Bancroft's Tourist's Guide. Yosemite. San Francisco and around the Bay, (South.)

SAN FRANCISCO. Historical.

The site of what is now the city of San Francisco was first permanently occupied by white men, September 17, 1776. The same year witnessed the entrenchment of a garrison and the establishment of a Mission.

San Francisco owes its origin to Catholic missionaries and Spanish soldiers. Father Junipero Serra led the missionaries—and virtually commanded the soldiers. The name San Francisco was given in honor of Saint Francis of Asisis, a city of Italy, the founder of the order of Franciscans to which Father Junipero belonged. The presidio, garrison or fort, was founded first, Sept. 17, and the mission about three weeks later, Oct. 9th. The site first chosen was near a small lagoon back of, that is, west of, what is now called Russian Hill, but the prevailing winds proved so high and bitter as to compel its early removal to the more sheltered spot, over a mile south, under the lee of high hills, and near the present Mission Creek. Here, at the head of what is now Center or Sixteenth Street, the old church still stands.

For nearly sixty years the mission stood, the nucleus of a little village of rude adobe houses, tenanted by a fluctuating population of Indians, Mexicans and Spanish—and the center of a military and religious authority, which upon more than one occasion made itself felt and feared for leagues around. The population rarely rose above four hundred and frequently fell to less than a hundred and fifty.

In 1835, Capt. W.A. Richardson put up the first pioneer dwelling, with rude wooden walls and sail-cloth roof. On the fourth of July of the next year, 1836, Jacob P. Leese finished the first frame house. This house stood where the St. Francis Hotel now stands,—on the southwest corner of Clay and Dupont streets, a single block west of the present City Hall. Leese had his store on the beach, which was where Montgomery and Commercial streets now intersect. Nearly seven solid blocks of made-land now stretch between where that old beach lay and the present water front. Other houses soon rose near that of Leese, and presently the villagers saw their little settlement fast approaching the dignity of a new town, and cast about to find a name. Nature caused it to spring out of the ground for them in the form of a species of aromatic mint, which, surrounding their dwellings, perfuming the morning air and supplying frequent and varied medicinal needs, had proved indeed, as the Spaniards called it, "Yerba Buena," the Good Herb. So the herb named the town, and the name "stuck" as the Californians say, for nearly a dozen years. During these years the houses grew in number, until 1847, when the town contained seventy-nine buildings,—thirty-one frame, twenty-six adobe, and the rest shanties—and these houses sheltered three hundred souls, or, at least, that number of bodies. On the 30th of January of that year, these three hundred dropped the old name Yerba Buena, and adopted the older one, which had belonged to the neighboring mission for nearly fourscore years. Thus the town also became San Francisco, and has ever since so remained. The first steamboat appeared in the bay, November 15th of the same year. In March, 1848, the houses had grown to two hundred, and the population to eight hundred and fifty. On the third of the next month, the first public school began.

New Year's Day, '49, the new city claimed a population of two thousand. Three days later the two previously published weekly papers merged into the Alta California, the earliest established of all newspapers now existing in the State.

The early miners were making from twenty to thirty dollars a day, getting "bags" of dust and "piles" of nuggets, and rushing down to "Frisco" to gamble it away. These were the "flush times" of the new city. Fresh eggs cost from seventy-five cents to one dollar apiece. For a beefsteak and a cup of coffee for breakfast one had to pay a dollar and a half, and a dinner cost him from two to ten or even twenty dollars, according to appetite and drinketite. Rough labor brought the old Congressional pay of eight dollars a day; draymen earned twenty dollars a day; and family "help" could hardly be had for forty, or even fifty, dollars a week. The great mass of the men lived in tents. Very few women had come, but those few were overwhelmed with attention; if one wished to cross the street in the rainy season, a score of brawny arms would fight for the privilege of gallantly wading through the sea of mud to carry her across the unpaved street.

Great fires came, four of them; the first the day before Christmas, '49—it burned over a million dollars worth; the second, May 4th, '50—it destroyed three millions dollars worth. A little over a month later, June 14th, 1850, the most destructive fire the city ever saw left it poorer by four millions of dollars; and on the 17th of the next September the fourth fire consumed another half million. Nearly nine million dollars worth burned in less than nine months!

Business thrived immensely. In 1852, more than seven vessels a day arrived at or departed from San Francisco. Commerce overdid itself. Long piers ran out over the flats where now solid blocks of lofty buildings have stood for half a score of years. Sometimes storms kept back the clippers; then prices went still higher. Between March and November, flour went up from eight to forty dollars a barrel, while the "Alta" came down from its usual broad and sightly page to the size of a pane of window-glass, fourteen by ten. Villainy flourished; drinking, gambling, robbery and murder held high carnival; the law did little, and did that little shabbily and tardily; so the people woke and resumed their original legislative, judicial, and especially their executive, functions.

In '51 and '52, and again in '56, they came nobly to the front, hung the worst villains who defied the common law, frightened away the others, restored order, established security for honest men, and resolved themselves again into law-abiding citizens. And thus, through perils of fire, social convulsions, and financial fluctuation, the cosmopolitan city has swept swiftly on until to-day, though having barely attained her majority, she stands in the first half-score of American cities. Every year she leaves a city or two behind in her steady progress toward the throne of the continent which she will surely occupy before the present century has fully fled.

Situation and Extent.

In extent, population, commerce, wealth and the growth, San Francisco of to-day is not only the chief city of California, but the great commercial metropolis of the whole Pacific slope. It is both a city and a county; the county occupies the extreme end of a hilly peninsula stretching north to the Golden Gate, between the Pacific Ocean on the west, and San Francisco bay on the east.

The whole peninsula has a length of from thirty-five to forty miles, with an average width of from twelve to fifteen miles. The average width of the county from bay to ocean is four and one half miles, and its extreme length, from the Golden Gate on the north, to the San Mateo County line on the south, is six miles and a half. Its boundary line being the natural one of a coast or shore on the west, north and east, is more or less irregular; on the south it is straight. Its entire area is 26,681 acres, including the Presidio reservation of 1,500 acres, which belongs to the general government.

The county also includes the Farallon Islands, lying nearly thirty miles west in the Pacific Ocean, with the islands of Alcatraz and Yerba Buena, or Goat Island, in San Francisco bay.

The city proper occupies the northeast corner of the county. Its limits extend about two miles and a half from east to west, by three and a half from north to south, thus including between one fifth and one sixth the area of the county.

The natural surface was very uneven and the soil equally varied—sand beach, salt marsh, mud flats, low plains, narrow ravines, small and shallow valleys, elevated benches or plateaux, sandy knolls and dunes, and stretches of the close, adobe soil, made up its original surface; while rocky bluffs fortified its shore line, and extensive ledges underlaid its hills or cropped out from their sides, or crowned their tops. These hills varied in height from two hundred and sixty to four hundred and ten feet, while west and south of the city limits they rose still higher. One or two small lagoons lay sluggishly about, and as many small streams found their way thence to the bay.

The original founders of the city, as is usual in similar cases, seemed never to suspect that they were moulding the beginnings of a grand metropolis. Hence they laid out what little they did project with the least possible regard to present symmetry, or the probable demands of future growth. The natural inequalities of surface, the grade and width of streets which must become necessary to a large city, reservations for public buildings, promenades, gardens, parks, etc., with the sanitary necessity of thorough drainage, were matters of which they seem to have been serenely unconscious, or, worse still, sublimely indifferent. And many of their immediate successors in authority were legitimate descendants, or humbly imitative followers.

We have not an important street in the city which conforms its course to the cardinal points of the compass, and but one main avenue, Market street, which begins to be wide enough. As Cronise truthfully says: "The whole town stands askew."

We now proceed to "orient" the tourist, as Horace Mann used to say, in regard to such streets, avenues, thoroughfares, cuts, parks, etc., as mainly constitute the highly artificial, though not particularly ornamental, topography of our little occidental village.

General Plan.

Market street is the widest and the longest, starting at the water front, half a mile east of the old City Hall, and slightly ascending through eight or nine blocks, it runs thence southwesterly on a nearly level grade beyond the city limits. Its western end is yet unfinished. A mile and a half from the water it cuts through a moderately high and immoderately rocky hill, beyond which it stretches away toward the unfenced freedom of the higher hills, and the dead level of the western beach beyond, at which it will probably condescend ultimately to stop. Its surface presents every variety of natural conformation ingeniously varied with artificial distortion. Plank, rubble, McAdam, cobble, Nicolson, gravel, Stow foundation, gravel, adobe, sand, and finally undisguised dirt, offer their pleasing variety to the exploring eye. From two to four horse-railroad tracks diversify its surface with their restful regularity, while the steam cars from San JosÉ follow their locomotive a short distance up its western end.

Stately blocks, grand hotels, massive stores, lofty factories, tumble-down shanties, unoccupied lots and vacant sand-hills form its picturesque boundary on either hand. When the high summer winds sweep easterly down its broad avenue, laden with clouds of flying sand from vacant lots along its either margin, it becomes a decidedly open question whether the lots aforesaid really belong in the department of real estate, or should, properly enter the catalogue of "movable property."

We have dwelt thus at length upon this street, not only on account of its central position and superior dimensions, but because it is a representative street. Others are like it as far as they can be. They would resemble it still more closely, did length, width and direction permit. It is fast becoming the great business street of the city, and, spite of the roughness and crudeness necessarily attaching to all the streets of a new and fast-growing city, it unmistakably possesses all the requisites of the future "Grand Avenue" of the Pacific metropolis.

On the northeast of Market street, through the older portion of the city, the streets run at right angles with each other, though neither at right angles or parallel with Market. One set runs, in straight lines, nearly north and south. The other set, also straight, crosses the former at right angles, that is, running nearly east and west. The principal of these streets, as one goes from the bay westerly, back toward the hills, and, in fact, some distance up their slopes, are Front, Battery, Sansome, Montgomery, Kearny, Dupont, Stockton, Powell, Mason, Taylor, and a dozen others, of which those nearer the bay are gradually growing into importance as business streets, especially along the more level portions of their southern blocks, near where they run into Market street. Beyond these, that is, west of them, the streets are chiefly occupied by dwelling houses, among which are many expensive residences of the most modern construction and elegant design.

Between Front street and the bay run two shorter streets, Davis and Drumm, along which, as well as upon the northern part of Front street, are several of the principal wharves, piers, docks and steamboat landings.

At right angles with these streets, running back at an acute angle from Market street, and at a right angle with the water front as well as the streets already named, are Geary, Post, Sutter, Bush, Pine, California, Sacramento, Clay, Washington, Jackson, Pacific, Broadway, with a dozen or more others still further north, and a score or so south.

Along the eastern blocks of these streets, that is, within five or six squares of the water, stand many of the leading business houses, hotels, newspaper offices, etc.

A sufficient variety of pavement diversifies the surface of all these streets—from the primitive, original and everlasting cobble, destroyer of quiet, destruction to wheels and death on horses, to the smooth-rolling Nicolson and the beautifully level Stow foundation, blessed bane of all the above abominations, and not a specially bad thing for the contractors. The sidewalks generally have a liberal breadth. They are commonly covered with plank, asphaltum or brick, and, near the corners and in front of the numerous rum-holes, with gangs of bilks or crowds of loafers, who have only, as Sydney Smith once said of a certain vestry in London, to lay their heads together to make a first-class wooden pavement.

South of Market street, that is, in the newer and more rapidly growing portion of the city, the streets were laid out under a new survey, and, of course, have an angle and direction of their own. One set runs parallel with Market, that is, nearly southwest and northeast. Their names, in receding order from Market, are Mission, Howard, Folsom, Harrison, Bryant, Brannan, etc. These streets are generally wider than those of the older, northern part. Southeast of them are seven or eight parallel streets, gradually growing shorter as they come nearer the Mission Bay, ending in South street, less than a block and a half long, lying along the water front. The lower or eastern ends of nearly all these streets run down to piers and wharves, upon which are the leading lumber and coal yards of the city, the largest hay and grain barns and sheds, and the immense docks of the great Pacific Mail Steamship Company. Nearly two miles back from the water front all these streets "swing around the circle" far enough to bring them into an exactly north and south line, and creep southward down the peninsula, a block or two farther south every season.

The streets running at right angles with Market street, beginning at the water front and reckoning back southwesterly, are named by their numbers, First, Second, etc., up to Thirtieth, and even beyond. Between First street and the present water front, some six or seven blocks have been filled in and are occupied chiefly by gas works, lumber yards and large manufactories. The new streets thus formed are named, in receding order from First street, Fremont, Beale, Main, Spear, Stuart and East. To reduce blocks to miles, one has only to know that in the older part of the city the blocks, reckoning east and west, number twelve to the mile, including the streets between. From north to south they are shorter, numbering sixteen to the mile. South of Market street the blocks are about one seventh of a mile long from east to west, and one ninth of a mile wide. In both the older and newer parts of the city, the regular standard blocks are frequently subdivided by one, and sometimes two, smaller streets, running through them each way. Near the city front, the first six blocks, reckoning back from the water, have from one half to two thirds the standard size. Bearing these dimensions in mind, one can readily reduce blocks to miles, and calculate distance and time accordingly.

Approaches to the City.

From only one direction can the traveler approach the city by land; that is, by coming up from the south, through San JosÉ and the intervening places. From every other direction one approaches by water. Between Sacramento and San Francisco there are two principal routes by rail. The first brings the tourist to Vallejo, sixty miles, and thence twenty-three miles by boat, making a total of eighty-three miles, over the shortest and quickest route. Time, four hours and a half, fare, $3.00.

Approaching by this route, he comes down upon the city from the northeast. On the left, the San Pablo, Berkeley, Oakland and Alameda shores, rising gently back into broad plains, whose further edges fringe the feet of the back-lying hills. Beyond the hills, Mount Diablo. On the larboard bow, as the sailors say, that is, a little southwest, rises Goat Island, or Yerba Buena, three hundred and forty feet. This island looks "very like a whale," and in outline seems a very monster among leviathans at that.

Directly south the waters of the bay stretch so far that one can seldom discern the shore line, and may easily fancy himself looking out to sea in that direction. Further round to the right, that is, more westerly, he may catch a glimpse of Hunter's Point with the chimney and engine house of the Dry Dock. Nearer lies the Potrero, with the suburban city fast creeping up the sides, and crowning the summit of its rocky promontory. From the beach, at its nearest base, stretch out the piers and rise the grimy buildings of the Pacific Rolling Mills. Still nearer you see the south end of the long bridge, stretching southerly across Mission Bay, and connecting the Potrero with the city. In a line with the further end of this bridge, and a mile or more nearer, we have the piers and sheds of the Pacific Mail Steamship Company, with the immense ships of their China line, the largest wooden vessels afloat. The steep slope just to the right of them, on which you see the upper stories of a large brick building, is Rincon Hill, and the building is the U.S. Marine Hospital. That monument, as it seems, is the Shot Tower, while in front of, around and beyond it, you see the usual medley of ordinary city buildings, here and there rising into single or double church spires, broken by the bulk of some big business block, and relieved by the regular lines of intersecting streets.

