afternoon we made 10 miles more. In the latter part of our march we reached a creek called Arroyo Seco, (dry creek,) but it was now so far from being dry that we could hardly cross it. This creek flows towards the east, and falls some miles below into the Sacramento. From Arroyo Seco we travelled about three miles, till we reached the valley of the Sacramento, the famous battle field six months afterwards. Of this valley, since that time, so many accounts have been given, with drawings and illustrations, that I consider it useless to expatiate on the locality; but a few remarks may not be out of place, to recall it to the reader’s memory.
The mountains above the Sacramento approach each other from the east and west, and narrow the intermediate plain to the width of about six mile and on the Sacramento itself, where new spurs of mountains project, to about three miles. The road from the Arroyo Seco to the Sacramento leads at first over a high plain; but as soon as the Sacramento comes in sight, it descends abruptly to its valley and to the left bank of the creek. Near where the road begins to descend, a ravine, with an opposite long hill, runs to the left or east of it, and a level plain spreads out to the right or west of it. On the hill towards the east was a continuous line of batteries and entrenchments, and the principal force of the Mexican army was there collected. On the opposite plain from the west, the American troops, who had above the Arroyo Seco already turned to the right of the road to gain a more favorable position, advanced in open field against their entrenched and by far more numerous enemies. How the American artillery with the first opening of their fire struck terror into the Mexican ranks; how the brave Missourians, then on horseback and on foot, acted by on impulse, rushed through the ravine up to the cannon’s mouth, and, overthrowing and killing everything before them, took one battery after the other, till the whole line of entrenchments was in their possession and the enemy put to complete flight; how they crossed from here to the Sacramento and stormed on its right bank the last fortified position, on a steep hill, till not a Mexican was left to oppose them, and all their cannon, ammunition and trains abandoned to the victors–these are facts well known in the history of that campaign, and will immortalize the brave volunteers of Missouri. Little did I dream, when I reached on that evening the lonesome valley, that six months afterwards the cannon would roar here, and that the blood of the Mexicans would stain the clear water of the creek. My only trouble then was the same creek, which had swollen to such an extent that wherever I rode in, my horse had to swim. It was therefore impossible to cross it with the wagons to-night, and we camped on the left bank near a small enclosure of rocks, containing some springs and cotton trees. The springs, which I examined with the thermometer, had a temperature of 67° Fah., while the atmosphere was at 59° Fah. The elevation of this place above the sea is 4,940 feet, which makes it 300 feet higher than Chihuahua. For the first time we had a clear night again, and without rain.
August 24.–During the night the river had so considerably fallen that I could this morning ride over without swimming; and having found a good ford, we crossed with the wagons. There is a farm-house on the other side, el rancho de Sacramento; it lies at the foot of the sleep hill, where the last defence was made by the Mexicans. I examined the rocks composing the hill; they were porphyritic and trachytic of many different colors–red, blue, white, and gray. From here it is about 20 miles to Chihuahua. The road leads over a level plain, widening again below
