Down Mount Hamilton

It was late when we lof t the building- and beffan the lowrw;ird trip, says a writer in the Californian. It was so dark that I deteraiined to ride down as far as Smith's, making' tho start froni there afresh in the morning1. The coach I happened to catch contained a party of excursionista. Tlie road down from the siimmit is in all probability the finest cut road in the world, but it isstcep, abounds in sharp turns and terriflc precipices, and is not a road one would select to go down at full speed. Yet when the four-in-hand turned down into the road, the drivcr mashed his hat firmly on his hcad and bronht i crack from his whlp like a report of a revolver, at which the horsos sprang forward in a mad pallop. Crack camc the whip ayain, and with a terriflc sway the heavy coach swnng round the curve and went tearlng down to road while fltful shrieka began to como from the "insides." Trees, specti-u! trunks, great oaks and sycamores ilew by, clouds of dnst rose and hid the landscape !o that the hor; into a iog bank. Over bridg'es we went, thu thuuder of hoofs rising in the night with a weird and forbidding sound. The pace kept increasing-; the horses were at a dead ra round curvos with B frightful swin;, now coming. up ander th brake with a terrif.c crash, thcn tearing madly on in the wild race for the lights of Smith's away below in the gloom. Great trees with long branching arms reached out, seemini to intercept the road. Gulfs of gloom opened up suddenly as the coach dashed around curves. Spectral sycamorea stood white and distinct. where on every side masses of verdnre made the night more impenetrable - a black gulf all about, down which seemed skurrying. On plunged the coach - horses and driver seemingly gone mad - until finally, after pivoting around in a remarkable manner, we rushed away in a cloud of dust over the little bridge into the Wending and welcome light of Kmith's inn.