Right of Rincon Hill, where the city fills a broad hollow, you are looking over what was once the "Happy Valley" of early times. In a line beyond it lies the Mission, which you cannot now discover, backed by the "Twin Peaks," and the high hills which form the back-bone of the peninsula. Still following around, the larger buildings of the older city meet the eye, gradually rising up the southern slope. Those singular minarets or mosque-like twin towers or spires, surmount the Jewish Synagogue. Here and there a church spire shoots above the roofs, but one sees fewer of them than in eastern cities of equal size, because the possibility of earthquakes, and the certainty of high winds, restrain architects and builders from attempting anything too lofty or exposed. Several of the finest churches in the city, spread out on the earth much more than they rise toward heaven. One reason may be that they do not own far in the latter direction.

North of the Synagogue towers, the hill still rises through three blocks, when it reaches its full height in California street hill. Then a slight depression in the hill-top outline, followed by another rise into the Clay street and Washington street hill, two blocks north and three blocks west of the former.

The higher hill still further north but nearer the front, is the famous land-mark and signal-station, Telegraph Hill, from whose top the long familiar observatory has but recently disappeared; prostrated on a stormy night last winter, by one of the giant winds whose fury it had so long defied.

Beyond, or to the right of Telegraph hill, the city falls away to the northwest, and the bay shore also trends in that direction. Black Point, the Presidio, and finally Fort Point, bring us to the Golden Gate.

Unfolding to empire its way,

Wide opened by gold and by fate,

Swung by tides which no nation can stay,

Here standeth the continent's gate.

Through the narrow Gate one has a single glimpse of the grand old sea, which stretches so peacefully away under the sunset. For northern gate-post you have Lime Point; and thence the vision rests on high hills packed in behind, and gradually lifting the gaze to Mount Tamalpais, beyond whose sharply-cut summit, nothing of note attracts the sight. Between us and Tamalpais, four miles nearer and half a mile lower, close at the water's edge, we have the small but beautifully situated town of Saucelito, with its sheltered picnic grounds and tranquil bay. Beyond the Saucelito bay you can almost see through Raccoon Strait, and discover that the higher land nearer the boat is not a point, but an island. Its name is Angel Island. It is the largest and most valuable island in the bay. The Government owns it and occupies its southwestern side with barracks, garrison and parade grounds. Several batteries dot the shore at different points, and a military road around the island, connects them with the garrison.

This other small island of solid rock, crowned with a heavy fortress and girt with forts and batteries, is Alcatraz, the Pacific Gibraltar.

Instead of coming by way of Vallejo, the passenger from Sacramento may come by rail through Stockton, forty-eight miles; thence by rail to Oakland, eighty-six miles; and thence by boat to San Francisco, four miles; making a total distance of one hundred and thirty-eight miles, all rail except the last four. Through fare, $2.50.

By this route you approach the city on the east, and have only to change the point of sight from northeast to east, and remember that Goat Island will be seen close by on the right hand, that is, north of the boat, to make the description of the approach from Vallejo almost equally accurate and easily adaptable for the approach from Oakland, which is the direction from which the great majority approach.

Those who may prefer can have their choice of a third way from Sacramento, and a second from Stockton; that is by steamer, usually leaving each of those cities at noon, and due in San Francisco in eight hours. From Sacramento by water the distance is one hundred and twenty-five miles, and the fare, $1.50; from Stockton, one hundred and twenty miles, fare, $1.50; dinner on board, $1.00; staterooms, $2.00, single berths, $1.00. These boats reach San Francisco so early one seldom needs a stateroom, except in case of illness, or a strong desire for seclusion. Both lines of steamers land at the same pier, at the foot of Broadway, from ten to twelve blocks from the leading first-class hotels.

The only important route of approaching San Francisco, and riding into the city by land, lies on the south, coming from Gilroy, San JosÉ, Santa Clara, Redwood City, and intermediate places, in the cars of the Southern Pacific railroad. Coming in by this route, one traverses the fertile plains of the Santa Clara Valley, and skirts the foot-hills lying along the western base of the almost mountains, which form the divide between the bay slope and the ocean slope of the broad peninsula. Near Redwood City, and for the succeeding fifteen miles, the track runs between fresh water fields on the west and salt water marsh upon the east. From the Twelve-Mile Farm in, we strike nearer the centre of the constantly narrowing peninsula, and near San Miguel catch the first glimpse of the broad Pacific. The large building just west of the track is the Industrial School, our California House of Reformation. The southern suburbs of the city, through which we enter, present nothing remarkable beyond the usual medley of old shanties, broad vegetable gardens, pleasant, home-like cottages, and here and there the more pretentious suburban residence, increasing in number as we come nearer the centre.

We come in by Valencia street, and reach the station upon Market, just east of its junction with Valencia.

Ocean Approach.

Besides the approaches already mentioned, one may come in from Panama, Mexico, Oregon, the Sandwich Islands, Australia, Japan or China. From whichever he may come, for the last ten miles before reaching the dock, his track will be the same. A few miles west of Fort Point, all these various ocean routes converge into one, enter San Francisco Bay by the Golden Gate, and bear away southward until they intersect, and for a short distance coincide with, the approach from Vallejo, already briefly described.

Conveyances.

Hacks.—Approaching the wharf or the railroad station, you encounter the usual jargon of hotel and baggage runners, each shouting his hotel, hack or coach, as if strength of lungs was his chief stock in trade. It is but simple justice to San Francisco hackmen, however, to say that a more obliging, prompt, and courteous set, can hardly be found in any American city of equal size. That travelers may exactly understand for themselves the law regulating hacks and coaches, we quote order No. 718, of the Board of Supervisors of the city and county of San Francisco:

Section 7. "For a hackney carriage drawn by more than one horse, for one person, not exceeding one mile, $1.50, and for more than one person, not exceeding one mile, $2.50; and for each additional mile, for each passenger, 50 cents. For a hackney carriage drawn by one horse, for one person, not exceeding one mile, $1.00; for more than one person, not exceeding one mile, $1.50; for each passenger, for each additional mile, 25 cents."

Sec. 8. "From any landing of any steamboat, to any point east of the west line of Larkin street, and north of the south line of Brannan street, and east of Third street, shall, in all cases, be estimated not to exceed one mile."

In forty-nine cases out of fifty, no newly-arrived gentleman or lady will have any personal need to know the law; the foregoing is written mainly for the fiftieth. Bear in mind that these rates, like all fares and charges in the Golden State, are payable in gold or its equivalent coin; also, that they are the highest. Hackmen often carry for less.

Coaches.—Besides the hacks, one may find hotel coaches, which carry free to the hotel for which they run, or charge fifty cents for each passenger within the limits above specified.

Cars.—The red cars of the City Front line pass the head of the dock every five minutes. These carry one to the very door of the "Cosmopolitan," and "Occidental" Hotels, within one block of the "Lick House," and two blocks of the "Grand Hotel." Directly across the street from the pier of the Sacramento and Stockton steamers, half a block from the landing for passengers by rail, and one block from the landing of those coming by Vallejo, the green cars of the Sutter street line carry one directly by the "Cosmopolitan," the "Lick House," and the "Occidental," and within half a block of the "Grand." On both these lines the rate is ten cents coin for a single fare, or twenty-five cents for a coupon ticket good for four rides.

Wagons.—At or near any landing, one can always find numbered express wagons, waiting to carry baggage for from 50 cents to $1.00, according to bulk, weight, or distance.

Porters.—Black, white and yellow, will serve you for "two bits," that is 25 cents, for carrying any reasonable package within reasonable distance. It is well, however, to keep your eye on porter and package.

Baggage and Package Expresses.—Half an hour or more before reaching the city, either by car or boat, agents of the above companies will take your checks and your money, give you a receipt for both, and deliver your baggage, for 25 cents for each ordinary-sized trunk or valise, at any place within the single-fare limits already given. These are reliable and responsible companies, whose agents none need fear to trust. They deliver baggage promptly and in as good condition as received.

Hotels.

The foreign tourist can witness to the great lack of really fine hotels abroad. All England hardly furnishes a single hotel to rank with the best of our second-class hotels in America. Outside of Boston, New York, Philadelphia, Chicago, St. Louis, and Cincinnati, few, even of the northern cities, present any notable hotel attractions to the temporary guest. New Orleans has a single good hotel, but hardly one of the other southern cities has yet outgrown the old-fashioned "tavern."

In respect to these—in good hotels—by the immediate and unanimous verdict of every tourist, San Francisco stands preËminent. Nowhere on the continent can the traveler find beds, tables and rooms superior to those of the "Grand," the "Occidental," the "Cosmopolitan," and the "Lick House," and in no large city of America will he find as reasonable charges, considering the amount and quality of accommodation and the style of service rendered.

The usual standard rate at the four leading first-class houses, is $3.00 a day, for board and room. At the "Brooklyn," "Russ," and "American Exchange," the rates are $2.00 to $2.50 a day, for good rooms and equally good board.

The Grand Hotel.—This magnificent hotel is the newest of all. It stands on the south side of Market street, occupying the whole block from New Montgomery to Second street, and stretching southward along new Montgomery, across Stevenson street to Jessie. Its north front is 205 feet, its west front 335 feet, thus covering over one acre and a half of ground. Its height is three stories, surmounted by a Mansard roof, containing a fourth. Its style of architecture may be called the "modern combination," highly ornamented. In method of construction, it is a complete frame building, surrounded by brick walls of unusual thickness. Its four hundred rooms include chambers, parlors and suits of the amplest dimensions and the richest furnishing. The halls, corridors and stairways are spacious and airy. Through all the halls, at intervals of every few feet, hang coils of fire-hose, each attached to full hydrants, and always ready for instant use. Bath-rooms and toilets abound. Barber-shop, billiard room, and the most elegantly frescoed bar-room upon the coast, occupy the most convenient portions of the basement and first floor. An amply-supplied reading-room, with most luxurious chairs, invites and detains all weary guests. Branch offices of the leading telegraphs, postal delivery box, and all needed facilities for correspondence, are at hand. Hacks stand constantly at the three spacious entrances, and four leading lines of horse-cars radiate thence to every portion of the city and suburbs.

The dining-hall accommodates three hundred. Its tables are of moderate size, surrounded by plenty of room, loaded with abundant "substantials," flanked with all the latest delicacies, and served in the most attentive manner. Breakfast rooms for private parties, and separate eating-rooms for servants and children, immediately adjoin the main dining-hall. A large and well-appointed laundry promptly accommodates guests.

If there's anything else imaginable in the whole list of first-class hotel accommodations, just mention it to your obliging host Johnson, or his courteous and efficient adjutant, Ridgeway, and it shall go hard but they will furnish it for you at once, if it is to be had within the limits of telegraph and express.

The Occidental.—This popular standard house stands upon the east side of Montgomery; its west front occupies the whole block from Bush street to Sutter; stretches its north flank half a block down Bush street, while its south flank goes a hundred and sixty-seven feet down Sutter street. Vertically it rises six stories into the sunshine. Four hundred and twelve elegant single and double rooms, with numerous suits having ample bathing and other accommodations, besides ladies' parlors, dining-halls, billiard-hall, convenient offices, broad stairways, spacious halls, and roomy passages, make up this truly magnificent mammoth establishment. The carpets and furniture are of the most elegant and costly description. A large and beautifully-fitted patent safety elevator adjoins the grand staircase near the main hall, and reading-room at the Montgomery street entrance.

Near the main entrance is a telegraph-office—hacks stand always in front, and four leading lines of horse-cars pass the three entrances. A newspaper and periodical stand, with post-office letter-box, complete the conveniences of the reading-room.

The walls are braced with iron, and securely anchored, besides being connected across the building by heavy iron ties on every story. Manager, Philip McShane.

Cosmopolitan Hotel.—This worthy compeer of the two already described, occupies the southwest corner of Bush and Sansome streets. Centrally-located, elegantly-constructed, conveniently-arranged, and well-furnished, this house is one of the largest and newest first-class hotels. An extensive addition, including some scores of single and double rooms, richly furnished in the most modern style, sufficiently indicate its prosperity. Tubbs & Patten, managers.

Lick House.—West side of Montgomery, between Sutter and Post streets. Its east front occupies the entire block between these two streets, and runs up between one and two hundred feet of each of them. Whilst this house is excellently finished and furnished throughout, it is especially celebrated for its elegant dining-hall, which is probably more artistically-planned and exquisitely-finished than any public dining-hall in the world. Jno. M. Lawlor & Co., managers.

Brooklyn Hotel.—Next to the elegant hotels already named, one may reckon the "Brooklyn"—on Bush street, north side, between Montgomery and Sansome. This excellent house makes a specialty of accommodating families, having an unusually large number of suits of rooms especially designed for their comfort. Its rates are about two thirds of those before mentioned. Hotel coaches convey all guests to the house free of charge. Messrs. Kelly & Wood, proprietors.

Besides the "Brooklyn," the traveler not wishing to stop at any of the grander and dearer houses, may have his choice of the "Russ House," west side of Montgomery, from Sutter to Pine, Messrs. Pearson & Seymour, proprietors; the "American Exchange," Sansome street, west side, corner of Halleck, Timothy Sargent, proprietor; the "Morton House," formerly Orleans Hotel, 117 Post street, south side, just above Kearny; and the "International Hotel," Weygant & Partridge, 530-534 Jackson street, north side, just below Kearny.

European Plan.—One fond of this style, may suit himself at Gailhard's Hotel, Nos. 507 and 509 Pine street, Pereira & Co., proprietors. "What Cheer House"—This famous hotel combines the lodging-house and restaurant under one roof, with a success of which no old Californian needs be told. Besides the usual reading-room, it has also an extensive library and museum, free to all guests; R.B. Woodward, proprietor, 525-529 Sacramento street.

Lodging Houses.

Among these we name the "Nucleus" and the "Clarendon" as equal to the best. The "Nucleus" stands on the southeast corner of Third and Market streets; David Stern, proprietor. The "Clarendon House," John M. Ward, manager, 574 Folsom street, northwest corner of Second, is new and central.

Restaurants.

Whether a man eats to live or lives to eat, he can readily suit himself here. At present rates, the traveler can get better food, greater variety, and more of it for the same money, than in any eastern city. Among the best restaurants, are Saulmann's, 520 California street, north side, between Montgomery and Kearny; Swain's Family Bakery and Restaurant, 636 Market, north side, between Montgomery and Kearny; Martin's, Commercial street; Job's, 327 Kearny; and Lermitte's Coffee Saloon, 530 Merchant street.

Baths.

The hotels usually furnish first-class facilities without the trouble of going out from under the roof. Should anyone, however, wish a more extended application of fresh or salt water, hot or cold, vapor or steam, Turkish, Russian or Roman, he has come to the very place where they have them even better than in their original countries. If you doubt it, ask Bayard Taylor.

