waves with great rapidity, pressed forward by a vast and unprecedented spread of canvas on the tall masts, while from the sloping decks new companies of Argonauts saw the distant Andes break the eastern horizon, or gazed in wonder at the unfamiliar constellation of the Southern Cross.

In those days there were but few farms in the interior, and Oregon had hardly begun to be settled, so that almost all the supplies of the city were brought from great distances. Some flour came in from Australia and Chili, and a little sugar and rice from Asia, but the greater part of the provisions and other goods needed was brought from the North Atlantic States, by the long route around South America. All this was changed upon the opening of the Panama Railway, in 1855, connecting comparatively short lines of steam-navigation on both sides. In a single year 6,000 tons of biscuit were shipped from New York to San Francisco, around the Horn, passing twice through the torrid zone. During the earlier days there were alternate seasons of scarcity and of abundance. At one time, tobacco sold for 8s. a pound, and within a year the market was so overstocked that boxes of the weed were thrown down in the mud, to serve as stepping-stones, and employed also as foundations for buildings. A pound of saleratus was worth £3 in gold. Balances, worth 1s., sold readily for £15. Cotton cloth was as valuable as silk. The completion of the Pacific Railway, in 1869, placed San Francisco within less than a week of New York (the distance being something over 3,300 miles); and it is no longer possible for such vicissitudes to occur. The neighbouring counties produce an abundance of bread-stuffs and other supplies; and the people of the city are rapidly getting into a way of establishing factories, to supply their other needs. The chief manufacturing is connected with the iron-foundries, of which there are nearly fifty, and several brass-foundries, employing 3,000 men. Iron and coal cost twice or thrice as much as in Pennsylvania, or England, yet these works are conducted at a profit, being mainly engaged in making ponderous machinery for the mines, engines of great power and endurance, locomotives, steamship-engines, and other works in iron of the largest class. There are also chemical works, car factories, sugar refineries, powder-mills, ship-yards, cotton-mills, glass-houses, assaying works, petroleum refineries, and other branches of manufacturing industry. The famous Mission Mills employ nearly 400 Chinamen, and make the finest woollen blankets in the world.

The San Franciscan peninsula-although many of its hills have been cast into the sea to make new streets-still retains several bold and picturesque eminences, commanding very attractive views over the surrounding waters and the diversified coast counties. On the north stands Telegraph Hill, from whose summit signals were formerly displayed on the approach of ships, indicating the class and colours of the in-bound vessels, and warning the isolated citizens to make ready for the expected arrivals. On one side it overlooks the placid inland sea, the frowning fortress-walls on Alcatraz, and the distant crest of Mount Tamalpais; and on the other the long streets, crowded with stirring life, stretch away towards the Mission Peaks and Bernal Heights. Farther away appear the fair leagues of the Santa Clara Valley, the rugged Potrero ridges, the populous Bay towns, from Alameda to Berkeley, and many a frowning mountain, many a line of jagged sierras. Under the shelter of Telegraph Hill, on the south, was the famous Happy Valley of the first

immigrants, where the tents of the adventurers stood thick as on the camp-ground of an army corps.

Spanishtown clings to the western slope of Telegraph Hill, and is the abode of the Mexicans and Spanish-Californians. At Carnival-time there are strange festivities in this Latin faubourg, when rival bands of play-day warriors fight for hours, pelting each other with hundreds of pounds of flour, and the victors have the honour of naming the lady who shall be queen of the coming festivities. In 1881 the Cuartel Colorado companies fought the Pueblo Nuevo regiment for many hours, one division preferring the Señorita Guadalupe Carbano, and the other choosing the Señorita Manuela Hermiera, as the sovereign lady of the Carnival-tide.

Barbary Coast, a densely-populated locality at the foot of Telegraph Hill, and close to the busiest streets, is the plague-spot of San Francisco-the haunt of the wicked, the profligate, and the abandoned classes. Within a few crowded squares there is enough human venom to poison a continent, enough misery to plunge the angelic hosts into unavailing grief. Thirty years ago, assassinations were of almost daily occurrence, and the revolver, the bowie-knife, the stiletto, found many a victim among these horrible dens, where desperadoes of both sexes and of all nations held high revelry. Criminals found here a city of refuge; and honest men caught within its purlieus were robbed—perhaps were murdered. The vigilance and activity of a strong police force have averted much of this peril at the present time; but the Barbary Coast and Dupont Street still invite and nourish the libertinism for which San Francisco is so sadly celebrated- -so mournfully pre-eminent among Anglo-Saxon cities. It is within these precincts that the traveller can comprehend something of what the entire settlement was thirty years ago, when (to use the amply vigorous words of an English traveller) "the scum of Polynesia, desperadoes from Australia, bullies and blackguards from the wild State of Missouri, Spanish cut-throats from the cities of the Pacific coast, dissolute women and reckless adventurers from the slums of Europe, congregated in San Francisco, and there plied their several avocations, and followed their devious courses, in defiance of a law which had lost its terrors for them, and in disregard of any other check save the revolver or the bowie-knife. At that time San Francisco was one-half a brothel and one-half a gaming-hell.”

