SAN FRANCISCO.

Otago Daily Times, Issue 2677, 5 September 1870, Page 3

SAN FRANCISCO.

(fbom our oWk cokrespondeht.)

Salt Lake City, July 2nd.

HONOLULU TO THE GOLDEN GATE

I .have been staying in Salt Lake Csty | during1 the past three weeks, and am writing you from there, but my letter will contain nothing about matters in Salt Lake, or in Utah territory. This I hope to give you by and bye, and in its proper order ; but I have been travelling so-much faster than writing, that I have fallen' behind hand, and have to make up for lee-way. I have got to bring you from Honolulu to San Francisco, for instance, describe this 3 latter city, its people, their manners and customs. The doing so will, I fear, occupy e^ery inch of available space you can give me, and therefore my visits to the other cities of California, my journeys through the State itself, through the neighbouring ones of Oregon, of Nevada, Idaho, and Utah, and along the Great Pacific Railway, must stand over for future opportunities.

To start then from Honolulu : our journey from there to San Francisco, was not on the whole an unpleasant one. Like all Holliday and Brenham's boats, the Idaho was very old, and very slow; a boat that averaged seven knots an hour, aDd with a gale of wind after her, might possibly be got to do eight knots, but never more. Then a man, whose nerves are not particularly Btrong might have objected to that incessant creaking about the saloon, whilst the rolling beats everything I ever came across in my life. The fare, however, was good, the passengers sociable, and these things go a long way in making a passage pleasant. But about this vessel—as indeed about all American vessels —there was much that was new and strange to us colonists. It was strange to us, at first, and not pleasant either to have no deck to walk upon. That great big house which ran along its entire length from stem to stern, was an eyesore, always in the way. What in the world was the use of that two or three feet of space which ran around it to those threescore restless, energetic spirits on board, whose limbs waxed stiff for want of exercise ? Why a good lurch would have sent them toppling over the gingerbread bulwark, which scarcely reached to the knee of a man of ordinary height. And in this matter of exercise I noticed a marked difference between the Australasians and Americans on board. The co oniats, men and women, were always on deck. Whenever the opportunity of being there came in their way, they never missed it. On the other hand, the Americans, particularly the women, passed most of their time in the saloon. Indeed, I am satisfied many of theae ladies never appeared upon deck at all during the 13 or 14 days we were out, and of those who did appear, most of them did so for a few moments only, diving hurriedly down below again into the saloon. No wonder the bloom on their cheeks had vanished when we got to San Francisco; no wonder there was a languor in their movements when the time for moving had arrived. But, besides these things, there were other things, too, that appeared strange in our eyes. It was strange not to see a man at the wheel, or a wheel for a man to be at. It was s'range not to see any watch upon deck, or officer in charge of the watch. "These things w re all dc ne away forward, if they were done at all. Perhaps they were. One thing, however, I can pledge my veracity was not done, and that was that our boots were never blacked during the voyage. My own, at all events, were not. The stewards, I presume, considered it to be no business of theirs, at all events they acted as if they did not ; which, I suppose, amounts to the same thing. I understood, indeed, the luxury might be purchased every morning upon payment of two bits (Is), or 10s for the trip ; but a 9 the luxury was too expensive a one, I cannot speak from experience ; but I can say, when I landed at San Francisco my boots had a brown paper, leathery look about them which it took a large quantity of blacking and no end of polishing to get over. Though, however, the steward was above blacking one's boots he was not above accepting the perquisites of hia stewardship. Mine, I know, was fully alive to