It was Sunday morning when we reached Brentwood. It was a scattering village of detached houses in the midst of a vast plain through which the railroad ran, straight as an arrow, from horizon to horizon. The somnolence of Sunday and of nature hung over all, giving little promise for the twenty-four hours we were to stay there; yet unpromising as it all seemed, we passed there a very enjoyable time. We were left to our own devices all day, for Dr. and Mrs. Humphreys and the members of his family, went off in the early morning, to visit some relatives ranching in the foot-hills of the encircling mountains, which enclose the vast plain, on which Brentwood stands. How beautiful and ever-varying those mountains were! They told us new stories from morning until night--now a romance of purple and gold; again, a story of less heroic character, as they stood out plain and clear in the sunshine; and again, a tale of deeper mystery, as the night shadows gathered upon their sides, and the moonbeams gave a strange brilliancy to their higher peaks. Brentwood and all its belongings was before us for the Sunday. After an exploring tour, we found two churches, a Campbellite and a Methodist. They did not look particularly inviting, although the hymn singing in one by the Sunday-school children touched us. We still strolled on and came upon a group of people busily engaged taking flowers into a long, blackened shed which we were told was the town hall, and that there a Dominican monk was to hold services that morning. A fine-looking young German of the tall, black type was busy arranging the rude temporary altar, and a number of ladies and others were assisting him. My German friend offered us an introduction to Father Burke, the monk in question, but we declined, not wishing to intrude upon him before his Mass. The hour for service came, and we were on hand, with a varied crowd from the town and country adjacent, quite a goodly number. There was a large, white curtain hung back of the altar as a sort of reredos. It did not reach the floor, however, and as the platform was rather high, we had a preliminary view from almost the knees down of all the necessary preparation and vesting, more interesting than edifying. But the service itself,--in the character of the congregation, the mothers with their babies, the young, restless lads, the old people of other days and other climes, and the young people of California growth,--all made up a most interesting study. The music was quite good, being provided by some visitors from San Francisco; two ladies, whom we afterward met, having voices of excellent tone and real culture. An _Ave Maria_ and the _Sanctus_ were especially well sung. Father Burke gave an offhand sermon, well arranged and thoughtful, suitable for Christians of any orthodoxy whatever. It was good to hear him.