Twice, too--within a period of only two years--the city had been burned down, and rebuilt; and for all this work that had been done, prices had been paid, that would seem extravagant beyond belief--at least, when compared with the small wages of labour, in any other country than California. The amusements, manners, and customs, of almost every nation upon earth, could, at this time, have been witnessed in San Francisco. There was a Spanish theatre patronised by Chilians, Peruvians, and Mexicans. For the amusement of these people there was also a "Plaza de Toros," or amphitheatre for their favourite pastime--the bull fight. In visiting these places of amusement--or the French and Italian opera houses--or some of the saloons where Germans met to continue the customs of their "Faderland"--one could scarce have supposed himself within the limits of a country, whose citizens were expected to speak English. I paid a visit to all the afore-mentioned spectacles, and many others-- not wholly for the sake of amusement; but to learn something of the varied phases of life there presented to observation. I could have fancied, that, in one evening, I had been in Spain, France, Italy, Germany, China, and over all parts of both North and South America! For several days I wandered about the streets of San Francisco, without meeting a single individual I had ever seen before. I was beginning to feel as if I knew no one in the world, when one afternoon I was accosted by a person bearing a familiar face. It was Farrell, whom I had known at the diggings of the Stanislaus--the partner of the impatient man, who used to worry the postmaster of Sonora; and who had gone home in such haste, after learning of the death of his wife. "Come along with me," cried Farrell, "I have got a queer story to tell you." I accompanied him to the "Barnum House," where he was staying; and we sat down to have a talk and a drink. "You were quite right about that fellow Foster," said he, as soon as we had got settled in our chairs; "a more treacherous deceitful villain never trod Californian turf--nor any other, for that matter." "You are a little mistaken." I replied, "I never accused him of being either treacherous, or deceitful." "Do you not remember our having a talk about him, the evening before he started home; and my telling you, that he was an honest, plain-speaking fellow?" "Yes; and I remember telling you, that if your statement, of the reason of his anxiety to get his letters, was true, he could not be so very deceitful, or he would have had the decency to have concealed the cause of that anxiety even from you." "I have never been more deceived in my life, than I was in that man," continued Farrell. "Do you know why he was so desirous to hear of his wife's death?" "You said something about another woman." "I did. Who do you suppose that other woman was?" "I haven't the slightest idea."