# Oregon Historical Quarterly/Volume 3/Across the Continent Seventy Years Ago

ACROSS THE CONTINENT SEVENTY YEARS AGO.
Extracts from the journal of John Ball of his trip across the Rocky Mountains, and his life in Oregon, compiled by his daughter.
John Ball was the youngest of ten children born on Tenny's Hill, Hebron, Grafton County, New Hampshire, November 12, 1794. His father, Nathaniel Ball, whose ancestors came from England, settled in the county of Worcester, Massachusetts.
The subject of this sketch was born in a log cabin, and his earliest recollection was the building of a frame house, into which the family moved when he was but three years old. His childhood was spent on this farm. Of school he had but very little before he was twenty years old. Being anxious for an education, after much urging, his father consented to his leaving home. In 1814 he was sent to a clergyman in Groton, the next town. Thence he went to Salisbury Academy, and entered Dartmouth College in 1816, spending his summer vacation on the farm, and teaching what he could during the winters. He was graduated in 1820. The late George P. Marsh was a classmate.
After graduating he went to Lansingburgh, New York, where his youngest sister (the late Mrs. Deborah Powers) lived, and studied law, teaching school to meet necessary expenses. In 1822 he fancied he could better himself, and took passage from New York City for Darien, Georgia. Arriving off the coast of that state, a violent storm came on, and in attempting to reach an "inland' passage by St. Catherine's Sound the vessel grounded on a bar five ​miles from land, causing a complete wreck. This happened after dark, but all stuck to the ship until daybreak, as the wind was blowing a gale. All were saved but two negroes, who would not leave the ship. The others were picked up by a vessel bound for Darien. At Darien he read law and taught school. After six months he gladly returned north and resumed his studies in Lansingburgh.
In the summer of 1824 he was examined by the supreme court in session at Utica, New York, and was admitted as an attorney at law. The celebrated Aaron Burr was present as court counsel. In 1827 he was elected justice of the peace of Rensselaer County, holding that office and practicing law until 1829, when the sudden death of his brother-in-law, Mr. Wm. Powers, June 24, 1829, who had just started in the floor oilcloth manufacturing business, obliged him to close his office in order to relieve his sister in trouble and settle Mr. Powers' estate. This he did in two and one half years, having paid up all the debts of nearly $10,000. Knowing that his sister was now well provided for, Mr. Ball left Lansingburgh January 1, 1832, to join Capt. N. J. Wyeth's expedition to Oregon, at Baltimore. A trip of this kind had been one of the dreams of his life.
One of the parties of the Lewis and Clark expedition in 1803-6 was John Ordway, a neighbor of his father, who filled his youthful imagination by the stories he told. He had been in correspondence with Captain Wyeth of Boston, whom he had learned was arranging to journey to Oregon by land. On his way to Baltimore he stopped in New York and met a young man named J. Sinclair, who went with him to Oregon. He called on Ramsey Crooks, one of the men in John Jacob Astor's fur enterprise. At Washington he met General Ashley, who carried on the first fur trade across the plains. General Ashley was then a member of congress from Missouri. Mr. Ball ​called at the White House to see General Jackson, of whom he was a great admirer. The story of this journey is perhaps best and most succinctly told by extracts from Mr. Ball's journal, which opens as follows:
   We went by railroad to Frederick, sixty miles over the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad by horse power. This was then the longest railroad in the country. It had been built at enormous expense, and was constructed on a plan very unlike the present. A flat iron rail was used and was riveted onto granite blocks or stringers. The winter frost had so displaced these blocks that it was very rough. The railroad cuts gave a fresh and fine view of the geology of the country; the granite, the strata of marble of the BJue Ridge, and the Alleghany sandstone.
   We arrived at Frederick March 29. From there we walked, having a wagon for our baggage, and then we commenced our camplife. We pitched our tents by the roadside, and built fires to cook by. So we continued on the National road to Brownsville, on the Monongahela River. There we took a steamboat for Pittsburgh, then a small village of smoke and dirt. April 8 we took a steamboat, "The Freeman," down the Ohio River to Saint Louis, Missouri. We stopped at Cincinnati April 12 for a day. It was a mere village, the buildings being of wood and of no great pretensions. The river had been so high that it had flooded the village, doing much damage. We passed Marietta, distinguished for its mounds, resembling modern fortifications, but doubtless the work of aborigines, now extinct. There was, too, a creek about a hundred miles from Pittsburgh, called "Seneka Oil Creek," which would blaze on the application of a match.
   Captain Wyeth lessened our expenses (or tried to) by bargaining with the captain of the steamboat, that we should assist in helping bring wood on the boat. The sail from Cincinnati to Saint Louis was interesting, and passing the falls or rapids of the Ohio in the vicinity of Louisville was especially exciting. We arrived at Saint Louis April 18, 1832. Here we hoped to meet some of the traders who were going west on their annual trip, and called on Mr. Mackenzie, one of ​the fur traders, who afterwards sold his interest to William Sublette. He informed us that Mr. Sublette expected to start from Lexington, Missouri, about May 1. Mr. Mackenzie kindly arranged for us to go up the Missouri River on the steamboat "Otto," which went up two hundred and sixty miles. As we steamed away from Saint Louis we passed a company of soldiers sailing up the Mississippi on their way to fight the Black Hawk Indians, where Chicago now stands. After we had gone about one hundred miles up the Missouri we struck a big sand bar, extending across the river. Our boat drew six feet of water and here was but three feet. The boat could do nothing except keep her nose in the sand bar and wait until the sand had washed away. This was pretty tedious and most of us got tired, and going ashore, walked on to Lexington, reaching there before the boat did. When we stopped for food or lodging we were hospitably received and fed.
An extract from a letter of his printed in the New Hampshire Statesman from Lexington, gives Mr. Ball's impression of Missouri at that early date:
   LEXINGTON, Missouri, April 29, 1832.
   There is not a sufficient supply of good water, nor should I think it very healthy from the circumstances of the people. The bed of the Missouri is a quicksand, mixed with soil. The water is the color of well-creamed coffee. After drinking it and shutting the mouth one can feel the grit. But still thus it flows eternally on at four knots per hour.
