# Oregon Historical Quarterly/Volume 7/Route across the Rocky Mountains with a Description of Oregon and California/Chapter 5

Back to Chapter IV in Oregon Historical Quarterly Vol. 7 No. 2.
ROUTE ACROSS THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS WITH A DESCRIPTION OF OREGON AND CALIFORNIA, ETC., 1843.
[Reprint of a Work by Overton Johnson and Wm. H. Winter, Published in 1846.]
Bay of San Francisco—Sacramento and St. Wakine [San Joaquin] Valleys—Many Narrow Fertile Valleys—Great Lake, etc.—Barren Mountains Containing Silver Ore and Good Water Power—Tar Springs—Gold Found in the Pueblo Valley—Cultivation of the Vine—Spanish Dance—Wild Horses—Unsuccessful Attempt to Take Them.
CHAPTER V.
DESCRIPTION OF UPPER CALIFORNIA.
That portion of Mexican Territory, which is generally alluded to under the name of California, is included between the Pacific Coast and the California Mountains; a lofty and rugged range, which is a continuation of the Cascade Mountains, in Oregon, running nearly parallel with the coast, and East of it about one hundred and twenty-five miles; and between the parallel of 42 deg. North, and the Gulf of California. But the Southern part of this district, including the Peninsula, called Lower California, is a poor, dry, barren region, and has not yet afforded inducements sufficient to attract the attention of foreigners. That portion which is most desirable, and to which persons from the United States, traveling through, and settling in the country, have entirely confined their attention, is called Upper California; and is that part lying between the head of the Gulf, and the Northern boundary of the Province: and to this portion, we shall be confined in our remarks.
The Bay of San Francisco, situated in latitude 37° 45' North, is, perhaps, without exception, the finest and most spacious Harbor on the globe. It has been spoken of, and ​we believe without exaggeration, as being of sufficient capacity to contain all the Shipping of the world. The entrance of the Bay is only about one mile wide. It increases rapidly in width after entering the land; and separating, forms two arms; one bearing to the South East, the other to the North East. The Southern arm, is fifty miles in length, and ten in width, and is a beautiful sheet of water; deep, and entirely free from sand-banks and Islands. The Northern arm is sixty miles in length and about ten in width; is very crooked, containing many small islands; and has numerous creeks and coves every where indenting its shores. The St. Wakine [San Joaquin] and Sacramento Rivers, empty at the head of this arm of the Bay; the former from the South East, and the latter from the North. They are both streams susceptible of navigation, and their valleys uniting, form the most extensive body of level water found anywhere on the Western coast; being from the head of one valley to that of the other, about four hundred miles in length; and in width, from the California Mountains West, about fifty miles. There are numerous small streams running through these valleys, from the mountains, and from the highlands on the West, into the rivers; on all of which there are rich and productive strips of land from three to four miles in width, and extending back to the mountains. There are generally, along these streams, narrow belts of Oak timber, of which there are three kinds: White, Black, and an inferior kind of Live Oak. The trunks are short, and none are well calculated for fencing. Between the streams, the land is less fertile, very dry, and not at all adapted to cultivation; it, nevertheless, produces an abundance of the richest kind of grass, capable of affording support, during the whole year, to large herds of cattle and horses.
On the California Mountains, and on many of the inclinations, between them and the valleys, there is a timber ​called Red Wood; a large and very fine tree, of the Pine species, peculiar to California; Cedar and Sugar Pine, in inexhaustible abundance. But that part is generally considered the best portion of the Province, which lays West of the Sacramento Valley, and North of the Bay of San Francisco. It consists of alternate hills and valleys. Many of the hills are high; but they are gradual and unbroken. The valleys are from three to four miles in width, and from fifty to sixty in length; are all traversed by small streams of water, and have an excellent soil. Those which connect with the Bay—of which there five or six—run from North to South. Those which connect with the coast, and with the valley of the Sacramento, run to the West, and East. Immediately on the coast North of the Bay there is a range of very high, rolling hills, which increase in height to the North. They are covered with oats, which is a spontaneous production of this country; with excellent grass, and with groves and forests of Red Wood and Oak.
One hundred miles North of the Bay, and at about an equal distance from the Sacramento Valley and the coast, is the Great Lake, which is, in length from North to South, sixty miles, and fifteen in width. It is said to be a beautiful, clear sheet of water, surrounded by a belt of fine alluvial prairie, which also is encircled by a wall of high Mountains, covered in many places with groves of Red Wood and Oak, and giving rise to numerous rivulets, which meander across the plain, and empty into the Lake.—This is, perhaps, the most beautiful, romantic, and picturesque portion of the Province; but its very secluded situation, having, as far as has yet been learned, no good natural communication with the surrounding country, renders it less valuable. North of the Great Lake the country is, as far as the Clamuth Valley, little else than a vast cluster of mountains, which, connected ​by the Sacramento Hills, join with the spurs of the California Mountains and form the Northern boundary to the habitable portion of the Province.
