Weston Ferry, April 23. As we found several parties before us at the
ferry this morning, we are compelled to wait several hours till our
turn. All we expect today is to cross the river, and go out two or three
miles in the country, where we expect to join a company. Several hundred
wagons are already on the opposite shore, waiting for the season to
bring forth grass, etc. I can now see the smoke ascending from the camp
fires behind the bluff upon the other side. Everybody is impatient to be
on the trail, fearing that others will reach the diggings before him.
Two of our party are quite feverish just now, and I have consented to
start immediately, though I think it is too early.
The ferry boats here are very poor and make slow passages. Common flat
boats are used, propelled with oars; they have to tow them up the shore
a quarter of a mile before crossing, to prevent landing below their mark
on the other side. They carry about two wagons each time, beside several
head of cattle or horses. We are now to cross.