Beckwith report of the Pacific Railroad Surveys, 1854

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EXPLORATIONS AND SURVEYS FOR A RAILROAD ROUTE FROM THE MISSISSIPPI RIVER TO THE PACIFIC OCEAN. WAR DEPARTMENT. REPORT OF EXPLORATIONS FOR A ROUTE FOR THE PACIFIC RAILROAD, ON THE LINE OF THE FORTY-FIRST PARALLEL OF NORTH LATITUDE.

SIR: Explorations were resumed on the 4th of April, 1854, for a route for the Pacific railroad under my direction, by the surviving portion of Captain Gunnison's party, (which had wintered at Great Salt Lake City,) under the original instructions given to that officer to explore the most available passes and canones of the Wahsatch range, and cross the Weber and Bear rivers to the coal basin of Green river, and thence proceed to Fort Laramie. Leaving the city, we proceeded north along the shore of the lake, passing through the Mormon settlements and farms, which occupy the most fertile and best watered sections of the narrow belt of land lying between the shore and the base of the mountains. Spring was already considerably advanced in the valley; fresh grass and plants were springing up on its sunny slopes; farmers were busy in ploughing and sowing their fields, and the snow had disappeared to such an extent on the sides of the mountains, that it was deemed practicable for our animals to subsist upon the dry grass of the previous year's growth. The winter of 1853-'54 at Great Salt lake, from the middle of November to the 20th of January, was delightfully mild and open, and the fall of snow, which was light in the mountains, seldom extended into the valleys; but after the latter date the climate became much more severe, the temperature falling during the colder part of the day, for several successive days, below zero of Fahrenheit's thermometer, and storms became more frequent-snow falling in the plain to the depth of six or eight inches without drifts, while in the mountain plains and passes it exceeded a foot, and accumulated to great depths in the narrow ravines, and on the high slopes of the mountains, least exposed to the winds. In the vicinity of the city of the Great Salt Lake timber is confined almost exclusively to these ravines, which are difficult of

access at all times, and become entirely inaccessible during the prevalence of deep snows, producing at once great scarcity of fuel in that city. The passage of the uninhabited mountain to the east, at such times, by the ordinary road leading over it, which, of course, is not kept open, is entirely impracticable; and the mail which passes monthly to and from Independence, Mo., is carried on pack-mules, which subsist themselves almost entirely on the grass along the route, by way of the Weber river canon-the object in part of our present explorations, which will, however, be continued eastward to the valley of Green river.* April 5.-On the afternoon of the fifth of April we reached the mouth of this canon at the immediate base of the Wahsatch mountains, where it opens into the valley of Great Salt lake, thirty miles north of the city, and about seventeen from the mouth of the river, which we immediately crossed to its right bank. This river at this season of the year (not yet swollen by the melting snows of the mountains) is thirty yards wide, by from one to three feet in depth, flowing with a rapid, powerful current over a bed of water-worn stones and fallen rocks of all sizes, from pebbles to immense blocks of the adjacent mountain. Our altitude at this point was 73 feet above the city of Great Salt Lake, and 4,424 feet above the sea. Entering the pass, we at once left the usual low-water trail, which frequently crosses the river, and followed a precipitous and rocky path leading over the retreating craggy sides of the canon, so steep that a single mis-step would have precipitated both mule and rider into the foaming torrent, hundreds of feet below us. At some points the precipitous sides of this passage become almost vertical. The mountains rise, we judged, from 1,500 to 2,500 feet above the river, and are separated at the base by a passage averaging 175 yards in width, in which the river winds from side to side, frequently impinging against the bases of the mountains. At one point only, near the upper end of the gorge, which is four miles in length, the river is narrowed to one half its usual width, having cut a passage 20 or 30 feet ill depth through the solid rock, which on the north side overhangs the stream, which, by a low projecting mass, is deflected from its course for a few yards at nearly a right angle, but again almost immediately resumes its direction; the canon, as it is called-and at some points it well deserves the name-being remarkably direct in its general course. Above this gorge the mountain opens rapidly to the right and left,

forming an immense oblong amphitheatre, the summits of the mountain peaks on opposite sides being separated by from 10 to 15 miles, while the river bottom, which is a plain, varies in width from half a mile to three miles. This is the finest grazing district we have seen in Utah, the bottom being covered with luxuriant grass which extends well up the mountain sides, to where they are at present covered with snow. The stream is skirted with poplar or cotton-wood trees and willow-bushes, and limited amounts of cedar, fir, and pine adorn the ravines and mountain sides, but are difficult of access. We encamped, after a march of 27 miles, at the junction of Ben Simons' creek with the Weber, where we found our Delaware guide, (after whom the creek is named,) with his brother and their respective squaws and little Indians encamped, with a small band of horses and herd of cows grazing near their lodges. These cattle appear in fine condition, having subsisted here through the entire winter by grazing alone. A much larger herd of cattle, on their way to the California market, which had been grazed in the vicinity of Fort Bridger during the early part of the winter, were subsequently driven here, where they remained for several weeks, having left but a day or two previous to our arrival. A considerable trade is carried on in cattle in and near the valley of Great Salt lake; its main profit arising from the exchange of cattle in good condition for those of emigrants broken down on their arrival here, compelling an exchange or a ruinous delay in their journey to California. The stock obtained by this traffic is turned out to graze during the winter; and although a few of the weakest and most emaciated die of cold, the great body of them come out in fine condition in the spring, and are sent forward to the California market, or form a new stock in trade for the ensuing season. Our average ascent from the mouth of the canon to camp, 7.80 miles, has been 53.50 feet per mile. The rocks in the gorge partake largely of the character of gneiss; but in descending the river with a railroad, no unusual difficulty would be encountered at this point, as the walls of the pass are sufficiently retreating to admit of its being carried at a suitable height above the stream to escape the danger of floods, and extensive blasting of rocks would be required only at a few points. Snows have formed no obstruction to its passage at any time during the past winter, nor, so far as I have been able to learn after much inquiry, do they at any time. In the valley, at our guide's camp, its greatest depth during the last winter was twelve inches, but seldom exceeded four, and for much of the winter was quite as free of it as the main valley of Salt lake. Our guide thinks a much more favorable emigrant road could be opened through this pass, ascending Ben Simons' creek to the vicinity of Green river, than that now followed over the mountains, which is still impassable from snow. April 6.-We traversed the amphitheatre described yesterday, following the bottom lands along the Weber river to the foot of the second mountain and gorge of this stream, our ascent being 28.50 feet per mile for 12.20 miles, to Sheep Rock. The sides of this gorge are less precipitous than those of the lower, and the bottom or passage in which the river winds is frequently much wider, while the mountains are of nearly the same altitudes with those, but much more broken by ravines. The bottom, too, is less firm, being frequently miry, and numerous small channels into which the river is divided are dammed by beaver-green trees of six inches in diameter having just been cut down by these animals for their dammning purposes–making part of it a swamp, miles of which are covered with thick willows, where the soil is too soft for a good wagon road without carrying it on an artificial bed, which can be easily made along the base of the mountains. The river winds so much that we were forced to cross it sixteen times, the water being icy cold. We encamped on Dry creek, which enters the river at the head of the gorge, eight and a half miles from Sheep Rock, from which we ascended 27 feet to the mile. In constructing a railroad through this defile, it will be necessary to bridge the stream several times, which can be readily done; but for the most part the road would be carried immediately at the base of the mountains, where it can be constructed with facility by cutting along their sides and filling in at their bases. These bases are formed of earth and loose stones overlying strata of shale, limestone, conglomerate, and argillaceous sandstone, dipping at every

angle, and in almost all eastern directions from south to north; and in a few instances strata bent (before induration) were seen; and in one, vertical, parallel, walled dikes intersect the northern slope of a mountain near the head of the passage, extending from the water's edge to near the summit of the mountain, only separated by about ten feet, and rising thirty feet above the mountain slope. April 7.–A cold rain, which continued to fall throughout the night, poured down upon us as we wrapped ourselves in our blankets last evening; and as we were without tents or other protection from the weather, but little sleep refreshed the party; and at 9 o'clock this morning the rain changed to snow, (which had been falling all night on the high peaks in the mountains,) and continued to fall heavily throughout the day, melting as it reached the ground. Above the junction of Dry creek with the Weber river, the latter comes from the south, cutting through a red conglomerate sandstone mountain six or eight hundred feet high, which is rapidly disintegrating, the talus at some points being entirely swept away by the river, and at all others it stands at too steep an angle towards the water to be easily climbed over. The Indian trail, however, passes through this canon at low water, a part of the way in the stream. It is five hundred yards long. We rode to its upper end and clambered in to examine it. The trail by which we passed ascends Dry creek half a mile, and then passes without difficulty to its head, by a low pass in the ridge through which the canon itself is cut. This is the proper site, also, for a railroad. Above this. canon a considerable valley extends south to the Kamas prairie. This valley varies in width from three or four miles to a few hundred yards, and is drained by the Weber river, having on its margins considerable bottom lands, which at this season of the year are quite wet, and in many parts are covered by cotton-wood trees and willow-bushes. Ascending this valley we came to the emigrant road leading from the South Pass to Great Salt lake, which we followed to the mouth of Echo canon, where we left it and continued up the river to the mouth of White Clay creek (Moran's fork.) The mountains on the left of the valley, as we ascended it, are conglomerate sandstone, full of cavities numerously inhabited by ravens. The snow was falling so fast that we were unable to see a hundred yards, and were obliged to dismount and wait for it to diminish; when we again remounted, and, turning east, left the Weber river to ascend White Clay creek and pass over to Bear and Green rivers. The valley of our path after leaving the Weber was from one-half to three-fourths of a mile in width, finely covered with dry and green grass, the hills being covered with a stunted growth of cedar, and cotton-wood and willows line the stream, which has upon it little or no bottom land. The storm ceased as we encamped, having travelled but 10.50 miles, with an average ascent of 16.50 feet per mile. April 8.-A piercing cold wind sprang up during last night, the thermometer falling to 270, and continued all day blowing from E.N.E. directly in our faces as we ascended White Clay creek, which is one foot in depth and five in width, with a free rapid current. Its narrow bottom is from one to two hundred yards in width, with low spurs of hills occasionally extending to the stream. It is lined with cotton-wood and willows in the lower part of its course, but is quite destitute of timber higher up, while scattered cedars are seen on the nearest hills, and pine, fir, and aspen fill the ravines of the mountains, the highest peaks of which are 14 miles south of us on the northern bank of Weber river, whence it descends from the east to Kamas prairie. Numerous tracks of grizzly bears and porcupines were seen in the snow, beaver dams and lodges in the creek bottoms, and a fine silver-gray fox watched our progress for some time from a high hill, safely beyond gun-shot. Fourteen miles out we came into continuous fields of snow, six inches ill depth, except on the southern exposures, where it had almost entirely disappeared. Its surface was hard and stiff, though not strong enough to bear either men or animals, and as we broke through at every step, our progress was tedious and fatiguing; and these were greatly increased whenever we had to pass slight inequalities in the ground filled with snow, and the narrow drifts always accumulated on the northeastern declivities of the hills – our mules literally rolling, pitching, tumbling, and floundering through. Thermometer at