Zeile's Baths, at 527 Pacific street, north side, between Montgomery and Kearny, furnish more natural facilities and improved artificial appliances for the scientific application of Russian, Turkish, and Roman baths, than any other establishment in Europe or America. The visitor will be surprised at the extent and completeness of every appointment in Dr. Zeile's establishment.

Places of Amusement.

No matter how busy you may be at home, you are here for enjoyment. When evening comes you want a good lecture, concert or play. We have them all—the first occasionally, the last two regularly. The newest, largest and finest play house is the

California Theater, on the north side of Bush street between Kearny and Dupont: John McCullough, lessee and manager. If there's a good play in the city, we generally find it here; if there are comfortable chairs and luxurious boxes anywhere, they are certainly here; and if there's an artist of good taste and a successful manager combined in one man, his name is John McCullough. The theater is new and spacious, having comfortable seats for over three thousand, one of the largest stages in the United States, with complete mechanical appliances, and finely-painted scenery and drop-curtain.

Metropolitan Theater.—Montgomery street, north side, between Washington and Jackson. Occasionally occupied for transient engagements, often presenting excellent plays. Has fine acoustic properties; seats two thousand.

Alhambra, 325 Bush street. This is a snug and tasty combination of theater, minstrels and opera house, usually presenting some popular and spicy blending of wit, art and song.

Maguire's Opera House.—Washington street, north side, between Montgomery and Kearny; Thomas Maguire, proprietor. This is the famous old theater in which Forrest, Kean and Booth delighted the California audiences of earlier days.

Chinese Theater.—At No. 630 Jackson street the curious visitor may witness the most curious medley ever put upon a stage and called a play. An interminable and unintelligible jargon of ding-dong, clatter-clatter, tum-tum and rattle-rattle-rattle combined with falsetto screeches, wonderful gymnastics, graceful contortions, terrific sword combats, and strange old oriental masqueradings, is what you may see in the celestial play house. Half an hour of it will fully satisfy you; but every eastern visitor must needs endure at least so much.

Museums—Woodward's.—At Woodward's Gardens, Mission street, between Thirteenth and Fourteenth. This contains over ten thousand specimens of zoology, ornithology, Indian relics, alcoholic collections, natural curiosities, ancient coins, etc., besides a beautifully arranged and finely lighted art gallery, including several rare old pictures, and a sort of floral museum in the shape of a charming conservatory, wherein fragrance vies with beauty to delight and detain.

Melodeons, Dance Halls, Beer Cellars.—We hardly anticipate that the average tourist will care to be "guided" into places under this heading, but the philosophic student of human nature, as well as the curious observer of social customs, cannot consider his knowledge of any city complete until he has personally seen and actually known, not only the highest, but the lowest, amusements extensively patronized by its people. Like all other large cities, San Francisco has its share of low haunts in which really modest, and sometimes meritorious, performances blend with a much larger proportion of immodest, meretricious and disgraceful ones.

Halls.

Platt's Hall.—216 Montgomery, east side, just north of Bush street, is one of the most popular in the city. Popular concerts, literary lectures, religious anniversaries, educational celebrations, magical entertainments, military balls and social dances, succeed each other so rapidly that there are few nights, especially in the pleasure season, when Platt's Hall does not offer something worth going to see. Henry B. Platt, proprietor.

Union Hall.—South side of Howard, near Third. This is the largest permanent hall in the city, and a grand place for unusually large social parties, exhibitions, political conventions and popular mass meetings. It easily accommodates upwards of three thousand.

Pacific Hall.—In the California Theater building, north side of Bush, just above Kearny. This is a centrally-located, tastefully-finished double hall, that is, two connected so as to be used singly or jointly according to need. Capacity, fifteen hundred.

Mercantile Library Hall.—In the basement of the Mercantile Library Association Building, north side of Bush street, between Montgomery and Sansome. Elegantly finished in pure white, with paneled and ornamented walls and ceilings. Accommodates eight hundred. The closeness of the neighboring buildings gives it a bad light by day, but no hall in the city lights up more brilliantly at night.

Mechanics' Institute Hall.—Upon the lower floor of the building of that association, south side of Post street, between Montgomery and Kearny. This is another newly-constructed, conveniently-planned, well-furnished and centrally-located hall, with a medium capacity of about six hundred.

Y.M.C.A. Hall.—Young Men's Christian Association building, north side of Sutter, just west of Kearny. A remarkably neat, well-proportioned, lofty and well-ventilated hall, having its capacity largely increased by a conveniently-sloping gallery stretching across the whole of one side, and throwing forward its flanks at either end. Capacity, six hundred and fifty.

Dashaway Hall.—Dashaway Society's building, south side of Post, between Kearny and Dupont. This singular name belongs to the pioneer temperance organization of the Pacific coast. Its origin can hardly be better stated than in the brief sentences of Tuthill, in his History of California: "A company of firemen, Howard No. 3, sitting in their engine house late at night, January 1st, 1859, celebrating New Year's after the custom of the country, fell to musing over their future prospects, and were vouchsafed a vision of their probable fate. At last they solemnly agreed to discontinue the use of intoxicating liquor, or, as they phrased it, to "dash away the cup." They accordingly organized a temperance society of "Dashaways," with Frank E.R. Whitney, chief engineer of the fire department of San Francisco, as their first President, pledging themselves to drink nothing intoxicating for five and one half months. They kept their promise, and liked it so well that, before reaching the limit of their self-imposed pledge, they renewed it for all time." Thus began the first temperance society of California, which has enrolled thousands of names, erected a fine building, founded a large library, and maintains weekly lectures to this day. In a country where wine is fast becoming a chief production, and whose greatest present danger is the social glass, the origin, efforts and success of the pioneer temperance organization merit more than passing notice.

Billiards.—Tournaments and champions of this king of in-door games compel brief mention of this popular amusement and the places where one may best enjoy it. Every leading hotel has a fine billiard room attached; those of the four first named are palatial in the elegance and richness of their finish and furniture.

Bowling Saloons and Shooting Galleries.—We set these together, not because of any particular affinity between the two, but because the city has hardly enough of either to make an item of one alone. At the southwest corner of Montgomery and Pine, the enthusiastic bowler may probably find as many pins as he can prostrate, with attendants who can set them up as fast as he can knock them down; while at 913 Kearny street, he can keep up his practice, if already an expert, or "get his hand in," if a novice, at

"Shooting folly as she flies."

Those wishing the longer range for rifle practice, find it at Hermann's, near the Presidio, that is, on one's way to Fort Point.

Gymnasiums.

Although nominally a christian land, California has yet many sturdy "musclemen" within her borders, while her larger cities have several schools of various kinds, for the training of young disciples in "muscular christianity."

Chief among these in San Francisco, stands the Olympic Club, the largest physical culture club in the State. Founded in 1860, during its eleven years of ceaseless and increasing activity, over five thousand persons have availed themselves of its admirable facilities for acquiring or perfecting one's ability to "travel on his muscle." It is by no means an association of boys, or of young men only; some of the best known gray-beard pioneers, with many of the leading merchants and professional men, have enthusiastically enjoyed their daily "play-spell" within its walls for many years, and they do it still. At 35 Sutter street, south side, just below Montgomery, one may find their spacious and lofty hall, amply supplied with all the paraphernalia of modern gymnastics, and adorned with several large paintings in oil, by prominent artists who are also Olympics, besides the photographs of past and present leading members.

The San Francisco Turn-verein have their hall and rooms on the north side of O'Farrell, between Mason and Taylor. Organized in 1852, it is the oldest association in the State, owns its premises, and has an actual present membership of nearly six hundred. It is, of course, conducted upon the German plan.

Y.M.C.A.—Those who want a roll at the pins upon strictly orthodox principles, or to punch each other's heads under the sanction of christianity, can escape, or at least modify, the censure of their uncharitable spiritual superiors, by resorting to the very neat and comfortable gymnasium in the basement of the Young Men's Christian Association Building, already described. This has the great advantage and the unquestionable attraction of providing for ladies also. It has all the necessary conveniences of bath-rooms and dressing-rooms attached.

Skating Rinks.—Mercury, the fleet messenger of the gods, is fabled to have had wings upon his feet. Forbidden by gravity to emulate him, our modern skaters fasten wheels to their feet, and make up for their inability to fly by developing their power to skate. The immense floor of the Mechanics' Institute Mammoth Pavilion, on the west side of Stockton, between Post and Geary, affords the largest and smoothest rink to be found in the union. Two or three others exist in the city, besides the very large and fine new one in the pavilion at Woodward's Gardens.

Base-ball and Cricket Grounds.—At the southeast corner of Folsom and Twenty-fifth streets, an entire block, inclosed by a high fence, leveled to the necessary smoothness and overlooked by several hundred well-sheltered spectators' seats, furnishes fine accommodations for match games of base-ball and cricket. Here the famous Red Stockings, of Cincinnati, won fresh laurels, and the officers and crew of H.B.M. ship Zealous, played the crack cricket clubs of the State.

Parks and Gardens.

WOODWARD'S GARDENS

Are on the west side of Mission street, between Thirteenth and Fourteenth. This famous resort is both park and garden, and much more besides. Its fences inclose nearly six acres, but its actual surface considerably surpasses that area, from the fact that the hill-slopes and terraces, with the various floors and galleries of the different buildings really double or even treble the original surface beneath, so that, if spread upon one level, they would cover thousands of square feet more. They thus rival any public square in size and far surpass it in variety and beauty.

We reach them, by the red cars of the City Railroad Company, leaving the west front of the Grand Hotel, at the junction of New Montgomery Avenue and Market street, every five minutes—fare five cents. Or we may go out by either the Market street, Howard street, or Folsom street cars. The first of these carry us within a little over a block of the entrance—fare, five cents; the second within a block, and the third within two blocks. Fare on the last two, ten cents for a single ride, or four tickets for a quarter. On sunny days and holiday afternoons the City Railroad runs large, open-sided excursion or picnic cars, newly constructed expressly to be run to and from the Gardens. The entrance is upon the west side of Mission, between Thirteenth and Fourteenth, through an elegant architectural gateway, or sort of faÇade, surmounted by four colossal statues, or carved figures. The two central figures resemble a combination of Minerva and the Goddess of Liberty; one might not go far wrong in letting them stand for California and Oregon. The one upon either flank is a notably well-carved grizzly; larger than life and twice as natural, sitting erect upon his haunches, supporting a flag-staff with his fore paws, and with mouth slightly opened in an amiable grin of undisguised pleasure at the prominence of his elevated position, and of welcome to the visiting thousands who constantly deposit their quarters and dimes beneath his sentinel post.

Arrived within we seem to have suddenly left the windy city and dusty streets far behind. Grassy lawns surround beautiful gardens. Every variety of flowery vine and blossoming shrub alternates with rare trees interspersed here and there with artificial clumps of imported trees, or stretching along the border of the original grove native to the spot, while gravel walks wind among the whole. Immediately upon the right of the entrance, in the gate-keeper's building, is a library of nearly two thousand standard volumes, many of them rare and costly. Directly in front of the gateway, stands the

MUSEUM,

formerly Mr. Woodward's private residence—at present occupied by a miscellaneous museum of natural and artificial wonders, beasts, birds, fishes and shells, with an occasional freak of nature in the shape of a mammoth or a dwarf, or a still more startling preservation of some double-headed or six-legged specimens. The zoologist or ornithologist would scarcely get beyond this building the first day. Left of the Museum stands the

CONSERVATORY.

This is the principal one of five flower and plant houses, having an aggregate length of three hundred feet by one tenth that width. This is a really elegant crystal palace in miniature, filled with the beauty and fragrance of the rarest exotics. Through this one may pass directly to the

ART GALLERY.

The vestibule or ante-room of the Art Gallery is in fact another museum, containing two statues, an extensive collection of birds and bird's eggs; upwards of a thousand coins of all ages and nations, curious idols and weapons, with hundreds of other curiosities helpfully classified, and the whole enclosed in an ante-room elegantly proportioned and beautifully frescoed by Poldeman, in imitation of Pompeii. Thence we enter the Art Gallery proper, lighted from above—frescoed by the same artist—decorated, in the corners, with allegorical representations of Painting, Sculpture, Music and Architecture—while over the door hang the two celebrated bas-reliefs, "Night" and "Morning," by Thorwaldsen. Niches on each side contain busts of Schiller, Goethe, Tasso and Petrarch. Over sixty rare old paintings or faithful copies cover the walls. Raphael and Salvator Rosa appear in beautiful copies; several gems from the best Dutch masters furnish a transition to the modern school, of which one or two pictures from Bierstadt, and two or three views of California scenery by Virgil Williams, stand as pleasing types.

Leaving the Art Gallery, by another exit, we stand upon the margin of a lovely little lake, around whose centre revolves the great attraction for the young folks, and no small novelty to most adult visitors, the famous

ROTARY BOAT.

This endless craft is a huge circular vessel, rigged with fore and aft sails, and seating a hundred people, who step in from the concave landing upon one side as the radial seats successively come up. It would puzzle the "cutest" old salt to find bow or stern to this curious craft; the shrewdest countrymen have to confess that they "can't make head nor tail out of the thing," while the enjoyment which the youngsters find in it, like the boat itself, never comes to an end.

Between the lake and the conservatory, an outdoor

GYMNASIUM,

with ladders, bars, rings, swings and climbing-poles, accommodates all who may wish to recreate the body. From the lake flows a little stream, along whose banks the pelican, the crane, the albatross, the wild goose and the common gull, pompously stalk or awkwardly waddle; while in its water, two or three beavers, a pair of minks and a seal or two, make their homes. Beyond this, the

HENNERY,

in which the admirer of fine poultry may see a large variety of the choicest stock. An adjoining inclosure presents a pair of ostriches, and another has two or three beautiful deer and fawn. Near the southwest corner of the garden, the

TUNNEL

carries the visitor through a heavily-timbered, securely planked, cleanly-kept and well-lighted passage under Fourteenth street, into the

ZOOLOGICAL GROUNDS

and the amphitheater. Here, ranged along the north side, backed by a high and tight fence, and fronting the south that they may have the warmest possible exposure, are the animals of the menagerie. Royal Bengal Tigers, Rocky Mountain Grizzlies, Mexican Panthers, and South American Jaguars, Australian Kangaroos, and a curious medley of dissimilar animals known as the "Happy Family," make up the caged collection. The cages are roomy, airy, cleanly and secure. The animals are remarkably fine specimens, kept in capital condition, and the keeper is intelligent and courteous.

