Thus ended our journey of 2,390 miles (from St. Louis), accomplished in six days and five nights, the longest railway journey we had ever taken at one time; and truly thankful to the Lord were we for His protecting care during our travels, and for the comforts of the resting place now provided for us. On the evening of Friday, April 26th, at the lecture room of the Calvary Presbyterian Church, Mr. Müller gave his first address at San Francisco; and, after the meeting was over, James Wilkinson, an orphan formerly on Ashley Down, came up to speak to him. He had been living in the United States for fifteen years, and was not only converted himself, but had been used by the Lord as an instrument of great blessing to the souls of others. On Sunday morning, April 28th, Mr. Müller preached at the Tabernacle Presbyterian Church, Tyler Street, to about 1,800 people; in the evening he addressed nearly 2,000 at the same church; and on the 29th preached at the Metropolitan Temple to a congregation of 800. On the 30th, a gentleman called in his carriage and took us for a drive to Cliff House, seven miles distant, near the Golden Gate, a strait two miles wide, which leads from the Bay into the Pacific Ocean. Many years ago the spot on which San Francisco now stands was covered with hills formed of sand, blown there in immense quantities from the shores of the Pacific by the strong winds which constantly prevail; but now a "magnificent city" (as some call it) has been erected upon the site that formerly was nothing but a barren waste. Upon arriving at the coast of the Pacific, we took a walk upon the beach, a vast region composed entirely of sand, which, as no rain falls in California from the middle of April until October, becomes extremely troublesome, because it is blown inland in prodigious quantities for miles by the trade winds, for which that locality is noted. During the winter rain falls every day; but frost, except in the mountains and northern portions of the State (generally speaking), is unknown. During our walk the tide was nearly high; but when low, beautiful shells in great variety are found upon these shores. After walking some time upon the sands, our friend conducted us to Cliff House, an hotel built upon a high rock overlooking the ocean, where, from a balcony, we had an opportunity of observing the sea-lions, by which the rocks that stand out in the sea are frequented. Hundreds of these curious, amphibious creatures were there, with their pointed heads, and bodies shining with salt water. Some were basking in the sunshine on dry portions of the cliffs, others were plunging into the sea, several were climbing up sloping places on the rocks, and others were barking discordantly. Soon after our arrival at Cliff House, a young waiter introduced himself as the brother of Emma Evans, one of the orphans formerly on Ashley Down. He knew we were in the United States, and having often heard Mr. Müller preach in Bristol years ago,