to manhood. He is not sensible of the change, and all the fond imaginations of his bright and joyous days are forgotten or give place to other thoughts and feelings. This has certainly been my experience. Little did I think, years ago, when I “wished I was a man,” that this day would find me in my present situation with the present object in view. But I am off my subject. The country on both sides of the river is flat, the banks full and over-flowing in some places. The settlements along the banks, for some time have presented a most squalid appearance, wretched cabins, sunk in the sand and mud, surrounded with drifts, destitute of outhouses. Evansville, in the distance looks like a small place, and is the largest town in Indiana.
CHAPTER II.
Thursday, March 15.
Using the river water has given some of us accustomed to limestone water a severe diarrhoea. Many feared it was the cholera, which is prevailing to some extent in this country, but we soon found out to the contrary, much to our satisfaction. Landed at Cairo, situated at the junction of the Ohio and Mississippi rivers. It is a poor, distressed looking place, almost inundated at present. The characteristics of these two rivers differ very materially. While the Ohio is one continued broad, smooth stream, the waters of the Mississippi are most turbulent, very crooked, cut up by islands, and running in different channels. Its banks are low and overflowing in many places at present. Sometimes for miles it is lined with cotton-wood’ trees of different growths. These regular varieties in size are caused, I suppose, by the formation of new banks, and the deposits of seed, as the river changes its channels. Every now and then we see a lone squatter living in something that has the shape of a habitation, but generally so small and wretched looking (surrounded by water when the river is up) that a person can scarcely but wonder how human beings can content themselves in such an isolated, and apparently miserable condition. But I am told that they are contented with their lot, which is a blessing many in far more enviable situations do not enjoy. They procure the necessaries of life by furnishing the steamboat with wood, and occasionally we see a garden patch or a small lot fenced in and planted. It appears to be the highest ambition to live “from hand to mouth,” as it is called, and wrestle with the fever-and-ague, which is their constant enemy. Like Daniel Boone, they think that when a person settles within twenty miles of them they are getting “too neighborly” and wish to encroach upon their rights. I cannot envy the condition of the poor squatter on the lonely banks of the Mississippi. I would prefer a log cabin, with a dog and a gun, amongst the wildest mountains of old Pennsylvania. I am no admirer of flat or prairie country; I imagine it will be severe on the eyes when the sight is unobstructed by forests, or blue mountains in the distance. Today we saw the first canebrake; they are beautiful, being ever-green.
Friday, March 16.
A delightful morning. Passed a number of cotton plantations, with a row of negro huts near the mansion houses; some of them looked very comfortable. Landed at Memphis about noon weather almost insupportably warm. The town is situated upon a bluff, and has considerable trade, principally in cotton. It is said there are fifty cases of cholera in town. We lay here half a day, discharging freight. The U. S. navy yard at this place is under way, and is a very heavy contract. About 200 Californians are assembled here from different parts of the South, making preparations for starting. The half of the population of Memphis are slaves. We saw some specimens of the traffic to-day. An Arkansas lawyer purchased a little girl and brought her on board. She was literally torn from the arms of her mother, and their mingled cries were truly distressing. Another case was of two little brothers. The purchaser was taking them to Red River, Louisiana; they, too, had been taken from their parents, and looked and no doubt felt as though they had buried father and mother. Another was a planter, who told me he had run short of change, and to replenish his purse, he selected one of his slaves, a comely looking fellow, about twenty-three years of age, and was taking him to the New Orleans market. He was in chains; his master said it was because he refused to go, or in other words, as I learned from the slave himself, to be torn away from his wife, whom he loved and had been married to about four months. I did not wonder at his refusing to go. But more happy and contented beings than slaves do not exist, when well treated and properly clothed. No matter how hard they are continually singing, jesting, etc. To sit an hour or two on the wharf at Memphis and listen to their peculiar lingo, was a rare treat to me. Corn has been already planted in this part of the country, and peach trees are out in full bloom.
Saturday, March 17.
Left Memphis yesterday morning, and arrived at Napoleon, at the mouth of the Arkansas, this evening. This place consists of several old steamboats converted into storehouses, hotels, etc., and two or three “stray buildings.” We stowed our traps, and took lodgings in one of these wretched wharf boats, while the “Winfield Scott” sped on her way towards the “Crescent City.” Success to her and all on board. This abject looking place ill deserves the lofty name it bears. Everything about our boarding house appeared filthy, and the victuals were almost disgusting.
Sunday, March 18.
There being about forty Californians here, awaiting a passage to Fort Smith, I was obliged to sleep on the floor last night. Caught a catfish this afternoon, which we considered quite a feat; he was a monster, weighing 45 pounds. Some straggling Cherokee Indians about here, on their way to St. Louis to dispose of their furs.
They are in canoes, and are very poor. They remind me of the “last run of shad.” About 3 o’clock this afternoon we started up the Arkansas, on board boat “Wm. Armstrong/’ a small propeller, which we engaged to go through to Fort Smith for $15 per man and $8 per wagon. The river is in good, navigable order, and the water is more turbid than either the Ohio or the Mississippi, rather inclined to be red. The banks are lined with cypress, cottonwood and cane-brake.
Monday, March 19.
Rained all night; river falling, and full of snags; the current is very strong, but we are
making good time. Arrived at Pine Bluffs about 2 p.m. It is a small but pleasant village, situated upon a high bluff overlooking the surrounding country. Saw some pine timber here (growing), which is the first we have met since leaving Penn’a. I was very much deceived in the general appearance of the Arkansas country. Shortly after leaving the Mississippi the banks became higher, well timbered, and an apparently finer looking country I have never seen; but I am told the soil is rather light. There is a bluff on one side of the river, while the opposite side is low lands, and the formation changes sides alternately. Cotton and corn are the staple products of this country. It is said to be very healthy here, and is certainly a great opening for emigrants. We amused ourselves to-day by firing at ducks and geese off the deck of the boat; but made few successful shots. The accommodations on board are very indifferent and the fare horrid; all the meats appear to have been in a putrid state before cooking. Complaint was made by the passengers, (and we afterward had the satisfaction of eating some of our own provisions, not knowing it at the time).
Tuesday, March 20.
Awakened this morning by a violent storm. It came on about 2 o’clock, accompanied by thunder and lightning and high winds. Hail fell about the size of an egg. The boat was blown upon a sand-bar, which saved us from being capsized. By the screams of the wild geese, we supposed they were sorely pelted. After the storm subsided we cleared the sand-bar and arrived at Little Rock about day-break. This place, which is the capital of the State, contains from 4000 to 5000 inhabitants. It is situated upon a high rocky bluff, from which it derives its name; (these are the first rocks we have seen since leaving the Ohio river). It is a well built, healthy and pleasant place. The government buildings are substantially and handsomely situated. There are a number of fine private residences in town, the yards, gardens, etc., of which are adorned with a great deal of taste, and the inhabitants are generally of the best class of society. A short distance above Little Rock we met with the first mountains since leaving the Ohio, and they are but hills compared with those of Pennsylvania. We have passengers aboard bound for California from Ohio, Kentucky, Tennessee, Mississippi, Louisiana, Arkansas, South Carolina, and other of the Southern States. They are generally young and hardy looking.
Wednesday, March 21.
Another violent storm last night; rain fell in torrents. We arrived at Lewisburg this morning. It is an insignificant looking place; has nothing to recommend it, and bears no resemblance to the Lewisburg we left behind us. Arrived at Ozark City at 10 o’clock a.m. From the appearance of the place the founder’s expectations could never have been realized. The Ozark chain, that crosses the State here, gives the country a more mountainous appearance. The current of the river is becoming very rapid and difficult to ascend. Reached Van Buren about dark. This was published a rendezvous for emigrants. We had thought of stopping here, but concluded to go on to Fort Smith, five miles ahead, where we arrived at 8 o’clock p.m. The boat immediately discharged her passengers and freight and put off down the river. When we succeeded in getting our traps together, we found our groceries missing. This explained the cause of our change of fare aboard the boat. But she was off, leaving us to renew our loss as best we could. There being no storehouses here, we were under the necessity of lying on the bank all night to protect our baggage. This was our first night’s experience in “camping out.”
Thursday, March 22.
After passing a sleepless night, we proposed to go out and encamp at Sulphur Springs, about two miles distant from town. Fort Smith is quite a village, situated on the east or Arkansas side of the river, containing about 1000 inhabitants, made up of people from all parts of the States, slaves and Indians included. It is an Indian trading station, and every day they come to town in numbers, bringing furs, marketing, etc., to exchange for the necessaries of life. There are a number of government troops quartered here, and the fort and outbuildings are brick, adding greatly to the appearance of the town. The government buildings are enclosed by a heavy stone wall.
Friday, March 23.
Green and Musser gone to Van Buren to purchase mules. The boat Pennyweight arrived to-day from New Orleans and discharged a cargo of Californians. They buried seven persons on the way up who died with the cholera. Purchased another stock of groceries, which we are busy sacking, drying and smoking our bacon, etc.
Saturday, March 24.
Bought seven mules at $50 a head. Mr. Armstrong, from Ralston, Pa., arrived to-day and joined our company. We use the sulphur water, although the taste is rather nauseous. If we do not require its medical virtues, it cannot injure us. Our mules are in bad condition, which will require us to travel slow in the start.
Sunday, March 25.
Went to hear the far-famed Mr. John Newland Maflit preach. I knew him by reputation, but had never seen or heard him before. He is certainly an eloquent speaker, but I came to the conclusion that he is more renowned for eccentricity, than either piety or the future welfare of his listeners. He was formerly of the Methodist Church, but is now an “outsider.” Although upwards of fifty years of age, he does not appear to be more than thirty, and I am inclined to think that more of his time is spent at the toilet than at the Bible. There appears to be more regard for the day in camp than in town.
Monday, March 26.
Musser went to Van Buren after our mules. The weather is fine, tempting us to start. We are anxious to be on our way and will get off as soon as possible. Purchased three mules at about $50 per head. We have now five to each wagon, intending to purchase riding ponies from the Indians on our way. Having our mules shod, wagons repaired, and making every necessary preparation we can think of.
Tuesday, March 27.
Judging from the amount of goods sold to the emigrants at this place, and the prices realized, the self-interested citizens of Fort Smith could well afford to publish to the world the many advantages (no doubt exaggerated) this place has as a starting point, for an overland journey to California. The gamblers are fleecing many persons, who will be obliged to return home and take a new start. We disposed of our provision chests and exchanged our tent for a larger and more convenient one; purchased saddles, extra mule shoes, pickets, etc.
Wednesday, March 28. Commenced raining this morning; packed our wagons harnessed to our gaunt looking mules, and rolled out about 3 o’clock this afternoon. Our teams moved off finely; the road very bad ; continues raining. Encamped on a small run; no grass; fed our animals upon corn, which we brought with us. We use our camp chest as a table; we have an abundance of blankets, with which we make ourselves comfortable. After enjoying our humble supper of coffee, bacon and biscuit, we retired to rest, pretty well pleased with our first day’s journey, and were lulled to sleep by the hooting of owls and the howling of wolves. We appointed a guard which is to be kept up throughout the journey, each standing half a night, alternately. Distance, six miles.
CHAPTER III.
Thursday, March 29.
Traveled over a very bad road, the wheels sometimes sinking to the axles, but our mules did not flinch. Ferried over Polo river, a sluggish stream about 40 yards wide. Passed through the “Choctaw Agency”; a great many Indians and squaws were lounging about the place; some of them have pretty comfortable cabins, and cultivate a few acres of ground. They are very fond of dress; some of the squaws were clad in calicoes of the most gaudy colors. Some of them had “papooses” lashed to a wicker frame, swung over their backs. In this way they carry them for a whole day, not even loosing them when they suckle, and the little “brats” never murmur. Liquor is not allowed to be sold in the nation; this is a law of their own, and a very sensible one. Indeed, it would be an example worthy of imitation by our enlightened States. They raise a great many horses, cattle, hogs, poultry, etc. There is a detachment of government soldiers in advance of us, surveying a new route for emigrants on the south side of the Canadian river to the plains of “Great American desert,” thence on to Santa Fe, on the same side of the river. Capt. Rl B. Marcy, with a detachment of U. S. troops, is to leave Fort Smith in a few days as an escort to the company of emigrants from that place. He is to travel by this new route. Strange that persons living upon the borders or frontier as the Fort Smith people do, accustomed to dealing with the Indians, require an escort of troops, while many of us from the States, who never saw an Indian, are obliged to fight and cut our own way. Senator Borland, of Arkansas, whose influence brought all this about, must be a ‘cute old ‘un. When we came to where the new road struck off from the old one, we were influenced to take the former by a man stationed there for the ourpose. We were the first that traveled it, 9 except the military detachment, which consists of two wagons and 25 men, who are but a few miles ahead of us and ahead of them, a wilderness of 250 miles! They are guided by the old Delaware Indian trail, which runs about 20 degrees S. of W. to the edge of the plains. We crossed a prairie a few miles in width; the ground is very soft; once we mired down, and it was only by unloading, double-teaming, and putting our shoulders to the wheel, that we succeeded in getting the wagon out. Obliged to encamp on the prairie, but found enough wood and water to answer our purposes. Saw a great many grouse and prairie snipe to-day; but, either because they were too wild, or we inexperienced in the art, did not succeed in killing them. Distance, 22 miles; 28 miles out.
Friday, March 30.
Started early. Soon found the road almost impassable. This portion of the prairie had been lately burned over, which made it much worse. Mired both wagons and mules very frequently, and it required all our strength, ingenuity and courage to get them out. We almost despaired getting through, for scarcely would we get them out, until they were in again. Came up with the troops this evening, and encamped with them in a beautiful spot on the border of a small prairie, through which ran a brook of clear, delicious water. The air was perfumed by a variety of shrubbery that grew along its banks, now in full bloom. Saw a few deer at a distance to-day. Out of corn for our mules, and the grass too short to afford them much nourishment. Very much fatigued by the day’s labor, and turned in early. Distance, 5 miles 33.
Saturday, March 31.
Became acquainted with Lieuts. Dent and Updegraff both apparently clever fellows. Dent has a brother in California. Almost worn out, but “necessity is the mother of invention,” and we do not find ourselves in so great a dilemma, when our teams bog down, as we did at first, having learned to extricate them with less difficulty. Again encamped on a small stream, on the skirts of a “miniature prairie.” This evening Howard and myself each mounted a mule, and started in search of corn for our suffering animals; after following a trail about three miles, we came to a cabin of an Indian. He at first said he had none, but we knew by the stalks in his patch that he was lying; we were determined to have it, which he saw and gave in. We got as much as our animals could carry for $1.00 per hundred ears. In the meantime the old squaw was busily engaged dissecting a fine wild turkey, which she did without much ceremony, using her hands instead of a knife. Night overtook us and it was with difficulty we found our way back to camp, which we reached in time to partake of a hearty though simple supper. Distance, 4 miles 37.
Sunday, April 1.
Did not move camp. If ever the Sabbath was required as a day of “rest,” this was, as well for our animals as ourselves; but idleness in camp becomes monotony, and as we could not endure that, some of us went gunning, and others fishing. I shot several large fox squirrels; others caught some small fish, resembling what we call sunfish. Our game made us a very palatable supper. The troops moved on this morning. The Sabbath is not observed in the army. We have crossed several mountains and found abundance of iron ore and indications of coal. The soil in the valleys and prairies is undoubtedly good, judging from the luxuriant growth of grass in season. The Indians with their rude implements of cultivating the ground, raise fine crops of corn, although from their natural distaste of labor, they seldom grow more than they require for their own sustenance. While out gunning, strolling along an Indian trail, I almost trod upon a very large rattlesnake, stretched across the path. He commenced making music for me in a very high tone, but I silenced it by a bullet through his pate. Saw a number of deer, but could not get within shooting distance of them. The water in this neighborhood has a milky appearance. A number of Indians and squaws visited us today, begging tobacco, bread, etc. They are on their way to the agency, to traffic and encamp near us. The squaws imitate the men in riding by sitting astride the animal.
Monday, April 2.
Cloudy, indicating rain; the road somewhat better. Purchased some corn at $1.00 per bushel. Traveled over mountains and strips of prairie, the scenery varied and beautiful. Met an American in company with some Indians; they had been out on a hunting excursion. The American had six fine wild turkeys suspended from his saddle. He had lived with the Indians a number of years, and adopted their dress and customs. He was an intelligent man and said that he had been educated at one of the best literary institutions in the States, and received his diploma. What induced him to forsake civilized society and dwell among savages, he did not inform us. He certainly has a romantic fancy. The military ahead of us had very imprudently set the prairie on fire; it was rushing toward us, consuming everything before it; we could not retreat, but, halting our teams, some of us went ahead and encountering it at the edge of the woods, and after a severe effort, succeeded in arresting its progress in one spot wide enough for our wagons to pass through, which they did in safety. It was a fearful sight, and we were lucky in escaping the devouring flames so easily. We encamped on the skirt of the woods, bordering on a prairie, where we found a small pool of almost stagnant water. Purchased fowls, sweet potatoes, and peanuts, of some Indians, who had followed us all afternoon for the purpose of trading. The woods and prairies on fire all around our camp. Distance, 1 mile 49.
Tuesday, April 3.
After the wagons started this morning, I rambled through the woods and shot a fine mess of pigeons and partridges, and had a long tramp before I again overtook the company. Met an old Indian of whom we purchased some eggs, or “chickens,” as they call them in broken English. The Choctaws are very dark colored. A good pony can be purchased of them for $5. Very thoughtlessly, I did not purchase one, for while we were making such short stages, I preferred walking, and gunning occasionally, to taking care of an extra animal. (I had reasons afterwards for repenting this negligence.) The road to-day was very good in comparison with what we have passed, except crossing the San Boy river, a stream 10 yards wide and pretty deep. The hills here abound in iron ore. Encamped on Cooper’s creek this evening. 11 The grass is about three or four inches high and affords indifferent pasture for our stock. Some of the landscape scenery is truly fine being a constant succession of hills, vallies, woodland, and prairies, the last of which are now clothed in green interspersed with innumerable wild flowers of every variety and hue. Occasionally our table is furnished with a dish of “green” or wild onions. The old Indian trail, in many places, is not more than a foot wide, by which thousands pass yearly on their way to the settlements to trade. The timber in this country, which is principally oak, is rather scrubby. Distance, 12 miles 61.
Wednesday, April 4.
In the course of the day we crossed the bridge, very difficult of ascent and descent. Overtook the government train and encamped on a stream of good water. I shot a very large hare, which made us an excellent supper and breakfast. Purchased some corn of an Indian by the way, and found we could get as much for three or four dimes as for a dollar, they preferring small change, and at the same time we gave them full value for their grain. They generally treat us very civilly, and never attempt to pilfer even the most trifling article. Distance, 9 miles 70.
Thursday, April 5.
Started early, but owing to the bad state of the road, we made but little progress, crossing many deep ravines, and encamped early. Rain this evening, but our tent comfortable. I shot eight gray squirrels as we traveled along to-day, which furnished a savory dish this evening. Distance, 6 miles 76.
Friday, April 6.
In today’s journey we crossed a beautiful prairie about 8 miles in width, and over a very difficult mountain. A deep and apparently impassible ravine was now before us; this we crossed with less trouble than we anticipated, but not without a hard struggle on the part of our teams, which we doubled. A very heavy thunder shower now fell upon us, wetting us completely. Shortly afterwards we reached the bank of Games’ creek. This, after another hard siege, we forded, and encamped on the opposite bank about noon. The rain continued falling in torrents all night. We thought of encamping on the other side, but luckily for us we did not, for immediately after we crossed it commenced rising, and was soon full, the banks at least 30 feet high. There is a small mongrel settlement near us consisting of half-breeds, Indians, and negroes, which is reported as a place infested with thieves and robbers. The spot where we are encamped, although the best we can find, is a perfect mud hole. Distance, 11 miles 87.
Saturday, April 7.
Heavy showers continued falling during the night, and it has not ceased this morning. The military are encamped on the other side, where they must remain until the water falls. About noon we struck our tent, traveled about 3 miles, and encamped on another stream, so swollen as to be impassible. There is a mess of Texians on the opposite bank, who have been waiting for several days for company. They had left Fort Smith several weeks ago and followed the Indian trail thus far. They scarcely knew where they were going, but I suppose had heard of California, knew it was westward, and were pushing forward in that direction. Distance, 3 miles 90.
Sunday, April 8.
On “watch” until 1 o’clock this morning. Stormed all night, making it impossible to trade or do anything else; we are almost swamped in mud and water, and are obliged to lay in our tents.
Monday, April 9.
Rained all night, cleared off this morning. Our mules wandered off during the night, but found them this afternoon; unable to proceed on account of the soft state of the earth. Busy drying bed clothes, repairing wagons, etc.
Tuesday, April 10.
Remained in camp for reasons given yesterday, engaged airing our provisions, washing our clothes, etc. The large, flat stones on the bank of the stream answer admirably instead of a wash machine, and the appearance of our linen, when “hung up to dry,” would reflect honor upon a washerwoman skilled in the art. Endeavored to catch some of the small fish that appear to abound in the stream, but with little success. Howard fired at a deer yesterday but without effect. Quarreling among the soldiers, and punishment accordingly. Whisky the cause.
Wednesday, April 11.
Our teams were again under way this morning and crossed the stream a short distance above. The prairies and hills are very soft, but we got along tolerably well. The army kept along the side of the mountain, but after upsetting both wagons, they concluded to come back to the trail, which we had not left. Stopped at 4 o’clock. We have been in the Chickasaw Indian country since leaving Games’ creek. They are fairer in complexion than the Choctaws; some of them can speak a little English. They grow some corn and vegetables. Distance, 10 miles 100.
CHAPTER IV.
Thursday, April 12.
Made an early start; road very bad; frequently had to take the axe and cut out a new one, to avoid swampy places. About 11 o’clock we overtook the military, who were badly bogged, and shortly afterwards encamped, having apparently got to our journey’s end; swamps, creeks and mountains on all sides. What we will do next is yet to be determined; some exploring will have to be done. While washing the other day, the sun burned my arms severely; they are now swollen and very painful. Raining to-day, very cold and unpleasant. If I had been told before starting that we could pass over such a country and roads, I would not have believed it; but perseverance accomplishes wonders. Our wagons have held together in places where I expected them to be “smashed into pi.” We are all in good health and spirits; our only cause for complaint is that we do not get along faster towards our place of destination. Walking all day gives us a keen relish for our frugal fare, which we enjoy while seated around our camp chest. Many a joke is cracked and many an anecdote of by-gone days is related. We almost forget that we have heretofore lived in a civilized country, and enjoyed the good things of the world. Nearly every day we grace our table with a dish of game, which take the place of bacon, and though not accompanied with the “fixin’s” generally used in cooking, it is not to be sneered at. We find our India rubber coats, caps, beds, etc., very useful in case of rain, and the ground is constantly damp. Carrying an extra supply of clothing is an absurd idea, and I never would do it again. We have not a fowling piece in the company for shooting small game, which we regret very much.
Friday, April 13.
Remained in camp to-day. Another heavy thunder shower. From all appearances we will not reach “Choteau’s” for weeks to come. We are within a few hundred yards of Coal creek, which we shall be obliged to cross. It is much swollen and the water very cold. Another company has overtaken us, consisting of six tailors, lacking three of the complement necessary to “make a man,” which is no joke in this instance, for, from their outward appearance, they are certainly “out of their element.” They and the Texians crossed the creek to-day. It was a foolish and unnecessary undertaking, but they finally succeeded, after wetting all their baggage and being obliged to swim.
Saturday, April 14.
We have concluded to wait until the creek falls, which is yet impassable. A very sudden change in the weather, too cold. Hail and rain this afternoon, very disagreeable.
Sunday, April 15.
Snow fell to the dept of three inches last night; the thermometer is down to 25 this morning at sunrise, which is something uncommon for this latitude, at this season of the year. It has rained almost continually since this month came in, and it is a fortunate circumstance that we have a waterproof tent and clothing. The grass is several inches high, the trees are in leaf, flowers in bloom, and everything indicates approaching summer. “Dame Nature” has certainly assumed a dress this morning that ill- becomes her. Emigrants should never leave the frontiers before the first of May; they only expose themselves to the inclemency of the weather, and use up their animals ; indeed, a good deal of rain may be expected after this date.
Monday, April 16.
Weather settled, with prospects of its continuance, at least for a short time. Musser and myself busied ourselves at altering and fitting our harness, which have been too large for our mules. Lieuts. Dent and Updegraff visit our camp frequently to discuss politics, and the general topics of the day. Lieut. Dent is a graduate of West Point Military Academy, and Lieut. Updegraff was promoted from the ranks. Both served in Mexico during the war, and bear the evidence upon their persons.
Tuesday, April 17.
Making preparations to cross the creek this morning. We were obliged to “corduroy” the banks on both sides, being perfect swamps. “Hauled out” about nine o’clock, succeeded in crossing, with a great deal of difficulty. Passed through a canebrake.
Came across an Indian settlement, and purchased some corn of “Mr. Tecumseh.” Encamped on the border of a small prairie, having made but little headway. Our road was through a continued swamp, and we frequently bogged down. After such a day’s work as this our clothes present a sad appearance, for we cannot avoid the mud. We are all very much fatigued, need rest, and will “turn in” early. Distance, 4 miles; 104 miles out from Fort Smith.
Wednesday, April 18.
Made an early start and crossed what we supposed to be Cedar creek. The military employed two Indians this morning to guide them. We traveled over some very rough mountains, cutting our own road the greater part of the day, and when we at last emerged from the woods, a prairie lay before us, with all the beauty in which Nature has arrayed these “natural fields” of the west. On the edge of this we pitched our tents, about 3 o’clock in the afternoon. The sight of these “spots” has an amazing effect upon our spirits, the timber land being more boggy, besides which, shouldering the axe and opening our way is not light work. This evening several men with pack animals encamped with us who had been but four days out from Fort Smith! Of course, we “scratched our heads,” and wished we had our traps similarly arranged. Distance, 10 114.
Thursday, April 19.
Under way at 7 o’clock; crossed a small prairie and found ourselves at the foot of a high and very steep mountain, and the military at a stand the Indian guide said there was no way but to cross the mountain, and they were afraid to undertake it. Armstrong and myself took the axe, and in a short time cut a road to the top, winding around to make the ascent more gradual. Up this the mules finally succeeded in dragging the wagons, assisted by all hands. But, strange to tell, we had not proceeded far, on the very back-bone of the ridge, until we were badly mired down. The descent at the farther end was also very rough and difficult, but at the foot we found a small, clear stream, on the bank of which we encamped about 4 o’clock. Caught a fine mess of sunfish for supper. To-day Lieut. Dent received an express from Capt. Marcy with information that he was on the road, but “travelling under ground” a great portion of the time. The man who brought the news (to hear him tell the story) was “downed” several times, “starved to death,” and “killed by the Indians” as often. He was indeed a picture of a “used-up-man.” He must have been “awfully scared”; but he stowed away the pork and beans, when they were passed around, as though nothing had happened.
Friday, April 20.
Our general course thus far has been a few degrees S. of W. The road better than usual to-day; crossed a creek within half a mile of its junction with the Canadian river. We are now in the Shawnee Indian country. Passed through one of their villages; they appear to be a more civilized tribe than any we have yet met with. They have very good log cabins, arranged in a straight line, with a road or street passing along in front of them. The old chief of whom we purchased corn had a stern, commanding appearance, and intellectual physiognomy, and “fire” in his eye, but was very obliging. He said that he had been at war with the whites, had fought many battles with them in the States, but was now at peace with everybody and hoped to remain so. As he said this his moistened eyes appeared to wander around upon the fields, and cabins, of this, a portion of the remnant of his once powerful tribe, with a seeming, though melancholy pride. Some of the squaws were handsome, with regular features, and in dress imitated the style of the whites. One in particular, the wife of a white man who was absent on a hunting excursion, was quite fashionably dressed. Her house and contents were comfortable and neatly arranged, and not the least prominent article of furniture was a clean looking bed and bedstead, curtained and festooned off a-la-mode. From this lady we procured eggs, chickens, milk, etc. Distance, 8 miles 122.
Saturday, April 21.
Made little progress today; our course lay over a rough and mountainous country. We were followed all day by Indians wanting to trade with us. They had corn and potatoes, and generally wanted clothing of some description in exchange. They have a good idea of the worth of the different articles we offered them, and are well acquainted with the value of money. These half-civilized Indians have a great dread of the wild “Redskins” of the plains, and tremble when the word “Comanche” is named. They appear to think that we are a foolhardy set to venture through this country, and that we will certainly get into trouble. The grass is becoming more nourishing to the stock, which are fast improving. We have pitched our tent upon the bank of a brook, and have quite a crowd of Indians about us. They are very independent and even insolent, but will beg tobacco, this being the first thing they ask for. Distance, 6 miles 128.
Sunday, April 22.