noon 38°. For the benefit of our animals, we ascended the side of a hill, where the snow had disappeared, on a branch of White Clay creek coming in from the southeast, and encamped just before sundown on a soft, muddy soil, sprinkled with dry grass. The Uinta mountains, whose general course is apparently nearly due east and west, have been plainly in sight for the last two days, some 25 miles south of our path, with numerous high peaks covered with vast fields of snow from the lowest points visible on them to their summits, the sources of tbe Uinta, Timpanogos, Weber, and Bear rivers, and of Black's fork, and numerous smaller streams. From the northern foot of this range to our path, a level, timbered terrace country extends, called, in the Sho-sho-nee or Snake language, Yaw-ning-got-it, or Porcupine terrace; from the west it extends from the sources of the White Clay creek, (To-sho-sho-coop, in the Snake tongue,) across Bear river, the Muddy and Black's fork, broken only by a few low detached hills and the ravines of the water-courses. Its timber, pine and fir, is abundant, and of a suitable size for bridges and building purposes. For the first ten miles this morning our ascent averaged 84.20 feet per mile, and 54.20 feet per mile for the following 8.75 miles, to the junction of the branch on which we encamped, with White Clay creek. April 9. A bright clear morning; thermometer at daylight 21° below the freezing-point. We returned to White Clay creek, striking it near its head, by passing over the hill on which we had encamped, a distance of 11.50 miles, by the windings of that stream, from the junction of the branch where we left it to encamp, which we examined in repassing this point on our return trip on the 18th instant. This creek preserves its open character, with easy, gentle curves, to its' source, the grade averaging 41.80 feet per mile, and the country becoming more level and open as we ascend. We were here upon the divide between the waters of Weber and Bear rivers, immediately overlooking the latter stream a mile and a half distant and but a few feet below us, our altitude being 7,491 feet above the sea. We immediately descended to the first channel of Bear river, which is forty feet wide and one deep, with a firm bed, crossed without difficulty to a large level plain, four or five miles wide by ten or twelve in length, extending southward to the foot of Porcupine terrace, through which the river winds in a narrow ravine. The snow upon this plain was from six to ten inches in depth-hard and stiff, but not sufficiently so to bear our animals-with pools of water and soft ground beneath it, affording no firm footing, and our progress was consequently very laborious. The sun was very bright, and its powerful reflection from the snow very severe upon our eyes. Three miles from the first we crossed the second channel of Bear river, a small stream four feet wide, beyond which we rose a bluff 12 or 15 feet high, to a second plain extending to our camp on Sulphur creek, which descends in a small ravine from the terrace above. Altitude, 7,494 feet. /April 10.-A light snow begun to fall during last night, and continued all day, with a high, driving wind, which rendered our progress very disagreeable; and nearly one half the officers and men of the party were so snow-blind as to be unable to see beyond a few feet, and suffered intense pain from their inflamed eyes, the lids of which were swollen to a dropsical appearance, while their faces were quite as badly inflamed, skinned, and intensely sore. We' crossed a small stream running into Bear river, four miles from our morning camp, and afterwards three small branches, which unite and form the Little Muddy, and encamped on the main: creek of that name, after a march of only 11.20 miles. Our altitude on the divide, between Bear river and the Muddy, an affluent of Black's fork, which flows into Green river, and consequently upon what is called the eastern rim of the Great Basin, was 8,133 feet, and at our camp this evening 7,779 feet above the sea. We encountered but little snow on the high surfaces and western slopes of the hills to-day, but invariably found large drifts just below the crests of the northeastern slopes, occasionally so compact as to bear our animals, but generally giving way under their-feet. April 11.-Thermometer at 5 a. m., 26°. Soon after leaving camp we crossed a small branch

of the Muddy, and then ascended the ridge setting down from the Porcupine terrace, and nearly on a level with it, between the Muddy and Black's fork. This ridge preserves its elevation for several miles to the north, and then subsides abruptly into the valley of the fork. Upon this divide we encountered much more snow than upon any other part of the route, for the warmth of the season was not yet sufficient to affect it at all; and its average depth was from twelve to sixteen inches, while the drifts were broader and deeper than we had before encountered, varying from fifty and a hundred yards to a fourth of a mile in width. These banks, as before stated, are always found just below the northeastern crests of hills and ridges, and can only be avoided by passing either above or below them. The view from this position is very extensive. Overlooking the immense valley of Green river, which sweeps off to the east, apparently in an almost uninterrupted plain, the Sweet Water mountains near the South Pass, with the positions of the Muddy and Bitter creeks descending from them, are plainly in sight; and to the south the sources of Black's, Smith's, and Henry's forks, in the Uinta mountains. From the head of White Clay creek, eastward for 19 miles, a railroad should be carried on a gentle curve to the southward, (as indicated on the accompanying map) along the Porcupine terrace before described, crossing Bear river and the main branches of Muddy and Sulphur creeks, where they are narrow ravines, offering no serious obstacles in themselves to its easy construction; thus avoiding any but a local descent in the passage of these streams, and turning all the smaller ravines and branches which must otherwise be crossed below. The ascending grade upon this line will be 49.8 feet per mile for 12.90 miles, and 39.50 feet per mile for 6.10 miles; and the altitude of the point thus gained-the highest upon the hue 8,373 feet above the sea. And in descending from this point, the road should follow the ridge or divide west of the main branch of Black's fork by a uniform grade, to which there is no obstruction, of 40.30 feet per mile for 12.25 miles, to the main open valley of the fork, to which we descended at 10'clock a. m. The level valley of this stream is here three miles in width, with pine, white cedar, and aspen growing upon the stream, and extending to and uniting with that on the base of the Uinta mountains. We found considerable grass in this valley, and mud in place of snow. The stream in the present low stage of the water, the snow not having commenced to melt in the high mountains, is but 12 feet wide and eight inches deep, flowing rapidly over a bed of stones. In crossing its bottom we rode for some distance on the remains of a beaver dam, precisely resembling a small embankment 18 inches high, thrown up in making a common ditch. It is several hundred yards long. Travelling partly parallel to the stream, we crossed over to Smith's fork, which is separated from Black's only by a plain common to them both, passing near a settlement called Fort Supply, commenced on Smith's fork last autumn. It consists of only a half dozen log-houses, and although the margins of the stream are finely grassed-upon which considerable herds of cattle have been successfully grazed during the past winter, with no other food or shelter than they could themselves procure-it must be regarded as a doubtful experiment, until experience shall have established the practicability, in this latitude upon our continent, of producing crops during the cold summers, and grazing cattle during the severe winters, incident to so great an elevation-7,254 feet, that of our camp on the stream, two or three miles below the fort. Our descent from where we came upon Black's fork to camp, nine miles, was 69.50 feet per mile. We were here in the immediate vicinity of Fort Bridger, the position of which a few miles to the north, on Black's fork of Green river, was plainly in sight across the open plain. In descending from the head of the Muddy I have given the preference to the line indicated, over that which follows that stream, as it is entirely free from short curves; and the valley of Black's fork, above the junction of the Muddoy, is much more broad, open and direct than that of the latter stream. The line eastward from our present camp should be continued directly to where it should cross Green river, near the mouth of Black's fork, and be continued thence eastward by the line followed by Captain Stausbury from Green river, by way of Bridger's Pass, to the

Great Plains, in 1850, as reported by him in his expedition to the Great Salt lake, and thence descend by the South fork and main Platte, or pass over to the Republican fork of the Kansas, and descend it to connect at a suitable point with eastern lines of commerce. April 12.-It began to snow at dark last evening, and continued without intermission until late this afternoon. Several of the party were still suffering severely from snow-blindness, and many of our animals were becoming weak and exhausted for want of sufficient nourishment. I determined, therefore, to leave a portion of the party i camp on Smith's fork with the weakest animals, and to proceed with the balance to Henry's fork of Green river, a route represented to possess superior advantages to that before indicated for a railroad, to the east from Smith's fork. With Captain Morris, Mr. Egloffstein, and Mr. Snyder, and a small escort, and with our Delaware guide, I started -the snow being four inches deep as awe left camp, and falling so fast that we could not see beyond a few hundred yards, but fortunately the storm was in our backsbearing a little to the southeast to avoid the mud of the plains, which were very slippery and soft. We travelled over a succession of low hills, and crossed two or three small branches of Smith's fork, coming to Cottonwood creek at 1 o'clock, p. m., where our altitude varied but nine feet from our morning camp. We here came upon a wagon road leading from Fort Bridger to Henry's fork by a low pass in the small mountain spur dividing the waters of that stream and of Cottonwood creek. It is six miles from the creek to the summit of the pass, and the difference of level 266 feet. Entered from the north it is narrow and direct, and is formed of horizontal strata of clay, from six to fifty feet thick, often separated by thin strata of sandstone; and the clay itself in some parts is indurated to an a rillaceous stone containing considerable sand. It is washed into a thousand gullies and ravines, and its slopes are barren. The spur itself is level upon its summit, and preserved from washing by a capping of stone. Notwithstanding the storm, our guide related an incident which occurred to him a few years since in this pass, characteristic of the adventuresomeness of his own tribe, and of the war habits of his race. He was travelling this pass at midnight, accompanied by his squaw only, both mounted upon the same horse, and the night so dark that he could neither see the outlines of the hills nor the ground at his horse's feet, when he heard a sound, (which he imitated) so slight as scarcely to be perceptible to an Indian's ear, of an arrow carried in the hand striking once only with a slight tick against a bow. Stopping, he could hear nothing, but instantly dismounted, his squaw leaning down upon the horse that she might by no possibility be seen, and placed his ear to the ground, when he heard the same sound repeated, but a few feet distant, and was therefore satisfied that, however imminent the danger, he had not yet been heard or seen, for no Indian would make such a noise at night in approaching his foe; he therefore instantly arose and took his horse by the bridle close to his mouth, to lessen the chances of his moving or whinnying, and one hundred and seventy of his deadly enemies, the Sioux, on a war party, filed past him within arm's reach, while he remained unobserved. We encamped on Henry's fork after a ride of 23.50 miles, descending for 3.20 miles, from the summit of the pass, 122 feet to the mile. The valley of this stream is of the park-form, ten miles in diameter at our camp, with bottom lands from one to three miles in width, narrowing rapidly as it descends. The bottom is finely grassed, while the hills about it are barren or covered with artemisia; but the mountains to the south are quite covered with pine. The water of the stream flows in several channels through the meadow, which might be easily irrigated, and support a small settlement, if not too cold for cereals. April 13.-Leaving half of our omen in camp, we descended the valley, crossing several little streams, the largest of which is called Dry Timber creek, and seven miles below camp bore off to the right, and ascended a high point of the adjacent mountain to obtain an extensive view of Green river and of the surrounding country. The snow, scarcely two inches deep in the valley, soon increased to a foot and more, and our animals waded heavily through the deep