The narrative is again taken from Mr. Ball's journal:
   We were kept in strict military order, and marched double file. Those first ready took their places next to the commander. We always camped in the form of a hollow square, making a river or stream the fourth side. The horses were hobbled (fore feet tied) and turned out of camp to feed. When brought into camp at night they were left hobbled, and were tied to stakes driven close to the ground, giving each horse as much room as could be spared him within the square. The watch changed every four hours. If found asleep, the watch was obliged to walk the next day for punishment. Captain Sublette's camp calls were as follows: "Catch up; catch up," which was at sunset. Then each man brought his horses into camp. At dawn the call was "Turn out; turn out," and then horses were turned out of camp to feed, while we breakfasted. Then the horses were saddled and packed. At noon a stop was always made for half an hour. The horses were unpacked to rest them, each horse carried one hundred and eighty pounds. Not being able to trot with this load, they soon formed the habit of walking fast.
   There was so little dew or rain that we did not need our tents, so we slept on the ground wrapped in our blankets, our saddles for pillows. I always wrapped myself first in my camlet cloak, pulling the cape over my head to shut off the wind or moon. This was our camp routine until we reached the Rocky Mountains.
   May 12—Left Independence, traveling west on the Santa Fe road. The fifteenth we left Santa Fe trail, going northwest to the Kansas ​River to a government agency there. The country was mostly hilly, the hills being of shell-filled sandstone and boulders of quartz and granite. The last white man we saw was a blacksmith for the Indians, who had his smithy on the Kansas, near where Lawrence now is.
   We passed an Indian village, which was entirely deserted, as all had gone buffalo hunting. The Indians always go out for buffalo once a year and bring home the meat to dry for winter. Their wigwams were made by sticking poles in the ground in circular form, covering the whole with buffalo skins, and leaving an opening at the top for the smoke to get out. Here we found game and honey in abundance, but no Indians.
   May 21—We encamped on a branch of the Kansas called the Big Blue, which we crossed the next day and passed Captain Bonneville's party on a trading excursion by wagon. We stopped a few moments to salute and passed on. The next day we passed another Indian village, probably winter quarters. There were holes dug in the ground some five or six feet deep and covered with split plank or brush, so making warm quarters in severe weather. But this, too, was deserted. We kept up the waters of the Blue to its source, and thence reached the Platte in one day's march of twenty-five miles over barren, dry prairie.
   We found no timber of any amount after leaving the waters of the Blue. We could not carry our percussion caps on our guns for fear of discharging them, the air was so very dry. We reached the Platte opposite a big island, probably Grand Island, on May 28, and continued up the Platte a hundred and sixty-five miles to junction of the forks, which we reached June 2.
   The Platte is a broad, turbulent stream and warm. Its bed is a mile or two wide. Here we saw the first buffalo and ate our last meal of packed provisions.
   There was a great deal of grumbling among Captain Wyeth's men. Some deserted and turned back. We all felt gnawings of hunger and were very thirsty. The warm water of the Platte was not refreshing. June 3 we saw a frightful drove of buffalo appearing as far as the eye could reach, as if the ground was a sea of them. Such armies of them see and fear nothing. Sublette's men killed ten or twelve, of which we had only two. The others the wolves carried off.
   The warm water of the Platte caused diarrhoea. Dr. Jacob Wyeth, the captain's brother, was quite ill. But for the guidance of Captain Sublette we must have perished for the want of subsistence in this desert of the Missouri.
   June 4—We crossed the south branch after we had gone some fifty miles from the forks, and a short ride of ten miles over the bluffs brought us to the North Platte. There was little timber along this stream. We continued up this river two hundred and eighty-seven ​miles. June 8 we killed some more buffalo as they came out of the water. There was great sameness of the scenery, and we passed many trails but saw no Indians yet.
   June 10—We saw ahead of us a bio: castle on a small mountain. As we approached it, it appeared like a big tower of sandstone standingalone. It was called the "Chimney Rock," and is probably three hundred feet high. On the south side of the Platte were immense herds of buffalo.
   June 12—We arrived at the Laramie Fork of the Platte. It was high, cold, and rapid, and comes from the mountains of the same name. The banks of this stream were covered with willows. Here we made a halt to make "bull boats "and rafts to carry ourselves and goods across.
   A "bull boat" is made of willow branches twelve or fourteen feet long, each about one and one half inches at the butt end. These ends were fixed in the ground in converging- rows at proper distances from each other, and as they approached nearer the ends the branches were brought nearer together so as to form something like a bow. The ends of the whole were brought together and bound firmly together like ribs of a great basket; and then they took other twigs of willow and wove them into those stuck in the ground so as to make a sort of firm, long, huge basket. After this was completed they sewed together a number of buffalo skins and with them covered the whole; and after the different parts had been trimmed off smooth, a slow fire was made under the "bull boat," taking care to dry the skins moderately; and as they gradually dried and acquired a due degree of heat they rubbed buffalo tallow all over the outside of it so as to allow it to enter into all the seams of the concern, now no longer a willow basket. As the melted tallow ran down into every seam, hole, and crevice, it cooled into a firm body, capable of resisting the water and bearing a considerable blow without damage. Then the willow-ribbed buffalo skin tallowed vehicle was carefully pulled from the ground behold! a boat, capable of transporting men, horses, and goods over a pretty strong current.
   At the sight of it we Yankees all burst into a loud laugh, whether from surprise or pleasure I do not know. Captain Wyeth made a raft against the advice of Captain Sublette, who did not believe the ropes strong enough to stand against the current. However, Captain Wyeth was not a man easily diverted by the advice of others.
   We fixed a rope to our raft and with some difficulty got the other end across the river by a man swimming with the rope in his mouth. He fastened the rope to a tree, and we loaded our raft with our anvil, large vise, and other valuable articles belonging to the smithery, bar iron, steel traps, and alas! a cask of powder and a small number of valuable articles. When we got about halfway over the rope broke ​and the raft caught under the limbs of a partly submerged tree and it tipped on one side, so we lost our iron articles and many of our percussion caps, as well as our powder, and our other goods were damaged. This was a very serious and absolutely irreparable loss.
   June 15—We came to the Black Hills, so called because of the thick growth of cedar. Here, also, we found red sandstone. It was a region of rattlesnakes and large fierce bears. Some of the best hunters of Captain Sublette's party shot one five or six times before they killed him. Snow was seen on the mountains, although the middle of June. We crossed a spur of these mountains while the main range lay away to the north.
   June 16—It rained half a day. This is the first rain we have had. Here we took what was afterwards known as the "Laramie Pass."
