[From The Sacramento Daily Union, June 17, 1857]

PIONEER STAGECOACH TRIP OVER THE SIERRA NEVADA.

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[FROM OUR SPECIAL CORRESPONDENT.]

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Cary's Mill, Carson Valley.

Friday Evening, June 12, 1857.

            The great feat has at length been accomplished, and the Pioneer Coach, containing eight passengers and carrying five hundred pounds of freight, has passed all the fiery ordeals and arrived safe and sound, without the occurrence of a single accident, in the pleasant valley of Carson.  The traveling time was precisely twenty-seven hours and a quarter, including stoppages for dinner and lunch.  Certainly this will be a startling announcement to the public, according to our estimate of the general opinion in regard to such an undertaking.  According to the survey, we have traveled fifty-nine miles and a half -- but full five miles should be added to this amount, as we departed from the old track and took a more circuitous route for the purpose of avoiding difficult sections.

            The result, then, might be stated as follows: The Pioneer Stage has crossed the Sierra Nevadas, from Placerville to Carson Valley -- a distance of 64 1/2 miles -- in less than twenty-eight hours' time.

            Between the hours of one and three, on Thursday morning, my rest was broken by the loud talk of a couple of sojourners and soldiers in an adjoining chamber -- in in the same chamber with myself, barring a thin screen of modest cloth.  I was considerably surprised at the mild voice of Mr. Platt, which I heard outside my door at three o'clock, when he politely asked me if I would get up.  I think nothing is more pleasant to a man than to be requested to do that which he is bound to do by order.  I note this before I say that I was in excellent humor for rising, although I had been harshly and uncomfortably growling in a half-doze, at my loquacious neighbors, for two hours before.  We had to wait a bit for the Senator at the stage office, but it was not far from three when, with a sober but pleasant determination, we started on our expedition.  We enjoyed a moonlight drive for about an hour, and, as we were passing over a road familiar to Placervilleonians, nothing remarkable was pointed out or commented upon.

            We brought up at Sportsman Hall at 6 o'clock, an hour ahead of our appointment.  While waiting for breakfast we visited the El Dorado Steam Saw Mill, which is located a few rods from the Hall.   It is owned by E. de Arroyave.  The mill is rigged with large double burr saws, which are driven by two heavy engines, a model planing machine worked by the same power.  There was a large supply of logs on hand, which were being rapidly converted into thick plank for flooring purposes.  One of the logs gave the moderate measurement of eighteen feet in circumference.

            Pleasure parties from Placerville have occasionally visited the Hall in coaches, but this side of the station was first traversed in due form by our company.

            About two miles this side of Sportsman Hall we came across an encampment of apostate Mormons, who, though recreant to their former faith, had attested their sincerity at end time by leaving in the hands of the great Brigham their entire earthly possessions.  The Saints in authority, and the Chief Saint needed money so badly as to spoil by his acts the property and favorable spirits of these men.  Their story was that they had been "fleeced," but from the lesson that they had learned they were in no danger of having the wool pulled over their eyes a second time.  They belonged to Woodward's train -- all having families, and signing their names as follows: M. Johnson, S. Slater, J. Jones and J. Wighter.  We met them at about 7 o'clock, just as they were making their toilet.

            Almost two miles on the Virgin road we found Bartlett's Spring -- one of those sources of deliciously cool water which are constantly springing up all along the route, and which form no insignificant items for consideration in connection with the relative value of the various surveys.

            From our starting point to Brockliss' Bridge --- a distance of eighteen miles -- the road is equally good with the road the road from Folsom to Placerville.  Such was the opinion of Cary & Crandall.  From Bartlett's Spring you proceed up at a moderate grade for about half a mile, when you make a descent of about a mile and a half to Brockliss' Bridge.  The proposition is, as I am sure you are well aware, to construct a good, substantial wagon road from this point (Brockliss' Bridge) to Crandall's Camp -- a distance of 15 miles -- which is three or four miles from Strawberry's Valley or five miles west of Slippery Ford.  Brockliss proposes himself to build a coach road from this point up the river to Slippery Ford, for ten or fifteen thousand dollars.  O.M. Taylor proposes to take a quarter section of the road from the tollbridge to Lake Valley for $5,000 -- the road to be ten feet wide, with a sufficient number of turnouts, and not to exceed a grade of five degrees in any part on the line of the river.  Taylor will guarantee the completion of his awarded portion in three month's time.  Brockliss' work will run on Day's Survey at a grade not exceeding four degrees.

