July 5th. Gabilana. Four o'clock saw us on our way. We rode some hours along the valley, rich in grass, shade-trees and springs of delicious water; then came a steep ascent, and most of us had to walk. We lost another mule today, but before leaving it succeeded in getting it to the table-land at the top of the gorge we had just ascended. It was a beautiful grove of pines and plenty of short green grass was under foot, and, most welcome sight, a log house looking so like home that a dozen of the boys rode off to see "a white woman;" but their disappointment was great—it was simply the house of a Mexican who had been in Texas some years, and had learned how to live in a little comfort.
July 6th. Santa Borgia. The woods today were most luxuriant as we wound round the gorge that commenced again our ascent to some still higher mountains. Our common robin was abundant, and a large green parrot, with a red head, was seen in every clump of pines, but its uncouth squalling was distracting. Except the cardinal and other gros-beaks how few birds of splendid plumage have sweet voices.
July 7th. Pitochi. Today we have followed one of the most extraordinary gorges we have seen, crossing and winding along the banks of a beautiful little stream, till between giant precipices we had almost the sensation that they might tumble in to fill the gap and crush us. One particularly fine white cliff, we judged nine hundred feet above us; topped off with high towers of nearly white sandstone, its sharp lines broken by a straggling pine or scraggy cedar, growing in some of the many fissures, it was so grand that we left it with regret.
July 9th. Cerro Prieto. I saw today the first water-ousel I ever saw alive in America, and was enchanted with his movements, as he jerked his wren-shaped body with sprightly activity, or with whirring flight went from stone to stone, or suddenly plunged, in the most unnatural manner, into the foaming little torrent, and spread his wings half open, the pinions lowest. He headed up stream, keeping at the bottom, and went about feeding in the crevices of the rocks with as much ease, if not as rapidly, as a bird in the air.
July 10th. Early as we start, no one murmurs. I am writing a few yards apart from Mess No. 12, a queer lot. Rhoades, who has crossed the plains from Fort Independence to Santa Fé eleven times, and Barrat, a wagoner of the Mexican War, are both very original, and perhaps would not get on well with the others but for Dr. Trask, a truly good man, who is their Captain. It is a misty morning, fire more of smoke than warmth, tent wet, blankets cold and clammy, and we are waiting for them to dry before packing. The roll has been called, and each mess is preparing breakfast. I hear Dr. Trask courteously ask: "Are those plates clean?" and Rhoades's nonchalant answer: "To be sure they are, didn't we eat off 'em last night."
July 12th. Concepcion. Yesterday we passed oaks with a heavy leaf, glazed on the top, so as to look as rich as the magnolia grandiflora of Louisiana. Raspberries are abundant but not ripe, and strawberries plentiful. We camped on ground covered with dwarf huckleberries, and a species of plantain of which our mules ate freely, but the horses sparsely.
July 14th. We commenced our day with the ascent of a steep rocky hill, with the trail cut in by the mules much in the manner of those we had seen before, and the road at first was so steep that we had to lead our horses. One of our mules gave out completely and we had to leave it on the table land which is almost invariably the apex of these mountains. A beautiful grove of pines with short but good grass beneath, made a fine contrast of color. As we camped our usual storm came on more violent than usual, and we were drenched through. Lieut. Browning says: "The claps of thunder and flashes of lightning are very well done in this country."
July 18th. Our road today was by far the most tedious we have had, being up hill nearly all the time, but the view from the top almost repaid us, if not our mules, for the toil. We arrived at the highest top near Jesus Maria; miles of mountain tops and peaks of rock and woods are far below us. Through a gap we looked at clouds blending with the mists below them, until the scene was like an ocean view.
Four hours and a half of most precipitous descent brought us to a luxuriant growth of pine and spruce, and passing through one of the wildest and most picturesque gorges I have ever seen, we came to the extraordinary little town of Jesus Maria, situated at the junction of two little torrents of clear, beautiful water, tumbling in noisy, joyous splashing from rock to basin, and carrying away the rubbish from this half-civilized settlement of miners as it passes through the town.
July 19th. Jesus Maria. Gold and silver are both found here, and the rock which contains these ores is soft and easily ground; the most common way of grinding seems to be a flutter wheel fastened to a shaft, which turns on another within the inner circle; this inner one is water tight, and two large stones are pulled round by ropes of rawhide fast to the wheel, which is about three feet from the ground. These are trailed round and smash the ore for two or three days; it is then dried, pulverized and washed. Sometimes simple washing, and sometimes with amalgam of quicksilver, gives the result of eight to ten marks of silver to the cargo, viz:—three hundred pounds. Gold is much more variable in its profits.