Rain this morning. For fear of detention by high waters, concluded to travel to-day. Crossed a number of deep, boggy slues, in one of which we broke the bolster of our wagon; another upset in the stream, injuring the wagon and wetting our baggage; a third broke the tongue of their wagon. We soon repaired ours and were again under way. Soon after we reached a prairie several miles in length, but quite narrow. From the number of horses and cattle we saw grazing, we knew we were near an Indian settlement. We encamped early, and were soon visited by a number of squaws, bringing eggs, fowls, milk, butter, etc., to sell, and afterwards by the men on horseback. We learned that we were within two miles of the Canadian river, five miles of Edwards’ trading house on the opposite side, and half a mile of “Shawnee town.” This village is situated in the woods between the prairie and the river, very much scattered, being several miles in length. The Canadian divides the Shawnee and Creek Indian Territory. Distance, 10 miles 138.
Monday, April 23.
Major Green and myself rode over to Edwards’ trading house, which is situated on Little river, near its junction with the Canadian. It is 180 miles from Fort Smith on the old road, which is the one we should have taken. We forded the Canadian, which is here about 600 yards wide. The water is brackish, turbid, and of a yellowish color. The bed of the river is entirely quicksand, which is in constant motion. We were obliged to hurry our animals across to prevent them from sinking. There are a number of cabins about this trading post, inhabited by a motley race of whites, Indians and negroes. Old Mr. Edwards has grown wealthy, but at the same time gray, and bordering on second childhood, in this traffic with the Indians. The Knickerbocker company from New York passed Edwards’ last week. They disposed of many of their effects here; have had a great deal of trouble and contention in their party. Two wagons overtook and encamped near us this evening. A heavy thunder shower last night; to-day very pleasant.
Tuesday, April 24.
Started at seven o’clock this morning, the road better, and the country more open than usual. We have been luxuriating for some days upon the many good things we procured from the Shawnees, such as wild turkey, fresh pork, milk, butter, eggs, sweet potatoes, peanuts, etc., and a dish of fritters; butter cakes or doughnuts, is not uncommon on our table. Distance, 10 miles 148.
Wednesday, April 25.
Remained in camp to-day. The government teams gone back to Shawneetown for corn. The Indians promised to bring us corn and “coot flour” to camp, but did not fulfil. Persons living in a civilized country, unacquainted with the Indian character, would naturally sympathize with them and would dwell for hours upon the wrongs they had received at the hands of the whites, but a short acquaintance with these Redskins, will suffice to change that opinion. They are a treacherous, lying, dishonest people, with but few redeeming traits of character. We gave them no opportunities to pilfer from us.
Thursday, April 26.
Started at 6 o’clock this morning, and traveled over a level country, at a pretty fast rate, until 9 o’clock, when it commenced raining, and the troops encamped. We determined to go on. I ascended a high point or bluff, off which I had a fine view of a large and beautiful scope of country woodland and strips of prairie alternately, wanting but the houses to give it the appearance of a vast settlement. We made the compass our guide, and steered in a due west direction, cutting our own road for about five miles, when we encamped, satisfied that we had done a reasonable day’s work. There is a great abundance of iron ore in this section of country, and the soil is a rich loam, producing fine grass. The water in the small streams we crossed to-day was as clear as crystal, but of a soft, brackish taste. The sun is generally very hot during the day, and the night uncomfortably cool. Distance, 13 miles 161.
Friday, April 27.
Started early, and after crossing a creek, struck upon a high prairie, over which we passed at a good rate until 2 o’clock p.m., when we bore a little N. of W. and soon found ourselves in a tight place rocks, ravines and woods all around us; but we finally reached our camp ground, after upsetting one of our wagons in a deep ravine; fortunately we broke nothing. Part of our course to-day was through a fine country. Crossed what Lieut. Dent called the Delaware mountains; the scenery from some of the peaks was truly magnificent. The streams of water crossed to-day were limpid, but saltish in taste. From the appearance of the country, we must be near the Canadian river, and by what we can learn from the Indians, about 25 miles from “Choteau’s.” It is high time we reach that point, which has been more the topic with us than the gold mines of California. We have no good feelings for the founders of the new road, and hope but few will venture upon it. Distance, 18 miles 179.
CHAPTER V.
Saturday, April 28.
Several of us started ahead of the wagons, early this morning, to “cut and blaze” the road, which we did for about four miles thro’ a scrub oak and briar thicket, when the wagons came up with us; crossed a wide creek, flowing towards the Canadian, the bed being quicksands; passed through several miles of timber, which proved to be the “Cross Timbers” which separated the Indian Territory from the Plains of “Great American Desert.”
The Delaware Indians inhabit this portion of the country; the mountains of name are nothing more than a high, bald prairie. About noon, we came out upon the great plain, which extends north, south and west as far as the eye can reach. Saw two antelopes today, and fired two shots at them as they ran or rather flew by us. Several fine turkeys killed today, and a prairie chick’s nest robbed of 14 eggs. Tonight, as I sit by the fire on guard, I am well serenaded by wolves, which keep up a perfect chorus. As yet, we have seen no buffalo, except their old “crossings,” and a number of “frames” or skeletons. By uniting a hard day’s labor with a hard day’s travel, some idea can be formed of how we have been getting along, and how we feel when we encamp at night. We have been one month out from Fort Smith, today. Lieutenant Updegraff has encamped some miles back, to await the arrival of Captain Marcy with provisions; Lieutenant Dent, to save his credit, came up with us this evening, alone, determined to be in advance to Chpteau’s, so it cannot be said that we laid out the road for him, although he has ordered the troops to follow our trail. A good pocket compass is an indispensable article in traveling through this country. Wild turkey for supper. Distance, 15 miles 194.
Sunday, April 29.
Remembered the “Sabbath” today, by oursuing our journey. We left our encampment at 6 o’clock and had a fine high prairie for several miles, but were again interrupted by creeks and slues which detained us very much. Encamped this evening within two miles of the river. We breakfasted on turkey and venison. Strawberries are abundant on the plain, and beginning to ripen. There has been a strong hot wind blowing today; water very scarce, and unfit for use. Distance, 12 miles 206.
Monday, April 30.
Our course today was along the dividing ridge between the Canadian and Watchita rivers. Encamped on a small ravine, where we could scarcely procure enough water for cooking purposes. This evening a Delaware Indian visited our camp. He called himself Big Buck, and could speak a good deal of English. He said that we were within 8 miles of Choteau’s, and gave us a great deal of information in regard to the country. In return we gave him his supper, and he ate fully six men’s rations, enough, he said, to last him three days. When he departed he promised to come in the morning and guide us to Choteau’s, and find us a good crossing, etc. He and his companions are out from their village on a hunting expedition. Distance, 15 miles 221.
Tuesday, May 1.
Big Buck came according to agreement, to act as guide. On reaching the river, several of our company crossed, and went in search of a trading house. We caught some fine fish, in which the Canadian abounds; and the Indians trap a good many otter along its banks. This afternoon we crossed our teams, with but little difficulty, the river being wide, but shallow. We were obliged to keep the wagons “rolling” to prevent their sinking into the quicksand. Encamped on the north side of the river, where we had excellent feed for our stock. Distance, 6 miles 227.
Wednesday, May 2.
Reached Choteau’s this morning, in an hour’s travel. We found an organized company of emigrants here, about 20’0 men, with 40 wagons, under the command of Captain Bass; also some scattering messes, and some families, who were waiting for Captain Marcy’s escort. We heard that the Knickerbocker company had passed several years [days] ago, also the Cherokee company, and a pack mule company. Encamped, and deliberated upon “what was to be done next.” Distance, 3 miles 230.
Thursday, May 3.
This morning, I visited what was formerly an extensive Indian trading post, established by Mr. Choteau, of St. Louis; how long since he abandoned it, I am not able to learn. 21 Some years ago, Mr. Edwards, of Little River, 80 miles below, sent up a lot of goods and negroes, with a man in charge, to trade with the Indians, cultivate corn, etc. After they had a crop raised, and everything going on as well as could be wished, they were suddenly attacked by the Comanches; the negroes fled, and the overseer was killed; the buildings were set on fire, and everything burned to the ground. From the remains, it can be seen that there were several buildings, enclosing on three sides a court about 160 feet square, the open side to the east.
We have determined not to travel with a large company, if we could find 20 or 30 men of our mind. A mess of nine Virginians have concluded to go with us. This evening we struck camp, and traveled a few miles upon the plain; halted on a small ravine, amid heavy rain; here we found a mess of eight men from Baton Rouge, La., who also agreed to go with us. Distance, 6 miles 236.
Friday, May 4.
Rained all day but we continued moving along. Encamped early, for the purpose of organizing a company for mutual protection as far as Santa Fe or Rio Grande. Elected Major Green, captain. There are 31 men in our company, and nine wagons. Fitzhugh, Winston, Winston, Jenifer, Burnell, Rockyfellar, Hart, Bornan, and Jim, from Virginia ; Dixon, Dixon, Gathwait, Heddenburg, Pierren, Meeker, Martin and Henry, from Louisiana; Dougherty, Dougherty, Green, Faras, Parker, Campbell and George from Texas these, including our mess, formed our little company. Some thought it rather rash to attempt passing through the Comanche country with so small a force, but all agreed that our animals would fare better, and we would be more likely to get along in harmony, (both of which proved true). Distance, 30 miles 286.
Saturday, May 6.
Started at 8 o’clock. Traveled over a perfectly level plain. The road being good, we made excellent time. The road is so much better than that we have been traveling over for the last five weeks, that we scarcely know when to stop. We are now fairly launched upon the plains, and if “wind and tide” favor us, we will “probably live” to see the end of our journey. We were obliged to leave the road a mile or more this evening, for the purpose of encamping with wood and water. Rain and heavy thunder showers during the night. Distance, 30 miles 286.
Sunday, May 6.
In the course of today’s travel, there was frequently not a tree or shrub in sight. Passed through a large prairie dog village; the earth was very spouty and damp where they had burrowed. We saw a number that were apparently guarding their habitations, but turned in upon our approach. We did not succeed in killing any. They are said to be delicious eating. Encamped on a ravine and had good water and feed. Distance, 15 miles 295.
Monday, May 7.
Left camp at 8 o’clock, shortly reached and crossed the Canadian river; it has the same singular, turbid appearance, and quicksand bed. The road today has been very good. This route has never been traveled before, so that our course is merely marked out and not a solid road. There are probably 20 wagons in advance of us. We are now in the Comanche Indian range, but as yet have seen but few traces of them, or rather it may be considered neutral ground between the savage and half -civilized Indian tribes. Game is very scarce, and although there have been at one time vast numbers of buffalo on these plains, yet as civilization advances this animal retreats toward the setting sun. We have pitched our camp upon a high point, where the horizon does not appear to be more than a half mile distant on all sides. Distance, 20 miles 315.
Tuesday, May 8.
Our course today lay over a high, level plain, very solid, which made the wheeling good. We passed a great number of natural mounds today, of various shapes, which gave the landscape an odd, romantic appearance. The mounds are composed of a red colored, rotten sandstone, and earth of the same nature and color. The grass on the plains is short, but very nourishing to our animals. Water and wood have been very scarce today; we almost despaired of finding a place to encamp until 4 p.m., when we crossed several ridges of white stone, which we decided to be plaster; the grass appearing to be more fresh, and we soon found water and wood enough to answer all purposes. The former, however, was so hard that we could scarcely use it. Today we saw the first traces of buffalo their watering places, fresh dung, and newly cropped grass; and about 3 o’clock, saw seven bulls feeding about a mile from the road. At that moment what would I not have given for a good horse; I could have exclaimed “a horse! a horse! a kingdom for a horse!” As it was, I could but witness the sport. Several of the men gave chase, and succeeded in killing one, and wounding three more. We found seventeen bulls grazing behind a small mound, within one-fourth of a mile of camp. Messrs. Fitzhugh and Winston wounded one of them, pursued him several miles, and finally killed him, but did not reach camp until late at night. During the day we had also killed a deer, turkey, prairie chicks, and ducks, and we are enjoying a bounteous feast this evening. If our situation was known by our friends at home, they would certainly envy us. The bull meat, however, proved rather tough; otherwise it resembled beef, excepting the wild flavor. Wolves, rattlesnakes and toads abundant. Distance, 20 miles 335.
Wednesday, May 9.
Crossed several deep and difficult ravines today, and encamped on a stream running in a S. E. direction. It is about 20 yards wide, and we suppose a branch of Red River. The water is very red, turbid and unfit for use. Fortunately, we had filled one of our India rubber bags during the day, which served us for cooking. Jerking our venison and buffalo meat this evening. We have very fine grass at this camp. Caught some fine catfish and soft shelled turtle in the stream. The weather is very warm, and I find walking all day pretty tiresome work. Passed the remains of a horse, left by some company in advance of us. Distance, 16 miles 351.
Thursday, May 10.
Passed over a high rolling prairie; the few shrubs that grow in the “arroyos” are in full bloom, which served to cheer the monotony of this vast waste. Found but little water, gathered a mess of mushrooms for supper. Encamped upon a small running stream, of very red water. It will not affect soap. Distance, 20 miles 371.
Friday, May 11.
Rain this morning; cleared off, and we started; weather very warm and sultry. About 2 o’clock we, were met by a most terrific hail storm; there was a constant stream of lightning and peal after peal of thunder; ice fell to the depth of two inches in a few minutes. Our animals were so frightened as to be unmanageable, and they ran, with the wagon, in every direction over the prairie, and when the storm ceased, some of us were out of each other’s sight. I had on an India rubber cap, and my head was sore for several days afterwards from the beating of the hail. Some of the men happening to have some brandy with them, iced it, and drank “hail storm.” Found a deserted wagon. It appears by a handbill left upon it, that it was owned by a mess of three, one of whom had strayed off, and was supposed to have been killed by the Indians, the other two had abandoned the wagon, and started in search of their comrade. Thus far we have had but little trouble with our animals. Immediately after encamping, we turned them out to graze until dark, under guard. We then tie them up, and guard them during the night, and loose them early in the morning. We generally form our wagons into a “corral,” put the animals inside, and our fires on the outside. Although we apprehend but little danger from the Indians, it is best to be prepared. Distance, 18 miles 389.
Saturday, May 12.
Encamped this evening on the banks of the Canadian river. The water is very blackish and ill-tasted, but we are obliged to use it. The plains which heretofore were covered with grass, wild flowers and odorous plants, have become barren and hilly; and traveling is much impeded by deep arroyos and sand hills. Distance, 20 miles 409.
Sunday, May 13.
Remained in camp today, to rest, and graze our wearied animals. We very much need rest ourselves. Washing our clothes, and preparing for another week’s travel.
Monday, May 14.
Started early, and traveled on, and near the bank of the Canadian all day. We now find it necessary to keep near the river, to find water and grass. Passed a number of mounds. Encamped on a small pool of water, near a deserted Indian encampment, which is not 10 days old. There had been 18 lodges. Distance, 30 miles 439.
Tuesday, May 15.
Opposite our camp on the other bank of the river, there is a desert of sand, entirely destitute of vegetation. It resembles a snow drift, having no doubt been formed by high winds. It is several miles square. There appears to be as much water in the Canadian, here, as there was 200 miles below. I suppose it loses as much by evaporation, as it gains by the few streams, that put into it for that
distance. In all respects it retains the same appearance, excepting that the growth of cotton wood on its banks is more sparse. We have not as yet resorted to “buffalo chips” for fuel, but I find that one answers the purpose of a writing desk at present. Distance, 16 miles 455.
Wednesday, May 16.
Our course today has been along the flat of the river, which in places is very narrow, and in other a half mile broad. Occasionally we come across a patch of good grass. For several days we have crossed no streams putting into the river. The sand in our road is very heavy, and the weather hot, which makes traveling very laborious upon man and beast. Passed a number of large mounds upon the plains which resembled the former ones. We are much annoyed by sand flies and gnats. Saw some wild flax, and a great variety of wild flowers, some of which were rare and beautiful. Grapes grow in abundance, and a few dwarf plums. The scalp of an emigrant was taken a few days ago, by the Indians, and hung upon a pole in the road. It was by a company in advance of us. They probably thought to frighten us by this act of hostility, but will find out to the contrary. A hailstorm this morning and a heavy shower threatens this evening. Distance, 20 miles 475.
Thursday, May 17.
We have traveled along the banks of the river for several days. About noon today we crossed a large branch, which was much swollen, and very cold on account of the recent hail storm. Our general rule for traveling is as follows: Start at 8 o’clock in the morning, and continue without intermission until 4 p.m., when we encamp, and graze our mules, until 8, then tie them up until 4 in the morning, and again start at 8. Distance, 20 miles 495.
Friday, May 18.
Overtaken by a pack mule company this morning. Road very heavy, caused by the recent rains. Saw some beautiful specimens of “cactus” in bloom they were several colors, but principally yellow. I have suffered severely from toothache for several days; contrary to all rules it commenced after all our sugar had run out. We are getting scarce of bread stuff, but have plenty of bacon and beans. Distance, 20 miles 515.
CHAPTER VI.
Saturday, May 19.
The country presents a rough, broken and very barren appearance. There is a species of rank grass growing on the flats of the river; one stock that I measured out of curiosity was 27 feet long. Crossed a large, dry branch of the Canadian to-day, and it was with difficulty that the mules dragged the wagons through it. We see a great many of “Captain Lee’s Mexican toads” on our way. Pitched our tent in time to escape a soaking. Distance 15 miles 530.
Sunday, May 20.
The wind is very high, which has blown the sand over everything, ruining our victuals, etc. The grass is poor, and of a salty nature, and the water is strongly impregnated with salt. Although we had proposed remaining here over Sabbath, some of the company, considering our situation, were in favor of moving; a vote was taken and decided to travel. The flat on the river appeared to end here, and we were obliged to ascend a high and very steep bluff. Continued traveling over a high barren plain; crossed one small stream and passed small spring of good water, where some of us fortunately filled our kegs, canteens, etc., for we were obliged to encamp upon the plains, without wood or water, not a tree or shrub to be seen as far as the eye can reach over the barren waste. We are getting out of the buffalo range, but succeeded in finding enough dung to boil our coffee, by carrying the sack full of “chips” about two miles. When perfectly dry it is a good substitute for wood, and our cooking was very palatable. We have been traveling south to-day. Distance, 20 miles 550.
Monday, May 21.
The first day we have escaped a shower since we left Choteau’s. No dew fell last night, and we had to drive several miles out of our way this morning to procure water. We have seen very little or no game for several days. What the Creator designed this barren portion of the world for is more than I can imagine, unless, like the deserts of Africa, it was thrown in “to fill up.” The road was heavy and we made but little progress. Encamped early, with an abundance of good wood, water, and grass. Here we came upon an old wagon road, which we afterwards learned was the route traveled by Mexican traders into the Indian country. Distance, 15 miles 565.
Tuesday, May 22.
Some of the company anxious to “lie by” to-day, but again decide by vote to travel, and accordingly started; ascended a high range of hills and kept along the backbone, over a solid gravel road. Encamped at half past one o’clock; had good grass, water, and some wood. Shortly after we had pitched our tents, we were visited by three Mexicans; they were rough looking fellows and the first we had seen. They said they lived at a ranch ten miles to the south, but could speak no English. A sight of them, however, was cheerful, and we began to think we were near the borders of Mexico. The weather has been pleasant today, with a good breeze from the west. Walter Winston has been very unwell for some days, but is recovering. The faces of some of the party, bitten by gnats and sandflies, are dreadfully swollen, and very painful. Today we saw a new variety of prickly pears or cactus, that grew in the form of a bush. It had some fruit upon it; curiosity prompted some of us to taste it; we were soon satisfied, and came away with our mouths stuck full of small barbs, which we could not extract. We have already decided to pack from Santa Fe, if we can procure the necessary outfit at that place. Weather uncomfortably warm. Distance, 15 miles 580.
Wednesday, May 23.
Visited this morning by several Mexicans; one of them spoke pretty good English. He has been in the employ of Americans for 25 years, and made a trip to California years ago. Some years since, he was employed by “Boyl Drake” (formerly of Lewisburg), to assist him to take 12 live buffaloes to the East for exhibition. Maj. Green had seen them to [at] Philadelphia, and recognized the Mexican although he has since lost an eye, and is otherwise disfigured. Our course nearly S. W., over hard gravel plains. Prairie dogs abundant. Encamped on a small pool of standing water. Distance, 20 miles 600.
Thursday, May 24.
The country presents the usual appearance to-day. Traveled 9% hours; crossed a small stream, where we supplied ourselves with wood and water, and went further in search of grass. Ascended several large hills, and continued our course over a high plain; annoyed by a very high wind, which impeded our motion, and filled our eyes with sand. Finding it impossible to keep a hat upon my head, I laid it aside, and received the scorching rays of the sun upon my bare pate. Dr. Winston shot an antelope to-day, the meat of which was pronounced the most tender and delicious we had ever eaten. They are a beautiful animal and as fleet as the wind; we see a good many of them, but they are difficult to kill. Encamped near some puddles of wretched water, the grazing very indifferent. Distance, 25 miles 625.
Friday, May 25.
Passed over a broken and barren plain to-day. The grass is fast drying up. About 1 o’clock we came to a rocky chasm in the bottom of which there was a little water, which was a God-send, for we were very much in need of it. Millions of swallows inhabit these rocks, attaching their nests to them; in one place, under a large overhanging rock, there were a great many hieroglyphics, painted and carved in the stone, imitating persons, beasts, birds, reptiles, and one in particular, which we supposed was intended to represent the evil spirit; there were also a great number of large stone crucibles lying about; what they were used for was more than we could discover. Altogether it is a strange, wild, and picturesque place. There are recesses in the rocks that would shelter and hide thousands of persons. From the numerous trails about it we suppose it to be a great resort of the Indians, to trade with the Mexicans. There were 17 of the latter encamped amongst the rocks, who offered to sell us corn, tobacco, etc.; they pack it hither upon mules and asses. Our road from this point appears much plainer. These Mexicans said they were out upon a trading expedition with the Comanches. They asked $2.50 per bushel for corn, and sixpense apiece for their hard, black-looking crackers. They informed us that we were yet 200 miles distant from Santa Fe, but we doubted their word, supposing it to be to their interest to sell us their merchandise. We are encamped upon a puddle of water, with a little wood, and poor grass. We have not more than three days supply of breadstuffs on hand. Distance, 25 miles 650.
Saturday, May 26.
Started at the usual time this morning, and traveled until 7*4 p.m.; finding no water except one pool which was too salty for use; some of us suffered very much from thirst. We did not encamp until after dark, when a little water was found in a rocky ravine a mile from camp; we did not get all the animals watered until midnight, then made a cup of tea and “turned in,” after a hard day’s travel, and our difficulties were soon forgotten in a sound sleep. We met another gang of Mexican traders to-day. A pack-mule company ahead of us, in searching for water, became separated, and lost to each other. The Mexicans also became scattered, being also in search of water. High wind during the night. Distance, 33 miles 683.
Sunday, May 27.
We have had but one day’s rest since leaving Choteau’s, and concluded to remain in camp to-day. The reason we have not stopped oftener is that we have never found good water, or grass enough for our animals, and being in hopes of finding better every day. Our great objection to this route across the plains will be the scarcity of food. How large companies will fare, I can not tell; but I think that many an ox-team will never reach Santa Fe. Mules endure thirst much better than cattle. The range of the Rocky mountains that runs through New Mexico, is in sight in the west. One large peak has the appearance of a perfect dome, and others have peculiar shapes. There is a long range of bluffs to the south of us, covered with a small growth of cedar. I have been interested to-day in reading Bryant’s “What I saw in California.” The portion that treats on his journey across the plains agrees pretty well with our experience, except that three great necessaries water, grass and wood, were more abundant on his route, and his road being a plain, well beaten one. Our tent was blown down by the storm last night.
Monday, May 28.
The wind was very high during the night, and when I awoke this morning was almost suffocated with sand. While the storm was raging, we were alarmed by cries of distress near our camp; we answered and groped our way toward them as well as we could in the dark; their continued cries served to guide us to them, when we found them to be a company of Mexicans, who had been scattered and driven out of their way by the storm. They were very much alarmed, and did not move from the spot until daylight. This morning a company of emigrants with six wagons overtook us and turned in to encamp, where we had left. They had been without water since the morning before. We have had a comfortable breeze today, and our course had led over a rather barren plain, broken by mounds and rocky peaks, amongst which we wound our way. One cluster of conical shaped mounds rising up, one behind the other, reminds me of a picture upon the cover of my old school atlas, representing the heights of the different mountains in the world. The general scenery to-day has been grand, gloomy and picturesque. We are now obliged to use the dry branches of the cactus for fuel. Found some wild peas today, of which our animals are very fond; passed through some patches of wild flax, and saw a great variety of wild flowers, but being no botanist I can not give their names; they are altogether strange to me and peculiar to the country and climate. Encamped on a small dry stream, in the bed of which were a few holes of water, so salty that we could scarcely use it; but stern necessity compels us to drink or die. Some wood and grass. Distance, 18 miles 701.
Tuesday, May 29.
To-day our road ran through a valley bounded on the north, west and south by high peaks, pyramid-shaped hills and mounds, covered with a scrubby growth of cedars; the grass is all dried up, and we found no water until 4 o’clock p.m., when we came to a ditch filled with red, muddy water. Our animals drank without measure; when I tasted, I found it so nauseous that I could not drink. We were obliged to encamp and make the most of it. This is a watering place for a flock of several thousand sheep, which are grazed in the neighborhood, and driven into a natural fold in the mountain, where they are watched by shepherds and dogs. The plain to-day has been covered with bear grass; the root resembles a pineapple, from which a large top of coarse grass springs up, very sharp at the ends. The animals are afraid of it and turn out of its way when in the road. A stalk grows out of the center, to the height of several feet, bearing a white, drooping flower. Distance, 20 miles 721.
Wednesday, May 30.
While the teams were passing through the outlet of the valley, I clambered to the top of one of the high ridges. The mountains appear to be composed of red sand, or granite rock; those uppermost were very much washed and worn by water, although from the present parched appearance of the country it would be natural to think that it is never visited by rain. I found some rich specimens of iron ore, of which mineral there is undoubtedly a great abundance in these mountains. Saw a number of mocking birds, and it did me good to hear these little songsters, imitating the various birds of the country; I only regretted that I could not listen to them any longer. Shortly afterwards, we found the country more broken. Cedar appears to be the only wood, except a few scrubby pines, the odor of which, when we broke the twigs, resembles a good, ripe apple. Passed a large flock of sheep and goats, herded by dogs and several wretched looking Mexicans. We purchased a sheep for $1.50 and a lamb for half price; the mutton tasted very good. The wool grown in this country is remarkably coarse, no regard being paid to its improvement, although the country is well adapted to wool-growing. Here we found a basin of water in the rock, strongly impregnated with salt and “sheepishness.” We watered our stock and proceeded until 6 o’clock, when we encamped (as we supposed) without food or water, but found a small spring of water about a mile from camp, where we obtained a scanty supply. Cactus for fuel. Distance, 25 miles 736.
Thursday, May 31.
The country to-day has the usual rough, hilly appearance; sun very powerful this morning, and not a breath of air stirring. Overtook a pack-mule company who had lost the greater part of their stock during the night; they were in an unpleasant situation, and we agreed to carry a part of their baggage to the first Mexican town. Found no water until evening, when we encamped on a oure, running stream, about 20 feet wide, very deep and swift. We did not learn the name of it, but no doubt it finds its way to the Rio Grande; it heads in the mountains to the north, and is very cold. This is the first running water we have crossed in a distance of 200 miles, and, together with the old-fashioned romantic mountain scenery around us, it had a cheering effect upon us. Used the small green willows that grew upon the bank of the stream for fuel. Distance, 25 miles 771.
CHAPTER VII
Friday, June 1.
Crossed the stream and ascended a long sloping hill, surrounded on all sides by a rough, mountainous country. The grass in the small valleys is very short, owing to the vast amount of stock that is grazed here. Passed through large herds of cattle and sheep. At the top of the hill we found a small, cool spring, gushing up from the rocks, the water slightly impregnated with sulphur; shortly afterwards, came to a “fork” in our road. Here we were in a dilemma, not knowing which to oursue; after several hours delay, we concluded to “go it blind.” Encamped on a small plain; found a small pool of water about a mile from camp, but not enough for our stock. There was a shepherd’s camp near us, of whom we procured some of the richest milk I ever drank, and what a luxury! They inform us that we are within a few miles of San Miguel. 26 Distance, 18 miles 789.
Saturday, June 2.
