It was decided that on the Fourth of July there should be a dedication of the log cabin and a patriotic programme. I was most fortunate in having as guests Mr. W.S. Goodfellow's family and their guest, Mrs. Amsden. A more fortunate addition could not have been desired. After my friends had rested from the journey I unfolded my plan and their assistance was readily given. We had also as guests Col. Sumner and wife, Bvt. Col. Parnell and family, Mr. Geo. Metcalf and two sons, Mr. Johnson from Sacramento, son of Grove L. Johnson, and members from a number of San Francisco's prominent families. On Saturday night there were many notables from Sacramento, educators and others. I was in the highest state of enthusiasm for my Fourth of July oration was to come from Col. Parnell, the only survivor of the battle of Balaklava. Col. Sumner was master of ceremonies. A prominent teacher from San Francisco drilled all the children of the guests. Not one was omitted who could add an acceptable number to our already excellent program. Even our estimable housekeeper, Sarah Markwart, proved herself quite a poet, besides surprising the great number of guests and strangers with a delicious repast of cake and cream after the exercises were over. The dining hall was decorated with evergreens, flags and wild flowers. On each table was a delicious cake, graced with the American flag, and patriotic emblems were upon the napkins. With all her labor she found time to contribute her offering and wrote Lines upon the Racket, as she called it, and when the guests were all seated the verses were read by one of the teachers: "LINES UPON THE RACKET" High up in the snow-capped Sierras, Not far from Tahoe's beautiful sheet, Nestling amid the firs and pines, Is a beautiful summer retreat. There is where tired mortals go To rest their brains and weary bones, Forgetting about the busy world, Contented to be perfect drones. Enjoying the beautiful sunshiny days, And breathing the purest of mountain air; For the time caring for naught And saying with the poet, Begone, dull care. But as mortals cannot live on sunshine and air, In that beautiful canon near the foaming stream, Stands the famous Deer Park Inn, Midst forest trees forever green. There the most epicurean can find Food the envy of a king; Nowhere such trout in all the world And cooked as nice as anything. Dear host and hostess, may they live long; Health and happiness may they never lack; And when they retire from their rural home, May they carry with them a well-filled "sack." For none so watchful could be on earth, To please and satisfy each guest, As they have proved to be to all; Their fame will extend from East to West.