an illuminating journal, published as _Life on the Plains_, in 1854. These and many other publications have been consulted in editing the Frizzell journal. THE JOURNAL PREFACE Agreeable to my promise I now set down to write the incidents of my journey to Callifornia. Having taken notes by the way, I shall be able by the assistance of my memory, to give you a full & accurate account of the "trip." It is now about the middle of December,[1] I am here in midst of the Sierra Nevada rightly named snowy mountains, the snow has been constantly falling for the last ten days & still it has not abated; it is now some ten or twelve feet in this place (Canyan Creek[2]) & on the mountain tops, fifty or more, there is no passing or repassing at present, I am shut up in my room, the snow having completely blocked up both doors and windows, I therefore have lighted my candles & sat down to amuse myself & "while the tideous hours away" by giving you my narative. FOOTNOTES: [1] December, 1852. [2] Canyon Creek, a north branch of Trinity R., in Trinity Co., Cal. CHAPTER I FROM THE WABASH RIVER[3] TO ST. LOUIS We (that is George Westall Bethel Elliot, my husband[4] & myself) started for California on the 14th day of April, with five yoke of cattle one pony & sidesaddle, & accompanied by several of our friends & neighbors as far as the first town, where we parted & said our last _good by_, & turning westward which was to be our course for most of the way of our long journey. The first night we put up at widdow womans, we did not camp out, all though we had intended to commence camping from the start, but it goes so much "agin the grane" at first, & then there is so many fine people passing & repassing along the road, while you are eating your meal on a log, or stump, or the end board of your waggon, with your tin plates tin cups &c. For my part I felt _kinder streaked_[5] at first, especially while we traveled in the states. As I said we did not camp out the first night & having plenty of victuals with us went in made some tea, fried some eggs, eat our suppers, & were accomodated with a fine bed, which is a great luxury after a hard days travel; but my thoughts and reflections were such that I could not readily fall asleep. Who is there that does not recollect their first night when started on a long journey, the wellknown voices of our friends still ring in our ears, the parting kiss feels still warm uppon our lips, & that last seperating word _Farewell!_ sinks deeply into the heart. It may be the last we may ever hear from some or all of them, & to those who start for California there can be no more solemn scene of parting only at death; for how many are now sleeping in death on the lonely plains whose Farewell was indeed their last.