OVERLAND.--We commence the publication of a paper today that cannot fail to be interesting to a great majority of our readers; the diary of H. R. SCHUTT Esq. of a journey across the plains and mountains to California and Oregon. We are all familiar with the story of travel to California at present, in palace cars, with all the conveniences and luxuries of civilized life at command, and a recital of the toil, delays, hardships and varied experiences of passage over the same route by tedious wagons and horses will present a striking contrast to the present method. The story, although in the form of a diary, is told in an interesting manner, by one who evidently had his eyes open, and will not flag in interest to the end.
National Democrat, Cassopolis, Michigan, May 15, 1873, page 5


    [PREFACE--The following pages are designed to portray the scenes incident to the journey across the plains, in the early times of emigration, when the principal countries of the earth were aroused by the golden reports of California and the inviting climate and fruitful soil of Oregon. They contain descriptions of every noticeable feature of scenery, of mountain and desert, of animals, and the natural human inhabitants of our western wilds, of accidents and incidents that came to our knowledge or observation.]
    MARCH 22nd, 1850.--Upon this date, having our preparations for the West completed, Jno. C. Peebles and myself start from his residence a few miles northwest from Elkhart, Indiana, with a light but substantial covered wagon and four horses, having bedding and cooking implements for our journey, and expecting to be joined by Jas. H. Foster at Council Bluffs, he, for the present remaining in Elkhart, to put his business in shape to leave. His route will then be by the way of St. Louis for supplies for our journey upon the plains.
    As but little of interest is likely to occur in passing through the settled portions of states on our way to Council Bluffs, the principal starting point for emigrants from the northern states, but little more will be given than an index of our travel, and the places through which we pass. We take the farewell of home, and with good weather night finds us at Carlisle Hill.
    March 23--From Carlisle Hill to City West.
    March 23--City West to Calumet, the prairie roads are excessively disagreeable at this early season of the year.
    March 25--Today we reach Chicago by [omission] p.m.; stop at the Baltic House and ramble about the city, making slight purchases, and finding out our best route for further travel.
    March 26--With fine weather, and good roads, we travel to Napierville in company with others, who, like ourselves, are
    March 27--Today we reach Little Rock. The nights are cold, and the half-frozen sloughs are not agreeable, but gold is a magnet that swims a river, or climbs the mountain.
    March 28--We reach Paw Paw and are in company with other emigrants every day.
    March 29--From Paw Paw to Dixon, where we cross Rock River in rough, hilly prairie country.
    March 30--Travel over good roads, make a short day's travel and camp out in a grove.
    March 31--This day we travel through a good country and reach the Mississippi at Albany, where we camp in good pasturage, surrounded by many emigrants.
    April 1--We ferry over the Mississippi, which we now behold in reality, instead of dreamy visions of the geography lessons of former years. We ponder upon this as we look upon the gigantic stream, and can relish the practice of studying geography by personal observation. We are now in Iowa and stop for night, a few miles out from the river at DeWitt.
    April 2--We travel through good country, some hills, some timber and reach Buena Vista.
    April 3--We travel to Tipton and lay over one day.
    April 5--From Tipton we drive over rolling prairie; some timber in the country; camp out.
    After this we travel over very rolling country, near some heavy Indian trails that led the remainder of our journey to Council Bluffs. We passed through Iowa City where we visited the State House, and, obtaining the keys from a gentlemanly official, we strolled over the splendid structure, finding ourselves at one time at the top, where we had the city and surrounding country spread far below us, a faithful map.
    We crossed the Des Moines River at the fort, and good weather but scanty grass at length found us at Kanesville, surrounded by thousands of California emigrants, encamped in the bottoms and ravines. The lines of travel reaching this place have had their harvest from the emigrants this spring in the exorbitant price of hay, oats and corn. As we found corn very scarce, we made a trip south until within sight of the hills of Missouri, near Austin, where corn has moderated to $1.25 per bushel.
    April 11--We are encamped opposite the mouth of the Platte River for an indefinite time, waiting for grass to advance sufficiently to invite us out upon our journey, also, for the arrival of Mr. Foster with supplies for the route. Kanesville is a few miles from the Missouri River, out of the bottom land (which is subject to overflow) and just among the hills. Trader's Point and Council Point are small villages within a few miles upon the river. The inhabitants are principally Mormons temporarily settled, intending to emigrate to Salt Lake, while other proselytes from Europe and elsewhere take their places in turn to travel. There are some Mormon notables at Kanesville, we are told, among them are Elds. Hyde and Pratt.
    April 28--Today we observe a steamer approaching the landing, and on nearing us we discovered Foster on board. He has stores for our outfit, but we soon learn that his health will not warrant an immediate move. We move out 18 miles, to the Booga [Boyer?] River, that Foster may have the benefit of medical attendance by an M.D., whose acquaintance he had made on board the steamer. Here we are detained some days, only to arrange to travel by the last of May.
    May 31--Forward at last! We cross the Missouri River at Trader's Point into Indian country. While lying here a day or two before crossing the river, the Pawnees made a descent upon the Otoes, capturing about 40 horses and killing a few of their tribe. This aroused the savages so that an Oto Indian, having a Pawnee squaw, captured a few years since, stabbed, scalped, and left her lying in the clay pit at the ferry landing nearly all day, but this outraged the feelings of the emigrants so that they compelled the Indian to bury her, which he did in a grave two feet deep, and shabbily covered, which was soon obliterated by the emigrant stock. This is our first introduction to the style of executive justice adopted by savages.
    June 1--
    But as we leave no widows, nor orphans, we expect to go to California, to swim rivers if necessary, or climb mountains, or outrun Indians when our scalps are endangered. I only mean that we made an attempt at an organization for traveling in company, and started over a fair stretch of country accompanied by a ferryman and reached the Elkhorn River in good time to camp, having traveled twenty-seven miles.