The Southern arm of the Bay of San Francisco is surrounded by a belt of level land, which, on the North side, is six or eight miles in width, and very fertile. Francisco or Yerba Buena is a small town situated on the point of land South of the entrance of the Bay, and has a population of about two hundred. The land upon which it is built rises gradually one mile from the Bay, and descends gradually the same distance to the Ocean; and its situation, for a commercial town, is generally considered to be the best and most advantageous in California.
The country South of the Bay, and between the St. Wakine and the coast, is also diversified with mountains and valleys. The mountains are high, and some of them are barren. The valleys are fertile, from three to four miles wide, and from forty to fifty long. Their course is from South East to North West; and the streams, by which they are watered, empty into the Bay. Further South, the streams rising in the California Mountains, South of the head of the St. Wakine, run West, and empty into the Ocean. They have rich valleys four and five miles in width, covered with grass and clover, and separated by high mountains; some of which are covered with forests of Red Wood and scattering Oaks, and others are barren. Among the barren mountains, in many places silver is found in abundance; but little or no attention has ever been paid to it, and none of the mines have yet been worked. The Ore is said to be of good quality and easily obtained. This part of the territory is well watered, and affords some good sites for machinery.
​Monte Rey, the Capitol of the Province, is situated at the termination of one of these valleys, near the mouth of a small river, and on the bay of Monte Rey, an inlet affording a harbor for shipping, but too much exposed to the Sea to be a good and safe one. The town is small, containing only a population of about three hundred persons, and is built principally of dobies. Forty miles North East from Monte Rey there is a bituminous or Tar Spring oozing out from the foot of a mountain, and covering several acres of ground. This bitumen or mineral Tar is said to answer well all the purposes for which common Tar is used; it is inflamable, and becomes hard by exposure to the atmosphere.
South from Monte Rey, for several hundred miles, there are no valleys of considerable size, or country fit for cultivation, being a succession of high mountains, as far as Santa Barbara. Timber is scarce in this mountainous district, but it is, nevertheless, considered valuable for grazing, being covered with an abundance of oats, and various kinds of nutritious grass. At Santa Barbara there is a fine valley about five miles in width and sixty in length. Immediately south of this valley, and separated from it by a mountain, is the lower Pueblo Valley, of about the same size. These valleys have a black alluvial soil, and are both traversed by small rivers rising in the mountains to the East, flowing to the West, and emptying into the Ocean. They have numerous small tributaries, which arise in the bordering mountains, and empty from either side.
The great objection to this portion of the country is that it is almost entirely destitute of timber. Gold is found in considerable quantities in the upper part of the Pueblo Valley; yet the inconvenience of water renders the working of the mines less profitable. A company was formed, however, about the time of our leaving the ​country to engage in this business. The Pueblo and Santa Barbara are both towns of considerable size, containing each, probably, a population of about two thousand. They are situated about twenty miles from the sea shore, and the inhabitants are engaged in stock raising, and the cultivation of the vine. There is anchorage for shipping at the Western termination of these valleys.
The Southern portion of the Province of California, called Lower California, is more populous than the portion which we have been considering; but its population consists almost entirely of Mexican Spaniards and Indians; there being but few "Foreigners" in that part of California. (The term Foreigners is used here to designate all others, except the Mexican Spaniards, and Indians; though they have been residents in the country for many years; have become citizens; or even though they have been born in the country; still they are foreigners, if they be the descendants of Americans, English, French, Dutch, or of any other people, except those whom we have excepted.) We have never traveled through Lower California, and are, therefore, incapable of making statements concerning it. But we have been informed, by those who were acquainted with it, that a great portion of it is mountainous, dry and sterile; and especially the Peninsula of California; and, although we have never tested, by actual observation, the correctness of this description, yet we have some corroborating evidence of its truth; since we have observed, in proceeding South from the Bay of San Francisco, that the country becomes, as we advance, gradually less fertile, and less favorable to vegetation; the cultivated land requiring frequent irrigation to counteract the effect of the Summer droughts; we have also observed that the country becomes more mountainous; the valleys less productive; and that timber is often almost entirely wanting. From this we ​would conclude, and we think not without a good degree of reason, that in advancing still farther to the South, we would, probably, find the country agreeing with the description which our informants have given. The fact that there are so few foreigners in that portion of the country leads to the opinion that there is little inducement for them to settle there. Were it otherwise we might be sure of finding Americans, at least; for there is no country of considerable extent upon the earth's surface, which offers either pleasure or profit, where some of our adventurous countrymen are not to be found, unless their entrance is prohibited by the laws, or prevented by opposing arms.
Between the Northern and the Southern arms of the Bay of San Francisco there is a range of high lands commencing, which, after running a short distance in a South East course, trends away to the South, until their general course is about parallel with the coast. They separate the waters of the Southern arm of the Bay of San Francisco and those of the Bay of Monte Rey, (the Rio San Buenevantura [sic]) from the St. Wakine or Rio San-Joaquin, which, as we have said, empties into the Northern arm. Trending again to the East they probably intersect with the California Mountains, South of the head of the San Joaquin, bounding its valley on the West and South, and giving rise on one side to the tributaries which come into it from those directions, and on the other, to the Eastern tributaries of the Rio San Buenevantura, and to some other smaller streams which rise South of this and empty into the Ocean.
