_July 22_ (Thursday). This day brought us a very tiresome and fatiguing march to Sulphur Springs, nineteen and two-thirds miles. The sun shot down its melting rays with overpowering intensity, and, to add to our misery, no water was found that was fit to drink. The bed of the creek was dry, a misfortune that we did not expect, as the stream where we crossed it was quite deep. True, two puddles of stagnant water did present themselves to our longing eyes, but how grievous was our disappointment when, upon tasting, the water proved to be brackish and sulphurous. Yet, such was the thirst of our men, that some took a hearty drink of it, although the majority reluctantly resumed the march, looking eagerly in the distance as we reached the summit of each successive hill, to see if we could descry the sparkling flash of water. At the conclusion of our march several pools were discovered, near which we camped; but we found that these springs were also sulphurous. As we did not reach camp until dark our dinner was not ready until midnight, when all who preferred food to sleep partook of this most excellent cheer, by the light of a greasewood fire. Our teamsters, accompanied by the guard, were obliged to march a mile, after reaching camp, in order to get grass for the animals. This evening the expressmen who were sent a few days ago to Fort Bridger returned, bringing with them our mail. We soon forgot the fatigue of the body in the mental joys of the intercourse with our absent loved ones. _July 23_ (Friday). We marched sixteen miles and encamped on the bank of the Green River. Throughout the march, as yesterday, no water could be found that we could drink. Many of the men allayed their thirst by mixing molasses and vinegar. Vasco Nunez de Balboa was not more delighted at the discovery of the Pacific Ocean than were we at the sight of the cool, clear water of the river, to which we helped ourselves liberally. A rope ferry and a flatboat are kept here for the convenience of the Government troops and trains. We are once more favored with a grass bed instead of one of dust, and with white poplar wood for fuel, instead of buffalo chips. _July 24_ (Saturday). We merely crossed the river, our train being safely moved by noon to the west side, where we pitched our tents, once more on the sand. In the afternoon a high wind arose, which blew the sand about in such quantities that we were obliged to keep within our tents. But no place was exempt from the general plague, even our boxes, when opened, being found to have their contents covered with fine dust. _July 25_ (Sunday). We encamped on Blacks Fork, marching a distance of fourteen and a half miles.