    June 2--We travel from Elkhorn River to the junction with the road from Winter Quarters. On our road today, we met about two hundred Indians returning from a hunt and fight. They had many horses laden with buffalo skins and meat. They seemed jovial and were inquisitive, examining every wagon, and seeming as communicative as the disadvantage of our language would permit.
    June 3--Today we pass over rolling prairie, do a moderate day's travel and arrive at Shell Creek; good weather; poor grass; good wood.
    June 4--This morning we take the wagons across a little rickety willow bridge by hand, and being now in company with 30 men and a number of wagons, we proceed across bottom land, and reach Platte River, where we find good camp for the night.
    June 5--Rainy day; we move camp but three miles. We find plenty of fish in the Platte River.
    June 6--Today we pass Looking Glass Creek, five miles from starting, thence to Beaver River, where we use the rest of the day in making a willow bridge, carrying over the baggage, swimming the stock across, and take the wagons across by attaching long ropes, and getting upon the opposite shore, we draw them through the river. We are now according to our guide 103¾ miles from Council Bluffs. Just before dusk, we circle out to capture a wolf that has been discovered from camp, when a chase of two miles over the hills takes it to some Indians, and reveals his ownership as a dog. Of course we look at each other and retreat with a joke that will last for a number of days.
    June 7--Leave camp this morning, and pass by the remains of an old Indian village, that was burned by the Sioux in 1737 [sic]. We continue, and cross Plum Creek and Ash Creek, and several miles further brings us to camp seven miles below the ford on the Loup Fork. We have seen more game today than formerly. Elk bounding away miles ahead. The most beautiful little antelopes fleeing away before us. Deer and wolves in abundance, the latter in sight almost constantly. Distance from Council Bluffs 114¼ miles.
    June 8--We move up to the ford; examine the river, and find the best place to cross is where we first came to it. The river is 100 rods [1,650 feet] wide. We raise the wagon boxes as high as the stakes will allow, to prevent wetting the loads. This we do by putting short props upon the axles under the box. We attach long ropes to a wagon, string out our men at the sides of the wagon, and keeping the wagon right side up, we get the end of the rope across where we have a team already across to draw the wagon over, and get up the bank, and in this laborious way, in water to our waists, we get four wagons across and our camp is divided upon the sides of the river for night.
    June 9--We again commence moving the remaining wagons over the river, which detained us until one p.m., when we concluded to remain in camp for the day, as the work of the day had been laborious under the scorching sun. Here we saw a dead beaver floating down the river, which was a curiosity to us. We also saw white wolves in this section, and animals we cannot name.
    June 10--Today we traveled over prairie country in a southwest direction; saw plenty of deer and antelope, and at night camped in the open country. The entire Platte Valley is an open prairie, very lightly grassed out upon the bluffs, and in many places heavy sandy road.
    June 11--Fine weather for traveling. We come to Wood River; raise our loads and ford it, thence on until we strike the main Platte River and camp. Today we saw the first buffalo of the trip; one of the party shot one, but was unhorsed in the operation, and six miles from camp, so we fail to get beef.
    June 12--A day's travel, crossing Elm Creek in open country; good weather; grass improving; neither accident or incident is the record today.
    June 13--A good day's travel. We come in sight of other trains fore and aft. Cross Buffalo Creek. We see that companies ahead have killed many buffalo, but the season is not yet advanced enough for the main herd from Texas.
    June 14--We still pass on with good weather and roads. We are now, according to our guide, 260 miles from the Bluffs. The "guide" is a pamphlet made by the Mormons, describing the route to their settlement at Salt Lake, and the emigration is well supplied for them. We find it entirely reliable. We pass Willow Lake, Ptah Lake and pass on over as good roads as any in the States.
    June 15--Today we pass on up the Platte; the valley is from two to six miles wide; grass better; roads good.
    June 16--We lay up and fix for the route ahead; that is, that we make a note of the gentle hint in the Guide that tells us that we are to have no wood for two hundred miles. Hence, we do some baking and boiling. We are three hundred and six miles from Council Bluffs.
    June 17--As usual, a good day's travel. Pass Black Mud Creek and arrive at Bluff Creek; good weather; and very good roads. Feed is excellent; many wagons now left along that had freighted corn on the start.
    June 18--Today we pass several small creeks in short distances from each other, marked as Petile, Picanini, Goose, Duck, Weed, Shoal, Rattlesnake, Cedar Bluffs, and find camp on Camp Creek. We have a buffalo chase. We saw one down by the river, some distance from the road, and eight of the boys start immediately down on each side of him. He discovered his enemies and started for the bluffs; several shots were fired at him as he passed up, but to no purpose. As he neared the train, the dog was sent out and was soon with him, and by this time, being wearied, he turned upon the dog for fight, but finally succeeded in making his escape, pursued by four of the boys.
    June 19--This morning there is considerable anxiety in camp. The four boys that left the train yesterday in pursuit of the buffalo did not get into camp with us at night. Some were without coats, and the night was cold, but we find them as we journey about 10 a.m. upon the road. Wolves plenty, and in great variety, which did not add materially to their comfort through the night.
    Straying from the trains, for various reasons, is a common occurrence among emigrants, occasioned by straying cattle, game or curiosity. But in all cases, as there is but one road in the country, the effort of the wanderer is to reach the road ahead of his train, but as there is an enormous emigration this year, we can frequently get information whether a certain train is ahead or behind us.
    We make a good day's travel, crossing several creeks, which were noted in our guide as Pond Creek, Wolf Creek, Watch Creek, and Castle Creek. Also, we pass the "lone tree," a noted object upon this 200 miles of prairie travel. It stands upon our side of the river, just upon the brink, and being a long distance from the road is seldom visited by emigrants.
    We also passed the meridian of Ash Hollow, which we can see across the river. It is a lovely camp, with a beautiful grove in a capacious ravine. The route from St. Joseph and Independence comes across from South Platte and follows up to Laramie.
