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100 back to Iowa and see her father and mother! The tent was swept and looked tidy - the care of a woman's mind was evident. The young women in honor of the day - were clearly and tidily dressed. They were amusing themselves with a broken accordion when we entered. No particular pleasure resulted from our conversation - words on their part few and unpolished. The father was not pleased with this country - his stay in it depended on his mining luck. We walked still further up the ravine and stoped at the log house of the Texian Farmer. This house is the best in Natoma. We entered the rough door closed - behind us - a huge fire - was piled upon handirons. The floor was swept - things in their places. All looked snug and comfortable. The mother lay sick - on a high bastead in one corner. The daughter cleanly dressed bestowed hardly a thought or word upon us. The father was out. Our reception attention bestowed &c would seem disagreeable enough at home - but here - society assumes no set ceremonies - no rules. We were welcome of course - but no labor was bestowed to make us think our call particularly pleasing. Our vanity received no flattery. A little daughter came in. She was pert and candid to remarks addressed to her - offered to show us where she had found some wild onions. "Do you not want to see your old friends and playmates" asked her mother? "No!" was the reply. "But you used to like to like them? " I don't care anything about them now!" "But there was Margret and June you used to like very much?" I should like to see June - but Margret I dont like - she's too big!" I thought this little girl's changes of mind - indicated very truly the changes which occur in the emigrants generally. Old friends and influences loose their effect - old habits sentiments and desires are changed - refinements are rubbed off - and in their place comes feelings and actions consistent with their new positions and relations. I often thin in contrasting myself now with former times - how easily traced are the effects of this California adventure. In reading sometimes - those refinements of thought - or delicate expression of feeling which gave me once great pleasure - and were interesting - now they seem stale - affected. They are so misappropriate - to this style of life - that really there is no beauty in them. I wonder how such trifles - such subtle distinctions - could have wrought upon my sensibilities. We walked forth again - and in about a mile got over to Pagons Tent. Found him no better. They are from New York State - and their manners seemed more home-like.