drifts and gullies. We were rewarded, however, for the labor of the ascent by the excellent view obtained. The valley of Henry's fork continues its uniform descent to its junction with Green river, fifteen miles distant, and immediately to the south of it two other small streams enter Green river from the west, separated by a pile of rocks called the Beaver Lodge, which is also the name of the northern stream; the southern being known as Medicine Spring creek by the Indians, and Blue by the trappers, from a fine spring somewhere near its source. Fifty miles distant the Uinta mountains were seen, terminated to the east by the passage of Green river, and through a large gap in an intervening range the pine-covered sides of Brown's Hole were distinctly visible. Above the mouth of Henry's fork stand two isolated buttes of the same altitude as the low range, to the' north of this stream, which we crossed yesterday, and of which they once formed a part. Green river descends from the north just to the east of these buttes. Beyond this river, to the north and east of Brown's Hole, high ranges of mountains, covered with snow, extend far to the east and to the south of the line indicated for the railroad from our camp on Smith's fork. So far as this proposed line can be seen from this point-which it can be far east of Green river-it appears very level. But the wind whistled cold and piercing about our heads, and, standing knee-deep in snow, we were soon chilled through, and, hastening our notes and observations to a close, descended in an hour and a half to Henry's fork, to a comparative summer climate –a change from 34° to 50°-the snow having entirely disappeared from the valley during our short absence. Notwithstanding the severe snow-storm yesterday, the party suffered quite as much from blindness as during a bright sunny day, my own face becoming somewhat inflamed for the first time, and'" Ring," a bulldog which accompanied us, became so much affected that he could not be induced, in camp, to open his eyes, from which tears were constantly falling. We returned at evening to our morning camp. April 14.-We repassed the divide by which we entered the valley of Henry's fork. From Cottonwood creek, we followed a line across the artemisia plains or mesas, a little to the north of that followed in our outward journey. The light and friable soil of these plains is now saturated with water, from melting snow, and is miry and slippery. They are terminated to the west by abrupt bluffs of clay, so steep and slippery, that, in descending them, we were obliged to dismount, and let our mules slide down as they best could-ten and twenty feet at a time. They decline rapidly to the north, and, apparently, soon entirely disappear in that direction. Grass is confined to the borders of the water-courses, the intermediate spurs being occupied by fields of artemisia. We encamped at evening on Smith's fork, a short distance below our camp of the 11th instant, and on the following morning (April 15) continued our western course, recrossing Black's fork and the ridge separating it from the Muddy, on which we encamped a little above the emigrant road to Great Salt lake. Although the valley of this stream is not so ward line at its crossing; but, as before stated, the line then indicated would probably be preferable. April 16.-The country over which we passed to-day is very elevated and dry, and the vegetation principally confined to artemisia. It overlooks our outward path to the south, which preserves its superior appearance even from this distance. We encamped on Bear river, about which the snow had nearly disappeared. The grass has not yet sprouted, however, for a new growth, and our animals fare badly on that which has been buried under the snow from last year, and is now soaked from its melting. April 17. -We returned to the head of White Clay creek this morning, and descended it, encamping two miles below its Beaver branch junction, when we again returned to fields of fresh grass. High up on the sheltered faces of a few bluff rocks, cropping out on the southern bank of the creek, as we descended it, large numbers of nests of clay, in clusters of pine-apple size and form, were seen, which our Delaware guide says are built by a dark-colored bug, which

is good to eat when boiled. I could obtain no specimens of them. The guide killed a fine elk near camp. April 18.-We attempted to-day to find a more direct route to the Kamas prairie and Timpanogos river than that by the mouth of White Clay creek and Weber river. In leaving camp, we ascended a narrow ridge, and again almost immediately descended its opposite slope, and crossed a small creek, beyond which, in ascending the succeeding hill, we entered upon a field of snow, two feet in depth, which was too soft to bear our animals, and was filled with brush and concealed fallen-timber, rendering its passage for a mile a severe labor; and several smaller fields were passed in crossing a broken country, until 11 o'clock, when we were rising a high ridge, and expected, at its summit, to find an end to our snowy labors, and to descend with comparative comfort to the prairie; but the snow had driven us off the summer trail, and, as we rose to the summit, we were greeted by the sight of another formidable ridge, everywhere presenting one immense field of snow apparently impassable, and the guide came to a stand-his last horse had failed. I however examined the country attentively, mounted the guide on a mule, and determined to go on, and in two hours, by severe labor, reached the succeeding summit; but, instead of seeing an end to our labors, and refreshing fields of grass 'at our feet for our exhausted stock, we saw before us only a precipitous descent of half a mile, followed by an ascent still steeper and higher than the former, which we accomplished, with increased labor, however, only to find before us an impassable field of snow, extending down the face of the mountain for several miles to Weber river. Our altitude was here 8,619 feet above the sea, and a magnificent view of the country in some degree rewarded the labor of the ascent. North, south, east, and west, the country presented only one extensive field of broken mountains. The opening made in the Wahsatch mountains by the Timpanogos canon, with a high intervening peak or two between us and Kamas prairie, looked favorable for our passage; the high, snowy range between us and Great Salt lake, as far north as Weber canon and Ogden Hole, was also before us, with those to the east crossed by the emigrant road. Above us, the Weber descends through an extensive mountain district, at present covered with impassable snows, and surmounted to the south by the higher and still more snowy peaks of the Uinta range. Pine covers the steep mountain sides south of the Weber. We encamped on this summit, and sent out the guide with a party on foot to find, if possible, a practicable descent; he returned at dark with an unfavorable report, however, unless the snow should freeze during the night strong enough to bear our animals, of which there is no prospect April 19.-It began to rain during the latter part of last night, and the mountain sides at daylight were sending down rivulets of snow-water from every point. We were, therefore, reluctantly obliged to turn back, following, through banks of snow for two miles, the course of a small branch of White Clay creek, lying between high, steep hills and spurs of mountains. Clay creek. At every step, after leaving the snow, in this rapid descent, we were passing fine fields of grass, extending from the ravines to the mountain tops. We had certainly been driven higher up the mountains in our attempt to esect this passage than would have been necessary but for the snow; but it is not too much to say that there is no practicable route for a wagonroad, and much less for a railroad, by this Indian trail from White Clay creek to Kamnas prairie, although it is the best in the vicinity, except that to which we returned. Soon after reaching White Clay creek, we passed our camp of the 7th instant, and again entered the valley of Weber river, in which we encamped, in the midst of luxuriant fields of fresh grass, 5.25 miles from the camp of the 7th. In descending the mountain to-day, we passed a few out-cropping ledges of conglomerate rocks and sandstone, but soil and earth covered almost the entire surface of the mountains

and ravines. The sun shone bright and clear during the afternoon, and dried our drenched clothes. The accompanying sections of the routes explored by the Weber and Timpanogos caniones, branch at our camp of the 7th instant on White Clay creek, the former descending the Weber, and the latter ascending it. April 20.-The wind, which had changed to northwest during the afternoon yesterday, returned to southwest last night, and the morning came in with a gentle cold rain, which increased during the day to heavy showers at short intervals. The width of the Weber valley, within the low hills, between our morning camp and Kamas prairie, varies from two or three miles to a few hundred yards; but we soon passed above the altitude of green grass, although the whole face of the country was covered with the growth of last year. It was 12 miles to Kamas prairie, which is five or six miles wide by eight and seven-tenths miles in length, and, to the eye, is as level as a sheet of water. The Weber river descends to it from the east, flows across its northern end, and thence descends to Great Salt lake, by our ascending path. A stream, ten or 12 feet wide, winds through the prairie, entering Weber river at the northwest angle of the meadow. It is seen descending from a mountain ravine on the east side of the plain, six miles distant. A mile to the south of this ravine is the divide between the Weber and Timpanogos rivers-if so slight a change of level deserves the name of divide-the latter flowing at the base of a snowy range of mountains terminating the prairie to the south. We attempted to ride directly across the prairie, but found it so miry that we were obliged to turn back and keep along the base of the hills to the west, reaching the Timpanogos where it leaves the prairie. The average grade from our camp of April 7, on White Clay creek, to our morning's camp, 5.25 miles, was 3.80 feet per mile; and 53.90 feet per mile for 12 miles thence to Kamas prairie; and across the prairie to Timpanogos river, 8.70 miles, 8.80 feet per mile the altitude of the prairie at Weber river being 6,319 feet above the sea. Below the prairie the Timpanogos river descends in a bottom varying from 100 to 250 yards in width, covered by cotton-wood. It is enclosed on the south by mountains, and on the north by high walls of a coarse feldspathic granite, from one to two hundred feet high. The stream is twenty-five feet wide, with a rapid current. This bottom is entirely free from snow, and sufficiently wide and elevated above the river to admit of an easy construction of a railroad. We encamped some two miles from the prairie and river, on its right bank, among the hills. April 21.-It continued to rain during the whole of last night, and this morning snow was mixed with the falling rain; but after being two or three hours on the road, we passed below the storm, which continued about the higher mountain peaks throughout the day. We returned to the Timpanogos river at the lowest point on it visible to us from Kamas prairie last evening, its valley being here half a mile wide, and, for three miles, very miry from the great amount of rain recently fallen upon it, and covered with willows. We therefore kept along the base of the hills, and occasionally passed over considerable spurs extending into the valley. Below this the stream enters a broad open valley, several miles in diameter, called Round prairie, in which it receives small tributaries from the east and south. In this prairie the grazing is very fine; and the valleys and mountain sides along our path, throughout the day, were covered with the finest fresh grass from an inch in height at our morning camp, to eight inches at that of this evening. In the prairie the stream bends more to the west, and preserves this course, as the valley narrows to a few hundred yards in width as we approached the eastern base of the narrow Wahsatch chain. Entering the mountain, the valley becomes still more narrow, and in a short distance quite disappears, and the passage becomes a formidable canon, in which the general course of the. river is very direct; but the hills. or mountain spurs, which extend down to it, slightly overlap each other, giving it a zigzag line upon a small scale, the projecting points overlapping but a few feet, and are generally not high. The southern bank is much the most abrupt, the wall becoming so nearly vertical as to be inaccessible. The rock at the base is chiefly a hard blue limestone, capped towards the summit of the mountain, with a stratum of argillaceous sandstone of great thickness. On the north side of the river, the