            This will save five miles of positive travel, without considering the ascent of Peavine Hill to a summit 4,000 feet above the bridge.

            At the Old Station we found Mr. Woodward and the remnant of his party.  It appeared that he had been detained by the escape of two of his horses, and the illness of one of the sealed.  Woodward stated that he had two families, but that he was never a Mormon in reality -- in other words, he renounced the faith he formerly cherished, but clung with an undiminished, sincere love to his spiritual partners.  He appeared to be an intelligent man, of about 35 years of age.  It is said that he was one of the dignitaries of the Latter-Day Church.  We lunched near a fine spring at the foot of Peavine Hill, the arrival at the summit of which, is as the fulfillment of great hopes and expectations.

            The country looked so wild and uncultivated, that we felt extremely gratified at finding at Cary's Halt, a copy of Stanfield Hall and a Democratic State Journal, containing a report of a debate on that civilizing subject -- swamp and overflowed lands.

            The bottom of the road on this section is rather sandy in its nature; on the opposite side of the hill, the base is composed of what is called "decomposed granite."  We crossed three short patches of snow near the summit, none of which were over a foot in depth, or longer than the coach box.  Even these unobstructing, inoffensive drifts might be speedily dissolved, or entirely prevented, by cutting down the overhanging pines.  The trees by the wayside are loaded with snow until they bend down and discharge their burden, which is then protected by the rays of the sun by the evergreen foliage of the covering limbs.  Hence it is that vast quantities of snow are collected and preserved for the benefit of those who magnify their exploits and measure averages by the greatest exceptions.

            The view from the Summit is very extensive, but the scenery is not as diversified as one would be likely to expect.

            Immediately in front loomed up the snow-capped cone called Round Peak, while on either side you could observe nothing but the ridges of the Sierra Nevadas, thickly covered with trees.  The air was not oppressively hot, or, as was anticipated, very light.  We traveled considerably, in this quarter, on Foot & Walker's line, a formidable opposition to Crandall & Sunderland.  With the sources of wealth, in the shape of immense forests and granite beds which lay along this route waiting to be developed, it is matter for great wonder that the road has not been opened many a day since.

            One of the Directors remarked that he could select a dozen citizens from Sacramento, in whose judgment the public placed confidence, and after taking the trip over the mountains with them, secure such a favorable opinion of the road from them as to effect its immediate improvement and completion.

            We reached Clear Creek Station, at the eastern foot of Peavine Hill, at about five o'clock.  Here we changed our team, and here the party was joined by T. Tracey, Express Agent on the new route, and W. Keyser.  Our camp for the night was at Foster's Halt, near Strawberry Valley, about 23 miles from Carson.  Appetite was good for cold ham and coffee, and we drank each other's good health in some excellent Java, prepared by our skilled cook and captain, Cary.  By descending to the river bed some five or six times in traveling the 17 miles from Brockliss's to Strawberry Valley, we were enabled to judge very fairly of the expense of the graded road.  It is believed that there is but one place that will require any blasting.  A pick, a bar, and a shovel industriously employed by one of our estimable foreigners for a day would, in most sections, tell for many a rod of road.

            The trees in the vicinity of our camp were covered with light, dry moss, which ignites and burns like tinder.

            In less than a minute from the moment of ignition at the foot of a tree, it was all ablaze to the very top.  The sight presented, on firing the surface of a large pine tree, was very splendid -- infinitely superior to any display of artificial fireworks.  By running the torch straight up a crevice in the bark on each side of a tree, you can produce, in the meeting of the flame, something resembling a Drummond light.  A temporary current is formed from two quarters, and the fire leaps over from crevice to crevice -- meeting, passing, and apparently re-passing a dozen times or more, until the moss is eat up, and the bark itself partially destroyed.  We spread our blankets before a glorious fire and indulged in a glorious and refreshing sleep, commencing, we think, at about 9 o'clock in the evening, and ending, we know, at 4 the next morning.  You are well aware that the insurmountable on this road was declared to be Slippery Ford, but that declaration is proven to be a great mistake.  We experienced no great difficulty in making our way across the stream and up the banks.  Several of us did not know that the great deed had been accomplished until the party had reached the summit.  The water at the Ford runs very rapidly, and a portion of the hill slope is nothing but bare rock, from which fact some foolishly concluded that this was a terminus to coach travel.  Even our worthy guide had a whisper of apprehension at this point; but just over this point it was his destiny to speak stout words of congratulation.  It will be recollected that the grading is to commence here immediately.