Started early this morning, in expectation of seeing some place very soon, but did not reach “town” until late in the afternoon; passed two Mexican ranches on the way; if all the inhabitants of New Mexico live in a similar manner, they are to be pitied. Their miserable mud-dwellings do not compare with the more comfortable log cabins of the colonized Indians, on the border of the States. This country and its inhabitants are certainly “pretty accessions” to the property and influence of “Uncle Sam.” Here we saw a rich specimen of the packing business; several jackasses were loaded with about 400 pounds of corn each, and driven off to market. Here we also saw some of the effects of missionary labor. A Mexican woman had several fine looking white children clinging around her; their father, she said, was an “American missionary,” but he had “vamoosed” to the states poor woman! Before reaching San Miguel, we came out upon the Santa Fe and Independence road. It is better than any macadamized road I ever saw in the states, being broad, smooth and solid. Crossed Pacos river, a large tributary of the Rio Grande; it is about thirty yards wide, and rapid. The water is good, and very cold, caused by the snow melting off the mountains to the north, the white capped peaks of which are in sight. San Miguel is situated on this river. It is composed of about seventy-five adobe hovels, one story high, all the outbuildings (if they have any) being within the same walls. There are several stores of groceries in the place, their principal business being the sale of inferior liquor, at a “bit” a glass. We encamped near the town; there is no grass within miles of the place, but we were lucky in getting some corn at $1.50 per bushel; it is very inferior to the corn raised in the states. The only land in the vicinity that can be cultivated is the narrow flats along Pacos river, and there it requires irrigation. Walked into town this evening to “see the sights.” Our attention was soon attracted to a “Fandango,” open to all, and especially to American emigrants. This was a curiosity to me; it was certainly a shade faster than anything of the kind I had ever seen before a medley of Mexicans and Americans, dancing upon a ground floor with the “Marguerettas” of the country, the face of each of these ornamented with a cigarette. Some of their dances were pretty, keeping remarkably good time with the music, the gentlemen being obliged to treat their partners to a glass of wine at the end of each set. But the “noise and confusion,” heat, smoke, dust, fumes of liquor, and the strange “lingua,” made it sorry enjoyment for me, and I left the scene of merriment at an early hour. Distance, 11 miles 800.
Sunday, June 3
Concluded to remain here until tomorrow. Purchased some Mexican bread, which was very good with one exception, being sour. The Virginia and Louisiana messes started for Santa Fe today. We are anxious to travel with pack animals from Santa Fe; had an offer of three mules each for our wagons, which we accepted with the privilege of hauling our baggage to Santa Fe, fifty miles distant. “Attended church” today Catholic, of course. The building is a large adobe finished in the most rude style of architecture, the floor covered with rough boards upon which all kneel, having no seats or benches. Thousands of swallows were flying and “twittering” about the room during service. The images and paintings were of the most ridiculous design and finish. It is a gloomy edifice throughout, and well suited to the ignorant minds that pretend to worship God after the manner of that sect. It is said the Padre defrauds these poor deluded people out of $25,000 a year. Thus it is with their “churches” throughout New Mexico. It is amusing to see the country people coming in, three or four mounted on one little mule.
Monday, June 4
Engaged today in exchanging our trunks, and other things we wished to dispose of, for pack saddles, lariats, skins, blankets, and other articles necessary for packing. I procured a “mustang pony” for my trunk. This evening we heard a shot fired in town, which was followed by a distressing cry of “0 Lord!” We hurried in, and found that a cold-blooded murder had been committed. A man named Rob’t Stanfield had deliberately shot Joseph Kane, captain of a pack-mule company. There were several eye witnesses to the deed. He fired a fowling-piece, at ten feet distance, two balls entering the back, and coming out just above the heart. An inquest was held over the body by twelve Mexicans who went about it rather awkwardly, this being the first case of the kind that had ever happened under the U. S. laws. 28 Mules can be purchased at this place, from $50 to $100 each. California gold has affected this country also, for before the emigration commenced they could have been bought for from $25 to $40 each.
Tuesday, June 5
Employed as yesterday. Bought a Mexican saddle for $25. We are very much annoyed by high winds, which blow the sand all over us, into our victuals, etc. This evening our new mules were brought up. They are small, -but we have no doubt a pretty good bargain. A large train of wagons has come up, and encamped near us. All are anxious to pack the balance of the way. A wagon will not command a good mule, the market being already overstocked with them. The man with whom we exchanged designs moving down the Rio Grande into Old Mexico, not liking the laws of the United States.
Wednesday, June 6
Struck camp this morning, and left for Santa Fe. High winds which keep up a constant cloud of sand in the roads; the weather very cool, being in the range of the Rocky mountains. Encamped on a small rivulet, as clear as crystal and as cold as ice, near the village of Pacos [Pecos], which is now in ruins: There was formerly a large church here, and it was a place of considerable note, the buildings were of adobe (the timber of cedar), some of them apparently three stories high. There are a number of very large cisterns in the place, walled with stone, and cemented. This camp furnished no grass for our animals. Distance, 25 miles 825.
Thursday, June 7
This morning, one of our mules was missing; in searching for him, I found some bunches of grass, growing beneath the walls of Pacos, which I cut with my knife, and packed it along in a blanket. I strayed several miles from the road, and did not overtake the wagons until the afternoon. I had been as far as the Rio Pacos. There is a small but beautiful valley at this point on the river, with a number of ranches scattered over it; they appeared to have a good deal of land under cultivation. Met the U. S. Mail on the way to Independence; they expected to go through in from 16 to 20 days. 33 I had no letters written; Musser and Armstrong were more fortunate, and embraced the opportunity of sending news to their friends at home. Our course had been north, amongst the mountains, the ascent being very gradual with a good road. Crossed one pretty high mountain.
The first object that attracted our attention, as we neared Santa Fe, was the American “stars and stripes” floating in the breeze. A descending road into the place, which is situated in a narrow valley, on a small stream of water, surrounded by an apparently barren country, and hills of the same nature; in the distance, mountains towering to the clouds, whose snow-clad peaks gave nature a chilling
appearance, although the day was very warm. The somber appearance of the town, built entirely of unburnt adobes, the scope of country, stretching for leagues to the S. W., and enveloped in haze, inspired us with rather gloomy sensations; however, we could not but feel gratified that we had reached the important point in our journey. On entering the place we noticed handbills, advising emigrants to put up at the United States hotel, for comfort, convenience, good living, etc. Of course this was “something to our minds,” and we drew up before the “U. S.” As for comfort and convenience, the quarters, in which about 30 of us were stored with our baggage, is a small uncleansed stable, infested with fleas, bedbugs and other vermin, the stench being horrible. Distance, 25 miles 850.
Friday, June 8
Boarding $1 a day and fed upon mutton. The weather comfortable at this place, and the atmosphere very oure. Fresh meat hung out in the air will keep sound until used, or dried up. Corn is worth $3 per bushel and very scarce. We are obliged to purchase hay for our mules in small billets, packed in upon asses, at the rate of $100 per ton. Provisions are very cheap, the quartermaster of the army (it is said) lost about $30,000 during the winter, by gambling; to make up his loss, he had a sufficient amount of government stores “condemned,” and was selling them to emigrants at low rates, although everything was of the best quality. We bought good American flour at $6 a hundred; bacon at 12^ cents per lb., etc. It was a lucky piece of rascality for the emigrant. All kinds of merchandise is very low, and business dull, at present. Competition has produced a stagnation in trade. There are a large number of stores and groceries in the place, certainly more than will ever make fortunes. Immense quantities of goods, that were prevented from entering Old Mexico at the close of the war, have been brought back to this place, completely glutted the market. Having read of the vast wealth and trade of Santa Fe, and the fortunes that had been made here, our curiosity ran high, but we were disappointed. The appearance and condition of the place, do not correspond with its fame. Having disposed of our wagons, and not being anxious to remain long in town, we prepared to pack our provisions and chattels, and employed a man to give us the first lesson in the art. We made our sacks out of tanned buffalo hides, and purpose putting about 200 Ibs. weight upon each mule. The Mexicans are skilled in the art of packing. We employed one to go through with us, at $12 per month. We have now 22 head of horses and mules.
Saturday, June 9
Busily engaged in weighing, sacking our “traps,” and making preparations to start as soon as possible. The Virginia mess have driven their stock out into the country to graze.
Sunday, June 10
Santa Fe is a very immoral place. The population is composed of Mexicans, Indians and foreigners from all parts of the world. The public square and gambling houses are crowded with idle loungers, male and female; the character of but few of the latter will bear a virtuous test. Several Fandangoes are in full operation all the while. The senorettas are of all castes and sorts, from Indians up to oure Spanish. Some of the California- bound boys enjoy these sports, and lavish their money freely upon amusement. Many of them, however, will find this the “sticking point;” the funds of some have been exhausted in getting thus far, and being obliged to change the mode of travel and renew their stock of provisions, they cannot go on. Others have been induced to deposit what they had left in the “monte banks,” which are unsafe, non-paying institutions. Some more prudent than others have gone to the gold mines in the” vicinity, where they can make from one to five dollars a day, in hopes of raising enough to continue their journey. I saw a specimen of the gold obtained from these mines; it is in scales, of different sizes, though generally very small, clean and bright, and is worth $18.50 per ounce in Santa Fe. The place is some forty miles distant. This market is completely overstocked with wagons, but mules are very high, commanding from $60 to $100 per head. As at Fort Smith, rumors are afloat, that the Apache and other Indians are very hostile on our route, and the most of the emigrants are in favor of forming in large companies. One company is about employing Mackintosh, a half-breed Indian, and somewhat noted as a mountaineer; he agrees to guide them through, by the “Spanish Trail,” in sixty days, for the sum of $800. We have again determined not to travel with a large company, let the consequence be what it will. Saw Mr. Aubrey, a merchant of this place, the man that rode from Santa Fe to Independence, a distance of 800 miles, in 5 days and 10 hours. He is a French Canadian. It appears that we are yet almost as far from California as the Fort Smith circulars made the distance through from that place. Some of the emigrants are starting north, to intersect the Independence route; others are going by the Spanish trail, or middle route; but the majority take the southern route, or those traveled by Kearney, Cook, etc.; while a few have already turned their faces homeward, and more intend doing so. Money is a very essential article in a strange country, and many have made short calculations, which now puts them to great inconvenience. We have concluded to go Kearney’s route, and follow his trail, or employ guides if we can get them from different points.
At 12 o’clock we were ready to lash on our packs, which occupied two hours. We then started, and after considerable difficulty with our mules, we got out of town. This is a novel mode of traveling to me, but I suppose we will become accustomed to it. Our animals were almost starved in that “poverty-stricken” place, and it is with difficulty we can get them along; they wanted to stop at every patch of grass. The road runs S. W., and the appearance of the country improves as we advance. There are some miniature valleys amongst the rolling hills in which there is a little grass. Passed several ranches, and encamped near one, on a small run of good water. Distance, 17 miles 867.
Monday, June 11
Remained in camp, for the purpose of grazing our animals. Wrote letters; I had no shade, and used the earth for a writing desk. It was a difficult task, and I was annoyed by a young Mexican boy, who wanted me to learn him to talk and write “Americano.” We purchased an unbroken mule for Fernando to ride; he found it very difficult to conquer, and gave us some rare specimens of Mexican horsemanship. The first thing is to blind the animal (which is of the greatest advantage), then saddle and bridle him, putting on all the trappings, then he mounts, raises the blind, and instead of checking sinks the sours into his side, and suffers him to run until fairly tamed down. Having no tent, we are now obliged to “bivouak” in “all out-doors,” with the heavens for a counterpane, and the earth for a mattress. The sun, during the day is very hot, and the nights cool.
Tuesday, June 12
The country around our camp, abounds in the long-eared hare, which is the only game we see; we killed several; they were very fine eating. Started at 12 o’clock in a southern direction, through barren hills, and over a rough country. Found the Virginia mess encamped in a valley on a small creek; here we concluded to stop, and graze our animals until all our old company would get together. The grass is very short and poor, and the water in the stream very brackish. Distance, 15 miles 882.
CHAPTER VIII
Wednesday, June 13.
We are within six miles of the old Santa Fe gold placer; some of our men visited it; found some emigrants encamped there; they took a small basin with them, and in one washing procured at least fifty cents worth of oure gold. Time passes very tediously when lying in camp in such a desolate country as this.
Thursday, June 14.
Green, Howard and myself returned to Santa Fe to-day, for the purpose of purchasing a few articles we had forgotten, and procuring additional information regarding our route. A large company that had started on the Spanish trail have returned, finding it impossible to cross the streams, which are very much swollen. They lost a great deal of baggage and provisions in their unsuccessful attempts; they are preparing to go the southern route.
Friday, June 15.
Lodged during the night at the U. S. hotel. Had a cot but no bedding. The fleas which abound here, annoyed me very much, and I passed a restless night. Indulged in a glass of what they call ice cream (it deserved no such name), and paid 50 cents for it. Left town about 12 o’clock to-day, and reached camp about sundown, a distance of 30 miles. Met some very heavy trading teams, on their way to town from Chihuahua.
Saturday, June 16.
Had a slight shower last night, which is the first rain that has fallen upon us for months. The rainy season is about setting in here, which lasts until some time in August. Everything here appears to be suffering from drought. Find employment in fitting up our packs, and arranging to start on the morrow. Our packs do not average more than 150 pounds to each animal. The Mexicans frequently pack from 300 to 400. We are anxious to move.
Sunday, June 17.
Did not start this morning, on account of Walter Winston, who returned to Santa Fe, to remain there until he recovers from a severe asthma, which he has been afflicted with since the early part of the journey. The Louisiana mess came up and encamped with us to-day. We now number about the same as before.
Monday, June 18.
After a long delay, everything being in readiness we started about 9 o’clock this morning. The Virginia mess had a great deal of difficulty, their packs falling off, turning, etc.; they packed upon “aparahoes,” and we had Indian pack-saddles, the latter are more simple and suited our purpose better, not being skilled in the art. We travelled a few miles up the valley, then took a S.W. course through the mountains, following a trail. Found no water until we reached the new placers, where we encamped. These mines are said to yield abundantly, but owing to the scarcity of water, they cannot be worked to advantage. At present, the few men that are at work, employ Mexicans to pack the water up, upon asses, a distance of three miles. I saw a vial full of the ore, that was worth $177. A few days ago, a man found two pieces that weighed $19.20. There are a number of miserable adobe buildings here, and about 150 inhabitants. We saw an old mountaineer here, whom we endeavored to employ as guide; but he said he would rather roam through the mountains, with his rifle, and when hungry kill a deer, lay beside it and eat until satisfied, and then continue on his lonely way; traveling with mules, he said, looked too much like work. Procured some eggs, milk and fresh bread here; very poor grazing. Distance, 20 miles 902.
Tuesday, June 19.
Started about 12 o’clock. The road is tolerably good; the country very mountainous. Passed through San Pedro, 44 a small ranchero containing about a dozen houses, about sixty acres of land under cultivation; the wheat looks well, about 15 inches high. Encamped near a ranch, where we found a spring of water, but no grass.
Saw some pine to-day, and a few oak saplings. This place is called San Antonio. There is an American living here, who is very comfortably situated in his adobe house; he raises grain, vegetables, etc., and makes lumber by horse power, for which he finds a ready market at Santa Fe. Distance, 15 miles 917.
Wednesday, June 20.
Our course S.W., through the mountains. We passed through San Antonio, containing about 150 inhabitants, and San Pedro, of about the same size. We traveled down the bed of a dry stream for several miles, and through some canons, the mountains on either side towering above the clouds. About 1 o’clock we emerged upon a large plain, sloping westward to the waters of the Rio Grande; here we had a beautiful display of that strange phenomena of nature, “mirage.” We imagined we distinctly saw the waters of the river, long before we came in sight of it, which we did not reach until 5 o’clock. We encamped on the flat, near the town of Albuquerque. This noble river, so celebrated in history of late years, is nearly a mile wide at this point. Its waters have been higher this season than ever known before, and although considerably abated, is still very much swollen, and more than bank full in many places. A pack-mule company of 80 men are about crossing at this place; they ferry their baggage and swim their mules. The current is very swift, the water cold, and of a muddy or turbid nature. Albuquerque contains about 300 inhabitants and is the most cleanly, respectable looking Mexican village we have yet seen. There is a detachment of U. S. soldiers quartered here. Two American gentlemen, Messrs. West and Beard, from Kentucky, settled here two years ago. They purchased the governor’s palace and expect to make a fortune in a few years. Labor is worth from $3 to $4 per month here, put of which the man is obliged to board himself. There is no wood in the neighborhood of the place, and it is worth about $30 per American cord; we paid $1.50 for enough to cook our supper and breakfast. The tillable land (what there is of it) produces well, and large herds of cattle, horses, mules, sheep and goats, feed upon the grass along the banks of the river; vegetables grow well here, and fruit comes to the greatest perfection. Distance, 25 miles 942.
Thursday, June 21.
Woke up this morning with my face very much swollen, caused by sleeping upon the damp ground, which had lately been overflowed. This morning a Dutchman by the name of John Franklin joined our company; he was very anxious to travel with us, being alone, and we took him along, more out of compassion than any other consideration. (He was a Polander by birth, and proved a very good fellow.) Started down the river this morning, which runs a due southern course. For the most part of the time we traveled through very heavy sand beds and hills, which was drifting, and almost suffocated us at times. This is the nature of the high ground on the east side of the river. As far as the eye can reach nothing but a bleak, barren continuation of sand hills is visible. We encamped this evening in a cottonwood grove, near a pool of water; had pretty good grazing for our animals. There is a large Mexican ranch near us, fine vineyard, fruit trees, etc.; the grove reminds me of an old Pennsylvania apple orchard all but the fruit. Captain Jennifer lost his pack mule this morning, with all his effects, and broke down his riding mule in search of it. Assembled this evening for the purpose of reorganizing our company, and electing a captain, Major Green’s term of office having expired when we reached the Rio Grande. After agreeing upon certain rules and regulations for the government of the company, James H. Dixon, of Baton Rouge, La., was duly nominated and elected captain, until we reached the “diggings.” Distance, 21 miles 963.
Friday, June 22.
Today we passed through Puerto, 51 and several smaller Mexican towns, which are scarcely worth a description, having about the same appearance and characteristics; saw some Indians along the river, who I suppose live upon fish; their huts consist of a few poles set upright, and tied together at the top, over which are thrown a few loose skins; they are almost naked, and are wretched looking objects. The channel of the river frequently narrows to 150 yards, where it runs very rapid, boiling, foaming and roaring, as its turbulent waters rush along. The sand hills frequently extend into the river, obliging us to cross them, and at times we cannot find the road for the drifting sand. We encamped on a flat, on the bank of the Rio Grande, where we had pretty good grazing for our stock, but were very much annoyed by mosquitoes, which swarm along the river in myriads, ready to attack any “flesh and blood” that may come in their way. Distance, 25 miles 988.
Saturday, June 23.
After passing a sleepless night, we were called up at 4 o’clock this morning; brought up our mules, eat breakfast, packed, and started at 6. Passed through Sabino, and other Mexican towns. Very unwell today; suffered very much from cold in my head, and a healed jaw, which produced a severe headache. I had a chill during the forenoon, and notwithstanding the sun was almost insufferably hot to the others, I was compelled to wear my overcoat. In the afternoon I had a smart fever, and frequently felt as though I would fall from my horse; I longed to reach an encamping place, which we did not find until dark. We stopped at noon on the bank of the river, where the grass appeared very good, but after unpacking and turning our stock loose to graze, we found that they would not eat it, being of a salty nature; we were exposed to the rays of a burning sun, without a particle of shade, and almost devoured by famished mosquitoes; they also attacked our stock, which threatened to “stampede;” and we were soon glad to repack, and continue our toilsome journey. Encamped near a small Mexican town, where we were supplied by the inhabitants with eggs at 3 bits a dozen, and goat’s milk at 2 bits a quart. I was pretty near a “used-up” lad when I reached camp. Distance, 35 miles 1023.
Sunday, June 24.
Remained in camp today. I busied myself in reading Emory’s Route from the Rio Grande to California; the journey is a more perilous one than I had any idea of, having never read a description of the Gila river route before. The citizens of the town have got up a Fandango this evening for our especial benefit, and invited all hands. After supper we started up. The senoretas did not make their “entree” until 9 o’clock. We found many of the inhabitants sleeping outside their dwellings for comfort, with small fires beside them to drive away the mosquitos. All the dwellings, walls, fences, etc., we have yet seen in New Mexico are composed of adobes. We frequently see the women upon the flat house tops, in the evening, with a shawl over their heads (their only headdress), reminding me of Bible descriptions of the manners and customs of the inhabitants of the east. Their agricultural implements are of the rudest kind; the most important article is a large steel hoe, (brought from the States), with which they build houses, cultivate crops, etc. It answers the several purposes of shovel, trowel and hoe. Their plow consists of a simple piece of crooked timber, with one handle, to which they attach a yoke of oxen, and stir up the earth. Their wagons are a more clumsy, uncouth looking machine than I could have imagined. The wheels are cut out of a solid log, and the whole cart is made without an ounce of iron.
Monday, June 25.
Reached Tome about 9 o’clock this morning, and prepared to cross the river. It is about 250 yards wide, and very rapid, at this point. The ferryman owned a large “dug out,” in which ourselves and baggage were crossed in safety, for the trifling sum of $8; we gave several Mexicans $3 to swim over with our animals. Everything was landed upon the opposite side, which occupied the remainder of the day, and we encamped upon the bank; slept within ten feet of the water and had a cool breeze off the river. Exchanged saddles with a Mexican today. Distance, 6 miles 1029.
Tuesday, June 26.
Started early; passed through Lamatad [Lemitar], which is situated opposite Tome. After traveling a few miles, encamped within a short distance of Socoro; but finding the grazing poor, we concluded to move to town, which we did this evening and encamped on the river, half a mile from the place, where we found good grass. We intend remaining here a day or two, to purchase and exchange mules, hire a guide to the Gila river, and supply ourselves with a few necessary articles, preparatory to setting out upon our yet long and somewhat hazardous journey, this being the last place of any consequence we will meet with. Distance, 8 miles 1037.
Wednesday, June 27.
Socoro contains about 200 or 300 inhabitants. There is a company of U. S. dragoons stationed here. The ‘flat on the river here is almost a mile wide, affording a good stock range. There appears to be but little land under cultivation about the place. The Mexicans are very indolent, and would rather starve “a little” than work; the amount of food necessary to keep an American alive, would feast half a dozen “greasers.” Socoro is a poor, destitute place. Some of our company succeeded in getting a little coarse corn melt [meal] at $6 per cwt. We exchanged seven pick axes, that we had brought from home for 4 pounds of sugar, the lot; jerked buffalo meat, 25 cents per pound; no mules for sale or barter; we can procure no guide at this place. A heavy shower threatened us, but ended in a gust of wind. Mr. Aubrey’s teams came up, and encamped on the opposite side of the river. The Virginian exchanged some animals with him.
Thursday, June 28.
Did not strike camp until 10 o’clock. When passing through Socoro, the mule that Fernando was riding threw him. “He thought himself killed,” but after examining, we found that he was not seriously hurt; settled with him, gave him a present of five dollars, and left him in charge of a nurse. Continued our course down the river, passing through Lopez and San Antonio. I met an old Mexican wood dealer, who offered me the best mule in his “caballada” and an old carbine, made in Lancaster, Pa., for my rifle. I needed the mule, but after a second thought, concluded not to part with my old friend. We tried to exchange our horses for mules at San Antonio, but the “greaser” asked two prices for his animals, and we were rather scarce on funds. We encamped on the river; had good grass, lots of mosquitoes, and used up a Mexican sheep-fold for fuel. Cloudy during the day, with a slight sprinkle of rain, which continued all night. Distance, 24 miles 1061.
Friday, June 29.
Remained in camp today. Engaged a Spaniard at San Antonio, to guide us as far as the Gila river, for which we are to pay him $60. We are anxious to be on the way, but our stock needs recruiting, and we are obliged to give them time. This evening we were “drawn out in military order” for the purpose of inspecting firearms, as we are soon to enter the country of the Apache Indians, and it is thought prudent to be on the lookout. We number 33 persons, and can fire 113 rounds at one discharge, besides which, we are pretty well armed with knives, etc. We also passed resolutions, with regard to the order of traveling, which will do “if observed.” Our stock numbers 85 head, which we purpose driving in three separate gangs, but as compact as possible; two mh are to ride some distance in advance of the company, as a “front guard,” and four behind, as a “rear guard,” the balance to lead and drive the mules. If any are obliged to stop to arrange packs, etc., the rear guard is not to pass them, but remain until this is done. A night watch to be appointed by the captain, whatever number may be required, to be on duty two hours each, also a person from each mess, to guard the stock, morning and evening, while grazing. Our guide came on this morning, but rain prevented our starting today.
CHAPTER IX
Saturday, June 30.
Rain during the night, very disagreeable; having no tent, or any kind of shelter, it is with difficulty we manage to keep our baggage and provisions dry. Started at 10 o’clock and travelled until 6, down the western side of the river. There is nothing but a trail to follow, and it would be impossible for wagons to get along here. The bottom land along the river becomes narrower as we travel down, and in many places the bluffs or table lands extend to the bank of the river. The country extending back is very broken and ends in a lofty chain of mountains; the appearance is very barren, but a short, dry grass grows here, which affords good pasture for sheep. The hills and plains are covered with a great variety of mezquite and other bushes, plants and flowers peculiar to the country, which are apparently all of a stunted growth. As we proceed down the river, the growth of cotton wood on its banks becomes more extensive, by which we can see the course of the river when a great distance from it. We encamped on the bank, where we had plenty of grass, wood and water. We are obliged to use the water of the Rio Grande, which would be excellent if filtered; the current carries a great quantity of sand with it, which makes the water dirty. Distance, 28 miles 1089.
Sunday, July 1.
Several very heavy showers last night; ourselves, blankets and everything else completely saturated. It was very cold during the night, which made it still worse. We suffered “awfully” and this morning look like a set of “drowned rats.” We are obliged to lay by to-day for the purpose of drying out. The sun is favoring us by shining out clear and warm. By 10 o’clock our baggage was dry and ready for packing, but the majority of the company preferred lounging in camp to travelling. We are now out of the “settlements,” our stock of provisions is light, and we can procure no more until we reach California. With the many examples of suffering and starvation on similar trips before us, it appears to me that it should be of the utmost importance to improve every moment that we can, without injury to our stock; but many persons are so indifferent to the future that they will not act until forced by “stern necessity.” By Lieut. Emory’s description, we suppose we are encamped upon the spot where Gen. Kearney stopped several days to pack and send his wagons back to Santa Fe; it is opposite Fra Christobal mountain, and the flat contains about 200 acres.
Monday, July 2.
Started at 7 o’clock this morning and made a pretty hard day’s march; heat very oppressive. We kept down the river, but for the most part of the day [our trail] was over the bluffs and through the arroyos that extend into it. The ascent and descent was very steep and rocky, which fatigued some of our stock and the packs frequently became disarranged; some of the company came into camp long after the main body. Game is very scarce; grass tolerable. Distance, 30 miles 1119.
Tuesday, July 3.
Travelled down the river 12 miles, and then bid farewell to the muddy waters of the Rio Grande del Norte, without a regret, although the road before us will no doubt be more difficult, and toil and suffering may be in store for us. Where we turned off there is a small flat, a high mountain on the opposite side, and the river canons immediately below. We suppose this is the place where Gen. Kearney left the Rip Grande. Our course is now S.W. We ascended a very high bluff and the country for some distance appeared level, but we soon found out to the contrary. We crossed some very deep and difficult arroyos, which was very fatiguing to ourselves and animals. Encamped in one of these tremendous gulches, at a distance of 12 miles from the Rio Grande. The water is very fine, warm when we stopped but cooled after sun-down; it is the best we have used for a long while. There is a variety of trees in this ravine, among them oak and walnut, both the trunks and fruits of which would be considered a burlesque upon the same species in Pennsylvania. We caught a few small fish in the stream, which tasted “natural.” The water sinks a short distance below our camp. The country along the Rio Grande, at this point, is very broken but does not present as forbidding an aspect as those vast plains along the Canadian river. There is here a good deal of timber in the ravines and the plains are covered with a variety of shrubbery, cactus, beargrass and gramma, a species of dry grass which is said to be very nutritious feed for animals. Distance, 24 miles 1143.
Wednesday, July 4.
No firing of cannon, ringing of bells, or other demonstration of joy this morning in this wild glen, to remind us, as formerly, of the dawn of the anniversary of our national birthday. Instead of making preparations to celebrate this ever welcome holiday in a manner most agreeable to ourselves, we are obliged to pack up, and be under way at 7 o’clock. Instead of listening to a patriotic oration, or joining in a picnic on the green amidst the fair forms and sweet smiles of the dear girls, the incessant “huppah mulah” is ringing in our ears as we plod along over the barren waste, or wend our way up and down the rocky heights. Instead of a bounteous dinner with our friends, or indulging in ice cream, mint julips, etc., we are confined to a scanty allowance of the bare necessaries of life, and wretched water from our heated canteens; and instead of being with and amongst our friends and acquaintances, enjoying all we are wont to do on similar occasions, we are an isolated band of adventurers, far away from civilization, in the midst of a savage country, inhabited by Indians, who are noted for their warlike and thievish propensities. But all this does not discourage us, although before starting from home we expected to eat a Fourth of July dinner in San Francisco. Our course is “westward,” our watchword “onward,” and we are determined as ever in prosecuting our journey, in hopes of reaching our destination, at least, “before the close of the year.” The general appearance of the country much as yesterday. We stopped at noon in a small valley covered with tule, in which there was a pond of water. Capt. Dixon called us together, as he said, to give us a 4th of July speech, instead of which, he tendered his resignation as captain of the company, saying that he had been elected for a week, and more than that time had expired. There was some misunderstanding about the matter. However, we elected him over again by a unanimous vote. When about leaving our nooning place, we were visited by a smart shower. Some of our stock is already “jaded,” and we are determined to lighten our packs by abandoning every article we can dispense with. This evening we made a bon fire of books, clothing, etc. We have tolerable water at this encampment, and our stock is feeding upon gramma. Distance, 20 miles 1163.