mountain is terminated more in stages; yet it is very abrupt, and we had some difficulty at times in following the Indian trail along its face, in its natural state. These rocky precipices, rising one above the other, soon gain an elevation of two and three thousand feet, and the highest points finally attain an altitude of 4,000 feet above the river. The dip of the stratified rocks, wherever they are exposed, is from the river, and consequently there is little danger of landslides in this gorge. The river as it enters the canon is thirty yards wide, flowing with a strong current; but towards the foot it becomes still more rapid, breaking with considerable noise over the rocks in its bed. The pass, which is ten miles in length, varies in width from one hundred to three hundred yards; and in constructing a railroad through it would be necessary to cross the stream several times, to avoid short curves, which could be done as easily as bridges are usually built; and considerable blasting of rocks would be requisite at various points, but amounting to no large aggregate. A little pine grows on the mountain sides quite down to the river, but it seldom exceeds 8 or 10 inches in diameter. The descent per mile for the first 5.70 miles from Kamas prairie, is 32.90 feet, and 60.90 feet to the mile for the next 5.20 miles; for the succeeding five miles it is 44.40 feet per mile, and six feet to the mile for the succeeding 5.40 miles; and for three miles from the head of the canon the average descent is 30.10 feet per mile; and for the succeeding eight miles, to our camp below the canon, 39.60 feet per mile. Our altitude at this camp was 5,0.77 feet above the sea, and 150 feet above the river. April 22.-We descended the river a short distance this morning, and then turned around the base of the mountain northward into the valley of Utah lake, which lay beautifully bright below us. A railroad from the Timpanogos canon should follow the same line, gradually descending into the valley and passing through its numerous Mormon settlements to the foot of Utah lake, where it should cross the Jordan, and, if practicable, cross the Oquirrh mountain through Cedar valley to the west of Lake Utah-the appearance of this part of the mountain, seen at considerable distances both from the east and the west, rendering it worthy of examination, if at any time a railway shall be constructed west from Timpanogos river; but if this route should be impracticable, then it should descend the valley of Great Salt lake to the north end of Oquirrh mountain. The descending grades by the latter line will be 33.80 feet per mile for 14.20 miles, from the foot of the canon to the American fork; and 3.50 feet per mile for 39.60 miles thence to our camp of the 6th of May, at the northwestern angle of the valley of the Jordan. This unobstructed valley, of 20 miles in width by 30 in length, is largely susceptible of irrigation and cultivation, and already contains many Mormon settlements, of which Great Salt Lake City is the principal. It began to rain violently at 2 o'clock p. m., and continued until dark, soon after which I arrived at Great Salt Lake City after a ride of fifty miles. Latitude 40° 45' 37".

I received on the first of May, at Great Salt Lake City, your orders of the 21st of February preceding, directing me to make the explorations and surveys of the passes eastward from the Great Basin embraced in the preceding part of this report-these surveys having been made in anticipation of the receipt of the instructions referred to, or, in case of their nonarrival, to facilitate the completion of the explorations already ordered-and then to retrace my steps and survey the route which I had proposed, "passing to the south of Great Salt lake in the direction of the 'Sink' of Humboldt or Mary's river, thence towards Mud lake and across to the tributaries of Feather river, and thence by the most practicable route to the valley of the Sacramento river." May 5.-Leaving Great Salt Lake City, we encamped on the west side of the Jordan, which is now flowing with a muddy, turbid current, considerably swelled by melting snow. Nay 6.-The wind blew heavily during the latter part of last night, and a slight fall of rain renewed with vigorous freshness our previous realizations of camp life; and slight showers rapidly succeeded each other, crossing the valley of the Jordan from southwest to northeast during the day. At this season this valley is supplied with a growth of green grass which occasionally forms a sward, but is generally thinly scattered over the surface among the varieties of artemisia known as sage and greasewood. In crossing the level valley from the Jordan, the road is now very good; but during the rainy seasons there are a few miry alkaline beds, which are for the most part, however, easily avoided by making a short circuit to the right or left. We ascended slightly the base of the Oquirrh mountain, and encamped in abundant fields of grass. Large springs burst out along the northern base of this mountain near the Great Salt lake, but are generally more or less brackish; yet the water is used by the few Mormon families settled about them. Day's-.march, 12.98 miles; altitude, 306 feet above Great Salt Lake City. In constructing a railroad, however, this altitude is entirely unnecessary, as the road can be carried nearly on a level with the water of the lake, without a material change of grade while in its vicinity. It is at this point that a road descending the Timpanogos river, and passing by the north end of Lake Utah, should intersect one descending by the Weber, and passing to the south of Great Salt lake, unless it shall be found practicable by the former line to pass the Oquirrh mountain through Cedar valley.

May 7.-A disagreeable night was followed by a high wind and a heavy snow-storm from the northwest, which drove in our faces for two hours while we were passing around the north end of Oquirrh mountain to Tuilla valley. The scenery in turning this point, in the storm, where we came directly upon the shore of the lake, with several islands rising abruptly from its waters, with high mountain shores and extensive mountain ranges in every direction, was very beautiful, and caused regret at the taste displayed in the selection of the site for the neighboring city, from which this beautiful sheet of water is seldom visible, and never appears picturesque. But as it is a city of farms, necessity doubtless dictated its own terms. The Mormons have several small settlements in Tuilla valley, which is ten or twelve miles in width, and extends south from the lake for some twenty miles, where it is crossed by a cross-range with low depressions at either end; the eastern leading into Cedar valley, and the western along the eastern base of the high range forming the western limit of this valley. The eastern side of this valley is finely grassed, but in crossing it the road lies through a continuous- artemisia field, more or less interspersed with grass. For five or six miles in crossing, our road lay along an old shore-line of the lake, elevated some twenty feet above the general level of the valley, into which it gently subsides near a fine spring of water, flowing off in a bold little stream towards the lake. We encamped, after a march of 20.59 miles, on Willow creek, three and a half miles -above or south of the most western Mormon settlement upon this line, and directly at the foot of what had been favorably represented to us as a pass by which to cross the mountain. But its appearance as we approached it was too formidable to require further examination; and the Indians who came to our camp informed us, that it is with the greatest difficulty that a horse when led can ascend by this trail when free from snow-which it is not now-and that with a rider it is impassable. Altitude of camp, 4,487 feet above the sea, and 170 feet less than at our morning camp. Sho-ish, a Utah chief, had sent a runner to his neighboring band, the Goshoots, upon whose territory we were just entering, to say that I was his friend and made very fine presents to his Indian brethren, who accordingly presented themselves at our camp, and were delighted with the trinkets which they received; and I employed two or three of them to accompany me across their own deserts and mountains, no reward being large enough to tempt them to introduce us to their western neighbors, of whom they stand in great fear. Snow-squalls continued during the day, whitening the valleys to the water-level of the lake, and ice formed during the night. May 8.-After some slight examinations of the mountains to the south, we turned down Willow creek and passed north along the base of the mountain towards Great Salt lake, passing several saltish springs and one warm spring, and encamped opposite Stansbury's island, 13.70 miles from our morning camp, and 4,238 feet above the sea. The rocks of the Oquirrh mountain, near Black Rock, and those near our present camp, are conglomerate and sandstone, with others changed (metamorphic) by igneous action, standing in nearly vertical planes. Ducks, gulls, and snipe of a large species, were killed in considerable numbers about our camp, and mosquitoes and gnats were very troublesome. The driving of the water, by the wind, upon the nearly level marshes which border Great Salt lake, presents a marked resemblance to a flowing tide, which has its counterpart in the ebb at the falling wind. May 9.-Before passing around the north point of the mountain, three miles from camp, into Spring or Lone Rock valley, we passed several salt springs, one of which was blood-warm, sending. out a fine stream of water beautifully clear at its source, at which gas was constantly bubbling out; and, as we entered the valley, these springs became more numerous-the finest of which sent out a volume of water two feet in width by three inches in depth. This spring issues through a mass of conglomerate rock, and is inhabited by a multitude of small fish two or three inches in length, which retreated' into the spring under the rocks at my approach. Several other springs, as we passed on, were far less salt, but our horses drank of them