Beyond the great cages is another range of smaller ones, containing black and cinnamon bears, foxes, badgers, raccoons, opossums, and mischievous monkeys of all sizes. Esquimaux dogs, Siberian reindeer and European elk, with many other animals, more than we have space even to catalogue, make up a collection of animated nature sufficient to stock half a dozen ordinary traveling shows, and still leave enough on hand to surpass any of them. Besides these, spacious inclosures allow Arabian and Bactrian camels a free promenade, while still beyond, another yard is tenanted by the shaggiest, sleepiest-looking, most patient and good-natured donkeys that ever allowed a gang of roistering youngsters to pack themselves upon their backs, only to be incontinently and ignominiously pitched over their heads into a promiscuous pile of dust-covered and disgusted juvenile humanity. At the extreme end of the Zoological Grounds the inclosure on the right contains a genuine Rocky Mountain Buffalo, while in the larger one upon the left, two or three reindeer contentedly browse.

AMPHITHEATER.

In the center of the zoological grounds, a large race-course, securely inclosed between inner and outer circular fences, affords free scope for Roman Chariot races, hurdle races, foot races, and equestrian performances generally. Within the inner fence, a level circle of some eighty feet diameter, accommodates acrobatic performers; while a lofty pole, rising from its center, furnishes ambitious youngsters all needed facilities for flying swings or skillful "shinning." Around this stadium are raised seats for three thousand, with a covered portion sheltering six hundred, not to mention standing room for ten thousand more.

Returning through the tunnel we turn to the left, ascend the hill and enter the

PAVILION.

This is the largest and strongest permanent wooden building upon the coast. It has the form of a parallelogram with the corners unequally cut off, thus giving its ground outline the shape of an irregular octagon. It is one hundred and fifty feet long, by one hundred and thirty wide and fifty high, surmounted by a water-tight roof, nearly an acre and a half in extent. Half a dozen broad entrances admit us to the spacious interior. Here we have a central floor; one hundred and ten feet long by ninety feet wide, as solidly laid, perfectly fitted and smoothly planed as art could make it, and furnishing the finest

SKATING RINK

imaginable, or the most capacious ball-room floor to be desired. Around this floor, a sort of dress-circle, fitted with easy seats, separated by broad aisles and roomy spaces, rises gradually back to the surrounding wall. This dress-circle accommodates three thousand spectators. Above it is a broad gallery of equal size, similarly fitted and holding as many. The gallery windows command a fine view of the underlying gardens, the meandering walks, the lake, the conservatories, shrubbery and the museum; of the zoological grounds and amphitheater further away, and of the southwestern suburbs, bounded by the Mission hills, beyond. This pavilion has a seating capacity of six thousand, while for any brief mass-meeting, four thousand more could easily stand in the nine thousand nine hundred square feet of space upon the floor. A commodious and conveniently located music, or speaker's stand, with broad stairways between dress-circle and gallery, complete the appointments of this mammoth building, whose workman-like finish and enormous strength, fully equal its huge size and immense capacity. Just west of the pavilion stands a picturesque little

TURKISH MOSQUE,

whose exterior faithfully reproduces the oriental original. Its interior is tastefully frescoed, while its domed ceiling presents an astronomical fresco, representing the starry heavens. Near the southeast corner of the pavilion is the

RESTAURANT,

so that one need not leave the grounds, should he find occasion to fill his stomach before he has sufficiently feasted his eyes. Between the restaurant and the mosque, occupying the highest point of the hill, stands

THE OBSERVATORY,

formed by a secure railing and comfortable seats inclosing and surrounding the circular top of a huge reservoir, or tank. Until the recent erection of the pavilion, this was the best point of view from which to study the plan of the grounds and enjoy their scenery; and even now, it well rewards ascent, especially for those who hardly care to climb into the pavilion gallery.

In various snug places among and under the trees, and, in some places, surrounding their trunks, are scattered scores of

LUNCH TABLES,

as a sort of out-post or picket-guard thrown out by the restaurant proper. All about the top of the pavilion hill, and for some distance down its sides, these tables, of all shapes and sizes, round, ring-shaped, triangular, octagonal, square, and "parallelogramical," and surrounded by an abundance of comfortable seats, occupy the most romantic situations. Descending the hill-slope by a winding path, we pass a broad lawn upon the left, on which the enterprising proprietor proposes the early erection of a large, conveniently-arranged fire-proof museum, for the better security of his valuable collections and cabinets.

We have now completed the general tour of this elegant park, with its delightful combination of the beautiful in nature and the wonderful in art, with the rarest curiosities of both. As a broad and airy holiday play-ground for tired pupils, as a romantic retreat for family picnics, as a pleasure-park for the quiet promenades of old and young, as a varied field of study for the naturalist, as one of the lungs through which the tired and dusty city may draw a cool, refreshing, healthful breath, and, finally, as a grand union of park, garden, conservatory, museum, gymnasium, zoological grounds and art gallery, no eastern city offers the equal of Woodward's Gardens.

City Gardens.

On the south side of Twelfth street, stretching from Folsom to Harrison, and running half a block south. Entrance on the corner of Folsom and Twelfth. Reached most directly by the Folsom street cars. Admission, 25 cts.

Menageries.

The finest in the city is that already described in the zoological department of Woodward's Gardens. The only other is a small collection of bears, monkeys and birds at North Beach.

Squares and Parks.

The oldest and best finished public square is Portsmouth Square, commonly called the Plaza, on the west side of Kearny street, extending from Clay street to Washington street, and directly fronting the old City Hall. Besides these are Washington, Union, Columbia, Lobos, Alcatraz, Lafayette, Jefferson, Alta, Hamilton and Alamo Squares, with Yerba Buena, Buena Vista and Golden Gate Parks. The last named covers nearly 1,200 acres, (of sand at present.) Of these, the Plaza and Washington Square are the principal ones which have been sufficiently improved to merit even passing notice. To these one may add South Park, a small but elegant private inclosure occupying the centre of the block between Bryant and Brannan streets.

Promenades.

Montgomery Street.—This is the San Francisco Broadway. Flanked on either side by many of the largest and finest retail business houses, as well as two of the leading hotels. During the forenoon business monopolizes it almost exclusively; afternoons fashion claims its sidewalks, and well-nigh crowds business, not exactly to the wall, but rather upon the curbstone, if not fairly into the gutter. From three to five P.M. the tide of mammon begins to ebb, and that of fashion swells in at full flood. Fair women and frail, beauty and ugliness—calicoes, silks, satins, velvets, broadcloths, beavers and cashmere, make up the motley throng, swaying and trailing up and down the crowded thoroughfare. The faces are very fair, "as far as we can see," and the forms equally graceful, with the same limitation.

Masculine faces, broad-browed, clear-eyed, bronze-cheeked, firm-mouthed or full-bearded, impress one with the dash, the drive and the nerve which have spanned the continent with rails and bridged the Pacific with ships, ere yet the flush of full manhood has fairly settled upon them. Too many, it is true, show the full, uncertain lip, the flushed cheek and dewy eye that tell of excessive stimulus too frequently applied. Nowhere on earth is the temptation to drink stronger than here. Business is sharp, competition brisk, and the climate the most stimulating anywhere to be found. So they drive till nature falters or weakens and calls for rest. But rest they cannot or will not afford; the stimulus is quicker, it is everywhere close at hand—it seems to save time. Business men die suddenly; on the street to-day, at Laurel Hill to-morrow; heart disease, apoplexy, congestion of the lungs, or liver complaint, are among the causes most frequently assigned to the inquiring public. The causes of these causes, few stop to ask, or dare to tell.

Kearny Street.—with Montgomery and but a single block above, that is, west of it, runs the rival, if not already the equal, business and pleasure avenue, Kearny street. Though some single buildings on Montgomery may be finer, the average of the business blocks along Kearny street already equals, if it does not surpass that of its rival. The street itself is broader, the sidewalks wider, while the press of vehicles and the throngs of fashion are fully equal.

California Street.—At right angles with both these streets, and intersecting them near their centre, California street, the Wall street of San Francisco, runs straight down from one of the highest summits within the city limits, to within two blocks of the water front, and there debouches into Market. Its upper portion lies between elegant private residences; half way down the slope stand two of the leading city churches; below, the Alta office, and leading telegraph offices; thence from Montgomery down, the finest number of business blocks the city presents. On this street below Montgomery, the Bank of California, the Merchants' Exchange, the Pacific Insurance Company's Building, Hayward's, Duncan's, and Wormser's, with other blocks and buildings, present a continuous front of architectural beauty rarely equaled.

Market Street.—This broad, dividing avenue which separates the older city from the newer, offers a rare architectural medley to the exploring tourist's eye. Some of the grandest business blocks on the Pacific slope tower up between or stand squarely opposite the frailest wooden shells that yet survive the "early days." Running up from the water, one encounters such noble blocks as Treadwell's, not lofty but broad, deep and strong. Harpending's whole-block front. The Grand Hotel and Nucleus foretell the size and style of the blocks which are yet to form continuous fronts along this main artery of trade.

Second, Third and Fourth Streets.—South of Market, these streets come nearer to fashionable streets than any others; especially along the blocks nearer to Market. They present several single buildings of notable size and style.

The Best Time.—For any walk or drive within the city limits, or on the entire San Francisco peninsular, the most comfortable hours of all the day, during the season in which the tourists commonly visit us, that is from May to September, are, unquestionably, the morning hours; the earlier the better. If you would see men and women go later; take the afternoon, face the wind and the dust, be lifted bodily off your feet, round "Cape Horn," as they call the southeast corner of Market and Third streets, until you have quite enough of that "free-soil" which may be a very fine thing in politics, but is a "beastly disagreeable thing," as our English friends might say, on a promenade.

Drives.

The Cliff House Road.—Stretches westerly from the city limits, now the west end of Bush street, to the Pacific Ocean beach—originally a mere trail over shifting sand hills. It has become the broadest, hardest, smoothest and longest track in the State. If you want an idea of California horseflesh, and San Francisco turnouts, trot out this way almost any day. The track has a fine, hard surface wide enough, in places, for twenty teams abreast, and is often nearly filled from side to side with smooth-rolling or friendly racing teams, from the natty single buggy to the elegant coach, or the stately four-in-hand. A million dollars' worth of legs and wheels flash by a man in a very few hours on this fashionable drive, especially on a race-day. Along this road are one or two wayside inns, which, like the majority of California inns, are chiefly drinking-houses under another name. At the end stands the Cliff House, so named from its site, the solid top of a precipitous rocky bluff or cliff, overlooking the Seal Rocks, a few hundred feet west; then a thirty-mile horizon of the Pacific Ocean, broken only by the sharp rocky points of the Farallones low down under the western sky, visible only when fogs and mists and haze are wanting. Attached to the house are long horse sheds which shut off the wind from your horse while his driver goes in to interview Foster, mine host of the Cliff. South of the Cliff the road goes down to and out upon the Ocean House, which differs little from the popular eastern beach drives, except that it is not as wide even at the lowest of the tide, and that the ocean view thence is far more seldom diversified with sails. The beach and surf are good, however, and a brisk drive of two or three miles upon it, seldom fails to put the oxygen into the lungs—the iodine into the blood, and the exhilaration into the spirits. Some two or three miles south of the Cliff House, the road bends east, leaves the beach and starts back to the city by another way, known as the

Ocean House Road, named, like the other, from the house standing near its seaward end. Approaching the city by this route, one reaches a greater height than by the Cliff House road, and when about two miles from the city, enjoys a beautiful view of the southern and western city, the shipping, the bay, the opposite shore, the trailing cities and towns, whose houses gleam between the trees of Contra Costa and Alameda counties, with their grassy foot-hills, the whole view backed and bounded by old Mt. Diablo beyond. Returning by this road, one enters the city suburbs upon the southwest by Seventeenth, or Corbett street, passes directly by the Mission with the famous old church which named it, and pursues his way back to the centre by Market, Mission, Howard or Folsom streets. Between the Cliff House and Ocean House roads, and nearer the latter, private enterprise has recently constructed a third track, known as the Central Ocean Drive.

Bay View Road.—Drive from Market street along Third to the Long Bridge, cross that to the Potrero, keep straight on through the deep cut, over the Islais bridge, thence through South San Francisco, up a little rise, from whose summit you look down into a little valley or green bay of vegetable gardens, between which and the water stands the Bay View House, on one side of the Bay View race track. From several points as you drive out, you will readily understand why they used the phrase "Bay View" so frequently in naming localities hereabout. If you wish to return by another way, drive half a mile beyond the track, where your way runs into the older road of early times. If you have time, drive on to the brow of the hill and look down into Visitacion Valley; if not, at the acute angle where the roads become one, you turn sharply back, and after two miles of slightly uneven road, enter the city between the eastern edge of the Mission flats and the western foot of the Potrero hills.

The best time for all these drives, as already said concerning the promenades, is morning, the earlier the better. Besides the greater purity and freshness of the air, everywhere accompanying the morning hours, one then escapes the wind and dust which, on nearly every afternoon, constitute the chief drawback from the full enjoyment of outdoor pleasure during those hours.

Libraries.

In these windy and dusty afternoons, when nature seems to frown, art and literature invite you within, and proffer quiet retreats with the best of company—good books. For a city as young and as distinctively absorbed in business, San Francisco has amply provided for the gratification of scientific research or literary taste. The chief libraries are the Mercantile, the Mechanics' Institute, the Odd Fellows', the Pioneers', and the Y.M.C.A., each of which is located in the building of the same name, presently to be noticed. Besides these, at the What Cheer House, and at Woodward's Gardens, one finds two or three thousand well selected standard volumes, free to guests and visitors.

Public Buildings.

FEDERAL.

Post-Office.—The first of these to every tourist is, naturally, the Government building through which his letters come and go. This is a moderately-sized two-story building of stuccoed brick, running parallel with the west side of Battery street, between Washington and Jackson. One may enter from any street of the three. The ladies' entrance, which is also common, is from Washington street. The principal business entrance is on the west front of the building, through a cross street entered at either end from Washington or Jackson. The office opens daily at 8 A.M., and closes at 6:30 P.M., except Sundays, when its only open hour is from 9 to 10 A.M. The great overland mail for New York, by the way of Salt Lake and Omaha, closes every week day at 7:30 A.M., and on Saturdays at 3 P.M., N.B. Stone, P.M.

The Custom House is simply the upper floor of the Post-office building. Entrance on Battery, near Washington. Timothy G. Phelps, Collector.

U.S. Branch Mint.—The old building still occupied, and likely to be for at least a year, stands on the north side of Commercial, near Montgomery. Office hours from 9 A.M. to 2 P.M. Visitors received daily from 9 to 12. O.H. La Grange, Superintendent.

The New Mint, or what is to be that building, stands on the northwest corner of Fifth and Mission streets. Its ground dimensions are 221½ feet on Fifth, by 166½ feet on Mission street. The basement is already built of California granite. Above the basement, which is 13¾ feet high, the walls are built of blue-gray freestone, from Newcastle Island in the Gulf of Georgia, between Vancouver's Island and the mainland of British Columbia. Thus, Uncle Sam is building his new Mint of British stone. Two stories of 18½ feet each will surmount the high basement. The lower of these is now nearly completed. From the pavement to the crown of the roof will be 70 feet. Two chimneys will tower to the height of 150 feet.

