"Had made him friends of mountains;
With the stars and the quick spirits of the Universe,
He held his dialogues,
And they did teach to him
The magic of their mysteries."

He was as familiar as a hunter, with every trail in the vicinity, and he
took us through every romantic, winding path, one of which led us to an
elevation commanding a view of Mount Shasta, the highest peak of the Coast
Range.

Reluctantly we left this "pleasure dome," which, although less stately
than that "in Xanadu of Kubla Kahn," held all the fairy charms of a bright
Eutopia; and with the vain regrets which all must feel who leave some
fancy realm for the cold regions of reality, we took the stage route for
Weaversville, forty miles farther up the mountain heights, whose crests
were now white with snow, and the road in many places running within six
inches of the ragged chasms, thousands of feet in depth.

Our stage was drawn by four horses, and, at one time, the snow accumulated
around the foot of one of the leaders until it formed a huge ball, and
with this impediment he was partially precipitated over the edge of a
precipice. This noble animal exhibited more presence of mind than would
have characterized many human beings under similar circumstances, and,
with great judgment, gradually extricated the foot from its snowy burden,
and resumed his journey, but not before the face of every passenger was
blanched with terror.

After a few days at Weaversville, we returned to Sacramento, feeling that