RIVER VOYAGE TO RED BLUFFS. 231 
80,000 dollars were returned in a single year by 
the sale of the peaches. 
I commence my journal again on 
April 24th.—I am in the ‘ Victor’ steamboat, a 
small crank flat-bottomed affair, pushed against 
the current by a huge stern-wheel—an ugly 
appendage, but very effective in navigating swift 
shallow streams. I am bound for Red Bluffs, 
275 miles above Sacramento. Pass the exits of 
the Yuba and Feather rivers, and change the 
yellow muddy water for the pure sparkling 
stream fresh from the mountain. 
April 25th. — Starting again—the ‘Victor’ 
having been fastened up all night, tethered to a 
tree, as one would tie up his horse—the scenery, 
as we wend along the sinuous course of the 
stream, rapidly changesits character. The banks 
get steep, and sharp hills take the place of the 
flat lands behind us. Wild grape-vines hang in 
clustering tangles of green luxuriance from the 
branches of the ilex, oak, and arbutus, forming 
a continuous arcade over the water. 
The Bluffs are reached. A straggling town, 
built ona high bank beetling over the Sacramento 
river, peeps out, from amidst some tall trees. 
Men, women, children, and dogs are crowding 