    June 20--Early this morning, the grand hailing signal of the prairie went though the camp. This was simply the cry of "Buffalo." A dozen of our riflemen were instantly ready, but caution prevented an immediate move, as five buffalo were coming down from the bluffs across the bottom to the river to drink, sixty or eighty rods from our camp. We were all impatient, but had to wait until they had disappeared down behind the perpendicular wash bank, by a single path that admitted them to the water.
    We then made a cautious circle, surrounding their entrance to the river, and as were closed up to the bank, the advantage was all on our side. We gave them a salute, and they instantly started for shore, their eyes flashing with determination, and thoroughly intent upon escape. But the narrow pass that admitted them to the river required them to observe the usual tactics of all our western countries, which is simply Indian file, or one at a time.
Hiram Rockafeller Schutt in the National Democrat, Cassopolis, Michigan, May 15, 1873, page 1


    [PREFACE--The following pages are designed to portray the scenes incident to the journey across the plains, in the early times of emigration, when the principal countries of the earth were aroused by the golden reports of California and the inviting climate and fruitful soil of Oregon. They contain descriptions of every noticeable feature of scenery, of mountain and desert, of animals, and the natural human inhabitants of our western wilds, of accidents and incidents that came to our knowledge or observation.]
    Half a dozen balls took effect, disabling some as they passed up, but a single ball does so little execution that we were apprehensive that all would escape.
    But the foremost dropped at the road, two of the others were lamed, and on the approach of the last one I jumped into a pass ahead of him, which brought him to a halt, and as he circled around in the two-foot water we all had time to reload, and he soon fell and was taken down by the current to a bend below, where he was drawn out by a company encamped on the bank. We could easily afford to divide with them, having more than we wanted. We carved out what we wanted, and left the rest for a subject of debate between the wolves and crows. This was a genuine western scene with us, and being transacted on the level prairie valley, the entire transaction could be witnessed without obstruction. The approach; the surround; the salute; the capture; the sending of supplies to a distant garrison by water, without a supercargo; their reception of the same all transacted within an hour. We make a good day's travel, pass several dry creeks, and arrive at camp on Crab Creek. We are not 409 miles from Council Bluffs.
    June 21--We travel until noon and camp for the day, for the purpose of making an new axletree for one of the wagons in the company. Fair camp; roads good; weather fine.
    June 22--A moderate day's travel; saw a few Indians crossing the Platte. Rain symptoms.
    June 23--Heavy rain in the night. Heaven's arsenal seems well supplied with the best of ammunition in this region, for I have never seen such lightning nor heard such terrific thunder, and a rain means the ejectment of a cloud from above bodily, for it is not a very uncommon event that emigrants have to move out of the creek bottoms where they are encamped, in the night, on account of the sudden overflow of the creeks, but it seems characteristic of storms that they come suddenly and disappear.
    We pass the "Ruins," which are a good representation of ancient castles and fortifications; but the Guide cautions us about rattlesnakes, and our visit is short. We can see Chimney Rock far ahead, south of the river, appearing about the size of a wigwam; we keep it in sight all day.
    June 24--Today we have fine weather and good roads, and reach Chimney Rock meridian. The Rock, at our distance, appears to be a huge pile of earth surmounted by a perpendicular rock of great height, and finally capped by a single upright stone resembling a chimney, which gives it its name.
    We are in sight of the emigration on the south side of the river, and can see their tents at all times during the day, and their road shows a heavy travel. We expect to join them at Fort Laramie, as we have to cross the river at that point.
    June 25--We make a good day's travel, and pass the meridian of Scott's Bluffs, which is a noted bluff on the south side of the river. The legend that named the bluff was told me, but is now too faint in memory to attempt a repetition. [Like many overland accounts, Schutt is embellishing his diary decades after the fact.]
    We saw some Sioux Indians coming from a fight with the Pawnees, but they avoided conversation and we got but little information.
    June 26--Today we strike timber for the first time in two hundred miles. Cross Raw Hide Creek before noon, and camp soon after for the balance of the day, for the sole purpose of doing a little baking once more. We are 515 miles from Council Bluffs, and but seven miles from Fort John or Laramie Ford. We have had to watch our travel on foot frequently on account of the prickly pear, which shows several varieties, armed with sharp, stiff thorns, which sometimes pierce through common leather into the feet of pedestrians, and it is a source of much annoyance to dogs, making them lame. A dog is a special favorite with emigrants upon this trip, for we have no guard at night except old Beaver, a heavy black-and-white bulldog, and an item for the naturalist is to see him follow the river bank and drink at every opportunity, while the road at times is over a mile from the river.
    We are all anxious to see the Fort, and, near night, we move up and camp at the ford with a large company of emigrants. A terrific storm came up and demolished every tent in camp, and caused us to extinguish the camp fires for safety.
    June 27--This morning finds us in sight of the Fort. We obtain a ferry boat and take ourselves across; pay $2 each wagon, then swim the stock across, and it is musical to hear the melody of the commands given to horses and oxen as we attempt to harness, and yoke and start away from the ferry; two hundred throats at once are in use on such monosyllables as whoa, git up, come here, haw, gee, and the whole vocabulary of the teamster, with endless repetitions, until the permutations are completed, and we shift out from the artillery of whips and voices into a line of march for the Fort, where we stay an hour or two, and here we learn the reason for seeing so many tents stretched on the road south of the river every day, and at all times of the day. The emigration has been scourged with cholera, and we learn as many as eight persons were buried in one grave, and very frequently more than one.
    There are a number of orphans at the Fort to be returned by government to the States. The tie that had, in many instances, been recently made found no respecter of persons in the relentless scourge, and widows as well as widowers are journeying on having personal charge of teams.