reluctantly. Our path led all day through fine fields of grass, which sometimes occupied the surface unopposed by more hardy plants, but at others was thickly interspersed with artemisia, of the greasewood and rabbit-bush varieties. The large central portion of this valley towards the lake, is an alkaline plain, too soft and miry to be conveniently crossed. It is terminated to the west by Cedar mountains, a range parallel with, but not so elevated -as that to the east of the valley, which is twenty miles wide. We encamped, after a match of 21.45 miles, on a fine little creek a foot in width, descending clear and cold from the highest snow-peaks of the range to the east. It would serve to irrigate a few farms before reaching the alkaline bed just mentioned, in which it sinks. High up the mountain peaks above our camp a few dark masses of pine are seen, and cedar extends nearly down to the valley. Our camp is a short distance south of the line by which Colonel Fremont crossed this valley in 1845, and Captain Stansbury in 1849, and by which it should be crossed by a railway to Cedar mountain, which should be crossed by the route followed by Fremont, where the altitude of its summit is given on the map " drawn by Mr. Charles Preuss from the surveys of Colonel Fremont and other authorities, under an order of the Senate, in 1848," at 5,009 feet above the sea, or about 800 feet above Great Salt lake, or by lower depressions still further to the north, if it should be found desirable. In its course west from this mountain, it should be carried as far as practicable to the south, without unduly increasing its length, to avoid the miry plains nearer the lake-these plains becoming firm in proportion to their distance from it-passing by one of the open spaces to the south of Pilot Peak, by which the succeeding chain of mountains to the west is terminated to the south, and thence be continued by the north end of the succeeding western range towards the head of Humboldt river. For a faithful and lucid description of this part of the line, I beg to refer you to Captain Stansbury's report of his expedition to the Great Salt lake, chapter vi, pages 111 to 116; and for its delineations, to the map before referred to, made by Mr. Preuss. The passes and the country delineated by him in that vicinity were observed with much attention by us from the line which we explored a little to the south of it, our observations confirming the general character of the country as represented on this map, but materially adding to the positive knowledge of it, as will be seen by reference to the accompanying map. We crossed this desert on the 12th and 13th instant, under which dates its description will be found. May 10.-By the advice of our Indian guides, we crossed Lone Rock valley by a very direct course to the pass in Cedar mountains, which they represent as leading to the best route by which the desert west of it can be crossed-the pass itself, in their estimation, being superior. The rise from the centre of the valley to the foot of the pass is very gradual, and its whole surface is covered with small varieties of artemisia, neither grass nor water being found near the road. The valley southward trends considerably to the east, and is uninterrupted as far as our vision could reach, although a low mountain extends into it for a considerable distance from the west, but eventually terminates in the plain. A small growth of cedar is scattered uniformly over the mountain in the vicinity of the pass, in which we encamped at a small spring of very bitter water, after a march of 15.18 miles, grass being abundant on the mountain sides. We met three Goshoot Indians during the morning, who accompanied us to camp. They were armed with flint-lock rifles and powerful elastic bows, made from the horns of the mountain sheep. Our most intelligent guide, Shippah, pointed out to me a small variety of ground-rat or gopher, and a black beetle-like cricket, which furnish a very large proportion of the food of his people. The grass also, on the seed of which they feed, he thinks of interest, and points out every tuft which we pass. May 11.-The ascent became more steep as we approached the summit of the pass; the ravine narrow, and covered with a thick growth of stunted cedar, through which we were obliged to cut a road; and the descent still more abrupt and narrow, forced us to cut a road along its sides for a hundred yards-a considerable labor, as the ground was hard and rocky. Fortunately, just below the summit, we came to a small rivulet of running water, which leaks

from the indurated shale and dark-blue limestone, overlaid by igneous rocks, of which the mountain is composed, and is much purer than that at our morning canmp, which did not afford a supply at all adequate to our wants. The Indians say, however, that when the sun is hot, (mid-summer,) there is no water in this pass. It is not suitable for a railway. Like many of the mountain ranges in the Basin, this terminates in the plain to the south, and can be passed around by a long circuit. It was late when we extricated ourselves from this pass and encamped, having accomplished the short march of only 3.68 miles. The day throughout was dark and cloudy, and at night camp-fires were necessary to comfort, fuel being abundantly supplied by sage. May 12.-We mounted our Indian guides on mules to-day, and furnished them with scarlet cloth for blankets, greatly to their delight-a merrier set of thieves seldom being. seen. The morning was dark and cloudy, and a slight rain which fell during last night had moistened the light friable soil of the hills, making our early ride cool and pleasant. Leaving the base of the mountain, (2.43 miles from camp,) we crossed a field of heavy sand, and a few spaes of hard, barren white clay, succeeded by another field of sand, and then entered upon a soft, moist bed of clay or stiff mud, more or less miry at short intervals for nine miles, in which our riding-animals sank to the top of their hoofs, and occasionally to their fetlocks, and over which our loaded wagons dragged heavily. Eleven miles from the base of the mountain, however, brought us to an extensive field of small artemisia, extending far to the right and left, and sweeping quite up to the base of Granite mountain, which we were approaching at its northern termination. In this field the soil was light but dry, and the travelling fine; and we encamped at the point just spoken of, where we found a fine permanent spring of pure cold water issuing in abundance from the granite rocks in the bed of the ravine three-fourths of a mile above our path; but we were not so fortunate in regard to grass, only a few scattered bunches being found on this part of the mountain, which is a large isolated mass of granitic rocks, rising from the desert in which it stands, like an island from the ocean, to an elevation of 2,000 feet. Its general appearance is that of whitish naked rock, with a few small cedar-bushes in its narrow ravines. It disintegrates considerably, and forms the surrounding soil, which is filled with quartz and mica. Day's march, 19.7 6 miles; altitude of camp, (considerably above the plain) 4,666 feet above the sea. .May 13.-We resumed our journey at 5 o'clock a. m., directly across the desert, (which is that crossed by Stansbury, further to the north, where it is 70 miles wide, to which I have before referred,) south 450 west, (magnetic,) to the nearest point of the Goshoot mountains, which derive their name from the Indian band inhabiting them, although the name might better have been applied to the desert, which is characteristic of their utter wretchedness. Five miles from Granite mountain, we left the dry soil on which we terminated our march last evening, and passing over a narrow ridge of sand, entered upon a desert of stiff mud, as level as a sheet of water, which we found great difficulty in crossing with our wagons for 17.66 miles. For this entire distance there is not a sign of green vegetation, and only here and there a dry stalk of artemisia, where it has been transported by the wind. The lightest sheet of effloresced salt covered the moist earth at intervals, and the track of a single antelope or wolf could be seen crossing the desert for miles, by the line of dark mud thrown up by its feet, so level, white and soft was the plain; and the whole scene was as barren, desolate, and dreary as can be imagined. Fortunately the sun was partially obscured during most of the day; but even with the obscurity its reflection was very painful to the eyes, which were materially relieved, however, by one or two light passing showers, which dissolved the salt upon the plain, but greatly enhanced the fatigue and labor of crossing it. These storms, however, which had been hanging about the high peaks of the mountains all day, accompanied by thunder, increased ill number and violence in the plain as we approached camp, and were accompanied by heavy squalls of wind from the southwest, and we were brought to a stand by a hail-storm, to which 'our animals turned their backs and- obstinately refused to move until it- had passed. Every

object, when it was not storming, was distorted by mirage, rendering it impossible to form correct estimates of objects seen at a little distance-trees dwindling to mere twigs, and extensive lakes to glistening surfaces of mud, as they were approached. Very irregular detached mountain masses lay a few miles to the south, and a single one to the north, conforming in their course to no general theory of parallel lines of crests. The passage to the south of Pilot Peak, and another south of it, looked open and level, and it is by one of -these that a railroad should pass west from this desert; the plain of which sweeps entirely around Goshoot mountains, preserving the same level, or nearly so, of our path and of the Great Salt Lake shore, where a road is already graded, or nearly so, but upon which it will be expensive, however, to construct a firm foundation for the road; for which extensive piling will be necessary in crossing all the miry beds. Approaching the Goshoot mountains, we came to a more firm and dry soil, covered with artemisia, for 2.34 miles to the foot of the outlying hills, where we found fine large springs of fresh water, sending out considerable streams to the plain. They were surrounded by large meadows of excellent grass. These springs are filled with small fish, and the Indians, therefore, give them the name of Pangwich or Fish springs. In anticipation of meeting their friends there, our guides dismounted before leaving the desert and prepared their toilet, for which they removed the dark surface-muld of the desert for two or three inches in depth, when they came to a white-clay mud stratum, with which they painted (bedaubed) themselves, in stripes, to hideous ugliness, remounted their mules, and appeared before their friends in holyday costume. We were soon visited by a number of the expected guests, extremely filthy and very naked, and emaciated by starvation during the long winter, during which their supply of rats and bugs fail, and they are reduced to the greatest extreme of want, if their appearance truly indicates it; and they are doubtless among the lowest of the human race in intelligence and humanity. We fed them and made them happy with small presents. There is a little scattered salt grass without the oasis spoken of; but it only extends a short distance, and is succeeded in the hills by artemisia, and in the desert by utter, desolate barrenness. The teams arrived at camp between 6 o'clock and dark, very much exhausted by a march of 25.32 miles, in thirteen hours of incessant labor after a night of fasting. This desert, by the line by which we have crossed it, is forty miles wide, but less than thirty miles of it particularly deserves the description given of it where it is 70 miles in width further to the north, and the fine water in Granite mountain greatly relieves the hardship of crossing it by the southern line. Altitude of camp, 4,659 feet. May 14.-It rained heavily during last night, and showers continued to fall in the mountains throughout the day, during which Captain Morris and Mr. Egloffstein made a reconnoissance of the mountains, and found them very practical for the passage of wagons. Camp was not moved. May 15.-A heavy fall of rain at camp during last night, covered the mountains well down towards the desert with snow. Accompanied by Lieutenant Baker, Messrs. Egloffstein and Snyder, and a few men, I ascended to the summit of the mountain, and proceeded northeast along it, seeking for the best pass, and to determine with more certainty the practicability of turning its northern base. It is covered with fine grass and a low growth of cedar. The rocks were metamorphic, shale, and limestone. At 3 o'clock p. m. we descended to a fine creek six feet in width, descending from high snow-peaks to the south, and running along the western base of the first range of the Goshoot mountains, and breaking through it by a broad passage into the desert, where it disappears. The accompanying profile of the country explored crosses the desert from Granite mountain to the mouth of this creek, which it ascends to our evening camp. But it is still to the north of this line that the railroad should be carried by the line already indicated, and to which I should have immediately proceeded, had I not been led to suppose, by the Senate map of 1848, that the material from which it was constructed was in the possession of the government, and that the re-examination of the country

