VALLEY OF SANTA CLARA. 207 
shade; to be kept in a state of bodily fear of 
instant upset ; to undergo a continuous exercise 
that would have been good training for an athlete, 
to avoid being shot out of the buggy like a 
shell from a mortar, would have set an Ice- 
lander in a glow. The rapidity with which we 
whirled along, and the eccentric performances of 
the vehicle, destroyed, in a measure, the enjoy- 
ment of a scene quite new to me. 
We rattled through the splendid valley of Santa 
Clara, passing here and there a fertile ranch; on 
either side, the wooded slopes looked like lawns 
of Nature’s own contriving; far on my left, the 
bay glimmered like a line of silver light, the 
ground carpeted with flowers, brilliant escholt- 
zia and blue nemophila were most conspicuous 
amidst a natural harvest of wild oats and grass ; 
and on all sides, from amongst the clumps of 
buck-eye and oak, the cheery whistle and chirp 
of birds rang pleasantly on the ear. 
Reaching the ‘ Halfway House’ (as a small 
wooden building is named, midway betwixt San 
José and the mine), we stopped to water the mus- 
tangs and refresh the inward man—a respite 
most acceptable. A ‘ tall drink’ worked wonders 
on my hitherto taciturn coachman, who, as we 
jogged along the remaining half the journey, 
