quence of W., the jury brought in a verdict of guilty, and condemned
him to receive thirty-nine lashes at nine o'clock the following
morning, and to leave the river, never to return to it, within
twenty-four hours; a claim, of which he owned a part, to be made over
to Mr. B. to indemnify him for his loss. His punishment was very light,
on account of his previous popularity and inoffensive conduct. In spite
of his really ingenious defense, no one has the least doubt of his
guilt but his lawyer and the Squire. They as firmly believe him an
innocent and much-injured man.

Yesterday morning I made my visit to Smith's Bar. In order to reach it,
it was necessary to cross the river, on a bridge formed of two logs, to
Missouri Bar. This flat, which has been worked but very little, has a
path leading across it, a quarter of a mile in length. It contains but
two or three huts, no very extensive diggings having as yet been
discovered upon it. About in the middle of it, and close to the side of
the trail, is situated a burial-spot, where not only its dead repose,
but those who die on Indian Bar are also brought for interment. On
arriving at the termination of the level, another log bridge leads to
Smith's Bar, which, although it lies upon the same side of the river as
our settlement, is seldom approached, as I before observed, except by
crossing to Missouri Bar and back again from that to Smith's. The hills
rise so perpendicularly between this latter and Indian Bar that it is
utterly impossible for a woman to follow on the trail along their side,
and it is no child's-play for even the most hardy mountaineer to do it.

This level (Smith's Bar) is large and quite thickly settled. More gold
has been taken from it than from any other settlement on the river.
Although the scenery here is not so strikingly picturesque as that
surrounding my new home, it is perhaps infinitely more lovely, and
certainly more desirable as a place of residence, than the latter,
because the sun shines upon it all winter, and we can take long walks
about it in many directions. Now, Indian Bar is so completely covered
with excavations and tenements that it is utterly impossible to
promenade upon it at all. Whenever I wish for exercise, I am
_compelled_ to cross the river, which, of course, I cannot do without
company, and as the latter is not always procurable (F.'s profession
calling him much from home), I am obliged to stay indoors more than I
like, or is co