Thursday, July 5.
Ascending a long, narrow valley this morning, with a broken range of mountains on either side; at the head of this gentle slope we found a spring of cool, delicious water, and also met a family of Apaches. They were apparently much frightened on first seeing us, but saluted us in Spanish with the word “buena” (good), and made many signs of friendship. We returned the salutation, after which they came up to us. They spoke Spanish pretty well, and Capt. Dixon held a long talk with them, through our guide and interpreter. They said that any number of Americans could pass through their country without molestation, if they (the Americans) did not first give offense or trespass upon their natural rights. How much this can be relied upon is unknown, for they are said to be very deceitful Indians. I have no doubt, however, that in more than half the difficulties with the Indians, their enemies are the first aggressors. There was eight in number the old chief, his squaw, and children, all mounted on ponies; they had one gun, and all were armed with bows and arrows. Their dress was similar to that of the Indians on the frontiers of the States, except the blankets and some other articles, which were of Mexican manufacture. They were all bare-headed. The old squaw rode astride her animal, with a large basket of pannier lashed on each side, in one of which lay a papoose, as well contented as though rocked in the finest cradle of the east, encased with down. Their moccasins were beautiful, made of buff buckskin, and displayed a good bit of skill in the manufacture. After leaving the spring we crossed a high, dividing ridge, and descending by an indifferent trail through a long, rocky defile, between the mountains, for a distance of 10 miles. Our animals suffered severely and Mr. Burrell abandoned his riding horse, which had become entirely useless. We met several Mexicans driving a lot of sore-backed, broken-down horses and mules, which we suppose they had picked up along the trail, having been abandoned by parties of emigrants in advance of us. They have no doubt been brought here from the States, and if grazed for a few months will make first-rate stock. Encamped on the Rio Mimbres, a small mountain stream of clear, excellent water. We caught some of the trout which abound in it; they do not resemble the mountain trout of the States, being a black, scaly fish, and take the bait very freely. Our encampment is at the foot of the Dome a mountain so named by Lieut. Emory, which is very appropriate from its peculiar shape. There is a fine growth of grass on the flat, at which our stock is feasting. The Rio Mimbres is skirted with cottonwood, walnut and other timber. For several days we have been giving away, abandoning and making bon fires of as many articles as we conclude we can dispense with, for the purpose of reducing our packs. Our guide has “cached” a great many goods which we have given him, and intends packing them home on his return. He will be better supplied with cooking utensils, tools, clothing, etc., than any Spaniard I saw in New Mexico. Rain this evening. Distance, 22 miles 1185.
Friday, July 6.
On account of rain we did not start until 3 o’clock p.m. This morning we were visited by 12 Apaches, mounted upon fine ponies, armed with lances, bows, and arrows and knives. Some of our men showed an eagerness to trade with them, which they took advantage of and we could not effect a single exchange. We gave them a number of small presents and they remained about our camp until we started. One of the men wore an American officer’s “military undress” coat, for which he said he had given a fine mule. He appeared very dignified in his foreign dress. We took ‘a trail to the left of the Dome; Kearney’s route being on the right. We leave the copper and gold mines on the north, about a day’s journey distant. Saw several flocks of quails; they differ from those of the States in color, are somewhat larger, make a different noise, and the male bird has a beautiful “top knot” on the head. Our course lies over a comparatively level country. Passed through a deserted Indian village of about 50 wigwams; these consist of small rods or poles stuck in the ground at one end and lashed together with bark at the other, in the form of a bake oven, and about the same size; this frame is covered with grass. The grass on the plains is now dead, giving them the appearance of old stubble fields. Encamped on a tule swamp without wood, obtained a little water, “such as it was,” by digging a hole at the edge of the swamp and leaving it stand until settled. Distance, 15 miles 1200.
CHAPTER X
Saturday, July 7.
Started at daylight, intending to stop at the first wood and water we came to, but did not find any until 10 o’clock, when we encamped on a small ravine, near a spring of pretty good water. This was a hard day’s march on our animals. Howard’s riding horse gave out this afternoon, and he was obliged to leave him behind. Shortly after reaching our camping place we entered a narrow defile down which runs a small rill of clear water, surrounded on all sides by wild, savage-looking hills and mountains. We followed down the ravine for some distance in hopes of finding some grass for our animals. Maj. Green and Fox were some distance behind the company, bringing up a jaded mule, when suddenly several mounted Indians emerged from the hills and rushed upon them with poised lances. We being at too great distance to render them any aid in time concluded that it was “all day with them,” when the foremost Indian rode up alongside the Major and handed him a small paper, containing the articles of a “treaty” with the Americans, which was signed by some unknown persons. By this time other Indians began making their appearance around us, coming upon us from all quarters, simultaneously, rising out of the earth, as it were. They were all on horseback and well armed with guns, lances and bows and arrows. From their hostile appearance and manoeuvering we concluded that they meditated an attack upon us. As quickly as possible we “herded” our pack animals, around which we placed ourselves as guard, and commenced loading our guns and making preparations to repel an attack, in case any should be made. Seeing the cool manner in which we received their visits they made signs of friendship, and directed us to a good camping place. We did not put much confidence in their pretensions and watched them closely. They remained at a respectful distance until we had unpacked and prepared to cook supper; they then came around us and showed a disposition to trade. In the meanwhile a number of squaws had made their appearance, all seated astride their ponies leading mules and carrying baskets containing jerked horse meat and mezcal, which they wished to exchange for clothing, etc. This mezcal is prepared out of the bulb of a large plant of the same name, which is baked in a kiln and cut up into small slices to dry. It has a sweetish taste and is no doubt very nutritious, being their principal article of food. The mezcal wine, so common in Mexico, is a product of the same plant. We exchanged a number of worn-out stock for fresh, giving one, two and three for a good mule, and always some clothing, pistols or something else into the bargain. They had some very fine mules, but preferred horses, which favored us in exchanging. They were very eager to get strips or patches of red flannel, but preferred a white shirt to a red one. We procured a fine mule (American) of them, which had been left by Gen. Kearney three years ago. They were dressed in a variety of styles; some of the men wore a headdress trimmed with gray feathers, but the majority, and all the squaws, were bare-headed. What few articles of clothing they had were principally Mexican goods. Some of them wore buckskin shirts, others a simple breech cloth “girt about their loins,” while the children were entirely naked. They all wore moccasins, some of which extended almost to the knees. Some of their horses are “shod” with rawhide, to protect the hoof from the sharp stones. One of the squaws had a child lashed fast in a very roughly constructed wicker basket, which she swung upon her back by means of a band across her forehead. Out of curiosity some of us took particular notice of the papoose, caressing it, etc., which instead of flattering the mother, amused her very much. I suppose that their “lords” never deign to notice the papoose, thinking it out of place, unmanly, and beneath their dignity. Like all other Indian tribes, the females are the drudges. There was a boy amongst their number, about fifteen years old, that particularly attracted our attention. The color of his hair, complexion, features, etc., plainly bespoke that he was the child of white parents. By what means he came amongst these roving savages, is more than we can learn, but he was no doubt stolen by them when very young, for he cannot speak English and is not a Mexican. He appears more intelligent than the rest, who paid him a great deal of deference, consulting him in all their trades. He appeared very intimate with a good looking squaw of about the same age, who seemed to share his superiority. Her features were regular, with a fine, intelligent expression of countenance, only wanting a becoming dress to give her a civilized appearance. The rest of the squaws were of low stature, coarse featured and uncomely. The old chief visited our camp in the evening and after holding a talk respecting our road through his country, etc., ordered his people to leave, and in a few moments not an Indian was to be seen. The squaws carried off the newly acquired goods, animals, etc.; the men mounted the horses and rode at full speed. It surprised us to see the spirit and animation which our jaded animals assumed in the hands of their new masters. They rode without a bridle, and are the most expert horsemen we have yet seen, excelling the New Mexicans. While exchanging for a mule which had a squaw in charge, she saw me display to another a lot of red beads ; after the bargain for the mule was closed, she gave me to understand that she wanted the beads she had seen as a reward for her interest in the trade, and would have all the beads or keep the mule. Of course I was obliged to yield, for procuring fresh animals was of utmost importance to us. They are very avaricious and have little regard for their word of honor when self-interest is at stake. They care nothing about money and prefer a new brass button to a half eagle. They had a little money among them, but did not know the value of it. We had one display, of “etiquette” worthy of imitation by a more civilized race of people. While the old chief was holding his talk with our captain, the Mexican guide ventured to say something on the subject, when the chief ordered him to “hold his tongue,” saying that it was enough for one man to speak at once. Aware of their reported treachery, and not putting much confidence in their protestations of friendship, we doubled our night guard, but were not molested. In the morning we found a few small articles had been stolen while trading with them; but upon the whole, our falling in with this band of savages was the most fortunate circumstance that happened to us on the whole route. Distance, 24 miles; 1224 miles out from Fort Smith.
Sunday, July 8.
Started at eight o’clock and moved off in fine spirits, well satisfied with the results of yesterday’s “fair.” I suppose more than 200 Indians had visited our camp during the afternoon. Our course west, over a very rough, broken country; then ascended and crossed a high mountain, which is the dividing ridge that separates the waters which empty into the Atlantic and Pacific oceans. We then descended a long ravine and encamped about 1 o’clock on a small, oure stream, and had pretty good grass for our animals. The surrounding hills are covered with trees of a stunted growth, shrubbery and gramma. The main stalk of the beargrass grows to a great heighth. This the Indians use for lance handles, which are from 10 to 15 feet long, and very firm when dry. Mr. Hart, an old California gold miner, thinks that the earth indicates an abundance of gold in this region. We found specimens of copper and iron ore. Distance, 15 miles 1239.
Monday, July 9.
Our guide led us in a winding course through ravines and across difficult hills, until we found ourselves traveling down the bed of an arroyo, which gradually widened and deepened, until we suddenly emerged and bivonaced upon the bank of the Rio Gila (Hela). In the bed of the arroyo we saw a great variety of cactus or prickly pear, loaded with ripe fruit; also several varieties of trees, walnut, elder, oak, etc. There is little doubt but the country we pass over to-day will at no distant period prove an immense gold placere. The hills are composed of a sand rock and red clay, intermixed with sand and small flint stones; in the ravines we saw the slate rock cropping out, made bare by the action of the water, and large quantities of quartz, which is said always to accompany a deposit of gold. We did not “prospect” any, for the want of water, and very likely we should not have known how to examine for the precious metal. Indeed, we think but little about gold or gold digging, it being a subject rarely introduced for “camp gossip.” Traveling has become as natural as doing “day labor;” it is indeed very laborious, and when we reach camp we are very much fatigued and think of nothing else than rest. Our stock of provisions is disappearing rapidly, and unless we are fortunate enough to obtain a supply of the Pjona [Pima] Indians, we shall certainly suffer, and we are beginning to think this a much more important consideration than the gold of California. The banks of the Gila, like all other rivers we have seen since leaving the Ohio, are fringed with cottonwood. At this point it is about 12 yards wide and 18 inches deep, and runs upon the first rock and gravel bed we have seen since leaving Pennsylvania. It is a swift flowing stream of clear, oure water, and abounds in trout, some of which are of a very large size. As soon as we encamp a number of our men prepared themselves with rod and line and went to “try their luck” amongst these strangers of the finny tribe. They soon returned and reported favorably, having caught enough to supply “all hands” for both supper and breakfast. Hill Dixon caught one that measured four inches between the eyes and weighed about 30 pounds. The country is very mountainous on both sides of the river, and but little flat land along its banks, which at this point is covered with a luxuriant growth of weeds, indicating a good soil. This is the encamping ground of the Mexicans who come out to trade with the Apaches. We can find no grass and we fear our animals will suffer while traveling down the river. Here our guide, Joseph Jarvis, leaves us to return home, having fulfilled his contract faithfully, and we are left to “go it blind” the rest of the way. Distance, 23 miles 1260.
Tuesday, July 10.
After giving Jarvis a letter of recommendation signed by each member of the company, and furnishing him with enough crackers and bacon to last him to the Rio Grande, he started home and we continued our journey. Crossed the river and continued down the bank, through underbrush and weeds, for several miles, then re-crossed and ascended a high, difficult bluff and kept upon the high lands, crossed several deep arroyos and again encamped on the river bottom, opposite Steeple Rock. The highlands or plains are entirely destitute of timber, but are covered with a sparse growth of gramma. If this first day’s march on the Gila be a “sample” of “what is to come,” we will “see sights” before we reach the “other end.” Distance, 30 miles 1290.
Wednesday, July 11.
The trail laid along the north side of the river and was a comparatively good road. This flat is from one to two miles wide and probably 20 miles long. Passed through some patches of good grass, but the greatest portion of the valley is a barren waste. Judging from the great number of ruins we discovered, this place was, at some remote period, densely populated. We saw the stone foundations of walls, that once enclosed large towns. Some of the houses, which were no doubt built of adobes, had stone foundations. Save these marks, and the immense quantities of broken pottery strewed around, there is no trace or vestage of the country ever having been inhabited. The buildings are all level with the earth. I believe there is no satisfactory accounts of these once extensive settlements on historical record. Probably these were colonies established in the early days of Mexico, and when in successful operation, were overpowered and driven off, or totally destroyed by savage Indians, and their improvements demolished and laid waste. It may be that gold mining was extensively carried on in this region of country, and the ore packed to the City of Mexico, to decorate the halls of the Montezumas, their churches, etc. It certainly would be interesting to know what ever induced people to settle in this isolated portion of the world in a place where the earth would not produce enough to supply a small population. At present there are only a few deserted Indian wigwams along the river bank. About 3 o’clock we turned in to water, and found 40 men of the Knickerbocker company encamped. They had attempted to explore a more southern route, but after suffering severely for want of water, losing one man and a number of stock, they concluded to shape their course due north for Gila, which they reached a few miles below our last night’s camp. Good grass. Distance, 28 miles 1318.
Thursday, July 12.
Our course is down the valley of the river, occasionally leaving it for a short time to cross the bluffs that extend into the bank. We crossed the river three times to-day and encamped on the south side. Passed a company of 25 New Yorkers and Virginians encamped on the bank of the stream. Passed a great number of ruins described yesterday. The extensive ranges of mountains on both sides of the river present a variety of shapes and picturesque appearance. We are encamped at the point where we leave the river to cross the rough and trying part of the road called the “Devil’s Turnpike.” Here the mountains close in upon the river, which has cut a channel through solid rock, in places more than 100 feet high. Through these canons its restless waters rush, making it impossible to continue our course down the river. We drove our stock to the top of the mountain to feed upon gramma, where those of us not on guard were prevented from sleeping and completely drenched by a very violent thunder storm, which lasted several hours. Distance, 20 miles 1338.
CHAPTER XI
Friday, July 13.
We started at 9 o’clock this morning, and immediately ascended a high mountain. Our course was over mountains and through ravines, down the rocky beds Of which we frequently traveled for miles. Our mules scrambled along the sides of mountains and precipices where I thought it would be impossible for man or beast to venture; but they are a sure-footed animal and we did not meet with a single accident during the day. The trail for the whole distance is covered with a sharp, angular-shaped black rock and small sharp stones, which severely lacerated the hoofs of our animals, and they could have been tracked for miles by the blood upon the stones; but we all arrived safely in camp without losing a single mule. Gen. Kearney lost 15 in the same march 3 years ago. In some of those deep, dark chasms, through which we passed, it would (with the aid of a little fire and brimstone) require but a slight stretch of the imagination, to think one’s self on the brink of the infernal regions. We descended into a deep, gloomy ravine, the bed of which was but a few feet in width, and the sides towered perpendicularly to the clouds. Night came on while we were thus imbedded in the “bowels of the earth,” but we finally groped our way to the river, whither it led us, crossed over and encamped, having traveled 10 hours without intermission and made but 16 miles. The “Devil’s Turnpike” is a very appropriate name for to-day’s route; it is not “graded” but well “set” with sharp rocks. This has indeed been a difficult and trying day’s march, on both man and beast. We walked all day and were almost worn out on reaching camp. We stopped on a sand bar, without a spear of grass for our weary and hungry stock, and their incessant cries during the night for something to eat were truly painful. We did not see a single living animal today; indeed, we have met but little game since leaving the buffalo region, on the plains of the Canadian river. Since leaving the Rio Grande we have seen an occasional antelope, hare, or a flock of quails. Of the reptile kind we have seen rattle snakes, horned toads, lizards, tarantulas, and scorpions in abundance. Today we had some extensive views of this wild region of country. Nothing could be seen as far as the eye could reach but mountain upon mountain, apparently barren, which gives this desolate waste a most forbidding appearance. From the amount of drift and other indications, the Gila rises to a great height during the wet season. Distance, 16 miles ; 1354 miles out from Fort Smith.
Saturday, July 14.
This morning we find ourselves encamped on a small sand bar, with impassable canons above and below us, and enclosed on either side by tremendous mountains. We have been following the trail of a company a few days in advance of us, which has brought us into the difficulty. The suffering condition of our animals compels us to make our way out of this “trap” as soon as possible. Several of us started in search of a trail leading out, but found none. Our only resort was to ascend a high and rugged mountain, the summit of which we at last gained, after incredible toil on the part of our mules and selves. We continued along the dividing rise in a southern course, in hopes of getting out of this “turnpike” region in a short time. Our tender-footed beasts hobbled along as best they could, but all the mules that had been shod at Santa Fe lost their shoes during yesterday and to-day’s march. After traveling several miles in this way we intersected a good trail, which led us directly to the river. We suppose this to be General Kearney’s old route, he having left the river further to the north. After a long but pretty gradual descent we again reached the ^waters of the Gila and traveled down the stream crossing it nine times, when we emerged upon a flat, which widened out, and is covered with mezquite and other bushes, but not a spear of grass.
Here again we found a great number of those ruins, formerly spoken of, large quantities of broken pottery, etc. It is impossible to judge the shape of the vessels of which these fragments form a part; very likely, however, these buildings were roofed with this material. It resembles the common red crockery now in use in the States, being ornamented and striped in a variety of styles. Not a piece was to be found of a larger size than a man’s hand. We encamped on a small patch of green grass about a mile from the river. It is a fortunate circumstance we found this, it being the first we have met with for several days. The base of Mount Graham is about 10 miles distant, on the south side of the river. The waters of the Gila have been increased by the addition of the Prieto and Don Carlos rivers; the latter stream is strongly impregnated with salt. Saw an abundance of blue quail and a great many turtle doves; the latter bird we have met with in every part of the country since leaving the States. Distance, 20 miles 1374.
Sunday, July 15.
The Virginians lost a mule yesterday, and Capt. Dixon found a good one running loose. The bank of the river is so beset with underbrush and drift that we cannot get a supply of water without extreme difficulty. Remained in camp to-day to rest and graze our animals. Some of our men tried to catch some fish, but met with poor success. I preferred gunning and killed a few quails, doves, etc., saw a great many long-eared hares, but they were very wild. I spent several hours in wandering over the site of these ancient settlements, but could find nothing but the pottery and foundations of buildings, denoting the existence of a once numerous people. The weather for some days has been excessively warm, and the indifferent shade of a mezquite bush is the only protection we have from the scorching rays of the run. We would prefer traveling, if we could do so in justice to our animals.
Monday, July 16.
Trail continues down the valley of the river, which is from one to three miles wide. Passed more ruins, which were in a greater state of preservation than any we had yet seen broken portions of walls and posts are yet standing. We also saw some large stones, hollowed out in the shape of a mortar; these were no doubt used for grinding grain. The valley of this river was once inhabited by thousands perhaps millions of human beings, now wholly extinct. They cultivated the soil, which required irrigation, and some of their ditches can be seen to this day. The sand and dust in our trail is very deep, and so heated by the rays of the sun that an egg could be roasted in a few minutes. The barrels of our guns became so hot that we could scarcely touch them, and our bridle reins almost blistered our hands. We passed along between the base of Mt. Graham and the river. The top of the mountain is immersed in clouds and showers are falling around its summit, while it is perfectly clear in the valley. The water which falls around the mountain flows down the ravines, in which there appears to be some verdure, and at the base there is said to flow a subterranean creek. Encamped on the river bank, had some grass, but the water of the Gila is very warm and blackish. Distance, 30 miles 1404.
Tuesday, July 17.
Meeker and Bornean abandoned their worn-out riding horses yesterday. Our course is down the river, the trail pretty solid. In the afternoon we crossed a rocky point extending into the river and encamped a few miles below, directly opposite or north of Mount Turnbull. This afternoon we intersected a large trail, which we suppose is that traveled by Sonora traders to barter with the Indians. Saw the “frames” of a number of cattle and horses lying along the route. Today we again passed the Knickerbocker company, many of whom are on foot, two or three of them packing one horse, and that probably on its “last legs.” We had a cool breeze today and got along very comfortably. Distance, 30 miles 1434.
Wednesday, July 18.
Kept down the river with a good road until 12 o’clock, when the river canoned and we were “brought to a stand.” We, however, found a small trail leading south, around the western side of Mt. Turnbull, and started on it, but unfortunately, neglected to water our animals and fill our canteens, expecting to strike the river again in a few miles. In this we were disappointed. We continued traveling south, leaving the river behind us, and ascending the mountain upon mountain. Found no water and it was too late to return to the river. On looking back we could see the Gila flowing off to the S.W., and the Rio San Francisco emptying into it directly north of us. The latter appears to be a considerable stream, running south through a small valley. We still keep our course up the mountains in hopes of finding water, but fearful of having to camp without it. The mules belonging to the Virginia and Heddenburg mess began to fail ; they halted in a ravine and declared they would go no farther, but return in the morning to the river. The Texians, Capt. Dixon’s mess 74 and ourselves went on, toiling up the ravine, and finally came to what was apparently the end of the mountain we were upon. Two or three persons descended in search of water, and after the delay of an hour reported an abundance of water in the ravine. This was joyful news to us; we had had none since morning, although none of us were suffering for want of it. We wound around the end of the mountain and descended several hundred feet into a deep, dark, rocky defile, in the bottom of which ran a small but oure rill of water. Here we encamped and turned our animals up the side of the mountain to graze upon the scattered bunches of gramma that grows amongst the rocks. We here found several deserted Indian huts, where they had encamped to prepare their mezcal, which grows in great abundance amongst these mountains. They had a furnace of stone built in which to bake it. The mezcal plant resembles the pine apple somewhat in appearance, but is of more luxuriant growth, and send up a long, straight stalk, from 10 to 20 feet high, bearing on the top a number of handsome yellow flowers. We sent word of our good fortune to those we left behind, but they failed to come up; think that their animals will require several days rest before they will be able to proceed. A mutual division of our small company must take place, which is much to be regretted, after having traveled so far together. Our provisions are fast disappearing, which obliges us to push forward while they have a pretty good supply. We have little breadstuff left and but 4 or 5 days’ rations of bacon in this desolate region. There are some sycamore trees in this ravine, resembling the same species in the States excepting the leaves. Distance, 30 miles 1464.
CHAPTER XII
Thursday, July 19.
The first step this morning was to ascend the high and almost perpendicular mountainside, out of this ravine, which in all probability the rays of the sun never reach. We almost despaired of accomplishing the task, but after a hard struggle the mules reached the summit. One poor animal, with a heavy pack, lost its equilibrium, fell down a precipice and rolled over several times, pack and all, but soon recovered his footing, and again commenced the toilsome ascent. We then continued ascending and descending one rugged steep after another. As far as the eye could reach nothing presented itself to our vision but high mountains and corresponding ravines. Our trail is very indistinct, branching in different directions, which satisfies us that we are following an Indian path, perhaps never trod by the foot of white men before. Occasionally we could catch a glimpse of the Gila on its course, far off to the north. We all walked, leading our animals. It has been a most toilsome day’s march on man and beast. We crossed several small streams of water, in the beds of arroyos, which run a short distance and then sink in the sand. The prickly pear, loaded with fruit, has been very abundant for some days. When ripe it is a deep red color, full of seeds and of a pleasant taste; but beware of the small, sharp prickles with which the fruit and stalk is armed. About 12 o’clock we reached the top of the mountain and passed between two high and rocky pillars, which towered upon our right and left. Here our further progress appeared at an end. The path led down into a deep chasm, from which there did not seem a single point of egress. Several of us started in search of a passage in the direction we wished to travel, others ascended the pillars to “view the landscape o’er.” When out of each other’s sight they commenced “hallooing,” and were immediately answered by some Indians in the ravine in front of us, who soon made their appearance. After signs of friendship had passed between us, we advanced to hold a talk with them. They were entirely naked, both male and female. We gave them to understand that we wanted to reach the Gila river, at the mouth of the Rio San Pedro. They directed us upon a trail running down the ravine to the S.W.; this we descended with little difficulty for a few miles and encamped with water and grass. The day has been cloudy and pleasant. Distance, 16 miles 1480.
Friday, July 20.
Continued down the ravine without much interruption until we reached the Gila. Here the river comes foaming and tumbling out of one canon and immediately enters another. We crossed and commenced climbing the mountain on the north side. This is the point where Gen. Kearney reached the river, after four days of toilsome travel over the mountains, on the north side of the river, to avoid the canons above. During the same time’, they lost a great number of animals. We have accomplished the same object on the south side in two days, and by traveling less than half the distance. He had the celebrated Kit Carson for guide; we had none. The inexperienced will sometimes fall into good luck. Again passed the Knickerbocker company, many of whom are destitute of provisions, and were “nooning it” upon the fruit of the prickly pear a flimsy substitute for food. To-day we met with the first of a new and singular kind of cactus. It is a tree without limb or leaf, but with branches similar to the main stalk, putting out about half-way up the trunk; it is evergreen, fluted and armed with prickles, or barbs. There are great numbers of these peculiar yet beautiful trees growing out on the south side of the mountain. We are now in the Pinon Lanos range. They are high, rocky, barren and very difficult to pass, of which we had a specimen this afternoon. We climbed three successive mountains, and then descended all at once, for a distance of two miles, over rocks, sharp stones, cactus, etc., and encamped in an arroyo near the river, down which ran a small, clear stream of oure, cold water, which was a gratifying treat to us, after a hard day’s march beneath a burning sun. There is no grass in the neighborhood for our suffering animals. There is cottonwood, ash and willow growing in the ravine. We found some small sour grapes, and saw a humming bird, a wren, and a ground squirrel. Distance, 20 miles; 1500 miles out from Fort Smith.
Saturday, July 21.
After crossing the point of a most precipitous mountain we again reached the Gila, and then commenced the winding descent of the river, for through these apparently impassable canons is now our only course. We crossed the stream 30 times in the course of to-day’s march, sometimes swimming our mules, wetting our packs, etc. The bed of the river in places is very rocky, and in others composed of quicksand, which makes it unpleasant to ford. In places the current was so rapid as to wash the legs of the animals from under them and carry them bodily down stream; but they invariably recovered and reached the shore in safety. In these tremendous canons nature displayed her powers in the wildest form. The stupendous rocks, reared perpendicularly above each other for hundreds of feet, present a grand but gloomy spectacle to the beholder. Nothing like vegetation or animal life cheer the solitude of the scene, except the lonely cactus trees, which has the appearance of so many sentinels, stationed by the infernal powers to guard these dark passes. We measured one of the trees that had been blown down and found it to be 39 feet in length and 25 inches in diameter. Some of them have five or six arms, generally two or three, sometimes one and frequently none. These single stalks raising out of the earth to the height of 40 feet, and two feet in thickness, are an odd looking “vegetable.” We found a species of nut to-day, resembling the almond in taste, which sickened some of the boys who ate of them. We met five naked Apaches, who were about taking dinner when we came upon them. The “prepared dish” lay in the sand, around which they were seated. It consisted of several yards of the entrails of a dead horse, containing all the filth, roasted in the ashes. On this dainty morsel they feasted, pulling it off in pieces with their claws, and ate with apparently good relish, until they were as “full as ticks,” the “seasoning” running down their faces all the while. They kindly offered to share their meal with us, but having yet a small supply of more palatable food, we thanked them. No doubt this would have been an “affecting” sight to persons of weak stomachs, but we have become indifferent to “sights,” and do not know how soon we may be compelled to imitate their example. We traveled further than we intended today, in hopes of finding more grass, but were obliged to encamp at last without a blade in view. This is certainly hard food for our mules, but we cannot remedy it. We were visited this evening by some “poverty-struck” Apaches, mostly squaws and children; they wore no clothing but the breechcloth, which is made of buckskin. We ordered them to leave at dark. Distance, 16 miles 1516.
Sunday, July 22.