   June 18—We crossed the Platte, where it comes from the south. Along the river were beautiful flowers. We again used our "bull boats." After crossing we turned north five miles and then struck across a broken, hilly plain on both sides of the river, with no vegetation but sagebrush, grease brush, and wormwood. From an eminence we got our first view of the craggy granite peaks of Wind River Mountains.
   June 23—We reached the Sweetwater, traveling through a naked, bleak country, the bare granite rocks lifting their craggy heads above the sea of sand and sandstone. There was no timber even on the river, but much snow on the mountains. At noon we reached "Independence Rock." It is like a big bowl turned upside down; in size about equal to two meeting houses of the old New England style. We encamped here. There being no timber in this valley, we had to dry buffalo dung or chips, as they are called, to use as fuel to cook by. This beautiful, clear, cool stream was a luxury, and a pleasant remedy for our sick. We wound our way as best we could through this pleasant valley, until the Sweetwater became a mere rivulet that one could step across. We crossed several snowdrifts on the way.
   June 27—We encamped on the southeast foothills of the Wind River Mountains, and the last branch of the Sweetwater, and June 28 found us on the great watershed between the Atlantic and Pacific oceans. It was on open prairie, with ranges of mountains on the north and immense prairies on the south. This is the celebrated South Pass, and from it the waters flow into the Gulf of Mexico and Gulf of California. On this extensive prairie buffalo are feeding by the hundred thousands. We continued traveling northwest, as near the foot of these mountains traveling was good.
   June 30—We crossed a number of tributaries of the Colorado River.
   July 2—Was cold. Our camp was fired on about midnight. Unperceived by the guards, the Indians approached the camp, gave their ​whoop and fired with guns and arrows. They so frightened our horses that they broke loose and rushed out of camp. We were instantly on our feet (we always slept with our guns by our side). The Indians were not to be found. We collected our horses and retied them, laid down, and went to sleep again. The Indians had accomplished what they had aimed at, having stolen a dozen of our best horses. They were supposed to be "Blackfeet."
   July 3—We followed up one of the branches of the Colorado and camped on Bull Creek.
   July 4—It rained, snowed, and hailed. We passed the divide of the Columbia. The sand, limestone soil seemed good. Large snowcapped mountains were seen in the north, which we afterwards learned were the "Trois Teton," fifteen thousand feet high. The only way I had to ascertain our altitude was by the temperature of boiling water by my thermometer, which I made, allowing five hundred and thirty feet to a degree, eight thousand four hundred and eighty feet. The days were very hot, thermometer 80°, and the nights cold, even freezing.
   It is said by the Indians that the Lewis River rises in the ' Trois Teton "in a lake.
   Our way was becoming difficult. Our horses were worn out, and the men, although in a feeble condition, were compelled to walk. Food, too, became scarce. We met no more buffalo, but, fortunately, found some game of other kinds, and nothing came amiss except snakes.
   Vegetation became better as we advanced, and we found some strawberries. On July 6 we arrived at the main branch of the Lewis River, Henry's Fork, coming from the northeast. We crossed its rapid current and came upon high ridges clothed with handsome pines and snowdrifts.
   July 9—We met a party of Sublette's mountain trappers, who appeared liberal in their expenditures for their new bought luxuries, and who also seemed to be generally well satisfied with their wild life.
   At the rendezvous at Pierre's Hole were also the Nez Perces and Flatheaded Indians, who appeared in their dress and person decent and interesting. They have many horses. Men, women, and children ride well. They all ride astride and mount from the right side. They encamp in buffalo skin lodges, which they always carry with them. The whites often adopt many of their manners, and often intermarry.
   Reached the rendezvous that night. These Indians were decidedly honest and friendly. There were also some of the traders and trappers of the American Fur Company there. The Indians sold us fresh ponies or exchanged our lean ones for fresh ones. The full price of a pony was a blanket and a cheap knife. So we, as well as they, were supplied with what was needed.
   ​These mountain ponies are of Arabian stock, brought over by the early Spaniards into Mexico. They are light and fleet and sure of foot. It is a grand sight to see a herd of them feeding with a mounted guard on their beautiful prairies. The guard's duty is to run them into camp if attacked by the Blackfeet, in whose country we were.
   Here at Pierre's Hole (where Mr. Sublette met his party of trappers), as this valley is called, there are mountains on all sides, covered with snow. The water in the creek was 40 F. There was plenty of timber and good feed for the horses. I felt debilitated and tired from the long journey, but the Indians had plenty of dried buffalo meat and some roots. We ate the meat, lean and fat, like bread and cheese. I never witnessed so great a change among men as I witnessed here in a few days with plenty to eat and good water to drink. We were a mixed company, two hundred whites and as many Indians, and a social time we had in telling our varied experiences.
   There is a mongrel language between the Indians and traders composed of French and English. A hog goes by the French name and birds are designated by their cries, etc.
   Here we tested the honesty of the Indians. When we had bought a horse, and it had got away with theirs, they would bring it back time and time again. The Flathead chief would often mount his pony in the evening and give his people a lecture on morals and honesty. Here we were thousands of miles away from white settlement, and these were the first Indians we had really seen. Their dress was of a frock and leggings of dressed deerskins. A well dressed buffalo skin with the hair on for a blanket to ride on or to sleep in each Indian had with him. The frocks of the women were longer than the men. Both long and short were ornamented with fringe of skin, sometimes shells and feathers, and beads in their dress and hair. These mountain women are very bashful, blushing if looked at. They consider it an honor to be married to a white man, but it must be for life, or beware. Some of the men were very eager for vegetable food.
   There were rounded stones in this valley, containing much quartz, and a fine gray sandstone.
   July 14—We had rested here for five days, and oh! such a good rest. Captain Sublette had reached his journey's end. All but twelve of Wyeth's men had concluded to return East with Captain Sublette. We were anxious to go farther, even to the Pacific.
   July 16—We twelve moved our camp up the creek towards Vanderburgh, eight miles, with Mr. Frap and Milton Sublette, a brother of Capt. William Sublette, and with twenty-two of their trappers and sixteen independent trappers, including some half-breeds and Indians, hoping to come out somewhere all right. Mr. Frap took the lead. We had a quiet night.
