From Daily Alta California, August 18, 1867, written June 6th.

THE HOLY LAND EXCURSION

Everything is ready, and to-morrow, at 3 P.M., the ship will sail. To-night all the passengers are to gather themselves together at the house of Mr. Beecher, in Brooklyn, to consult concerning the voyage, and to get acquainted. I hope we shall have a pleasant time of it. My creditors held a social reunion last night, and I am sure that they had a pleasant time of it at any rate—at least it was as cheerful as the circumstance of parting with me could make it—and you know I have been an old stand-by with them. I was the salvation of one of those people. He was a collector. His business became reduced till he hadn't a bill left to collect except one against me. That kept him in employment till a brighter day dawned for him. But all through the long night of his distress that one solitary wash-bill was a beacon of hope that never, never went out. Never showed any signs of going out. Never even flickered, I may say. Naturally, that man reveres my name and looks upon me as his benefactor. I have been a benefactor to a good many of his class. I have never mentioned it before. I have gone about doing good in this unostentatious way, and have never said one word about it until this moment.

These people drank wine and made merry, last night, until I was ready to go; then they wept, and presented me with the following beautiful memorial, wrought upon parchment:

MR. MARK TWAIN.

To Mrs. O'Shaughnessy and 9 children.

To washing, which the same has not been paid for—$18.45

To Hope Restaurant for sustenance—$68.25

To subscription to dinner for benefit of Orphan's Fund, 50 cents, and to difference between subscription and amount of dinner consumed by subscriber—$6.30

Several more items of this nature were in the memorial, and also a nice blank place for "RECEIVED PAYMENT." The blank mars the beauty of the thing to some extent, but still I suppose it will answer the way it is. Usually, blanks are unsightly because they are so meaningless, but this one is full of expression.

A SPECIMEN BRICK

I can give you a specimen of our passengers, if you like, but I am glad to say he is the only specimen of the kind on the list at least he is the only one left now. When he heard that General Sherman was going to remain in the States, he howled fearfully. Indeed, he almost shed tears. He said:

"There, I just thought so, all along. I just knew how it would be. I tell you the trip has lost all its charms! I wouldn't give two straws to go now. I had rather have lost my right arm than that this should have happened."

This fellow had tried to stipulate that his wife should be introduced to Miss Sherman early, and have a seat next her at table, and that he should be permitted to sit next the General himself! And next, I suppose this flunkey would have waited to hold the General's hat while he washed his teeth. General Sherman ought to congratulate himself upon his escape from five months' worship by this bred-and-born slave. If that man goes in the ship and you hear that somebody has fallen overboard in a dark and mysterious manner, some night, you can calculate that it is he.

Another passenger—a solemn, unsmiling, sanctimonious old iceberg that looked like he was waiting for a vacancy in the Trinity, as Henry Clapp said of Rev. Dr. Osgood—walked in the other day and stood around for some time, and finally said he had forgotten, when he took passage, to inquire if the excursion would come to a halt on Sundays. Captain Duncan replied that he hardly expected to anchor the ship in the middle of the Atlantic, but that on shore everybody would be free—no restrictions—free to travel on Sunday or not, just as they saw fit; and he had no doubt that some would do one and some the other. The questioner did not groan audibly, but I think he did inwardly. Then he said it would be well for people to calculate their chances before doing wrong; that he had always got into trouble when he travelled on the Sabbath, and that he should do so no more when he could avoid it; that he lately travelled with a man in Illinois who would not lay by on Sunday because he could not afford the time, but he himself laid by and still beat the sinner and got to the end of the journey first.

Now I respected that man's repugnance to violating the Sabbath until he betrayed that he would violate it in a minute if he were not afraid the lightning would strike him, or something else would happen to him, and then I lost my reverence for him. I thought I perceived that he was not good and holy, but only sagacious, and so I turned the key on my valise and moved it out of his reach. I shall have to keep an eye on that fellow.