as there were little wooden huts at intervals perhaps of ten or twelve miles, where a saloon announced itself, and a possible ticket-office. On the east of the plain through which the line runs, the peaks of the Sierra Nevada were visible, but the journey was rather monotonous all the same, and we were glad when our train halted at Madera, about ninety miles from Goshen, where we were to get out and start on our expedition to the Yosemite Valley. Especial arrangements had been made for our conveyance, but I almost doubt now whether it would not have been better for us to have taken the ordinary carriage which leaves Madera every day, except Monday, for the Yosemite Valley, at 7.45, arriving at Clarke's or Bruce's in somewhat less than twelve hours, so as to bring daylight with it to the halting-place; a very desirable thing, as we soon found out. It was 8 o'clock before our party started from Madera, in two Kendal carriages with four horses each. In one was the Duke, Lady Green, Mr. Stephen, and myself, with Crockett on the box; in another were Sir Henry Green, Mr. Wright, Major Anderson, and Mr. Jerome. Our driver was a man with the impossible name of MacLenathan, a resolute, dry, taciturn man, with a good face, seamed with the exposure to sun and rain of many years on the box. But he told us he had deserted it lately, and had taken to the work of livery stable keeper, only coming out on this occasion as driver to do honour to the Duke. As it turned out, it was well his right and his left hand had not lost their cunning. The driver of the other carriage was a noted character, rejoicing in the name of "Buffalo Bill," and later on we had reason to feel very thankful to him also for the possession of great pluck and nerve. For some ten or twelve miles the route, which consists of mere wheel tracks over the prairie, runs over moderately undulating land. On the right there is a shoot or _flume_ for carrying down timber from the upper part of the mountain ridge fifty miles away. The dust was troublesome, and the rapid motion of the four horses scarcely saved us from the roasting sun. The scenery was not interesting; indeed, the great object of attraction was the little Californian quail with his pretty crest, running across through the grass or jumping up upon a stump to have a look at the travellers. Stage stables were far apart, but the speed was fair, and it was astonishing to see the excellent condition in which the horses were at the end of their long canter, and what capital steeds were taken out of the stalls, in which they were feeding on barley-straw, to be put into the traces. I think the average length of the stages was about twelve miles. We lost about an hour at a little mining village where we halted for dinner, a place called Coarse Gold, as well as I recollect, consisting of the usual buildings, a few shanties, the store, the hotel, far better than might have been expected, and a sort