The Project Gutenberg eBook, Journal of a Trip to California by the Overland Route Across the Plains in 1850-51, by E. S. (Eleazer Stillman) Ingalls
Title: Journal of a Trip to California by the Overland Route Across the Plains in 1850-51
Author: E. S. (Eleazer Stillman) Ingalls
Release Date: March 25, 2010 [eBook #31780]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JOURNAL OF A TRIP TO CALIFORNIA BY THE OVERLAND ROUTE ACROSS THE PLAINS IN 1850-51***
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JOURNAL
OF
A TRIP TO CALIFORNIA
BY THE
OVERLAND ROUTE ACROSS THE PLAINS IN 1850-51
BY
E. S. INGALLS.
WAUKEGAN:
TOBEY & CO., PRINTERS
1852
PREFACE.
In offering this Journal to the public, the publishers believe that a benefit will be conferred on many who are desirous of visiting the Eldorado of the nineteenth century. This is one object we have in publishing it; but our principal object is to gratify the numerous friends of Judge Ingalls by furnishing them with his journal in a form easily transmitted through the mails to the different parts of the country. Without claiming any merit as a literary production, the author has simply given us a plain statement of incidents as he saw them. Without further remark, we present his work to the public.
Publishers.
JOURNAL.
In offering this journal to the public, the writer makes no pretensions to authorship, but believes that, although it be written in plain, off-hand style, nevertheless, some portions of it may be interesting to the public, and that if any who may chance to read it are about to start for "Eldorado," they may derive some benefit from it, whether they go over the Plains, or by water. The writer will only attempt to describe objects and incidents as he saw them.
We commenced our journey from Lake county, Ill., on the 27th day of March, (or rather I did, the team not being ready, and I having some business to transact at Rock River.)
March, 28—I left Hainesville, and traveled to Franklinville, McHenry Co., at night a distance of 30 miles.
29th. Reached Belvidere about noon, and spent the remainder of the day with John S. Curtis, Esq. Belvidere is a thriving village in Boon co., situated in the midst of a fertile and beautiful country.
18 miles.
30th.—Left Belvidere about noon, after having made a very agreeable visit with Mr. Curtis, and traveled as far as Rockford, on Rock river, where I found E. Ford, one of our company, and several others from Lake county. I found Ford taking care of a California emigrant from Wisconsin, by the name of Maynard, who was very sick at the Rockford House.
12 miles.
31st. I remained at Rockford, it being Sunday. Rockford is one of the most active and prosperous villages on the Rock River, and when the contemplated railroad from Chicago to Galena shall be completed, it will double its size and population. The water power furnished by damming the Rock River is unequaled. It is used now to some extent, but is capable of driving six times the machinery which it now does.
April 1st. Remained at Rockford. Maynard died this night about 11 o'clock. He had the satisfaction of seeing his wife before he died, she having been sent for by the landlord of the Rockford House. How many will be cut down by disease on this crusade to California. How many will die where they can have no friendly hand to alleviate their sufferings, time only will tell.
2d. Started down the Rock River—travelled thirty miles through a very good country, and stopped over night at the house of an old townsman and friend, L. Scott, Esq.
30 miles.
3d. Stormy and cold; went over to Mr. J. R. Merrill's, another old townsman, and spend the day.
4th. Remained at Merrill's—visited Grand de Tour, a thriving village on the Rock River, about four miles from the house of my friend.
5th. Remaining still with Merrill. Disagreeable, stormy weather.—This evening J. and I. B. Ingalls came up with team which left Hainesville, April 2d.
6th. Bought a horse of Merrill to-day. Bade Mr. M.'s family adieu, and felt like leaving home again, so agreeably had the time passed in the society of my friend and his accomplished family. Found one of our horses lame with a sprained ankle; got the materials and made some liniment (by directions of Mr. Merrill,) and I must say it proved the most effectual remedy for sprains, galls, and other injuries to horses, that I ever saw used, and we had good reason to be thankful to Mr. Merrill for imparting the knowledge of making it to us, before we got through with our trip. We traveled this day 24 miles down Rock river—weather pleasant, and roads good.
24 miles.
7th. Sunday—traveled about 25 miles, pleasant weather, but some bad roads.
25 miles.
8th. Traveled about 25 miles to Rock Island. Pleasant weather; beginning to get into the track of California teams. Took in some hard bread, visited Rock Island Lodge, of I.O.O.F., where I found a cordial welcome as befitted brothers.
25 miles.
April 9th. Crossed the Mississippi to Davenport, Iowa; took in 25 bushels of corn—paid for shelled corn 38 cts. per bushel, in the ear 30 cts. Purchased also most of our other necessaries, excepting meat and flour. I was surprised to find Davenport and Rock Island such large places.—They lie opposite each other on the Mississippi, and about three miles above the mouth of Rock river. They are surrounded by a country of fertile soil on each side of the river, and bid fair in a few more years to become very important cities. We left Davenport at noon, and traveled to Hickory Grove, Scott co.—roads very bad, with a snow storm towards night.
14 miles.
10th. Left Hickory Grove in the morning and made 25 miles to Tipton, the county seat of Cedar county. Roads very bad, mud deep, mostly prairie, but good land. We got sloughed once to-day, and had to carry our loads on our backs. We found Tipton full of California teams, and had to let our horses stand out for the first time, although it was a cold disagreeable night.
25 miles.
11th. Left Tipton in the morning and reached Cedar River about noon—found the road bad enough, but better than it had been for a couple of days past. We ferried across the Cedar river and drove a few miles, and put up with a crowd of California emigrants at the log house of an Irishman by the name of Nolan, a clever
15 miles.
12th. Very windy and cold—started on account of our horses, and drove twelve miles, to Iowa City, where we arrived about noon, after one of the most disagreeable day's drive I ever experienced. We laid over the rest of the day on account of the wind. We here found quite a number of our Lake co. friends, who had got here in advance of us.
12 miles.
13th. Remained in Iowa City; the wind still high and the weather very cold. Iowa City is quite a place, with a population, as I am told, of about 2500. It is the seat of government for the State of Iowa, which is its only recommendation. It is situated on the Iowa river, which is navigable at high water for steamboats of a small class. The State House will be a very handsome building when finished; it is built of hewed stone, on the bank of the Iowa river, and when the work is properly finished will do honor to the State. This is a gathering point for California teams, and the town is now full of them lying bye on account of bad weather. It is supposed there are 100 wagons here now, and they keep coming; besides, there are numbers wind bound at the Cedar river.