    And through surrounding circumstances forbid any unnecessary sojourn, yet many a vivid picture is carried wearily along of some shaded vale, or sunny prairie knoll where the second edition in the chapter of life was enacted, containing the last farewell, so different from the first, containing the vows of eternal attachment.
    While here, in conversation with a soldier, we are told that the apparent chaparral or brush that we discern far ahead upon the route in the distant mountains is, in fact, pine timber, two feet through.
    We find no need of company organization for guard or safety, as the whole line is populated. We drive out about five miles and camp. We have had Laramie Peak in sight for a number of days. This is the most prominent peak in the Black Hills. There is a road upon the north side of the Platte River, but we preferred this route, from representations at the fort.
    June 28--We have rough, rocky, hilly roads today. Pass Porter's Rock to the left of the road, a singular, isolated perpendicular rock, perforated by various sized orifices, apparently the work of human hands, and a mile further, we go down a long, steep, sandy descent pass a warm spring, bitter creek, and cross it again in about a mile. Soon after we are on a sharp bend to the south, to avoid a frightful gorge or ravine, and eighty rods [1,320 feet, a quarter mile] travel brings us back within easy conversing distance across the ravine. Rough traveling; scattering pine; scanty camps; much company is part of the description of our surroundings. Considerable sickness; roads strewn with clothing, lead, gun barrels, irons from wagons, and log chains. We cross several creeks at short intervals, and camp on "fifth" creek.
    June 29--Rough roads; pass the La Bonte eight miles from camp, thence five miles brings us to camp on a branch of La Bonte. Good water; scant grass; plenty of wood. We are now five hundred and eighty-eight miles from Council Bluffs.
    June 30--We stay encamped today. We have much splendid scenery about us, and find the timber as represented by the soldier at Fort Laramie. The emigrant is frequently deceived on distances in the mountains; the air is clear; and long views are easily had from the elevations.
    July 1--We have the usual rough, rocky, hilly roads today. We travel some miles over red sand, the timber dwarfed and scattering. Travel down the bed of a creek nearly eighty rods. This morning before leaving our camp we filled a fine trunk with clothes, strapped an overcoat on the top, and left it upon the camp ground. Emigrants begin to leave everything that is not actually needed upon the route regardless of its value.
    July 2--Today our route has been across desert country. We are in an inviting country for a mineralogist, for we find many curious and handsome specimens of different kinds, among which are jet, mineral tallow, an inferior opal, and some scotch marble. Cutters tell me that they discovered as fine native marble as they ever saw. But our knowledge of the science is just sufficient to be aggravating. We carved our names in the blocks of mineral tallow, where we found an entire hill of it cropping out at one side and falling down in cubes.
    We crossed La Prele River today. We have seen no Indians since we left Ft. Laramie. It is said that they fear infectious diseases, with which they have been heretofore scourged, and hence avoid the emigrant route. We have poor camp at night.
    July 3--We travel as before, and while pursuing a westerly course, we come upon the brow of the hill at the foot of which we cross Box Elder Creek and three miles after, the Forchee Boise River thence four miles brings us near the Platte River again, thence four miles to Deer Creek, a pleasant valley, fine groves, good grass and water and a few miles further brings us to camp on Deep Muddy.
    We remain in camp today with a sick man, Ezra Ingram, but having a doctor in our company, we do not expect to be detained long. I mean no ambiguity. We find plenty of fish and game here. Antelope are constantly in sight. They are smaller than the common deer, and have small black horns, shaped like the pike hooks of lumbermen, having two prongs, one straight, the other bent or hooked forward. These are captured by stratagem very readily, for we have but to get a good position secreted by the tall grass, and raise a hat or handkerchief cautiously upon a ramrod, which is soon observed by the watchful animal, and its own inquisitiveness draws it within the fatal distance. They are, I think, the fleetest animal of the prairie. Of the many we saw running none appeared to be hurried, whether the fright was from dog, or gunshot, for I have seen swift dogs with the advantage of a near start left alone in a few minutes. On one occasion I saw three shots fired at one from three successive stations, the animal increasing its speed at each fire, and yet apparently at its leisure. Some of us start for the mountain to hunt, but after a long tramp the mountain appeared no nearer, and we retreat with a little western experience.
    July 5--Still stay encamped, on account of our sick man, who is much worse; I am called in from a hunt near the mountains by request of the doctor, for I have talked hydropathy with him for a long distance back, and have some works with me upon the treatment of disease, and on reaching camp I find the death sentence whispered. But Joel Shew, J. H. Rausse and myself, assisted by the little doctor, effected a change, and the man is much better before night.
    Some of our hunters killed some mountain sheep, a wild and exceedingly shy animal, somewhat known as bighorn from the extraordinary size of their horns. We have seen the horns of these animals along the road, and often wondered to what manner of sheep they belonged. But our captures explain the matter. The animal is not as large as the common sheep, more chubby in body and flesh more compact, and the enormous size of the horns seem to be in undue proportion to the body. They simulate the horns of the common sheep, and are at least four times the size of the largest. The dirty, coarse, hairy attempt at wool will not compare favorably with the coat of the merino of settled countries, but its flesh we think superior.
    July 6--A portion of our company roll out of camp, some staying with Ingram, who is still gaining, but unable to travel.
    Twelve miles finds us at our last interview with the Platte River, which we here find coming to us from a direction a little west of south. We have to cross it here and leave it; some distance up the river we can see some very red bluffs on the right hand. We swim the stock over and ferry the wagons, which makes much detention as we have to wait our turn for the boat, and barely have time to cross and camp. We seem to sacrifice some attachment in leaving the Platte, for as we have traveled it has been with us ever since leaving the States at the Missouri River, a distance of near 650 miles. A constant aggregation of stock has impoverished the grass here, making it a poor camp.