This morning the Indians again visited us. They had nothing to trade but some jerked horse meat, which we did not relish if we were out of meat. They were very curious, handling and examining everything within their reach. We gave them some trifling presents, with which they were much pleased. Several of the young squaws were passably good looking, having regular features and expressive countenance, etc. One of them had a paint stone, resembling red chalk, suspended from her neck, with which they striped themselves in our presence, using their fingers for a brush and spittle to mix with. After descending the river through a number of canons, and crossing 6 times, we emerged from the mountains upon a barren, sandy flat, opposite where the Rio San Pedro empties into the Gila on the south side. We are much rejoiced to find ourselves again in an open country, after several days of incessant toil to ourselves and animals. Passed Saddle-Back Peak, 76 which is situated on the south side of the river, a short distance above the mouth of the San Pedro. This mountain has been appropriately named, for the summit very much resembles the seat of a saddle. Here the Gila, which has for some time been running almost south, changes its course to N. of W. We found a few bunches of coarse grass about 1 o’clock, when we stopped and rested until 5, then packed up again and traveled until dark; saw numerous flocks of quails and doves. This flat is covered with mezquite, timber, weeds, and but little grass. The weather is very hot, no air stirring. Distance, 12 miles 1528.
Monday, July 23.
There being a little grass here, we concluded to rest for the day, and graze our stock, for from all accounts we will find but little feed on the balance of our route. The day was excessively hot, and the small mezcal trees afford us but poor shelter from the burning sun. The Virginians came up and passed by us to-day; the New York company also passed by us.
Tuesday, July 24.
Our camp had been pitched in a thicket of mezquite and weeds, and making an early start this morning, we had traveled several miles before we discovered that one of our pack mules were missing. After packing, it no doubt wandered into the thicket and was left behind. Three of us started back, but there were several Indians ahead of us, who no doubt found the prize and drove it off into the mountains. We engaged Pinon Lanos Indians to go in search of it, offering them a large reward, and amongst other things a gun with powder and ball, upon which they exclaimed “mui bueno” (very good) and set off at full speed, promising to bring it into camp this evening. But neither the Indians or the mule came, and we have given up all hopes of ever seeing it again. It was a good mule, belonging to the company, and carried the most valuable pack. We estimate the loss at about $400. All the most necessary and valuable clothing belonging to Armstrong, Howard, Musser, and myself were upon it, including my gold watch and chain, and other articles of value. My individual loss is not less than $175. The pack also contained some business letters of introduction, and many small but useful articles which we had packed into India rubber bags for preservation. Altogether, we considered it a serious loss in our private situation. It is the first stroke of ill luck we have yet met with; I hope it is not the commencement of a series. We had not traveled far to-day before the river again canoned and we were obliged to ford it 21 times during the march. We encamped on the south side and turned our animals upon the hills to feed on the gramma, which is very thin but better than none. We crossed Mineral creek this afternoon. It is a small stream, emptying into the Gila on the north side. This stream is said to abound in gold and other minerals; but we did not stop to explore. Distance, 22 miles 1550.
Wednesday, July 25.
No tidings of the lost mule and packs, and we have given up all hopes of recovering either. No doubt my watch already bedecks the tawny bosom of some squaw, of no more value to her than a brass button. After passing through a number of canons and crossing the river 10 times, we once more reached where the river “spreads out its valley.” The dust on the trail is almost knee deep, which, with the intense heat, makes traveling difficult and oppressive. To-day we met two Pigmo [Pima] Indians. They said they were out after horses and mules to exchange with the American emigrants. Encamped on the river bank. Distance, 25 miles 1575.
Thursday, July 26.
Dust and underbrush annoyed us very much in our course down the valley. This afternoon we entered Gen. Cook’s wagon road, which comes up from the east. This evening a pack mule company by Capt. Day came up by that route. They gave a very favorable account of the route, which must be preferable to the one we have traveled. They had passed through a number of Mexican villages, and had an abundance of feed for their animals. Capt. Day has his wife with him. She is a Spanish woman, and the first female emigrant we have seen on the route. She was mounted upon a mule, riding in the train covered with dust, holding an umbrella over her head and a child in her arms. Distance, 25 miles 1609.
CHAPTER XIII
Friday, July 27.
Early this morning we were visited by a number of Pigmo (pemo) Indians of both sexes. We find we are encamped within a league of their principal village. We have found a small patch of coarse grass, that has been repeatedly grazed off by the animals of companies in advance of us, but it is much better than we have met with for many days. The condition of our stock, and the prospects of obtaining a supply of provisions, requires us to remain here a day at least. We have been on short allowance for some time. We have had no bacon for two weeks; the last of it had melted away, until there were little left but the skins. Our supply of coffee is beginning to fail. We are obliged to drink it very weak, without sugar, which with a scanty allowance of Mexican flour has constituted our entire fare for sometime. The flour was ground by hand power, and contains all the bran. Could our empty provision sacks be replenished with a sack of flour, and a few pounds of bacon, we would feel as happy and contented as lords, nor envy the epicure enjoying his choicest luxuries. This is a pretty fix to be in, wanting the bare necessaries of life; but we have no reason to complain, Providence has favored us thus far, and we are once more where we can obtain something to sustain life. Could mules travel the Gila river route and carry heavy burdens, we might have reproached ourselves for leaving Santa Fe with so small a supply, but that is impossible; we have seen no emigrants on the route who have fared better than ourselves, and many far worse. We were not long in commencing to barter with the Pigmos, who showed a very friendly disposition. They brought us small quantities of wheat flour, very coarse, some green corn, and watermelons, for which we gave them shirts and other articles in exchange. We could not procure meat of them, it being the article we most needed. Being an agricultural people, they require what few animals they have for that ourpose. We had hoped to exchange some of our weary mules for fresh stock, but were disappointed, and will have to perform the balance of our journey, with our broken down animals, as best we can. The Pigmos resemble most other Indian tribes we have met, but are not so finely formed, athletic, and dignified as the Apaches, of whom they are in great dread. I was amused upon offering them a pair of buckskin leggins, which I had purchased of the Apaches; they instantly recognized them by the ornaments, and appeared actually afraid to touch them, exclaiming-, “Apache’s, Apache’s malo! mui malo!” They are disposed to be peaceful. The more savage tribes steal their stock, which is very unfortunate for them. They have some animals left by Gen. Kearney, Major Graham and Cook. The dress of these Indians is very simple, and many wear but the simple breech cloth. A shirt is the height of their ambition in the dress line. The climate is so mild the year round, that much clothing would be superfluous. At present the heat is very oppressive; our thermometers stand at a 126 above zero in the shade. These Indians appear to be perfectly honest. The old Chief or Governor visited us to-day, and took dinner with us. He wished to know how his subjects behaved towards us, and said that if we caught them pilfering or misbehaving, we should inform him, and that he would punish them accordingly. Thus do this singular and simple people live in peace and contentment, enjoying the fruits of their labors, in this isolated portion of the world, and if ignorant of many blessing attending more enlightened nations, are alike unacquainted with their vices.
Saturday, July 28.
We had traveled but a short time before we entered the village. It is scattered over a large portion of the river flat, which is about fifteen miles wide at this point. The village is situated on the south side of the river. There are a number of springs or marshes, by which they irrigate the land. We saw no running streams. Their wigwams are composed of a kind of wicker work, thatched with straw or reeds, and the whole covered with earth. They have each a summer house, which consists of four posts set in the ground, cross pieces, and the top covered with straw. These form very comfortable shades, and it was a rich luxury to sit under one of them and eat watermelons, boiled wheat, beans, &c. These people speak the Spanish language pretty well, which I suppose they have learned from their intercourse with the trade between Mexico and California, this being an important point upon the route. They enter their bake-oven-shaped huts through the only aperture, at one end, and in them they live, eat, drink and sleep, “up to their eyes” in sand, the earth being of a sandy nature, and very barren appearance. They grow cotton, and manufacture it into coarse cloth, their weaving apperratus being very simple. They use the wooden Mexican plough, and fence with poles and brush, and their little patches display more taste than those in New Mexico. We saw some of the men at work, but the majority of the laborers were women. They do all the drudge work, carrying immense burdens upon their heads, grind wheat, corn, &c. Saw but few fire arms among them; they have all bows and arrows, but seldom carry any about them. This afternoon we passed through a part of the Marakopa [Maricopa] tribe. We saw many of them engaged in playing cards. These tribes of Indians have been represented as having all the virtues and none of the vices of the whites. This was either exaggeration, or they, have degenerated greatly within a few years. We have found them to lie, cheat and steal. They handle cards with a great deal of dexterity, know the value of money, and used it in betting at their games. After a long search for pasture, we saw a deserted cornfield, in which we encamped. Our animals relished the fodder very much. We found a small run of water near, which was very blackish. The river is about two miles to the north. At this point the road crosses the mountains, a Jornada of about fifty miles, cutting off a large bend in the river. Distance, 30 miles 1630.
Sunday, July 29.
Concluded to keep Sunday, for from all accounts we will not find another “cornfield” soon. Although we have passed through all the villages, we were visited to-day by a number of Marakopas, bringing corn, panol [pinole?], melons, &c., for exchange. We failed of procuring meat from these Indians, of which we are very much in need, in our present condition. We exchanged several broken down horses for others very little better, giving more “to boot” than both were worth. We were well enough supplied with corn and melons, and ten of us consumed several dozen to-day. The old proverb “either a feast or a famine,” applies to us. A number of Indians have laid about our camp all day, watching every opportunity to pilfer. They ate the rinds of the melons which we threw away.
Monday, July 30.
Left the cornfield, and kept the trail, following the course of the river. We feared our mules were inadequate to the task of crossing the Jornada, although it is a great “cut off.” A large portion of the valley is here covered with a saline deposit. The impression of horses’ hoofs are visible in every direction, being filled with salt, which it is said the Indians collect for use. The heavy growth of weeds in different places denotes a rich soil. Mezquite timber is becoming more abundant. This tree resembles the locusts in the States. It bears a bean, which is sweet and very good feed for animals. The Indians are fond of them. After a long search, we found a “bare spot” large enough to encamp upon, on a small island in the river. We turned our mules out to browse upon willows and weeds.
This is pretty hard fare after a fatiguing day’s march, but we can do no better. The day has been very hot, and the water of the Gila so warm, that we could not drink it, did not necessity require it, it being also very brackish. Distance, 25 miles 1655.
Tuesday, July 31.
Crossed the river, but swamps interrupting our course on the north side, we were obliged to recross. Excepting the course of the river, which is still marked by a growth of cotton wood, willow, underbrush, mezquite, and rank weeds, the general appearance of the country is most sterile and forbidding. The sunburned summits of the mountains are entirely destitute of vegetation. The heat very oppressive, and being some distance from the river, we are almost choked from thirst. In addition to our canteens, each person procured a gourd from the Pigmo Indians, but with all our vessels we were unable to carry a day’s supply of water. This afternoon we had every sign of a fine shower, which would have been very refreshing, but it ended in a gust of wind. The sand flew in all directions, blinding, and almost suffocating us for a time. It must almost have equalled the “monsoons” on the deserts of Africa. Not a drop of rain fell. The country is in a “parched up” condition, and from every appearance, no rain has fallen for several months. From “signs,” driftwood, &c., we can see that the Gila rises to a great height during the rainy season. Passed the Salt and San Francisco rivers, which unite and flow into the Gila on the north side. 78 The Rio Francisco is a considerable stream. At a distance in advance of us the appearance of the country the ever-changing scenery, is truly beautiful. The valley of the river appears covered with herbage, interspersed with groves of wood, and surrounded with low chains of picturesque mountains. But the eye deceives the senses; all changes as we travel along, plodding through the sand almost knee deep, annoyed by the numerous prickly shrubs, the thorns of the mezquite tree scratching us and tearing our clothes, whenever we come in contact with it. Our hands “have to suffer” when we gather the beans for our mules. They are very fond of them, being a pretty good substitute for grass. They contain a great deal of saccharine matter, and are no doubt very nutritious. Encamped in a mezquite thicket and fed upon beans. We are some distance from the river, and have great difficulty in going to it from our camp, through the weeds, underbrush, drift, &c. Thermometer stood at 114 in the shade. After clearing away some of the brush and thorns, we managed to “turn in” upon “level ground.” We had scarcely rolled our weary bodies up in our blanket, when our ears were saluted by the music of an old acquaintance. The serenade, though familiar, sounded harsh, and in a moment we were all upon our feet, determined to silence the “minstrel.” We lighted a fagot and after considerable search succeeded in dislodging and beheading the bird. He was the largest rattle-snake I ever saw, being four feet in length and numbering upwards of twenty rattles. We had laid down within a few feet of him. It is said that they usually go in pairs, but we were not to be cheated out of our “roosts” by such notions, and again turned-in and were soon lost in “refreshing sleep,” “nature’s sweet restorer,” and the goddess of dreams was not long in transporting our imaginations to “other scenes and to other times.” To no persons do the “hours of rest” pass more quickly by than they appear to the way-worn traveler. Too soon are we aroused by the unwelcome voice of the captain, calling upon “all hands” to get up, prepare breakfast, pack, and be off by sunrise. So we go. Distance, 25 miles 1680.
Wednesday, Aug. 1.
The river inclines strongly to the south. We crossed several points of mountains which were covered with sharp, black rocks, which made the footing insecure for our animals and the traveling difficult. Found a “litter” upon which the company in advance of us had carried a man almost from the source of the Gila a distance of several hundred miles. He had been badly wounded by the accidental discharge of a gun. Passed a river to-day which emptied into the Gila on the north side we do not know the name of it. Encamped in a mezquite grove and fed upon beans. We scarcely see a blade of grass in a day’s march. The depth of the sand and intense heat made this a hard day’s march. Shot a few quails for supper. Camp a mile from water. Distance, 20 miles 1700.
Thursday, Aug. 2.
River bears due south. Sand very deep. Encamped this evening where the Gila takes a west- ern course. Here we again intersected Gen. Cook’s wagon route, which crosses the Jornada before mentioned. It is but forty-eight miles from this point to the Pigmo village, while we have traveled one hundred by following the course of the river. The road through the cut-off is said to be very good and can be crossed in twelve hours. There are six men here that started in at six last evening and were here at twelve to-day, resting half the night; while we have been four days making the same distance toward the end of our journey. Our company picked up a small stray mule this evening. We were obliged as usual to gather beans for our mules. Distance, 25 miles 1725.
CHAPTER XIV
Friday, August 3.
The road pretty good, and we travel with more ease and speed than in the narrow Indian path. We are on the south side of the river, which now runs north of west. Crossed the point of a mountain, which projects into the river; on the west side there is a mound, composed of large black rocks, upon which there are engraved a great many rude characters and Hieroglyphics. From all appearances other hands than those of the present inhabitants of this region have traced them there, and centuries have elapsed since the work was done. Did not reach the river until after dark. By the light of the moon we succeeded in finding a few mezquite trees at the base of a mountain, where we encamped. No sooner had we turned our mules loose, than they commenced “nickering” and wandering about from tree to tree, which satisfied us that there were no beans about, no grass, nor browse, and we heard them wandering off in search of food. The weeds were so high, and dense, that we could not see them. Something was said about being left on foot in the morning, to make the balance of our way as best we could; little attention was paid to it, however, and we all “turned in.” The inclination to rest and repose after a long and fatiguing day’s journey, entirely overcomes the necessity of guarding against difficulty in future. Being obliged to reach water, made this a longer march than we should have made in justice to ourselves and animals. Although we are yet in the Apache Indian range, and are approaching near the Yumas, we have given up “keeping guard” around camp. The labor of packing and unpacking, several times a day, all the while exposed to a burning sun, walking more than half the time, over mountains and through deep sand, drinking the hot brackish water of the Gila, and living upon our light and limited diet, all combine to reduce and debilitate us in mind as well as body. We have become entirely indifferent to danger. The object of our journey seldom enters our mind, and when the gold of California is spoken of, it is only in connection with “If we were only where people lived, and we could get something to eat and drink, the de’il might have all the gold” “I would give all my interest in the diggings for a month’s supply of good provisions” “I have made up my mind long ago, that we are upon a wild goose chase” “If the Sierra Nevada mountains were made of gold, they cannot repay us for what we have endured on this journey,” &c., &c. Travelling has become as natural as the labor of the mechanic, and the time on Saturday afternoon when he can “knock off work,” is not met with more pleasure, by the young apprentice, than we hail the camping place at the end of each day’s journey. I have often read of, but never believed, until I learned by experience, the changes that are produced upon the nature and temper of men, under these circumstances. A person would suppose, that men so far from the borders of civilization, would usually depend upon each other for mutual aid, comfort and protection, and find pleasure in doing so; but, in nine cases out of ten, it is the reverse. Companies of emigrants, pledged to stand by each other, have been divided and sub-divided by most trifling circumstances, which produced contention among them. Messes from the same neighborhood at home, have been separated; and I have even seen brothers quarrel, divide their “plunder,” and each pursue his own course. Men that were formerly of the most mild, obliging dispositions, have become crabbed, fretful, and overbearing. And never have I been in a more perfect school of profanity; preachers and members of churches are not exempt from this all prevailing spirit, but appeared to become the most hardened. The decided change in life, the trials, hardships, and difficulties of an overland journey, but I believe nothing has so powerful an effect, as the scanty allowance of food. I am happy to say that our own mess have travelled together, and have reason to believe that none of the dissentions so common on the route will enter our little band. Yet we all saw, fell, and acknowledged, that we were not the persons we “used to was,” in spirit, temper, and body, and have concluded that it will take considerable good “feeding,” and intercourse with civilization, to restore us to our former condition. Distance, 30 miles 1755.
Saturday, August 4.
When we awoke this morning, not a horse or mule was to be seen. After scouring the country until ten o’clock, we found them, some six or eight miles from camp, still wandering about, having found no food. This afternoon we met several hundred Indians, on their way up the river men, Squaws, and children. They appeared to be removing their goods and chattels, for everything belonging to an Indian camp, they had upon their backs. What tribe they belong to, or are, we could not learn. They are a more rude and abject looking race, than any we have yet seen. The only clothing of male and female was the simple breech-cloth, and many were entirely naked. Their “fig-leaf” was the shreds of the inner bark of the tree, formed into a kind of fringe. The Squaws were carrying very heavy loads upon their backs, or rather on their foreheads, by means of a strap to which the weight is suspended, resting on their back. When trudging along, in the necessary stooped form, they very much resemble packed Sonorian Burros, (jackasses). The men were only encumbered with their bows, and a few of them were on horseback. I gave a squaw a silk handkerchief for a gourd, but they had nothing in the way of provisions that we could procure. While on the Rio Grande, I had covered my India rubber canteen with flannel, which I have since found to be a valuable improvement. By wetting the flannel, when I fill it, and hang it upon my saddle, the water becomes tolerable cool. Green, Musser, Armstrong and myself, had remained behind to trade with the Indians; Armstrong traded horses. When we started on, we could not find the company, who we supposed had turned off the road to encamp. After a fruitless search of two or three hours, we concluded to tie up for the night. We had eaten nothing since morning, and a scanty breakfast that was. Our animals fared better than ourselves, having abundance of beans. We spread our blankets on the sand, and “turned in,” wishing for a portion of humble camp fare. Distance 15 miles 1770.
Sunday, August 5.
Rose early, saddled up, and started; followed the road for several miles, when we concluded to wait until some company came up, from whom we could get something to eat, not knowing whether our train was in advance or behind us. If behind, we fear they will wait, thinking that the Indians have detained us. We set about to kill some birds, but did not succeed very well; however, we should not have suffered, as long as beans were so abundant. About 10 o’clock our company came up; our first inquiry was for something to eat, which they fortunately had handy, and started, eating our breakfast on horseback; they had left “signs” in the road when they turned off to encamp, which we had overlooked. The general course of the Gila to-day has been south. We stopped twice to rest and graze our animals, and did not reach camp until 9> o’clock p.m. Crossed the points of several mountains; suffered from thirst; a laborious day’s march; Charles Gathwait lay down in the road, during the evening, said he was sick, and would rather die on the spot than attempt to go farther. I was some distance behind the company when I came up with him, being detained, driving along a jaded horse. I urged Charley to mount his mule and go along, but it was vain to try to persuade him; I found that he had a burning fever on him, gave him a portion of the water left in my canteen, and started on to overtake the company. We were rejoiced when we again reached the river, and immediately encamped. Not finding any feed, we were obliged to tie our suffering animals up to “rock fodder,” for it is better to have even a poor mule than none at all. Gathwait came up during the night. John Franklin, the Polander, also fell behind the company by some means, during the day’s march. He is on foot and alone, we having brought his mule along in the train. He has not come up. Distance, 30 Miles 1800.
CHAPTER XV
Monday, Aug. 6.
Found an abundance of beans for our stock this morning, and concluded to remain for the day. Indeed, ourselves as well as animals require a day for resting and recruiting; but some of the mules took it in their heads to stray, and kept us running all day in search of them. A mule completely jaded and unfit for service, will frequently wander miles from camp during a night. Had bean soup for all hands to-day, which luxury we cannot afford more than once in two weeks. Franklin came up to-day with a company of emigrants; he had lain on the mountain without water, expecting to die. We knew this company would be along to-day, or we should have gone back after him.
Tuesday, Aug. 7.
Started at 12% o’clock this morning, ourposing to stop at daylight to feed and breakfast. While we were packing, another pack company came up, and took possession of our deserted camp. Did not find a blade of grass, or bean, until 4 o’clock p. m., when we came across a little grass, growing upon a sand bar in the river. We stopped and unpacked twice during the day, to rest the weary animals, and intended encamping several times, without feed, but fortunately did not. Distance, 35 miles 1835.
Wednesday, Aug. 8.
Remained in camp until dark this evening, when we packed up and started. Instead of rest to-day, which we so much need, we were kept on the look-out and in search of our animals all the while, which seem determined to leave us at every opportunity, and seek better fare or better masters. Thus far, however, we have been fortunate, having lost but the one, carelessly left behind, several hundred miles back. The channel of the river has become very wide, more than a mile in many places, but at present is at its lowest stage, although it increases gradually as we near its mouth. The growth of cotton wood and other timber, has continued about the same, throughout its course. But nothing can exceed the barren, godforsaken appearance of the country, on the north and south side as far as the eye can reach; one sterile hill rises after another, and mountain after mountain, the desolation of the scene unbroken by a single tree or living object. The heat of the day being so intense, we are now compelled to travel at night; the sand in the road is very deep, which makes travelling very laborious, and it is hot enough to scald the legs of the animals. What would seem strange, although so near the river, we frequently suffer for want of water; the underbrush and weeds prevent our getting to it. For the last two or three weeks, we have seldom encamped within less than a mile of the Gila, and it was often with a great deal of difficulty that we could get at it, besides carrying the water that distance.
Thursday, Aug. 9.
We unpacked about 1 o’clock this morning and rested until daybreak, when we repacked and continued our journey. At 10 o’clock a. m. we halted to prepare breakfast, which occupied an hour’s time. Here we found a bush shelter from the sun, which had been put up by some advance company. The day is excessively hot. After breakfast (if such it can be called) we started. Passing over several low, barren sand hills we emerged upon a sand plain, stretching off to the south and west as far as the eye could reach. Never will I forget the sensations that come over me when I first gazed upon this scene. The crossing of the Colorado, and the desert beyond, had long been the subject of speculation and dread. From the information we had, we had every reason to expect many difficulties and troubles in passing this important point in our journey, but nothing could exceed our anxiety to realize it, for we imagined that once beyond the Jornada, the greatest obstacle in the route would be overcome and we would soon reach the settlements of California. Well, on our right we could see the course of the Gila river, flowing westward, marked by the line of cotton wood on its banks, and the mesquite timber stretching for some distance over the plain. On the south we had the broad, barren, sandy plain, which we know to be the valley of the Rio Colorado, although we could not distinguish the river or its course; and on the west, nothing but a high and apparently desolate waste, bounded the horizon. A hazy atmosphere hung over the scene, on fire, as it were, by the intense heat of the sun, the rays of which are reflected upward by this immense mirror of sand; all combined to form a picture at once grand, gloomy, and foreboding. Our road kept within the range of the mesquite timber, and we had traveled but a few miles when we found some beans. The condition of our animals obliged us to stop and unpack, which we did about 1 o’clock, and two hours were spent in gathering the beans for the mules. Towards evening we found a suitable encamping place in a grove of mezquite; had an abundance of beans and some coarse grass on the border of a lagoon, which connected with the Gila. Here we found a small company encamped who informed us that we were within two miles of the junction of the Gila and Colorado rivers. This was joyful news to us for we could turn our backs upon the Gila now, with as much pleasure as we first beheld, drank and bathed in its cool and limpid waters, which have since gradually changed into a broad, heated, turbid and brackish stream. In the course of our journey along the river we have forded it upwards of one hundred times, and many times the apparently impassable mountains which bound its course seemed to bid defiance to the efforts of our weary animals and selves. The Yumas Indians had stolen several mules from these men, which is an irreparable loss to them. There is a village of them on the north side of the river, directly opposite, but not in sight. We had scarcely reached camp before we were visited by a number of them. We exchanged one or two animals with them, but did not better ourselves much. Distance, 40 miles 1875.
Friday, Aug. 10.
Howard and myself walked down to the upper crossing about a mile below the junction. The majority of the emigrants have crossed at this point, while some have gone down a few miles to Gen. Kearney crossing. We found some fifteen or twenty men here, busily engaged in ferrying over their baggage, and employing Indians to swim over with the mules. They had a wagon body which they had managed to make water-tight, and answered the purpose tolerably well, although it is a slender boat in this “torrent of waters.” The Colorado is here about 350 yards wide, deep enough to float a “man o’ war,” and a very swift current. In crossing the boat is carried down half a mile by the stream, in spite of all the force that can be put upon her. The banks of the river are pretty high, and covered to the edge by a thick growth of cotton wood and underbrush, so that it is impossible to land on either side but at the present places of embark and debarkation. After crossing with a load they are obliged to tow the boat up stream by hand, with a great deal of labor, crawling along the bank over roots, wading or swimming for the distance of a mile, to make sure of the point on this side. There are about fifty Indians standing about, watching for every opportunity to plunder. They have heretofore carried the packs of emigrants over upon small rafts, made by lashing together several bundles of reeds; in this way they supplied themselves with clothing, blankets, tobacco, etc. This interference with their business has somewhat enraged them, and they have already given the emigrants a great deal of trouble, stealing their animals and robbing them of their baggage, provisions, money, etc., and in some instances attacking and killing several. They are the most expert swimmers I have seen and remarkably strong in the water. They frequently carry a bundle of clothes upon their heads to keep it dry with the lariats of three mules in their hands, which they manage with most surprising dexterity in the swift stream. Their usual plan of stealing is while crossing with the baggage on their rafts or swimming over with animals, when they reach the middle of the stream they turn down, and the current in a few minutes carries them far beyond the reach of the loser, when they land and hide their plunder in the thicket, until the emigrants have left the river. Property to the amount of thousands of dollars have been taken from the emigrants in this way. In endeavoring to get into the, bank of the river about a mile below this crossing, in an almost impenetrable thicket, I accidentally discovered one of their pens for hiding animals, etc., but it was empty. The Yumas are a fine looking tribe, with well formed bodies and regular and rather handsome features. They have a great deal of money amongst them, and I saw as high as $30 in gold coin paid for a single blanket. They wear no clothing but the breech cloth except the few articles of dress they have procured of travelers, in which they attire themselves rather awkwardly. What would one of our eastern ladies think if waited upon by one of these “lords of creation,” with but a shirt and a coat to cover his nakedness, yet looking as dignified and vain as an enlightened gentleman who has nothing but a good suit of broadcloth to recommend him to their notice! A foreign dress has a surprising effect upon the character of the Indian, at once arousing his vanity and self-esteem. After seeing “how things were to be done” at the crossing, and engaging the “boat,” we returned to camp. About 10 o’clock we packed up and started down. The boat was still in use and we could do nothing but cross our mules. We hired some Indians to swim over with them, one, two and three at a time, for which we gave them blankets, tobacco, etc. We were cautious, however, to first station a man on each side of the river with our best shooting rifles, some distance below the ferry, to kill the redskins should they make an attempt to steal the animals. Part of our company crossed over to receive the mules, while the rest of us remained to start them in and watch our baggage. A small mule belonging to Franklin became entangled in the lariat and was drowned. The Indian brought it on shore and in a short time every part of it was carried away. The first butcher cut out the entrails and lugged them off, as the most delicate part, and the last took the head of the ill-fated animal upon his shoulders and trudged away, well satisfied with his share. Although we came very near losing three fine mules, this was the only actual bad luck that happened to our company. When night set we had all the animals safely over, but our baggage yet remained behind; we were obliged to divide camp and keep a guard on each side.
Saturday, Aug. 11.
The moon arose about 2 o’clock, when we commenced crossing our baggage, and by 12M, we had all our “traps” safely landed on the western bank of the Colorado, after ten hours of the most fatiguing labor. We immediately packed up and went out a short distance from the river, where we found a pond of water, an abundance of beans and some grass.
Sunday, Aug. 12.