We are stopping at Swan's Hotel, the best house in the city, the register of which shows the names of great numbers of our town and county people who started before us—and more are coming after. This afternoon, another team, or the advance guard of it, from our town came up. We now begin to find every thing higher as we get farther advanced towards the frontiers. Corn is worth here fifty cents a bushel, and report says that towards Council Bluffs there is no feed for horses and cattle of any kind or at any price.
14th. Sunday. We still lie over; the weather has become more moderate, though it is still cold; the wind has gone down, so that it is more comfortable travelling, consequently most of the teams have left town on their route. They stretch off across the prairie this morning as far as the eye can reach, quite an army of themselves; what we shall find when we get to the Missouri river, it is impossible to tell; judging from present appearances there will be one of the largest armies congregated that were ever got together at one time on this continent. Most of the teams that go to-day head for St. Joseph, the prospect being better on the road that way, and after they get there, for feed for teams than on the Council Bluffs route. We are all in too much of a hurry, for there is no probability of our being able to leave the frontiers before the 10th of May, for want of feed, consequently we shall have to tarry two weeks at some point, and we think it best lie bye at several different points, than all at once.
April 15th. Monday. Left Iowa City this morning, for Washington, county seat of Washington co. Country mostly rolling prairie for the first 15 miles; soil very good, and good road, being the military road built by Government. Streams all bridged with the best bridges that I have seen in Iowa. The balance of the road to Washington—having left the military road—is very bad; no bridges; got sloughed in a creek, occasioned by our hindmost evener breaking; after unloading we got our wagon out with one span of horses. This creek was within about a mile and a half of Washington. I think there is no better evidence of the want of enterprise in the inhabitants, than to find such places unbridged on main roads near villages. We went on with one span of horses, but it being very dark we got sloughed again, and had to leave our wagon and go on to the village, where we arrived cross and hungry about eight o'clock, having made 28 miles, and had the hardest day's work since we left home. However, we found an obliging landlord, which made up somewhat for our trouble. The country for the last part is flat prairie and very wet. I should think it worthless.
28 miles.
16. Unloaded our wagon and got it out of the mud again this morning & started for Brighton, Washington co. 11 miles. Country rolling, the best land on the east side of the Skunk river, that I had seen in Iowa, being rolling openings. Crossed the Skunk river on a ferry. Arrived at Brighton about 2 o'clock, P.M.; commenced snowing soon after, and we had one of the hardest snow storms of the season. Continued snowing until midnight. The town is full of California teams, some going to Council Bluffs, and some to St. Joseph.
11 miles.
17th. Laid over at Brighton. Snow this morning about two inches deep; the day pleasant but cool; the wind in the North West. Brighton is quite a small village, has three or four stores, one steam saw mill, besides a fair share of mechanics and other business men. We found good accommodations, with the worthy landlord, Mr. Yates, and spent a pleasant day. The snow went off by noon, but left the roads muddy.
18th. Left Brighton this morning for Fairfield, Jefferson co., where we arrived without accident, but found the roads muddy; weather warm and showery, most like spring of any day this month.
15 miles.
19th. Stopped last night at the Eagle Hotel, and I must say it was the nastiest hole I ever got into, and everything else was in perfect keeping, and to make matters even worse, the landlord charged the highest bill that we had paid on the road.
Started this morning for Iowaville, sixteen miles, where we arrived about four o'clock, P.M., and put up for the night. (By the way, I found an old townsman and school mate in Fairfield, that I had not seen for thirteen years,—Ezra Brown, Esq., District Attorney for that judicial district, and editor of a paper there. Of course I stopped to visited him an hour or two, and then passed on on this journey of time. Shall we ever meet again?)
20th. Crossed the Desmoines river this morning. This, as the Hosiers say, is a right smart chance of a river, between two and three hundred yards wide, and would be navigable for steamboats one hundred miles above here, if it were not for the dams below, of which I understand there are nine. Iowaville is situated on the bank, and is only a hamlet of log huts, with a grocery or two, but has a steam mill building, and one in operation on the other bank. We crossed on a ferry—charge 75 cts. Most of our route to-day lay through the timber, and the best timber too, I have seen in Iowa, but we have had dreadful roads, the worst, in fact, on the journey.
We arrived at Drakesville about four o'clock and put up for the night, although we could get no "roughness" for our team, (as they call hay here;) in fact we are getting where we find but little hay or grain. Matters look squally ahead, no hay, and grass not an ell high, and growing downwards at that. Grain we care nothing about as we have twenty days feed on bread, which will be more than we can consume before we reach St. Joseph.
20th. Drakesville is a small village of log houses, with a store, blacksmith shop, &c. It is situated in Davis county. The inhabitants I understand are mostly Campbelites, or Disciples. They had a meeting to-day, and are having one this evening. There is a lodge of the Sons of Temperance here, too, who are having their meeting over my head. I did not expect to find anything of the kind in this back country. Good speed to them. I understand they have twenty members, and have two or three to initiate to-night.
20 miles.
21st. Laid over at Drakeville, it being Sunday, remained all day.—Two women and a man were baptized in a mud-hole to-day by a Disciple preacher. Got no roughness, as the people here call hay; our horses had to live on corn, in consequence of which we foundered one.
22d. Left
20 miles.
23d. Passed Centreville this day, and made 18 miles over some of the worst roads I ever saw in the western states.
Though the country generally is the best I have seen in Iowa, being well timbered, and excellent prairie, I do not like the water, it is too milky. No hay—camped by a run.
18 miles.
24th. Heard a wild turkey gobbler near our camp, for the first time. Jonathan started after him but did not get a shot at him. We are now at noon within 30 rods of the Missouri state line, and right glad are we to get out of Iowa. Have been in company the last two days with 3 teams from Mineral Point, Wis. The weather to-day is very pleasant & warm; the warmest day we have had this spring. We find some green grass to-day. We have a good road with the exception of one bad creek. One of our comrades got his horses down in the mud and went back to roll him out; the rest of us passed without much trouble. We traveled ten miles into Missouri, and camped by a small stream. We here saw wild turkeys for the first time. The country is mostly prairie, and very good.