            We reached the summit of Johnson's Hill, at a little before 11 o'clock on Friday.  Our first desire, of course, was to see Lake Bigler, whose double face we greeted with many an echoing cheer.  It was quite impossible to get an entire view of this body of water from any position that we could reach on the Hill.  We could see the shadow of the mountains distinctly reflected from the surface open to us.  It is fifteen miles, or thereabouts, from the summit to the lower portion of the lake, which is full six miles long.  In the valley below us we saw the Hotel of Smith, and the cabin in which the Mickey Free tragedy was enacted, and which now does service as a stable.  The valley can scarcely be over a mile wide at the terminus of the road from the hill.  From the summit, the greater portion appears fresh and fertile, but we are told by the residents that the soil adhered to but one growth, yielding a scanty return for seed and cultivation.  Indeed, on a near view, the sterility of the land is obvious -- the dwarfish spears of grass resembling the few and far between bristles on the back of a scrofulous pig. 

            The figure is not very nice and poetic, but it is woefully literal.  If you had not been told otherwise, you would suppose that the water which lies to the northeast was divided into two ponds of considerable size, but of very different shape.  One almost feels provoked at the little hill which throws its head up between you and the clear, magnificent natural mirror that you imagine is saucily concealed.  Marking the loftiest eminence within reasonable distance, we clambered up and broke from the tip of a sparkling old boulder several specimens as a witness of our pilgrimage.

            It was thought that as pioneer travelers we did not harm, displayed no offensive egotisms or presumption, by naming the localities along our route destined to be prominent points of indication, but as yet destitute of godfathers.  The coach began sliding down the precipitous hill as Keyser broke a bottle of wine and threw it over the leaders, crying out -- "Nevett's Summit," to which we all replied "Nevett's Summit," and the thing was done -- the mountains groaned and the old man was christened.  The first descent is some forty or fifty feet to a stand of twenty feet in width, which appropriately, but without full ceremony, we called Shortfist Bench.  The road down the hill at present winds but little, and its comparison with the proposed new grade may be apprehended by reflecting on the perpendicular and the hypothenuse.  It is expected that the grading will cost $4,000.

            It is certain that we reached the Valley without receiving any injury, with enlarged ideas of the physical world, with eager appetites, and as we hoped with sweeter dispositions.  We rejoiced on our own account and in behalf of the public that we had no mishap to put on record; our ambition for extensive travel and better wagon roads was excited, and our appetites were properly reproved and silenced on discussing a generous piece of Truckee trout.  As for the improvement in our dispositions, who will dispute the evidence afforded by the ex-assemblyman and professional landlord, whose temper was not soured by seasoning his meat with sugar and his coffee with salt.

            We left Lake Valley at about one o'clock, passing through Grass Valley and Carson Cañon into Carson Valley.  Luther's Pass, Carson Cañon and the intervening Valley may be more particularly noticed on our return.  Here our party is joined by Joseph H. Nevett, C.P. Huntington, J.M.B. Weatherwax, A.H. Hawley, S. Conrad, W.H. Smith, J.M. Dorsey and O.M. Taylor.

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From The Sacramento Daily Union, June 18, 1857

 PIONEER TRIP OVER THE SIERRA NEVADA.

NO. II

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[FROM OUR SPECIAL CORRESPONDENT.]

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            There is a regular evening breeze that sweeps down the cañon, for the especial benefit, no doubt, of the timid travelers who, going and coming, are most likely to make their night's stay at the mill.  Having become somewhat familiar with rough life in the woods, we were rather disturbed than otherwise by the old civilization which we appeared to be approaching.  If we are to record the half of the good deeds done unto us, we shall not forget our hostess at the foot of the cañon, Mrs. Woodford, who set for us just another such a table as city people imitate in the distance.