    July 7--By our gentle guide, we find our latitude 42º50'18" and altitude 4,875 feet. We travel south and west, and in the distance to the south we see some scenery in the shape of high perpendicular rocks of various forms and various colors. We have very rough road. We pass Mineral Spring and Lake, then Alkali Swamps. After leaving Mineral Springs we pass through a sharp canyon, between almost vertical rocks for some distance, where even a stranger could not go wrong, for it is scarcely possible to get out of the single track through the Rocky Avenue. We travel 29 miles and reach camp at Willow Springs. Our guide cautioned us to avoid Alkali Swamp and Springs.
    While in this region we see many horses and oxen, and some men that suffer, and in many cases die from the effect of alkali water, and notices are posted at some streams by the advance to caution those in the rear.
    We find camp at Willow Springs; poor grass; water good but scarce; we have to improve the spring by digging, and then find but a scant supply for the large company camped here. The drain from the spring is very miry, and dangerous to the poor ox or horse that is enticed into it by a few spires of grass growing in it.
    Here too, is the region of the grizzly bear, the strongest and most formidable animal in the mountains. A story is told here that a single grizzly took an ox out of the mud where it had died, drew it up the steep four-foot bank and there wrenched off its under jaw and took it away. Mountains piled up in endless profusion of shape and size. No timber in sight, but the little willow thicket at the spring, always except the scanty sage which seems to require no soil, and is indigenous to a great portion of the route across the plains.
    July 8--Up early and secure what water we need; leave camp and a mile up hill takes us to the top of Prospect Hill, where we have a very extensive view in every direction, including the Sweetwater Mountains. After this we cross an outrage of a slough on lower ground, and several small creeks, one named Greasewood and finally camped on Sweetwater. This is truly a bitter region; desert country; alkali water; greasewood; artemisia and sage; plenty of sand; no soil.
    July 9--Today we move out to better grass, for now. Among the emigrants in our vicinity as well as many that have preceded us the loss of stock is an everyday occurrence. Scarcely ever are we out of sight of dead stock along the road or near it. As yet we have seen but one dead mule. We are within sight of plenty of snow in the mountains, while the work of harvesting is probably going on in the country we left last spring.
    July 10--As we are in a satisfactory place, we stay camped for the benefit of the team, and a hundred wagons pass us today.
    July 11--We pass over to Sweetwater River; pass Independence Rock, a noted object of the route, a bare bold granite measuring 1800 feet in length, and 360 feet in width and of forbidding height to the traveler. The level sod of the valley meets it squarely at the base, and in every available place the names of visitors appear in a variety of styles, from the coarse tar or black paint to the more symmetrical carving of the practiced chisel.
    We also pass the Devil's Gate, where the Sweetwater passes through a huge gateway of stone 400 feet in perpendicular height, an object worthy of special notice. Roads very sandy, no timber but greasewood and wild sage. During this day's journey we can look away to the north of west and see the giant proportions of the Rocky Mountains standing in close proximity to the skies, as if nature intended them for a natural impassable divide between hostile nations, or as a partition for the world. An emigrant by the name of Small had seventeen horses stolen from him last night, either by whites or Indians. But pursuit into the mountains proved ineffectual, save the discovery of a boot track with the horses, proving theft instead of straying.
    July 12--This morning we have a sick man in our company, Hiram Cranson from the eastern part of Michigan. His comrades, seven in number, and two wagons remain with him; the rest of us move on. We make a short drive and camp after making the four crossings of Sweetwater, in company with nearly a hundred wagons. Roads, heavy sand; grass scarce; good water ditto, for the river is impregnated with alkali. The days are warm; the nights cold; ice every morning. We are in a very high country, so says our kettle of beans when we are in a hurry for a meal, for they will stand the martyrdom of lively ebullition for hours with little change. [At the 7,519-foot elevation of Devil's Gate water boils at 198°F.]
    July 16--We travel sixteen miles without food or water. One of the company taken sick; we camp at ford number 5 on Sweetwater. No game or Indians in the country. Distance from Council Bluffs 759 miles.
    July 14--Encamped all day; sick man worse; bright days with high west winds every day, which has a tendency to produce mountain fever, a disease quite prevalent with emigrants. Another scourge upon this part of the route is the sore lips. This is done by facing the wind and traveling in the constant cloud of alkali dust which attends every moving train.
    July 15--Today we travel slowly over rough roads, described by rocks, sage and sand; distance 10 miles; sick man better. We cross Strawberry Creek, Quaking Asp Creek, and another branch of Sweetwater and camp on Willow Creek.
    It is now sixteen miles to the South Pass. There is a distinct ascent in every mile of the road. This is written after our day's travel of twenty miles. We met Easterlie's express and sent back letters. They had stationed at the South Pass in advance of the emigration, and had a large mail collected from emigrants.
    July 17--Travel about ten miles and camp again on the river. Foster is taken sick with the mountain fever, but hydropathy triumphs. Heavy roads; bright weather; country mountainous.
    July 18--Roads generally good today, and with fine dry weather we make a pleasure trip of the gradual prairie rise to the summit. The country is more pleasant here than much of that which we have traversed. We increase our altitude considerably today, though not abruptly at any point. All eyes are open among the many emigrants that throng the road here, as we pass up the seeming breach in the great chain of the Rocky Mountains by an open, smooth gradually ascending pass between the two symmetrical, smooth grassy prominences, on account of the similarity of which they are known as the Twin Mounds. The views from the level summit of the Pass are magnificent, on account of the variety presented. The eye takes in its range a seemingly sufficient area to comprise a state, shaped into every variety of valleys of different sizes,
Hiram Rockafeller Schutt in the National Democrat, Cassopolis, Michigan, May 22, 1873, page 1


    [PREFACE--The following pages are designed to portray the scenes incident to the journey across the plains, in the early times of emigration, when the principal countries of the earth were aroused by the golden reports of California and the inviting climate and fruitful soil of Oregon. They contain descriptions of every noticeable feature of scenery, of mountain and desert, of animals, and the natural human inhabitants of our western wilds, of accidents and incidents that came to our knowledge or observation.]
hills of all grades up to the point where a change of name is necessary.