was therefore entirely unnecessary. But, as I have already stated, our observation of that line was quite sufficient to determine its entire practicability and excellence as a railroad line. We now turned south, following Fish Creek valley, which is from 250 to 300 yards wide where we entered it, but soon opens to a much greater width, and sweeps off to the south and southwest. Ten miles brought us to camp, the main body of the party having crossed the mountains, under Captain Morris' direction, by a superior wagon-road measuring 18.63 miles. The valley is here several miles wide, and the stream lined with grass, which is not all, however, of a superior quality. Many of the small settlements of Utah are not so well supplied with the requisites for successful cultivation as those found on this stream, on which we found a band of twenty Shoshonee Indians encamped, besides women and children. They are mounted, and contrast strikingly with their Goshoot neighbors (Diggers) in the plump condition of their persons, although they complain of hunger; and in clothing, blankets and buffalo robes being common among them. Our Indian guides left us here, as we were approaching the western line of their territory, and we endeavored, unsuccessfully to obtain one from the Shoshonees to accompany us-their perfect knowledge of the country being of great service in designating the points at which water and grass can be found. May 16.-Leaving camp, we took a nearly west course by the shortest route we could discover, leading to a favorable passage of the low mountains in that direction. The country was at first gently rolling, but soon became more broken and hilly, and covered with an unusual growth of cedar-arteminisia covering the whole face of the country, and the soil light and dusty. The rocks of the lower hills were an indurated clay, and a sandstone, easily crumbled; but the higher hills were metamorphic, surmounted by granite. I rode to the summit of several high peaks to the north of our path, to obtain a better view of the country, and, if possible to discover more favorable passes in this range, but without success. We therefore descended to the west to a valley but three or four miles in width-which extends northwest to the proposed railroad line, as we subsequently ascertained, and southeast to the head of Fish Creek valley, by which this mountain range can, therefore, be turned to the south, fifteen miles above our morning camp-and crossed to a pass marked by a high peak,. at the southern base of which it ascends. The opening or gate to this pass, towards the valley, does not exceed 50 feet in width, the hills of metaphoric rocks being 200 feet high. The dry bed of the pass furnishes a fine road. It rained almost constantly on the mountains during the day, and a hail-storm and one or two showers swept over our path. We encamped a mile above the foot of the pass, and an equal distance below a small spring of fresh water, to which we did not proceed, as the fine grass of the mountain was saturated with rain, and we had provided ourselves with a supply in the morning, not knowing that it could be found at camp. Just before encamping, two or three Goshoots, who had declined to accompany us in the morning, came up with us, and others arrived during the night. May 17.-We followed up the ravine, in which we hadl encamped, for three miles, to where a more broad and open passage to the north extends into the valley we crossed just below that camp, and, as we entered it, changed our course more to the south, and in three miles reached the divide, from which I rode two miles to the west to the summit of a high ridge, from which I obtained an extensive view of the valley to the west and of a large mountain-range beyond, extending considerably to the north and south, upon which there were still large fields of snow, and lying directly in the line I wished to explore. The intermediate valley was destitute of grass, and the distance too great, with an unfavorable light, to allow me to see any evidences of water on its western border. I returned, therefore, to the pass, and encamped a mile and a half to the west of its summit, at a fine spring, which sends out a fine stream watering a small field of grass, and again disappearing as suddenly as it rose. I made presents to the miserable, emaciated Indians who visited our last and present camps, and they were made happy not alone with cloths and knives, but pails-full of soup, on which I feed all who call on us. The morning was pleasant, turning cool towards noon, with light showers of rain in the evening. Near

sundown, I again ascended the high western-ridge to examine the country ahead with a more favorable light, by which I discovered a narrow lake, to which I gave the name of Goshoot, extending along the base of the succeeding mountain-range for several miles, and indications, by the vegetation, of fine springs at the foot of the same mountain. May 18.-Last night was cold, freezing the surface of the ground to the depth of a quarter of an inch. Altitude, 6,550 feet. Leaving camp at sunrise, we continued down the dry bed of the creek for a short distance, but leaving it as we entered the valley, in which our course changed more to the north, for the purpose of passing around the north end of the succeeding mountain. The road was dry and hard, and the artemisia, which covered the whole face of the country, small. The water of Goshoot lake is shallow and bitter, and its banks miry. Crossing below its foot, which sometimes overflows, and sends out a small stream to the north, we encamped among numerous fine springs of fresh water, around which the fresh grass is just springing up, and the willows are just beginning to show their leaves. The day has been the finest we have enjoyed, and as yet (3 o'clock p.m.) we have seen no rain falling in the mountains. Day's march, 18.40 miles. May 19.-We continued our northwest course this morning around the mountain, but, to avoid a long circuit in the plain, passed over the foot-hills of the range through a large growth of the cedar of the country. The range itself is terminated by a high round butte just north of the line of our trail. The valley of our last camp was seen to extend well to the north, and to connect to the east by other plains with the valley above Fish creek, just below our camp of the 16th, which would give an important line for a railroad from Great Salt lake, by a very uniform grade, but by a very circuitous route, were not the line by Pilot Peak, which was in sight, and with which this valley also connects, more direct, with equally favorable grade. To the north of the open passage, beyond the terminating butte above described, there is a remarkable peak, very broad at its base and sloping gradually up to its summit, upon which snow is still seen. This peak apparently terminates a short, isolated north and south range, of which it is the conspicuous feature, and a conspicuous land-mark. To the west of this peak we entered upon an extensive plain extending uninterruptedly so far to the north, that only the highest peaks of very distant mountains were visible above it. It also extends far to the south, but is much more broken by mountains. Turning a little south, we encamped, still on the mountain base, at fine springs, which send out small streams to the plain, watering small meadows of grass before they disappear in the absorbing soil. Day's march, 16.11 miles. As we approached camp we discovered near the springs the smoke of a Digger wick-ey-up, or lodge-that is, a smoke curling upwards from the sunny side of a cedar bush. Its inmates, or more properly occupants, were an old man and a young woman, the lowest beings in the scale of humanity I have any desire to see. They were greatly frightened when they discovered us, and the, man escaped to the mountains; but the woman did not see us until too late to escape; and as she experienced no incivility, her companion afterwards returned, informing us, as he best could, that he fled taking us for Shoshonees. But he was still greatly in fear, and trembled from head to foot, and, with his companion, returned to the hills as often as curiosity or hunger induced them to come forth. They were filthy beyond description, and as ugly in features as in dirt. They had no shelter, no blankets-nothing but a deer-skin or two, a few ground-rats, a little grass-seed in grass baskets, food for themselves, and a variety of artemisia-seed, which the squaw ground between stones for food for two of the most emaciated and mean-looking dogs I ever saw. We could not discover the use they put these animals to in this condition, for they could barely stand, and the woman was constantly beating them with clubs to keep them from lapping the stones upon which their food was ground; but they were very anxious to obtain the fat dogs in our train for food. I made them presents of knives and calico, which astonished them not less than our arrival, by which they were made as happy as they were miserable an hour before. We fed them also, but they were, although half-starved, afraid to eat until they saw us partake of the same dish, so little are they accustomed

to kindness from strangers. Their dialect was a gibberish which none of us could in the least understand, except when they introduced a word or two of some adjacent tribe. The language of the Diggers, in general, is a corruption and intermingling of a few words from those of each of the surrounding tribes, from whom, in part, they come themselves, it is said, being the Botany Bay fellows of all the Indian tribes in the great mountain world around them. They live a family or two in a mountain, and know nothing beyond the rat-holes of' their own hills, being afraid even of their next range neighbors. May 20.-I despatched my assistant, Mr. Egloffstein, with a party this morning to the northeast, and to the east of the high peaks described yesterday, to make topographical sketches of the route, and determine with accuracy the continuousness and practicability of the railroad line by Pilot Peak, to which we were about to return, while with the main party I crossed the plain west of our morning camp, and passing between low hills on the right, which are easily passed around by the north by the line for the railroad, and a considerable mountain to the left, entered the large valley, twenty miles in width in its broadest part, by sixty in length, lying at the eastern base of Humboldt mountains. It connects directly with that seen to extend so far to the north yesterday-indeed it is here the main part of that valley, which could be followed by a railroad, passing by the north end of Great Salt lake, and crossing the HIumboldt mountains by this line. - It is the most fertile valley known to exist in the centre ot the Basin. Numerous streams descend into it from the elevated range of the Humboldt mountains, all the crest of which for a thousand feet below its summit is still buried in snow. To the largest of these streams I gave the name of Franklin river. It rises, by the union of several small streams, in the pass by which it is proposed to cross the mountain with the railroad, descends to the east to the base of the mountain, and thence flows south for many miles, forming the most considerable lake in the valley, of which there are several, but none of great extent. The lakes are surrounded, and all the streams are lined, with extensive meadows of coarse, tall, luxuriant grass; and the water, so far as we could ascertain, at least at this season of the year, is fresh, but near the lakes has a strong taste of decaying vegetation. The richest of the lands are, unfortunately, too low and wet for cultivation to their full extent; otherwise it would furnish lands for a respectable settlement. We passed directly along the shore of one of the numerous ponds soon after entering the plain. It is shallow and its water colored by the clay of the soil, and not more than a mile in length. The day was bright and clear, and we rode for several miles in a due west course from this pond, although this course would bring us directly to the base of the mountains, where there is no possibility of crossing them; but the width of the plain is such-as we travel without any knowledge of the country in advance, not having been able to find a single person who had any knowledge of it by the line I wished to follow-that it is necessary to be sure of finding water and grass for our animals at night, which we could not fail to do at the foot of the snowy range we were approaching, although it increased the distance to travel beyond what it would otherwise have been. But in the middle of the plain we came upon Franklin river, the channel of which is thirty feet wide at present, and it has everywhere overflowed its banks; but in mid-summer it is doubtless a small stream. Turning north, towards the pass in the mountains, we encamped after a march of 21.52 miles, on the banks of the river, which are destitute of timber, but sage furnishes abundant fuel. I observed in the plain a curved line crossing it in a general northeast and southwest direction, and elevated perhaps 20 feet above its general level, evidently the shore of a lake which has existed here within a modern geological period. Acay 21.-To avoid ponds and miry places, we were obliged to change our course more to the north, and in six miles crossed the wagon-road opened by Hudspeth and Hastings in 1846, in conducting a party of emigrants to California. It has been frequently followed since, but cattle are seldom in a suitable condition to cross the desert from Great Salt lake to Pilot Peak the same season that they leave Missouri. But it can be safely crossed- by the line which

