New York Daily Tribune

From the Rocky Mountain Expedition.

The following letter from Mr. FIELD, who went on an expedition to the Far West with Sir William Drummond Stewart, we find in the New Orleans Picayune:

Fort Platte, La Ramee Fork,
July 5th, 1840.

Dear Friends: Here we are, at this point of our long travel, in entire safety. From here we shall start in an hour for the "Black Hills," Green River, the Sweetwater and the Wind River Mountains, having twenty or thirty days' travel still before us. We shall then spend a short time at some favorable location among the mountains, and commence our return in August. I cannot now trust myself to speak of the grandeur, sublimity, soft beauty and appalling wildness-all of which have been passing, like a many-changing panorama, before me for the last forty-seven days -I cannot treat so engrossing a theme hurriedly. and will only tell you that we are now in the land of the Cheyennes, and within thirty miles of us is an encampment of some four hundred lodges, numbering about four hundred warriors. We are ninety-three strong, well armed and provisioned, and mean to march through them with all ease and confidence. We have passed through our buffalo region, and are now without fresh meat; but as we were industrious in drying the animals' flesh while we were killing a dozen a day, our stores are still quite equal to our appetites. In three or four days we shall again be among the untamed lords of the mountains and prairie wastes, where we shall find them swarming in denser numbers than ever.

The Catholic priests that I told you of are still with us, traveling to their new settlement among the converted Flatheads, and we have what I am sure must be new in this far-western wilderness- early mass in camp every Sunday morning One of our companions was lost from camp on the North Fork of the Platte, for four days, having lost his horse, coat and blankets, and wandering bare-footed about the prairie. He was found at last, and his story, which is of the liveliest interest, you shall have hereafter. Fifteen of us, tortured with thirst, were riding away in search of the river, galloping and yelling like Indians, when he, being alone in a distant hollow, took us for real red men, and concealed himself until we and the whole camp moved completely out of sight or knowledge. Every soul of us had given him up as butchered by the Sioux, when he was at length fortunately found.

We are all just reviving from a munificent and magnificent jollification that we had upon our ever-glorious Fourth of July! What do you think of roast beef and plum pudding!-yes, rich and luscious as ever came fuming from the brazen kitchen of Messrs. Mudge and Waterman-Rhine wine (three dozen,) milk punch, Minny Warka (a la Sioux,) corn dodgers (a la hunter,) all the choice parts of the buffalo, cooked in the best known style, and every thing really and truly superb. The "stars and stripes" were raised in mid-camp at sunrise, saluted by three volleys of thirty rifles and three loud cheers. We had a mass in the morning from Father De Vos, and a dinner a la brass imperial from our courteous host, Sir William Stewart, in the afternoon. We had an original address from the orator of the day (George W. Christy,) an ode from the modest pen that tells you of it, a song written for the time, and five hours of glorious merriment.

Hurrah! for the prairie and mountain
Hurrah for the wilderness grand!
The forest, the desert, the fountain-
Hurrah! for our glorious land!

We may reach Independence by the 20th of October, and then, be sure of it, I shall be home, as the saying aptly suits, "by the first boat."- Our travel thus far has been so prosperous, that any prospect of being necessitated to winter in the mountains is now removed, and in sixty days we shall be preparing "to go East."

The Oregon emigrants (nine hundred souls, two hundred wagons, and some six or eight hundred head of cattle) are about ten or fifteen days behind us. Of them I shall have a deal to tell you.

Fortune and friendship crown you. Good-bye.

M. C. F.