20 miles.
25th. Very warm and pleasant; made about twenty miles over a pleasant country, rather uneven, diversified with woods and prairie, thinly settled. Saw several wild turkeys; there appears to be plenty of such game here.
20 miles.
26th. Passed through heavy timber to-day for most of the way.—Crossed the north and middle fork of Grand river, and passed the village of Princeton, which is a small hamlet of log houses about one half of which are groceries. Tried to buy some flour—found but an 100 weight in the village, and they asked $4 for that. I concluded I would not take it for two reasons: First, if they had but one cwt. in the village, they needed it themselves; and next, I did not like to be shaved well enough to pay that price. They asked $1.50 per bushel for corn.
Uncle Jo, one of our comrades from Mineral Point, and myself, went turkey hunting last night (by moonlight.) We rambled some eight or ten miles, and got back about 2 o'clock in the morning, minus turkeys, not having seen one.
The day has been excessively warm, and we are in hopes of having grass soon, which would be welcome as our horses have had nothing of hay kind but dry prairie grass, which we cut ourselves (and some nights we could not get that) for the last hundred miles, and we do not expect to find any more. We cannot camp now without doing it in a jam. There are some 30 or 40 wagons camped around us now, oxen, horses, &c. We are camped to-night on the Middle Fork of Grand river.
20 miles.
27th. We had a heavy shower with thunder last night: in the morning the wind was in the north-west, and cold. We left our camping ground early, and made 26 miles. We passed one small village to-day—Bethany, similar to the last, i.e. groceries. Have passed through a beautiful country to-day, alternately timber and prairie, some of it has been settled eleven years, but we cannot buy a loaf of bread, a dozen eggs, or any hay or straw, or in fact anything to eat for man or beast, with the exception of bacon, and that raised itself. We were lucky enough to lay in supplies for both man and beast before we got into this region. It is a great pity that Missouri is a slave state; were it a free state, so that free northern men would settle in it, all this great region of valuable land would be settled and improved, and there is no part of the western country that can excel the northern part of Missouri in beauty and fertility. It is better timbered, and watered than Illinois, and is rather more uneven, but no more so than is necessary to make good farming land.
26 miles.
28th. Sunday. We started again this morning and travelled ten miles to the main branch of the Grand river, which we crossed and camped. This is the last timber before crossing a prairie of 25 miles in width. Some go on intending to camp on the prairie, but the wind being cold, (from the north-west) we concluded to lay over until to-morrow. Our camping ground looks like the camp of an army. Horses, picketed tents, with the star spangled banners flying, wagons standing around, while lying by the side of logs and trees are brawny, sun-burnt men, sunning themselves, and taking their ease. Within thirty minutes after we camped there were 21 wagons camped. Since then they have been coming in and camping continually. How many there are at this time, would be difficult to say, and still they come. But this is but a foretaste of what we shall see at St. Joseph, which we expect to reach by Tuesday night, it being 44 miles from this place, we are told. On the opposite side of the river, and half a mile from here, is Gentryville, the county seat of Gentry county. It is a right smart place, as they say out this way. It has a saw and grist mill, two taverns, with a fair sprinkling of stores and workshops. I should think the water power very good for this country, and capable of supplying power for much more machinery than now in use.
10 miles.
29th. Left Grand river and crossed the Great Prairie, passed some teams camped that had lost 22 horses, (but found 20 of them and were hunting for the other two.) Got in with a large train which hindered us so much that we ran by, and made 34 miles for the purpose of keeping ahead of them. Country good, but too much prairie. Passed Platte river, and the village of Rochester. Good mills on the Little Platte river at this village.
34 miles.
30th. Left our camping ground and traveled 14 miles to St. Joseph. Weather very cold and windy—no grass nor hay. We have traveled 200 miles without grass or hay, but have cut dry prairie grass where we could find it. Camped in a ravine half a mile north of St. Joseph. St. Joseph is quite a village, and doing a great deal of business at this time. But the way they fleece California emigrants is worth noticing. I should advise all going the overland route to take every thing along with them that they can of small weight, as every little thing costs three or four times as much here as at home. The markets are filled with broken down horses jockeyed up for the occasion, and unbroken mules, which they assure you are handy as sheep. It is the greatest place for gambling, and all other rascality that I was ever in. We have to stand guard over our horses as much as if we were in the Indian country. It is said that one or two men have been shot by the emigrants while in the act of stealing horses. Here let me before leaving the State of Missouri say one word in relation to the country. We traveled about one hundred and eighty miles through the north-west part of the State which is mostly unsettled. We found the country the best I had ever seen in the great Mississippi Valley, and I had seen a great share of it. It is a perfect paradise for the agriculturist, the manufacturer and the hunter. The soil is warm and fertile, the wild prairie grass growing as high as a man's waist on the uplands. An abundance of good timber skirts the streams. The land is rolling, approaching the hilly, and well watered by rivers, brooks, and springs of pure clear water, running over gravelly or rocky beds in clear banks, free from sloughs or marshes. The streams furnish an abundance of the best water power suitable for driving all kinds of machinery. The prairies and woods are filled with abundance of deer, wild turkeys and other game, and of wild honey. The river bottoms are covered with endless quantities of plums, sweet grapes, and various other wild fruits in the greatest abundance. Nature has seemed to lavish her best gifts on this country
May 1st. Remained encamped as before. Weather more moderate but too cold for grass to grow.
2d. Remain camped as before. Sent down the river five miles and got 30 bushels of corn in the ear at 90 cents per bushel; bought 11 bushels of shelled corn at the camp for one dollar per bushel, which we got ground into meal. Commenced raining in the afternoon, and rained all night; we had a very disagreeable time of it.
3d. Got our stores mostly on board and crossed the Missouri, and drove six miles to the Bluffs, and camped. We found the whole six miles a camping ground, and a good sized city of tents at the Bluffs, probably six thousand men. Weather still cold.
6 miles.
4th. Remain camped at the same place. Went back to the town and got the remainder of our supplies; had a very warm day, but a cold night before it—ice made ¾ths of an inch thick.
