My German friend, after service, again invited me to call. It turned out he was the tavern-keeper in the place; so after our pleasant midday dinner on the "Lucania," we all adjourned to the hotel, where in the parlor were the choir of the morning service, several other ladies and gentlemen, and, taking his ease and enjoyment, also Father Burke. We spent more than two hours in the happiest way. Stories were told and songs were sung, and libations of the best California vintage were offered us, all ending with "The Star Spangled Banner," sung by all standing. I say all standing, for two ladies, said to be Spanish sympathizers, remained seated glumly on a sofa, but were good-naturedly drawn to their feet by a laughing companion, and made to assume the virtue of patriotism if they had it not. By this time the train was due, and Father Burke, the lady singers from San Francisco, and their friends had to leave us, obedient to the imperial mandate, "All aboard!" My German friend again came to our assistance in the way of amusements, and invited us into his hotel garden. It was a humble little enclosure, but in the centre, coming up through some rock-work, there was an iron jet which he let on, and made a fountain of for our pleasure, quite refreshing to look at. The distant mountains, too, which appeared so far away as one looked from the open plain, seemed here strangely near and picturesque, when seen through the arched openings of the enclosing trees. Our friend also had a surprise for us in some homing pigeons of rare excellence, of which he was specially proud. He showed us his pet prize winner with its eyes and carriage like a genius. He went in among them, and seemed so tender with them, and interested in them, that it was all a thing of poetry of the highest kind; the great tall man and the fairy-like shapes and motions of his beloved birds. He took out of the cote the very best of the lot, and gave it to one of our young ladies to let fly outside, so that we could see it circle round and round, and then make for its home again. By this time it was toward evening, and we could descry in the dim distance the return of Dr. Humphreys and his family, as their carriages wound along the plain back again to Brentwood. Night brought us a silver moon, which added new beauty to all our great surroundings of plain and mountain, and we could look back over a day filled to overflowing with interest and pleasantness, the half of which is not told; but we must at least mention the grape-shot which was picked up on the railroad track, and which set us thinking of how it got there. Was it fired from a Spanish cannon in early days, or by settlers in some Indian difficulty, or marauding trouble, or when?