four feet high, he reached, at the distance of five miles, a second fall. The river is about four hundred yards wide, and for the distance of three hundred throws itself over to the depth of nineteen feet, and so irregularly that he gave it the name of the Crooked Falls. From the southern shore it extends obliquely upwards about one hundred and fifty yards, and then forms an acute angle downwards nearly to the commencement of four small islands close to the northern side. From the perpendicular pitch to these islands, a distance of more than one hundred yards, the water glides down a sloping rock with a velocity almost equal to that of its fall. Above this fall the river bends suddenly to the northward: while viewing this place Captain Lewis heard a loud roar above him, and crossing the point of a hill for a few hundred yards, he saw one of the most beautiful objects in nature: the whole Missouri is suddenly stopped by one shelving rock, which, without a single niche, and with an edge as straight and regular as if formed by art, stretches itself from one side of the river to the other for at least a quarter of a mile. Over this it precipitates itself in an even, uninterrupted sheet to the perpendicular depth of fifty feet, whence, dashing against the rocky bottom, it rushes rapidly down, leaving behind it a spray of the purest foam across the river. The scene which it presented was indeed singularly beautiful, since, without any of the wild, irregular sublimity of the lower falls, it combined all the regular elegancies which the fancy of a painter would select to form a beautiful waterfall. The eye had scarcely been regaled with this charming prospect, when, at the distance of half a mile, Captain Lewis observed another of a similar kind: to this he immediately hastened, and found a cascade stretching across the whole river for a quarter of a mile with a descent of fourteen feet, though the perpendicular pitch was only six feet. This, too, in any other neighbourhood, would have been an object of great magnificence, but after what he had just seen it became of secondary interest: his curiosity being however awakened, he determined to go on, even should night overtake him, to the head of the falls. He therefore pursued the southwest course of the river, which was one constant succession of rapids and small cascades, at every one of which the bluffs grew lower, or the bed of the river became more on a level with the plains. At the distance of two and a half miles he arri ved at another cataract of twenty-six feet. The river is here six hundred yards wide, but the descent is not immediately perpendicular, though the river falls generally with a regular and smooth sheet; for about one third of the descent a rock protrudes to a small distance, receives the water in its passage, and gives it a curve. On the south side is a beau

tiful plain, a few feet above the level of the falls; on the north the country is more broken, and there is a hill not far from the river. Just below the falls is a little island in the middle of the river well covered with timber. Here, on a cottonwood tree, an eagle had fixed its nest, and seemed the undisputed mistress of a spot, to contest whose dominion neither man nor beast would venture across the gulfs that surround it, and which is further secured by the mist rising from the falls. This solitary bird could not escape the observation of the Indians, who made the eagle's nest a part of their description of the falls, which now proves to be correct in almost every particular, except that they did not do justice to their height." Vol. I. p. 260-264.

The rapids and cascades above the falls extend in one continued series to the distance of about seven miles, two and a half miles above which, the Medicine River, one hundred and thirty-seven yards in width, descending from the northwest, forms a junction with the Missouri, and the united streams are then hurried and precipitated adown the rapids, falls, and cascades, in one continued series of from twelve to fourteen miles, making a descent of three hundred and fifty-two feet in that distance: the scene is the most wild and romantic of the kind, that can be imagined. The river, which is fourteen hundred yards wide, at the head of the rapids, is compressed into half that width in its first descent; it then approaches a precipice of forty-eight feet high, over which it pitches with a contracted current of four hundred and seventythree yards; then recovering itself, it flows on with a more gradual descent, till it approaches the great cataract, when, gathering strength from its confined channel, which is now only two hundred and eighty yards wide, it rushes over the fall to the depth of eighty-eight feet.

It became necessary now to have recourse to a portage of eighteen miles, from the bottom of the rapids below the falls, to the head of the rapids and cascades above. For this purpose the canoes were hauled on shore, a part of the baggage deposited in a Cache, and carriages were made with truck wheels to transport the remainder, together with the canoes. In this manner they proceeded to travel across the land with great difficulty and fatigue, till they arrived near an island in the river, which they called White Bear Island, and where they encamped.

Since their arrival at the falls, they had repeatedly heard a strange thundering noise proceeding from the mountains. It was heard at different periods of the day and night; sometimes when the air was still and the sky clear, and consisted of one stroke only, or of five or six reports in quick succession like the discharge of a six pounder at about three miles distance. The Minataree Indians had frequently spoken of this noise like thunder, which they said the mountains made, and some of the watermen of the party also said, that the Pawnees and Ricaras gave the same account of a noise heard in the Black Mountains to the westward of them. The watermen had a notion that these noises were occasioned by the bursting of the rich and ripe mines of sil ver in the bosom of the mountains.