    All of these scenes too are varied by the surface efforts of nature, in scattering here the drifting sand and there the stinted sod, and the prevailing sage, and far in the distant mountain we observe some indications of timber, apparently evergreen. Truly this is an interesting point to the wanderer who is under the most favorable conditions painfully aware that they have traveled a long journey. We look toward the country over which we have traveled, with a feeling of familiarity or acquaintanceship, and we look ahead with anxiety over the unknown region, and feel that we have yet a rough and rugged road to travel, perchance beset with thieves if not with murderers, and instances have been known of people losing their lives in places less suited to the convenience of bandits than this. But we lose no sleep, or even stand guard. At this point on our route, the emigrant that is tinctured with the romantic laments the dictates of the circumstance that bids him quiet his curiosity and strive for the termination of his journey, for here he could linger for weeks and yet long to remain. But chief among the attractions of this vicinity is the fact of its being the point of adieu to sunrise. We are conscious of being upon the great dividing ridge of North America. Our altitude is 7,075 feet in the road, though the mountains to the north and south of us tower to immense heights above this. Our distance from Council Bluffs is eight hundred miles. Here the divide of waters takes place. In all our journeying thus far, we have been conscious that the waters near which our camps were located were on their way to the Missouri which we regard as our old neighborhood, at this long distance. The accidental slant of a knoll at this point determines whether the destination of a raindrop shall be the Atlantic or Pacific. But we will not linger on description here; enough has been said to describe the tenor of the mind, though it require personal experience to give life to the picture. We pass up the smooth divide, and by the Pacific Springs; the journeying of this little rill is a mystery to us, as we are practically unacquainted with its journeying to the sea. We camp on Dry Sandy thirteen miles from South Pass; no wood but very little grass.
    July 19--Six miles brings us to the junction or forks of Salt Lake and Oregon roads. The Salt Lake road bears south, while ours is directly west and has the name of the Oregon route, for it was established by the emigration to that country before the gold of California opened the route to the mines. The Oregon and California emigration continue together however, until we pass the Soda Springs on Bear River. We make a desert drive of ten miles and camp on Big Sandy, having crossed Little Sandy on the way.
    We now have to cross a fifty-two-mile desert, and intend to remain in this poor scanty camp until tomorrow afternoon for the benefit of our jaded team. I am quite sick with mountain fever; it has been our practice from the start upon this route to travel on foot as much as possible to relieve the team, and the idea of being confined to the wagon is not agreeable to me, knowing that our poor horses have to work for every rod of the road. A desert country; no timber in sight.
    July 20--For our advantage in crossing the desert, we stay in camp until 4 p.m., when we start out intending to avoid the heat of the day by a night drive. It was difficult to observe the country as the night was dark, but it is safe to say that there was no danger of running against stumps, for two reasons; first, our team has not lately been guilty of running, and second, the devastating ax of the paleface has had no invitation to this region, where a tree is a novelty to the sight, and a luxury to the cook.
    Some distance into the night, a violent storm met us from the west and forced us to halt, as the teams refused to face it but took their position for a halt in spite of the efforts of the drivers. Here we remain two hours, and the storm is described as "terrific." We then proceeded, the darkness barely admitting of our keeping the road, until towards morning, when we stop to rest our much-worn  horses.
    July 19--We find ourselves in a genuine desert this morning, and as there is nothing to invite an unnecessary delay here, we are soon on the road, diligently and carefully traveling, for our teams need every advantage we can invent for their benefit upon the heavy sands, cut deep by the thousand wagons that have preceded us. There are many now in company, and as we labor along we pass teams that refuse to proceed without frequent temporary rests. The thick, stifling dust bears its part too in the work of exhaustion on the way, and this alone frequently tells us of moving trains, where too far distant to discern individual wagons or teams. At 4 p.m. the glad hurrah of a valuable discovery is sent back from the front, for Green River has been sighted. Need it be said that faces brighten and whips crack; or need we state that an ablution at the river brightened many a face still more? Twenty-four hours upon the desert. The river is large and rapid, seemingly as anxious to escape from the desert to more fertile regions as we are, and it affords the only boon of quenching thirst. This causes a lingering and, with the delay in crossing, the result is a congregation of many people and teams. We ferry over and camp in the sand. Our stock swims the river. I am still sick and have to ride constantly, but mountain fever is not called dangerous.
    July 22--A multitude is on the move early, horses are harnessed, oxen yoked, and the same babel of confusion that took place at Fort Laramie. We move out to the first invitation of grass and camp on account of the team.
    July 23--Stay encamped today for my benefit. I am quite sick, but my faithful companion Peebles is all attention.
    July 24--Having learned from an intelligent emigrant the day of the week, we give our correct longitude, finding that we are near the middle of the week. Travel seven miles and camp on my account.
    Start early but travel slow to accommodate me. This morning we saw the first Indians we have seen since leaving Laramie; fifteen or twenty came into camp to "swap" fish and skins for such things as they fancied. The country is as barren as ever; the team can but just live. There is almost a disconnected string of emigrants upon the road, many from Missouri. I am recruiting, owing to the exemption from travel on foot, and exclusion from the constant west wind within the cover of the wagon.
    July 26--We travel about fifteen miles and stop at a passable camp. We have a joint stock supper on sage hens, which we find plenty about here. They are a large gray fowl, somewhat simulating a half-grown turkey, and will answer very well as the ostrich of the American desert. These, and the large gray rabbit, compose the only game we discover in the country. The rabbits are larger than those of the States, and are said to be white in winter. We sometimes travel many miles without seeing an occasion to use our rifles. Although most of the emigration is in advance of us, yet I think there is a hundred teams here upon a distance of three miles.
