We have been touched frequently to our very hearts in these rooms by the musical performances of our musical brethren. Frequently, roused by the strains of music, the tears have rushed to our eyes. Do you think that heaven, which is so far above, is less sensitive to the charm than we poor mortals? Of course, the quiet quartet of the amateurs or the soprano in the boudoir cannot much influence our California sky. This influence begins with the solitary flute accompanying the heartrending wails of a rat terrier addressing the moon; it gains power with the performance of the wild Italian organgrinder, and attains its maximum with the brass band that leads the bold militia warrior to glory and the destruction of sandwiches and whisky.

I recollect a body of heroes wearing rainbows instead of regimentals and having painted on their knapsacks the head of a tiger in an attitude as if his teeth were inspected by a dentist. By the first notes of their brass band the azure of our California sky turned into a delicate apple-green, and it began to rain. Half an hour later we received a telegram that Sacramento was under water. Another deluge - and the destruction of the world-was prevented by stopping the music.

You may call that a coincidence, but in this wide world there is not room for a single coincidence; everything is immutable law, the whole universe a network of cause and effect. You may sing and say we met by chance, but in reality we did not meet by chance, but compelled by the Darwinian law of natural selection. The spheroid shape of this planet is the cause that we wear off our boots on one side, by frequently walking too much in one direction. Why are the days longer in summer than in

winter? It is the consequence of the caloric law; they are expanded by the heat in summer and contracted by the cold in winter.

I had a friend, a dear friend in Australia, who never could go shooting without being caught in a thunderstorm. The Australian Legislature, ever attentive to the agricultural interests of the country, appointed him Inspector of Thunderstorms. Five months afterwards he was killed by lightning. Why have we not a similar institution? It would be a blessing for this country if every five months a legislator was killed by lightning, like that old Roman king and legislator, Numa Pompilius, who must not be mistaken for Paul Neumann, whom I have known as a legislator, but who is no king, and, I am happy to say, is not yet killed by lightning.

I DIVIDE the existence of California into two periods: the first, before the foundation of the Bohemian Club, has to be considered as prehistoric. Even this period is distinguished by a very peculiar character, gradually changing to three different stages or grades, which I am to illustrate by three different experiences.

I was but a few days in San Francisco. when a rough-looking individual—a Texas Ranger, as I afterwards heard-laid his hand on my shoulder, with the words, "Old horse, take a drink?" I had presence of mind enough to take the drink, and had afterwards several opportunities to get even with the gentleman in taking drinks as well as in calling him "old horse."

The second experience was on the day