Dec. 1st. Finding all our efforts unavailing, and that none around us were succeeding, we visited Aqua Frio some days since, and have now removed here. There does not appear to be much doing here, but it is a larger settlement, but few now remaining at Sherlock’s. It is, on this account, more safe from the encroachments of the Indians, and provisions are more easily obtained. These are, however, constantly rising. Each dash of rain adds one or two shillings a pound to the price of every article. This is owing to the fact that, as the rains render the roads worse, the price for transportation proportionally increases. We are now paying $1 50 a pound for provisions. The price of a barrel of flour here would go far toward supporting a family at home for a year. Four pounds of hard, moldy bread for our mule cost us about $6. And yet, with these high prices, the miners in the best diggings in the region do not average $1 50 a day. We have not done this. Dec. 3d. Lying awake in my tent last night, I overheard three miners, who had come in partially intoxicated at midnight to their tent, within a few feet of us, talking over their plans. It seemed that one of them had just weighed the gold they had made that day, and found it nine ounces. They were to be up early, and start for the same place again. I conformed my movements to theirs the next forenoon, with an experienced miner for a companion. With our picks and spades, we soon reached the place where they were at work. They were in the middle of the channel, having turned the stream from its course, up to their knees in the mud and water, while one of their number was constantly employed in “bailing out.” We prospected near them for a few hours, as they told us many others had done, unsuccessfully. They did not themselves expect to find employment for more than two days, the deposit already beginning to fail. Dec. 4th. There was a large fall of snow last night, which pressed so heavily upon our tent that it fell in upon us; but we kept our beds till morning, the bank of snow above us adding not a little to the warmth of our blankets. I went down, after breakfast, to the diggings, and brushing away the snow, and breaking the ice, attempted to wash out some gold in a pan; but I made nothing. Becoming thoroughly chilled, with my hands and feet frost-bitten, I returned to my tent; but here it is almost as bad. The canvas, of which our tent is made, is under the snow, our provisions _scarce_, the fire out, and the day very cold. Two of my companions, feeling the pressure of hunger, went to the tent of an acquaintance, where they found some venison steaks and bread, which had been left at breakfast. They made their dinner from these, being comforted by the thought that some ciote or stray dog would bear the blame. What renders our situation more deplorable is the want of proper clothing. Good boots are so scarce that $96 are readily given for a pair.