this matter, and told me so too in very plain terms. It happened in this wise. The first night we were at sea I wanted the port closed in my cabin, and called in the steward to do so; "All right, Boss," he said ; " I guess I'll fix it straight away. You look to me for everything you want, and I'll look to you when we get to San Francisco." It is true this plain speaking fellow was a native of Madeira, so he informed me, but his thirteen years seafaring life in the Pacific must have washed all his native modesty out of him. They are a thriving class out here though, these stewards and waiters, and perhaps have a right to be independent, getting, as they do, their LIO, Ll2, and Lls a month. We did not see the Fan Farallones, though some of us were led to believe that we did. This faith that was in us arose in this way. When you came upon deck you were seized upon by some energetic friend, and directed to look in a certain direction. "Do you see them?" you are asked. No, you don't see them, *' Not see them! why, God bless my soul, there they are over yonder, quite plain." Once more you try to penetrate the gloom, and strain your eyes in your efforts to pierce the bank of fog hanging lazily on the horizon. After a time you, too, fancy you can trace the outlines of the Farallones ; but it is only a passing fancy. But what are these Farallones, you ask? They are islands, some seven in number, lying out in the Pacific, thirty miles west of "the Golden Gate, whereon monster sea lionß, thousands of pounds in weight, take up their abode, and innumerable sea fowls lay their millions of eggs. ! SAN FRAWCISCO BAY. But, before long, our attention was taken up with o her things. We were in the Bay of San Fiancisco. A crescent shaped sheet lof water, surrounded by high land which peeped out here and there up above the fog, whilst looming through the latter were at least hf\lf a dozen large steamers. Some from the North, from Oregon, from Eureka, from Crescent City, and some from the South —probably from San Diego, Santa Barbara ; possibly from Mazatlan, Guaymas, or La Paz. We are all making for the same point, for that smill opening which the disappearj ing fog discloses in ihe high, massive, iron bound coast right in front of us. Not very far off is Drake's Bay, so called after our great navigator, who, some three hundred years ago, visited these waters. Away, on our right hand, close to the Go den Gate entrance, washed almost by the white breakers surging at its very feet, and surrounded by sandhills, stands the Cliff House, the resort of San Franciscans —health-seekers and pleasure-seekers. A narrow opening in the rock-bound headlmd admits us, and we soon pass by Fort Point on our right hand, and Lime Point on our left. These form the door-posts of the Golden Gate. This entrance is always spnken of and written about in glowing terms, but. in good truth, there is nothing very glowing about it. On your right hand, you see some sharp jagged rocks running away downwards to the eeft, and up, above them, perched on the top, flying the stars and stripes, stands a large, red brickbuilt fort, thickly studded with heavy guns. Where the entrance ceaEes and the harbour begins, trending away in a gentle sweep, stand numerous rows of many huts—the barracks of the cavalry, who are plainly visible on parade going through their several evolutions. On this side there was plenty of sand to be seen, blown into all sorts of mouads and hollows, running away f om the margin of the sea, away back over the rising ground behind, and glaring painfully in the hoij rays of the scorching sun. On the left-hand side the view has more of pleasantness about it. The land rises up somewhat precipitously, but it is carpeted to the very top, and it is pleasant to the eye to *est on its green thick swathe of grass, looking 80 close and spongy. Ido not know, that the land hereabouts is like anything I can call to mind just now in Ocugo; but Ido know this Marin county away here on the left hand side is very like the land on both sides of Lyttelton harbour. But one has very little time at his disposal for observation, for, with the tide favourable, the steamer runs through the entrance 9