The U.S. Marine Hospital stands at the northeast corner of Harrison and Main streets, upon the northeast slope of Rincon Hill. This is the old building. The hospital also occupies the former buildings of the Deaf and Dumb Asylum, on the southeast corner of Mission and Fifteenth streets.

CITY AND COUNTY BUILDINGS.

Old City Hall.—This famous old brick and stucco, two-story, earthquake-cracked, and iron-braced structure, with the adjoining Hall of Records, stretches along the east side of Kearny street from Merchant to Washington, and extends nearly a third of the block down each of those streets. The police-offices and lock-ups occupy the basement, while the usual District Court rooms, with Judges' Chambers and municipal offices, Supervisors' and Board of Education rooms, fill the upper floors, and clamor for more room.

The New City Hall thus far exists only on paper. The Commissioners have chosen an elaborate plan for a costly edifice, which will far surpass anything on the coast in architectural beauty; but the execution of that plan has hardly yet completed the excavation for the foundation walls. Hence it is yet too early to tantalize the tourist with descriptions of a beautiful building not yet visible, except in the architect's drawing, or the lithographic copies. If any tourist is curious to see the site, he may find it by going out Market street till he reaches what was known as Yerba Buena Park, corner of Market and Seventh streets. The City Hall Commissioners adopted the plans and specifications of Mr. Augustus Laver, of New York, and elected him architect; but, at the present rate of progress, it is hardly probable that less than two or three years will witness the completion of the urgently-needed and magnificently-designed new City Hall.

Jail.—On the north side of Broadway, between Dupont and Kearny, one desirous of inspecting our penal institutions may find ample opportunity to study the physiognomy of that class which inhabits them, and learn the crimes which preponderate in the Pacific metropolis. Sheriff, P.J. White.

Almshouse.—This asylum occupies one of the healthiest locations in the State, near the Ocean House, or San Miguel road, about four and one quarter miles southwest of the City Hall. M.J. Keating, Superintendent.

Industrial School.—This finely-constructed, conveniently-arranged and well-managed reform school, stands on the western slope of the peninsula hills, about seven miles southwest of the city. Like the Almshouse it has as healthful a location as can be found in the State. It receives only boys, who are regularly taught by competent teachers, and employed in various indoor occupations or out-door work. Present number of inmates, two hundred and twelve. The order and discipline of this school well repay a visit. Jno. C. Pelton, Superintendent.

Engine Houses.—In early days, before the establishment of homes, the pioneer firemen seemed to love their machine very much as the sailor loves his ship. They built elegant and costly engine houses, which became to many of them the only homes they ever knew. Since the introduction of the improved steam fire engines, and the organization of the paid fire department, the glory of the old volunteer organizations has well nigh departed. But their houses yet remain, some of them converted to other uses, while others still retain much of their earlier attractiveness.

Eight first-class steamers, of the Amoskeag make, weighing from three to four tons each, throwing four hundred gallons a minute, each costing from four to five thousand dollars in gold coin, and manned by twelve men, make up the present paid fire department. At a public trial a week since, New York and Philadelphia witnesses voluntarily and unanimously testified that they had never seen machines reach the spot as soon and get a stream upon the flames as quickly, as did the machines of our fire department. This fact may conduce to the sense of security with which the eastern tourist lies down to sleep in his strange bed. For the benefit of any extra nervous gentleman, we may add the universal rule of conduct in regard to midnight alarms of fire among us, is this: When waked by a fire-alarm, place your hand against the nearest wall. If it feels cold, lie still; if moderately warm, order a different room at once; if positively hot, leave for another hotel immediately.

CORPORATION AND SOCIETY BUILDINGS.

The Pioneer's Building.—A finely proportioned building on the corner of Gold and Montgomery streets, above Jackson. This building is not as noteworthy as the society which built and chiefly occupies it. The famous "Society of California Pioneers" was formed in August, 1850. Its constitution declares its object to be:

"To cultivate the social virtues of its members;

"To collect and preserve information connected with the early settlement of the country; and

"To perpetuate the memory of those whose sagacity, energy and love of independence induced them to settle in the wilderness and become the germs of a new State."

It includes three classes: 1st. Native Californians; foreigners living in California before the American conquest; and citizens of the United States who became actual residents here before January 1st, 1849—with the male descendants of these.

2d. Citizens of the United States who became actual residents of California before January 1st, 1850, and their male descendants.

3d. Honorary members admitted according to the by-laws. The society has enrolled over 1,300 members. Its historical library and museum well repay a visit. Charles D. Carter, President.

Merchant's Exchange.—This building, the commercial headquarters of the mercantile army of the Pacific, stands on the south side of California street, between Montgomery and Sansome. It ranks among the largest and finest architectural ornaments of the city.

Bank of California.—Northwest corner of California and Sansome. This elegant stone structure is not remarkable for size; but for broad and deep foundations, slow and strong construction, harmonious proportions, convenient arrangements and admirable finish within and without, it ranks among the finest and most costly business buildings in the Union. President, D.O. Mills. Cashier, William C. Ralston.

Mercantile Library Building.—North side of Bush street, between Montgomery and Sansome. This is the building for which the great lottery paid. It presents a noble front, a finely finished interior, with library room containing over 30,000 volumes, reading room, magazine room, reference room, chess room, with a large ladies' room of remarkably costly and tasteful furnishing. The hall in the basement, has already been noticed. Ogden Hoffman, President; Alfred Stebbins, Librarian.

Mechanics' Institute Building.—South side of Post street, just below Kearny. A well-proportioned, substantially built, sensible-looking building, and so far truthfully indicative of the healthful prosperity of the excellent organization which owns and occupies it. A library of nearly 20,000 volumes, including many rare and costly scientific works, a large and well-stocked reading room, a sort of museum, including mineralogical cabinets, mechanical models, scientific apparatus and works of art, with a popular business college, occupy this valuable building. The commodious hall upon the lower floor, has been previously described.

Mechanics' Pavilion.—Union Square, between Geary and Post streets on the south and north, and Stockton and Powell streets on the east and west. One of the largest, if not the largest, wooden buildings now standing in America, covering two and one half acres of ground; originally erected by the Mechanics' Institute Association, for the accommodation of their biennial fairs, and found almost indispensably convenient for all grander gatherings; it has since been retained, and successively occupied by fairs, grand masquerade balls, velocipede schools and skating rinks. The most notable event occurring under its mammoth roof was the Grand Musical Festival or Gift Concert, in aid of the Mercantile Library Association, given under the lead of Madame Camilla Urso. After the approaching Mechanics' Fair, to be held this summer, the building is to be removed.

Masonic Temple.—Upon the west side of Montgomery, at the corner of Post; of peculiar and attractive architecture, imposing proportions and elegant finish, it justly ranks among the most prominent buildings of the city.

Odd Fellows' Hall.—Montgomery street, between Pine and California. Not particularly imposing from without, but attractive from the unity, strength and benificence of the Order which it represents. Within are a library of nearly 20,000 standard and popular volumes, a well-supplied reading-room, and a well-managed savings' bank.

Y.M.C.A.—This quartette of initials has now become so well known throughout the larger cities of the Union, that the visitor in any large city is disappointed if he does not find the local habitation of this fast-spreading bond of unity among all good men. Here, upon Sutter street, just above Kearny, he will be agreeably disappointed to discover a large, new, stone-front building, unique in design, and most pleasing in its general effect. Within are library, reading-rooms, hall, gymnasium, and several convenient lodging-rooms. Chas. Goodall, President; H.L. Chamberlain, Librarian.

Business Buildings and Blocks.

Alta California Building—On the south side of California street, between Montgomery and Kearny. Its comparatively great height, as related to its width, give it a somewhat monumental appearance, not inappropriate, however, when we remember that the whole tasteful structure stands as the monument of the enterprise, energy, perseverance and success of the oldest and largest paper published in the State. Fred. MacCrellish & Co., proprietors.

Bancroft's—South side of Market street, between Third and Fourth. Few business buildings upon the continent combine the colossal proportions with the graceful details of this mammoth house of the oldest and largest publishing firm upon the coast.

Donohoe, Kelly & Co.'s Building—Upon the southeast corner of Montgomery and Sacramento streets, deserves mention among the finest business buildings.

Harpending's Block—On the south side of Market street, between First and Second; the longest and loftiest business front presented by any single business block in the city.

Murphy, Grant & Co's. Building—Northeast corner of Bush and Sansome. A large and handsome building, as strong as iron, stone and brick can make it.

Tobin, Dixon & Davisson's Building—Northwest corner of Sansome and Sutter, can hardly be omitted from the inspection of our finest business houses.

Treadwell's Agricultural Warehouse—South side of Market street, opposite Front. Not lofty, but broad; not imposing, but extensive.

Tucker's—Northwest corner of Montgomery and Sutter. Lofty, finely-proportioned, monumental, and substantial; surmounted by a clock-tower, which has become one of the landmarks of the city. The main salesroom within is beautifully frescoed and fitted throughout with extreme elegance and at great cost.

The White House—Corner of Kearny and Post streets. An elegant new iron and brick structure, light, airy and ornamental in its general effect. Receives its name from its color, which has hitherto been an uncommon one in this city, but is daily becoming less so. Occupied chiefly by the leading dry goods firm of J.W. Davidson & Co.

Wells, Fargo & Co's. Building—Corner of California and Montgomery streets. Who does not know it? Solid granite blocks, dressed in China, brought hither in ships, and piled in stern simplicity upon that central corner to outstand all earthquake shocks, and survive all business wrecks. A pioneer building which has already become far too small for its immense business, but ought never to be taken down until the whole city goes with it.

Kimball Car and Carriage Factory.—Corner of Bryant and Fourth streets. Eastern visitors call this the largest establishment of the kind in America. In immense extent, convenient arrangement, and comprehensiveness of scope, it can hardly be surpassed. Its latest triumph is the construction of a magnificent Palace Car, built wholly of California woods, undisguised by paint, carving, gilding, or varnish—the most complete and superb palace on wheels ever built. Thirty-five different woods enter into its construction, displaying a variety of structure and a range of harmonious tints hardly imaginable by those who have seen only the poor imitations of feeble art. The car is a triumph of taste and skill, and is worth a half-day's time of any tourist simply to study and enjoy it. It has been proposed that the merchants of this city buy it, and present it to the President of the United States—to the office, not the incumbent—to be kept at Washington, and used as the official car for all Presidential tours. A better idea could hardly be suggested. May the motion prevail!

The Pacific Rolling Mills stand upon the point of the Potrero. They include all the massive machinery of their ponderous business, and turn out heavy castings, forgings, and railroad iron by hundreds of tons daily.

The Mission Woolen Mills—Folsom street, corner of Sixteenth. Here are made those wonderful blankets of such marvelous fineness and thickness, which have attracted so much attention, and received even the World's Fair premium abroad.

Foundries and Iron Works.

Union Iron Works.—The oldest and largest in California, employing three hundred and thirty men, and turning out the heaviest and most perfect mining and railroad machinery, locomotives, etc. Located on the northeast corner of Mission and First streets. H.J. Booth & Co.

Risdon Iron and Locomotive Works, southeast corner of Howard and Beale streets. Has all the latest mechanical improvements of the business. Can turn out a shaft forty-eight feet long, and weighing thirty tons. It employs two hundred and seventy-five hands. John N. Risdon, president.

The Fulton, Miners', and Pacific Foundries, with the Etna and Vulcan Iron Works, are the other leading ones of the coast.

Shot Tower and Lead Works.

Corner of Howard and First streets. The pioneer and, thus far, the only works upon the coast. The tower is one of the most prominent and sightly objects visible in all the water approaches to the city.

Sugar Refineries.

The city has four: The San Francisco and Pacific, Bay, California, and Golden Gate, turning out twenty thousand tons of sugar annually.

Ship Yards.

At North Beach and at the Potrero are the principal yards. They build mainly river steamers or ferry boats, or smaller ocean craft, rarely constructing anything above three hundred tons. For larger craft it is cheaper to go north, where immense forests of the finest ship-timber run clear down to the ocean beach, and stand asking to be built into ships.

Glass Works.

Two: one in the city, on the south side of Townsend, between Third and Fourth; and the other, the Pacific Glass works, on the Potrero, at the corner of Iowa and Mariposa streets. These confine their works chiefly to bottles, telegraph caps, etc.

Churches.

Baptist.—This prominent denomination has six church buildings in the city. The First Baptist Church claims special space from the fact that it was the first Protestant house of worship dedicated in California. This was in August, 1849. The present building of stuccoed brick, occupies the original site of the first small, wooden pioneer church—on the north side of Washington street, between Stockton and Dupont. Rev. A.R. Medbury, Pastor.

Congregational.—This denomination has the honor of having furnished the first settled Protestant chaplain in San Francisco, Rev. T. Dwight Hunt. He held the rare position of "Citizens' Chaplain," Nov. 1st, 1848, conducting Divine worship every Sunday in the "Public Institute," (the school-house) on Portsmouth Square—the Plaza. The citizens unitedly invited him from Honolulu, and paid him $2,500 a year. The denomination has four church buildings—named by their order of erection. The First Congregational Church is on the southwest corner of California and Dupont streets. The pastor is Rev. Dr. Stone, formerly of the Park street church, Boston.

Episcopal.—This denomination has five church buildings, of which Grace Church, corner of California and Stockton streets, is the oldest and largest. The building is 135 feet long, 62 feet wide and 66 feet high. Its great size and sightly location make it one of the prominent buildings in any general view of the city. Rev. James S. Bush, Rector. The four other Episcopal church buildings are—Trinity, St. John's, Church of the Advent, and St. Luke's.

Hebrew.—Synagogue of the Congregation Emanu-el, Sutter street, between Stockton and Powell. Of the five Jewish congregations, this has "The Synagogue" par excellence—the one always meant when one speaks of "The Jewish Synagogue." It is an elegant and costly structure, built of brick, not yet stuccoed, supporting two prominent towers, and finished within in most appropriate and artistic style. Total cost, including lot, $185,000, gold coin.

Methodist.—This popular, powerful and rapidly growing denomination has already erected eleven church buildings in San Francisco—more than any other Protestant Church, except the Presbyterians. Its newest and most elegant church is the First Methodist Episcopal Church, on the west side of Powell, between Washington and Jackson. This is one of the most elegant and really artistic churches; within and without, any where to be found. Rev. Dr. Cox, Pastor.

Howard Street M.E. Church.—South side of Howard, between Second and Third. This is the most substantial and valuable building owned by the denomination. Value, including lot and parsonage, $100,000. Its style is medieval gothic. Pastor, Rev. L. Walker.