The soil of the Valley of the St. Wakine, along the river and its tributaries, is very rich, and consequently favorable to agricultural productions. These fertile strips make up a great portion of the valley; but beside these there are extensive tracts of barren land laying back ​between the river and the mountains and between its tributaries. These barren tracts are so dry and sandy as to be entirely unfit for cultivation; but they are, nevertheless, covered with that superior kind of grass peculiar to these Western countries; and which, although it is much less abundant on the barren than on the fertile land, is richer and more nutritious. On this account these unfruitful lands are not altogether valueless; affording, as they do, excellent pasturage for large herds of cattle. In one portion of this valley the land is so sandy that several of the mountain streams, which would otherwise empty into the river, are swallowed up. This portion is of considerable extent, and the river, for a long distance opposite to it, receives no tributaries from that side.
It will seem contradictory that lands unfit for cultivation, and so dry as we have represented these to be, should produce grass sufficient to render them valuable for the purpose of grazing; but it must be remembered that during the rainy season the frequent showers keep even these almost constantly moist; and that the temperature, at this season, causes them to afford nourishment for animals constantly. It is improbable that they will bear pasturage to the same extent, or support the same number of animals as the fertile lands. But when the country becomes well populated, and when all the lands adapted to cultivation shall have been brought into requisition for that purpose, then these barren lands, with proper care, will give support the most healthy and nutritious, to immense numbers of all kinds of herbivorous animals.
This, however, is not to be considered as the general character of the Valley of the St. Wakine; on the contrary, it is considered to be one of the best portions of California. In many places where the tributaries of the St. Wakine enter the Valley, there are the terminations ​of narrow, but rich and beautiful valleys which wind away among unexplored, and rugged spurs and peaks, and penetrate deep into the bosom of the California Mountains.
In the upper extremity of the Valley of the St. Wakine there are four lakes or marshes, called tulares, from the tule, (bullrushes,) with which they are filled. It grows to an astonishing size, and so thick that it is almost impossible to pass through it. This tule, when it falls, covers the marshes in places to the depth of more than two feet. There is one of the tulares here, in particular, which is very large, has several, streams emptying into it, and covers an extent of many miles. There are others similar to these, in different parts of the country; there is said to be a large one, through which the River, which empties into the southern arm of the Bay of San Francisco, flows; and there are some in the Valley of the Sacramento. There has yet been made no permanent settlement in the Valley of St. Wakine. The causes of this are, that until now, there were other portions of the country which were thought to offer greater inducements to the settler; and the Indians, who live in the bordering mountains, and who roam through the valley, are, by no means to be trusted. In consequence of there having been no settlements made here, the Valley of the St. Wakine abounds with all kinds of game common to the country. Elk, in large bands, are scattered over it in every direction. Deer are numerous. And there are Antelopes and Bears, also. The tulares and the streams are crowded with deafening swarms of waterfowls. All of these different kinds of game, at certain seasons, get to be very fat. There are other wild animals in the St. Wakine Valley. There are many wolves; and wild horses in bands of many hundreds may be seen at all times feeding on its extensive prairies.
​At the source of one of the Upper and Eastern tributaries of the St. Wakine, is Walker's Pass, through which Captain Walker, the discoverer of the Pass, conducted, in the Autumn of 1843, a part of the California emigrants, with whom we traveled from the States to Fort Hall. More frequently it is called "the Point of the Mountain." It is described as being a beautiful, though narrow, valley, cutting the mountain from its summit almost to its base; affording the only good, natural pass through this rugged barrier into the valuable portions of California. Through this, with a little labor, it is believed, that a very passable wagon road may be made; but being near the parallel of 35 deg., it is entirely too far to the South to be of much advantage to emigrants from the United States who cross the Rocky Mountains at the Great Pass. This pass through the Rocky Mountains is in latitude 42 deg. 23 min., and the point on the Pacific Coast where emigrants would wish, generally, to terminate their journey, is between latitudes 37 and 38 deg, so that, after striking the California Mountains they would have to make nearly five degrees of Southing—out of their course—in order to pass around "the Point of the Mountains," and afterwards, to make nearly three of Northing to regain what they had lost. This would be making a circuit of between four and five hundred miles in order to accomplish that which, by a different route, might be accomplished in about two hundred. This shorter route is, however, a very steep, rugged, and difficult one, but preferable, we believe, to the other on account of the great difference in distance. But should emigrants go into California by the way of Taos, or by some more Southern pass through the Rocky Mountains than that by which they go at the present, then will Captain Walker's Pass be found an excellent way into the Western portion of this country. It will, ​also, be of the utmost importance to emigrants who may be overtaken by the rainy season, as it is seldom, if ever, obstructed by the snows, which immediately after the commencement of the rains, cover all the mountains, blocking up every other way to such a degree that it is extremely hazardous to attempt them.