itself in no time, and then the magnificent harbour of San Francisco opens out. At first when it opens upon you, there is a feeling of disappointment in your mind. You" have read ar»d heard so much of this harbour of San Francisco, that you naturally look for something more than a land-locked sheet of water. You expected to have found yourself ,in some great inland lake stretching away right on end some fifty miles or more. Juat have patience a little while. Meantime you are passing by forests of masts, closely packed together, studding the right hand shore, and runningl along one of its bightff for some distance. Away back from the bight, over the crest of the hill, runs the North Beach. a- suburb of San Francisco. Every available space is covered with murky houses. Factory chimneys belch forth their black rolling volumes of grimy smoke. The hum of busy-industry comes travelling down to us across the water. A turn of the headland aud you are ia San Franeisoo. Now, for the first time you can realise to the fall the magnificent proportions of the harbour. There it now lies before you in all its glory, a big sheet of water. You can take in its size and vastness, though not to the full, for as it runs away up to your left, up towards Vallejo, that inner basin of Suisan Bay is hidden from your sight altogether by a sudden curve in the ground up the way of the San Joaquin (pro. San- Wa Keen), stilly sufficiently so to show that not without reason Californians are proud of their harbour. Yes, it is a big sheet of water, with its windings, its curves, and- myriads of little bays. It has more of length, however, than of breadth. Right across there, not very far off, not more than a mile or two, lies Oakland ; but if you were to traverse it lengthwise, going away up to your left, and turning that curve 1 have just spoken of, after reaching Benecia, some thirty miles away, you would still be in the outskirts of this harbour of San Francisco. Then again, on your right hand, away south to the pretty town of San Jobo (pro. San Ho-z£) this wa'ersheet extends some twenty miles and more. LANDING IN SAN FRANCISCO. As we neared the wharf of the North Pacific Transportation Company, covered over with a large shed, crowds of people were congregated there, awaiting the arrival of the Idaho and its living freight of Australasians, of whose arrival they had been notified hours before by means of the telegraph. But it was not such an easy matter to get alongside that wharf. The captain on board shouted himself hoarse, and the Superintendent on shore gesticulated like a maniac. But there were others on shore too just as maniacal in their actions as the Superintendent of the North Pacific Transportation Company. There they were, some of them shying cards on board, or rather trying to do so, for never a one of these reached their destination. Others, again, screamed themselves hoarse with their cries of '* Brooklyn," " Grand," "Rock Island," "Chicago," and " Burlington,", and such like. At last we got close up to the wharf, and then, oh me ! What a scene there was. What a confusion, a crushing, and a pushing. " Occidental ! Oc idental !" " Lick !" " Grand Brooklyn!" "Do you want to go to Brooklyn, sir?" were roared in your ear, all at once, and in every possible key, by stout parties, know-ing-looking and brazen-faced, who, seizing upon your luggage, will carry it off in an instant. To-morrow, perhaps, if you are fortunate, you will find your hat box at the Lick, your carpet bag at the Occidental, and your overcoat at the Grand. For my own part, I sat down resolutely on my goods and chattels, awaiting the arrival of the customhouse officer, awaiting, too, until this execrable din and hubbub, this pushing and loud swearing, had subsided. Having travelled a little in my time, I thought I would bring whateversmallexperiencelhad acquired in so doing to my aid. I would not stir just yet; 1 would bide my time, and take things coolly. After all, however, I was undono ; but my undoing was occasioned by none of these roaring Irish bully boys around me. A mild looking man he was, who brought me to grief. He was not only mild in face, but mild in speech as well, and very civ/1 withal. There was an insinuation in his voice which was irresistible, as he asked me if I were going to the Occidental. Yes, I was going to the Occidental, but not just yet. "Well, Sir," said my dulcet-toned friend, " I guess you had better go now; the hotel coach is not full, but they'll all be taken up very soon." What could Ido but acquiesce ? With my carpet bag in my hand 1 followed this civil functionary, and my portmanteau, which he carried through the crowded saloon, along the well, filled deck, down the closely packed gangway, and along the wharf, just as thickly crowded. " There,'1 said this gentleman, "I got you safely through the customs," and he jerked my portmanteau and carpet bag on to the driver's seat as he spoke. There was a cunning look about his face as he said this, and a leer in his eye as he turned it upon me, that I did not altogether like. I firmly believe the fellow thought I had contraband goods stowed away amongst that luggage of mine, and that thanks to him I had cheated Uncle Sam. I did nothing of the kind, though, perhaps, this made me feel all the more savage. I kept my aavageness to myself, however, and stepped into the twohorse carriage, having been informed by my departing guide, that "it belonged to the Occidental;" but it just occurred to me soon after that he lied. I was joined by four companions in the conveyance, and these companions were third-c ass passengers. Third-class passengers going to this firstclass hotel! I knew I was in a land of anomalies, but here was an anomaly with a vengeance. There must surely be something wrong, something requiring" expla'ation. " Is this the Occidental Coach?" I asked of the driver." " I guess you're all right," was the reply, as he drove on. AH right, indeed ! How could it be all right, when these un-. shaven, unkempt, unwashed tbird-ebsis passengers, who made the carriage noisome with the smell of clothes unremoved. ft t, m%ny a day, were travelling along in thiswhice satin lined carriage, and- going to the Occidental Hotel?. As L have just said, I, was prepared for many strange things,, but the strangeness of, this kept me thinking for some time. At length I bethought me of asking my companions their destination ; but the answer I received was vague. 1; am inclined to think that they resented that first look of astonishment, £ suppose my face wore, or that disinclination of mine, perhaps, to sit close by them. " They did not know the name of the hotel," that was he answer I got. I resigned myself to my fate, tolerably certain h was being done for somehow or another. Much to my re ief, we shortly stopped before a large Hock of buildings; the driver descended, teok off- my luggage, and is formed-me that this was the Occidental. Having deposited my things in the large flagged hall, he demanded his fare—two and a half dollars. The mystery was explained. " Fare," I exclaimed ;. " the hotel cara bring up passengers free, don'tthey ?" " Yes," saidthe fellow, ''but this is not an hotel car." '•Not the Occidental coach? : Why, d——n it"—l swore in my. wrath, but if it is.a venial offence to do so upon any occasion, I fancy it was upon that —"you told me. it j was." " Never," said the scoundrel, and he looked me straightly, defiantlyin the face as he said so. I explained mattes to the book-keeper, sitting close by in his office, but the book-keeper rt commended; sue ta settle matters quietly. Through his intervention I got off by paying 6s instead of 10s I had been asked. Since then I have obtained a. more intimate acquaintance with the place, and with the habit 3of the people, and feel quite satisfied my friend the hook keepsr -was right in the advice he gave me ; for if the affair had gone into Court, I should have been worsted to a certainty. Tae Coachman, and that Job Trotter friend of hia would have sworn to order,

