At Perry’s Point we changed cars, and took a “narrow gauge” line to Ocala. It was the first time we had been on the genuine “narrow” gauge, and I fervently hope our last. Nothing could well be narrower, the rails being less than three feet apart; the cars running thereon are almost the usual width, seating four passengers in a row, divided in the centre by a passage two or three feet wide. It was like travelling on a see-saw or a bicycle; the cars oscillated fearfully from side to side, we had to hold on to the straps for dear life; even when it came to a stand it was not still, but slowly rocked from side to side. During this short journey we twice broke down, and were detained some hours while the injury was repaired. We complained of the danger and discomfort of this mode of travelling, at the risk of life and limb. I believe I was regarded by the whole car as a British malcontent; nobody grumbled nor even lifted a disapproving voice. One lady seemed much surprised at our discomposure, and said, raising her placid brows and smiling sweetly: “I dare say we shall get to Ocala all right; there is no use in fretting. It is true the cars _did_ topple over an embankment a few weeks ago--such things will happen sometimes; a few limbs were broken, but nobody was killed! Besides, we must all die some time, and _I_ don’t think it matters how or when. I really wouldn’t be uneasy,” she added consolingly, with a slightly contemptuous look upon her face. “I dare say it will be all right; and if not,” she shrugged her shoulders, “well, you know, as we say in our prayers, God’s will be done.” Alas! I could not view the situation in this spirit of philosophical resignation; but I resolved to sink myself no lower in the eyes of my self-possessed fellow-travellers, and sat through the rest of the journey with outward calm, but inward tribulation of spirit. It was long past midnight when we reached our destination. It was a dark, moonless night, the rain was pouring in torrents, the thunder rolled and reverberated through the stormy air; now and again the heavens opened and let a flood of lightning through, then closed and left us in utter darkness. The train stopped; peering from the car windows we saw a light twinkling here and there, but no other sign of life. There were no omnibuses, no carriages plying for hire. We gathered our light hand-baggage together and followed the dreary procession to the end of the cars; they all seemed to know where they were going, and one by one our fellow-passengers were swallowed up in the darkness. We stood on the car platform for a moment and peered out into the black night; the deluge of rain was still falling. “There are no conveyances! How are we to get to the hotel?” we exclaimed, looking round in helpless bewilderment and addressing nobody in particular.