gave it much romantic beauty. Where we crossed, which was immediately at
the outlet, it is two hundred and fifty feet wide, and so deep that with
difficulty we were able to ford it. Its bed was an accumulation of rocks,
boulders, and broad slabs, and large angular fragments, among which the
animals fell repeatedly.

The current was very swift, and the water cold, and of a crystal purity.
In crossing this stream, I met with a great misfortune in having my
barometer broken. It was the only one. A great part of the interest of the
journey for me was in the exploration of these mountains, of which so much
had been said that was doubtful and contradictory; and now their snowy
peaks rose majestically before me, and the only means of giving them
authentically to science, the object of my anxious solicitude by night and
day, was destroyed. We had brought this barometer in safety a thousand
miles, and broke it almost among the snow of the mountains. The loss was
felt by the whole camp--all had seen my anxiety, and aided me in
preserving it. The height of these mountains, considered by many hunters
and traders the highest in the whole range, had been a theme of constant
discussion among them; and all had looked forward with pleasure to the
moment when the instrument, which they believed to be as true as the sun,
should stand upon the summits, and decide their disputes. Their grief was
only inferior to my own.

The lake is about three miles long, and of very irregular width, and
apparently great depth, and is the head-water of the third New Fork, a
tributary to Green river, the Colorado of the west. In the narrative I
have called it Mountain lake. I encamped on the north side, about three
hundred and fifty yards from the outlet. This was the most western point
at which I obtained astronomical observations, by which this place, called
Bernier's encampment, is made in 110 deg. 08' 03" west longitude from