            Messrs. Nevett and Huntington reported laborers at work on the Big Tree route.  These gentlemen, in company with some two or three others, preceded us over the mountains, traveling from Silver Creek Station to the Cañon on horseback.  They all expressed themselves as agreeably disappointed with the road in every respect, but rather doubtful of the success of their best appeal to the citizens.  It was acknowledged that the people in the three counties interested were sufficiently liberal in spirit, but they failed to direct their serious attention to the subject of the Wagon Road, and hence did not and could not appreciate its vital importance to them individually as business men, and collectively as a community of ambitious, patriotic citizens.  In all such undertakings as this, we have to complain of the fatal short-sightedness of those who count the penny of to-day to lose the bright dollar of to-morrow; but the source of the greatest grief is the indifference of those who, if they could be induced to consider the propositions made, would prove to be among the most powerful friends of the enterprise.  We talked with a pompous gentleman who "had not thought much about the wagon road," and who -- as he sneeringly added -- "did not care much about it," yet this same individual, who is so far above a reflection on the Wagon Road subject, will miss half his present revenue if the line of travel from the valley if the line of travel is diverted to the Big Tree route.  How is it possible for this man, or such a man, to wisely anticipate with liberal donations the increased value of this property and trade, on the construction of a good, easily traversed road between his residence and the settlement to which he looks for patronage.  But the road will be built, and the poor soul will have riches thrust upon him, mourn deeply when his daughter marries a good looking stage-driver.

            Here is a helpful stimulant, surely!  A Mormon friend down the valley, the sole owner of four wives and twenty-four children, will buy his goods for home use and consumption, at Placerville, in case the road is immediately put in order, otherwise he will take a new market.

            After arranging our notes at the house, we march to the barn and, climbing the hay-mow, deposited ourselves for the night, but not to sleep extensively, as our ears were plentifully filled with the stories of our neighbors by the side of us, the stamping of the horses, and the drawing conversation of the poultry beneath us.  We recollect that we managed to doze a little toward morning, from the fact that we found ourselves in a half unconscious state, painfully muttering about the victory that we ought to have achieved to furnish a reasonable cause for the alarming bursts of joy that came from a princely chanticleer, who, strutting across the bin, poured the fullness of his notes into the dull organ of the second sense of our hardware associate.  We were not sorry for this visitation, since it was this man, who, by cracking his jokes, nearly made us fall off the mow with laughter, and break our bones on the roost-poles.  In fact, we passed a jolly night, and the crowing gentleman did nothing more than the fair thing by way of retribution.

            The weather was charming as we started, on Saturday morning, for the Mormon Station, which is distant some 14 or 15 miles from Cary's Mill.  The crops by the road looked very fine -- this including the potatoes, corn and children.  We would remark a meek-looking hut but a mile or two ahead, and wonder if it had an inhabitant, everything seemed so quiet about it.  But our wonder had a new direction presently, for as we approached, the hive swarmed, and we thought of the Wizard's featherbed in a hat.  What obedience to the injunction to multiply!  What power of domestic compression!  What infantry barracks!  What necessity for porridge and birch!   What wailing when the measles and the mumps comes into the neighborhood!  What a revelation bearing such a multitude of living results! 

            But it was our business to produce the sensation, as we were amazed in a dignified manner, while the young 'uns, dressed in a little brief calico, cut fantastic capers before their lowly dwelling, in attestation of their happiness at the unwonted sight of a coach and four.

            Stopping now and then, to exchange a bottle of German soda water for a drink of milk, we drove on until we reached the large, comfortable log house of Mr. Mott, the model farmer of the valley.  

            Some persons, even in this degenerate land, are teetotalers, and drink nothing but water; some take a little gin occasionally, or gin and milk, or gin and eggs, and some mix all the ingredients without partiality; the fact is, each one showed his prejudices in these matters at the farm house of our "hostile" entertainer.  It was a fine addition that our party received here -- nothing less than the person of the venerable patriarch of the Valley himself, of whom an especial word will be given by and by.

            There was a crowd of 50 to 60 men gathered to welcome us at the Mormon Station, and here it should be said that whatever may be related to the narrative calculated to inspire disgust for the doctrines and practices of this people, no class could manifest a more hospitable or kindly disposition towards strangers than was shown to us by the Brighamites of Carson Valley.  We could not but be touched with that nice fear which they exhibited, lest in any little degree we should lack a comfort or convenience which they could afford.

