It commenced raining about two o'clock on the morning of the 31st, and
continued to rain and mist all day. We crossed from Puta to Cache
creek, reaching the residence of Mr. Gordon (25 miles) about three
o'clock P.M. Here we enrolled several additional emigrants in our list
of volunteers, and then travelled fifteen miles up the creek to a small
log-house, occupied temporarily by some of the younger members of the
family of Mr. Gordon, who emigrated from Jackson county, Mo., this
year, and by Mrs. Grayson. Here we remained during the night, glad to
find a shelter and a fire, for we were drenched to our skins.
On the morning of the 1st of November the sun shone out warm and
pleasant. The birds were singing, chattering, and flitting from tree to
tree, through the romantic and picturesque valley where we had slept
during the night. The scenery and its adjuncts were so charming and
enticing that I recommenced my travels with reluctance. No scenery can
be more beautiful than that of the small valleys of California.
Ascending the range of elevated mountains which border the Cache creek,
we had a most extensive view of the broad plain of the Sacramento,
stretching with islands and bells of limber far away to the south as
the eye could penetrate.
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