From time to time we got out and walked up the sharp bits, diverging to the right or left to gather the lovely flowers which grew on the roadside, or halting to admire the giant trees which clothed the mountain ridges. Pitiable ignorance! not to know the names of the plants or shrubs or wonderful bunches of blossoms, among which fluttered the most magnificently coloured butterflies. Woodpeckers of many different species uttered their quaint notes in jerky flight from tree to tree, or peered at the travellers from the shelter of the branches. Firs, pines, and spruces of enormous size, and trees to me unknown, formed a dense forest on each side of the road; but now and then we caught glimpses of the stupendous ranges of the alps beyond. It was lamentable to see the waste and wreck wrought in this wondrous wealth of timber--reckless, wicked waste. Charred trunks stood with leafless arms withered and black, or lay prone among the ferns in myriads. This was, we were told, the work of shepherds, who think nothing of setting fire to one of the finest trees in the world to warm themselves for an hour, and are delighted with a conflagration which may lay a hillside in ashes. And the Indians too are held to have their share in the destruction. There was enough of timber wasted and destroyed mile after mile to build a city. The nemesis must come; already the alarm has been sounded, and the State authorities here and elsewhere are trying to prevent the mischief. I have often had occasion to regret my ignorance of botany _inter alia_; but never did I feel it more than when I was walking up the road, on each side of which was a carpet of flowers, a maze of shrubs and plants--dense brushwood--to not one of which could I give a name. We arrived at the Halfway House at 12.35 as much pleased as the horses which brought us there so well at the respite, for it was an awful "pull up," and the coachman did his work at high pressure. In the course of our pilgrimage we had found a very pleasant _divertissement_. The Major, Mr. White, and Mr. Jerome had excellent voices, and from time to time they burst into song, giving with great effect the quaint negro melodies, which are now made familiar to us in London, from a very large _répertoire_; and so the afternoon passed in quiet enjoyment as we climbed the hills on foot or in the carriages--snatches of talk, exclamations of wonder and delight, and outbursts of the 'Golden Slipper,' 'O! that 'Possum,' 'The Ark,' 'John Brown,' 'Tramp, Tramp,' and other choruses.