Presbyterian.—This recently united denomination, no longer old and new school, has also eleven church buildings; of these the two most noted are the Calvary Presbyterian Church, corner of Geary and Powell streets. This church is as capacious and comfortable, even luxurious within, as the most fastidious could desire. Its organ is the largest and finest on the coast. Rev. J. Hemphill, Pastor.

Howard Presbyterian Church, Mission street, near Third; lately, Rev. Dr. Scudder's. This building, with a plain and unpretentious exterior, has greater seating capacity than any other Protestant church in the city. It is of recent construction and very convenient internal arrangements. Temporary pastor, Rev. J.K. Kendall.

First Presbyterian Church—On the west side of Stockton, between Washington and Clay. This gothic building is one of the largest and finest—but its chief claim to notice here, rests upon the fact that the church which built it, organized May 20th, 1849, under the direction of the Rev. Albert Williams, was the first Protestant church organized in San Francisco.

Roman Catholic.—St. Patrick's Church, on the north side of Mission, between Third and Fourth streets. Although so new that it is not yet finished, this church is set first, because it is the largest in the State, being one hundred and sixty feet long by eighty feet wide. Its spire is the loftiest and most beautifully proportioned in the city, height 240 feet. Rev. Peter J. Grey, Pastor.

St. Mary's Cathedral, California street, at the northeast corner of Dupont. In age, cost and rank this building is entitled to the first place. It is a noble structure of Gothic architecture, which has been carried out in every detail. The front extends seventy-five feet on California street, from which the cathedral runs back one hundred and thirty-one feet on Dupont. The tower is at present one hundred and thirty-five feet high, and is to be surmounted by a spire rising sixty-five feet further. The Most Rev. Joseph S. Alemany is the Archbishop.

Old Mission Church, on the southwest corner of Sixteenth and Dolores streets. This was dedicated Oct. 9, 1776, by Father Junipero Serra, the father of the California missions. Aside from its age and associations, the building is of little note. It is built of the old adobes, which were simply unburnt bricks dried in the sun, and formed a favorite building material with the early Spanish and Mexican inhabitants. The old custom-house, on Portsmouth square, was built of this material. The roof was covered with semi-cylindrical tiles of burnt clay, laid in alternate rows, the first one having the concave side up, and the next its convex side up. The outside, generally, is very plain, though the front shows some old-fashioned round columns, and a few small bells suspended in square apertures under the projecting roof. The interior is dark, cold and comfortless. Rev. Thos. Cushing, Pastor.

Besides the three churches already named, the Catholics have nine others in the city, in addition to five or six chapels and asylums.

Swedenborgian.—First New Jerusalem Church. This is a very neat Gothic building, on the north side of O'Farrell, between Mason and Taylor streets. Rev. John Doughty, Pastor.

A second New Jerusalem Church, of which Rev. Joseph Worcester is pastor, having yet erected no building, meets in the Druids' Hall, No. 413 Sutter street.

Unitarian.—First Unitarian Church. This most beautiful church edifice stands upon the south side of Geary street, just below Stockton. Its front presents, unquestionably, the finest specimen of church architecture in the State, and can hardly be surpassed in America. The interior is tastefully decorated with a colored fresco of extreme beauty, and most artistic harmony of tint. The organ, baptismal font, and the pulpit, perpetuate the unique taste of the lamented pastor, whose loved name the public mind cannot dissociate from the beautiful building, which, always known as "Starr King's" church, has become his fitting monument.

This is the only church building of this denomination in the city or the State.

Chinese Mission House.—This is a combination church and school-house, new, neat and commodious, fifty-six feet by seventy feet, and three stories high. Adjoining school-rooms, readily thrown into one, rooms for the Superintendent, Rev. Mr. Gibson and family, and for his assistant, Rev. Hu Sing Me, the native preacher, and his family, occupy the various floors. School "keeps" every evening in the week, except Saturday and Sunday. Bible class at half-past ten every Sunday morning, and Sunday school at seven P.M.

The entire property belongs to the Methodist Church, who maintain it as a most efficient home mission.

The Mariner's Church, northeast corner of Sacramento and Drumm streets. It is a neat and commodious wooden building, erected in 1867, by contributions from merchants and other citizens of San Francisco. Rev. J. Rowell, Pastor.

Hospitals and Asylums.

City and County Hospital.—Stands upon the southwest corner of Stockton and Francisco streets.

French Benevolent Society.—Has one of the finest hospitals of the State, a large and handsome brick building, surrounded with pleasant gardens and ornamented grounds, occupying the whole block on the south side of Bryant, between Fifth and Sixth, making a most agreeable and healthful home for the invalid. Others besides French may receive its benefits, by assuming membership and paying its moderate dues.

German General Benevolent Society.—Admits only Germans. It has over eighteen hundred members. On Brannan street, near Third, this society has a very large two-story brick building with basement—furnished with every form of bath, and looking out upon fine gardens and shrubbery.

Protestant Orphan Asylum.—On the West side of Laguna street, between Haight and Waller. A large and elegant building of brick and stone—one of the ornamental landmarks of that part of the city. It accommodates two hundred and fifty little ones. Mrs. Ira P. Rankin, President; Mrs. Lucy Stewart, Matron.

Roman Catholic Orphan Asylum.—Market street, south side, between New Montgomery and Third. A noble and capacious brick building accommodating three hundred and twenty children, and having a school of five hundred and fifty day scholars attached. The Asylum is under the sole management of Archbishop Alemany and the Sisters of Charity.

San Francisco Female Hospital.—Corner of Clay street and Prospect Place. Any woman who is sick and poor, has a right to its benefits. It is a genuine charity, regarding neither nativity, religion nor social rank. Mrs. M.R. Roberts, President; Dr. C.T. Deane, Physician.

Ladies' Protection and Relief Society.—Franklin street, between Post and Geary. The main object of the society is to furnish a real Home for friendless or destitute girls, between three and fourteen years old. Boys, under ten and over three, may be received and provided for until furnished with a permanent home in a christian family. It has over two hundred inmates, nearly all girls. Miss C.A. Harmon, Matron.

Nearly a hundred other public and private benevolent societies attempt to make up, as well as possible, the lack of friends and homes, always so severely felt by strangers or temporary residents in any large city, and especially so in one of as cosmopolitan a character as ours.

Colleges.

Besides the larger public schools, which are really the peoples' colleges—the city has sixty-five colleges and private schools. The number of pupils attending them in 1870 was 4,582, against 21,000 in the public schools.

City College.—Southeast corner of Stockton and Geary streets. This institution has built and furnished an elegant French Gothic building at University Mound, some three miles southwest of the city, which it will occupy early in '72. Besides the usual studies, this college especially provides the best facilities for obtaining a thorough practical knowledge of Chemistry, in all its applications to assaying, mining, medical manufactures and mechanics. Rev. Dr. Veeder, President.

Heald's Business College.—College Building, Post street, between Montgomery and Kearny. Its design is to educate boys and young men, with a special view to practical business. It is one of the famous thirty-six Bryant and Stratton Business Colleges, located in the leading cities of the United States and Canada. Students, two hundred and fifty. E.P. Heald, President.

St. Ignatius' College.—Occupies the noble brick building on the south side of Market street, between Fourth and Fifth. It is largely attended, and is successfully conducted by the Jesuit Fathers.

St. Mary's College.—On the old county road to San JosÉ, four and a half miles southwest of the city. Building, two hundred and eighty feet front, by fifty feet deep—of excellent proportion and fine appearance. Conducted by the Christian Brothers. B. Justin, President.

Toland Medical College.—East side of Stockton street, between Chestnut and Francisco. The building is of brick, capacious, commodious, finely located and admirably adapted to the purpose of its construction. H.H. Toland, M.D., President.

Public School Buildings.

Lincoln.—Fifth street—south side, near Market. Brick structure, four stories high, 141½ feet long, 63½ feet wide; 20 class-rooms 129×34 feet, besides eight wardrobes and teachers' rooms—wide halls, and four broad stairways the whole height, with a large hall in the upper story. It accommodates twelve hundred grammar grade pupils, all boys. In front stands a finely modeled statue of Abraham Lincoln for whom the building was named. Cost, $100,000, gold coin. B. Marks, Principal.

Denman.—Bush street, north side, corner of Taylor. Brick stuccoed; length, 98¼ feet; width, 68 feet; height, four stories, including attic rooms. Fourteen class-rooms, each 28×34, accommodating eight hundred pupils, all girls. Cost, $78,000, gold. This building was named in honor of James Denman, one of the pioneer public school teachers of the city—the founder of this school and for many years, as at present, its principal. Few cities in the Union can show school buildings as elegant, convenient, substantial and costly as these two noble monuments of public appreciation of, and liberality towards, the system which must underlie and sustain our free government if it is to stand at all.

Tehama.—Tehama street, near First. Brick, undisguised; 111 feet long, 75 feet deep, three stories high, besides spacious basement play-rooms—has sixteen class-rooms, each 24×31, hall, 41×49, with ample stairings, and convenient teacher's-rooms and ample yards. Cost, $28,300, gold. It accommodates one thousand primary pupils of both sexes. Mrs. E.A. Wood, Principal.

Besides these, the city has several large and fine wooden school-houses of modern structure. Of these the most sightly, is the Girls' High School, south side of Bush street, near Stockton—57×92, three stories, ten class-rooms, 27×34, with an assembly hall, 54×55; whose length can be increased to 90 feet, by opening folding doors between it and two adjoining class-rooms. It is the most conveniently arranged, best ventilated, sunniest, most cheerful and healthful school-house in the State. Ellis H. Holmes, Principal. To these the Department has recently added, and is now adding, four or five 18 class-room buildings, of wood, each accommodating one thousand pupils, now occupying the old and small school-rooms of early days or hived in unsuitable rented rooms.

Bancroft's Book and Stationery Establishment.

It may appear like exaggeration to say that San Francisco contains the largest and most complete general Book and Stationery, mercantile and manufacturing business in the world. Yet, such is the fact. Not that the business, by any means, equals that of Harpers' and Appletons', of New York, Hachette of Paris, or the stationers of London. But, between these houses and Bancroft's, there is no comparison. The character of their trade is totally different. One publishes books, another manufactures paper, and so each is large in one thing, whereas the Bancrofts, collecting from the manufacturers of all the world, and manufacturing according to the requirements of their trade, cover under one management the ground occupied by all others combined. In older and larger cities, one house deals in law books alone; another, school books, etc., while this San Francisco house—besides a full stock of books in every department of literature, and stationery from the manufacturers of Europe and America, paper from the mills of New England, pencils from Germany, pen-holders from Paris—unite Printing, Book-binding, Lithography, Blank-Book Making, Engraving, &c., every thing, in short, comprised in all the business of all the others.

The detail is necessarily very great. They buy from a thousand sellers, and sell to many thousand buyers. Over one hundred employÉs, divided into nine departments, each under an experienced manager, ply their vocation like bees in a hive of six rooms, each 37 by 170 feet. To the latest improvements of the finest machinery, driven by steam, apply the highest order of skilled labor, and San Francisco can do anything as well and as cheaply as New York, London or Paris.

The retail department, occupying the first floor, has the most magnificent salesroom on the Pacific coast. Visitors are warmly welcomed, and strangers politely shown through the premises.

Private Residences.

For the convenience of the tourist, who may want to see the homes of our city as well as her public buildings and business blocks, we mention the locality of the following, which are among the finest of our private dwellings: Erwin Davis, southwest corner of California and Powell streets; Milton S. Latham, Folsom street, opposite Hawthorne, on Rincon Hill; D.J. Tallant, corner of Bush and Jones street; Richard Tobin, corner of California and Taylor streets; John Parrott, 620 Folsom street. By making two trips—first, over California street, and returning by Sutter or Bush street; second, over Rincon Hill on Folsom street, and returning by Harrison, the visitor may see the finest of our private residences.

Points of Observation.

Telegraph Hill.—This notable natural landmark stands at the head, that is, at the north end of Montgomery street. The early settlement, the pioneer hamlet from which the present city has grown, was made in the hollow near the southwest foot. Civilization has encircled it on the land side, and crept two thirds the way up, while commerce has claimed the water front along its opposite base—but the summit still stands as free as when the priestly fathers first looked thence upon the glorious inland sea, which flashes between it and the sunrise. Let us climb it—this way, straight up the Montgomery street sidewalk, Slowly, please; we have the day before us; exhausted lungs impair one's sight. Stop at the corner of each intersecting street, and glance either way, but especially eastward—that is, downward toward the Bay. Now, "Excelsior," again; up these stairs; now along this natural surface—no asphaltum walks or Stow foundation pavements up here yet, you see—on, by these houses; turn to the left here; now to the right, follow this winding way; patiently please—that's it; only two or three minutes more—ah! here it is—this is the highest point, where the old observatory stood. Sit and breathe a moment; slip on your overcoat, or put that extra shawl about you; it's easy to take cold here, far easier than to rid yourself of it in the city below.

For the sake of method in our survey, we may as well begin at the northwest; thence "swing round the circle," through north, east, south and west, and return to the point of starting. Looking northwesterly, then, we have first the elevated, undulating plateau, which stretches along the flattened summits of the northernmost spur of the broad peninsular hills, and terminates in the precipitous bluff known as Fort Point—the southern gate-post of the far-famed Golden Gate. Through this we gaze seaward along the further margin of the strait, where it sends in a surging cove upon the rocky beach, between Point Diablo and Point Bonita. The projection of the latter point shuts off the vision, which else might range up the northwesterly trend of the coast, along the ocean-shore of Marin county to Punta de los Reyes, (King's Point) which projects southward between Bolinas bay and the ocean. Between Point Diablo and Lime Point, a slight northerly curve, in the shore line makes a shallow cove, from whose edge the vision climbs the successive hills or ridges which fill the ascending space as it roughly rises toward the crowning point of Marin county, Mount Tamalpais, two thousand six hundred and four feet nearer heaven than the beach line whence we set forth. Still following round, we look up into Richardson's Bay; next the southwestern end of Raccoon Strait, and then Angel Island. We are now looking north. Alcatraz, the rocky island which nature set just there to support a commanding fortress; then, an eye-sweep up over the northern part of San Francisco Bay to that narrow strait which joins it with San Pablo Bay; northeast the San Pablo shore of Contra Costa county, and the hills which terminate the Mount Diablo peninsular range. Nearer east, the strangely monotonous hills, whose ridges and gullies look as if plowed out by heavy rains, and rounded by sweeping winds. Grassy or earthy, they look, according to the time of year and kind of season. Now, almost east, the vision falls. This large island, off in the midst of the bay, is Yerba Buena, or Goat Island. It rises three hundred and forty feet above low water mark. Nearly in a line over the island appears Berkeley, the site of the University of California, of which one large building, already two thirds raised, you may possibly discern. A little further south—that is, to the right, you can plainly see the State Asylum for the Deaf and Dumb and Blind. This noble building crowns a gently-sloping eminence just at the margin between the broad and nearly level plain which stretches between it and the bay, and the foothills back of which the Contra Costa mountains bring up the rear.

