At length Elder Benson, in a tremulous yet powerful voice, demanded of the driver to moderate his speed, which was responded to by an increased and more furious lashing of the foaming, panting steeds; thus, and more, with a drunken coachman (as we afterwards learned), we tore along down the mountain, every moment in jeopardy of being dashed to pieces. When at last reaching a station, we were happily relieved from this perilous adventure. On our return we learned that the inebriate had been discharged. But one peril over, another comes. The most exciting and dangerous portion of our overland route is yet before us, which we encountered in passing over the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Many portions of the road were covered with snow and ice, and ran a long way close beside fearful ravines, hundreds of feet in depth. One sitting in the coach, by inclining the head a little one side, could gaze down into the vast depths below, conscious that the wheels of the vehicle were often within a few inches of the terrible gulf; consequently, the slipping of the wheels, the least blunder of a horse, or a strap or buckle giving way, or the least carelessness of the driver, would plunge the whole outfit over the rocky crags into the abyss below. The danger was increased by the ice and snow, and the sudden, abrupt turns in the road. When we approached very slippery places, where the road frequently was barely of a sufficient width for the coach to pass between the high sharp rocks on one side and the frightful chasm on the other, the driver, in guarding against catastrophes, would put his two spans on their utmost speed. Hour after hour, as we thus moved on, particular points in the road were pointed out to us, where coaches had whirled down precipices, and every occupant had been killed. These nerve-stirring recitals caused us more seriously to realize the gravity of our situation and our dependence on God for the preservation of our lives; and we truly felt grateful for our deliverance, and breathing more freely, felt our pulses restored to their normal state as we dismounted from the coach at the western base of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. On our arrival in San Francisco we were kindly entertained by Elder Eveleth, whose hospitable house was our home during our short stay, while making arrangements for our passage by steamer for the point of our destination. Brother Eveleth's kindness and hospitality to the latter day missionaries traveling to and from Salt Lake is proverbial; and although called to a higher and broader sphere, he lives in the grateful, affectionate remembrance of those who knew him.