   ​On the following morning, just as we had packed, ready for march, we saw a band of Indians in the direction in which we were to go. Mr. Prap sent an Indian and a half-breed named Antoine to meet them. As they approached, they discovered the Indians were Blackfeet. The chief left the party and came out in a friendly way to meet Antoine and his Indian companion. But Antoine's father had been killed by the Blackfeet: he was going to have his revenge then and there. So he said to the Indian "I'll appear friendly when we meet, but you watch your chance and shoot him." This he did. Antoine caught his robe or blanket of blue or red, turned and fled to camp. The Blackfeet fired after him, and as he rode into camp he said: "They were Blackfeet. We killed their chief. Here is his robe." We, to our dismay, expected a battle, which we did not like. An express was sent back to Captain Sublette's camp to tell the state of affairs and ask assistance.
   The whites and Indians returned in great numbers, Captain Sublette going against the Blackfeet on his own account. The Blackfeet by this time had built a breastwork by the creek, taking their women and horses inside with them.
   We had hastily thrown up a breastwork of our saddles. There was a hard fight until sunset. The Indians always lay down on their backs while loading their guns, and sometimes fire lying down The Indians considered the leaden bullet a sort of thunder and lightening death, and the whites did not think the barbed arrows any better. At sundown we retired and encamped. A Mr. Sinclair died of his wounds that night. During the battle I was left in charge of the horses and camp and took care of the wounded.
   The next night we returned to the rendezvous, and in the horse pen buried Mr. Sinclair. Mr. Wm. Sublette was wounded. There were eight whites and as many friendly Indians killed, and some others wounded. After breakfast we visited the enemy's camp and found some twenty-five dead horses and two dead women. There were ten scalps taken by our Indians from the Blackfeet. We concluded that the reason they had left their dead was because there was not enough of them left to carry them off.
   This affair detained us three days. We buried all the dead in the horse pen, as the ground was so well trodden they couldn't be found. They would, we knew, be sought for their scalps.
   The wounded were carried on stretchers to Sublette's camp. A bier was made by suspending trees covered with blankets between two horses, one in front of the other. July 24 We quit camp, going south by the battle ground of the eighteenth; got but ten miles along. The next day was showery, but ​we traveled to the south. Vegetation was forward, especially flax and currants of an orange color.
   July 26—We crossed the Lewis River in the bull boat, where Fort Hall now is. Three of the men left us here to trap alone. The white and variegated marble and melted rock showed the effects of volcanic action. The vegetation was diversified and timber of various kinds grew in abundance. We had a little rain. Traveling to the southwest we crossed several creeks with volcanic bluffs on either side of blacksmith-cinder-like rocks, often pentagonal in form, although they had not lost their stratification. In examining the rocks, was nearly bitten by a rattlesnake.
   We found many berries and currants, red and black, also orange in color. On the twenty-eighth passed Gray's Fork to Gray's Hole. The Trois Tetons were still in sight to the northeast. Grass was good, the buffalo fat, and we staid in camp two days drying meat. We then crossed Blackfoot Creek to a hilly and wooded country with high basaltic rocks in perfect pentagonal form.
   August 1—Mrs. Milton Sublette (a squaw) had a child, and the next day she mounted her horse, the babe was put in a basket feet down and hung on the pommel of her saddle, and she rode fifteen miles that day. Mrs. Sublette also had a child about three years of age who rode a gentle pony. The child was so fastened on by blankets as to keep it upright, and the pony followed the train with loose horses, never straying far with its charge. The thermometer fell to 20 F. We traveled to the southeast, crossing the Blackfoot to a branch of the Port Neuf, over an extensive prairie, which they say extends to Bear River of the Salt Lake country, a hundred miles distant.
   August 5—In camp drying more meat. Saw a white wolf and some crows eating together on a buffalo carcass. There are two kinds of wolves here, that make the nights hideous. We traveled down the Port Neuf to the south eighteen miles, crossed it, and encamped on a branch for two days.
   August 11—We started to the west, encamped on a small creek, and the next day continued southwest on same creek. Here the sixteen independent trappers quit us, going south into California.
   August 13—We traveled west northwest over two ridges, the first limestone, the second volcanic, and came in view of the Lewis River at the American Falls. The course of the river is nearly west. Extensive plains stretched away to the north, and a far-off snow-clad mountain range was seen. Here I lost my pocket thermometer. We traveled to the southwest away from the Lewis River and encamped on the Cassia. Vegetation was rank. Next we traveled up the Cassia to the south over barren plains of prickly pears and sage, and encamped in high grass on a creek coming in from the west. Vegetation was ​rich. We continued up the creek to the west, and found plenty of dry grass well liked by animals. The hills on either side were of stratified basaltic rock and white marble. There were many berries which formed a good sauce to go with our dried meat, and the water was good.
   August 17—We continued our journey over mica slate ridges; snow was seen north and south on the mountains.
   August 20—There was frost in the forenoon, but in the afternoon very hot, with some clouds and thunder, but no rain. We experienced many days of this kind. We passed several large hot springs. Not knowing they were hot, I was much startled when I stooped to drink from one of them and found the water very hot. probably 100 or more.
   August 21—We met some Shoshone Indians, or Diggers, as they are often called. They appeared leaner and poorer, even in their clothes, than those we had seen before. They were armed only with bows and arrows. They had earthen pots and baskets in which they carried their water, and boiled their fish in the baskets by putting in hot stones, which, with the camas and white roots, formed their diet.
   August 22—We started northwest, leaving the Cassia on the right, passed several limestone ridges, with high mountains in the west, covered with snow, and came into a barren plain and encamped on a small creek. None of our company knew where we were. The next day we traveled over the barren plain fifteen miles, came to a large creek from the south, which joined one coming from the northeast, passing through "Cat Creek."
   August 24—We went up the creek to the south fifteen miles; then west five miles and encamped. There was volcanic rock all about us, and beyond high conical mountains, the range running east and west. The coal like rock looked like burnt granite, with some sandstone. There was no timber on the stream but the willow.
   August 26—We traveled southwest over the barren plains, open to the south as far as the eye could reach. We encamped on a small creek running southeast, which we afterwards learned was the Humboldt River. We continued up the creek to the northwest six miles and took an Indian trail in a southwest direction, reaching the creek at its source, which ran to the northwest.
   Here we parted with Messrs. Sublette and Frap, who were going west to trap. We twelve continued down this creek eighteen miles. This first night that we twelve adventurers were alone was full of curiosity and anxiety for the future for all of us in that unknown country. Our aim was to get back to Lewis River. We had traveled to the southwest since we had first crossed it; to get back to it and follow it to the junction with the Columbia was our plan.
