About 7 o'clock this morning we came within sight of Green River,
apparently not far off, but several hundred feet below us. After the
most disagreeable night's travel I ever experienced, we were elated at
the prospect of being so near a stopping-place, but on following the
trail we had to go about three miles further before we got down to the
river. Green River is about twenty rods wide here and so deep that it
has to be ferried. In the Spring it is said it can be forded, but it is
swollen now in consequence of the snow melting at its sources. There are
two ferries, which charge $7 per wagon. We made arrangements to have
ours crossed this evening, and accordingly they were taken over without
accident. I am told that four men were drowned the other day in
attempting to cross on a raft. Some companies find it difficult to make
their horses and cattle swim the stream, but ours went over without
trouble. We found the grass rather scarce near the ferry, and drove our
cattle three miles up the river, where it was first-rate. In company
with three others of our party, I went up about sundown to watch the
cattle over night. Nowhere upon the way have I found a more beautiful
place than this. The valley of the river is broad and Spring's first
fresh carpet of grass adorned with fragrant flowers. The numerous
varieties of shrubs divided and subdivided the valley into picturesque
lawns, and gave more variety to the scenery. We built a good fire of dry
wood, and spreading our buffalo robes upon the grass, we laid down to
rest, one watching at a time and being relieved at intervals by the
others.