To the southward of Telegraph Hill, just beyond the heart of the city, rises Rincon Hill, at one time the aristosratic quarter, but latterly well-nigh ruined by street-cuttings. Farther west is Russian Hill, 360 feet high, and, with the adjacent Clay Street and California Street Hills, forming the third wall of the triangular amphitheatre in which most of the buildings are placed. Farther towards the sea is Lone Mountain, which is neither lone nor a mountain, but a shapely conical hill, crowned with an enormous white cross, and surrounded with graves. The hill belongs to the Roman Catholic Church, and is entirely enclosed by the burying-ground of that sect. In the vicinity are several other large and beautiful cemeteries, pertaining to the non-Catholics, and adorned with costly monuments. This entire district, where Romanists, Freemasons, Dissenters of all sorts, the soldiers, statesmen, and financiers of the infant commonwealth, are buried, is popularly known as Lone Mountain, and the term has in it something weird and sad, befitting such a locality. From the flowery crest of the hill (Calvary the Romanists call it) one may

waves with great rapidity, pressed forward by a vast and unprecedented spread of canvas on the tall masts, while from the sloping decks new companies of Argonauts saw the distant Andes break the eastern horizon, or gazed in wonder at the unfamiliar constellation of the Southern Cross.

In those days there were but few farms in the interior, and Oregon had hardly begun to be settled, so that almost all the supplies of the city were brought from great distances. Some flour came in from Australia and Chili, and a little sugar and rice from Asia, but the greater part of the provisions and other goods needed was brought from the North Atlantic States, by the long route around South America. All this was changed upon the opening of the Panama Railway, in 1855, connecting comparatively short lines of steam-navigation on both sides. In a single year 6,000 tons of biscuit were shipped from New York to San Francisco, around the Horn, passing twice through the torrid zone. During the earlier days there were alternate seasons of scarcity and of abundance. At one time, tobacco sold for 8s. a pound, and within a year the market was so overstocked that boxes of the weed were thrown down in the mud, to serve as stepping-stones, and employed also as foundations for buildings. A pound of saleratus was worth £3 in gold. Balances, worth 1s., sold readily for £15. Cotton cloth was as valuable as silk. The completion of the Pacific Railway, in 1869, placed San Francisco within less than a week of New York (the distance being something over 3,300 miles); and it is no longer possible for such vicissitudes to occur. The neighbouring counties produce an abundance of bread-stuffs and other supplies; and the people of the city are rapidly getting into a way of establishing factories, to supply their other needs. The chief manufacturing is connected with the iron-foundries, of which there are nearly fifty, and several brass-foundries, employing 3,000 men. Iron and coal cost twice or thrice as much as in Pennsylvania, or England, yet these works are conducted at a profit, being mainly engaged in making ponderous machinery for the mines, engines of great power and endurance, locomotives, steamship-engines, and other works in iron of the largest class. There are also chemical works, car factories, sugar refineries, powder-mills, ship-yards, cotton-mills, glass-houses, assaying works, petroleum refineries, and other branches of manufacturing industry. The famous Mission Mills employ nearly 400 Chinamen, and make the finest woollen blankets in the world.

The San Franciscan peninsula-although many of its hills have been cast into the sea to make new streets-still retains several bold and picturesque eminences, commanding very attractive views over the surrounding waters and the diversified coast counties. On the north stands Telegraph Hill, from whose summit signals were formerly displayed on the approach of ships, indicating the class and colours of the in-bound vessels, and warning the isolated citizens to make ready for the expected arrivals. On one side it overlooks the placid inland sea, the frowning fortress-walls on Alcatraz, and the distant crest of Mount Tamalpais; and on the other the long streets, crowded with stirring life, stretch away towards the Mission Peaks and Bernal Heights. Farther away appear the fair leagues of the Santa Clara Valley, the rugged Potrero ridges, the populous Bay towns, from Alameda to Berkeley, and many a frowning mountain, many a line of jagged sierras. Under the shelter of Telegraph Hill, on the south, was the famous Happy Valley of the first

immigrants, where the tents of the adventurers stood thick as on the camp-ground of an

army corps.

Spanishtown clings to the western slope of Telegraph Hill, and is the abode of the Mexicans and Spanish-Californians. At Carnival-time there are strange festivities in this Latin faubourg, when rival bands of play-day warriors fight for hours, pelting each other with hundreds of pounds of flour, and the victors have the honour of naming the lady who shall be queen of the coming festivities. In 1881 the Cuartel Colorado companies fought the Pueblo Nuevo regiment for many hours, one division preferring the Señorita Guadalupe Carbano, and the other choosing the Señorita Manuela Hermiera, as the sovereign lady of the Carnival-tide.