   ​We were now at what I knew was the headwaters of the Owyhee River, then supposed to be the eastern boundary of Oregon. We continued down this canyon of burnt granite, mica, slate, etc., for several days, and saw many curious things. In one case there was a stone resting on a column as if just balanced there. We then traveled northwest over a very even plain, with some sagebrush, but saw water only once.
   September 1—Some thirty miles from the stream, there was a kind of well in the rocks. Snowy mountains were visible to the north, and country descended in that direction. We encamped on the plain, the Owyhee being a thousand feet below us. The rocks appeared like a burnt brick kiln. We saw some Indian with dried fish, and bought some, then ascended the bluffs on the west. We saw horses tracks down the steep bluffs, which with difficulty we descended, to our joy to quench our thirst and that of our horses.
   September 9—We visited a large Indian encampment or village. They were fishing. Their ingenious mode was very interesting. The stream was shallow. They built a fence across it near its mouth (we were now at the mouth of the Owyhee). Then leaving some distance above they made a weir at one side so that the fish coming down or coming up would go in, but were unable to find their way out. Then they speared them. Their spears were made having a bone point with a socket that fitted into a shaft or pole, and a hole was drilled through the bone point by which a string tied it to the shaft. At sunrise a signal was given by their chief; they all rushed from both sides into the stream, struck the salmon with their spears, and in each case the point would come off, but being fastened to the shaft by a string, the fish were easily towed ashore.
   The chief of this village accompanied us down the stream six miles. I here lost my hatchet, given me by Doctor Brinsmaide of Troy, New York. We reached the Lewis River September 10, and continued down the river, trapping wherever we saw signs of the beavers.
   September 17—We had some fresh fish boiled in baskets, the water being kept boiling by hot stones. For a day we went up a creek from the southwest trapping. Our horses were cut loose at night by the Indians, and my camlet cloak was stolen. As a general rule, the Indians were kind and friendly, and would make us presents of food, but they could not forego the attempt to steal our horses (of which we had two to each man) any more than a negro can leave a hen roost alone. The Indians we met were Shoshones or the Pallotipallos, or Flatheads, so called from the fact that the foreheads of all members of the tribe are flattened during infancy. The operation is performed by tying boards hewn to proper shape for the purpose, which compress the head, one being placed against the forehead and tied to another at ​the back, on which the infant is placed. The more the head is misshaped the greater the supposed beauty.
   September 20—We met Mr. Sublette and Mr. Frap. They went to the southwest. There was little timber in this region. When two or three of us went up trapping, we tied our horses' halters to our arms at night, so as to be sure not to lose them. We traveled slowly, trapping- on the streams coming from the west. At last we got tired, not having good luck, and the fish being bad. We tried to make the Indians understand that we wanted to go to Walla Walla. That being the only word in common between us, the conversation had to be by signs. An Indian drew a map on the sand; one sign meant river, making a motion of paddling; another the trail, by pointing to a horse. We understood that we were to keep down the river three sleeps (laying his head on his hand and shutting his eyes three times) thus giving us to understand we were to go by day, and if we whipped up, could cover the ground in two days. There the river went into the mountains, and we were to go over these mountains, and sleep; then another range, and sleep; then making a sign of a plain, then two more sleeps, and then Walla Walla. I was quite confident I understood him, if it was by signs. It proved as he said, and was a great help to us. Lewis and Clark speak of the destitute condition of these Plathead Indians. Not knowing just where we were, and not taking the precaution to buy a supply of dried fish, and meeting no more Indians, we soon got short of food. We made some thirty miles a day some days over the prairie, for when we arrived at the mountains we were in a sad plight. We were thoroughly exhausted by hard travel and the horses were no better.
   October 12—Having nothing to eat, we killed an old horse, and as hungry as we were, we did not relish it. We vowed if we killed another we would take a young one. The meat of a good horse tastes like venison.
   October 13—Captain Wyeth took four men and the best horses and started ahead for Walla Walla, requesting me to follow the next day. Traveling was hard and the ground frozen. We continued traveling north northwest and came to a broken plain.
   October 14—I had schooled myself to one meal a day, so had reserved part of my rations. Here I noticed in the western horizon something stationary, although it looked like a cloud in the bright sky. It proved (I afterwards found) the grand and snowy Mount Hood. I called the attention of the men to it. This we hailed as a discovery, and the grandest sight we had yet seen. We saw no water all day, but encamped at night on the bank of a creek which came from the west. Here we found berries which was all we had for supper. Here were many trails.
   ​The next day we took the one most trodden, as I felt sure this creek was the Walla Walla. We followed the old trail along- the bottoms of the creek. There was some fine timber now, but nothing to eat. We came to an Indian encampment the seventeenth and got some food. Before we came to the Indians, I had proposed to the rest of the party to kill another horse, but hungry as we were, we preferred to push on. The food we got from the Indians consisted of dried bear meat and elder berries, which we bought. I did not feel as ravenous as the other men. who ate until I urged them to stop, for fear of the result. The next day, after a fifteen-mile ride, we arrived at Fort Walla Walla on October 18, where we found Captain Wyeth, who had been there two or three days.
   The fort was built of upright timbers set in the ground. The timbers were some fifteen or eighteen feet high. A small stockade, with stations or bastions at the corners for lookouts. The Hudson Bay Company kept a fort here for the trade. There was a clerk and half a dozen men.
   We were received kindly, and for the first time since we left the forks of the Platte on June 1 we tasted bread. It was a very interesting and gratifying sight to look on the Columbia (Fort Walla Walla stands where Walla Walla Creek empties into the Columbia) after our long and tedious journey.
   The country around was barren. Rain, if they had any, commenced later in the season. There is little or no timber. Wild sage grows from five to six feet high, and is found everywhere on mountains and plains. It has ash colored leaves, and is bitter like the garden sage. Where nothing else is found, it is eaten by buffalo and deer. Here we decided to leave our faithful horses and descend the river in boats, which we began the day after our arrival.
   October 19—We took a boat of the Hudson Bay Company and two of their men (Canadians) and started down the river. We soon came to high basaltic bluffs, almost perpendicular, with only a narrow shore of grass and sand. The clear ocean blue water swept us swiftly on. We ascended the bluffs at night and there encamped. We found above a grassy plane, but no timber.
   October 20—We encamped on the left shore. The Indians of this section were not so respectable in appearance as those we had seen. They subsisted mainly on bad fish and a few roots. There were snowclad mountains on the south.