5th. Sunday. Remained camped at the same place; had a pleasant day. There was a funeral down at the lower end of the camp to-day; it was about a mile from our camp, I did not learn the particulars. Met at night to try and organize a company; chose a committee and adjourned until the next night at five o'clock.
6th. Remained at the same place. Went to town to try the Post Office again before we started, but found nothing. By the way, I forgot to say that we are in the Nebraska Territory now, and on the Indian lands. The Indians do not like it very well that the whites camp on their ground on account of cutting timber. (There are about 500 of them camped near us.) The men met again to organize; I was not present, but they made out nothing. We concluded to go with the same company that we had been in: Trimble, Sublett, Ainsly, Welch and Trammel & Co. from Mineral Point, Wisconsin.
7th. Had a bad night last night; it rained and snowed nearly all night. Had about two inches of snow on the ground this morning. It cleared off about 10 A.M., when we struck our tent and started on the long journey. Weather came off fine and warm; find some grass but none to amount to anything; still have to cut dry grass. We made 20 miles to-day, and camped on a small creek. We have nine teams in company that expect to go through together, although we are not organized, viz: (besides myself) Thomas Trimble, and William Sublett & Co., Stephen Ainsly and party, Litwiler and company, and Daughterty and company. We have mechanics of every trade, and various musicians, and while I am writing, one of the company is enlivening the solitude with a fine toned key bugle; one ought to be here in the wilderness to know the value of music. We have 37 men in our party, and if the other teams come up and join us we shall have 41. This I think is a large enough party, as we cannot camp any where after this without being near other companies, several of whom are now camped above and below us. We expect to go as far as the Indian Mission to-morrow.
12 miles.
8th. Made 14 miles over a rather hilly country, and passed the Indian Mission, and camped two miles from it on a creek. We found some fine farms at this mission; it was a pleasing sight to us to see the wheat fields; they appeared to compare well with the wheat fields of Illinois. Passed some dead horses on the road to-day; also some graves of those buried last year. Several teams came up and joined us this night.
14 miles.
9th. Traveled about 25 miles to-day over a prairie country, passed several more graves made last year. We have not seen any fresh ones yet, but found more dead horses. This is the result of feeding too much corn with no hay or grass. The grass seems to be getting a little better as we get on. Have had a very hot day, and dry, and good roads with the exception of two or three mud holes. Some more teams came up and camped with us—we turned off from the road and camped on a small creek.
25 miles.
10th. Had 21 wagons in our train this morning. We call all hands at 4 o'clock A.M. now, and start about ½ past 6. Had some rain last night, when the wind shifted to the north-west, very cold, and we have had one of the best roads to-day that I ever saw; plank roads are no comparison to it, and have passed over the most beautiful prairie country in the world, with little timber, and that dwarf burr oak, but the soil is equal to the best in Illinois. We turned off from the road about one mile and camped on a branch, about 3 o'clock, P.M. The grass is still improving. We have about 75 men in our company, which is too many, so many cannot agree. While I am writing, two of them are very near fighting, and the captain, Wm. Soublett stands between them, as this is the only means of keeping them apart. We cannot go on long with so many, I think. Passed some more graves, and dead horses to-day; in fact we expect to every day. It looks bad to see so many at this end of the route.
25 miles.
11th. Drove 22 miles to-day. Passed a Chicago wagon broken down at a creek; Hugunin, of Waukegan, belonged to the party. The country is prairie, without timber, excepting a few scattering trees on the creeks. We were delayed some time by a train of ox teams at a creek; while we were watering I fell asleep, and came very near being left behind the team. Ford came back and roused me. I stood guard last night, which was the cause of my being so sleepy; passed several dead horses, and the graves of many buried last year.
22 miles.
12th. Sunday. Not having a good camping spot we concluded to travel, and made 30 miles, and reached Blue river. Here we found a large city of tents, and preaching. There were probably 2000 men camped within two miles of the crossing; and here we found wagons broken down last year, with irons of those burnt. Voted two teams out of the train this morning for disobedience of orders. The night was cold, but the day was warm. We found some last year's graves, besides the
Blue River, or as it is commonly called, the Big Blue, is a beautiful clear stream, about eight rods wide, and at this time about three feet deep. It is a favorite camping ground for California emigrants. It has a skirt of timber, mostly cotton wood, from 8 to 100 rods wide along its west bank, and generally plenty of grass may be found. Sometimes however the emigrant is detained here for two or three weeks by the high water, when his only consolation is in hunting antelope and wild turkies, of which game there is an abundant supply on this river, and in fishing. We caught a few small cat-fish after we had camped, but did not have time to try the qualities of the stream for fish to any great extent. This stream is in the Pawnee country, and consequently I would advise all emigrants who hunt remote from the road and their trains, to be on their guard, for the Pawnees are a very treacherous, hostile race, and would not be likely to omit of an opportunity offered to strip a solitary hunter and send him in minus his gun, clothes, and perfectly naked, for they seem to be a people much given to such practical jokes, as some who have traveled this road can testify.
30 miles.
13th. Made about 25 miles to-day, but found but little grass. Have had a good road, and a very hot day. Litwiler and myself scouted to-day for a good camping ground, and found one where there was good grass and water, but no wood except a few dry willows, which we made answer our wants for the night. We had the misfortune to burst one of our inside hub bands whilst wedging up the boxes this evening, which, although a small matter in the States, yet may prove a very serious one out here on the plains, two hundred miles from a blacksmith's shop, as it may be the means of losing our wagon.
25 miles.
