The country around Los Angeles, which lies a little to the south, is a perfect Eden, and the city is a perfect gem; and persons seeking a peer for paradise, where December is pleasant as May, should journey to California and anchor in the sweet, sunny South, where the breath of heaven fans the shore. From here we went down the Southern Pacific Railroad, and branched off to Prescott, the capital of Arizona. Here we met the great General John C. Fremont, the daring explorer who served the Government so nobly between the years 1842-8, by his exploits through the bleak, lonely mountains and wild lands of the savage, and whose talent the nation has felt and acknowledged. He was born in South Carolina in the year 1813, and though his great name was once in every mouth on the Atlantic slope, and even sung in the national campaign of 1856, the orient has almost forgotten her son and servant, whose lips have touched the waters of every river between the shores, and whose hairs have grown gray in her service; and far beyond the Mississippi he is to-day governing the dismal, desert territory of Arizona, his youth gone, glory flown, and naught but his insignificant gubernatorial salary to guard poverty from his door. The climate here is intensely hot, and the surface is dry and sandy. General Fremont thinks that a portion of the territory could be flooded from the Pacific, and thereby be made productive; and his scheme has been presented to congress. They were just building the Southern Pacific Railroad through here when we were there, and, from the intense heat and burning sands, it was found impossible to work at it except about three or four months in the year. The road is, however, now finished, and the Union Pacific has a rival in the route across the continent.