THE STREETS OF SAN FKA^■CIS(CO. Stretching away from one of the many wharves, down by the margin of the bay, away in a south-westerly direction for two miles or more, out towards those smooth, rounded sandhills, which iorm a marked characteristic oi the oity a:ad the city's subi urbs, runs Market street. Market street is

the main artery- of San" tVanciscoi It is not its most aristocratic street* nor does it contain as fine buildings as you find in some of the other thoroughfares ; neither is it the great centre of business; but it feeds all the streets off the city. From it they spring and havetheir being. To understand the ways of San Francisco ifc is necessary to understand, this thoroughfare in the first place—just as necessary as it is to understand the great artery which supplies the smaller veins of the body, if you want to have some knowledge of the circulation of the Hood. Let me : try if I can explain it. Starting from the ; wharf, you will find some two-and- ' thirty streets, branching off f ronrit on your left hand, the larger number being named first, second, and so on, up to Twenty-sixth street;. On your left hand, too, you will note many streets starting off from Market street, running away from it in al) possible directions, and for the most part up goodly ascents, such as Front Battery Somsome, Montgomery, Hearney, Geary, Dupont, Stockton, Powejl» and many others ; but st present I- shall confine myself to Market street. It is a wide street, the widest, pe'haps, in the whole city ; one which you could not stride ac oas in much. less than 200 average steps. The footpaths too are wide, and, like the footpaths of San Francisco' generally, made of wood, li is like the other footpaths of the city in this also, that it is very dilapidated. In the day time, by exercising due cantion a man may.'avoid getting himself into trouble; bat if he walks- along it in the dusk of theevening or darkness of the night, the chances are, that no-possible amount of caution will save him. For in many places the boards are un-nailed^ in others they are worn so very thin that a man of average weight, accustomed to plant his feet firmly under him on our own city pavement, will find one if not both his legs disappear below. Bnt even if he be fortunate enough to get clear of these difficulties, there are worse still in store for him. Here and there he will come across pitfalls—regular mantraps, in fact. Along Market street, or along other streets, he will come across places where there are no boards at all, for the boarding has been worn away-, leaving holes through which Daniel Lambert himself —nay, half a dozen Daniel Lamberts battened into one—could easily disappear. In this, as in many other things, the Americans are truly a long-suffering people. If Tuapeka, the Manuheiikia, or the Dunstan had pathways such as those you find in San Francisco, the Mayors and Corporations would be dai y chastised with whips of redhot wire j the local papers would rend them, the inhabitants stone them, in their rage and fury. Here, the civic functionaries are safe j like Gallio of old, the Press aud people care for none of these things. If a man falls intoone of these pitfalls, breaking his leg or Ira neck, as the case may be, what then ? Why, serve him right, that's all. He should have taken more care of himself. But there are pther things on these side-walks uot pleasant to encounter after dark. Patent swings, boxes of candles, of soap, of soft-goods, and boxes with nothing at all in, them, bags of potatoes, bundles of pressed hay, ploughs, harrows, patent reapers, threshing machines, buggies by the score,, and trunks innumerable; these, and more than these, lie alongside the pathway of Market street in thick confusion. You may/ knock your shin or your nose against any of: them, but if you do, grin and bear it, for no commiseration will you receive from anybody. A few days ago I wanted to pass from Montgomery into California street, but: for some time my doing so was impossible, for there, on the footway of this the principal thoroughfare of the city—a thoroughfare made up of great banking houses, wherein lie the offices of the principal merchants and of the large public companies, almcife atthe very door of the Merchants' Exchange itself, stood some two dozen bugg>e3 in the act of being sold by tvra loud-shouting, stentorian-voiced auctioneers. I mentioned my surprise to a merchant X mcc there amongst the crowd. " "Well," he said, " I guess it's a d d shame to blockup such a street as this ; but what cm you. do? Every one in San Francisco thinks Jie is entitled to use the footway* and street, too, in front of his business premises, and nobody/ ever thinks of disputing his right to do so."