This little Valley of verdure and flowers looks out from its Eastern extremity upon an arid desert over which, in the vast scope which the eye embraces, nothing presents save huge piles and masses of dark rock and thirsty sands. In this region, so wonderful and so unlike any other portion of the known world, even the foot prints of the bold trapper have seldom disturbed the inhospitable sands, There are a few tracks in the vast region which lies between the California and Rocky Mountains, traveled at times by the Trappers and by the Mexican Traders, but these are rare: between them are extensive spaces which have never been trodden by the foot of civilized man. Previously this had been marked on the otherwise very imperfect and incorrect maps which have been made of the countries West of the Rocky Mountains "the unexplored region." It was left a perfect blank, and it is strange that in this very acknowledgment of their ignorance the map-makers have described so accurately what succeeding explorations have proved to be a perfect blank. It is reasonable to suppose that the All-Wise has arranged every thing in nature with perfect fitness; that there is nothing in the great globe which is not perfectly adapted to some proper purpose, which is not a necessary part in this vast, harmonious machine—the Universe of God. But, as far as the eye of man, though aided by all his philosophy, has yet been able to see; the half of all is unaccountable. So is this seeming waste. It appears to have been thrown in merely to fill up space, or to be a barrier to the commerce and ​intercourse of man. To us a greater portion of it is more than a blank; we would rather have buried, not only a part, but the whole of it beneath the billows of a vast inland sea. In other respects the map-makers have been less correct; ignorant that these arid sands could swallow up all the rivers and torrents and melted snows of the surrounding mountains, they omitted the loftiest range in North America, in order that the waters of Lake Timpanagos (the Great Salt Lake) might flow into the Bay of San Francisco. That was useless. They are thirsty still; the Rio Colorado, were it not protected by a wall of mountains, would never reach the Gulf of California. There are many lakes besides this and many streams running down from the mountains which enclose this Valley of the Great Salt Lake, all of which are swallowed up in the sands. The Valley of the Salt Lake has no outlet. The lofty range which separates it from the Pacific has yielded only to the Columbia. The Cascade Mountains have been severed only by the Great River of the West; and the California Mountains, (an extension of the same,) are unbroken. They stand like a mighty wall to separate the green valleys of Western California from this parched waste.
This Eastern portion of California, however, like Eastern Oregon, contains some green spots, to show more effectually the dreariness of all around them. Along the Eastern base of the California Mountains, there are, probably, enough of these productive spots, to induce men, in time, to inhabit them. They might be made somewhat profitable for grazing. There is a region, of considerable extent, in the neighborhood of the Great Salt Lake, which would afford excellent pasturage. There are also, on some of the Streams which empty into it, narrow valleys, which have a good soil. Only a portion of this, however, was seen by ourselves; our knowledge concerning it ​pends, partially, upon the information of others, together with our knowledge of the general character of the country. A great portion of this habitable region lies North of the forty second parallel of North latitude, and is, consequently, in the Oregon Territory.
But there is a large portion of the desert region, of which there is little or nothing known. What is known concerning it has been learned by merely passing through it in a few places by routes separated from each other by great intervening distances; yet from the dreariness of every track that has yet been tried may be inferred, with a good degree of certainty, what those portions are which have yet either repelled the efforts of the traveler, the trader, and the trapper, or deterred them by their very appearance from attempting to break in upon the secrecy of their gloomy and forbidding solitudes.
With a very few exceptions, in this whole vast scope of territory lying immediately beyond the Rocky Mountains, extending west several hundred miles, and to an uncertain distance North and South, there can never locate any civilized society. Their inhabitants will be like those in the Deserts of Arabia and in the Sahara of Africa.
The climate of California, like that of Oregon, is much milder than in the same latitudes anywhere East of the Rocky Mountains. In fact, it is in every respect very similar to the climate of Oregon, excepting only that it is warmer in proportion to its difference of latitude and is dryer, there being not so much rain during the winter season and scarcely any during the summer. It is very mild, ice seldom ever being seen in the valleys, or snow except upon the mountains. The extremes of heat and cold are not great, nor is the climate subject to any great and sudden changes. The atmosphere is so pure that whole beeves will remain sweet and good in the open air ​without salt at any season of the year for three or four days at a time. The nights are quite cool during the whole year, and sickness of any kind is scarcely known or thought of. Nearly all the products of temperate climes except Indian corn flourish here. Oats and clover grow spontaneously in almost every part of the Province. The vine flourishes as well, perhaps, in California, as in any other portion of the world, and its fruit is the finest and decidedly the most delicious that we have ever tasted. There are many large vineyards in different parts of the country from which several thousand barrels of wine are annually made. The prickly pear is cultivated for its fruit. The peach and pear do well, but the apple is not so fine as in the United States. In the Southern part of California irrigation is necessary to the production of wheat and garden vegetables, but in the North this is seldom the case, the late winter rains being sufficient to perfect the harvest. But a small portion of the Province is yet in cultivation, the Spaniards, who comprise the chief population, being engaged principally in rearing and herding cattle and horses, for which both the climate and country are peculiarly adapted. Many individuals own several thousand animals, which are kept in bands, and require only the attention of a herdsman. They are always very wild and can be managed only by force. They are driven into a coral (a strong enclosure), once every year for the purpose of branding, etc. The Spaniards enter these corals on horseback with the lassoo, which is a rope made of rawhide, very strong, and formed into a running noose. Holding one end of this rope coiled in the left hand, they swing the extended noose with the right several times above the head, in order to open it, and to acquire momentum, and then throw it with almost unerring precision from thirty to forty feet, about the head of any animal they choose, making fast the end ​which they retain around the horn of the saddle, which is made very strong and bound firmly upon the horse. The horse, as well as the rider, understands the manner of manoeuvering, and is able to hold the strongest bullock, taking care to watch closely its movements, when it is disposed to make battle, and avoiding its furious passes, until it becomes exhausted or assistance is given to the person who has caught the animal.
