es at every turn of the road. When he is fatigued
with climbing, and breathing the peculiar air of this altitude, he can
seat himself by the roadside to wait the arrival of the coach, and to
catch momentary glimpses, among floating clouds, of the country through
which he has passed in his ascent from the coast. He can see a long
distance through such a rarified atmosphere; but it is only a
bird's-eye view, as the mass that is heaped together is more than his
vision can fully take in, before a cloud, ragged and torn, has passed
across the picture. The eye is delighted more with the details of a
scene, than with this mass of all the excellences of all the climates.
Still he has time to divide into sections the world below him; and as
he thus contemplates in part, he at length realizes as a whole the
scene that is presented. The art of man never has, and never can,
produce such a combination in the arrangement of the courses of
vegetation. As the traveler stands at an elevation where pine-trees
crow in the tropics, where a post-and-board fence incloses a field of
grain, and where a storm of snow and sleet had fallen only a few hours
before, he can look down upon hills and plains, one below another, each
one, in the descending scale, exhibiting more and more of tropical
productions, until the regions of cocoa-nuts, and bananas, and
sarsaparilla, and palms, and jalap, and vanilla, are reached in his
perspective. This is a specimen chart, where all the climates and
productions of the world are embraced within the scope of a single
glance.

It is time to re-enter the coach, and close all openings, for a dense
fog is coming up from the sea, and has thrown so thick a curtain over
the prospect, that the eye can not penetrate it. The long line of
freight-wagons, that have served to mark the route that we have come,
disappear, one after another: we ourselves are soon enveloped in
darkness. With the fog has come a chill and piercing air, and the
pleasure of our mountain ride is now over. Still we move on and up with
little hindrance, as the road on this side of the "divide" is in good
repair. But as we go down on the other side, we are impeded by
freight-wagons held fast in the mud, and unable to move down-hill--it
being easier to drag a wagon up an ascent than to draw it down-hill
through stiff mud. An entirely different world now presents itself. We
are in a fine grain-growing country. Well-cultivated fields stretch out
as far as