Just our luck!  The first rain for four months pours down to-day.  We drove, nevertheless, from 7 A.M. until 6 P.M. (only stopping for our meals), over barren, sandy, and desolate country.  We saw whole flocks of sheep dead and dying by thousands from want of care and drought.  We (seven and the driver) were packed away in an open three-seated wagon with four horses, and drove over the dreariest road one can imagine.  We passed continually places where the ground was all upturned, evidently either worked-out or abandoned gold-diggings.  It was very pathetic when one thought of the work, time, and hopes wasted there.  At twelve o’clock we reached Hunter’s (the name of the hotel), and then we drove over more dismal plains still to a hotel called Clark’s.  It must originally have been a lovely place, but now it is spoiled by the gold-diggings.  Here we stayed all night in a very rough kind of tavern.  During the night we heard the howls of wolves and jackals very near the hotel, which was not pleasant.  We started at five o’clock the next morning in a big, open char-a-bancs, and went through the most beautiful forest.  The trees are all from one hundred and fifty to two hundred feet high, and from six to seven feet in diameter; hardly any smaller trees among them.  And such wonderful ferns!  And the ice-plants!  This has a brilliant red stalk and flowers coming from under the snow.  We were so high up that there was snow on the ground all about us.  The trees are perfectly beautiful.  The mansanilla, the branches of which are like red coral, and the leaves the lightest of greens, the California laurel, and many others of which I do not know the names, were too beautiful.  The white pine has cones one and a half feet long.

We drove up for four hours through the forest, until we reached the height of five thousand feet.  Here was a magnificent view, as you may imagine.  Then we began going down.  That was something dreadful!  The driver, with his six horses, drove at a diabolical rate, one foot on the brake, the other planted against the dashboard to keep his balance, holding a tremendously long whip in one hand and the six reins in the other.  I shut my eyes and said my prayers.  I cannot find words to describe my emotion when I saw the precipice on one side and the mountain on the other, especially when we came to a sharp corner and looked in front, when we actually seemed to be going into space.

We arrived exhausted at the Yosemite Valley, where the feeling of repose at being on flat ground and driving through those green pastures surrounded by the six-thousand-feet-high mountains was delicious.  We found the hotel large, comfortable, with a good many other visitors.  The table d’hole dinner was well attended.  Outside the hotel we spied an Indian lurking about.  They told us that he was the last of the Yosemite tribe; he boasted that he had never spoken to a white man.  I am sure no white man would ever care to speak to such an uncouth-looking tramp as he was, dressed in ragged clothes and wearing shabby boots, playing hide-and-seek in the most undignified manner, and utterly unworthy of the traditional Cooper Indian.