These Spaniards are probably equal in horsemanship to any people in the world, the famous Arabs of the Eastern deserts, and the wild Comanches of the great Western prairies, not excepted. Many of their feats are entirely increditable to those who are not well acquainted with their character. We have heard it frequently said, (and it is nearly true,) that the Mexican Spaniard does every thing on horseback and with the lasso. The Californians like most other Mexican Spaniards, are a lazy, indolent and cowardly people, and have neither enterprise nor spirit of improvement in their disposition, they are only a grade above the aborigines, and, like them, they will soon be compelled, from the very nature of things, to yield to the swelling tide of Anglo-Saxon adventure.
Almost every thing which the Californians possess is of the rudest and simplest construction. Among the better class, however, there are many exceptions to the general rule; but the great majority of the Californians, who are of Spanish descent, will be embraced under it. Their houses, which are constructed of mud and poles, are often without either floors or chimneys. Within they are filthy and destitute of almost all the furniture most commonly used by civilized people; even chairs, beds, and tables are wanting. The earthen floor, without any addition, affords them convenient seats, and with the addition of a bullock's hide, it is made to answer the purpose of both ​table and bedsteads. Their cooking utensils and diet are rough and simple, as their furniture; even those who are not of the lowest grade live almost entirely on beef; and after the manner of their brother aborigines, a wooden stake, sharpened at both ends so as to form a spit, answers the purpose of pot and platter.
The principal business of all classes is attending to animals; there are some, however, who cultivate small patches of ground. In doing this they use plows of the most simple and primitive style. Their plows are nothing more than the fork of a tree, so cut and trimmed that one of the prongs answers as a beam, by which it is drawn, the other prong is the plow itself, and the main stem, with some trimming, makes the handle. The Spaniards do not, however, often engage in laborious exercise. They are generally content with merely living; and in a country possessed of so mild a climate as California has, it requires very little exertion to live. Where labor must be performed they usually employ the Indians, who are obtained for a mere nominal compensation. In fact a great many of the Indians in California are little else than slaves.
A wheeled carriage is seldom used by a Californian; a horse and rope answers his purpose. Often when he goes to any of the towns to purchase an article, he fastens his money—which is a bullock's hide—to one end of his lasso, and then mounting his horse, winds the other end around the horn of his saddle, and putting spurs, dashes off at a furious rate, over hill and plain, with or without a road, to the town.
Their saddles, which are made very strong, are loaded with various trappings, have large heavy wooden stirrups, and altogether, frequently weigh sixty or seventy pounds. The plan of the saddle tree is an excellent one, and the saddles are very safe and pleasant for the rider, ​and when they are well constructed, with the exception of their weight, are easy on the animal.
It is difficult to find a people, or even an individual, who has not some good trait of character; and even these Californians, with all their faults, are hospitable at their houses. If a stranger goes to one of their houses, he is made welcome to whatever it affords, and as comfortable as their limited means will allow; he must, however, furnish his own bed. It is always expected that a traveler in California will carry that article with him. When he departs, nothing is demanded and nothing will be received by them as a compensation; the almost universal and beautiful reply is, when payment is proffered, "No, God will pay."
There are now about five hundred foreigners residing in the country, and the principal portion are from the United States. Emigration from the United States is rapidly increasing, and it is probable that our citizens will possess themselves of this beautiful and healthy country, with its many vales of fertile land. They will soon outnumber the Spaniards, and gain the ascendency over them. The consequence will be to throw off their present form of government, establish a Republic of their own, and render this portion of our globe what nature has seemed to design it should be, a prosperous and happy country.
Grants of land are still obtained from the government of from one to ten leagues. These grants cannot, however, be had at all times or by all persons; only those who are in favor with the authorities are likely to get lands.
The duties on foreign imports are exceedingly high, and all foreign articles for which there is any demand bear a great price. Smuggling is common, and presents ​are said to turn away the eyes of the Government officers and lessen their estimates upon the value of cargoes.
The Government is under the direction of a Governor, appointed by the authorities of the Mexican Government, and the officers of justice are the same as in her other Provinces; they are called Alcaldes, are elected by the people, and have powers very similar to our Justices of the Peace; but the influence of bribery and favoritism affects, in a great degree, the principles of justice and almost entirely defeats the administration of the laws; and its remoteness from the Capital renders the influence and control of the National Government very limited. They have a regularly organized militia and a small standing army, in the country; but the rebellion of last winter drove the army, with the Governor, out of the Province.
