to render these countries healthy and
pleasant to live in is, that there are, properly speaking, no swamps,
marshes, nor bayous, as in the United States, and in the neighbourhood
of Acapulco and West Mexico. These lakes and bayous drying during
summer, and exposing to the rays of the sun millions of dead fish,
impregnate the atmosphere with miasma, generating typhus, yellow fever,
dysenteries, and pulmonary diseases.

If the reader will look over the map I have sketched of the Shoshone
country, he will perceive how well the land is watered; the lakes are
all transparent and deep, the rivers run upon a rocky bottom as well as
all the brooks and creeks, the waters of which are always cool and
plentiful. One more observation to convince the reader of the
superiority of the clime is, that, except a few ants in the forest,
there are no insects whatever to be found. No mosquitoes, no prairie
horse-flies, no beetles, except the ceconilla or large phosphoric fly of
California, and but very few worms and caterpillars; the consequence is,
that there are but two or three classes of the smaller species of
carnivorous birds; the large ones, such as the common and red-headed
vulture and crow, are very convenient, fulfilling the office of general
scavengers in the prairies, where every year thousands of wild cattle
die, either from fighting, or, when in the central deserts, from the
want of water. On the western coast, the aspect of the country, in
general, is gently diversified; the monotony of the prairies in the
interior being broken by _islands_ of fine timber, and now and then by
mountains projecting boldly from their bases. Near the sea-shore the
plains are intersected by various ridges of mountains, giving birth to
thousands of small rapid streams, which carry their cool and limpid
waters to the many tributaries of the sea, which are very numerous
between the mouth of the Calumet and Buonaventura. Near to the coast
lies a belt of lofty pines and shady odoriferous magnolias, which
extends in some places to the very beach and upon the high cliffs, under
which the shore is so bold that the largest man-of-war could sail
without danger. I remember to have once seen, above the bay of San
Francisco, the sailors of a Mexican brig sitting on the ends of their
topsail yards, and picking the flowers from the branches of the trees as
they glided by.

In that part of the country, which is intersected by mountains, the soil
is almost every