we followed; but on arriving in this. valley travellers should bear to the south, and intersect the line one day's journey to the north of the pass to which it leads in the Humboldt mountains. Packing parties can easily cross by the northern pass; however, to the valley of Humboldt river. Antelope, sage-cocks, and ducks were quite numerous in the plain and on the ponds. Mr. Egloffstein and party rejoined us at noon. His observations and topographical sketches conclusively establish the practicability of the railroad line crossing from Cedar mountain to the south of Pilot Peak, and thence to our present camp-and its consequent superiority to all others in this vicinity. The general grades upon it will be readily determined by a reference to the level of our camps of the twelfth and thirteenth of May, and those of yesterday and to-day. The same references will also exhibit a singular feature in the formation of what is called the Great Basin, analogous to that observed in approaching the Rocky mountains from the east, where the gradual and uniformly increasing ascent from the Mississippi or Missouri rivers forms an immense trunk of table-land upon which these mountains are elevated. The altitudes referred to in the Desert are 4,666 and 4,659 feet, respectively, above the sea; and of our last and present camps, on quite as extensive a plain, north and south, as the former, 6,004 and 6,061 feet above the sea.. And upon this elevated plateau, as in the case of the Rocky mountains, the most extensive and remarkable range of mountains we have seen in the Basin, the Humboldt, is elevated its altitude being at least nine or ten thousand feet above the sea; and from the western base, as will be seen hereafter, a corresponding subsidence of plains takes place, extending quite to the foot of the Sierra Nevada, where we again return to nearly the altitude of the Great Salt lake. Latitude of camp, 40° 41' 50". May 22.-To avoid the miry banks of numerous small creeks in the plain, we continued our course of yesterday until reaching the foot-hills of a mountain spur extending from the Humboldt mountains, from just north of the pass we were approaching, several miles into the plain, where it terminates, when we wound gently along its base, and crossed the main branch of Franklin river, (which descends from a high peak to tbe north of the pass,) a few yards above the plain. Though but twelve feet wide and three deep, we were obliged to bridge this stream on account of the miry character of the soil when moist, even on the mountain sides. From this creek, descending slightly, we passed over spurs of hills descending from the pass, and in 2.05 miles came upon a small hill descending from the lowest point in its summit, which was but 0.84 mile distant, 1.15 miles below which we encamped in a side ravine, finding it impracticable to descend with our wagons, on account of the miry character of the soil and of a rocky ravine commencing 1.33 miles below camp, to the valley of Humboldt river, which lies directly west of this pass. Numerous small creeks descending from various parts of the pass unite, forming a stream five feet in depth, at present, above the head of the ravine, through which it descends with a rapid current to the valley below. Its banks in the ravine are lined with willows and a small growth of cotton-wood, and large fallen rocks obstruct its easy passage, did not the soft soil forbid it. The narrow part of the ravine is three miles in length, and its rocky sides very abrupt; and some parts, particularly near its head, rise vertically to the height of 40 and 60 feet. On the north side, immediately above these rocky walls, the mountain spurs are rolling, or intersected by ravines, and rise rapidly to a much greater height than they attain directly above the summit of the pass. They are easily ridden over, however, in any direction near the stream. On the south side these hills are more abrupt, both towards the stream and the east, and are more rocky and broken, the narrow ravines partaking slightly of the character of caniones. Below this the ravine opens and is easily accessible on horseback, although the mountains are still high above it for three miles, whence they subside gradually into the Humboldt valley on the south side of the stream; but on the north side, are terminated quite abruptly by a remarkable round bald butte, standing directly in front of the pass in looking eastward from the Humboldt river. From the summit of this butte the country to the west is seen to great advantage. The Humboldt valley is broad and open for 30 miles between its main branches, which are seen descending from the north and south of this position; beyond which

the mountain chains, which rapidly succeed each. other, apparently rising from a common plain, overlap, and it is impossible to trace the course of the river without reference to maps. A few streams are seen descending towards it from the mountains in the immediate vicinity, but few of them, however, reach it, their waters being absorbed by the light soil of its valley. The whole landscape, except just above us, presents a sombre and even barren aspect, sage being the prevailing plant. The main mountain depression of this pass exceeds two miles in width to the east, but at the head of the ravine, to the west, it does not exceed a half mile in its narrowest part, including the ravine which is only 100 or 150 feet wide. Snow covers the high peaks above it, and a few drifts extend in the ravines down to the level of its summit. The rocks are granite, quartz in masses, blue limestone, and slate, altered by igneous action. In approaching the pass from the east, advantage can be taken of the mountain spur which extends into the plain from its northern edge to the right of our path, to enter it and pass its summit by a longer and easier grade even than that given in the accompanying profile, which indicates the natural grade by which we ascended it; and in descending to the west, its width and the character of the mountain sides are such that some advantage can be taken of them to effect the descent by a line following the hills on the north side of the pass, but this advantage will be confined chiefly to that portion below the rocky ravine. The ascending grades from our morning camp, as indicated by our barometers, are, for 7.65 miles, to. the crossing of Franklin river, 58.10 feet per mile, and thence to the summit of the pass, 2.89 miles, 25.10 feet per mile, the altitude of the summit being 6,579 feet above the sea; and the descending grade to the west, for the first 0.80 of a mile, 78.30 to the mile; and thence to the base of the bald butte, 8.36 miles, 96.70 feet to the mile. Below this point we enter the valley of the Humboldt river between its north and south forks, their junction being, by the course of the creek descending from this pass and the north branch of the river, thirty-five miles distant, with an average descent of 28.50 feet per mile.* The valley of the Humboldt river having been explored by Colonel Fremont, and so favorably represented for the line of a railroad, no further examination of it was deemed necessary and being obliged to proceed sixty miles south to cross the Humboldt mountains with our wagons, I determined to proceed west from that pass across the Basin by a route not before explored, returning to the valley of the Humboldt near the point at which it is proposed for the railroad to leave it in its western course. The 23d of May having been spent in examining the pass described, we resumed our journey on the following morning. *The Humboldt river "rises in two streams in mountains west of the Great Salt lake, which unite, after some fifty miles, and bears westwardly along the northern side of the basin. -- t- * The mountains in which it rises are round and handsome in their outline, capped with snow the greater part of the year, well clothed with grass and wood, and abundant in water. The stream is a narrow line, without affluents, losing by absorption and evaporation as it goes, and terminating in a marshy lake, with low shores, fiinged with bulrushes, and whitened with saline incrustations. It has a moderate current, is from two to six feet deep in the dry season, and probably not fordable anywhere below the junction of the forks during the time of melting snows, when both lake and river are considerably enlarged. The country through which it passes (except its immediate valley) is a dry sandy plain, without grass, wood, or arable soil; from about 4,700 feet (at the forks) to 4,200 feet (at the lake) above the level of the sea, winding among broken ranges of mountains, and varying from a few miles to twenty in width. Its own immediate valley is a rich alluvion, beautifully covered with blue-grass, herd-grass, clover, and other nutritious grasses, and its course is marked through the plain by a line of willow, * i - serving for fuel. "This river possesses qualities which, in the progress of events, may give it both value and fame. It lies on the line of travel to California and Oregon, and is the best route now known through the Great Basin, and the one travelled by emigrants. Its direction, mostly east and west, is the right course for that travel. It furnishes a level, unobstructed way for nearly three hundred miles, and a continuous supply of the indispensable articles of wood, water, and grass."-Geographical Memoir addressed to the Senate of the United States in 1848, by Colonel Fremont-June, 1848.

May 24.-We travelled south along the eastern base of the Humboldt mountains, crossing numerous small creeks, and at our camp a mountain torrent which we were obliged to bridge, although it did not exceed twelve feet in width by two in depth, but it poured by with great fury; yet we were but a few hundred feet above the plain, which we were obliged to avoid on account of the miry banks of its numerous creeks. The base of the mountain is finely covered with grass, but we occasionally passed fields of sage and thorny bushes, the latter covered with myriads of nesting caterpillars. Before leaving camp this morning, a few miserable Indians came in, but they were very wild and timid; and we met a naked, stalwart fellow during the day, whom I adorned with rings. In the plain at the foot of the hills near our camp this evening there are some forty hot springs. Their orifices are in granite-the water boiling up as from a well into funnel-shaped basins, and a small pond is formed by their united waters, with vertical granite walls even with the surface of the plain. There is a slight odor of sulphuretted hydrogen about them, but the water, when cooled, tastes pure and fresh, and is limpid. They are more or less intermittent in their action, and the temperatures of the different springs vary from 120° to 170°, and the total amount of water which they discharge is small. The mountain above us and along our path to-day is almost entirely granitic-sometimes very fine, at others feldspathic and crumbling, or micaceous and disintegrating. The morning was very beautiful and pleasantly cool, and mid-day warm; but we were thoroughly drenched by rain before encamping. Day's march, 19.17 miles. May 25.-It commenced raining soon after daylight this morning, and continued until night, making the soil very soft for travelling, and swelling every rivulet to a mountain torrent; so that, although we started at the usual hour, and did not encamp until late, we made but 7.99 miles; and, although we built several bridges in this short distance, several of the gentlemen were thrown into the swollen streams, their riding-animals being thrown down by the force of the water; but this bathing was of little consequence, as we were all thoroughly drenched from early morning until sundown. We remained in camp on the 26th, for the purpose of observing the eclipse of the sun, for longitude, for which we were very anxious, all our previous efforts having proved so abortive. But the morning was unfortunately very cloudy, and we failed in seeing its commencement, and were no more fortunate at its termination, the sun only occasionally breaking through the clouds during the day, and being too much clouded for the exact observation of its termination. The day was considerably darkened and chilled by the obscuration. Our camp is magnetic west from the point where we entered this valley, near a small Take, six days since.

May 27.-We continued along the base of the mountains, crossing several small streams, and emcamping, after a march of 13.93 miles, at the mouth of a narrow ravine by which an Indian trail passes over the mountains. I ascended it quite to the summit, overlooking again the valley of the Humboldt river, towards which several small streams were seen flowing from mountains west of that on which I stood. On the peaks of two or three of these mountains, only, could I see snow, and on these in but small quantities. The country, except by the course of the Humboldt river, looked very broken and difficult to cross. This pass is only fit for a mule-path, as the ascent by the most advantageous line is 1,200 feet in the first three miles. The lake spoken of before, several miles in extent at high water, we passed to the east to-day. It is lined with-grassy marshes on the west, and apparently by sage-plains on the east, and is very shallow, the shoals appearing here and there above its surface. From my position on the summit of the mountain I could see a high shore-line across its southern end, dry and easily crossed; but it is immediately succeeded to the south by ponds and marshes of considerable extent. Several Indians-Diggers-whom we met, collected a score of their friends, and accompanied us to camp. They are better clothed (in skins) and less afraid of us than those we have before seen. They are accompanied by but one squaw, who has a child a year old, of which she is very fond, and its father plays with it in its new finery-a sight I have never before seen among wild Indians. An equally strange sight was that of the only horse possessed by the party, packed with their effects, surmounted by the chi]d, while the father walked and the mother carried no burden. Several of our' men are quite ill with fevers. May 28.-I engaged an Indian to accompany me to-day in order to gain from him such information of the country as he possessed; but he soon deserted and returned, with two companions who accompanied him, to his people. From the base of the Humboldt mountains a very large number of fine springs burst out and flow into the ponds and marshes to the left of our trail: all the water indeed-and it is a large amount-with the exception of one or two small creeks of this portion of these mountains, bursts in springs from their base. In a single mile I counted fifteen, any one of which would have been a remarkable spring in another locality; but one of them was, even here, remarkable, both in volume and beauty. It bursts from the base of a vertical rock of blue limestone, nearly 50 feet in height, in the face of the mountain in a single stream like the escape of a subterranean river, and pours down in a foaming white sheet over detached rocks for 40 or 50 yards; and thence continues on in a rapid limpid stream, 15 feet in width, and one in depth. The streams from several of the other springs were nearly as large, but none compared with this in beauty. The numerous ponds and marshes formed by them seem to have no outlets; at least we could discover no stream flowing from this valley, which receives a very large amount of water, all of which must be carried away by evaporation. Twenty miles from our morning camp we turned west, and began the ascent of a pass which an Indian described to us by placing his open hands side by side, and gently separating and elevating them, indicating a broad open depression in the hill or ridge rising to high summits on either side. Its width is six or eight miles, and it is a very superior natural wagon-road, for which it has been used considerably in the early days of emigration to California, the Hastings road passing over it. It is 5.18 miles from the eastern plain to its summit, which is covered by a fine growth of cedar, and an equally fine growth of grass. The descent is also broad, and ten miles in length to the western base of Humboldt mountains to where the southern branch of Humboldt river flows past, which is followed by Hastings' road to the junction of the north fork. We encamped, after a march of 35.11 miles, at a late hour, our dinner not being served until 10 o'clock at night. The valley of this creek is uninterrupted to the eye from Humboldt river far to the south. .May 29.-We travelled four miles over a field of rank sage, and entered a dry, grassy ravine from fifty to one hundred and fifty yards wide, leading to the succeeding summit, 6.83 miles from our morning camp, whence we descended by the same canon ravine to the succeeding plain, some fifteen miles in extent, enclosed by mountains to the east, south, and west, and by considerable