The Spaniards of California are very dissipated, and are exceedingly fond of dressing and amusement. This character applies in a greater or less degree to all, but those only of the higher and wealthier class can indulge these dissipations, to much extent. They are unfeeling and cruel, and many of their amusements partake of this character. They love to witness combats between the Wild Bull and Grizzly Bear; for this purpose, a strong arena is formed with heavy palisades, and the animals are taken wherever they can be found, with the lasso, and dragged into the arena. By them, a Bull is taken, and managed without difficulty; but the Bear, with all their skill and horsemanship, is still a powerful opponent; yet, four or five of these Californians, mounted on their strongest horses, will even take this powerful and ferocious animal alive, and convey him several miles, in order to gratify their fondness for barbarous scenes. If a single horseman, unassisted, throws his lasso about the neck of a Grizzly Bear, the Bear seating himself upon ​his hinder parts, grasps the lasso in his fore paws and commences "hauling away," hand over hand, as adroitly as a Jack-Tar, dragging horse and rider together, towards him. In a case of this kind, the only alternative is, to "slip the cable and make sail." But when there are several to assist, they throw their lassos around the feet of the captured animal, and thus confined, they drag him away. Being placed together in the arena, the two furious animals soon engage with each other, but the Bear, after such rough handling, is so strained, and bruised, and worried, that he is frequently borne down, and gored to death, by his less powerful adversary. They are fond of cock-fighting, also; and horse-racing; and as the Sabbath is both a leisure and lucky day, and one in which they are commanded to do no labor, their sports, generally, come upon that day, and they are attended by all classes, by saint and sinner. But before every thing else, the Californian is passionately fond of his own National dance, the Mexican Fandango. In order to convey some idea of this great favorite Mexican amusement, we will give a brief description of one that went off on a Sunday night, in Sonoma, at the residence of a Spanish gentleman, Don Gaudeloupe Viyeahoes, to attend which, we were favored with an invitation. About candlelighting the guests began to assemble, among whom we were the earliest, in order to witness the whole proceedings. As they arrived, the gentlemen collected in small groups, through the yard, and entered into the discussion of various subjects; and some highly amusing, if we may be allowed to judge from appearances, such as teeth shining under black curling mustachoes—the low chuckle, with an occasional loud laugh—while others, with more serious demeanor, were calculating their chances for failure or success, in the pending revolution, for they were rebels, and were consequently interested in the issue. In ​the meantime; the young ladies, with noisy glee, were frolicking, singing, and dancing within; and some of the married ones were preparing the nicknacks, and getting ready the wines, while others were engaged in arranging and ornamenting the room for the dance. Preparation being ended, we were invited in, and took our seats in a row, on one side of the room, while the ladies, in the same order, occupied the other. The sides of the hall, which was twenty by forty feet, were lined with persons of every age. The music, which consisted of two guitars and a violin, occupied one end, while the other was filled up by several tables, upon which were heaped indiscriminately, hats, cloaks, coats, and shawls, and the board bearing the sweet breads, wines, etc., which completed the circle, and occupied a large portion of the room. The hall was well lighted by lamps suspended from the walls and ceiling; in short, every thing was very well regulated, except only the disposition of the sexes. A young Don now stepped into the middle of the floor, gave a few shuffles, and the music commenced. He began to pat, or rather to stamp the tune, flat footed: which he continued, without variation, until he had gone through all the different parts of the hall and back again to his starting place; and so exactly had he calculated the measure of his step that he had occupied precisely the same space of time in accomplishing his circuit that was required by the musician in completing the tune. He then walked up to a young lady and began clapping his hands in her face in a manner that reminded us of a young Hoosier scaring black birds out of a corn field or encouraging a lazy cur to take hold of some rascally pig; but we soon learned that he was only inviting her to dance. So, after clapping his hands half a dozen times, he retired to his seat, and the lady came on to the floor and went through the same patting and stamping which the ​gentleman had done. This mode of dancing had continued for some time, when one of the fair, who was occupying the floor, from fancy, curiosity, or politeness, danced up to an American and began clapping her hands in his face. Our countryman was evidently very much embarassed; he blushed, reddened, and at last, after several hems and hawks, stammered out, "No, savvy." Not at all discouraged at this failure, and resolved, as it seemed, on seeing an American dance, she turned and went waltzing up to our friend, who by the way, was not easily dashed, though not much of a dancer. "What could I do," said he afterward; "I could not dance in their style, I knew; and but very little in any other; if I took the floor, I might reasonably expect to fail, and so be laughed at, for an awkward American; if I refused, I should be ridiculed for my timidity and want of gallantry." "While thinking thus," said he, "the lady was all the while, with a most persuasive smile, bowing, clapping her hands, and urging her entreaties with all the English she was acquainted with. I turned my head, saw some of the company beginning to titter, and could bear it no longer." Here he made a desperate effort, gained the middle of the floor, and then went patting away to the further end of the room, imitating their mode of dancing as well as he could; then turning, he came down on a real, regular, backwoods hoe-down shuffle; wheeled into the middle of the floor, cut the pigeon wing, and brought up before a pretty brunette, who seemed about to go into a fit of hysterics from excessive laughter at the novel performance; clapped his hands four or five times in her face, and then went whirling away to his seat. "Go it countryman—huzzah countryman," cried we, joining in the general uproar. The Spaniards appeared to be much interested, and were quite pleased with this new way of dancing, and during ​the evening we saw numbers of both sexes trying to imitate the step. At length, becoming tired of this single handed game, they changed it into a series of waltzes, cotilions, etc., which were performed with such noise and uproar that we verily believe they might have been heard half a mile. It appeared that skill was estimated, by them, in proportion to the amount of sound produced; which was created in two ways: first, by the heavy dancing, and secondly, by yelling at the top of the voice, parts of the tune, which were designed to chime in with the instruments; but which, however, so far from being the case, when half a dozen of those stentorian voices, at once broke forth, it produced such a variety of horrible discords, as could be compared to nothing, but the simultaneous roar of a caravan of African and Asiatic animals. At length came the refreshments, which consisted of cakes, dates, dried figs, and wines, and were handed around by the married ladies. About thirty minutes having been spent in thus reviving the physical strength, the dance again commenced and was continued with great spirit and exertion until a late hour of the night when the weary and drowsy guests retired, and there was an end to the boisterous fandango.