Visited by the Indians. They had nothing to trade except jerked mule meat, which we purchased, glad to get it. The few squaws we saw were remarkably tall, and heavy in proportion. They might well be classed with the race of giants. At this point we expect to leave all water and strike out upon our journey across the desert. Accordingly, we filled all our water vessels gourd, canteens, haversacks, etc. My air pillow, which had done good service in the purpose for which it was made, and was used as a life preserver in swimming the Colorado, now served as a canteen in which we packed four or five gallons of water, and altogether, we must have had about 20 gallons. We also packed a lot of mezquite beans. Everything being in readiness, we started about 4 p. m. We traveled west, across the river flat, until we reached the high ground; then south, crossing a number of high rough ridges, putting it towards the river. The country began to change in appearance, and we soon found ourselves “up to our eyes” in sand; the surface rolling and perfectly bare of vegetation except a small species of brush, which found its way up through the sand, appearing to defy sterility. The drifting sand had closed up the trail in many places. Night closed in upon us and after many fruitless attempts to follow it, we concluded to stop, which we did about 10 o’clock, tying our animals up to the bushes before mentioned. We lay down to rest and sleep, but in vain the hot atmosphere and heated sand bed prevented anything of the kind. The animals sank to their knees in the sand.
CHAPTER XVI
Monday, Aug. 13. The early dawn of morning was the sign to be “up and doing,” for no more time was to be lost, after launching out upon the desert. We were bivouaced upon a ridge of sand, and a continuation of sand hills stretch out to the W. and N. W., bounding the horizon in that direction. On the east is the river flat; the stream is not in sight, but the bottom is covered with mezquite timber, and this can be seen off to the south as far as the vision reaches. After packing up we descended to the flat, where we found some small pools of water. We watered our stock and replenished our canteens. We were no little surprised to find a cornfield here, and shortly afterwards saw the Indians coming out of their huts with baskets, to gather their day’s supply of corn, melons, etc.; they said they belonged to the Marapopa [Maricopa] tribe. Judging from the barren appearance of the soil I could not have believed that it would produce, especially at such a distance from the river. Here we found a trail running along at the foot of the sand hills, which we followed, not knowing whether we were in the right or wrong road. About 9 o’clock we found some beans, and stopped an hour to rest and feed our animals. About 12 o’clock M. we came to the well, where we unpacked, watered our animals, and prepared breakfast, or rather, breakfast, dinner and supper in one meal, for we have eaten nothing since we left the Colorado. A little coarse bread, weak coffee and an allowance of mule beef is highly relished. There is as much water in the well as we can use, but it is scarcely fit to drink, (or would be considered so were we in a more enviable position.) Started at 1 o’clock and again stopped at 2 p. m. to feed upon beans, which we found in great abundance. The road to-day has been good, rather solid, which makes traveling comparatively easy. When we again started we left the wagon road to the right and followed a trail. At 3 o’clock we found another well containing a small quantity of brackish water, and a dead mule; which probably had been left behind, and fallen in in its attempt to get to the water. We drank as much as we wanted and again oursued our journey. Our general course is now nearly due west. Night set in upon us, but we did not stop until 10 o’clock p. m., when the darkness prevented our following the trail. We tied our animals up to the small bushes and laid down to rest. I had become drowsy from loss of sleep and fatigue, [so] that I frequently slept on mule back, and waked up when about to fall off. I could not shake off the feeling, which was truly wretched, although I made every effort to do so.
Tuesday, Aug. 14. The moon arose about 2 o’clock, when we packed up and started, driving at the rate of 4 to 5 miles per hour. Our canteens now contain our entire stock of water. The sand is pretty heavy in places, and in other parts the road is very solid, the earth being of a gravelly nature, and destitute of vegetation throughout. About 7 o’clock this morning we reached the third well. It is situated in a large, deep ravine, but the supply of water was so scanty that we could get but a quart apiece for our animals, and none for ourselves. This place is a perfect Golgotha the bones of thousands of animals lie strewed about in every direction; and a great number of carcasses of horses and mules that have died lately, pollute the atmosphere. Deserted wagons, harness, saddles, etc., add to this destructive and sickening scene. After draining the well to the last drop, we concluded it would be better to go ahead than to wait for it to fill up again. It was with great difficulty that we restrained our suffering animals from rushing into the pit headlong. By their incessant nickering and unwillingness to leave the place, it seemed as though the little we gave them increased their thirst. We drove along at a fast rate until 9 o’clock a. m. Our stock of water is almost out, and we have eaten nothing since yesterday. We do not know how far we are from water, but have concluded to “take a piece” at all hazards. This emptied some of our canteens entirely, and there is not now more than three pints of water in the company. The heat has been almost insupportable, but a slight breeze has just sprung up. Repacked and traveled at a rapid pace. By 11 o’clock our water was entirely gone, and some of us were suffering from thirst, uncertain when we should reach water. It operated so powerfully upon Maj. Green that he became almost frantic, and what the consequences would have been had we not reached water shortly afterward, God only knows. About one o’clock we saw a small trail leading off to the left of the road, towards what seemed to be some small trees and shrubbery; but we had so often been deceived by “mirage” during the day frequently imagining we saw trees, water, etc., in the distance that we scarcely knew what to do, whether to follow the trail in hopes of finding water, and lose the time if we failed, or, continue ahead as fast as possible. After a short deliberation we determined to pursue the former course. Our joy can scarcely be imagined when, after traveling a short distance, we came upon a pond or stream of water. Had it not been very warm the consequences might have been fatal to some of us, for we drank a large quantity of it. We now gave the mules as much as they could drink, but some of them had rushed into the pond and “helped themselves.” We could not account for this large body of fresh water at this place, having never read or heard of its existence. (We have since learned that it was “New River,” a stream that miraculously opened up in this desert waste during this summer). But for this God-send, hundreds of emigrants must have perished, many of whom, like ourselves, were poorly supplied with suitable water vessels. As it was, we heard of several that were lost and died from thirst. That it did not exist before this season is attested by travelers and Indians, who have been acquainted with the route for many years. It could not have been passed by unnoticed, for in one place it runs across the main traveled road. I think that it is a branch of the Colorado, or rather, an arm of that river. The bed of the stream indicates that it existed before. The point at which it leaves the main stream might have been closed up by the washing of sand, or the shifting of the current, which is very common in these western waters, and again opened by an unusual rise in the river. This is but a supposition; the true source has not yet been discovered. We saw a number of ducks and other wild fowl, when we first reached the water. Up to this point we have traveled twenty-four hours since leaving the Colorado, and concluded to unpack, have something to eat, and rest until evening. Shortly after we encamped a company of Sonorians came up, on their way home from the gold mines of California. We could talk but little Mexican, but learned from them that there were a great many Americans in the mines; that mules were worth from $100 to $300, etc. They showed us a quantity of gold dust, and said it was very abundant out in the diggings. Since leaving home we had seen or heard nothing from our place of destination, and we had almost forgotten the principal object of our journey. We had thought that we were on the safe side of the Jornada, but learned that we had yet a “long drive” before we reached Cariso creek. After a long search we found some beans about two miles from camp, where we took our stock to feed. The day has been very hot and the mezquite affords but poor shade. Distance (since last noted), 75 miles; 1950 miles out from Fort Smith.
Wednesday, Aug. 15. Left our place of encampment at dark last evening and drove along at a very rapid pace. Met great numbers of returning Senorians. Crossed a stream about ten yards wide New River, (of which we were not aware at the time), and so deep that it swam some of our smaller mules. Some persons encamped on the bank said it was a running stream of fresh water, and that we had better stop. Having traveled only 4 or 5 miles, and our canteens being yet full, we concluded to go on. About 10 o’clock we crossed a lagoon of salt water. The darkness prevented us seeing, but we knew that the Salt Lake must be but a short distance on our right. Yesterday we were much deceived by “mirage; ” that is, a large lake of water surrounded by trees and shrubbery, constantly appeared before us, receding as fast as we neared it. Our animals being greatly fatigued, we were obliged to stop at 2 o’clock a. m. and tie up to some bushes. I was very glad of it, for I had suffered all night from drowsiness, and a more disagreeable feeling can not be experienced. We lay down with empty stomachs. Our entire stock of provisions is now reduced to about 3 day’s rations, and we have already felt the gnawings of hunger. I was too much fatigued and sore to sleep, during the two hours that we lay down. When the moon rose, about 4 o’clock in the morning, we packed up and started in a N. W. direction. About 9 o’clock a. m. we entered the mountains. Armstrong abandoned his riding horse this morning, and more of our stock show strong symptoms of “giving out.” Our canteens are empty and we are obliged to push for water. After a hard struggle we reached Cariso creek, but found no water. The sight of the dry bed of a stream would not allay our thirst, and we made all haste up it until we reached the head, where a small rivulet is formed by the water oozing out of the ground in several places, flowing a short distance, and then disappearing in the sand. In our eagerness to reach water, it was the best man, or rather, the best animal foremost. We were scattered all along the way, and the last of the company did not get up for two hours after the first. We reached this point at 11 a. m. The water, though clear as chrystal, has a peculiar and unpleasant taste. We ate a piece, but we could find nothing for our animals to feed upon. There are a large number of Senorians encamped here, resting their stock, before they undertake crossing the desert. They have several hundred head of fine horses, which they have no doubt stolen
on the way, for it would seem poor policy to purchase animals in California to carry to Sonora, where they are said to be very cheap. They gave us glowing accounts of the gold diggings, and had large quantities of the dust in their possession. This appears to be a general encamping place, but the stench arising from the number of dead animals strewed about is almost sickening. Packed up and left Cariso creek at 3 o’clock p. m. Traveled up a narrow valley in a N. W. direction. The mountains on either side have a barren aspect, and the only vegetation in the valley is the mezcal plant and a few stunted, prickly bushes. Seeing some palmetto trees on our right, we judged we should find water there, and we were not disappointed. There are several springs, but the water was very bad, beside being polluted by the dead horses and mules that lay in and about them. We were obliged to encamp for the night, and left our animals to browse upon the few bunches of bear grass that grew around. Satisfied that we are now across the much dreaded desert, we lay down early and enjoyed the most comfortable night’s rest we have had in a long time. We also experienced a decided change in the atmosphere. Distance, 48 miles 1998.
Thursday, Aug. 16. We felt the shock of an earthquake during the night, so sensibly that we were all awakened by it. At day-break we packed up and started, our mules all the while crying and nickering from the pangs of hunger. The poor, worn-out creatures are to be pitied, having had no food for nearly forty-eight hours. Continuing up the valley three leagues we reached a fine green spot of grass containing a few acres. The earth is spouty an abundance of water, but not very good. Here we unpacked, and our animals set about satisfying their appetites with a great deal of avidity. We did not fare so well; could find no wood, except a few small green willows but it mattered little for we had little to cook. After the loss of a great deal of time and breath, we succeeded in boiling a pot of coffee. There are two or three Indian families living here, who say they belong to the San Felippe tribe. We saw the ruins of Maj. Graham’s camp, part of whose camp were obliged to go into winter quarters here, on their way to California in ’47 and ’48. They had thrown up adobe and mud huts, some of which are remaining. His troops suffered a great deal from cold, want of provisions, etc. At 2 p. m. we started for San Felippe, where these Indians told us we could procure breadstuff, etc., and the distance was 4 leagues. We ascended and descended several long, narrow valleys and ravines, and crossed two or three mountains. The sky had been overcast with clouds during the afternoon, arid towards evening a slight rain commenced falling, which in the course of an hour saturated our clothes, and made us feel very uncomfortable. This is the first rain that has fallen upon us since leaving the vicinity of the Rio Grande. Hill Dixon this afternoon abandoned his fine horse, which he had procured from the Apache Indians, the animal being totally unable to proceed. Night came upon us, but finding no water or grass we determined to go ahead. We have already traveled more than four leagues since leaving camp, but we had our information from the Indians, who knew but little about distance. It was very dark, but the trail being distinct, we succeeded in keeping it. About 8 o’clock we saw a dim fire ahead, and at 9 o’clock reached it. This proved to be San Felippe. The first thing we knew, our mules were into the unfenced corn patches, helping themselves, and the Indians hallowing and dogs barking, endeavoring to drive them out. Although the animals were very weary we expected a “stampede” every moment. The darkness was so intense that we could not see a single mule, nor each other. Where to go we knew not; but, after a great deal of trouble and vexation, groping about after our mules, etc., made an Indian to understand that we wanted him to guide us to grass and water, which he did. Here we unpacked, and turned our stock loose at the mercy of the Indians and the weather. We again lay down with empty stomachs in wet clothes; the air cold and still raining. Distance, 21 miles 2019.
CHAPTER XVII
Friday, Aug. 17. In the morning we found all our animals. The grass being good they had grazed around camp all night. The village of San Felippe consists of a few miserable looking huts, built of reeds. 85 The inhabitants cultivate a little corn, a few melons, etc.; altogether not more than one American, his wife, two children and a pig could subsist upon. They also live upon mezquite beans, prickly pears, etc. We had hoped to procure some provisions, but they had none; we made them every kind of offer but in vain. During the day we saw them butcher a poor mule, which had been left behind by some travelers. They knocked it down, and then each fellow jumped upon it and cut out a piece to suit his taste, without skinning, dressing or anything else. Had it been jerked, or even decently dressed, we should have come in for a share; but as it was, we could not “stomach it.” A heavy, cool rain this afternoon. In the evening we purchased a small quantity of coarse, sandy flour, brought to camp by the Indians, at $1.00 per quart; also some black, dirty molasses, made out of reeds, at 75c per pint. Some of the squaws visited us, wearing clean and pretty neatly made calico dresses, bare headed and bare footed. They are not beautiful by any means. We remained here to-day to procure provisions, but we will have to leave with sacks as empty as we came. We have not eaten a full, satisfactory meal since leaving the Pigmo Indian settlement, and have been on less than half rations most of the time. A large number of Sonorians passed to-day, on their way home.
Saturday, Aug. 18. A very heavy dew fell last night, which wet our blankets. This is the first dew that has fallen upon us since leaving the borders of the States. Here we heard the echo from the report of a gun, for the first time in the same distance. Started early, without breakfast, and traveled through a long, narrow valley, covered for some distance with a luxuriant growth of grass and several clumps of cottonwood trees. There is some pine timber upon the mountains, and grass, giving the country a fresh and pleasing appearance to eyes so long accustomed to sterile mountains and barren wastes. The atmosphere is cool and comfortable. This entire change in nature has sensibly affected our spirits, and they brighten in proportion. Passed several Indian huts, at one of which we procured some peaches, but they were not ripe. During to-day’s journey we saw the first California oak, which grows abundantly on the hills and in the ravines. We crossed a mountain of several hills and descended into another larger valley, in which is situated “Agua Caliente,” which we soon reached, and encamped beneath the shade of a fine oak. This place, more familiarly known as “Warner’s Ranch,” consists of a few old adobe buildings and Indian huts, situated at one end of a broad, beautiful valley covered with a fine growth of green grass and timber. Here we can see the road leading off S. W. to San Diego, and another west to Pueblo de los Angeles. The inhabitants have some corn, mellons, etc., under cultivation, and several small vineyards, but the fruit is yet unripe. There are both hot and cold springs here. The water of the former is said to contain valuable medicinal properties. The inhabitants wash their clothes and bathe in it. The latter is excellent water, and the coldest I ever drank. This is certainly a beautiful and romantic spot. Vegetation is said to continue verdant the year around. This is caused by the altitude of the place, being visited by heavy dews and occasional showers. This is not common to any other part of California. Mr. Warner was driven from his ranch some time ago by the inhabitants, and has not yet regained possession. There is an American here living with the Indians, from whom we purchased some coarse flour at $2 per alamo, or about $12 per bushel. The population is a crossed race of Indians, Californians and Mexicans. They speak the Spanish language, imitate the Mexicans in dress, and are very much addicted to gambling, which seems to be their only employment at present. This is a general stopping place for travelers, and there is now a large company of Sonorians engaged in jerking beef to last them home. There are no cattle, no meat of any kind, to be had at this place. This evening the Indians held their annual feast in honor of their god, whom they personify by worshipping the eagle. They kept up a hideous noise, singing, dancing, bellowing, howling, grunting, dog barking, guns firing, all night. Some of us slept but little. Distance, 18 miles; 2036 miles from Fort Smith.
Sunday, Aug. 19. If we could have procured a supply of provisions we would have remained here several days to rest and recruit. Having the promise of some flour, we waited until noon for it, but being disappointed we packed up and started, at the same time loath to leave the place. Traveled in a western course, on the Los Angeles road, gradually ascending for some miles, over a good mountain road, and then descending until we found grass and water and a suitable place for encamping. Met several squads of returning Mexicans, all of whom confirmed the report as to the abundance of gold, having proof in their possession. Distance, 10 miles 2047.
Monday, Aug. 20. Had some difficulty in finding part of our mules this morning, they having gone some distance on the back track during the night. Our road through the mountains is good; a few wagons have passed over it. The hills are covered with underbrush, the ravines are well timbered and the small valleys have good grass. Towards evening we reached a fine, open valley and encamped near a California ranch, in a peach orchard. The fruit unripe. Had fine water, good grass and but little wood. Distance, 22 miles 2069.
Tuesday, Aug. 21. Purchased a few alamos [almudes] of flour of the Indians by the way. Passed a cattle ranch, but could not buy a beef from the indolent creatures who had them in charge. A fine descending road through several small valleys, but finding no grass, (being now in the stock range), we did not stop until we unpacked for the night, on the margin of a beautiful lake some 12 miles in circumference, covered with wild fowls, and a vast herd of fine cattle grazing on the shore. We stopped early arid being very hungry, (having eaten no meat for a great while), we looked with longing eyes upon the fat yearlings running about within rifle shot. Some of us went to the ranch to purchase, but found it deserted. Returned to camp, decided to kill a beef, and soon put the matter into execution. Ten minutes after the knife passed its throat we had fresh meat cooking in the pans, on spits, on the coals, and every other way we could cook it. Panful after panful was fried; piece after piece roasted, until we had completely gorged ourselves, actually not knowing when to be satisfied. It was a “glorious” supper. Long after dark found us around the fire, with spit in hand, roasting “the last piece” again and again, before lying down for the night. By this time nearly half the yearling had disappeared a pretty good lunch for eleven weak bodied men. This will scarcely be believed by persons that have never experienced our “fix.” While in the midst of our bounteous repast the man in charge of the ranch, with several peons, came dashing up to the camp on horseback, attracted by the buzzards flying around the blood and offals of the slaughtered animal. We expected “gos,” [sic’] but after explaining to him the necessity of the case, he was very well satisfied, and charged us but $4, which we considered moderate. We “turned in” with satisfied appetites, for the first time in a long while, but found that we did not rest much better than when upon an allowance of weak diet. Distance, 25 miles 2094.
Wednesday, Aug. 22. Packed the balance of our beef along. Nooned at a California ranch, where we obtained green corn, melons, etc. The general appearance of the country as usual. Found a small patch of grass and a running stream, where we encamped. Distance, 15 miles 2109.
Thursday, Aug. 23. Started at daylight and traveled over a rolling country for several miles, when we crossed a beautiful valley, down the centre of which flows a small river of pure, cold water. Thousands of fine cattle were feeding upon the flat. We stopped to noon at 8 o’clock, after crossing the river. There is a ranch on the bank, but we could buy no provisions there; they told us that we could get all we wanted at the American ranch, a few leagues ahead. We had been directed to “los rancho Americano” several times before. At 1 o’clock we repacked and at 3 encamped at Mr. Williams’ ranch. This gentlemen was formerly from Wilkesbarre, Luzerne, county, Pa. From what I could learn he left Pennsylvania about the year of 1820, and came out to the Rocky mountains, where he followed hunting and trapping for a number of years. A few years ago he settled upon his present location, which is said to be the finest ranch in California; that he was then worth nothing but the clothes upon his body, but now owns eleven square leagues of land, 35,000 head of cattle, 1500 horses and mules, and a great many sheep. There is a flat of very rich land several miles in extent, well watered, which he proposes laying out into a town and farms, to be settled by Americans. Mr. Williams is apparently very much of a gentleman, freely selling what his ranch affords to emigrants at moderate prices, and giving gratuitously to those in needy circumstances. It is said that during the war he furnished the American army and navy with horses and cattle, for which he holds a bill against the United States government to the amount of $250,000; also that Col. Fremont made an offer of $200,000 for the ranch. Whether it was accepted, or why the sale was not made, I have never understood. Nearly all the emigrants by the southern route pass this ranch, and more or less have dealings with Mr. Williams. Contrary opinions have been formed as regards his character, generosity, etc.; some say that he has kept a strict account of all that he has given the needy emigrants, with the intention of presenting it to the U. S. government, etc., etc. Mr. Lane Trom Paris, Mexico, arrived here in advance of us, on his way to the mines. 89 He started from home with nine wagons and upwards of fifty mules. He was obliged to abandon all but one wagon and a barouche, which he sold to Mr. Williams, and has but fifteen mules left. He is an American who has resided in Mexico for a number of years, and a very clever man, but I fear he has lost more on the way than he will make in California. Here I saw a new method of “doctoring” sore backed mules, animals for which Mr. Williams had exchanged with travelers, being almost ruined by the chafing of pack saddles. The “caballada” was driven into the corral and the patients, one after another, lassoed, thrown down and firmly tied. Several young Indians then went to work, gouging the dirt and corruption out of the sores with their fingers, then they fill up the cavity with fresh slacked lime, and let the animals run; and in a short time, it is said, the sore will be healed up. It is a most cruel operation. I saw as much as a quart of maggots clawed out of a single sore. The hills in this vicinity are covered with the burrs of the wild clover, the stock of which has disappeared. Poor stock will fatten upon these burrs in two months. There is also an abundance of wild oats on the hills, which is excellent feed. The almost incredible number of cattle that range these hills and valleys, their size and condition, prove that this portion of California at least, is one of the finest grazing countries in the world. The horses are not so large as American. They are never accustomed to any other feed than the range, which accounts, in part, for their ability to perform long and fast journeys. An American horse does not “come out” or show well until broken or trained. The Californian is the reverse; when tamed his spirit is broken and his beauty gone. The Californians are cruel horsemen. The high mountains on the north of the valley, and the south end of the Sierra Nevada range, have a white appearance, which is said to be natural lime of good quality. The climate here is delightful, the day being warmest from 7 until 10 o’clock in the morning, after which the ocean breeze cools the atmosphere, making the remainder of the day pleasant. Distance, 20 miles 2129.
Friday, Aug. 24. We continued our course this morning, and stopped near Mr. Reed’s ranch. Hill Dixon and myself visited him. Mr. Reed came out from the state of Missouri in the year 1844. He now owns a well stocked ranch, a large vineyard, and has a comfortable house to live in. He is a young man, has a California wife, arid during the war her brother tried hard to take his [Reed’s] life. He gave us a great deal of information in regard to the country and the mines, whither he had lately been. We sat down (had almost forgotten how) to dinner with him, gotten up in regular California style tortillas, frijoles, and a sort of hash made of jerked beef, onions, red peppers, etc. We cleared the table, although abundantly spread, and thanked our host, for he would receive no pay. We returned to camp, pack up, went about two miles on the back track and encamped on a small stream, near a rude Mexican mill and several California and Indian ranches. We turned our animals into a large wheat field, off which the grain had been very imperfectly gathered. This was the object of our return, and they appear to fare so well that we have determined to remain several days, for the purpose of recruiting them and ourselves. Here we can procure beef, flour, bread, tomatoes, onions, melons, etc.; but at pretty extravagant prices, excepting beef. Distance, 12 miles 2141.
Saturday, Aug. 25. This morning we purchased a beef, butchered, and busied ourselves in curing it. We are once more in a land of plenty, comparatively, which makes us feel right comfortable. Washing our clothes and visiting the neighboring ranches to buy vegetables, learn Spanish, etc. This afternoon an eclipse of the sun took place. Having no almanac, it came upon us rather unexpectedly. Lots of melons and tomatoes in camp to-day. We enjoy the feast, expecting a famine to follow.
CHAPTER XVIII
Sunday, Aug. 23 This day forms almost a blank in my memorandum of events. We enjoy it as a day of perfect rest, for which it was designed, but by us so long misused, through necessity or indifference. We have nothing to care for but our stock, which are doing finely upon the wheat. The valley is covered with a thick growth of black mustard, now ripe, and of good quality.
Monday, Aug. 27. During the night we were annoyed by several skunks prowling through and about our camp, over our beds, etc., no doubt attracted by the fresh meat. They were unwelcome visitors, but we were obliged to show them all due courtesy “lay low and keep cool,” was the word, “or you will smell thunder, if you don’t hear it.” To-day the Virginia and Texas mess overhauled us. Dr. Winston and Capt. Fitzhugh have gone to San Diego, thence to San Francisco by water; Capt. Dixon, Green and Howard on a visit to Mr. Reed’s and Rohland’s. Day warmer than usual, but pleasant compared with what we have already passed through. Schaffle sold his gun to a Sonorian for three ounces of gold dust. The mill here is a curiosity. The stones are about two feet in diameter, and fed by a raw-hide hopper, which “chops” the grain at the rate of two bushels in twenty-four hours. The water works consist of a rough wheel, the power of which operates directly upon the stones, without extra gearing. It is attended by a woman, and two more are engaged in washing the grain and spreading it out on blankets to dry.
Tuesday, Aug. 28. To-day was spent in perfect idleness, lounging about camp, sleeping, etc., and as the mind generally sympathizes with the body, I have nothing to note.
Wednesday, Aug. 29. Packed up and started this morning. Our mules show the effect of good feeding, being very much improved in spirit, if not in body. Stopped at Mr. Rohland’s and purchased flour (sifted) at $8.00 per 100 pounds. Mr. Rohland was formerly from Harmany, in the neighborhood of Pittsburg, Pa. He is of German descent and would be known amongst a thousand as “one of the Pennsylvania Dutch.” He has been in the country a number of years, intermarried with Spaniards, and now enjoys peace and plenty. He owns a large ranch, well stocked, good buildings, a mill, and a beautiful garden and vineyard. We had the privilege of helping ourselves to the delicious fruit, which is certainly of the finest quality I have ever seen. There was an emigrant here, depending upon the charity of Mr. Rohland, who was so reduced by the “chill fever” that he could scarcely walk, and had no medicine to check it. I gave him some quinine, with directions to take it, for which he was very grateful. The country is of a rolling nature, pretty well watered. We crossed several streams, past two or three ranches, and reached Pueblo de los Angeles about 2 o’clock p. m. We inquired for accommodations for “man and beast,” but they could not furnish the former. We concluded it best to go together, and accordingly encamped outside of town, on the bank of a stream of pure, cold water. Distance, 20 miles 2161.
Thursday, Aug. 30. Concluded to remain here to-day, for the purpose of supplying ourselves with provisions for the remainder of the journey. A heavy dew fell during the night, and this morning we are enveloped in a dense fog. There are a number of American emigrants encamped here. Los Angeles is handsomely situated in the midst of a fertile, well watered country, surrounded on all sides by hills. There is no timber in the immediate neighborhood, except the small willows that grow upon the bank of the stream, on the south side of town, which is about 25 miles distant from the ocean. The buildings, with one or two exceptions, are one story adobes; many of them being plastered and white-washed, give the place a tolerably genteel appearance. Before the gold mines were discovered this was the largest town in California. Nine-tenths of the inhabitants are Spaniards, but a number of Americans are about settling in the place. Several American merchants that have been established here for some years, have realized handsome fortunes. Money is very abundant, and I saw a great deal of gold dust exchanged for merchandise. We purchased Chili flour at $12 per hundred pounds, equal, or if any difference, superior to American; coffee, 25c per pound; sugar, ST^c; tobacco, $2, and saleratus $8 per pound; tin cups, $1.50 apiece; frying pans, $5, etc. Saw sewing silk sold for its weight in gold. Liquor sold for two bits a drink; salt, $1 per pound; common knives and forks, $10 per dozen, etc. Doubloons circulate more freely than sixpences do in Pennsylvania. There are several pure Castilian families in the place, who are of a fairer cast than Americans. The soil is very productive in the vicinity. Wheat produces from 40 to 75 bushels to the acre. It is sown in January and ripens before the drought can injure it. The hills are covered with wild oats, and the valleys with clover, mustard, etc. About the first of December, or after the first rain falls, vegetation starts, and the country assumes a universal coat of verdure, which lasts until July of next year. All kinds of fruit and vegetables flourish; apples, pears, peaches, oranges, figs, apricots, grapes, melons, etc., etc., are abundant in season.
Friday, Aug. 31. Started this morning; passed over a rolling country for some distance; our course due north. Enjoyed the cool sea breeze, which increased almost to a gale. We are within a few miles of the ocean. Crossed a mountain and again turned our faces northward, up a large valley, in which a countless number of cattle were grazing, apparently without an owner not a house or man in sight. Saw some timber, live-oak, sycamore, walnut, etc. Encamped in a vineyard and turned our mules into a wheat field, near an Indian ranch, with the permission of the owner. If we were not “in clover,” wheat for our animals and grapes for ourselves were equally as good. We paid the Indians for the fruit we used, of course. Had a fine grape pie for supper. Distance, 20 miles 2181.
Saturday, Sept. 1. While at Los Angeles, I weighed 157 pounds, a gain of 7 pounds since leaving home. Maj. Green weighted 160 pounds, a loss of 58 pounds in the same time. So much for “high living.” We were advised by some Americans at Los Angeles, to take but 12 or 15 days’ provisions, cross the mountains into the valley of the San Joaquin, and proceed directly to the nearest mines, as a much shorter route, and the Maraposa being reported the best diggings in the country. This morning we found that we were upon the coast road, which is not our route. A Spaniard gave us direction, which we followed. The trail led over a level plain, covered with a dense growth of clover, and we soon reached the mission of San Fernando.