    July 27--We travel about fifteen miles over rough mountains; still in sight of snow around us. The nights are cold. In this rough, mountainous, sandy, rocky, desert, uninhabitable country, the thought is suggested that if seven or eight days had been used instead of six at the creation, our geographies would have offered better inducements to the farmer from this country.
    July 28--We are now in Shoshone country. In the afternoon of this day we are made aware of our immense distance from the earth, by arriving at the brink of a mountain from whence we can see, many hundred feet below us, the little silver thread known as Thomas Fork of Bear River, broken and irregular, and our descent to it was like coming from the skies to earth, so terrible was the height, and steep the descent.
    Emigrant justice took place upon the road this morning. Two of the men who were with Mr. Small, who it will be remembered lost seventeen horses on the Sweetwater, made a raid upon his remaining stock, and by early rising and diligence got away from the train with three more of his horses and hurried on ahead, Mr. Small and another man pursuing. The thieves, thinking they were at a safe distance, had left the road and crossing a knoll they dismounted to take a sleep and let their horses graze, and in this condition, while fast asleep and in supposed security, Mr. Small and his companion came upon them, secured their guns, awakened them, and took them to the road where he stated his case to a halted train, and the decision was left with a jury that soon awarded one of them twenty and the other twelve lashes upon the bare back to be administered by a negro belonging to the train. The execution took place, and he who was stinted to twelve lashes had too much manliness to speak reproachfully of his companion receiving a more marked attention than himself. They are now some distance ahead and we will probably not overtake them.
    July 29--Heard from an almanac again, correcting our latitude for the day of the week. We travel 12 or 15 miles along Bear River; good weather; good camp; stunted cedar.
    July 30--About 15 miles over very hilly roads and camp on Bear River. Plenty of fish, trout and others.
    July 31--Today we travel about twenty miles. Good roads, grass and water; camped with one other wagon in an inviting ravine near a cottonwood grove a short distance from the river. We are in a game country; we see occasionally animals of different description for size and color that we cannot name; some Indians about. We are now nine hundred miles from Council Bluffs, and we have been two months on the road from there.
    August 1--Today we reach the Soda Springs, a noted curiosity of the route. There are many of them in this vicinity, but the largest one, or Steamboat Spring as it is called, is close beside the river, issuing from a flat table of rock in a perpendicular column of foam to the height of two feet, and flowing over the edge of the rock into the river. The smooth circular orifice from which it issues is about eight inches in diameter, and its violence beats it into a foam. The water is little more than milk warm and of a disagreeable bitter taste, but the French and Spanish traders here assert it to be healthy and they use it freely. We find that for bread we need no other ingredient with the flour, to ensure a light nice article. About three feet from the large spring in the same table of rock there is a small jet of water issuing at fitful intervals an inch in diameter, simulating the safety-valve of an engine, hence the name "Steamboat" Spring.
    The French traders furnish horses to the emigrants at $150 to $200 each, or exchange as they can agree. At this place the only pasturage for stock is across the river, where a large flat affords an extensive range all within sight of camp. On the side of the springs the general level is higher and is exceedingly rocky and rough, the hills composed of bare rocks with a few stunted cedars clinging to the cliffs. The surface forbids any attempt at soil or grass.
    August 2--We leave the region of curiosities and six miles west brings us to the junction of the California road with the Oregon route, and as the camps are so much reduced by heavy emigration ahead, we take the Oregon road, and make a square turn to the north up a little valley. At the forks of the road, the California road keeps directly west across the valley and is lost in the mountains again. Bear River at this point comes from the southwest and bends away to the east. The bank here is of high perpendicular rock, where water can only be obtained by rope and pail. We find many soda springs along the road today, as we pass up the valley. These springs form rock from a kind of deposit made in the water, and we see numerous rocks that appear to have contained springs from their shape, being raised sections or frustum of rough cones hollow and rough, as though time had raised the rocks to a level with the spring, then caused the waters to seek a new channel for exit, where the same operation was repeated. The waters of the numerous springs show a variety; others are exceedingly clear, with a light bluish tint and an apparent magnifying power, for the minutest object may be distinctly seen at any depth.
    Many time the thirsty traveler is foiled in the attempt to allay his thirst at these beautiful springs, finding the water bitter and unpalatable. We find we are passing up a pleasant little valley on our left, a range of low irregular rocky little hills at our right, and with a sprinkle of dwarf-cedar clinging about them.
    There is much of interest in this region, but it is overruled by the fatigues of the journey. The future mineralogist, with more leisure, will find an exhaustless field for research here. Besides the springs and the mountain scenery, which is superb, there is another attraction here in the form of rocks upon the surface, as well as fissures in the earth. The rocks bear volcanic marks, as is testified by their rough surface and want of organism.
    We observed several hollow ones [fissures], the largest of which lay upon the surface about thirty feet long and six feet high, resembling a huge petrified crocodile, with a surface jagged and roughened by the corrosion of time. Near one end, an orifice admits an easy ingress of a person, and the cavity affords no obstacle to an upright walk the whole length; near the opposite end, light is admitted by a fracture. The settler here would require no other cellar than this, which might be buried to any depth for protection against frost.
    In many places we find fissures or caverns in the level ground, walled by regular stone to the surface, for there is no soil to speak of. They are various in form and extent, some having the bottom within sight, others disappear in darkness, and as we drop stone into them the sounds come back fainter and fainter, without informing us of a bottom this side of the center of gravity. Within some of the less depths, we discover the whitened bones of the buffalo, gone long ago with the Indian of former times, to that future life, where it is the custom of many tribes to take their bows and dogs or favorite horse, as these are frequently buried with them. But in regard to this morsel of modern mythology I must be allowed to say "perhaps."
    We were told by mountain men that no buffalo have been seen west of the Rock Mountains within the last thirty years. We have good camp, grass, water and wood.