            The Old Station proper is at present uninhabited -- a portion of the building having been converted into a tin-shop.  It was originally constructed so as to afford protection for man and beast       against the Indians, who never had the presumption, if they possessed the desire, to attempt the plundering of the settlement.  The house is a story and a half in hight, with several wings attached, and enclosed by a ten foot log fence, which also contains a two or three acre yard for the cattle.  The fence is constructed by setting pine logs of average size closely together in a trench of five or six feet in depth, filling the earth firmly in around them, and covering the interstices with mud or cement.  It seemed as though a very respectable battle might be made by a few guns before a large host armed by arrows only could obtain much of a chance.  But all apprehension of an Indian war has evidently died away, as the fort has been deserted for pleasant modern tenements, on the opposite side of the road.

            Our appointed host was a Mr. Taylor, a moderate Mormon of only two wives, the second or sealed, having been taken in obedience to the command of an angel, who appeared in a vision to his first partner.  Col. Reese was anxious to get up a dance and secure our company for a pleasant evening's entertainment, but a late ukase from the seat of ecclesiastical empire, seems to have raised a prejudice against the licensing of Gentiles on the footing of the Saints.  Whether the Colonel would have succeeded in his endeavors or not, we cannot say, since it was impossible for us to stay even so long as would have given time for a canvass.

            We stayed at the station four or five hours, partaking of an excellent dinner at Mr. Taylor's.  We were waited upon by the two female partners in the establishment, who appeared to be pretty, pleasant little women, with kind hearts and few thoughts.  So far as good looks were concerned, the sealed attribute did the greatest credit to the taste of our host.  In all this it should be understood that we are violating no domestic sanctity; breaking no express or implied promise.  The Saints open their doors to the Gentiles, allowing them every comment that they choose to make, receiving, it may be, the severest criticism or denunciation, face to face, without exhibiting signs either of displeasure or reform.  Indeed, the Mormons in this quarter seem to be a quiet, cleverly disposed people, managing to live from the results of a little labor, and working never a jot beyond the limit set by immediate necessity.

            We were informed that the valley contained some eight or nine hundred inhabitants, not more than half of whom hold to the Mormon faith.  Measured directly east from the Station, the valley is not far from 90 miles wide.

            Whether the people were enjoying a holiday in honor of our arrival, or not, is undetermined, but no one appeared to have anything more to do than what was required by a polite and ample service to the party.  There are three stores in the place wherein remnants are retained for "cash or produce that will fetch cash."

            Mr. Taylor's nearest neighbor was expected from Salt Lake every day, with a spiritual or sealed wife.           From a conversation which Mr. Cary had with his first wife, we learned that she was sorely grieved on account of the second marriage; nevertheless she believed in its justice and propriety, declaring that she should thereby be elevated higher in the kingdom of glory.  One man has three sisters for his wives; another has two sisters and a cousin.  A few have four spiritual consorts, which is the greatest number sealed to any one saint in this Station.  As we were about leaving, a company of packers came in.  The backs of their faithful animals were horribly galled, yet not unusually so, we judged from the brutal manner in which their sores were treated by the drivers.

            Leaving Messrs. Nevett, Huntington and McCallum, we drove up the valley at 3 o'clock, stopping by invitation at Mr. Mott's, who pressed his entertainment upon us.

                                                                                                                        S.

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From The Sacramento Daily Union, June 19, 1857

PIONEER TRIP OVER THE SIERRA NEVADA.

NO. III

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[FROM OUR SPECIAL CORRESPONDENT.]

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            On our passage up the Valley, we stopped to examine some newly discovered hot springs, which burst out close by the traveled path.  We were seriously told that we could not hold our hand in the water for five minutes, from which we supposed that one minute's experience was not a difficult trial, but the sensation produced by an immersion of our digits for two or three seconds was very much like that experienced when nobody denies that you were smartly burned -- it was a warm joke that was played upon us.  The hot, sulphurous water bubbles up at the foot of the road embankment, on the edge of a little pond, for about ten rods, and then you have springs of the usual quality and temperament.  A capital bathhouse could be erected here, and no doubt one will be built, and prove a paying establishment, as soon as the wagon road is completed.  The atmosphere in the vicinity of these springs is thoroughly impregnated with the odor of the mineral, the water itself having a most infernal taste.