This place is almost deserted. A few Indians inhabit the dilapidated buildings, which were built by the Catholic church for their use and comfort. These California missions were once in a flourishing condition. Thousands of wild Indians were gathered around them, instructed in the “Holy faith” and taught to cultivate the earth. Each mission had its vineyards and fruit garden, a large tract of land under cultivation, and countless numbers of cattle, horses, sheep, etc. Good order, peace and plenty once reigned over these beautiful spots. The “Padre” had entire control of the concern and was reverenced as “prime ruler” by his devoted subjects. But all things have changed. The priests have left, nunneries are deserted, the Indians are scattered, and many of them have fled to their wild haunts in the mountains, and the buildings are fast going to ruin. By what I can learn, these changes have been brought about by revolutions in the country, altering the government of the missions, restricting the power of the Padres, etc., and finally, the country falling into the hands of the Americans, and the discovery of the gold mines, have made complete wreck of these once popular institutions. Although I am far from being a believer in the reign of the Roman Catholics, or rather their doctrines, I can not look upon those missions, and hear the story of their rise and progress and downfall, without feelings of regret, that they have not been sustained. The principal building in the mission of San Fernando, containing the church, convent, Padre’s rooms, &c., is a noble edifice, although the architecture is very rude. It is two stories high, built of adobes, plastered and white-washed. The roof is covered with fluted tile. The windows are crossed with iron bars, Its arches, pillars, belfry, statues, fountains, paintings, &c., give it an imposing appearance, and it must be acknowledged a well constructed edifice, for this country, where building material is so scarce. There are several Spaniards in charge of the building, yards, cornfield, &c. We purchased some pears and melons. There were a number of Indians keeping watch over the cornfield, each one perched upon a small scafford, above the tops of the corn. Shortly after leaving the mission we entered the mountains, following a small trail up the ravine, to the head, where an apparently impassable mountain seemed to obstruct our further progress. There was no alternative, we must either scale it or take the back track. It was not more than 5DO yards high, but very steep, and the trail scarcely visible. After one of the hardest struggles I have witnessed on the route, our mules reached the summit with their loads. The descent was almost as difficult. Shortly afterwards we encamped in a ravine, beneath the shade of some large sycamore trees; good grass, but little water. Saw a “grizzly” upon the mountains, but he was not within rifle shot and we could not get at him. Distance, 20 miles 2201.
Sunday, Sept. 2. Very cold last night. We now feel the need of the blankets we were obliged to throw away; we have but one apiece left. Shortly after starting we entered a small valley. A great many cattle in it, and we were led astray by their numerous trails. This detained us an hour or two, but finding the cassa, (Spanish name for house or home), we were righted on our course. Here we entered the mountain again, and crossed a very high range, so steep that we had almost “to lay down upon our backs to see the top of it.” The trail was beset by rocks, stones and bushes, and our travel this afternoon has been a continual ascent and descent. “Old Sol” poured down his rays upon us without mercy. Altogether it reminds me of the days of toil and fatigue we experienced upon the Rio Gila. We did not reach water until dark, which we found in the bed of a deep, dark chasm in the mountains. Here we encamped and turned our mules loose to browse amongst the rocks. Saw another “grizzly” to-day and several deer. Distance, 20 miles 2221.
Monday, Sept. 3. Continued amongst the mountains in a N. E. course and had a hard day’s travel of it. The trail is so indistinct in places that we could scarcely follow it. The fact is, few but Indians have ever passed over this road, and it is utterly impossible for wagons to travel it. Saw a small valley on our right hand, at the distance of a mile, the entire surface of which was as white as snow. We suppose it to be a deposit of salt, likely the dry bed of a salt lake. Met with a number of bear and deer to-day, but they were all at a distance from us, and we could not lose time to run after them. We encamped in a beautiful oak grove on the edge of a small valley, well grassed. A spring of good water near camp. One of the company shot a large catamount a few rods from camp. Distance, 20 miles 2241.
Tuesday, Sept. 4. Hill Dixon and myself start in advance of the company this morning, for the purpose of killing game. We saw nothing but three deer very high up in the mountain. The valley in which we encamped gradually narrowed into a ravine, down which ran a stream of clear, cold water. After descending this ravine for several miles we emerged upon the broad valley of the Rio San Joaquin, at the extreme south end. Here a solitary Indian family lives. They cultivate a few vegetables. It would be difficult to describe the desolate, barren appearance of the plains before us. We could discern the mountains that bounded the valley on the west. Not a tree, shrub, spear of grass, or drop of water was visible. If ever vegetation existed here it has entirely disappeared. The day was exceedingly hot, atmosphere hazy, and in the distance the air and horizon appeared to blend into one. We were almost afraid to “launch out” upon this wide waste. It seemed to us more forbidding than the desert of the Colorado. We had been instructed to keep down the valley on the west side of the Tule lakes, which we followed, but since have abundant cause to regret. The trail leads down the east side, and is the route usually traveled. We started in a N. W. direction, traveling over a level plain for about 10 miles, when we reached the head of the first lake, after stopping once on the way to rest. Saw a few antelopes, but could not get within shooting distance of them. Here we found several sickly Indian families encamped, living upon fish and muscles. The border of the lake is thickly beset with tule (bullrushes), making it difficult to get to water. It is literally covered with wild fowl. There is a small Indian trail down the west side of the lakes, but there are so many made by wild animals that we find it impossible to keep the right one. These Indians are anxious to have us go across the slue and travel on the east side. We could not understand the reason, and did not heed their warning and advice. We traveled until dark, finding no water or grass, and not being able to get to water, we stopped for the night and turned our mules loose to browse upon the tule, for there was neither grass nor bushes. But they were immediately attacked by myriads of mosquitoes, which did not make their appearance until sundown. To prevent their running away we were obliged to stand and hold them. We procured a little water to drink by cutting our way through tule and mosquitoes. No wood to cook, and have eaten nothing since early morning. We are again out of meat. We lay down, but to sleep was out of the question. The mosquitoes attacked us in perfect swarms, apparently intent upon having our very “life’s blood.” As much as ourselves and animals needed sleep and rest, we though it best to pack up and travel, which we did at 8 o’clock p. m. Being very dark we did not pretend to follow the trail. The mules were hard to drive, being very hungry, and still annoyed by mosquitoes. At 1 o’clock a. m. it became pretty cool, the mosquitoes left us, and we lay down to rest. Distance, 38 miles 2279.
CHAPTER XIX
Wednesday, Sept. 5. We had two or three hours comfortable sleep; but the poor mules, having nothing to eat, were noisy and restless. At daylight we packed up and traveled two miles, when we found a little salt grass and an opening to the water. Here we unpacked. We gathered up some dry weeds and managed to cook some bread and coffee. This is the first we have eaten for 30 hours. Left this point at 1 o’clock p. m., following a well beaten trail, which led us in a N. W. direction, leaving the lake in the N. E., and a mountain between us and the lake. After traveling about 15 miles we became satisfied that we were upon a wild horse trail, and bearing too much towards the mountains to the west. The range between us and the water still continued, and increased in size. Persons who have not witnessed it can scarcely form an idea of the sterile appearance of the country we passed over to-day. We have not seen a tree or living shrub since entering the valley. We are at a loss for a time what course to pursue. Our animals were beginning to fail; we had no water in our canteens, and knew that we could not again reach the lake before night. At last we concluded that our only course was to strike N. E. across the mountains, and reach water as soon as possible. Having no trail, we found traveling very difficult. The earth is dried up to a perfect dust, and every few steps the mules sink to the knees, in places where gophers, coatis (coyotes), and other animals have burrowed beneath the surface. When we reached the dividing ridge we were lucky in making the head of a ravine, down which we traveled in a winding course. We knew we were going towards the water from the numerous small wild animal trails that led in the same direction. Night came upon us, we lay down in the ravine without water, food or grass. Distance, 25 miles 2304.
Thursday, Sept. 6. Reached the lake at eight o’clock this morning; unpacked, watered and grazed our animals and ate a piece. The atmosphere so hazy that we can see but a mile or two. We have concluded that the mountain which we went so far out of our course to avoid, is the dividing point between the first and second lake. Col. mont and other travelers who have never seen them represent the Tule as one continued lake, about 70 miles in length. Instead of this, it consists of three, in the form of a crescent. Col. F. also said that this part of the valley, lying west of the lake and San Joaquin river, is an almost perfect desert, which thus far has proven true. We again started at 1 o’clock p. m., our course N. along the shore. The earth is very soft, resembling dry ashes or quicklime, into which the mules sink almost to their knees at every step. Encamped at dark and turned our mules into the tule, which their hunger forced them to eat with avidity; but they were soon attacked by millions of mosquitoes, and it was with difficulty we prevented their stampeding. Never did poor mortals suffer more than we from the attacks of those insects fight the mosquitoes, and hold our animals by the head, was all we could do, having nothing we could tie them to. Not one of us slept a wink during the night. Distance, 20 miles 2324.
Friday, Sept. 7. Finding it impossible for either man or beast to rest, we packed up and started long before daylight. Drove several hours, when we came to the end of the lake, and were obliged to strike N. E. to a slue for water. Here we nooned and returned to the trail, upon which we continued in a N. W. direction until night, and again turned N. E. several miles for water, over a flat cut up by slues. Not finding any, we encamped without water. We had been instructed to cross Lake Fork, a river pulling in at the south end of the lakes. After deliberating upon the subject, we concluded that we were past all the lakes and that it would be necessary to return to the foot of the lake to cross the fork. Distance, 20 miles 2344.
Saturday, Sept. 8. Annoyed during the night by a band of wild horses running around camp, trying to entice our mules off. We have already seen a lot of them. They are certainly the wildest animals I ever saw. Returned to our trail about 22 miles, which proved a very unwise move, being unable to cross a slue. Here we nooned. Again moved up over our old trail and encamped where we nooned yesterday, losing a day and a half, and hard marching at that. Distance, 20 miles 2364.
Sunday, Sept. 9. Still thinking that we had passed all the lakes and that the rise in them had filled this slue with water, we determined to continue along until we should head it, and then strike a due north course to the San Joaquin river. We soon rounded the slue, and thinking difficulties and perplexities at an end, we bore north over a perfectly barren plain for about 10 miles. Saw several large herds of antelope. We were deceived by the singular phenomena mirage. We thought we plainly saw the course of the much desired river, even the trees on the banks. Our surprise and disappointment cannot be imagined, when, ascending a gentle rise another Tule lake lay before us, directly across our course, extending east and west as far as the vision can reach. Here was an end to our brightened prospects; for we had already imagined ourselves encamped on the bank of the river, with plenty of wood, good water, fresh fish, and but two or three days’ journey from our destination. Our situation is enough to alarm us. Many of our animals are apparently upon their “last legs.” We have not full two days’ rations or provisions left. Some days ago we began to fear that we would not reach the mines in the expected time, and confined ourselves to half rations, which we again reduced to quarter rations, and upon this fare we subsisted for several days nothing but bread and coffee at that. This amount of food will not sustain us, and do our necessary work. The jaded condition of our mules obliges us to walk a great portion of the time. For the same reason we packed but 12 days’ provisions from Los Angeles, which we were told would be an abundance ; and no meat expecting to kill game. But this is a poor dependence. We cannot hunt without stopping, and this would be a loss of time, and but few of us have guns left. Starvation or mule flesh stares us in the face, but we will no doubt prefer the latter. To kill and eat one of our faithful animals, that has brought us thus far, seems rather revolting, but we look upon it as a thing certain, and have already selected the first victim. This lake like the former one, is bordered with tule, and is literally covered with wild fowl of every variety, amongst others the pelican, swan, goose, brunt, ducks, herons, curlews, plovers, snipe, etc. They are so abundant that there is an immense deposit of guano along the shore in law water. The water we have to use is the essence of this deposit, and is really disgusting, although we had become accustomed to bad water. I had the good fortune to shoot a pelican, which we sat about devouring upon the spot. We skinned the bird, cut it in pieces, made a fire of dry tule, and each person taking a portion, roasted it to suit himself. We wallowed it about in the smoke and dirt, the rushes not making heat enough to cook it. Alas! after all our trouble the “bird” was too strong for our weak stomachs; however, it fully sufficed for dinner, without eating it. Those who happened to swallow a bite were sickened. I never wish to dine on pelican again. The name of the infernal bag-throttled creature is enough for me. We decided to travel west along the lake. Wild fowls cover the water in many places for fifty acres in extent, and their incessant screaming would terrify an army, almost. Towards evening we encamped, without food or grass, as usual, and after partaking of a “cup of guano tea,” we lay down to meditate upon our troubles and misfortunes. But nothing (except mosquitoes) can long keep sleep away from the eyes of the wayworn traveler. Distance, 20 miles 2384.
Monday, Sept. 10. Started before daylight, without breakfast, following the course of the lake, which led us in a due west direction. Several of us waded out into the lake in search of muscles, the empty shells of which we saw upon the shore. Found none, which was another disappointment. Killed a duck or two and ate them, which only served to arouse our appetites. Armstrong shot at a wild colt, and wounded him, but he got off, the blood running from him at every step. If he could have succeeded in killing him we would have had a fine supply of fresh meat. During our march this afternoon I attempted to walk along the shore of the lake and shoot some ducks, but was so weak that I could do nothing, and was glad to get on the back of my mule again. Toward evening we discovered a gang of elk, drinking at the edge of the lake. They all ran off toward the mountains on seeing us except one buck, which remained in the water for some time. Hill Dixpn, having a good rifle, and being acquainted with the habits of the animals, placed himself in ambush near the trail of the others, and as he came along he fired and mortally wounded him. He ran about two miles when another shot from Hill’s rifle brought him to the ground. He wounded another, but we did not follow him into the mountain. We dressed the buck and packed the meat taking it into camp upon two mules. The dressed quarters would at least have weighed 400 pounds. This stroke of good luck dissipated the idea of eating our mules. The meat was excellent, resembling young beef. We enjoyed a rare and bounteous feast this evening, and I think it was seldom that men were more in need of being full fed than ourselves. Supper lasted from dark until 10 o’clock. Distance, 15 miles 2399.
Tuesday, Sept. 11. Did not start until 10 o’clock, being engaged in cutting up and packing our elk meat. We have reached the western end of the lake, and our course is now north. Passed an Indian village of about 30 huts. They stay here during the dry season and live upon fish, wild fowl, muscles, etc. They also collect the seed of a species of grass that grows along the lake here in abundance. It resembles flaxseed, somewhat, being of a glutinous nature. They parch and pulverize it, and it makes a very good flour. We tried to purchase some of it, being out of breakstuffs, but they would sell none. We endeavored to hire a guide here, but failed. At this place we came upon the trail of five California carts, which came from the Mission of San Luis, and went to the mines, loaded with merchandise. Encamped at the end of the lake; no wood or grass, and the water still very nauseous to the taste. We spied what we thought to be a pole sticking in the ground about half a mile from camp. On going to it we found a number of small poles placed around an Indian grave, and the one we saw standing upright. Glad to get firewood we robbed it completely, not stopping to discuss the question of right or wrong. Again beset by myriads of hungry mosquitoes. We neither rested nor slept during the whole night. Distance, 15 miles 2414.
Wednesday, Sept. 12. Started early, but soon lost the trail, the country being literally cut up with paths of wild animals. Saw a great many wild horses, elk, antelope, wolves, rabbits, etc. The horses generally run in large “caballadas,” hundreds or more together. On first sight of us they toss up their heads and manes, snort and prance about for a moment. They then start at full speed for the mountains, always in single file. A cloud of dust marks their course, for they seldom stop until far out of sight. It is a beautiful show. They are all colors, and many of them noble looking animals. They frequently come near camp after dark, and course around it at night, endeavoring to entice our mules away. The Spaniards are in the habit of coming into the valley at a certain season of the year, to lasso horses. This art must certainly require very fleet and well trained animals. We had not traveled long this morning before we came in sight of timber, which we hailed with joy, being the first we have seen for eight days, or since we have been in the valley. When we came up with the timber we found it to border on a deep, muddy stream, running south towards the lake. This we afterwards learned was Lake Fork river, which we should have crossed. We were anxious to get over, but could find no fording. It appears that we are never to see the end of our troubles and perplexities. By a more extended calculation, we had expected to be at the mines before this time. We are now out of provisions and more than 100 miles from the diggings. But we will not despair while “we have the wide world before us and Providence for guide.” Distance, 16 miles 2430.
Thursday, Sept. 13. After failing to cross the stream yesterday, we traveled 8 miles in a N. W. direction, and encamped on the border of a swamp, where we found good grass and tolerable water. This morning we returned to the river, being pretty certain, although not sure, that we could cross at that point. We retraced our steps, and after a long search in vain, we gave up the idea that we should cross there, and concluded to shape our course N. W., until we should reach the Rio San Joaquin. Returned to the place we had left this morning and encamped, making the loss of another day. Very discouraging. Distance, 16 miles 2446.
CHAPTER XX
Friday, Sept. 14. Found an Indian trail this morning, which we followed for several hours, when we came to a deep slue of stagnant, though fresh good water. Here we found two or three Indians encamped on their way from the mines. They had been working for Col. Fremont, and had been paid in blankets and clothing. These Indians are very lazy, and will only work for clothing, preferring to steal their food, live on acorns, roots, fish, etc., or do without. They care nothing about money, and if they happen to get any it is immediately spent for some article of clothing or ornament. These Indians informed us that we were four days’ journey from the mines, two from the San Joaquin river, without a trail and a difficult course, having no landmarks, which we found pretty correct, “only more so.” After a hard day’s march, and a very winding one, we encamped on a patch of good grass near a reed swamp, from which we procured water. No wood, but we gathered a large pile of dry wild horse dung and set it on fire, which answered the purpose very well, and is certainly an improvement upon buffalo chips. We roasted the last of our elk meat and ate it this evening. Our provision sacks are now empty. Having nothing to cook our meat in, or with, we were obliged to roast it on spits and it was well scented by the fuel. With a good wood fire this is by far the best way of cooking fresh meat. It has a much sweeter flavor. We see an abundance of game during the day, but can not get within shot, the country being so level. The country still has the same barren appearance, except on the immediate border of the marshes, slues and rivers in the centre of the valley. Had we not become accustomed to mirage we would be deceived by it every day; as it is, it is hard to believe what “our eyes see.” Groves of trees and flats of grass constantly appearing before us in the desert waste, and never reaching them, only serves to make traveling more wearisome and unpleasant. The weather is now comfortable during- the day and very cool at night. The hazy state of the atmosphere continues, and heavy dews fell during the night. Wild horses around camp this evening. Distance, 25 miles 2471.
Saturday, Sept. 15. Shortly after we started three antelopes crossed our path a short distance ahead of us. Being in advance I shot two of them, one of which we packed along, and gave the other to several emigrants, who had encamped with us and were also out of provisions. We shaped our course N. W. and about 11 o’clock a. m. reached a large slue, which we at first thought to be a river. It was about 30 yards wide, deep, but we could observe no current, although the water was clear and fresh, and abounded in fish. On the west of us we saw a heavy line of timber; following down the slue in that direction, we soon reached its junction with the San Joaquin river. We have reason to rejoice that we have at last reached this point, for we have been bewildered and troubled no little since entering the valley. Several mules “gave out” before reaching camp this evening, but were afterwards brought up. The fact is, we are amongst the first persons that ever traveled down this desert side of the valley, which we have since ascertained. The river is about 60 yards wide and from 2 to 4 feet deep at this place. The current runs at the rate of 1% miles per hour. The water is very cold, clear and good. It runs on a bed of sand which is bespangled with flakes of mica, resembling gold, and abounds in fine fish called mountain trout, of the same species that we caught in the head waters of the Rio Gila. The banks of the river are skirted with a thick growth of large and small willows and underbrush. The entire bed of the river is several hundred yards in width, and the banks 15 feet high, which are no doubt full in time of high water. We are encamped on the great bend in the river, which a few miles west of us flows off in a N. W. direction. It rises in the Sierra Nevada mountains and flows S. E. to this point, where its general course is N. W. to its mouth. We have not yet had a glimpse of the Sierra Nevada range. Distance, 20 miles 2491.
Sunday, Sept. 16. Eight of our mules were missing this morning and we did not recover them until noon. We trailed them several miles and found them amongst a band of wild horses. We had great difficulty in separating them from the horses, and what seems strange, the mules that were broken down the evening before were amongst the number. The wild horses had led them away from camp during the night. They are a great annoyance to travelers. However, this delay proved a fortunate circumstance to us. We did not move camp. Capt. Dixon shot two antelopes; and one of our party who crossed the river in search of the lost mules, met a company of gold diggers on a “prospecting” expedition to Kings river, which I believe is a branch of the San Joaquin. Their captain, Mr. Walker, is an old Indian trader, has been in this country some years, and visited the States six times by the overland route. He gave us a great deal of information concerning this country, the gold mines, etc. But what was better than all, we purchased three days’ rations of American flour from them. This was very providential. We gave 50 cents per quart for it, which was reasonable. These various matters occupied our time during the day. Indications of rain, but none fell. We actually suffered from cold during the night.
Monday, Sept. 17. Found a shallow fording and crossed the river early this morning. We hurried the mules through, which prevented their miring in the quicksand. We were advised by Capt. Walker’s company to continue up the river a day’s march, and then strike in a N. E. direction for the mountains. We nooned at some deserted Indian wigwams, and caught some fish for dinner, which we roasted in the ashes. The country lies higher on this side of the river, but is almost as sterile as the other side. The earth is of the same ashy nature, into which the mules sunk at every step. The surface is made irregular by the numerous little hillocks scattered over it. We encamped on the bank of the San Joaquin, which is certainly a pretty stream, runs in a clear bed, is as clear as crystal, and very meandering in its course. Distance, 20 miles 2511.
Tuesday, Sept. 18. Left the river this morning and traveled in a N. E .direction by the compass. In a short time the mountains became visible, when we bore due north for them, and reached the table land about 2 o’clock p. m. The day was very hot, and we nooned without water for ourselves and animals. Packed up and spent the rest of the day in search of water, but found none, and were obliged to encamp without it. We found a green spot where there had lately been water and had good grass for the mules. Distance, 20 miles 2531.
Wednesday, Sept. 19. These mountains are very barren, but there is a species of oak growing in the ravines. To produce acorns for Indian food and make fire wood is about all this tree is good for. It is large and branching, but very short in the trunk. After an hour’s drive we came to a small, clear running stream. Supposing this to be one of the mining rivers, and within reach of provisions, we ate our last small rations of bread and meat, of which we were much in need, having eaten nothing since yesterday morning. All hands were certain that we would have our “eyes” at least full of gold dust in less than twenty-four hours, and of course, once in the diggings we could get something to eat, and “all about supper” in the mines was the joke about camp. Well, we packed up and traveled until dark, expecting every moment to hear the music of the pick and shovel, or meet some “umbra” that could direct us to the desired haven. But we were (green, wa’nt we?) doomed to be disappointed in our expectations, and we again encamped without water or anything to eat. Some of our men did not get in for several hours after we encamped, their riding mules having failed under them. We killed an animal resembling a ground hog this afternoon, on which we expected to have a delicious supper. After dressing him as well as we could without water, we threw the carcass into the fire and “stirred him up” until we thought him “done brown.” But, alas! like the pelican, a single bite sufficed for supper. We laid it aside, sorry that we had troubled packing it into camp, and turned in to rest if we could, or suck the gums to allay the thirst, thinking that we could eat something if we had it. Distance, 20 miles 2551.
Thursday, Sept. 20. Made an early start, and the small path we were on soon led us to the water. This we found in a deep ravine in the mountains. The bed of the stream was dry, except in this one place, but from signs a large body of water poured down it during the rainy season. This is the character of many of the small streams running from these mountains. We found horse and mule tracks a short distance up the ravine, but there they ended. After a fruitless search for a trail leading out in the direction we wished to go, we were obliged to descend the rocky bed of the arroyo. We were not aware at this time that we were so near the “Maraposa” diggings, which are located within ten miles to the eastward of this point. Ignorance may be the “mother of vice,” but it was the cause of misfortune and suffering to us in this case. Having nothing to cook we tried acorns, but they were too green and bitter. We drank a cup of coffee and started. We had gone but a short distance when we again found the trail of cart tracks, which we had been endeavoring to follow, and continued on this for some time before we discovered that we were traveling in a S. E. direction, and directly on the back track. Here was a dilemma; which way to go we knew not. Three-fourths of our mules were completely worn out, and ourselves so reduced in strength that we could scarcely pack and unpack. After a short deliberation we concluded to return to the ravine, which we had followed out to the edge of the plain. Here we found another small hole of water, some grass, and encamped beneath the shade of a large spreading oak. John Musser, Hill Dixon and Charles Gathwait took four of the best mules and started in search of the mines for provisions. They had gone but a mile or two when Dixon and Gathwait “had some words” about the course, (they were of the same mess); Hill knocked Gathwait off his mule and he fell “smash” into a hornet’s nest. The insects, not liking this, attacked the intruder on all sides. He not knowing where he was, or what this new pain meant, sung out lustily for help to get out of h 1. Poor Charley returned to camp writhing with pain; his “eyes blacked,” face swollen, and “blind as a bat.” There is no doubt but that hunger quickens the temper and destroys man’s best nature. We have not met a single person since leaving the San Joaquin river that could give us any information, not even an Indian whom we could employ as guide, without which it is difficult to travel in this country, there being so many trails running in various directions. Those that went in search of provisions, were instructed to strike a due north course, in case they could find a well-beaten satisfactory trail to follow. We drank a little coffee and lay down to meditate upon our “fix.” Slept, but only to dream of “sides of bacon,” “pots of mush,” and other luxuries, that we despised in days lang syne. Distance, 5 miles 2556.
Friday, Sept. 21. This morning I gathered up an old, dirty bag that had contained sugar, and boiled it out. In this water we boiled coffee, and a better cup I never drank. Some of us started out with our guns and succeeded in killing a small hare, a hawk, and a few woodpeckers, quails and doves. These we put into a camp kettle and made it full of broth, but it scarcely deserved the name, being so thin and poor. Out of this nine of us ate, or rather supped, for there was scarcely a bird to the man. We styled it “bird tea.” This is all we have eaten for 52 hours. The condition of our bodies can well be imagined. My rifle is the only gun left in our mess, out of what we started with. We made all the effort we could to kill some large game, but without success. We anxiously looked for relief until dark, expecting our men to return; but they did not come and we began to fear that they had strayed from their course, for we were all satisfied that we could not be far from “some place.” When night set in Howard and Armstrong saddled up their mules and started out on the same errand. We made up our minds not to kill one of our mules until reduced to the last extremity. This evening Capt. Dixon learned Maj. Green “how to fire-hunt”; accordingly the captain shouldered the “blazing pan” and rifle and the major a bag of small wood, to keep up the flame, and sallied out. They returned in about an hour, not being able to “shine any eyes.” We turned in, but the gnawing of hunger would not suffer us to sleep soundly. Our slumbering visions were disturbed by the sight of bloody mule steaks smoking on the spit, but before we could enjoy the imaginary feast, the shrill howl of a caoti [coyote] would “tear our eyes open.”
CHAPTER XXI
Saturday, Sept. 22. I started out this morning in hopes that I could kill an antelope, but was so weak that I could not hold out long, and after a stroll of two or three miles, I was obliged to return to camp. We attempted several times to eat the green acorns, boiling and toasting them, but they only sickened us. We firmly resolved to kill a mule to-morrow morning if our men do not return before that time with provisions. (We have since learned that a number of companies, coming into the San Joaquin valley from the coast on their way to the Maraposa mines, were as badly bewildered as ourselves, and some of them much worse, getting into the mountains amongst the Indians, and were obliged to live upon grasshoppers, acorns, horse beef, etc.) About 3 o’clock p. m. Howard and Armstrong returned, having run the trail out on which they started. They sung out for some mule beef before they had reached camp, thinking that we had certainly butchered one by this time. A few moments after Musser and Dixon came in with a mule load, having been more successful. After a considerable winding about amongst the mountains in search of a trail they struck out in a due north course, and reached the Rio Marcaides [Mercedes], where they saw some cattle, and shortly afterwards a man, who directed them to Scott and Montgomery’s ranch, a few miles down the river, which they reached yesterday evening. 98 They purchased and packed the supplies last night, and left early this morning. When about to buy they were asked whether they had any money? Of course they wanted to know why such a question was asked, and were told that if they had money “they must pay well for what they got, and if not they should have it anyhow; that’s the way we do business in California.” Our boys said they likely had enough, but none to spare, and they charged accordingly 75c per pound for pork, 75c for jerked beef, 62 %c for flour, 55c for sugar, 37 Va for green beef, etc. 3 days’ rations. The bill amounted to $90, the whole of which could have been purchased in Lewisburg for $5. We thought it “smacked” strongly for the diggings, but we rejoiced to get it at any price, and immediately set about satisfying our appetites. John and Hill were two or three meals ahead of us, but they well earned them. I ate very sparingly of bread alone, fearing the effect, but with all my care I was very unwell during the night, and at the same time suffered from toothache. Hill and Charles “shook hands and made up,” and peace and plenty being once more restored in camp, a more pleasant, jovial evening has not been enjoyed in a long time, and our past troubles and trials were set aside as things that have happened but cannot happen again. Besides all this, our boys, while at the ranch, saw some of the genuine gold diggers and lots of the dust, that had been taken out of the earth not more than two days’ journey hence. Under the circumstances, who wouldn’t feel good? “0, California! That’s the land,” etc., etc.