    August 3--Today we continue up the little valley, passing some French trading posts here among the Shoshone Indians, while to the west or opposite side of the valley is a giant wall of magnificent mountain scenery, peak towering above peak, bold rocks projecting, and deep ravines lined with small timber, all of which is within plain view from our elevation on the opposite side of the narrow valley. As we near the head of the valley, our road turns to the left across the small creek and through a divide of thick brush and young poplars. Here too we find a treat in the many gooseberries and currants, which we find in abundance. We help ourselves without an invitation. We find camp at a very large spring which furnishes a creek that heads off westward toward Ft. Hall.
    August 4--We leave camp reluctantly this morning, for we have good grass, water and wood. The spring, or rather creek, issues from a bank beneath a large tree, and we follow down this creek into the great valley of the Snake River, expecting to reach Ft. Hall today. There is yet plenty of snow in the mountains, while the ravines are furnishing us with plenty of currants and June berries, which we observe strictly after our desert travel for many weeks without food of any kind. We seem to be in a somewhat productive country for the first time since leaving Fort Laramie. We are over a thousand miles from Council Bluffs, and over sixteen hundred miles from home, but we find that the sun rises here as often as it does in the States, and keeps later hours at night, probably to atone for later rising.
    We fail to reach the Fort, but camp in an extensive valley extending to the river upon which the Fort is situated. Many advantages here, good grass, water, wood. And the finest mosquitoes, endless quantities of them, so numerous are they that, upon turning our horses loose, they refused to graze but started at once for higher land as by instinct, and we, not seeing their intention for a few moments while arranging camp, were at the expense of a six-mile tramp to recover them. We made no attempt to get supper but squatted under blankets for protection.
    I here make a rough guess that no one can pass through the valley in the summer season without becoming more or less a naturalist, and with no special effort either.
    August 5--The travel today has led us far out into the Snake River Valley, where we have had some of the most extensive view of the route. Far in the northern horizon, where we fancy we can almost see into the McKenzie Valley of the arctic regions, we discern two similarly shaped mountains, perfect cones in form, and were we not conscious of having crossed neither the Atlantic or Pacific, we could easily imagine ourselves in Egypt, and within two hundred miles of such an appearance as we now behold toward the north pole. We see the walls of Ft. Hall a long distance before we reach it, and only arrive there after crossing some small creeks about 3 p.m., where we also have our first introduction to Snake River. Oregon emigrants have crossed the river near here in former times, and made a more direct route to another crossing at Fort Boise, nearly three hundred miles below, but the travel is now located south of the river. We find Fort Hall occupied as a fur port by members of the Hudson Bay Company, with the noted old Captain Grant at the head of the party. He is generally observed by all emigrants and hence is a noted man, for travelers are anxious to get information of the route ahead and generally exhibit but little satisfaction when the Capt. tells them they have yet eight hundred miles to travel before they reach the settlement in Oregon. He is over six feet in height, and straight as his Indian associates; his hair perfectly white, and a small keen pair of gray eyes. He is able in his position, for he answers all queries of emigrants intelligently in English, or gives orders or answers questions in French, or reprimands a wayward native in the dialect of the country. He has been a member of the Hudson Bay Company a long time, and stationed here 14 years.
    Here we see an assortment of furs among which is the white muskrat, and others we cannot name. We leave the Fort after an hour's halt, drive out to good camp near Port Neuf River, where we find good grass and water, scarcely any wood, but brush. The water at this place is excellent, and is a curiosity being what may be called standing springs. They are surrounded by the level sod of the valley, without any outlet visible, the banks about three feet high from the water surface, while the waters at any depths show clear boiling sands at the bottom in constant agitation, the size of the springs varying from a few feet surface to the size of an ordinary cellar. The clearness of the water is remarkable and has a magnifying power, for the smallest pebble or shell is plainly visible from the bank.
Hiram Rockafeller Schutt in the National Democrat, Cassopolis, Michigan, May 29, 1873, page 1


    Hiram Rockafeller Schutt was born in Ontario Co., New York, Feb. 19, 1828. His father's name was Benjamin Schutt, and his mother's maiden name was Christina Bruzee.
    He came with his parents, one brother and two sisters to Michigan in the fall of 1843.
    At the age of 19 he began teaching school, a vocation which he followed during the winter season for thirty years. He was a splendid mathematician and always took great interest in all educational work. He was especially kind to the young teachers, and many there are who can remember how he assisted them over some rough places in their work.
    In the summer of 1850 in company with others he went overland to California and Oregon, remaining four years. He was county clerk of Linn County, Oregon, for two years, and taught school one winter during his stay there. The remainder of the time he spent in the gold mines of California, where he met with fair success. Returning in 1854, he settled on the farm in Jefferson township, where he has since resided. March 25, 1858 he united in marriage with Fanny Rosbrough. To them were born four children, Stella, who lives at home, Mrs. Martha Sachse of Cassopolis, Owen of Violinia township, and Mrs. Olive Switzer of Fort William, Canada.
    In the summer of 1880, in company with others, he went to the gold mines of Colorado. Meeting with no success, he returned in 1885 and has since resided at his home. Always an uncompromising Democrat, he held office in his home town for 34 consecutive years. He was notary public at the time of his death, which office he had also held for years.
    He was not a believer in any of the orthodox creeds or theories, but strove always to be a reasoner.
    He was an honest man, and a kind, helpful neighbor. Nothing was ever too much for him to do, or no road was ever too long for him to travel when a neighbor needed help, and in his immediate neighborhood, "Uncle Hiram" will be much missed. He passed on to the higher life from his home in Jefferson, Tuesday morning, Jan. 14, 1908.
    Funeral services were held at the White church in Jefferson, Thursday, Jan. 16. The address was delivered by Mrs. Sheets, a Spiritualist of Grand Ledge, Mich.
Cassopolis Vigilant, Cassopolis, Michigan, January 23, 1908, page 1


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