14th. Made an early start and traveled 28 miles; passed a new made grave, (made this morning) of a young man who accidentally shot himself through the head, whilst in the act of taking a rifle out of the wagon, with the muzzle towards him. He was from Illinois. We have had a dry, hot day, and the dust has been very annoying to us. Litwiler and myself scoured the creek bottoms to-day again in search of irons of wagons that had been burnt, and succeeded in finding some hub bands, with which I repaired our wagon so that it answered as well as before it was broken. We turned off from the road this evening about a mile, and camped by a branch of the Little Blue river, where we found a plentiful supply of grass, wood and water. Litwiler killed a wild turkey this evening, which was very fat. We have a beautiful camping ground as the heart could desire; our wagons are circled, with the tents on the outside like a Tartar village, on the side of a gentle sloping knoll, at the base of which stretches off to the river, a beautiful grove of timber through which runs a clear sparkling brook made by a copious spring which arises from the ground only a few rods from our encampment. Our horses are feeding about in sight on the side hills, cropping the rich grass, an abundance of which they have not had before since we started on this long journey. Indeed we look, if we except the wagons, more like a wandering band of Tartars than a company of christians bound on a business excursion; and the appearance of our men does not tend to destroy the illusion, as sunburnt and bearded with their belts stuck full of bowie knives and revolvers, they lounge about in groups on the ground around the camp fires, or busy themselves amongst the horses, or in the various sports which are got up by the travelers on the plains to while away the time. But it requires a more able pen than mine to describe, vividly, a scene like this. To see it and feel it in all its beauty, one must be hundreds of miles from civilization, out on those great ocean like prairies, where the sight of a tree is welcome to the traveler as the sight of a sail to the mariner when he has been for a long time traversing an unknown sea. He must be there on a balmy sunset eve, after a long and wearisome march over arid plains, destitute of water, and suffocated with the dust. Then when he can find a camping ground combining all the blessings of grass, good water and beautiful groves, all that the traveler on the plains holds essential to human comfort, he will truly appreciate a scene of this kind, but to the dwellers in cities, who know nothing of the beauties of nature in Nature's temple, the vast wilderness, no description would give a life-like picture of such a scene.
28 miles.
15th. Remained at the same camp to-day to recruit our horses, and make some repairs on the wagons, shoe horses, &c. A part of the men have been hunting—some of them have just returned, it being noon, and report having seen a great many antelopes, wild turkies, wolves, &c.; but have brought in nothing, with the exception of Fuller, who has just come in with a back load of clams or muscles tied up in his shirt, he not having any other means of bringing his prize, having stripped himself of that very necessary garment and constructed it into a bag for that purpose. Perhaps by night they may succeed in getting some kind of game for a change. I have been busy repairing the hub of my wagon, while others are equally busy, shoeing horses, washing clothes, and attending to other necessary evils of a camp life. This evening I went out and took tea, (as the old ladies would have it at home, in the settlements,) that is, I went to the tent of friends Litwiler, Porter, and Drake, and helped eat the turkey which Litwiler shot last night, and we had quite a sociable time of it, none the less so from the novelty of taking tea out in this great wilderness, where perhaps the foot of civilized man never trod before—and one thing I can say with candor, that unlike many tea parties in more civilized regions, we had no scandal to talk over to give zest to the enjoyment of our tea drinking, although we did dwell somewhat on our homes, wives, children, fathers, brothers, sisters and friends. One wagon left us this morning, being anxious to get on.
16th. Traveled 25 miles this day over a barren, volcanic country. The face of the country is prairie diversified with sandy and rocky knobs, with no water fit for man to drink, although there is some in muddy pools that the horses may drink as a last resort. The country is destitute of timber, and has every appearance of having been acted upon by volcanoes, and taking it altogether, it has been the most dreary day's drive that we have had yet. We have had an exceedingly hot day, and the dust has been suffocating. The ground is so dry that grass cannot grow.
We camped this night on a dry branch of the Little Blue river, where we could get some water of very poor quality. Found less grass here than at any place back, which is very discouraging, for there has not been enough yet at any place but one, to give our horses what they required. We found a company camped here who intend to stop here three days, and if no rain falls in that time to turn back to the States, but that is what we will never do, for we will go on until we get through, or perish in the attempt; let what will come, our company are determined to go through.
25 miles.
17th. Our company held a council and elected me Captain of the train this morning, which is by no means a desirable post, as it is attended with greater responsibility and much more care and labor than a less noted position. However there was no help for it, the company unanimously insisting on my acquiescence, so I was forced to yield to the "public voice," and accordingly entered upon the discharge of my duties.
We struck our tents at half past six A.M., and crossed the branch where we became the involuntary witnesses of a terrible accident which happened to a train that started from above us about the time we left. As we approached the main road we were
We reached the Little Blue river about noon. The Little Blue is about 30 feet wide, and about 3 deep, good banks and sandy bottom; the water is good, and flows in a quick current. It is skirted with cotton wood trees, with some oak and ash the whole length of it. The timber generally lies on the west bank of the river, and averages from 20 to 100 rods in width. It furnishes good camping grounds all along its bottoms.
One of the men killed an antelope this evening which was divided up amongst the different messes in the train.
25 miles.
18th. Saturday. We saw some Pawnees to-day, for the first time—four came to the road to trade—about 20 more were hid in a gully a short distance from us, who were seen by some of our men, although they tried hard enough to secrete themselves. They are a treacherous, ill-looking set, and I did not like the looks of them much. They have too much of the cat look in their eyes, and when I see that in an Indian, I always look out for treachery. We saw some buffalo to-day—one was killed last night a short distance above our camp. We camped this night on the Little Blue, where we found plenty of grass. Litwiler and Ranahan killed two antelope this evening, which furnished our camp with fresh meat again. We found plenty of signs of beaver this night, our sentries hearing them splashing their tails in the water nearly all night; on the banks of the river were trees one foot in diameter cut down by them.
22 miles.
19. Sunday. We concluded to travel to-day. Left the Blue for the last time about noon. A man had three horses and $500 stolen last night by his own guard, who left him with his wife and two other women without a team. We took in water at the last place that we struck the Blue river, having 21 miles to travel without good water. Met a train coming from Robadeau's trading post, with five wagon loads of buffalo skins and other peltries. We stopped and wrote letters and sent back to the States by them, for which we paid them 25 cents for each letter. Robadeau himself was along, riding in a nice covered carriage, smoking his pipe, enjoying all the comfort imaginable.
25 miles.
20th. We camped last night on the prairie without wood or water, only some rotten slough water, bad enough to poison a horse. We had a wind storm, with heavy thunder, just at night, but no rain. It came upon us instantly without warning, and before we could secure our tents they were all blown down but two, which were protected by, and secured to the wagons. It was terrific, raising loaded wagons on the side next to the wind, two feet from the ground; we expected they would be blown over, and nothing saved them from being overturned but their loads, for if they had not been loaded they would have been swept away before the wind like feathers. Some of the time it was impossible for a man to keep his feet. I never saw such a storm of wind in the States, and hope I may not see another on this journey. We drove 26 miles and camped on an island in the Platte, or Nebraska river, about two miles below Fort Kearney, where we found plenty of grass and fuel. Saw some antelope, deer and buffalo to-day, but did not try to kill any.
