class="x-ebookmaker-pageno" title="[Pg 41]"/>thankful if they can maintain it. Distance, twenty-three miles.

May 28.

After proceeding a couple of miles, we came to an Indian encampment and also a place where blacksmithing was done, and on a little further we ascended the bluffs and traveled over a level, high country and came to the Platte again in the afternoon and encamped at night in the valley of that stream. This morning we had the first view of the Rocky Mountains, 150 miles distant. Laramie Peak looks like a vast sugar loaf. We see a little timber today by the Platte, such as cedar, pine and poplar. Day warm, and sand deep. Distance, twenty-five miles.

May 29.

After traveling five miles, we came to a trading place, which was occupied by some half dozen men and some thirty or forty Sioux Indians. They had clothing, but no provisions, which were most sought by the emigrants. This place is within twenty miles of Fort Laramie, and we have been so successful in getting over the ground that we feel no small degree of gratification. At three o'clock we came to Laramie River and forded it and encamped about one half mile beyond by the road opposite the Fort, which is a mile or more to the south of it. In consequence of the lateness of our arrival and the determination of our party to proceed early in the morning, I could not find time to visit it, but was compelled to satisfy my curiosity at a distance. From where I now am I can see several respectable looking buildings, looking the most like civilization of anything that I have seen since I left Weston. Laramie River has the same characteristics as the Platte, only much smaller, and about four feet deep where we forded it. A large number of emigrants change their mode of travel at this place—from wagons to packing—for the purpose of hastening their arrival in the gold regions. In doing this, some of them abandon much property, such as guns, tools, bedding, clothing, and more especially wagons and harness. I was told last evening that two men had just thrown their rifles into the Platte, having tried to sell them to no purpose, and being determined that no one should profit by the loss. Good wagons can be bought for a mere trifle, and many of them can be had for nothing. An excellent one was sold here yesterday at $7 and with it a lot of other valuables thrown into the bargain. Near us in this valley there is a very large number of emigrants encamped, stopping for the purpose of some business and seeing the Fort. I should think there were about 500 wagons and 2,000 men. Provisions, biscuit and bacon can be obtained at the Fort in small quantities by those who are in need of them, sufficient to last them to Salt Lake. Biscuit, $14 per pound. Though we are on the first part of our journey, we see many things left by the way, but everything of any value is examined and perhaps taken a short distance by those who come after, when they in turn cast them away; and others still encumber themselves as before. I have seen men take hold of a log chain and drag it for several rods, knowing at the same time that they could not take it with them; but having large acquisitiveness, they would cling to it from the force of habit, or in hopes that some lucky circumstance would turn up that would enable them to sell it. A man was at our camp this morning who had a rifle, a hatchet, and a shovel, which he offered to sell for two dollars, but could not, so he gave the rifle to one of our party and took the rest along. The soil is poor and sandy here and the grass short and dry. Distance, twenty-five miles.

May 30.

At three o'clock this morning we were under way and continued up the Platte, and having gone sixteen miles by two o'clock, we stopped for the night, our cattle being much in need of feed and rest, having traveled hard and found but little feed in the vicinity of the Fort. Some three miles before we stopped we left the river and ascended the tableland, passing over innumerable little knobs, upon which is scattered a little cedar and pine. In a ravine near the camp is an excellent spring of water and tolerably good grass. In the afternoon a dark cloud arose in the west, and soon came thunder and lightning and rain; and now while I am writing it is dancing upon our tent in a fine manner—a manner peculiar to this country. At length the clouds cleared away and our party concluded to proceed a few miles further. Accordingly, we collected our cattle, yoked them, and drove about five miles further. In the afternoon we passed some soldiers who were engaged in burning lime for the Fort. One of them wanted to buy liquor; said he had that day offered $16 per gallon for brandy to an emigrant but could not get it. One of our company sold him a drink of whiskey for fifty cents. Distance, twenty-one miles.

May 31.

Going two miles this morning, we came to a little stream called the Little Cottonweed. Our trail led over a hilly country, presenting every variety of scenery, from the level plain to the bold bluffs, with here a few shrubs of pine and cedar. These evergreens are the only objects generally which enliven the plains in which they are found, as they usually grow in the moist barrens and indescribable places, deep ravines and nearly naked rocks. At length we have come into the region of wild sage so well known and so much hated by the emigrant, as it grows in the most inhospitable regions. It is a low, bushy shrub, with thick and light-colored leaves, resembling to some extent the leaf of the cultivated sage and exhaling a similar scent. Our road is very circuitous. We have, in a few hours, traveled toward every point of the compass. Laramie Peak, which we first saw from Scotts Bluffs, is still in sight, several miles to the south of us. Its snow-capped summit presents a strong contrast to the green hill and prairie, which are just putting on their summer apparel. Today we swapped our wagon for one we found abandoned by the road. We made a good trade. Distance, twenty-one miles.

June 1.

Still among the hills. In the afternoon over a high, level plain. Stopped at night by a little stream, a short distance from the Blue Mountain. Day fine. Distance, twenty-five miles.

June 2.

Today we moved on till we came to a little stream about four miles from our last night's stopping-place. One mile from where we stopped, we crossed a little stream called Mountain Blue. We have not found a more beautiful place than where we stopped today—plenty of wood, water and grass. Day fine; health good. There is a novel feature in this region in the existence of a red sand which gives to the prospect a very picturesque character. I suppose it was caused by volcanic fires, which burned perhaps centuries ago. A soft quality of marble also abounds here, and many of our party have smoothed pieces of it and written or carved their names, dates, and other laconic bits of news upon them for their friends behind them. I cut a level surface upon a piece and wrote thus: "C. W. Smith, Centreville, Indiana. 'On the night's Plutonian shore.' June 2, 1850." The country over which we are passing is becoming very rocky and broken, and I am surprised that we can pass over it with so little difficulty. Sometimes we pass along an extensive range of hills, sometimes through a deep gorge or dry-bed of a stream, and then again winding along a serpentine track, thus ever changing from scene to scene, deriving new interest from them all and learning each day something more of the many wonders of nature. Distance, four miles.

June 3.

Having