Sunday, Sept. 23. Our mules have done finely, and started off more lively than usual. Traveled in a N. W. direction, over rolling tablelands, and stopped to noon at a fine pool of water. Towards evening we reached the Rio Marcaides and encamped. Here we found a large trail and wagon road leading up to the river. This is a beautiful, clear, running stream, abounding in fish, and at this point is 20 feet wide and 1 ft. deep. Distance, 16 miles 2572.
Monday, Sept. 24. Unwell during the night and feel bad this morning. Going up the river some distance, we left it and turned to the right, on the road leading to the Maraposa mines. It had been our intention to stop on the Marcaides, but having become so accustomed to traveling we could not halt. Like the sailor, we would be out of our latitude in any other business. We saw where some washing had been done, but nobody was at work. Traveled over a mountainous country, partly covered with stunted oak, pine and other timber. The earth is of a reddish cast, clay and gravel, with slate and quartz rock cropping out in places. We nooned at a spring by the wayside. Here we met persons going to and from the mines, and have heard the first unfavorable side of the story; which of course we did [not] relish. Several persons from more northern diggings said, “we have heard that rich deposits of gold have been discovered in the Maraposa region, and we are on our way thither, to get some of the big lump; for in the Towalume diggings, which we have just left, we can’t make more than an ounce a day to do our best, and that won’t pay salt.”
“It is all a d d lie about their discovering rich diggings in the Maraposa region,” said another man. “I’ve just come from there myself, nine-tenths of those at work are not actually making their bread, and it’s a rare chance that a man makes an ounce a day. If I hadn’t left when I did I should have starved. I’m bound for the Towalume diggings myself. A friend of mine has just returned from there, and says that he can make two or three ounces a day easy. And if I can’t make that, an ounce a day, as you say a man can make, it is better than to work for nothing in the cursed Maraposa diggings.” And thus the conversation ran on. We “pricked up our ears,” for we found out that this gold question, like many others, has two sides, and can be discussed. Another poor fellow inquired the distance to Scott’s ranch; said that he tried his luck in the diggings, and was satisfied that there was none for him, that he was now on his way to San Francisco to start home, and if God would let him live long enough to get out of the country, he would never want to hear the word “gold dust” mentioned. These were knock-down arguments, but we have traveled some five thousand miles to “see the sights,” and see it we would. Accordingly we proceeded on our journey and encamped near a spring on the mountains. I have kept up with the company but a small portion of the day, having frequent very sick spells, when I would be obliged to alight and lay down in the shade until better. When I reached camp I was much fatigued and very weak. Distance, 16 miles 2588.
Tuesday, Sept. 25. Unwell all night. Packed up this morning for the last time, we hope, (until ready to vamose from the diggings), and continued our journey over a mountainous country. Met a number of Americans and Spaniards packing from the mines, and passed others on their way thither, heavily laden with provisions, merchandise. etc. Passed a number of dry diggings, at present unworked for want of water. The amount of earth thrown up appears almost incredible; the bed of almost every ravine and gulch is turned over. About 2 o’clock wo reached tho foot of tho arroyo, known as Fremont’s diggings, and “dropped anchor’* in sight of the “promised land,” after the lapse of seven months since leaving home, and an overland journey of twenty-six hundred (2600) miles.
May 24, 1850. My log-book, or “notes by the way,” ended with our journey; but our experience since arriving in the country, and what we have “seen and heard,” may prove interesting for future reference, in noting which. 1 am satisfied that an occasional leisure hour will not be entirely misspent. I can say for our mess that 1 never hoard a man (save one) regret the adventure, either on road or since; but have heard scores by the way almost curse the day that they ventured upon the hazardous and foolhardy enterprise, and had they known what they were obliged to endure, all the gold in California could not have enticed them from home.
Our experience at gold digging was short and unsuccessful. The day after we arrived at Maraposa mines, we moved camp to a spot we had selected, upon the point of a rocky bluff, overlooking a large part of the gulch in which digging was going on. Here we “set up stakes,” or rather lay down our empty, worn-out packs, beneath the imperfect shade of several small oak trees. We had no tent, nor had we slept under coyer since leaving Santa Fe. There was no grass in the vicinity, and the Indians were stealing animals every night and driving them off into the mountains. We concluded to send our mules to Scott’s ranch on the Marcaides, where we could have them run with a “caballada,” upon the range, at $8 per month each, and no security for their safe keeping. Our first business was to purchase a supply of provisions. There were several stores in the place. some in tents, others in the open air. We found prices to range pretty much as follows: Tea, $fl; Hour, 50c per pound; pork, 75c; saleratus. $S per pound, etc. This was said to be very cheap, and really was, but at the time we thought it sank pretty deep into the small remnant of “coined dust” we had brought with us. It cost about $2 per day to live, and do our own cooking. We were surprised to see how willing merchants were to credit persons coming into tho mines with provisions, tools, etc., and also noticed that the miners were not in the habit of paying cash, but settled their bills at the end of the week or month. Our next step was to take a walk through the diggings, see how they did it, what tools were required, and select a spot to commence operations.
The first hole that attracted our attention was at a narrow point in the arroyo, and from the appearance of the rock on either side, a ledge once obstructed the passage of the stream, which is now so low that the water appears only at intervals, and sinks. In this place there were three persons at work. They sunk the hole some 8 or 10 feet deep; one was engaged in bailing out water, another was scraping up the gravel and sand in the bottom, and the third washed it out in a wooden bowl. We saw him washing out several times, and always had from half an ounce to two ounces. This we thought “first rate luck,” but they worked hard for it, and were wet from head to foot. Several persons were working with them, with tolerable success. We went a little farther up the gulch, and stopped to inquire of a man what luck. He was taking out about an ounce per day. Another man was at work opening a new hole; he said that he had worked three weeks in a hole some distance above, and made but a few dollars. If he didn’t have better luck this time he would leave for some other diggings. Here the Sonorians were at work, burrowing under the ground, and working very slowly and carefully collecting none but the earth containing gold, which they packed off to water upon their heads. The Americans seldom work in the dry diggings. We saw a number of machines at work with varied success. They consisted of a rocker or cradle, dug out of a pine log, placed in a slanting position, and put in motion by means of a lever. The earth and water is poured in at the upper end, passes through a copper or sheet iron sieve, and runs off at the lower end, the gold and some sand settled to the bottom and is retained by several cross pieces or shoulders, left on the bottom when dug out. We soon became satisfied looking at others, and also satisfied that the larger portion of those at work were making but little more than board. We supplied ourselves with the necessary tools and went to work. Paid $16 for a crowbar, $8 for a shovel, etc.
Opening a hole in these diggings was a pretty difficult job. It was not worth while to clear off a large spot, for it would only be by chance that we would find gold at the bottom, and the stone and clay were closely cemented together, making the digging very hard. When we reached the rock we found that a “knife” was necessary to dig out the crevices, and a “horn spoon” to scrape it up. I tried washing, but when I had all the earth and sand out of the pan, there was no gold in the bottom. I gave that part of the play up in despair, having never washed out a peck. We sank several holes, all with like ill success. While we were in the mines the total earnings of three of us was about $40, and our expenses $100. These mines are 80 miles distant from Stockton and 180 miles from San Francisco by land. Col. Fremont holds a claim of 100 square miles, which he purchased of the Spanish governor of California.” This covers the most valuable portion of the Maraposa gold regions. His partner Mr. Godey had a store here, and a large number of Indians employed at digging. He had discovered a large vein of quartz rock said to be rich in ore, and has erected a rude machine for crushing it. From what we could learn there were about 200 Americans and as many foreigners and Indians at work in these diggings. The Americans were mostly from Texas and other southern states. The entire population appeared orderly and well disposed. The men went about their work, leaving camp, their provisions and money to take care of themselves. It is seldom that punishment is necessary in the mines, but when required, I am told that the Lynch law is immediately put in force, and offenders may expect a “rough handling.” There was a good deal of liquor sold, at 50c per glass and $5 per bottle. There was a man buried a short distance from our camp who died from the effects of drink at these prices.
On Sunday there was an election for alcalde, and an auction. I saw panol bought at $10 per 100 pounds for horse feed. The Mexicans prepare it by roasting the wheat before grinding it, and eat it with sugar and water. We saw very few men digging on the Sabbath; with the above exceptions, the day was pretty well observed. In the evening, when nothing was to be seen but the many camp-fires, and all was still but the low hum of conversation as it came up from the different groups around the lights, and at once, from the opposite side of the arroyo, a loud, musical voice stuck up,
“On Jordon’s stormy banks I stand, etc.” It sounded strange, and yet familiar, in this wild, pent-up corner of the world. As the sound rolled along the gulch, and reverberated from the hill and mountain, it reminded us of “good old Methodist times’* at home, and we concluded that the singer must be one of ’em.
CHAPTER XXII
Green, Howard and Fox, who worked together, were more lucky in digging than Musser, Schaffle and myself. Howard picked up a piece containing some quartz which weighed nine ounces. I saw one piece that weighed five pounds, and several others weighing 3, 2 and 1 pounds. Mr. Armstrong became dissatisfied with the country and diggings and made up his mind to go home. I believe he never struck a blow nor washed a grain. He had been unwell for some days. We were sorry to see him leave. He had been a good fellow and deserved the best wishes of us all. I suffered more from sickness during the two weeks I remained in the mines than I had for many years previous. Howard, Musser and Fox were also unwell. Indeed, we did not know the condition to which our systems had been reduced by the fatigues of traveling, and scanty allowance of food, until we attempted to work. Fearing that we would not recover until we got out of the place, Musser and myself concluded to go “down country,” see San Francisco, Stockton, get our “news,” purchase a tent and supply of provisions, pack them into the mines, and winter there. Accordingly, we got up “Old Whitey,” for whose board we had been paying 50 cents per day, with the privilege of browsing upon the mountains, packed several saddles, blankets, saddle-bags, empty packs, lariats, and provisions upon her back, and started on foot, leaving Green, Howard, Schaffle and Fox in the mines.
Nothing particular occurred and we reached Scott’s ranch on the evening of the second day we had traveled very slow on account of our weakness. Part of their “caballada” having gone astray, we were detained here two days hunting our mules. We mounted two of the best animals, which had improved considerably, and set out from the ranch in the afternoon; our course north, over a high, barren plain. We had no road, and when night set in the heavens clouded over and a slight sprinkle of rain fell. This was on the 11lth of October, and the first rain of the season. We managed to keep our course in the darkness until we reached the Towalume river. We groped our way down the bluff and encamped on the flat, i. e. lay down in the rain, beneath a large tree, where the big drops pelted us all night. The Towalume river resembles the Marcaides in many particulars: perhaps more timber growing on the flat. We descended the stream several miles, found a crossing, and continued down the north side. Passed an Indian “rancheria,” where they had constructed a very ingenious fish trap, upon which they depend for subsistence, until the acorns ripen and grasshoppers grow fat. The wild Indians of California are the most miserable looking, indolent and degraded portion of that race of people I have seen since leaving the frontiers of the States. We stopped about noon at a tent, a few miles from the south of the river, to graze our animals. Here we saw Mr. Armstrong’s mule, saddle, etc. Upon inquiry we learned that he had lain sick here for several days, sold his mule, etc., and proceeded on foot for Stockton this morning. We were apprehensive at first that something of a still more serious nature had happened him. Struck out in a N. W. course for the Stanislaus river, over another high, dry, barren plain. Reached the lower ferry about dusk, where we forded the stream. Could get nothing to eat, and being out of provisions, we applied to a ferryman a most forbidding looking Irishman, who immediately shared his scanty meal with us. We offered to pay him, but he refused to take anything, saying that we should do likewise at the first opportunity, etc. We took the advice and had another proof that appearances often deceive. We traveled down the river some miles after dark, in search of grass. About 9 o’clock we spied a light, and on coming up to it, found a number of Spaniards encamped, and turned in with them.
In the morning we again struck out across the plain, and about 3 o’clock p. m. reached the lower ferry on the San Joaquin river. This ferry is owned by three young men, Bonsall, Doak and Scott, and is a very valuable property. Mr. Bonsall, who left Clearfield Co., Pa., when a boy, and has since worked in the lead mines of Mo., told me the other day, that he had been offered $10,000 to drop his interest in the concern, and “take his bones out of the country.” Here we intersected the main land route between San Francisco, San Jose and Stockton, or in other words, between the northern and southern portions of California, and divided by the bay of San Francisco. After taking dinner, we ferried over, at $1 each for man and mule. Stopped at McCaffrey’s Tent, or the “Elkhorn Inn of the San Joaquin,” as he was pleased to call it, (San Hwa-keen, J always having the sound of H in the “Lingua Espanol.”) In the morning
after breakfasting upon salt pork, sea biscuit, and coffee, for which we paid $1.50 each, we again packed our mules and pursued our way. The road was very fine, over a level plain, to the mountains on the west of the valley, and appeared lined with travel. The distance across this range of bald mountains is about 8 miles. The ascent and descent very gradual, except the dividing ridge, which is somewhat abrupt. Nooned at a spring on the mountains, and reached Livermore’s ranch in the evening. Mr. Livermore was formerly an English sailor, and has resided in the country some 30 years. He has a Spanish wife, and his “cassa” and everything about him look California like. We lay down upon the ground floor to sleep, but couldn’t. In the morning we learned that it was “only the fleas” that annoyed us. This country is actually pulluted with fleas, body lice, bed bugs, ticks and other vermin. It is a current joke, that previous to the war, the “coatis [coyotes] and fleas held possession of the country.”
After leaving Livermore’s ranch we crossed a plain two leagues in width, on which thousands of cattle were grazing, and then entered a range of hills, covered with wild oats. The place is known as “Amador’s Pass” and was the handsomest spot we had seen in California. A small stream of clear, cold water flows E. in the direction of the road, along which are several flats and groves of large California oaks. Passed Senol’s ranch, crossed a high range of hills and descended into the Mission of San Jose. This, like all the California missions, is partly in ruins. We purchased some fruit of the old Frenchman in charge of the orchard and vineyard, and pursued our way towards Pueblo, which we reached about sundown. Put up at the U. S. hotel and slept in a haystack, $2 for a bed being more than we could afford. This place is handsomely situated in the centre of the valley. The majority of the inhabitants are Spaniards, Chilians, Sonorians, etc., but Americans are fast settling here, and during this season a great many buildings have been put up. It has been decided upon as the seat of government. Here we were first reminded of the “land we hailed from,” by neat frame houses, well furnished, tables set a la mode, pleasure carriages, women dressed in silks, men in broadcloths, etc.
Three miles from Pueblo we passed through Santa Clara. This mission is beautifully located, the land around is fertile, and as there are no Spanish claims upon it, a great many Americans are “squatting” here, expecting the lands to become government property. We had dinner at Mr. Wistman’s, and here, for the first time since leaving home, sat down to a meal prepared by the hands of American females. Mr. Wistman came to the country in ’46, settled here, and now owns a fine, well stocked ranch. Wealth and prosperity has grown up about him. Lodged at the “Old Missions,” a large, lone adobe building, in which a New Yorker has taken quarters and opened a house of entertainment. Whether this ever was a mission, or only goes by that name, I have never learned. It is situated 20 miles from San Francisco. Passed Jose Sanchez’s ranch, after which the country became more barren in appearance.
On ascending the hill bordering on the bay we had a fine view of the Golden Gate, through which the tide was ebbing, with a noise resembling thunder. We could see the Pacific ocean in the distance raising up mountain like, and bounding the horizon on the west. The “Mission Dolores” lay in our way, situated 3 miles from San Francisco. The lands around this mission are also being fast taken up by American settlers. Shortly afterwards we entered the chapperel [chaparal’] and sand hills. The sand is very deep, and a team can do little more than draw an empty wagon through it. On reaching the summit of the last sand hill the City of San Francisco, bay, harbor, and shipping burst upon our view. The appearance and magnitude of the place far exceed the most liberal ideas we had formed of it. We were almost lost in wonder as we urged our wearied mules through the crowd in one of the principal streets and gazed upon the large and even elegant buildings, the display of signs and merchandise, and the moving mass of human beings of every caste and tongue. We were almost deafened with the hum of business, the noise of the saw and hammer, rattling of cart wheels, and the jingle of money in the exchange offices and gambling houses. We kept along through several of the streets, gazing at everything that attracted our attention “with eyes and mouth open,” not forgetting that we should look up a stopping place, and that we were “out” in the garb of mountaineers. We put up at a hotel; boarding $14 per week, mule feed the same price. Our first business was to go to the postoffice and “get our news.” The answer, “Nothing for you, sir,” took us all aback. Could it be possible that our friends, after making so many promises, had neglected or forgotten us? It was a cruel disappointment. We afterwards learned that no mails had been received from the States for several months.
In strolling around town we observed a striped pole. This was something to my mind, for I had neither shaved nor trimmed my beard since leaving the Mississippi. The fee was a dollar, and well earned, for razor after razor was laid aside no doubt but some sands of the Gila remained in it.
CHAPTER XXIII
On our way down we had concluded to stop at Pueblo and get into some business, and after remaining in San Francisco three or four days we returned to Pueblo San Jose. Here we were advised by several Americans to commence butchering. We soon found that we could not talk enough Spanish to purchase cattle, and gave up the idea. The Spanish know but little about the honors and laws of trade. If they were in need of money they will sell their property for a trifling sum to get it; but if a person wishes
to purchase of them, and they do not want for money, no price will buy it.
We made up our minds to return to the diggings and make the most of it during the winter. Nothing particular occurred until we reached the mines, except after crossing the San Joaquin, rain commenced falling and continued at intervals for a number of days. Our clothes and blankets were kept constantly wet, in which we had to sleep; but by this time we were well and were very much recruited. We were also lost between the Towalume and Mercaides rivers, which is a very common occurrence on these plains. The trails through the mountains were so much softened by the rain that our mules frequently sank to their bellies. When we reached the diggings we found that Fremont’s gulch was drowned out, and the miners were leaving for Agua Frio, the dry diggings several miles distant. Things presented a most squalid appearance. We were perfectly disgusted with the mines, and determined to pack up our traps and move down country, where we could encamp during the rainy season. During our absence Green and Howard had left the mines and gone to Stockton, taking Franklin with them. Fred and Fox were left, and they had not been able to make their board. While on our way down we lived upon salmon, an excellent fish, which is so abundant in the Mercaides, Towalume and Stanislaus rivers that we killed them with clubs and stones, when ascending the shoals.
Fox found employment at Bonsai’s ferry. John, Fred and myself came on down and encamped at the forks of the Stockton and Benecia roads, in Amador’s Pass. Two of us went down to Pueblo and invested our remaining funds (about $200) in a tent and provisions, which we packed up upon our mules. We put up a pole frame, over which we stretched our canvas. The public, thinking that we were “in the business,” began to call for meals, provisions, lodging, etc., and thinking it as well to be employed as idle, we killed a beef, put the kettle on the fire, and dealt out meat, hard bread, sugar, flour, etc. Ten days afterwards I started to San Francisco to purchase supplies with six hundred dollars in my pocket. There I found Green and Howard. They had clubbed together with Jesse Thomas and a Mr. Jacobs, of Huntingdon Co., Pa., and were keeping bachelor’s hall, in a small room for which they paid $75 per month rent. Major Green had been very unwell, but was recovering from the typhoid fever. Dr. Winston was attending him. I also met Maj. Beck, Jas. Duncan, Jno. Hayes, Mr. Kelly and Mr. Smith, of the Lewistown company. They started from home after us, and had a pleasant trip through Mexico, and arrived at San Francisco early in July. They had all been to the diggings and were more or less successful. It was really gratifying to meet so many persons from the neighborhood of home.
There had been a great change in the place since I had been there before a period of six weeks. A great number of buildings had been put up, and large blocks of houses covered what were then vacant lots. The town was “full of people,” half of the buildings being occupied as boarding and gambling houses. Board was from $20 to $40 per week; rents exhorbitantly high; business of all kinds brisk, and merchandise commanded good prices. The gambling houses were thronged, and as these were the only place of resort, many persons entirely averse of gambling were induced to patronize the “banks.” Money on loan was worth from 10 to 15 per cent, a month. Lots that were purchased two years ago for $16, sold for $40,000 ; timber commands $400 per M. feet, etc.
I made an arrangement for the goods we had shipped from Philadelphia, and redeemed them. The extreme, storage, etc., were trade of the northern mining region. During the rainy season, Sacramento was overflowed, and great deal of property destroyed. The rise in the river, from the melting snow, has again deluged the place, in defiance of their efforts to keep out by embankments.
The founding of these towns has been so successful, and profitable to the projectors, that a great many “would like to be” speculators have laid out cities in various parts of the country, on mining streams and the principal rivers, advertise their many advantages, as to location, etc., make “sham sales,” and use every effort to induce the “green ‘uns” to take the bait. I could enumerate perhaps fifty that have been laid out within the last year, and lots for sale the majority of which, will never pay the expenses of surveying.
Three-fourths of the people in the country say, “that if we can get what gold we want, we will play quits with California.” They do not care about investing their money in uncertain real estate. The majority of persons that emigrated to the country in the year ’46 and prior to that, have settled upon lands in various parts of the country, and having the advantage of the first opening of the mines, are now wealthy, almost without an effort. I have been amused at several of these “old settlers,” as they are called, talking about going to the States to “see the country,” and if they “like it” they “will move.” Within the last [. . .] three or four greater than the first cost. I shipped them on a launch to the Mission Embarkadero, 40 miles distant, and six hours sail, for $2.00 per cwt. The distance from the anchor ground to the beach, is a serious drawback upon the port of San Francisco. A great many goods shipped, did not pay for getting them ashore. One ship master, bought up a lot of mess beef, as the cheapest article he could get for ballast. Another who had brought out a lot of coal as ballast, retained it, although it was worth $50 per ton. The beach is the form of a crescent. The town is handsomely situated, but there is little room to extend it, unless they build upon the sand hills in the rear of the place. Water lots sold at an enormous price, on which large mercantile houses are built, upon piles. The buildings are generally of very flimsy structure. While I was there, a fire broke out, and laid a square in ruins. Before it had done burning, contracts were made for new buildings, and the lumber drawing upon the ground. In less than a fortnight, many of them were completed, and gambling and other business resumed as though nothing had happened. Three weeks ago, another more disastrous fire visited the place; almost half of the city was burned. It is already rebuilt, and the marks of the fire can scarcely be seen. This shows a spirit of energy and perseverance on the part of her citizens, scarcely if ever equalled.
When I was about to leave the place, Maj. Green had a severe attack of the diarrhoea (a prevailing and frequently fatal disease in this country) which, in his already weak condition, soon made him one of its victims. California may do to stay, or even to live in, but when death calls upon the wanderer, separated by thousands of miles from his family and friends, it is a hard country to die in. It was with feelings of indescribable sorrow, that I followed the body of my friend to the grave. His remains and those of James Banks, Esq., of Lewistown, Pa., rest side by side in the Russian burying ground.
CHAPTER XXIV
Some weeks ago, business obliged me to go to Stockton. That place was situated on a level plain, and borders on a lagoon, which connects with the Bay of Francisco. The place was then almost sunk in mud, but during the dry seasons is very pleasant. The majority of the houses were canvass, but a large number of good buildings had already gone up. Vessels of a large size, can ascend the slue, and discharge freight with ease and little expense. Since the business season has opened, real estate has risen in value, and many buildings are being erected. It is the emporium of trade for the southern and part of the middle mines.
I have never as yet been as far north as Sacramento City. It is said to be the largest town in California, and concentrates the years, the great changes that have taken place in the country, the excitement of business, the abundance of money, etc., are so very different to everything experienced in the States, that persons would find it difficult to content themselves where time rolls on without any sensible changes, in the order of things, more especially if they had left indigent homes, and have enjoyed independence and affluence here.
The markets of this country, are very fluctuating. The supplies from the States and foreign countries are irregular, and the price of an article depends entirely upon the quantity in market, or the ability of speculators to monopolize. Three months ago lumber was worth $400 per M. feet by the cargo, it can now be bought for $40. Flour was then worth $40 per bbl. now $8 to $10. At the same time sugar and coffee were selling at 10 to 12 cts. per Ib.; now it is scarce at 40 cts. All the scythes and snaths in market could have been purchased for $10, at that time; a few days ago we were in San Francisco, and wished to buy one, (a scythe and snath,) the merchant asked $60 for it; we offered him $50; in the mean time, another person in search of the same article, stepped in and inquired the price of it; $70 was asked, the price paid, and he walked off with his bargain. The best flour in market, and that which commands the highest price, is brought from Chili, S. A. Fruit, vegetables, sugar, etc., from the Sandwich Islands; lumber, fish, butter and some vegetables from Oregon; silks, teas, fancy articles and drygoods of various kinds from China. Three-fourths of all the merchandise consumed here, is received from the United States, England and France. This includes lumber, breadstuffs, meats, liquors, and other groceries, heavy dry-goods, clothing, hardware, etc., etc. The products of all countries in the world can be had, and representatives from the same be seen, in California.
It is amusing to notice the change in occupations and mode of living experienced by persons coming to this country. Men of all professions, trades and employments, become merchants, gamblers, farmers, watermen, teamsters, day laborers, etc., and as a first and last resort, the mines. A physician works in the diggings because he finds it more profitable than his profession: a lawyer runs a launch on the bay; a preacher keeps hotel, or a farmer “deals monte,” all for the same reason. While in San Francisco last winter I saw a man of perhaps fifty years of age engaged in patching the leaking roof and mending the sidewalk of the boarding house at which I stopped. I saw he drank a great deal, but was talkative and intelligent. Upon getting into conversation with him I found that he was a lawyer of Pennsylvania, where he had been a successful practitioner for many years, and had been employed as counsel in several important cases, in connection with Hon. Ellis Lewis.
The amount of water crafts upon San Francisco bay, and the rivers, is almost incredible. Thousands of boats and launches are in the trade, and ascend some of the rivers to the mines. About twenty-five steam boats are now plying between the various points of commerce, carrying passengers and freight. It is said that the boat “Senator” cleared as high as $30,000 per trip. She runs between San Francisco and Sacramento city, and goes through and back within two days.
Those portions of California adapted to agriculture are generally covered with Spanish claims, which if acknowledged valid by the American Government will for a while prove a hindrance to the settlement and prosperity of the country. But Spanish ignorance, indolence, and jealousy cannot hold out long against the ingenuity and enterprise of the Yankees, many of whom have already contrived to “get into the affections”^ of the “Dons.” Taxes upon their 100 square miles, and American gamblers, (who won’t play a “fair game”) into their ourse and herds of cattle will soon have the desired effect. Then instead of these vermin-beset, adobe casas, see a country dotted over with neat, comfortable farm houses, gardens, fruit trees, and cultivated fields. But all these things will depend entirely upon two things whether the soil will produce without irrigation, and the continuance and yield of the gold mines; for California must depend upon a home market for her products. The latter, time will tell; the former will be known soon, for there are a number of persons engaged in farming. The soil produces without [irrigating] water, but whether in quantity or quality sufficient to warrant cultivation is not known. Should California become one of the United States, the wealth of the mines continue, and the earth yield abundantly, nothing will be wanting to make her the most populous, wealthy, and ‘flourishing State in the Union in a few years.
A national railroad from the Mississippi river to the Pacific ocean would certainly be of great advantage to the country, and more closely connect the interests of her extended territory, if the great work could be accomplished. I see that it is a subject much agitated in the States and many persons there believe we will soon see locomotives and trains of cars ” ‘hopping’ the rivers and ‘skipping’ over the plains and ‘jumping’ the Sierra Nevada mountains.” It will do to talk in that way, but from what little knowledge I have of the country I would be willing to wager all I expect to make in California that the undertaking will not be completed, if begun, within the nineteenth century. And if the opinions of men who have traveled every known overland route are of any weight, not one out of a hundred that I have heard will admit that it is at all practicable. The broad plains and deserts, the deep arroyos, the wide, sandy beds of rivers, the many mountains, the most formidable of which is the Sierra Nevada, whose summit towers above the regions of perpetual snow, the scarcity of material for constructing it, and the distance, are obstacles, which, in my opinion, render even the idea absurd.
I have “spun my yarn” to the foot of the last page, and I now “knock off” with pleasure, lay the pen and writing desk (the bottom of an empty wine case) aside, and resume the hoe handle, which implement I can wield with better grace and effect.
(THE END)
Hello! Chamberlin’s Journal was also published in the Lewisburgh Saturday News, Aug 9, 1902-Jan 17, 1903, and in the New Mexico Historical Review vol 20 #1 (Jan 1945). The Saturday News series resulted in some letters to the editor from folks who recalled the party leaving Lewisburg in Feb 1849. I’m writing a new history of Lewisburg and thus have read all the newspapers through 1987.