Having constructed some additional canoes to carry the baggage, instead of the large boat they had been obliged to abandon at the portage, they resumed their journey, and soon afterwards came to the entrance of a beautiful river, winding through a charming valley, in which numerous herds of buffalo were feeding, and which, in honour of the secretary of the navy, they called Smith's River.

They had now entered within the first ranges of the Rocky Mountains, and became very anxious to meet with the Shoshonees, or Snake Indians, for the purpose of obtaining from them the necessary information as to the course they were to pursue in order to fall in with some of the branches of the Columbia. Captain Clarke therefore set out by land with three men, and followed the course of the river, on the north side, while the rest, under the direction of Captain Lewis, continued to urge their way up the stream, when their astonishment was excited by a display of natural scenery of the most grand and majestic description.

"For more than thirteen miles we went along the numerous bends of the river, and then reached two small islands; three and three quarter miles beyond which is a small creek in a bend to the left, above a small island on the right side of the river. We were regaled about ten o'clock, P. M. with a thunder-storm of rain and hail, which lasted for an hour, but during the day in this confined valley, through which we are passing, the heat is almost insupportable; yet whenever we obtain a glimpse of the lofty tops of the mountains we

are tantalized with a view of the snow. These mountains have their sides and summits partially varied with little copses of pine, cedar, and balsam fir. A mile and a half beyond this creek the rocks approach the river on both sides, forming a most sublime and extraordinary spectacle. For five and three quarter miles these rocks rise perpendicularly from the water's edge to the height of nearly twelve hundred feet. They are composed of a black granite near its base, but from its lighter colour above, and from the fragments, we suppose the upper part to be flint of a yellowish brown and cream colour. Nothing can be imagined more tremendous than the frowning darkness of these rocks, which project over the river and menace us with destruction. The river, of one hundred and fifty yards in width, seems to have forced its channel down this solid mass, but so reluctantly has it given way that during the whole distance the water is very deep even at the edges, and for the first three miles there is not a spot except one of a few yards, in which a man could stand between the water and the towering perpendicular of the mountain: the convulsion of the passage must have been terrible, since at its outlet there are vast columns of rock torn from the mountain which are strewed on both sides of the river, the trophies as it were of the victory. Several fine springs burst out from the chasms of the rock, and contribute to increase the river, which has now a strong current, but very fortunately we are able to overcome it with our oars, since it would be Impossible to use either the cord or the pole. We were obliged to go on some time after dark, not being able to find a spot large enough to encamp on, but at length, about two miles above a small island in the middle of the river, we met with a spot on the left side, where we procured plenty of lightwood and pitchpine. This extraordinary range of rocks we called the gates of the Rocky Mountains. We had made twenty-two miles, and four and a quarter miles from the entrance of the gates. The mountains are higher to-day than they were yesterday. We saw some big-horns, a few antelopes and beaver, but since entering the mountains have found no buffalo: the otter are however in great plenty: the mosquitoes have become less troublesome than they were.' Vol. I. p. 310, 311.

Two days after passing through these tremendous adamantine gates, they were delighted to find that the Indian woman Sacajawea, the wife of the interpreter, began to recognise her native country, and their spirits were cheered by being told by her, that the three forks of the Missouri were at no great distance.

No

Indians had as yet made their appearance, but the flags were kept hoisted in the canoes to apprize the natives, in case they should be seen, that they were white men, and friendly. Captain Clarke and his small detachment, still proceeding on shore in advance, continued to explore the mountains and valleys in the vicinity of the river with the hope of meeting with the Indians; nothing however could be discovered but some tracks of horses, and here and there an Indian path. The difficulty of ascending the stream struggling through the rocky passes of the mountains, became very great, on account of the rapidity of the current, and the frequent rapids and obstructions in the channel; and the men, by their unremitting exertions, were every day losing their strength. On the 28th of July, however, they reached the place where the Missouri divides itself into three branches; the two largest of which being each ninety yards wide, and so perfectly similar in character and appearance, that it became impossible to decide which was the greater or the real Missouri. They were induced to discontinue for the present the name of Missouri, and gave to the southwest branch the name of Jefferson, in honour of the projector of the expedition; the middle branch they called Madison River, after the secretary of state, and the other, which was a little below, they named Gallatin River. These rivers run with great rapidity, and throw out large volumes of water; their beds are formed of smooth pebble and gravel, and their waters are perfectly transparent.

Captain Lewis still continuing with his exploring party to make excursions in various directions, and by ascending the high grounds, to make observations as to the course and bearings of the streams, finally concluded that the middle river was the most likely to lead them to the country of the Shoshonees. This stream they therefore began to ascend; and for upwards of one hundred and fifty miles continued to struggle with all the various difficulties incident to ripples, reefs, and shallows, which they encountered at every two or three hundred yards; at the former of which they were obliged to haul the canoes along with ropes, and at the latter places to drag them over the sand and stones with the greatest labour. The hunters were continually sent out in search of deer and antelopes, and were seldom unsuccessVOL. V. New Series.

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