This was a collection of about the fairest samples which the country could afford; and how far inferior were they even to the unlearned and poorer classes in our own country! Selfishness, it is true, is sure to make us have a good opinion of ourselves, and with ourselves, to make us appear favorable in comparison with others. A knowledge of this should generally dictate to us the propriety of not hazarding an expression concerning our own goodness or greatness in such a comparison; but there are instances, and this is one of them, in which there is no possibility of being mistaken. These very people, though they are not aware of it, in all their intercourse with ​foreigners, admit the inferiority of their judgment and knowledge in every respect, except only in those things which are immediately connected with their every day life. Why is there so great a difference? There must have been some great cause to have produced it; it is evident that such a difference did not exist between the brave and enterprising, though infatuated Spaniards, who conquered Mexico and our forefathers; even the people whom the Spaniards conquered, were far, very far superior to these. What great cause, we would enquire, has operated to sink them so far beneath their proud, daring, and high minded ancestors; and that, too, while all the rest of the civilized world has been moving forward with giant strides up the great highway of human improvement? What could it have been but "that accursed thirst for gold?"
But to plunge precipitately from one extreme to another, as has been usual with us in the few preceding pages, to step from the threshold of the best specimen of society, which this degraded people possess, at once into the wilds of this wild country, we will enter again the Valley of the St. Wakine.
During our stay in the country we went, in company with a friend, from Capt. Sutter's to the South, in order to examine the St. Wakine, to see the wild horses, and to visit the Capital, Monte Rey. We proceeded down the Sacramento, passed around the head of the Bay, and came to the St. Wakine River, thirty miles above its mouth, on the third day. This part of the country is inhabited by a very troublesome tribe of Indians called the Horse Thieves, and contains no white settlement. The character of these Indians will readily be inferred from their name, which is most appropriate. They have long been hostile to the Spaniards, and a short time previous had killed a white man, and it was therefore ​necessary for us to be very cautious while we were passing through their country. They have their Villages in the small valleys and nooks, deep in the mountains, where they keep their women and children, and to which they fly as soon as they have committed any depredation. Among these fastnesses they enjoy their booty in quiet, the Spaniards not daring to follow them among the mountains. They subsist, principally, upon horse-flesh, some of which they procure from the wild bands which cover the Valley of the St. Wakine, but principally from the Spanish bands, from which they frequently drove off hundreds, and sometimes thousands of horses. Many of these Horse Thieves have been educated in the Catholic Missions, where they were comfortably fed and clothed, and promised homes during their lives; but when the Missions were broken up—by the avarice of the Spaniards, these Indians fled to the mountains, from whence they have since continued to commit depradations and destroy the lives and property of their own enemies and destroyers.
Traveling up the St. Wakine we frequently saw large herds of Elk and wild Horses. The Elk, which were often in herds of four and five hundred, were not very easily frightened, and seldom ran to a great distance; but the Horses, which were still more numerous and were scattered in large hands all along the river, after having satisfied themselves with approaching and examining us, would dash off across the valley at full speed, and, in their course, whatever bands they came near would join the flight, until frequently the plain would be covered with thousands and thousands flying in a living flood towards the hills. Huge masses of dust hung upon their rear, and marked their track across the plain; and even after they had passed entirely beyond the reach of vision, we could still see the dust which they were throwing in vast ​clouds into the air, moving over the highlands. These frightened bands were never out of sight, so numerous are the wild horses on the St. Wakine. Continuing up the river we came, on the second day, to a coral, which had been built some time previous by our acquaintance, for the purpose of taking these wild horses. It was situated in a large slough of the river at a part which was then dry for several hundred yards, and was the principal crossing for the horses from an island containing several thousand acres, which was formed by the slough. There were two large bands upon the island when we arrived, and we made an effort to drive them into the coral, but they took another crossing and we did not succeed. Our friend pursued the first band that left the island, with the lasso, endeavoring to take a fine mule, which he selected; but his horse being fatigued, he was not able to come up with it. When the second started we put spur for the crossing which they were about to take, and arrived at the same time that the foremost horses of the band leaped down into the water. We endeavored to turn them, whooping and yelling most manfully, but those behind, urging those before, forced them forward and they began to rush by. The pass was narrow and the dust so obscured us that they frequently ran near enough for us to strike them in the sides as they were passing; but we were at length compelled to retire, on account of the suffocating effect of the dust. Presently, again approaching, with whooping and yelling we endeavored the second time to turn them, but they only gave way and closed around us and the dust again obliged us to retire; we finally succeeded in turning a few of the last, yet they were so determined to follow the others that we only drove them a few hundred yards towards the coral before they plunged down a perpendicular bank fifteen or twenty feet into the slough, burying themselves ​completely under the water, and gaining the opposite shore followed the band. The Spaniards often take the wild horses in this manner, and frequently by pursuing them upon the open plain. When they have taken one, they confine it with ropes, saddle it, put a halter on it, and having again loosened it they mount and ride it furiously until it is completely exhausted. And they continue to do this until the animal becomes tame and tractable. These wild horses are of almost every color; some of them have a very fine appearance, but they are much smaller than well-bred horses, and their habits are, in some respects, entirely different from those of the domestic horses. From the coral we proceeded across the country to Monte Rey.