26 miles.
21st. Remained over to repair damages, and to cut our wagon boxes off and make them shorter. Had some rain in the morning. A report is current here this morning that a train was cut off by the Indians on Sunday night, (where we baited Sunday noon.) A company of dragoons have left the Fort to-day to investigate the matter. Fort Kearney is considerable of a fort, built of adobies or unburnt brick. It is built in the form of a paralelogram, the centre forming a square which is defended by a park of artillery. The garrison consists of about 250 soldiers, who seem to be under excellent discipline. The commander's name I did not learn. The whole affair seems to be well calculated to keep the Indians in check, but I think would be of very little account in repelling an attack made by scientific troops, supported with good artillery.
22d. Started again this morning, traveled 22 miles up the Platte river. Our road lay along the Platte bottom, and was very good, but somewhat slippery from the rain that fell day before yesterday. The Platte bottom on this side of the river, is from 10 to 15 miles wide, being terminated on the side opposite from the river by high sand hills or bluffs. The river itself is about two miles wide, with a swift current, but filled up with innumerable islands and sand bars.
22 miles.
23d. Our road still leads up the Platte bottoms. The land is very good, and we find some grass, best where there is no wood, except some willows and cotton wood on the islands in the river. We saw some antelope and buffalo to-day, but they were back on the bluffs, and our men thought too much of their spare horses to follow them.
25 miles.
24th. Continue still up the Platte bottom. We found some excellent springs of cool water, which were a treat to us, as we have had a very hot day, and our water has all along been muddy river water. We were compelled to use buffalo chips to-day for fuel, there being no wood. I suppose many of my lady readers would rather turn up their noses at a hoe cake baked on buffalo chips, but I assure them I saw ladies, who were genteel, that seemed to eat cakes baked with this fuel with great apparent relish. The buffalo chips used are droppings of buffalo the year previous. They become entirely dry, and make very good fuel, and are the main dependance for cooking for the next 300 miles, and until we get into the sage country. One of our men waded the Platte river to-day while we were baiting. The water was about three feet deep, except on the sand bars, where it was often not over six inches deep. The width of the river is about one mile. We began to find alkali on the surface of the ground to-day. In some places it was half an inch in depth, and tastes like air slacked salæratus. We found but
25 miles.
25th. Weather still hot, with cold nights. The wind changes about midnight, and blows cold from the west until noon of the next day, in the afternoon it dies away, leaving the atmosphere hot and sultry. The wind suddenly changed this evening, and blew a perfect tornado. It would have made a parson split his sides with laughter if he could have refrained from holding the hair on his own head long enough to laugh—to have seen the perfect confusion and turmoil which our camp was thrown into when it struck us. Tents were flying in the air, men chasing their hats, with the most persevering energy; some were holding down their tents to keep them from tumbling down, while others were tumbling them down to keep them from being torn into ribbons, and others in the greatest excitement were securing the covers of their wagons to prevent their being blown away; in truth it was one of the most delightful scenes of confusion, turmoil and dismay that could be imagined. For our part, we had noticed the coming change a few moments before it came about, and had secured our tent to our wagon, so that it weathered the gale; ours and one other were the only ones in the camp that remained standing when the blow passed over. The tornado lasted about thirty minutes, but during that time it leveled every tent in every encampment in sight of us, (but the two in our camp.) This is the second time we have had such a blow out, but we expect to find more of them before we get through. The grass is poor to-day, and no wood except willows on the islands and buffalo chips, of the latter of which there are a great plenty.
28 miles.
26th. Sunday. A part of our train concluded to lie over to-day, but the majority being against it, produced a split in the train, owing to which 10 wagons left us and drove on, leaving seven wagons behind. This we consider no detriment, although the men belonging to those wagons that left us are all of them whole-hearted, noble-souled companions. Small trains travel faster than larger ones, and the difficulty of finding good camping grounds for a small train is not so great as for a large one. We were sorry to part with them, but we parted in friendship and peace, as all ought to do on this journey. Some of them wish to travel to Fort Laramie, which is 330 miles from Fort Kearney, before stopping, but we wish to rest our horses one day in every seven, and are determined whenever we can find grass to make that day the Sabbath. We are all very busy keeping the Sabbath, which is done here after this fashion: Exercises of the morning, shaving and cleaning with a plunge bath in the Platte river. Forenoon, setting wagon tire, repairing wagons. Afternoon, shoeing horses, washing clothes &c. &c. Evening, rest—which is all the time we get to rest. Our stopping days are no resting days to us, but our horses need it—they look well now, and we mean to keep them looking well if we can. We have three blacksmiths in our train, and one wagon maker. We set the tire on Ainsly's wagon this morning in a manner that would be new to blacksmiths in the States. Not having any means of welding tire, we took them off from the wheels, took all the felloes off, and then put leather cottrells or rings on the spokes, thereby raising the shoulder of the spoke and enlarging the circle of the wheel, then put the felloes on again, and then heated the tire, and set it as tight as the best blacksmith could do, with a forge and bellows to cut and weld the ties at. This valley is lined with buffalo bones and carcasses, their skulls lie about in every direction. One of our men found 18 yesterday in one spot at the foot of a high bluff. They were probably driven over the bluff by the Indians. We saw no buffalo to-day, although there were plenty of signs, they appear to come down to the river at night to get water, and go back to the plains in the morning. The bottom is about two miles wide here, and on the bluffs may be found some few scattering cedars. Litwiler killed a noble buck to-day. Its horns were in the velvet, and the meat good. It made us plenty of meat for the whole company, and some to spare. Saw a beaver dam at this place.