   October 21—We passed the picturesque rocks rising terrace on terrace. The night of the twenty-second some Indians brought us a nice fat horse to eat for supper, which proved very good. We found many roots and berries, which were also very good. Although we had ​brought plenty of food from the fort for the voyage, the horse did not taste like the poor one killed by us in the Blue Mountains.
   October 24—We passed the falls, where we made a short portage, and again at the dalles, or narrows, through which the river rushes. At its low stage a boat can pass through it. I was told this was six miles below the falls. The bluffs stand out prominently, frequently of pentagonal form. Lewis and Clark called them "High Black Rocks," which indeed they are. We finally came to the cascades, where the river rushes through a break in the mountains. They are so called from the thousands of beautiful cascades falling from these mountains.
   October 26—It rained harder than I had seen it in five months. The mountains became thickly timbered to the snow line. The next day we came to the tide water, one hundred and eighty miles from its mouth.
   October 28—We encamped at the sawmill of the Hudson Bay Company, which was superintended by Mr. Cannon, one of J. J. Astor's men, who came out with Mr. Hunt in 1811.
   October 29—We arrived at Fort Vancouver, it having taken us nine days to come down the river, some two hundred miles. Fort Vancouver is an extensive stockade, enclosed on a prairie back from the river. It includes the storehouses and the houses for governor and partners, as the clerks were called. For the servants and Frenchmen there were little houses outside of the fort. This was the main station of the Hudson Bay Company west of the mountains, and to this place shipping came.
   Lewis and Clark spoke of what a great harbor the Columbia might be: "That large sloops could come up as high as the tide waters, and vessels of three hundred tons burden could reach the entrance of the Multnomah River. "Fort Vancouver is situated on the right-hand side going down the river (now in Washington state). We were a hard looking set, owing to our hard life, but we were most hospitably received in spite of the awkward and suspicious circumstances in which we appeared. There had been some farming done about the fort for some seven years previous.
   November 3—Five of us started down the river in an Indian canoe. We could not go before, as it had rained. The country continued low on both sides of the river. Mount Hood on the south, Saint Helens on the north, in the rear of which appeared an hexagonal cone, white and beautiful (not then named; afterwards known as Mount Rainier).
   November 4—We passed many of the company's sloops, and Indians singing as they paddled their canoes. We saw also many white geese and ducks. We encamped on the shore opposite an island, used by the Indians as a burial ground. Their way of burial was odd. They ​wrapped the body of a warrior in his clothing, and with his mats, placed it in his own canoe, which they placed in some conspicuous point, on the shore of the river on the island, covered it with split plank and loaded it down with stone, so the wolves and other animals could not get at it. All property of the dead was also put into the canoe. To rob a grave is a very great crime. The island was called "Coffin Island," because there were so many of the canoes of their dead on it. As we went on shore to camp here, we went to a house, and got some wappato a root much eaten by the Indians.
   November 5—We continued down the river. The banks became broken and heavily timbered as far down as Tongue Point, where we encamped in sight of Fort George, and overlooking the sea. The next day we went to Fort George, or "Astoria," and were well received.
   A tree near the fort had recently fallen. Some said it was forty-seven feet in circumference, and others said seven fathoms. I do not think either exaggerated.
   November 8—We went over the hills to Young's Bay, where Lewis and Clark wintered, calling their camp "Clatsop Camp." We saw many enormous trees, two hundred feet high and from forty to fifty feet in girth. In fact, everything, even to the brakes, were of gigantic size. Still the potatoes on the clearing near the fort were small, and the soil looked poor.
   November 9—We got a yawl and a man to sail it, and crossed over to Chinook Point on the east, encamped, and at low tide went three miles around the point to the seashore. I urged the men to go with me, but all declined. So I went alone to look on the broad Pacific, with nothing between me and Japan. Standing on the brink of the great Pacific, with the waves washing my feet, was the happiest hour of my long journey. There I watched until the sun sank beneath the water. Then by the light of the moon, I returned to camp, feeling I had not crossed the continent in vain.
   November 11—We began returning slowly up the river. The Indians we found always peaceable, these traders having had the good sense and tact to keep them so, by always keeping faith and a good understanding with them. That day we went but five miles, keeping along the south shore. In the evening we were visited by Indians in a friendly way.
   November 16—We arrived at Fort Vancouver, to learn that one of our twelve had died. He had stood the hardships of the journey well. He ate heartily at supper of pease, which gave him colic, of which he died before morning. It seemed very hard to us, who had borne so much.
   The next day Mr. Wyeth and myself were invited by Doctor McLoughlin, the oldest partner and nominal governor, to his own table ​and rooms at the fort. Others were quartered out of the fort. I soon gave Doctor McLoughlin and Captain Wyeth to understand that I was on my own hook, and had no further connection with the party. We were received with the greatest kindness as guests, which was very acceptable, or else we would have had to hunt for subsistence. But not liking to live gratis, I asked the doctor (he was a physician by profession) for some employment. He repeatedly answered me that I was a guest and not expected to work. But after much urging, he said if I was willing he would like me to teach his own son and the other boys in the fort, of whom there were a dozen. Of course I gladly accepted the offer. So the boys were sent to my room to be instructed. All were half-breeds, as there was not a white woman in Oregon. The doctor's wife was a "Chippewa," from Lake Superior, and the lightest woman was Mrs. Douglas, a half-breed, from Hudson Bay. I found the boys docile and attentive, and they made good progress. The doctor often came into the school, and was well satisfied and pleased. One day he said: "Ball, anyway you will have the reputation of teaching the first school in Oregon." So I passed the winter of 1832 and 1833.
   The gentlemen of the fort were pleasant and intelligent. A circle of a dozen or more sat at a well-provided table, which consisted of partners, the clerks, Captain Wyeth, and myself. There was much formality at the table. Men waited on the table, and we saw little of the women, they never appearing except perhaps on Sunday or on horseback. As riders they excelled.
   The national boundary had not been settled beyond the mountains at this time. The traders claimed the river would be the boundary. The south side the American. The fur trade was their business, and if an American vessel came up the river, or coast, they would bid up on furs, and if necessary a price ten to one above their usual prices. So American traders soon got entirely discouraged.
   The voyage around Cape Horn to England was so long to take supplies, that the company brought a bull and six cows from California, and in seven years said they had raised from this start four hundred head of cattle. They plowed fields and raised good wheat. Salmon was so abundant that it was thrown away, to get some old imported salt beef. They had not as yet killed any of their stock.
