I left San Francisco December 1, and had two days of travel. It seemed as though I was in another world, cut loose from all I ever cherished. The world never looked so vast to me before and it was as an open desert without one friendly face in sight, alone, adrift, knowing not the ultimate point of my travels. I was rudely awakened the morning of the second day by the whistle of the engine and the clamor of bells and bustling of feet. I arose quickly and soon was received by my son, who was awaiting my coming, and I said, "Here I am, I have obeyed your orders and now I am to do just as I please, and rest from my labor." He replied, "You have earned your rest after all these years, mother." So we happily proceeded to his cottage, where welcome awaited us. All seemed strange to me after so many years in San Francisco where I was known to all, yet I hoped to meet other pleasant faces and cheerfully accepted the situation with my son and daughter and their friends. During our conversation my daughter informed me that the ladies of the Episcopal Guild had voted unanimously that I had been accepted as the soloist of the choir of St. John's Church. Through their efforts I was to receive the salary of $20 a month. The church was not more than a beginning. The congregation worshipped in a large store on one of the main streets which had been fitted into a comfortable chapel. Mrs. Foster, from San Francisco, one of the many musical people there, had settled in that city and was the organist of that church, unknown to me, as I supposed, but when we met her greeting, "I am glad to meet you, Charity Pecksniff," surprised me. Through her the people soon found out who I was and I not only had the church position secured but also eight pupils ready to begin lessons in voice when I was ready to open my studio to them. So good or evil report follows us through our lives and makes for us our success or failure.