27th. We struck our tents again this morning and started. We have had a very cold day, so much so that we needed great coats and mittens, and I have suffered more with cold than on any day since I started. We had a smart shower in the morning, which was welcome. The country on this day's drive looks like a huge buffalo pasture, the ground being covered with buffalo chips like a farm-yard. The emigrants before us have been slaughtering them without mercy. We counted eight fresh slaughtered ones within one mile distance. We were informed to-day that McPike & Strother's train lost 25 mules and horses in a stampede last night. We crossed the south fork of the Platte this afternoon. It is about three fourths of a mile wide here, which is the south or lower ford, but we had to travel in the river at least a mile and a half, the wind and current sweeping us down the river, so that our course lay in the form of a half circle. The water was about up to our wagon boxes, one of them taking water a little. This crossing is one of the exciting scenes of this journey. When we crossed, the river was filled with wagons, men, mules and horses, extending quite across the river. One of our wagons got stuck in the quick-sand which frightened the horses, but frightened the driver more. Being on horse back myself, I rode back to assist the driver, but in our endeavors to start the wagon we had our doubletree broken, owing to which accident I had to go ashore and send back a spare team to help them out, but before the team reached the wagon, and within a few minutes after I had reached the shore, the driver came ashore, bearing in hand a tin lantern, that being (in his fright) the only thing which he could find of value, to save out of the drowned wagon, which, as he supposed, would be soon buried in the quick-sand. However, after awhile, the wagon came safely ashore, when the driver had the satisfaction of depositing his tin lantern in a place of safety again in one of the boxes in the wagon. He did not relish much being said after that about crossing the Platte, it was a disagreeable subject, decidedly. Some of the teams were towed through the river with long ropes, with 20 or 30 men dragging at them ahead of the mules and horses, up to their middles in the water. One man was riding horse back when his horse stumbled off from a sand bar into deep water, and horse and rider both went out of sight; a dozen of us started immediately for him, but before we had got to him, horse and rider both came up, the horse making for the shore, and the man for the nearest sand bar.—The man lost his rifle and hat, which grieved him a great deal; the horse lost his rider, which he did not seem to take to heart at all. We drove about two miles after crossing and camped on the bottom, with no fuel but buffalo chips. A stampede took place about sunset, of 150 head of horses, mules and oxen, which was the largest stampede that we have seen or heard of. We were just cooking our supper. Our horses were quietly grazing around the camp; the men gathering buffalo chips for the night, or idly lounging about the fires, talking and smoking, and taking as much comfort as possible after our hard day's work, when down the river came a sound, as of distant thunder, yet more terrible to the ears of the practiced emigrant on the plains; instantly every man was on his feet listening to the approaching sounds; faintly above the noise could be heard the cry of stampede! stampede! and a dark mass enveloped in the dust could be seen moving down upon us with the speed of the wind. Instantly every man sprang for the horses, knowing too well that if they were not got inside of the correll of wagons, before that moving mass of terror and phrenzy came up to them they were lost. The cooks threw down their frying pans, the men their pipes,
20 miles.
28th. We traveled up the south Fork about eight miles, when we left the river and crossed the dividing ridge between the two forks to the north branch of the Platte. The country is barren and sandy, with no grass. We saw several antelope, and had one or two good chases for them, but did not get any.
22 miles.
29th. We were compelled to ascend the bluffs to-day and travel 15 miles without water. Three buffalo came running towards our train to-day, and threatened to run through the train, but turned their course when within about 20 rods of us. Col. Sublet shot two bullets through one of them from his double shooter but did not bring him down. Litwiler afterwards killed a bull. We stopped four hours after we got to the river to get in the meat. It was excellent, with the exception of having a strong flavor of musk. It will supply our whole train for a week, besides leaving enough for 40 men. We have found great quantities of wagons, irons, chains and other property thrown away, on the road to-day. Abundance of buffalo, antelope and wolves are seen now.
24 miles.
30th. We got an early start this morning, and reached Ash Hollow about noon, where we found some trees growing, which were welcome to our sight. The road from the upper ford on the South Fork, comes in at Ash Hollow. Camped early and found plenty of grass, with thousands of horses cattle and mules feeding upon it. An old Frenchman with a party of Yanktaw Indians, is camped near us, trading with the emigrants. We have passed several good springs of water to-day. The Bluffs here are mostly limestone, with a few cedar trees growing upon them; back of this they have been mostly sand bluffs. We find alkali every day now.
22 miles.
31st. We had a heavy shower last night, a perfect deluge, but it was needed, for the country was very dry. We have passed several Indian villages to-day, belonging to the Yanktaw Sioux. One village had about forty lodges in it. The Sioux are a noble race and very friendly, and appear to be as much civilized as their neighbors near the settlement, that is they know how to beg to perfection. They lately had a fight with the Pawnees, in which they were victorious, and took a great many ponies, which are now feeding around the wigwams. One of them came in with a pony loaded with buffalo meat while I was in their wigwam. I saw some Indian burials, to-day. They bury on a platform raised from the ground, on poles about eight feet high. The poles are set up in the form of a pyramid, and are fastened together at the top, where also is hung the medicine bag of the chief. The body is wrapped in buffalo robes, and a cloth made of bark, enclosing also a quantity of buffalo meat, and other provisions to last him on his journey to the spirit land, and his arrows to shoot with on the way. When all the preparation is complete, the body is laid upon the platform, to moulder or dry up as may be, in the sun, until the robes get off when the ravens may finish it. This one that I went to see to-day, smelt so bad that I could not approach very near to it without holding my nose, and then it was very offensive. It was a chief who had been killed in the recent fight with the Pawnees.
June 1st. We had more rain last night. Passed several springs to-day, and saw some scattering trees on the bluffs. We now find great quantities of lizards; they are small, being about three inches long, and very sprightly and active little things, and the boys have much fun in chasing them. We passed some more Sioux and Chienes wigwams to-day; or as the Indians themselves pronounce it, Siuk. We had a heavy wind-squall in the afternoon, with some rain. Country still barren, with but little grass. We camped at night in sight of the famous Chimney Rock; this rock is quite a curiosity. It is composed of soft sand stone. It is about one hundred and twenty paces around it at the base, and about as high as Bunker's Hill monument, and looks very much like it at a distance. It can be seen at a distance of thirty or forty miles. We travelled one day and a half after we came in sight of it, before we came opposite to it. It is said by the French traders to have been much higher than at present, but is wearing away every year by the action of the elements. The Court House and county buildings are also in sight from our camping ground to-night. They are a group of sandstone bluffs, resembling the objects which they are named from, and are
25 miles.
