ed, and, to the child's amazement, they immediately moved into
what seemed to her a very fine house, and she had a wax doll for
Christmas.

For a few succeeding years happiness seemed to have returned to dwell
with the little family. Osbourne soon made his way in the busy city
and all went well. They lived in San Francisco for several years.
There a son was born to them, and they named him Lloyd, after their
good friend, John Lloyd, now a successful lawyer.

Those peaceful days were brought to an end when Mrs. Osbourne
discovered that her husband had again betrayed her, and she returned
to her father's house in Indiana. After nearly a year she yielded to
entreaties and promises of reform, and again journeyed to California,
taking Cora Van de Grift, one of her younger sisters, with her.

A little while after their return to San Francisco, in 1869, Osbourne
bought a house and lot for his family in East Oakland, then known as
Brooklyn, at the corner of Eleventh Avenue and East 18th Street.
Settled under their own rooftree in the golden land of California, the
family for a time were measurably happy. Mrs. Osbourne, who is
described as being then "a young and slender woman, wearing her hair
in two long braids down her back," was evidently making a strong
effort to forget past differences and to make home a pleasant place
for her children. Though she cared little for society in the general
sense of the word, yet she contrived to gather about her in East
Oakland a little intimate circle of clever, talented, and agreeable
people. Among them were Judge Timothy Rearden, a well-known attorney
and _litterateur_ of San Francisco; Virgil Williams, director of the
San Francisco School of Design, and his wife; Yelland, Bush, and other
distinguished artists; the musician Oscar Weil, and many more whose
names do not now come to mind.

She built a studio where she painted, had a dark room where she took
photographs--and photography in those days of "wet plates" was a
mysterious and unheard-of accomplishment for an amateur; then there
was a rifle-range where she set up a target, and, occasionally, when
it was the cook's day out, she would make wonderful dishes, while odd
moments were filled in at a sewing-machine making pretty clothes. By
this time she had become a famous cook, and often prepared dinners fit
to set before a king. She little thought then that some day she would
break bread with real kings, even though they were but Poly