nd terrible incidents of my exile, I feel that I have
more than a mere discoverer's right to the perpetuity of that
christening. The lake is fed by innumerable small streams from the
mountains, and the countless hot springs surrounding it. A large river
flows from it, through a canon a thousand feet in height, in a
southeasterly direction, to a distant range of mountains, which I
conjectured to be Snake River; and with the belief that I had
discovered the source of the great southern tributary of the Columbia,
I gave it the name of Bessie Lake, after the

"Sole daughter of my house and heart."

During the first two days, the fear of meeting with Indians gave me
considerable anxiety, but, when conscious of being lost, there was
nothing I so much desired as to fall in with a lodge of Bannacks or
Crows. Having nothing to tempt their cupidity, they would do me no
personal harm, and, with the promise of reward, would probably
minister to my wants and aid my deliverance. Imagine my delight, while
gazing upon the animated expanse of water, at seeing sail out from a
distant point a large canoe containing a single oarsman. It was
rapidly approaching the shore where I was seated. With hurried steps I
paced the beach to meet it, all my energies stimulated by the
assurance it gave of food, safety and restoration to friends. As I
drew near to it it turned towards the shore, and oh! bitter
disappointment, the object which my eager fancy had transformed into
an angel of relief stalked from the water, an enormous pelican,
flapped its dragon-wings, as if in mockery of my sorrow, and flew to a
solitary point farther up the lake. This little incident quite
unmanned me. The transition from joy to grief brought with it a
terrible consciousness of the horrors of my condition. But night was
fast approaching, and darkness would come with it. While looking for a
spot where I might repose in safety, my attention was attracted to a
small green plant of so lively a hue as to form a striking contrast
with deep pine foliage. For closer examination I pulled it up by the
root, which was long and tapering, not unlike a radish. It was a
thistle. I tasted it; it was palatable and nutritious. My appetite
craved it, and the first meal in four days was made on thistle-roots.
Eureka! I had found food. No optical illusion deceived me this time; I
could subsist until I rejoined my companions. Glorious counterpoise to
the wretchedness of the preceding h