The scenery, as we advanced, became more wild and picturesque. The hills lost their gentle slopes, and took the form of steep and rugged cones: the mountain ranges were broken by dark and rugged gorges; over crags that toppled high in air, the soaring pine threw its wild music on the wind; while merry streams dashed down the precipitous rocks, as if in haste to greet the green vale below. A short distance beyond us lay the richest gold mines that had yet been discovered; and nature, as if to guard her treasures, had thrown around them a steep mountain barrier. This frowning wall seemed as if riven in some great convulsion. The broad chasm, like a break in a huge Roman aqueduct, dropped to the level plain; while the bold bluffs of the severed barrier gazed at each other in savage grandeur. Beyond this gateway, a valley wandered for some distance, and then expanded into a plain, in the midst of which stood a beautiful grove of oak and pine. Crossing this, we wound over a rough, rocky elevation, and turned suddenly into a ravine, up which we discovered a line of tents glittering in the sun’s rays. We were in the gold mines! I jumped from my horse, took a pick, and in five minutes found a piece of gold large enough to make a signet-ring. We had the unexpected pleasure of meeting here Gov. Mason and Capt. Sherman, who had arrived the evening before in their tour of observation; and Dr. Ord, recently of the army, and Mr. Taylor, of Monterey. They invited us to their camp and a supper which we enjoyed with a keen relish. If you want to know what it is to have an appetite, which scruples at nothing and enjoys every thing, travel on horseback and sleep in the open air. Railroads and hotels are the graves of invalids. But I forgot our horses: we could find no grass; there was a poor pasture several miles distant; but it was now near sunset; we gathered acorns for them, which a horse will eat when pinched with hunger. Our camp-fire was kindled, and we rolled down for the night. SUNDAY, OCT. 1. Another Sabbath, and our first in the mines. But here and there a digger has resumed his work. With most it is a day of rest, not so much perhaps from religious scruples, as a conviction that the system requires and must have repose. He is a blind philosopher, as well as a stupid Christian, who cannot see, even in the physical benefits of the Sabbath, motives sufficient to sanctify its observance. He must be a callous soul, who, with the hope of heaven in his dreams, can wantonly profane its spirit.