United States Survey of the Rocky Mountain region and the Geological Survey for three decades in the Far West, largely owe success.  Steward was an old soldier, was from Illinois, and went with us as geologist, assisting Powell himself in this line.  Bishop had been a captain in the war, had been shot through and through the left lung, and was an enthusiast in Western exploration.  He was one of the topographers.  Richardson was from Chicago and was general assistant to the geologists and topographers.  Beaman was from New York.  He was photographer; and W. C. Powell, from Illinois, and a nephew of Major Powell, was his assistant.  Hattan was a Virginian, but had lived long in Illinois.  He had been a soldier in the war, and went with us as cook, because he wanted the trip, and there was no other post open to him.  I hailed from Buffalo, was the youngest of the party, and served as artist to the geologists, and later was placed on the topographical work.  Mrs. Powell and Mrs. Thompson spent several days at Green River and rendered much assistance, the latter presenting each boat with a handsome flag made by her own hands.

An arm-chair obtained from Field was arranged so that it could be strapped on the deck of the middle cabin of our boat, as a seat for Powell, to enable him to be comfortable and at the same time see well ahead.  This had a tendency to make the Dean slightly top-heavy, but only once did serious consequences apparently result from it, and I am not sure that the absence of the high load would have made any difference.  Though Powell had descended before, he could not remember every detail and kept a sharp lookout always.  The provisions—­everything, in fact, except the bacon, which was too greasy—­were put in rubber sacks that, when closed, were absolutely water-tight.  These bags were encased in cotton sacks and gunny bags to protect the rubber.  Each man was allowed one hundred pounds of baggage, including his blankets, and was given two rubber bags to stow it in.  When the time came to load up we found we had a formidable pile of things that must go.  The photographic apparatus was particularly bulky, for neither the dry-plate nor film had yet been invented.  The scientific instruments were also bulky, being in wooden, canvas-covered cases; and there were eleven hundred pounds of flour in twenty-two rubber sacks.

On the 22d of May, 1871, all being ready, and the boats finally packed, we prepared to push off.  To save time, breakfast was taken at Field’s place, which, owing to the kindness of himself and his charming family, had seemed very much like home to us.  Then the populace to the number of about fifteen—­the Chinamen refusing to countenance any outfit harbouring such a terrible engine of the devil as a photographic apparatus—­assembled on the beach to give us God-speed.  The cheerful conception of this service on the part of a deaf-mute was to fill the air with violent gestures to indicate—­and it was vivid enough—­that we could not possibly escape destruction.  One of his series represented with uncomfortable clearness a drowning man vainly striving to climb up a vertical wall.  This pantomime was the last thing I saw from my position at the oars as we turned a bend and left the “city” behind.