with the ill covered graves of men and women, ghastly skeletons of golden hopes. Some were overtaken by the snow, and losing their way, perished; some were shot by savages; some fell by disease. In the words of a pilgrim, "the last part of the emigration resembled the rout of an army, with its distressed multitudes of helpless sufferers, rather than the voluntary movement of a free people." On reaching the Truckee, their weary spirits grew buoyant again; for now the trail was good, water and grass abundant, and the first tall trees which they had seen for eight hundred miles, appear. So on the survivors come, sometimes worn out by famine and fatigue, over sterile hills and scorching Saharas, through the valleys of death and from the plains of desolation, heedless if not heartless, up by the pathway through the cloven granite, through the mountain pass, then zig-zag down the steep slopes, and beneath the shadowy pines of the Sierra, emptying all that is left of them and their belongings into the valley of the Sacramento, or into the garden of Los Angeles, ready after their toilsome march to reap and riot with the best of them.

Fortunate indeed are they if their last flour be not cooked, and the last morsel of rancid bacon be not devoured, before reaching their journey's end. Once among the settlers, however, and they are sure of the means of appeasing their hunger; for there yet remains something of that substantial hospitality which the poorest western emigrant would think it shame to refuse another.

Now they may revel in the realms of golden dreams. Here, indeed, is the promised land; and these dirtcolored, skin-cracked, blinded, and footsore travellers, whose stomach linings are worn and wasted from carrying foul food and fetid water-let them enjoy it. Stripping off their ragged and gritty clothes, the newly-arrived may bathe in the inviting streams, drinking in the cool, refreshing water at every pore; they may put on fresh apparel, and fill themselves

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with good bread and beef; then mounting their horses, they may wade them through tracts of wild oats that top both horse and rider, and they may tread down the yellow bloom of countless autumnal flowers. They may see herds of antelopes passing along the plain like wind-waves over the grass, and droves of wild horses tossing their heads in the air as their broad nostrils catch the taint of the intruders, and great, antlered elk, some as big as Mexican mules, grazing about the groves and under the scattered trees. Now they may rest, and now the more fortunate may hope to enjoy the luxury of house, and bed with clean sheets and soft pillows. Yet at first, to him who has long slept in the open air, these are no luxuries. Often those accustomed to every comfort at home, neat and fastidious in all their tastes, on resuming their former mode of living after sleeping a few months in the open air, have been obliged to leave a comfortable bed and spread their blankets under the trees if they would have sleep. The house and its trappings stifle them. So hates the savage civilization.

The relative dangers of the overland and ocean journeys have sometimes been discussed. I should say that in danger, and in the romance which danger brings, the journey across the plains eclipsed the steamer voyage, in which there was more vexation of spirit than actual peril. Even the long and stormy passage of Cape Horn had fewer terrors than the belated passage of the snowy Sierra. The traveller who takes ship for a far-off land incurs risk, it is true; but if he reaches his destination at all, it is without effort on his part. He throws himself upon the mercy of the elements, and once having done this he can do no more. But there is much that is strengthening, ennobling, in the battlings and uncertainties of overland travel. I have, indeed, often thought that man is never more ingloriously placed, that his pettiness and feebleness are never more ignobly patent,

than when he is brought face to face with nature upon the ocean. See him as he scans the horizon with anxious and fearful eye, watching for an enemy which he knows is his master; mark him, when that enemy appears, cringing and shrinking from the shock of battle, his ship tossing helplessly with folded and bedraggled wings, as if seeking to become so small and insignificant that the storm will sweep over her bowed head in contemptuous pity.

But what a different aspect man presents when braving and contending with perils such as those to which our overland immigrants were exposed. They were not so much at the mercy of capricious elements, to drive them hundreds of miles out of their course or retard their journey for months. Upon their own strength, courage, and endurance they relied. Having determined their route they set their faces westward, and westward by that route they went until their goal was reached, opposing force with force, meeting danger, difficulty, and hardship, without flinching, conquering every foot of the way by their own indomitable will. Yet, alas! many here fell by the way, as we have

seen.

CHAPTER VI.

THE VOYAGE TO CALIFORNIA-NEW YORK TO CHAGRES.

Some set out, like crusaders of old, with a glorious equipment of hope and enthusiasm, and get broken by the way, wanting patience with each other and the world. -George Eliot.

EVERYBODY is supposed to know, though everybody does not know, that Phryxos fled from the wrath of his father Athamas, king of Orchomenus, in Boeotia, riding through the air to Colchis upon the ram with the golden fleece, which was the gift of Hermes. The ram was then sacrificed to Zeus, and the fleece given to King Etes, who hung it upon a sacred oak in the grove of Ares, where it was guarded night and day by an ever-watchful dragon. Pelias, king of Iolcos, in Thessaly, sent Jason his half brother's son, who claimed the sovereignty, with the chief heroes of Greece, in the ship Argo to fetch the golden fleece. Jason obtained the fleece, though Pelias had hoped he should have been destroyed. Of the Argonauts there were fifty in number, and among them Hercules, and the singer Orpheus, Castor and Pollux, Zetes and Calais, Mopus, Theseus, and others, the stories concerning whose enterprise, it is thought, grew out of the commercial expeditions of the Munyans to the coasts of the Euxine. Ulysses, returning from the seige of Troy, made a ten year's voyage, being driven about by tempests, during which time he underwent many strange adventures. Other Mediterranean mythological voyages there were, and hypothetical navigations to the near shores and islands of the Atlantic and Indian oceans; following which were

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the voyages of the Scandinaviars, those fierce Norsemen that were the terror of all the maritime nations of northern Europe, and the first known discoverers of America. Then there were the voyages of the Portuguese round Africa, and of the Spaniards to America; there were the Dutch voyages for conquest, and the English voyages of circumnavigation; there were voyages of discovery, commercial voyages, voyages for purposes of war, science, and religion, for pleasure, profit, and proselyting, but never since the sea was made has there been seen such voyaging as the trip to California during the flush times. And never shall the sea behold such sights again; never shall tempest sport such tangled human freight, nor the soft tropical wind whisper of such confused and desultory cargoes as those which swept the main in ships from every point in search of the new golden fleece.

As compared with contemporaneous trans-Atlantic navigation, the voyage from New York to San Francisco by way of the Isthmus presents entirely distinct features. It was an episode individual and peculiar ; a part, and no small part, of the great uprising and exodus of the nations; it was the grand pathway of pilgrims from all parts of the eastern world; it was brimfull of romance and comedy, of unnumbered woes and tragedy, enlivened now and then by a disaster which sent a thrill throughout the civilized world. It was a briny, boisterous idyl, where courage bore along slippery passage-ways, and love lounged upon canopied decks, and sentiment in thin muslin cooed in close cabins, and vice and virtue went hand in hand as friends.

The California voyage occupied twice the time of the trans-Atlantic; the steamers employed in the former were large, standing well out of water, and capable of carrying from 700 to 1,500 passengers, while those of the latter were lower and smaller. In the character of the passengers, those by European