Almost due east lies Oakland, the tree-city of the beautiful grove-dotted plain. Then Clinton, San Antonio, Brooklyn and Alameda, snuggled in together so closely that one can't tell "which is which;" and, as far as the beauty of the view is concerned, it doesn't matter either, for they are all fair to look upon and lovely to behold. The clustering trees shut out by far the larger portion of the houses, so that we might hardly suspect the size and population of the towns, whose scattered roofs show here and there among the trees.

We are looking southeasterly now. That creek, whose mouth you see just beyond Alameda, leads into San Leandro bay; and right over it, nearly hidden by intervening trees, lies the town of the same name. A little further south, and too distant to be plainly seen, is Hayward's. That depression in the mountain summits beyond, marks the opening of Livermore pass, through which the Western Pacific Railroad finds its way.

Beyond Hayward's, further south, and thence sweeping around to the right, toward the extreme end of the bay, we dimly discern the northern end of the beautiful Santa Clara Valley, where it widens out and flattens down to the bay. We are now looking almost due south. Only four miles down, Hunter's Point shuts off our further view, and compels us to look nearer home. A trifle west of that, and half as far away, the Potrero presents its transverse ridge, fast disappearing under the rapidly-growing city, and showing a gap of daylight where the deep cut of the Bay View horse railroad was relentlessly dug and blasted through, in its stubborn pursuit of a practicable grade. Between the cut and ourselves, the Long Bridge shuts off the Mission bay, and shows where the fast-filling mud-flats will soon crowd back the bay, and make a new water front. Still nearer, we have the western slope or ridge of Rincon Hill, rising gradually to the left, and packed all over with the huddled and mostly wooden houses of the new and hurriedly-built city. Along the inner base of the hill, and stretching out westward, lies the old "Happy Valley." That's just this side of where you see the shot-tower, and runs thence four or five blocks to the right. Between that and ourselves, coming over this side of Market street, we have the oldest and most densely-built part of the city, relieved here and there—by the Occidental Hotel, Tucker's tower, the Merchants' Exchange, Murphy, Grant & Co.'s building, and half a dozen others. Now let the vision range away southwest, again beginning at the hills and coming in. The bounding hills are Bernal Heights, west of which Fairmount and the adjacent hills merge into the peninsular range, and form a rude amphitheatre, within which nestles the fast-growing southwestern precinct. Coming up toward the west, the twin summits of the Mission peaks slant the vision up against the sky, or plunge it into the fleecy billows of in-rolling ocean fog, which seldom survives the warmer air of the inner basin long enough to roll far down their western slope. Between them and us lies the Mission Dolores, grouped around its century-old church. Northward of the twin-peaks the hills rise in "promiscuous prominence." A little south of west, that irregularly conical hill, surmounted by a gigantic solitary cross, is the famous "Lone Mountain," about whose lower slopes, and around whose base are grouped so many "cities of the dead." Thence northerly, to the point whence our survey began, little of note arrests the sight, more than the broad reach of lower hills and sandy dunes, which patiently wait the coming occupation of the westward-growing city.

Although the point beneath our feet is but three hundred feet high, the panoramic view is wider and freer than from any other, even the highest hilltop of the city.

Russian Hill.—About one mile west-southwest from Telegraph Hill, on Vallejo street, between Taylor and Jones street, Russian Hill rises nearly sixty feet higher, but offers little additional prospect. It was formerly surmounted by a sort of cork-screw observatory, a skeleton structure of open frame-work, surrounded by a spiral stairway, whose summit afforded the loftiest lookout within the city limits. West-northwest of this hill, and about three-quarters of a mile from its summit, lies the small lagoon, near which the founders of the early mission first located.

Clay Street Hill.—Nearly south of Russian Hill, and about three furlongs from it, rises this hill, the highest within the city limits. It is named from the street which runs just south of its summit, or will do so when cut through. The hill is 376 feet high, and is a little over a mile southwest of Telegraph Hill. The view from its summit differs only in having moved the point of sight a mile southwest, and raised it about 80 feet.

California Street Hill.—This, too, takes its name from that of the neighboring street. It is hardly proper to call it a separate hill as it is but two blocks south of Clay Street Hill, from which only a slight hollow originally separated it.

Rincon Hill.—Three quarters of a mile southwest of the City Hall. Its highest point reaches hardly a hundred feet above the bay level. The whole hill originally offered such sightly locations for building that it is covered on nearly all sides, and crowded upon its very height, by some of the most comfortable and home-like residences in the entire city. This fact makes it almost impossible to get an unobstructed view, in all directions, from any part of it. It was a favorite, and almost an aristocratic site for residences, until the heartless greed for gain procured legal authority to excavate the famous "Second Street Cut;" 75 feet deep, which needlessly ruined the beauty of the hill.

Lone Mountain.—This singularly symmetrical hill stands two and one-half miles west of the City Hall, at the head of Bush street. It is 284½ feet high. From its summit rises a solitary cross which, especially near sunset, stands forth against the western sky with peculiar, beautiful effect. The view hence is full of inspiration and suggestion. None have caught more of these, or embodied them in finer words than Bret Harte, in his favorite lines:

As I stand by the cross on the lone mountain crest,

Looking over the ultimate sea,

In the gloom of the mountain a ship lies at rest,

And one sails away from the lea;

One spreads its white wings on a far-reaching track,

With pennant and sheet flowing free,

One hides in the shadow with sails laid aback—

The ship that is waiting for me!

But lo, in the distance the clouds break away,

The Gate's glowing portal I see,

And I hear, from the out-going ship in the bay,

The song of the sailors in glee;

So I think of the luminous foot-prints that bore

The comfort o'er dark Galilee,

And wait for the signal to go to the shore;

To the ship that is waiting for me.

Mission Peaks.—The double peaks already mentioned in our panoramic eye-sweep from Telegraph Hill, lying three miles southwest of it, sometimes called the Twin Peaks. They are five hundred and ten feet high, and stand four miles southwest of the City Hall. They are the loftiest points in the county; either summit commands a view which well repays the time and labor expended in gaining it.

Bernal Heights.—This name designates a short range of hills nearly five miles west-southwest of the City Hall. Starting near the bay, they run transversely, that is, westerly, for about one mile across the peninsula. Their highest point is two hundred and ninety-five feet above the bay.

The highest point of the Potrero is three hundred and twenty-six feet above low tide, and the San Miguel Hills, near the southerly line of the county, reach the height of about four hundred feet. The Pacific Heights, near Alta Plaza, a mile and a half west of the City Hall, are three hundred and seventy-five feet high.

These are all the natural elevations of note within the city and county. The best artificial outlooks may be had from the roof of the houses standing on or near the summits of those hills which rise within the settled portion. The roof of Bancroft's building, the cupola of the Grand Hotel, the U.S. Military Observatory, on the southwest corner of Third and Market streets, and the Shot Tower, if you can persuade Mayor Selby to let you up, all afford extensive and beautiful prospects.

Having thus told the tourist all we know about the most feasible and temperate methods of "getting high," we leave him to his own direction, only adding that if he isn't satisfied with our efforts in his behalf, he'd better go "up in a balloon," and view our city as the Germans did Paris.

How to get about.

The universal, inexpensive, always-ready and democratic way is by the ever-present Horse Cars. Seven different companies have laid about fifty miles of rail in and about the city, and carry one either directly to or within a very short distance of any desired point.

Lines, Routes and Colors.—The Omnibus and North Beach and Mission R.R. Companies run yellow cars through Third and Fourth, Sansome, Montgomery and Kearney, the central blocks of Stockton, and the northern ends of Powell and Mason. They also run red cars from the centre of the city to the southwestern limits, through Howard and Folsom streets.

The Central R.R. Co. runs red cars from the steamboat landings along the city front, through Jackson, Sansome, Bush, and other leading streets to Lone Mountain. Their cars are commonly called the Lone Mountain cars.

The Front Street and Ocean R.R. Co. runs green cars from the steamboat landings at the foot of Broadway, up that street, along Battery, Market, Sutter and Polk streets, by Spring Valley to the Presidio, whence busses connect for Fort Point. A branch of this road runs through Larkin street across Market through Ninth to Mission; thus connecting the western with the southwestern suburbs. Within the year this company has also constructed and put into operation another branch, carrying one to Laurel Hill Cemetery and Lone Mountain.

The Market Street R.R., the pioneer, runs blue cars from the junction of Montgomery and Market street, opposite the Grand Hotel, through Market by the San JosÉ Depot, and out Valencia to Twenty-sixth. From the junction of Ninth and Larkin street with Market, it sends a branch out through Hayes Valley to Hayes Valley Pavilion.

The City R.R.—Lately built, and newly stocked, runs from the west front of Grand Hotel, at the junction of Market and New Montgomery, along the latter to Mission, thence out Mission to Twenty-Sixth, passing directly by the entrance to Woodward's Gardens, and within one block of the San JosÉ depot.

The Potrero and Bay View R.R.—Connecting with the North Beach and Mission R.R., at the south end of Fourth street, runs thence across the Long Bridge over Mission Bay—through the Potrero Deep Cut, over the Islais Creek bridge, through South San Francisco to the Bay View Race Track terminus, within half a mile of Hunter's Point and the Dry Dock.

Times, Fares, etc.—Commencing at about 6 P.M., in summer earlier, the cars run at various intervals of from three to seven minutes until 11 and 12 o'clock P.M., and on the City R.R., till 1.30 the next morning. Nearly all the roads sell tickets, having four coupons attached, for twenty-five cents each. Every coupon is good for one fare from one end of the city to the other, and the coupon tickets of one company are received by every other. For single fares, paid without coupons, they usually charge ten cents. Nearly a year ago the City R.R. started the half-dime fare, asking but five cents for a single ride, and the Market street R.R. has also adopted it. "Children occupying seats, full fare."

Several of the companies issue transfer checks entitling the passenger to continue his ride upon any intersecting line without extra charge.

Hacks and Coaches.—For the benefit of those who have occasion to engage any of the above, for the transient service of any excursion lying outside of the regular routes, or beyond the legal limits within which the fixed fare obtains, we subjoin the following legal regulations also contained in the order and section already quoted on a previous page:

"For a hackney carriage, drawn by more than one horse, for four or less persons, when engaged by the hour, to be computed for the time occupied in going and returning, including detention, $3 for the first hour, and $2 for each subsequent hour.

"For a hackney carriage, drawn by one horse, for two persons, when engaged by the hour, to be occupied in going and returning, including detentions, $150 for the first hour, and $1 for each subsequent hour."

It is hardly necessary to remark, yet it may prevent misunderstanding to add, that the above rates pay for the service of the whole carriage, and may be equitably divided among the occupants as they agree.

Livery Service.—The livery stables of the city are numerous, and well-stocked with animals of blood and speed, and every form of two or four-wheeled vehicles from the substantial, three-seated thorough-braced wagon to the elegant or fancy single buggy or sulky. The usual rates, at all first class stables, are five dollars a day, or a drive, for a single team, and ten dollars for a double one. For a very short trip, and a very short time, they frequently abate something, and when a team is engaged for several days or weeks at once, commonly make the rate lower. For saddle horses the price is usually one half that of a single team, that is $250 for a day or drive—subject to similar reductions as above.

On Foot.—If you have the nerve and muscle of a man, and are not sadly out of training, by all means walk through or about the city and around its suburbs. In several places, as, in climbing Telegraph or any other hill, you will have to walk, and then you can. Even our lady visitors might profitably emulate the pedestrian performances of their English sisters. Provide good easy, wide-bottomed, low-heeled walking-shoes, boots or gaiters, and take the beautiful, windless and dustless morning hours for it and, unless your taste is fashionably perverted or your physical energy hopelessly exhausted, you will find it most delightful. Among the Scottish Highlands, or in the Swiss Alps, you would certainly do it, endure it, enjoy it, and subsequently boast of it; why not try it here?

Suburbs and Vicinity.

We suppose the visitor to have fairly rested—to have walked about a little through the more central portion; to have somewhat studied the general plan of the city, in view of the larger or shorter time which he has to spend in the city, to have made up his mind how much he will see, and what it shall be. By way of helping his planning and sight-seeing, we now catalogue and briefly remark upon the more notable points, taken in regular order from the most central starting point. We offer the following pages as helpful suggestions to those who cannot avail themselves of the personal guidance of some resident friend, who can constantly accompany them to direct their route, and verbally explain the details which these printed pages attempt. If one has not time, or does not wish to see anything here set down, he can easily omit it, and from the remainder select whatever he may chose, transposing, combining, modifying and adapting according to his own good pleasure.

GENERAL CIRCUIT OF THE CITY.

Commencing at the foot of Market street, thence southward, along or over the water front, continuing around the entire city and returning to the point of starting. Also mentioning more distant points visible to the spectator looking beyond the suburbs:

The Lumber Yards, Wharves and Merchant Fleet, first attract our notice. Millions of feet of boards, plank and timber from the northern coast of this State and from Oregon, ranged in immense piles on broad and deep piers—alongside of which the schooners, brigs and barks of the lumber fleet are constantly discharging.

Thence along Stewart or East street, the latter being nearer the water, by large lumber-yards, boat-shops, blacksmithing and ship-chandling establishments, we reach the California and Oregon S.S. Co's wharves and slips. The Folsom street cars run within five short blocks; nearer than any others.

Black Diamond Coal Company's Pier.—Barges, sheds and piles of coal, straight from the bowels of Mount Diablo, corner Spear and Harrison streets, P.B. Cornwall, agent.

Rincon Point, foot of Harrison street. The wharves and filling have quite obliterated the old shore line, which originally turning a short corner here, received the name "Rincon," which, in Spanish, means simply a corner.

U.S. Marine Hospital, northwest corner of Harrison and Spear.

P.M.S.S. Co.'s Piers, Docks, Sheds and Slips. Waterfront, foot of Brannan and Townsend streets. Piers having a total front of 1200 feet, shed 600 feet long by 250 wide. Steamships over five thousand tons register and docks built especially for them. Capt. W.B. Cox, Superintendent.

Gas Works, corner of King and Second. The other works of the same company, the San Francisco Gas Co., are on Howard street, from First to Beale.

C.P.R.R. Co.'s Freight Pier, Depot and Boat. Foot of Second street.

Mission Bay. Foot of Second and Third streets. The broad cove lying between South street and Potrero; now fast filling in, especially beyond, that is, south of the Long Bridge.

Mission Rock.—Off the foot of Third street. Has a shanty on it. Used for fishing.

U.S. Ship Anchorage.—Between foot of Third and the Mission Rock, and within a quarter-mile radius of the latter. U.S. Revenue Cutters and Coast Survey vessels, chiefly occupy it.

Steamboat Reserves.—In the docks between Third and Fourth and the adjacent ones along the south side of the bridge.

