About the middle of September the time of my departure drew nigh. Judge Flennikin found a change of venue to Carson Valley necessary; Thomas, his son, was to accompany him, and the Territorial marshal, Mr.Grice—a quondam volunteer in the Mexican War—was part of the cortége. Escort and ambulance had been refused; it was imperative to find both. Several proposals were made and rejected. At last an eligible presented himself. Mr.
The End—Hurrah! August 25th.
To-day we are to pass over the Wasach,[1] the last and highest chain of the mountain mass between Fort Bridger and the Great Salt Lake Valley, and—by the aid of St. James of Compostella, who is, I believe, bound over to be the patron of pilgrims in general—to arrive at our destination, New Hierosolyma, or Jerusalem, alias Zion on the tops of the mountains, the future city of Christ, where the Lord is to reign over the Saints, as a temporal king, in power and great glory.
Echo Kanyon, August 24th,
23d August. Fort Bridger.
22d August. To Ham’s Fork and Millersville.
We were not under way before 8 A.M. Macarthy was again to take the lines, and a Giovinetto returning after a temporary absence to a young wife is not usually rejoiced to run his course. Indeed, he felt the inconveniences of a semi-bachelor life so severely, ‘that he often threatened in my private ear, chemin faisant, to throw up the whole concern.
To Green River. August 21st.
To the South Pass. August 20th.
To the Foot of South Pass. 19th August.
Up the Sweetwater. 19th August.
17th August. To the Valley of the Sweetwater.