2d. Sunday. Laid over to-day, to air our loads and rest our teams.—All the wagons but Litwiler's and mess left us to-day, being anxious to get along. We shall probably overtake them at St. Laring, which is about ninety miles from this place. The weather is pleasant and warm with a fair chance for grass. Fuller and J. Ingalls undertook to go to Court House Rock this afternoon, which looks to be but a few miles from us, but after traveling about twelve miles they thought it looked quite as far as when they started, and they turned back; they got into the camp about eleven o'clock at night.
3d. Drove twenty-five miles, and passed the Chimney Rock. We camped about two miles back from the river on the bottom, and about four miles from a large bluff resembling the fortification which we named Fort Whitey, from its white appearance. Several of the boys went out on a wild goose chase to the bluffs for wood, there being a few straggling cedars in sight which appeared to be not over two miles distant; they started about four P.M. and got back at ten o'clock at night pretty well fatigued, with no fuel, being unable to reach the cedars.
25 miles.
4th. Had a heavy rain last night, and got a late start, but drove thirty miles and caught up with the rest of our company who left us on Sunday. We passed Robadove's trading post, at Scott's bluffs and camped about two miles from it at a spring of clear cold water gushing out of a rock.—This ought to be called the Rock of Horeb, situated as it is in a desert land. Our road to-day led back from the river and we have had a scarcity of water for our horses.
We have had a dry, hot day, with great scarcity of grass. The country is getting more barren. Found an indifferent camping ground.
25 miles.
6th. Passed another French trading post to-day with its usual accompaniment of Indian wigwams. Litwiler swapped horses with an old Indian who took a fancy to his horse because it was white, and his squaw wanted it, he said. We reached Fort Laramie about four o'clock, P.M., forded the Laramie river, and camped about two miles from the fort on the bluff, the authorities at the Fort prohibiting emigrants from camping in the valley.
26 miles.
7th. Remained this day at the camping ground to write home, there being a post office at the Fort. There are a great many wagons left at this point by many taking to packing. Thousands of dollars worth of property being thrown away, but anything we wish to buy, we have to pay double price for. Fort Laramie is situated at the junction of the Laramie and Platte rivers, and surrounded by high bluffs, being at the base of the Black Hills. It is 630 miles from St. Joseph, and 500 from Council Bluffs. The fort is built mostly of adobies, or unburnt brick, and resembles Fort Kearney. The garrison consists of about 300 men at this time.—The Council Bluffs road comes in at this place, and the soldiers have a ferry across the Platte by which they make considerable money out of the emigrants, which I understand goes into a fund to buy a library for the garrison. The officers have built a hand saw-mill near the fort, although there is no timber nearer than the Black Hills, some 10 miles distant from the fort.
8th. Struck our tents this morning and started on the Black Hills road. The majority of the teams have gone up the Platte bottoms. We have found good grass to-day, abundance of good buffalo grass, the best we have had. Passed the Warm Spring, 14 miles from the fort; saw a flock of mountain sheep, but they were so wild that we could not get a shot at them. Saw an antelope—had a grand chase for him, but he eluded us and got away. We camped at night at a beautiful stream of water in a romantic valley, with plenty of wood and water. One of Loyd's men shot a sage hen, which is a species of grouse somewhat larger than a prairie hen. The flesh of the sage hen is excellent savory eating. We are now in the sage country; it resembles our cultivated sage, but is more bitter, and grows about two feet high; also great abundance of prickly pear, the ground being sometimes covered for acres in one bed. The prickly pear covers the ground here to that extent that we are frequently compelled to clear away with our spades space to erect our tents, it not being particularly agreeable to the seat of honor to sit down on the long sharp thorns. This must be a healthy country, although a barren cold one, being constantly in sight of snow, which can be seen at all times in the year.
26 miles.
9th. The road this morning led up the valley of the creek about six miles, then struck across to another creek eight miles; after leaving the creek we found a spring of good water; five miles from this spring we came to Horse Creek. Here were great numbers camped, being just seventeen miles to the next water, with but little grass on the route. The latter part of the day's drive has been rough and sandy. We passed two men on the creek making pack saddles. They had given away their wagons and thrown away their other property. Wagons, harness, stoves, and all kinds of property we find strewn along the road now. We had a tremendous hail storm this afternoon. The hail fell two inches deep, some of the pieces of which were an inch in diameter. Many who were exposed had their lips and cheeks cut through by the hail. The storm beat our tents down, and we had to crawl under the wagons for shelter from its fury. We got up our tents again after the storm passed over, but had to sleep in three inches depth of mud through the night.
20 miles.
10th. We were camped last night opposite Laramie's Peak, distant about 10 miles. We first saw the Peak at a distance of 70 miles. It is always covered with snow, which makes it a prominent object. We reached La Pointe Creek about noon. Have had a hilly road to-day and poor grass.
26 miles.
11th. Camped last night at the Red Stone Quarries. Here we found the most beautiful, pure specimens of white free stone. It was soft and could be cut readily with a knife. The real free stone is equally soft when it first comes out of the quarry. We have had muddy roads to-day, and a very barren country to travel through, with but little grass. Passed Pearl Creek, where we had another severe hail storm. Saw a fine horse that had been left behind to-day. His feet had become injured for want of shoes.
22 miles.
12th. We saw a good vein of coal to-day, about ten inches thick. It was on the bank of the Platte river, where the water had washed the bank away. I examined it, and found it of good quality. A camp near us lost twenty-six horses and one mule last night, by a stampede. We have heard to-day that they have found sixteen of the horses, and mule. Country barren, and grass poor. Passed the Deer Creek to-day, which is a beautiful stream, with cotton wood trees growing on its banks. Fuller and Ingalls caught a mess of small fish out of it.
22 miles.
13th. Reached the Upper Platte ferry about noon. We found four boats, two belonging to the Mormons, and two to a St. Louis company. The charge for crossing is four dollars per wagon, and 50 cents for a horse or mule. The celebrated Kit Carson is here with a drove of horses and mules for sale. I did not see him, he being out on the hills with stock.—The country is very barren here, the Black Hills reaching down within a few miles of the river, and covered with snow. Crossed the river and camped on a barren hill-side without grass, which was the best spot that we could find.
15 miles.
14th. To-day's drive has been over a desert bearing nothing but wild sage, and crickets which cover the