extending North and South; and on our left, the Snowy Butte, a lofty isolated peak, rises from the bosom of an extensive plain, far into the region of eternal snow, and gives rise to the West branch of the Sacramento River, which we struck in ten miles after leaving the Clamuth Valley, and continued down it, frequently crossing and recrossing the stream. Fifteen miles below the point where we first struck this stream, we came to a Soda spring, bursting out from the foot of a high hill, and running into a small basin, formed by travelers or Indians, for the convenience of drinking. The water of this Spring is strongly impregnated with some other mineral. From this Soda Spring, we proceeded down the River, through the Sacramento Hills, which are high, steep, and rugged; covered with timber, and almost destitute of grass. The rock in these hills is principally a coarse granite; but that forming the channel of the River is volcanic. In passing through these hills we were still compelled to cross and recross the stream, in order to find a passable way, which, in its whole course, until it reaches the head of the Valley, a distance of one hundred miles, is full of falls, rapids, and narrow canions. Having come to the head of the Valley, we took the west side of the River, which here begins to assume a different character, losing its irregularity and rapidity, and flowing with a more even current. Continuing down the Valley, on the West side, we found, all along on the River, villages of Indians, living in miserable huts made of poles, set on end in a circle on the ground, leaned