   In the spring of 1833 Captain Wyeth and two other of the men started on their return home across the plains. Others of the party went into the employ of the Hudson Bay Company.
   I wrote letters home and sent by the Hudson Bay Express. Leaving Fort Vancouver March 20 each year, this express went north to about latitude 52°, then by men on snowshoes over the mountains, which takes them two. weeks. Then they take bark canoes on the La Bashe (or Athabasca), which flows north; descend it a distance, and make a short portage at Port Edmonton to the Saskatchawan River, down ​that to Lake Winnipeg. There the express was divided, part going down the Lake to Nelson River, descending it to the Hudson Bay. The rest was taken up the Lake and across to Lake Superior, and on to Montreal. My friends in New York and New Hampshire got my letters in September. The postage was twenty-five cents.
The following is an extract from a letter written at Fort Vancouver February 23, 1833, by Mr. Ball to his parents:
   Believing you still feel that interest in me that is usual to parents, and that you have always manifested towards me, I will inform you of my welfare.
   My health has been uniformly good ever since I saw you some fifteen months ago, and never better than now. I wrote you from the mountains and hope my letters were received, and that this will be also.
   I continued my journey across the country, leaving the place I wrote you from last July and arriving here at this place last October. Afterwards I went to the ocean, a hundred miles or more below here, then returned. Here I have been in comfortable quarters, teaching a few boys and enjoying the conveniences of home and good living.
   This is a post of the Hudson Bay Company, which extends its trade of furs from Canada to this place. Here they have extensive fur operation, raise wheat, corn, pease, potatoes, etc., and have cattle, sheep, and hogs. I have been civilly treated by them, although I possessed no introductory letters or anything to recommend me, being destitute of everything. Little can be brought under any circumstances across such an extent of wilderness of country. Now I am going to the trade you taught me farming from which more comforts can be obtained with less labor, and it is more healthy than most others.
   But perhaps I am too fast. You know your changeable weather brings on colds, and those colds, consumption. Here some three years past, some have had fever and ague, though never known even in the recollection of the natives before. I shall have to begin farming with a few tools, and accommodations. But mind you, my farm is cleared, and I have the choice of a tract as large as the whole State of New Hampshire, except what is taken by seven other farmers. I am going up the Multnomah or Willamette, near the mouth of which is the fort. I shall settle in the neighborhood of those already there. I have this week returned from looking out the place; find good soil, most of it prairie; still there is timber in abundance for fencing, fire, building, etc., well dispersed over the country. The white oak often grows on the plains like an orchard, and. there are groves of pine and other timber. The same fir you have grows to a great height and ​three or four feet through, answering for all the uses you put the white pine to. There is another tree, called the red fir. The timber is like the yellow pine, and grows immensely large.
   The great advantage here is the climate, for there is so little winter that I found cattle, horses, and hogs on the Multnoniah fat, though none of them had been fed this winter. In fact, I have not seen a flake of snow on the ground a moment, and hail but once, which lavtwo inches deep for one day. There was much rain in December and January, and it was so cold that the Columbia froze over, but the Multnomah did not. Some trees are now in blossom, and in favorable spots the fresh green grass has grown six inches high. The Indians have horses, which they sell at $8.00 per head, but cattle are still scarce. There are none this side of California, except what has sprung from a bull and six cows brought from California seven years ago, if I have been rightly informed.
   Anything can be raised here that can with you, any many things which can not be. Many kinds of fruit trees have been introduced which succeed well. But recollect, I am not in possession of these things myself, but hope to be after awhile from the generous conduct of those who are the owners. I have seen the country the description of which John Ordway gave you so interestingly when he returned from his tour with Lewis and Clark in 1806. The natives with their flattened heads are nearly the same, though a residence of some whites in their neighborhood for more than twenty years has doubtless had its effect. They have changed their skin dress to a considerable extent for cloth. Some wear nothing on their feet, and wear a kind of apron and blanket of skin. Some have adopted the dress of the whites. They are not a warlike people, in this quarter, though some individuals are killed, but in case of murder a payment of a valuable article is said to satisfy the friends of the departed.
Mr. Ball's journal continued:
   When Doctor McLoughlin found I was bent on going to farming, he loaned me farming utensils and seed for sowing, and as many horses as I chose to break in for teams. I took the seed and implements by boat, getting help up the Willamette to the falls, (passing the site of Portland and beyond the now Oregon City,) about fifty miles from Fort Vancouver. We carried by the falls, boat and all, and first stopped with one of the neighbors, a half-breed, J. B. Desportes, who had two wives and seven children, and plenty of cats and dogs. I caught from the prairie a span of horses with a lasso, made a harness, and set them to work. For harness I stuffed some deerskins, sewed in proper form, for collars, fitted to them for the harness, crooked oak limbs tied top and bottom with elk skin strings. Then to these strips ​of hide was -fastened for tugs, which I tied to the drag made from a crotch of a tree. On this I drew out logs for my cabin, which, when I had laid up and put up rafters to make the roof, I covered with bark pealed from the cedar trees. This bark covering was secured by poles crossed and tied at the ends with wood strings to the timbers below. Then out of some split plank I made a bedstead and a table, and so I dwelt in a house of "fir and cedar."
An extract from a letter dated September 15, 1833, reads:
   On the Willamette, about fifty miles from Port Vancouver, in my own habitation, the walls of which are the cylindrical fir, and the roof thereof cypress and yew, greeting: After dissolving connection with N. J. Wyeth on the seventeenth of last November, I was invited by Dr. John McLoughlin, chief factor of the fort, (a man of first rate general intelligence, and if I am not mistaken, of very liberal views,) to take charge as a pedagogue of his own son and a few other boys in the fort for the winter. All the gentlemen within the fort ate at a common table, where the fare was plain but good, and there was much instructive conversation.
   Here I passed the time, not disagreeably, until March. In February Capt. N. J. Wyeth and two men started for America by the mountains. In the same month I went up the Willamette about seventy-five miles to see the country; and the first of March, having no opportunity to return home immediately, Doctor McLoughlin offered me seed, a team, and farming utensils. I came to this place and commenced farming under many disadvantages* I boarded the first three months at J. B. Desportes. a half-breed, whose family consisted of two wives, besides one absent, by all seven children, four or five slaves and two or three hired Indians, besides cats and dogs without number. All inhabited one room in common.
