“I am also pleased with the elevated points around;[[5]] they give a man a chance to rise in the world, without principle, capital or reputation. Besides, one of them would be such a fine start for a monument. One might be topped out on Telegraph Hill, for instance, with very little expense; and in a graphic description of it, it might be stated that the top was five hundred and twenty-three feet above tide-water. No allusion need be made to the bottom.
“Among other peculiarities of San Francisco, I perceive that the blacking of boots and shoes is done by grown-up adult men, and that they have regular establishments for the accommodation of the customer. This is a grand idea. The customer not only has a comfortable seat to sit in while his brogans are being rubbed down and shined up, but he also enjoys the luxury of a shelter, which is ample protection against the heavy summer rains and winter snows, which, I believe, prevail very extensively here.
“Pardon me if I make any blunders in giving my views of San Francisco.[[6]]
“I have perceived, in the course of my perambulations, that they were moving Kearny street further up the hill.[[7]] I didn’t like to ask any questions concerning it, lest I should be considered green; but I supposed that the reason was that it had slid down at the time of the earthquake here, a few years ago.
“I have heard so much about the rough state of society here, that I am surprised and delighted to find that law and order are as strictly observed here as in any city of the States. From what I have heard in times gone by, I was led to anticipate that I should hear a bullet whiz every time I should step from my door, and that I should find a fresh dead man lying at every corner. I am glad to find, however, that the streets are entirely clear of such obstructions, and that men are not killed here, except in cases of absolute necessity. I highly approve of this orderly state of things. I don’t deny that it is quite a pleasant pastime to a new beginner to help kill a man or two each week; but, as is the case with every other enjoyment, the novelty soon wears off, and one gets tired of it.”
I carried a letter of introduction from a gentleman in Philadelphia to Mr. J. M. Foard, of the “Golden City,” San Francisco, and was very cordially received.
“Mr. Foard,” I said one day, shortly after my arrival, “I am very fond of the water——”
“Not as a beverage, I hope,” he interrupted.
“Not as a regular beverage; but as a medium of navigation. I love riding on the water. I would like to go out and take a row.”
“Where?” he asked.