as frequently happens here, the idea of fire frightened us to such a
degree that our one wish was to get away. The upper gallery in which
our box was situated was so low that you could touch the ceiling with
your hand. The gas-jets had no globes, and the flickering flames
suggested everything that was horrible. If there had been a fire no one
could possibly have been saved. We felt no interest in the play. It had
begun a month ago; the hero had not yet advanced further than his
childhood. Perhaps next year when he grows up the play will be more
interesting.

Nougats and other sweets, which looked as if they had circulated since
the hero of the play was born, were passed about to the spectators. We
were glad to reach the hotel in safety and bid our nice American
policeman good night.


SAN FRANCISCO, _May, 1877_.

My dear Aunt,--The letters of introduction we brought to San Francisco
have already procured us many invitations.

We were at a dinner last night, which Governor Stanford gave us. He has
only twenty-five millions--hardly worth mentioning. Each of us ladies
had a millionaire to take us in to dinner. Mine was most amiable. He
passed all the other millionaires _en revue_; I wish I could remember
all he said about them, but I only have a sort of vague recollection
that every millionaire had come to San Francisco with only fifty cents
in his pocket, and that all the millionaires' wives had gone, in former
days, about in the streets of San Francisco selling milk or thread and
needles. I was not spared the history of any of them. Mr. S. himself