Owing to the hilly surface of Sausalito, driving is rather a precarious enjoyment, but there is one drive which, with its superb marine vistas, amply compensates for the apparent lack of level roads. With the intention of taking this drive we procured a team and were soon driven rapidly along the boulevard skirting the water front, past the San Francisco Yacht Club, with its medley of white sailboats and smaller craft bobbing about in the water, and then through old Sausalito nestled in the gulch. Thence ascending the hill, the road wound around bend after bend with the Bay ever below us at a distance of a few hundred feet. Arriving at a small, shingled lodge beside a gate through which we passed into the reservation, we soon came upon the Fort Baker Barracks in the hollow of the hills. It seems as if Nature, in anticipation of man's conflict with his brother man, had formed these hills on purpose for a fortification, so well adapted do they seem for their present use. Beyond the Barracks, at the base of a cliff, we spied some small, white buildings clustered on the rocks extending out into the water. This proved to be Lime Point, and the buildings we were approaching belong to the Government, constituting a lighthouse- and fog-signal station. We found it to be one of the many smaller stations that are distributed along the Coast. There is a diminutive white light, and a steam fog whistle is kept ever ready to send out its note of warning at the slightest approach of the milky vapor which is a terror to the seamen. Lime Point is directly opposite Fort Point, the distance being but seven-eighths of a mile, and forms the Northern point of Golden Gate Strait. While the view from these rocks is expansive, still it could not be called commanding, as the Point is too near the sea level to give the height and majesty requisite for an enchanting ocean vista. [Illustration: Fissures of the Cliffs.] As a pass is required before one can go through the reservation we retraced our steps to the Barracks and upon receiving the passport from the Sergeant Major, proceeded on our way up the steep, winding road which leads out of the Valley. Reaching the summit, the road continues its circuitous route; now in sight of the Bay and City, and again in among the bare, rolling hills. While descending into a little valley we were stopped by a number of heavily laden teams, lined up in the middle of the road. Before we could question as to the delay, a volley of shots rang out, resounding again and again in the silent canyons, and a flapping red flag near by plainly denoted that the soldiers were engaged in target practice.