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294 Team appeared to be coming back on the coach; & as we rattled? down the windows the sides of the hill looked like precipices. If one horse had stumbled on the pieces of rock projecting through to road, or got frightened, or became unruly in any way, or if a piece of harness had broken, or the brake had given way, a capsize wd have been inevitable, & we sd have rolled over to the valley beneath. Where Simpson? was an Hotel at the bottom of the hill, & while we unclear down to unclear (I think people must sometimes arrive at the Hotel without much appetite) another team was put in for another stage, through ravines & along the edge of the precipices, which wd replace American horses & American driving. The Hill we had just come down is called the Grey Hill. At Central City where I was staying the next? day I asked the Landlord of the hotel if any one had been killed lately on the Grey Hill, "No," he replied, noone had been killed he was glad to say for two or three years, but every year several persons had died of accidents on the Hill." There accidents happen when snow is on the ground, & the horses cannot see their way, or when it is covered with ice, & they cannot get a foot-hold. I afterward walked up this road, & a closer acquaintance with it only increased the respect the way in which I had been hopeful down it had made me feel for American horses, drivers, & coaches. I also went over the old road that had preceded it, & which was nothing but a gully of smooth rock down the side of the Hill. I was unable to