Three miles of fast riding brought us to a grove of oak, now wrapped in the purple twilight. Along this we streamed till reaching a bold bend, which circled up into its shadows, when the fagot flame of the cottage struck the eye. Our horses bounded forward on the gallop, knowing as well as we that the weary day was now over. Here we found my friend, Dr. Isabell and his good lady, who gave us a hearty welcome. True, their cabin had but one room in it; but what of that?—hearts make a home in the wilderness. Our first care was for our animals, which were soon watered and turned into a rich meadow, with a faithful Indian to watch them through the night. Our busy hostess soon announced supper—beefsteak, omelet, hot rolls, and coffee, with sugar and cream! If you want to know how that supper relished, come and live a month in the mines of California. We run over our adventures since leaving Monterey, and they chimed in well with those of our host in his wild-wood home. Kindred and friends far away came sweeping down on the stream of memory, and gathered life-like and warm at our sides. We lived over again all our school-days, our rustic sports, our husking-bees, our youthful loves, and those stolen kisses, which the sterner rules of refinement have interdicted only to give place to Polkas, in which modesty is too much bewildered to blush. Our hospitable friends welcomed us to all the sleeping comforts which their cabin afforded; but we camped under the trees, and were soon afloat in the realm of dreams, amid its visioned forms. “Alas! that dreams are only dreams! That fancy cannot give A lasting beauty to those forms, Which scarce a moment live.” CHAPTER XXIV. A LADY IN THE MOUNTAINS.—TOWN OF STOCKTON.—CROSSING THE VALLEY OF THE SAN JOAQUIN.—THE ROBBED FATHER AND BOY.—RIDE TO SAN JOSÉ.—RUM IN CALIFORNIA.—HIGHWAYMEN.—WOODLAND LIFE.—RACHEL AT THE WELL.—FAREWELL TO MY CAMPING-TREE.