Long Bridge.—From the foot of Fourth street, across Mission Bay to Potrero—one mile. Will become Kentucky street, when the filling-in makes a street of what is now a bridge.

Yacht Club Building.—East side of Long Bridge, one third across. Yachts at moorings near.

Potrero.—The point at the south end of Long Bridge. Spanish for pasture ground. Originally a rocky ridge. Fast disappearing under houses.

Glass Works.—Pacific Glass Works, corner Iowa and Mariposa streets, four blocks west of bridge.

Pacific Rolling Mill.—Potrero Point, water front, east of bridge.

Deep Cut, is really Kentucky street, brought down somewhere near the future grade, by cutting through the solid rock, to an average depth of 75 feet for nearly a fifth of a mile.

Rope Walk runs under Kentucky street, near the north end of the Islais Creek Bridge, which is the same street continued across Islais Creek, now a solidly planked bridge, seven eighths of a mile long.

Italian Fishing Fleet and Flakes, on the right of the bridge, along the cove-beach just beyond the rope-walk. Their Mongolian competitors have their boats and beach a little further south.

South San Francisco is the rising land or ridge south of Islais Creek. It is a pleasant suburb, rapidly growing.

Catholic Orphan Asylum, that large, new wooden building fronting on Connecticut street, nine blocks west of the bridge.

Hunter's Point is the east end of South San Francisco, a rocky point in which the Dry Dock, dug out of the solid rock, four hundred and twenty-one feet long, one hundred and twenty feet wide at the top, and sixty feet wide at the bottom, which is twenty-two feet below mean high water. With the Floating Dock, near by, it cost two millions of dollars.

Bay View Race Track, near Railroad Avenue, a mile southwest of Islais Bridge. One mile around; broad, smooth and hard. Bay View House at north margin, near west end.

Visitacion Point and Valley, three quarters of a mile beyond the race course; worth driving out to see, if you have plenty of time.

San Bruno Road unites with this railroad avenue about half a mile beyond the race course; brings one back near

New Butchertown, corner of Islais Creek Canal and Kentucky street.

Drive back this old San Bruno Road, until you come to Twenty-sixth street; along that to Mission; down Mission to Seventeenth, out which you may drive until you find your way winding and climbing up and over the east slopes of the peninsular hills along the Ocean House Road, a broad, hard track, leading over the hills to the house which names it. Opposite Twenty-fourth street is the toll gate, where you pay twelve and a half, or twenty-five cents, according to your team. A mile beyond, a side gate, free, admits you to a carriage-way through the fields, leading down, three quarters of a mile, to Lake Honda, the huge double-reservoir of sloping-sided masonry, covered with cement, and holding thirty-five million gallons. This well merits a visit. The City Almshouse stands on the hill, half a mile south of the lake.

The Small-pox Hospital is the small building standing alone on the hill, a third of a mile north of the Almshouse.

Returning to, and resuming the main road, a mile southwesterly and then westerly, brings us to the Ocean Race Course, securely enclosed, and having the usual circuit and surface.

Opposite this, and half a mile south lies Lake Merced, three quarters of a mile long by a fifth of a mile wide. That part of it nearer to, and parallel with the road, is a smaller, nearly separate lake called simply "the Lagoon."

Ocean House, on a slight sandy knoll, half a mile northwest of Lake Merced.

Pacific Beach.—This is the sandy shore of the "ultimate sea," stretching almost exactly north two miles to the base of the cliff, up which a well-built road carries us a score of rods northwesterly to the

Cliff House, the grand terminus, or at least way-station of all ocean drives. Its broad, covered piazza, well-furnished with easy chairs and good marine glasses, has been for years the popular observatory whence fashion languidly patronizes the Pacific, or gazes with momentary interest upon the

Seal Rocks—three hundred feet from the shore, and dotted with lubberly seals, clumsily climbing upon the lower rocks, or lazily sunning themselves above.

Farallones—Twenty-five miles seaward from the Cliff House—seven sharp-pointed islets break the monotony of the western horizon. The highest of these rises three hundred and forty feet, and has a large lighthouse of the first-class, with the finest Fresnel light on the coast.

Point Lobes, a precipitous coast bluff, a third of a mile north of the Cliff House, chiefly noted as the site of the Signal Station; provided with a fine glass and the usual outfit of a marine observatory. Thence along the beach, or the brow of the bluff, if you like climbing, by the Helmet Rock, whose shape hardly appears from the land, around the curve of the shore, whose general direction here is northeast, a full mile, to

Fort Point, where stands a doubly-strengthened and heavily-mounted fort, yet unnamed, whose chief interest founds upon its general resemblance to the famous Fort Sumter.

Lighthouse.—The northwest angle of the fort supports a substantial tower, showing a fixed white light. From the walls of the fort, or better still, from the lighthouse balcony, we look upon and across the

Golden Gate, the connecting strait between the Pacific Ocean and San Francisco Bay. It is between three and four miles long, from one to two miles wide, and over four hundred feet deep.

Lime Point, the northern inside gate-post—the southeastern extremity of Marin county.

Point Bonita.—The outer or oceanward point of the northern shore, nearly two miles west of the fort, crowned with a lighthouse.

Mountain Lake—One mile south of the fort, and sending a little rivulet called Lobos Creek westward into the Pacific, which it helps to replenish.

Presidio—Spanish for garrison or barracks. This is nearly a mile southeast of the fort, as we return toward the city. Its main features are the extensive barracks, accommodating several hundred U.S. soldiers, who make this their point of arrival and departure in going to or coming from the different stations to which they may be ordered. Forming the parallelogram front is the parade ground, a broad, open field, gently falling toward the bay, surrounded by the officers' quarters or the barracks, and dotted with batteries here and there.

Black Point.—The water front at the foot of Franklin and Gough streets.

Pioneer Woolen Mills—Corner of Polk and Reade streets. Office, 115 Battery street.

North Beach—From the foot of Powell street west to Black Point.

Angel Island, three and a half miles north of Black Point, across the bay.

Alcatraces Island—A mile and a half north of North Beach, off in the bay, heavily fortified, commanding the Golden Gate.

North Point—Water front, foot of Kearny street, corner of Bay street.

Sea Wall—Water front from the foot of Union street, southward; a sloping bulkhead of rubble, faced with heavier rock, costing $240 a linear foot, and a mile and a half long.

Ferries.—Alameda—Corner of Davis and Pacific street. City Front Cars.

Oakland—Same dock, next slip south. City Front Cars.

Saucelito—Meiggs' Wharf, foot of Powell street. North Beach cars.

San Quentin—Davis street, near Vallejo. City Front or Sutter street cars.

Vallejo—Corner of Front and Vallejo. City Front or Sutter street cars.

HOW TO SEE SAN FRANCISCO AND ITS SURROUNDINGS.

Brief trips, or short excursions, requiring but a few hours each. Short skeleton tours in and about the suburbs, suggesting the most interesting points, with the walks, rides, drives or sails by which one may reach them—the time required and the best hours of the day, the amount of walking necessary, with the conveniences and cost.

IN AND ABOUT THE CITY.

I. Walk up Montgomery street to Telegraph Hill. If you don't feel like climbing clear to the top, follow the foot-path which winds around about two thirds up its east and northeast slopes. If you go to the top you can go down into—or if you take the lower path you will come round into, Lombard street. Walk down that to Powell; turn to your right and follow Powell north to the water and Meiggs' wharf, down the wharf if you want the bay breeze, and the bay sights from a lower level; come back—take the South Park cars; ride up Powell by Washington Square, up Stockton, down Washington—get out at the upper corner of the Plaza, walk diagonally across, notice the old City Hall on your left, stroll up Kearny to California or Bush, down which you descend one block to Montgomery.

II. Chinese Quarters.—Sacramento street, from Kearny to Dupont, along Dupont to Pacific, down Pacific to Stockton, to Jackson, down Jackson to Kearny; cast your eyes down the little alleyways and courts which cut up the blocks along these streets. Look at these signs! "Hop Yik, Wo Ki, Tin Yuk, Hop Wo, Chung Sun, Cheung Kuong, Hang Ki, Yang Kee, Shang Tong, Shun Wo," that last wouldn't be a bad one to go over the door of "civilized" rum-hole. "Wing On Tsiang, Wung Wo Shang, Kwong On Cheang," and scores of others. Most are personal names, some are business mottoes. They are generally phonographic, that is, you pronounce them according to their spelling. Here and there one suggests fun. For instance, "Man Li." Well, why not a Chinaman as well as a white man? Has the superior race the monopoly of lying? That sign is certainly creditable to the Chinese female; it says Man Li; not woman lie. Not far thence a very appropriate successor finishes the logical sequence, "Hung Hi." Certainly, why not? That's what ought to be done to any merchant who will lie. Any Man Li, should be "Hung Hi." These celestials certainly have no bad idea of the eternal fitness of things. What would happen to our Melican merchants if that rule were rigidly applied? It would'nt be much trouble to take the next census. This is the out-door glance by daylight. If you want a more thorough exploration by day or by night, call on special officer Duffield, (George W.) at 1,107 Montgomery street, who knows their haunts and ways, and can show you all you'll care to see. His long experience among them has also acquainted them with him to such a degree, that they allow him to enter and pass through their houses and rooms whence another might be shut out. In fact, he is their special officer, paid by the Chinese merchants to guard their property, and is emphatically the man to have for an escort. He can take you into their gambling saloons, into their pigeon-hole lodging houses where rag-pickers, beggars and thieves fill the air with opium smoke, then shove themselves, feet foremost, into a square box of a pigeon-hole, more like a coffin than a couch. He can guide you into crooked, narrow, labyrinthine passages through which you can just squeeze, and which you could never find nor enter without guidance; into inner courts, around which, and in the midst of which, stand old rickety, tumble-down, vermin-haunted hives of wooden tenements which rise through three or four stories, all alive with the swarming lazzaroni, packed into the smallest and dirtiest of rooms, and huddled into every dark and filthy corner.

These are the lowest and worst of their race; the infernal celestials, among whom the officer will not take a woman at all, and where it would not be safe for any man to attempt entrance alone. The approaches are so ingeniously constructed and so artfully disguised, and the passages wind among each other so intricately, and intersect each other so perplexingly, that not one in a thousand could ever find the beginning, and hardly one in ten thousand could discover the end.

"For ways that are dark,

And for tricks that are vain,

The heathen Chinee is peculiar;

Which the same I would rise to explain."

The stranger must not conclude, however, that such as these make up the bulk of the Chinese who come to us. On the contrary, these are the lowest and vilest, the dregs and settlings of their social system; no more fit to be taken as samples of their nation than the low, whisky-drinking, shillaly-swinging, skull-cracking, vote-repeating Irish, who now govern New York, are to be taken as fair types of the "finest pisantry undher the sun," or considered as a representative of the educated Irishman, than whom a warmer-hearted, freer-handed, more courteous-mannered gentleman one can hardly meet in a thousand miles.

So the middle classes of the Chinese are cleanly, sober, industrious and honest, while their leading merchants, of whom we have several fine representatives in the city, are models of business integrity and social courtesy. Enter one of their establishments, with proper introduction, and you shall encounter the most perfect politeness throughout the interview, and carry away the impression that you were never more heartily welcomed and generously entertained, according to their custom, of course, by any strangers, in your life.

And one very notable thing should also be said of their street deportment; you may walk through their quarter every day and night for a month, and not see a single drunken man of their own race. If you encounter one at all, he is likely to belong to the "superior race."

Your survey of the Chinese quarter would be incomplete without a visit to their temples or joss houses. One of these stands off Pine, just above Kearny. They are also used as hospitals.

Should you wish any souvenir in the shape of their peculiarly ingenious manufacture, you may find them at the Chinese or Japanese bazaars.

III. Third Street.—Five and a half blocks to South Park; thence three blocks to the water; along Channel street to Long Bridge. Here we may take the Bay View cars, ride across the Mission Bay, visit the Rolling Mills, or keep on through the Deep Cut, over Islais Creek bridge, through South San Francisco, to Bay View track, whence 'busses carry us to Hunter's Point and the Dry Dock. Best time, morning, unless some ship is going into dock on the high tide. Fare in 'bus, twenty-five cents each.

IV.—Water Front—South of Market.—Walk along East or Stewart St., by U.S. Marine Hospital, to P.M.S.S. Co.'s ships and docks and C.P.R.R. Freight piers and depot. Thus far no cars. At foot of Brannan take cars, ride up that to Third, down Third, by South Park, to Howard—along Howard to Second, along Second to Market again. Or you can walk from the water up Second to Market again. Or you can walk from the water up Second through the cut to Harrison, climb the bridge-stairs, walk down Harrison to First or Fremont, turn left, and come back by the Shot Tower, Foundries, and Factories to Market.

V.—Water Front—North of Market.—No cars here. Stroll northerly by the corners of the different streets, along the heads of the different piers, among the grain and produce boats, river steamer docks and ferry slips, around to North Point, with its bonded warehouses, iron clippers, and sea wall, thence back Sansome to Broadway, whence cars take you again to the centre.

VI.—Southwestern Suburbs.—From corner west front of Grand Hotel, take city cars out Mission, by fine new church, new Mint, to Woodward's Gardens; thence to Sixteenth; up that three blocks, westerly, to Dolores street, where stands the old Mission Church, the site of the first permanent settlement of San Francisco; out Dolores; south two blocks, to Jewish Cemeteries; back by same way to Sixteenth; down that to Mission Woolen Mills; thence home by Folsom street or Howard street cars, either of which brings you to Market street.

VII.—Western Suburbs and Beyond.—From Montgomery up Sutter, by cars, or up Bush by feet or wheels. Either street carries you westerly to Laurel Hill, in which elegant monuments and mausoleums merit more than passing notice; thence east three blocks to Lone Mountain and the cemeteries grouped about its base, and upon its lower slopes—the Odd Fellows', west; the Masonic, south, and the Calvary north and east. Out the Cliff House Road—you'll need horse probably, or can take the 'bus for 25 cents each way—by the Race Track or Driving Park, to the Cliff House; look at the Seal Rocks, Seals, Ocean and Farallones; thence south along Pacific Beach to Ocean House, whence in by Ocean Road or the new Central Road by Lake Peralta and Lake Honda. The old Ocean Road brings you back through the Mission; the new one, in by Lone Mountain again.

VIII.—Northwestern Suburbs and beyond.—Up Geary, Post or Sutter to Van Ness Avenue; thence twelve blocks north through Spring Valley, by cars from Broadway west to Harbor View, Presidio and Fort Point. Returning from the Presidio, keep towards the Bay; come around by Black Point, whence, skirting the water-front through five or six rough blocks, you reach the foot of Mason or Powell street, and find other cars waiting to bring you home.

The routes above suggested, are by no means exhaustive, but will take one to or near the most noted points. If the tourist can have the personal guidance and escort of some well-posted friend, so much the better. In the absence of such friend, or even to accompany him, we respectfully submit our little pocket substitute.

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