Market street is not the " swell" street off San Francisco. Some of its buildings indeed are large elegant edifices ; bat the great majority strike you as looking mean and shabby-, the great width of the street causing then* perhaps to look meaner and shabbier than they realJy are. I have-no doubt it does its fair share of business, but it is wanting in the bustling activity yon meet with in its smaller neighbours. The fine buildings of Market street, are the very finest in the city. The Grand Hotel* for instance, is the finest Hotel in San Fraacisco; and Eancroft's Book Store, is the handsomest building of its kind I have ever seen. Then, too, in this street, you will find Treadwell's large, brick-built, machinery and farming implement store; alsov the Harpending Buildings, a block of warehouses having a frontage of .some 360 or 400 yards. The greater part of the stores, however, as I have just said, are not pretentious ; they are brown, dingy, and low-verandahed. Altogether there is a. careless slovenly look about this street which jars upon one. Like the footpaths, the middle of the street; is boarded too, and along the centre runs a» double set of rails for. the street cars. Theses street cars are an institution ■in the cifcy. Great big lumbering vehicles they are, not unlike railway carriages to. look at, with, large footboards in the front and back,, whereon the driver and conductor stand all day, long, and passengers may smoke theirpipes and. cigars. The rails, perhaps, are inconvenient, and .would make your Dunedin. drivers of coaches, of waggons, and of private traps thunder out great big oaths ; but here private interests must give way to the public good, and, in truth, these street cara are a public good. There ara severs street car companies in the city altogether, and for a quarter of a dollar conductor will give you a long narrow slip red card, bearing the company's name, and marked 1, 2, 3, 4. ; With this in your pockefc you can ..travel through tho city and its suburbs in any direction you please, and to any distance from, one hundred yd/da to four miles. With this one card you can make four such trips ;. each trip thus costing yon 3d. The. first trip you make No. 4is nipped off the card w;th an instrument not unlike a bullet-mould, containing a small locked box. into which the piece of card falls, remaining there until opened at night.by the managers of the several companies, who exchange the pieces of cards with each other and then settle their accounts. But with this the traveller has nothing to do. He cart, take a ticket in a " North Beach " car, for instance ; and this same ticket, for instance, enables,him to travel by the "Front Street Mission Car," by the " Market Street," the " Potoero and Bay View," or any other he chooses to sco by.

The houses of Market street, and the same mijy be said of the nouses of the city generally, are painted a,dingy brown colour, or if they have not been so painted, this ia the colour they hava come to wear. This dingy brown, indeed, is the natural colour of Saa Francisco, for San Francisco's normal condition is sand,. Wherever you go it is thick around you oa every side, and wherever it obtains a lodgement, produces, a goodly crop. The quantity you see in the unoccupied sections along the street is something to stare, and wonder at ; and out towards the suburbs you have, in places, to plough through it; ankle, deep. If, at mid-day, you open your, window but ever so little, insidiously it works its way through, sett ing on yourself, your table, the book you are reading, the paper you are writing on. It takes away: irom the grass and from the trees the. pride | and glory of their colouring. There is no freshness, no, richness, no greenness to be seen in them., unless, indeed, the hose has been brought to bear upon them morning and evening. I know, from experience, that I this is sometimes done. Once I swore, until I wa.9 black in %he face, at a Chinese imp, who brought, his hose to bear upon me inßtsac£ of the tree, and then grinned, forcibly at the exploit* ■'"'"'