   I made horse harness, hoe handles, plowed, made fences, sowed and planted without help, except what I could get from a wild Indian, about six weeks in the spring. I built the house aforesaid, sleeping within its walls from the day it was commenced, and soon after built a little barn. I kept for food five bushels from the twenty-five secured for sowing, but have had no corn or potatoes for want of rain.
   By July 10 my companion, Mr. Sinclair, was taken with fever and ague, and is now down again. I have had two attacks this month already, and have been unable to attend at all to things scientifically from the multiplicity of other business.
   I enjoy no society except Sinclair's, and even my own house has not been enjoyed without the intrusion of those I did not wish. In fact, it is a country of falsehood and low cunning. The whites adopt, ​in many things, the customs of the natives. Still, if one had learned their ways, he might get along very well; but as it is, and with no prospect of immigrants such as to change the tone of society, I shall soon depart from this coast, leaving for the present my home and farm.
   On the Willamette strawberries and other plants are in flower, and trees in leaf in April. By April 15 the camas are in bloom, and plants of many kinds full grown. By May 15 strawberries are ripe and roses are in bloom. By June 1 pease are ripe, and by June 15 barley and winter wheat are headed. Many kinds of fruit grow well. On ground previously tilled, one would have a good crop most years of every kind desirable. Deer and elk are plentiful, and one can always get salmon at the falls to eat. Hogs, horses, and cattle are easily raised. Cattle, if large stock could be obtained, would be the best.
The journal continued:
   Camas grow on the prairie about the size of an onion. The stem is about a foot high, having a blue blossom. It is palatable and nutritious as potatoes. The wappato, another root, is not as good, but grows larger. It is the root of a plant like the water lily. The Indians wade in up to their arms and break it off with their toes. Then it rises to the surface. The common way of cooking is by digging a hole in the ground, in which a stone is placed. A fire is built on the stone, and when it is heated the food is put on the hot stone wrapped in leaves, covered, and fire again built on top.
   A part of the time while on my farm I suffered much with fever and ague, which proved so fatal with the Indians, partly, probably, because of their plunging into water when the fever came on. They were wonderfully aided by medicine procured from the whites. One instance shows its fatal effect on the Indians. At one time a trader returning to the fort came to their lodge, or village, on the river just below the mouth of the Multnomah. He there found a number of dead and unburied. The only one alive was an infant on its dead mother's breast. He carried the babe to the fort, where it was thriving when I was there. Many die of fright. They are superstitious people, and think that sickness and death are caused by the "Evil Spirit."
   I had no nurse but my faithful friend Sinclair, who was sick, too. We got medicine from the fort, and it would hold up. Then we would be taken down again. Completely discouraged, I left my house on September 20. I sold my produce to the company at the fort. The grandeur of these beautiful mountains, Hood and Jefferson, and others not named on the south of the Columbia, as seen from the fort and my farm, were the hardest to leave. By the looks of the country I had passed through the year before, I knew they were volcanoes long ​extinct. The Indians spoke of the "Evil Spirit" not disturbing" them for forty snows (meaning- forty years). The "Evil Spirit" caused the mountains to vomit fire, mud, and stones, but the Great Spirit had driven him away.
   September 20—I left my farm with something of regret, but on the whole glad, seeing there was no prospect of any settlers and no society. Sick and discouraged I started down the river to the falls. Our Indian boy assisted us in carrying the boat. The boy said: "My people are all sick and dying. I'll be dead, too, when you come back." Below the falls I asked the chief for two of his men to row us to the fort. He answered that all his men were sick or dead, so we had to paddle our own canoe.
   The proceeds of my farm enabled me to buy my passage in the forecastle of the brig "Dryad," commanded by Captain Kipling, bound for the Sandwich Islands.
   September 28—I boarded her, and she sailed down the Columbia from Fort Vancouver. October 6 we arrived at Fort George. The next day Duncan Finlayson, Esq., and Mr. David Douglas arrived to take passage in the brig, and by Mr. Finlayson's direction I was transferred to the cabin.
   October 14—We anchored in Baker's Bay, under Cape Disappointment, from the top of which, called Fruzin's Head, was a fine view of the ocean and surf. In the bay at the mouth of the river were rocks. I should think they were "serpentine," and presented a somewhat burnt appearance.
   Sailing down the shore we occasionally saw the coast, which appeared high and broken, but we were not near land until we approached Drake's Bay, where the hills and all the coast are quite destitute of timber, presenting a barren appearance.
   November 4—We entered the bay of San Francisco, passing the fort and presidio, and came to anchor six miles or more up the bay. The next day we were visited on board Don Jose Figueroa, general and governor of Upper California, commissionary, commandant, etc.
   The people were Spanish or Creole descent, all very dark and probably most of them of mixed blood. They dressed in various fashions, and always go about on horseback, and even draw wood, drags, etc., by a lasso, tied to the pommel of the saddle, the man still riding. The Indians are darker and larger than those on the Columbia.
   Immense herds of cattle and horses were grazing on the hills and plains. The inhabitants attended but little to agriculture, though the soil is good. I saw from the ship a Spaniard lasso a wild bullock by the horns. Another Spaniard threw his lasso so that the first move the animal made he stepped into it and was thrown down so as to butcher him. It was done almost in a twinkle, the horses keeping ​their places. The end of the lasso was fastened to the pommel of the saddle. The men then dismounted to cut the bullock's throat.
   One day I wandered to the mission; another day to the presidio. They are both built of mud or adobe, with tile roof, much dilapidated. Another time I wandered to the woods, and over the hills to the seashore and up to the Gate. I found in the grass, dismounted, three or four cannons, which probably were once used for guarding the entrance to the bay. (For want of "the needful" and not being well, I did not go about as much as I wished. )
   The geology of the country is the same as at Cape Disappointment. The climate is lovely, and they say they seldom have frost. Most of the country east of the bay is an open prairie. Near the bay were some shrub oak and other small timber. On the distant mountains were large and lofty trees.
   We came into this bay in company with an American whaler homeward bound, the Helvetius, Capt. George S. Brewster of New London, Connecticut. J. Sinclair and two others who crossed the mountains with me went on board of her. They left on the twenty-seventh. I met here a Mr. Renson, who resides up the coast and raises wheat to supply their trading post at Sitka and other places in Alaska. One of the articles of trade was tallow, sewed up in bags of skin. When asked about it, he said the French and Indians used it with corn and other grain to make their soup.
   November 29—We sailed for the Sandwich Islands.
   KATE N. B. POWERS.