            We heard of a spring situate at the farther end of the Valley, which, on account of its continued roaring and surging, and occasional "blow up," is called the "Steamboat Spring."  According to all the descriptions, the water at this point makes a terrible fuss, getting up out of the ground and settling down, according to the natural law of the level.

            We should have mentioned that the road through the valley winds as close to the mountains on the western side as possible, for reasons both of necessity and convenience.  Through the middle, or near the middle of the valley, runs a strip of black, swampy vegetation, for the greater distance, we believe, quite this way from both forks of the Cañon, which join forces not far from the Station.  Like all other territorial communities of any size, for the protection of each other's property and the preservation of a mutual good understanding among themselves, these people have framed or agreed upon certain laws unto themselves.  Each squatter is entitled to a land claim extending half a mile on the road, and running back "as far as he dares."  As one man's claim may not be laid in front of any timber, the entire forest on the mountain slope is free to any bona fide settler from the Cañon pass to the Station, the presumption always being that every tree felled is to do service to the farms in the neighborhood.  The houses are, without an exception, situated on the western side of the highway, while barns full of plenty take an opposite stand.  It was not far from 5 o'clock when the party arrived at Mr. Mott's house, where we were to make a night's stay.

            We were favored by our host with a short personal sketch, and a long description of his property in the Valley, from which we make a few substantial extracts.

            The old gentleman is rather quiet on the subject of Mormonism, and it was from another source that we learned that he had been of the household of Brighamite faith, which he left with disgust some years ago.  Mr. Mott came into the Valley from Salt Lake City, in 1853, and stopped, as he supposed temporarily, at the little cabin of his son, which is connected with his present more commodious dwelling.  He was so favorably impressed with the country after a winter's residence, that he concluded to make a permanent settlement on the spot.  With moderate means he commenced "encouraging nature," gradually extending his enclosures and multiplying his cereal crops.  The results of his labor as at present seen and known of all men, is given as follows:  He has enclosed by four and a half miles of excellent board fence, near five hundred acres of land.  Separate from this he has an enclosed pasture lot of a hundred acres, with about seventy-five acres under the plow.  A "pasture lot" in the Valley signifies a totally different piece of real estate from that which goes by the same name in New England, and indeed in many portions of California.

            The hog pasture of our host is thick with stout clover of such hight as to completely conceal a sizable porker at the distance of a few rods.  During the warm season the gentlemen grunters roam at liberty through this luxurious valley, waddling back to their old quarters in a condition for market.  Mr. Mott milks over forty cows, manufacturing both butter and cheese, the one more or less, according to the demand.  There is 280 head of cattle and horses on the farm.  One hundred tons of hay have been cut on the premises, the ratio of which to the possible harvest will not be calculated for many a year.  There is a large barn, the exact dimensions of which we neglected to take.  It must be something over a hundred feet in the clear.  In the opinion of our host and his neighbors, it is a moderate estimate that places the value of this farm at $25,000, which fixes the profits of four years of the easy labor of an old man and two boys at not less than $20,000.

            Some persons in the mines have "made their pile" more rapidly than our friend Mott, but his days of fortune have been as quiet as those of any other portion of his life, enjoying an abundance of the kindly fruits of the earth in their season, while an annual piece beyond his utmost wants has afforded a very respectable gain.  As we listened to the old man's story we could not but believe that he had reached a practical conclusion in the philosophy of being, realizing that this hour we live, and need expect no more intense life in the future.  He was hopeful, not fretfully envious of what a day might bring forth, and verily, through the soul of such a man flows the river of peace.

            During the evening, our company was visited by Wm. Thorington, familiarly and almost exclusively known as "Lucky Bill."  Lucky Bill is a "character," quite by himself.  He is an original; one of those geniuses who might have rendered a great and healthy service to society, if in his early days his attention had been turned to something besides the speedy consumption of bad whiskey.  The influence of such a man is necessarily very extensive the one way or the other; his ready wit and physical power during his arguments sharp home to his neighbor's consternation.  Why, it is Lucky Bill who furnishes the odd household phrases and by-words of the community in which he resides -- in his mint are coined the broadest oaths of the country.  The nature of such a person abhors a secret, and he impersonates his own style.  Everything is developed up to the second, and when he dies he leaves no will.  If any devilish idea should lay behind, he shrieks out "Time," and you get a hint of the child that might have been.  There is no malice in his nature, as all his gifts are spent, good and bad, as fast as they come.  The act and word is exhaustive -- the light of each day burns to the socket.  Yet such men are very shallow at best, as those must be whose whole soul can walk out in a sentence.  Lucky Bill gave us a great deal of theory, and killed the fatted calf for the "Prodigal Pioneer."