Barbary Coast, a densely-populated locality at the foot of Telegraph Hill, and close to the busiest streets, is the plague-spot of San Francisco-the haunt of the wicked, the profligate, and the abandoned classes. Within a few crowded squares there is enough human venom to poison a continent, enough misery to plunge the angelic hosts into unavailing grief. Thirty years ago, assassinations were of almost daily occurrence, and the revolver, the bowie-knife, the stiletto, found many a victim among these horrible dens, where desperadoes of both sexes and of all nations held high revelry. Criminals found here a city of refuge; and honest men caught, within its purlieus were robbed-perhaps were murdered. The vigilance and activity of a strong police force have averted much of this peril at the present time; but the Barbary Coast and Dupont Street still invite and nourish the libertinism for which San Francisco is so sadly celebrated-so mournfully pre-eminent among Anglo-Saxon cities. It is within these precincts that the traveller can comprehend something of what the entire settlement was thirty years ago, when (to use the amply vigorous words of an English traveller) "the scum of Polynesia, desperadoes from Australia, bullies and blackguards from the wild State of Missouri, Spanish cut-throats from the cities of the Pacific coast, dissolute women and reckless adventurers from the slums of Europe, congregated in San Francisco, and there plied their several avocations, and followed their devious courses, in defiance of a law which had lost its terrors for them, and in disregard of any other check save the revolver or the bowie-knife. At that time San Francisco was one-half a brothel and one-half a gaming-hell."

To the southward of Telegraph Hill, just beyond the heart of the city, rises Rincon Hill, at one time the aristosratic quarter, but latterly well-nigh ruined by street-cuttings. Farther west is Russian Hill, 360 feet high, and, with the adjacent Clay Street and California Street Hills, forming the third wall of the triangular amphitheatre in which most of the buildings are placed. Farther towards the sea is Lone Mountain, which is neither lone nor a mountain, but a shapely conical hill, crowned with an enormous white cross, and surrounded with graves. The hill belongs to the Roman Catholic Church, and is entirely enclosed by the burying-ground of that sect. In the vicinity are several other large and beautiful cemeteries, pertaining to the non-Catholics, and adorned with costly monuments. This entire district, where Romanists, Freemasons, Dissenters of all sorts, the soldiers, statesmen, and financiers of the infant commonwealth, are buried, is popularly known as Lone Mountain, and the term has in it something weird and sad, befitting such a locality. From the flowery crest of the hill (Calvary the Romanists call it) one may

waves with great rapidity, pressed forward by a vast and unprecedented spread of canvas on the tall masts, while from the sloping decks new companies of Argonauts saw the distant Andes break the eastern horizon, or gazed in wonder at the unfamiliar constellation of the Southern Cross.

In those days there were but few farms in the interior, and Oregon had hardly begun to be settled, so that almost all the supplies of the city were brought from great distances. Some flour came in from Australia and Chili, and a little sugar and rice from Asia, but the greater part of the provisions and other goods needed was brought from the North Atlantic States, by the long route around South America. All this was changed upon the opening of the Panama Railway, in 1855, connecting comparatively short lines of steam-navigation on both sides. In a single year 6,000 tons of biscuit were shipped from New York to San Francisco, around the Horn, passing twice through the torrid zone. During the earlier days there were alternate seasons of scarcity and of abundance. At one time, tobacco sold for 8s. a pound, and within a year the market was so overstocked that boxes of the weed were thrown down in the mud, to serve as stepping-stones, and employed also as foundations for buildings. A pound of saleratus was worth £3 in gold. Balances, worth 1s., sold readily for £15. Cotton cloth was as valuable as silk. The completion of the Pacific Railway, in 1869, placed San Francisco within less than a week of New York (the distance being something over 3,300 miles); and it is no longer possible for such vicissitudes to occur. The neighbouring counties produce an abundance of bread-stuffs and other supplies; and the people of the city are rapidly getting into a way of establishing factories, to supply their other needs. The chief manufacturing is connected with the iron-foundries, of which there are nearly fifty, and several brass-foundries, employing 3,000 men. Iron and coal cost twice or thrice as much as in Pennsylvania, or England, yet these works are conducted at a profit, being mainly engaged in making ponderous machinery for the mines, engines of great power and endurance, locomotives, steamship-engines, and other works in iron of the largest class. There are also chemical works, car factories, sugar refineries, powder-mills, ship-yards, cotton-mills, glass-houses, assaying works, petroleum refineries, and other branches of manufacturing industry. The famous Mission Mills employ nearly 400 Chinamen, and make the finest woollen blankets in the world.

The San Franciscan peninsula-although many of its hills have been cast into the sea to make new streets-still retains several bold and picturesque eminences, commanding very attractive views over the surrounding waters and the diversified coast counties. On the north stands Telegraph Hill, from whose summit signals were formerly displayed on the approach of ships, indicating the class and colours of the in-bound vessels, and warning the isolated citizens to make ready for the expected arrivals. On one side it overlooks the placid inland sea, the frowning fortress-walls on Alcatraz, and the distant crest of Mount Tamalpais; and on the other the long streets, crowded with stirring life, stretch away towards the Mission Peaks and Bernal Heights. Farther away appear the fair leagues of the Santa Clara Valley, the rugged Potrero ridges, the populous Bay towns, from Alameda to Berkeley, and many a frowning mountain, many a line of jagged sierras. Under the shelter of Telegraph Hill, on the south, was the famous Happy Valley of the first