hills to the north, and is therefore a "basin," in the centre of which, at times, if not permanently, there is a respectable-sized lake. We crossed the northern end of this plain, where it is covered with rank sage from three to five feet high, and proportionably large, our course being directed to the most favorable western depression in the succeeding range, which we ascended slightly, and encamped, after a march of but 16. 02 miles, in fine fields of grass upon the banks of a small rivulet. Last night was quite cold, snow falling on the mountains, and a few flakes in the valleys, and ice forming on the water; and at sunrise, the thermometer stood at 26°. The party were wrapped in their overcoats during the whole day, and fires are pleasant this evening. But, notwithstanding this indication of the climate, the blades of grass are eighteen inches long. May 30.-We passed the low summit at the depression near which we had encamped, finding a small creek flowing west, which we followed towards the next valley until the hills confined it within too narrow limits to admit of our passing in its ravine; at the same time, the mountain rose high and abrupt to the west, covered with a thick growth of cedar, interspersed with a few small pines, through which we were obliged to cut a road to its summit. The western descent, for a thousand feet, was very steep, and intersected by vertical ledges of metamorphic rocks, broken and fallen at intervals, enabling us to descend with our wagons, when we again returned to the creek, on which we encamped at the termination of the mountains, surrounded by an immense growth of sage interspersed with grass. Day's march, 10.44 miles. The night was cold, ice forming in our tents. M!ay 31.-We entered a large valley, extending north to Humboldt river and far to the south, and covered with sage, except in a few spots white with incrustations of salt. The chain of mountains to the west is not so elevated as those passed heretofore; but a high, snowy peak, and the sharp crest of a considerable range, are seen far to the south, dividing the valley. Several small creeks were crossed flowing into one main one, which descends towards the valley of the Humboldt. Reaching the western mountains, we came to a small stream of excellent water descending from the pass we were approaching, and ascended two miles, when we encamped, having travelled 21.94 miles. We saw but little grass during the day, but it is abundant among the sage on the-hills about our camp. A single Indian visited us this morning, and two or three were seen during the day industriously employed in catching small ground-squirrels or gophers, upon which they subsist to so large an extent. They are very numerous, and in fine condition at this season of the year. The Indians shoot them with blunt arrows, catch them in ingeniously contrived "figure-four traps" set at the mouth of their burrows, and dig them out of the earth with their hands; and it is not unusual to see them carrying forty or fifty, the reward of a single day's hunt. Forty Indians (Diggers) were gathered at our camp at sundown this evening-all males, and generally unarmed. I ordered camp-kettles of soup for their supper, and made them presents of a few knives and other articles, which put them in such good humor with themselves and our party that they spent the entire night at the fire assigned them, under the eye of the guard, singing and rejoicing, and annoying us by their grunts and nasal sounds, of which all Indian singing is made up-sounds anything but agreeable to civilized ears. At daylight their number was increased to fifty; and as I arose, the arrival of a chief was announced by the oldest acquaintance we had in the band, and he was soon paraded before me to receive the lion's share of the bounty in which he had not participated the previous evening. I covered him and his son, a small boy, who stood by his father's side, in scarlet, greatly to their delight. The claims of those who had arrived during the night were next urged; but I had no time to attend to their wants, and informed them that they would receive no more-' Kay-wit," in their miserable language-when their importunities ceased. Their wigwams –wick-ey-ups, as they call them –are superior to those we have recently seen. They are bee-hive shaped, four feet high, and partially covered with grass. The opening of every one that I have seen in the Basin is towards the northeast, an indication of the prevalent direction of the storms.

June 1.-Two miles and a half, by an easy ascent for wagons, brought us to the proper summit of this pass, to conduct us to which, one of the Indians constituted himself guide, running before my horse and pointing out every stone and bush that he was to avoid, while several others were occupied in catching rats along our path; but the main body preceded us a short distance, and appeared in great haste, which excited my curiosity, and I rode forward to discover the cause of it, from which it appeared that, as a matter of policy, or a precaution to prevent being despoiled by robbery of their wardrobes, in visiting us the previous evening, they had, each for himself, made a cache of his effects under separate bushes, and for the same reasons they were now hastening to remove them from where we were about to pass. It was indeed a novel and ludicrous sight of wretchedness to see them approach their bush and attempt, slily, (for they still tried to conceal from me what they were about,) to repossess themselves of their treasures, one bringing out a piece of an old buckskin a couple of feet square, smoked, greasy, and torn; another a half dozen rabbit-skins in an equally filthy condition, sewed together, which he would swing over his shoulders by a string-his only blanket or clothing; while a third brought out a blue string, which he girded about him and walked away in full dress –one of the lords of the soil. With these simple wardrobes they were all soon reclothed, and we arrived at the same time at their lodges, deserted by their women, and upon the top of the pass-that is, to where a respectable stream rose and flowed to the west. But owing to the formation peculiar to so many of the mountains in the Basin, and upon our continent generally, we had but just commenced the ascent necessary to its passage in its natural state. For, though the streams continue to flow to the succeeding valleys, which are open and easily descended, frequently for miles, the mountains still continue to rise to the west, and the valleys are again closed up by their close proximity, and the streams break through the last and highest ridges in deep, narrow, rocky ravines and caniones, which terminate abruptly to the west. This was the case in this instance, and we were obliged to ascend a thousand feet higher before commencing the descent, and were then obliged to encamp, and put all our well men-for we had several sick with rheumatic fevers-to work to level down a roadway on the side of the ravine we were descending. From the top of the valley the view was extensive. - To the west a small valley, containing small ponds of water, sweeps off to Humboldt river, and is succeeded by numerous mountain ranges of limited extent, and by two large ranges upon which there are still large banks of snow. This mountain is characterized by large masses of beautifully colored quartz, and we therefore gave it the name of Quartz mountain, although it is chiefly composed of dark metamorphic rocks. To the pass, Dr. Shiel, geologist, gave the name of Agate, that stone being profusely scattered about in large blocks. Day's march, 6.83 miles. June 2. -Owing to sickness among the men, with new cases of rheumatic fever daily occurring, it was necessary to remain in camp to-day, during a heavy fall of snow, from 6 a.m. until noon, when we proceeded to the foot of the pass, 2.65 miles, and encamped; but during this short march we were thoroughly wet by a shower of rain, and a second swept over us after we had encamped. This pass, though easily ridden up, would be in some parts very difficult to ascend with wagons. The valley in which we encamped does not exceed nine miles in width where we entered it, but a little to the north the mountains trend to the east and west, and it becomes broader, but again becomes narrow before joining the main Humboldt valley. Several small streams descend into it, forming the grassy ponds already described. Two or three varieties of artemisia constitute its chief vegetation. Its soil is very light and friable; the track of a single Indian crossing it being plain and distinct. June 3. –A cool and pleasant morning. Crossing the valley of our morning camp, we ascended a range of low hills of altered rocks, which could be easily passed around to the south, and then crossed another small valley, from which a creek flows into the one first crossed, and passed over a scond range of hills, as easily turned, and encamped on a creek which descends to a small pond two miles distant. Scattered over the hills there are a few bunches of wheat

grass, and on the stream a narrow margin of the broad-bladed grass of the country, and sage supplies us with fuel. We see daily a few varieties of wild flowers scattered along our path. The rocks in the vicinity of our present camp are a coarse, crumbling granite. June 4.-It was again impossible to cross the mountain, (at the foot of which we had encamped,) by the lowest depression in it, on account of a narrow ravine with steep sides and rocky projections at short intervals, and large stones in the bed of the creek which trickles down it. We therefore turned north, following for some distance the ravine of a large stream coming from high peaks in that direction; but it became narrow and miry, obliging us to leave it and wind round from hill to hill until we reached the summit of the mountain, which was itself very springy and miry, and we passed a small pond on its narrow summit. There are no trees upon it, but a few scattered cedar-bushes and a luxuriant growth of bunch-grass. From 'the high peaks near the pass the valley of the Humboldt was seen, 25 or 30 miles distant, to which the valley to the west extends. The descent was more steep, springy, and miry, than the ascent, and filled with out-cropping strata of altered rocks, in the passage of which two or three of our wagons were broken. By the wagon path it was 8.44 miles from our morning camp to the' top of this pass, with a difference of level of 2,019 feet, the altitude of the summit being 7,315 feet. We encamped near the succeeding valley, 3.04 miles from the summit, and 1,667 feet below it. June 5.-In the valley which we crossed this morning there were numerous ranges of hills, and twelve miles to the west a low, bluff mountain, around the north end of which we passed, coming upon a small lake of brackish water surrounded by mniry, desert plains, in all respects like those immediately west of Great Salt lake. Crossing the foot of these miry plains, from which the sun was reflected with great power, we encamped at the mouth of a ravine in the succeeding mountain, from which a fine stream of cold water descends. In the first valley crossed, no vegetation was seen except artemisia, and the soil was alternately light and dusty, and smooth hard clay. The mountain at camp is formed of altered rocks and of a hard, blue limestone. Day's march, 30.10 miles. June 6.-We passed around the north end of the mountain of our last camp, through a broad depression two or three miles in width, in which there were fine springs of water and a respectable growth of cedar. The ascent of our road was inconsiderable. On the north of the passage stands a small mountain, which sends out a high spur to the southwest, which I ascended, and from which the view was exte