Arriving at Monte Rey we found a gentleman and his family who had left the States with us, and with whom, as we have before mentioned, we traveled as far as Fort Hall. They left Fort Hall for California, under the pilotage of Captain Walker, about the same time that we left it for the Falls of the Willammette. After traveling through the dreary country of which we have spoken, as far as the California Mountains, they followed that range South several hundred miles, and entered the Valley of the St. Wakine by Walker's Pass. The small supply of provisions which, by very unpleasant means, they at length procured at Fort Hall, after continued and persevering effort, were exhausted long before they could reach a place where they could be resupplied. A country so barren as that through which they were compelled to travel afforded neither game nor food of any kind, except that upon which the few miserable and beast-like Indians who inhabit that region subsist—lizzards, crickets, ants, and the like—and which would, of course, be revolting to the palate of any other people unless in the very extremity of starvation. They suffered extremely, ​and before they arrived at the Pass they were driven to the necessity of eating some of the mules and horses which had served them so faithfully, and which were then poor and worn out with fatigue from long and laborious traveling over a country so rough and barren. They left their wagons and much of their baggage, and packing what they could upon the remainder of their fatigued animals they succeeded in gaining the Pass. When they came into the Valley of the St. Wakine they fared more bountifully upon the wild horses, which they found in good condition and in great abundance. They finally arrived in the winter at the settlements, and after suffering all hardships and privations were prepared to relish, in no small degree, the abundance which they afforded.
We also had an opportunity during our stay in the country of seeing most of those with whom we parted at Fort Boise, on Snake River. The gentleman in whose company we were at this time was one of that party. They followed the route which they expected at the time of our separation to follow, experiencing, fortunately, not so much difficulty in finding it as had been anticipated. Having left the head of the Malheur River, and traveled over a barren, sandy country about two days without water, they at length, after ascending a high mountain, came upon a lofty but beautiful table land, rich and wooded with pines or varied by prairies and coursed by many clear mountain streams. They discovered what they supposed to be the head of the Willammette and corrected an error which had previously been entertained concerning the source of the Sacramento. They had expected to endure suffering, and in this they were not mistaken. Although they were fortunate in finding their way through an unknown country, and still more so in preserving their lives from its brutal and hostile ​inhabitants, yet the lateness of the season, together with their entire ignorance of a great portion of the pathless wilds and precipitous mountains over which they had to pass, subjected them to numerous and serious hardships. At times when they saw no way to move forward an additional obstacle was opposed to their advancement by heavy falls of snow, greatly increasing, and at the same time concealing the dangers of their perilous way. Their provisions became exhausted. Some of their animals had been killed by the Indians, some dashed to pieces by falling from the rocks, and those that remained, poor from want of sufficient food and worn down by the journey, were all upon which the little party had to depend for the support of life. After encountering delays and suffering much from anxiety, fatigue, hunger, and cold, they at length succeeded in getting down into the Sacramento Valley. Thin and feeble themselves they finally arrived early in the winter at Capt. Sutter's, on foot and leading their animals, which were no longer able to carry them. This was a point where they had designed for a time to terminate their travels, and here they found that abundance and repose to which they had so long and eagerly looked, and which their present condition so much required.
Almost all the suffering which the emigrants to California experienced was owing to the detention which they were compelled to make along the road for the purpose of supplying themselves with provisions. Had they been properly provided before the commencement of the journey, and not depended at all on the game, they would have avoided it almost entirely. It is to be wondered at that the person who assumed the leading of the party, and who was then making his second trip to California, had not learned from his experience to give better counsel; but in respect to those who were unacquainted with ​the country, it is not in the least astonishing that they should be mistaken in making the necessary preparations to travel comfortably and securely through a region so unlike everything to which they had ever been accustomed.
The Northern portion of Western California, considered in comparison with the Mississippi Valley, like Oregon, contains a great deal less fertile land in proportion to its extent. Much of this portion of California, which is far superior to any other, is taken up by mountains or lands otherwise unfit for cultivation; whereas, in the Mississippi Valley, the whole might be brought into one vast fruitful and unbroken field. From this reason the Mississippi Valley must always be the most productive and wealthy country. But on account of the delightful mildness and uniformity Of the climate of California, it will forever be the most healthy and happy country.