After a detention of half a day at San Luis Obispo by a rain-storm, the party resumed the horses they had left there, and which took them back to los Angeles in the same time they had brought them up. Thus making their five hundred miles each in four days, with the interval of repose occupied in the ride from San Luis to Monterey and back. In this whole journey from los Angeles to Monterey and back—making eight hundred and forty miles—the party had actually but one relay of fresh horses; the time on the road was about seventy-six hours. The path through the entire route lies through a wild broken country, over ridges, down gorges, around bluffs, and through gloomy defiles, where a traveller, unused to these mountains, would often deem even the slow trot impracticable. The only food which the horses had, except a few quarts of barley at Monterey, was the grass on the road; though the trained and domesticated horses, like the canelos, will eat or drink almost every thing which their master uses. They will take from his caressing hand bread, fruits, sugar, coffee; and, like the Persian horse, will not refuse a bumper of wine. They obey with gentlest docility his slightest intimation; a swing of his hand, or a tap of his whip on the saddle, will spring them into instant action, while the check of a thread-rein on the Spanish bit will bring them to a dead stand; and yet in these sudden stops, when rushing at the top of their speed, they manage not to jostle their rider, or throw him forward. They go where their master directs, whether it be a leap on the foe, up a flight of stairs, or over a chasm. But this is true only of the conduct and behavior of those horses trained like the canelos, who vindicate, in the mountain glens of California, their Arabian origin. They are all grace, fleetness, muscle, and fire; gentle as the lamb, lively as the antelope, and fearless as the lion. MARINE REMAINS.