THE WAY THAT AMERICANS GO DOWN HILL. 305 
in the climate of our favored country, we unexpectedly 
found ourselves travelling over a road that was covered 
with a frozen sleet, for cold as the season was, there was 
no snow ; the horses’ shoes consequently had no corks on 
them worth noticing, and the iron-bound wheels, on this 
change in the surface of the earth, seemed to have so 
little hold upon the road that we almost expected they 
would make an effort to leave it, and break our necks as 
areward for their aspirations. On we went, however, 
and as night came on, the darkness enveloped us in a 
kind of cloud,—the ice-glazed surface of the ground re- 
flecting upwards a dull, mysterious light. 
Our whereabouts never troubled us; all places be- 
tween the one we were anxious to reach, and where we 
were, made no impression upon us; and perhaps we 
would never have known a single particular place, but 
for the incident about to be detailed. 
I think that all my companions, as well as myself, 
were asleep, when I was awaked by that peculiar sawing 
motion which a stage body makes upon its springs when 
suddenly stopped. 
“What’s the matter now?” was the general excla- 
mation of the “insides” to the driver; who was dis- 
covered through the glass window on the ground, beat- 
ing his arms around his body with a vehemence that 
almost raised him into the air. 
‘“‘ Matter!” he exclaimed, sticking his nose above 
a woollen blanket that was tied around his face, which 