            We slept profoundly Saturday night, and rose at five on the Sabbath, showing good consciences and habits.  Our entertainer did not like to be thanked for his courtesy and liberality, not on account of any false delicacy, but because, like Dr. Curtis, at the other end of the route, he appreciated the personal benefit he was to reap from the road when completed.  "Never mind, boys, you're welcome to my free hostile reception this time, but look out! -- when you come again, I'll make you smart for it."

              We stopped at Lucky Bill's to take a morsel of veal on board, and with slow travel reached Cary's mill by ten o'clock.  We were informed that there was to be a mule race after service at the Mormon Station, and on condemning the immorality of the proceeding, we met with quotations from Scripture, Jo Smith, Brigham and Dr. Bellows.  They are a well read people in the Valley, and they read on purpose.

            The mode of irrigation adopted here is apparently easy, though as it is apt to go beyond the sufficient, it requires considerable care and attention.  The water is led from a spring at the foot of the mountains to one of the west end corners of the field, thence down by the road-side to the end of a ranch, Where B. commences his ditch, and so the stream continues until its course is checking by an opposing inclination, where it is turned off towards one of the forks of the cañon.  The rows of corn or potatoes are in the first direction of the stream, pointing to the western side of the Valley.  The spaces between the hills as they run, are perhaps wider than usual, forming, as they do, a passage for the water which is introduced in the same manner in which melted iron from the furnace is let into bar moulds.

            The danger to be apprehended is this kind of irrigation, the necessity for great watchfulness whilst the corn is taking its morning or evening bath, will be readily understood.  The earth will wash away more or less in any case, and where the slope of the field is from a high angle, it takes but a little water to lay the roots naked to the scorching rays of the sun.  That this process answers, is determined, but it is exceedingly imperfect when compared with many other substitutes for a heavenly shower.

            At present the large section appropriated by each hill, is not worth considering, but it will make an argument as the population and market increases.  When the water is turned free from the rows, the earth between bakes and cracks under the rays of the sun.  Besides, the quenching of the thirst of the roots cannot always prevent the scorching and dwarfage of the leaf and fruit.

            We were shown the product of one hill of potatoes, the children of one father, which, by number, went to prove the prevalence of polygamy in the vegetable kingdom!

            We started from Cary's mill at 10 1/2 o'clock, and proceeded up the cañon, accompanied by Wm. Murdoch, best described as an old defender of the faith, a Nauvoo soldier, a husband to four women, and a father of seven children, the oldest of whom is four years of age.

            This "Saint," who rejoices in the anticipation of an Abrahamic posterity was very ready to do battle in any form against the Gentiles.  He is (according to belief,) one of the young men of whom it was prophesied that they should "dream dreams."  Such dreams!  His faith was complex, but implicit, ascending as it were through nature and the creator to Joe Smith.  He has Smith and Brigham's measure of Scripture by heart, and he brought each text in regular order to the wheel several times before our conversation closed.  His memory run in a circle, and it was evident that to stand before him, you must learn his alphabet.  Jos. Smith was a prophet greater than Christ, and his mantle had fallen fitly upon Brigham, who was greater than Smith.  True, what Brigham had done for his people was very little, but what he had intended to do was best known to himself.

            The road through the cañon is, for the most part, very good, far exceeding our expectations.  The fact is, we were agreeably disappointed all along the route, for the agony which many declared we should suffer had convinced us of the necessity of stout hearts for the journey, but if we succeeded in building up any extraordinary resolution, it was not of service.  Looking down through Hope Valley, we observed large quantities of snow on the face of the mountains presented.  We reached Smith's Hotel by noon, Where we expected to meet Messrs. Nevett, Huntington and McCallum, , but as they did not make their appearance in proper season, we continued our day's travel, encamping for the night at Crandall's blacksmith shop near Slippery Ford.  Changing our team at Silver Creek Station on Monday morning, we drove into Placerville by half-past four.

                                                                                                                        S.