"Numberless vessels, mostly from the United States, filled the bay, in front of San Francisco, many of them being deserted by their crews, and unable to procure others to take their places. On landing, I had to clamber up a steep hill, on the top of which, and opposite to where I stood, was a large wooden house, two stories high, and scarcely half finished. In the rear of this, rose another and a steeper hill, whose slopes were covered with a multiplicity of tents. To my right, ran a sort of steep, or precipice, defended by sundry pieces of cannon, which commanded the entrance to the harbor. I next came to the 'Point,' and, crossing it, found myself within the town.
"The first objects that attracted my notice were several canvas houses, measuring from ten to forty feet square, some being grog-shops, others eating establishments, and the larger set apart as warehouses, or places of storage. The proprietors of the latter were making enormous sums by the accommodation their tents afforded to the hundreds of travellers who were arriving every day from different parts, and who, being extremely embarrassed as to what they should do with their luggage, were heartily glad to find any safe place to store it in, and content to pay for the convenience.
"The spectacle which the beach presented from a convenient opening, whence I could comprise the whole at a glance, was singularly interesting and curious. A crowd of individuals, in motley garb, and of every variety of race, might be seen pressing eagerly upward towards the town, jostling and pushing one another, in their anxiety to be first, yet looking eagerly about them, as if to familiarize themselves at once with the country of their adoption. Here were dandies from the United States and from France, picking their steps mincingly, as they strove to keep pace with the sturdy fellows who carried their luggage; their beaver hats, fashionable frock-coats, irreproachable and well-strapped pantaloons, exciting the derisive remarks of the spectators, the majority of them 'old Californians,' whose rough labor at the 'diggins' had taught them to estimate such niaiseries at their proper value. By their side stalked the stately and dignified Spaniard, covered with his broad-brimmed, low-crowned sombrero, and gracefully enveloped in his ample serapa, set off by a bright scarlet sash. He turns neither to the right nor to the left, nor heeds the crowd about him, but keeps on the even tenor of his way—though even he has occasionally to jump for it—presenting, in his demeanor and costume, a striking contrast to the more bustling activity of the Yankees, who are elbowing every one, in their anxiety to go a-head. A lot of shopboys, too—mere lads, as spruce and neatly attired as though they had just stepped out of some fashionable emporium, mingle with the rest, and, as they enter the town, strike up the popular parody—
'Oh, California. That's the land for me!
I'm bound for the Sacramento, with
The wash-bowl on my knee.'
And presently, their brother-adventurers, excited by hopes of the wildest kind, join vociferously in chorus, in the exuberance of their joy.
"A group of Englishmen, muscular in form, and honest in feature, are chaffering with the keen-witted Yankee porters for the carriage of their luggage. There is an air of dogged resolution about them, that plainly indicates they will not submit to what they evidently consider an imposition. Such a sum for so slender a service! Well, then, they can carry their baggage themselves: so they will; and, quickly shouldering it, some depart in the track of the rest, whilst two or three remain behind, to watch what is left, until their friends return. They are manifestly well known to one another, and seem to be almost intimate; the voyage has made them friends.
"Here come a number of Chilians and Peruvians, and a goodly number of natives from the Sandwich Islands. A couple of Irishmen, too! I know them by their vivacity, and by the odd trick they have of getting into every body's way; to say nothing of their broad, merry faces. Their property is in common, it seems; for they have only one small pack between them.
"Here come ten or a dozen plainly but comfortably dressed mechanics; hard-working men they seem, and just the sort of persons to make their way in a country where the artisan occupies his proper position, and where honest toil—and dishonest, too, sometimes—is almost certain to reap a harvest. Far differently will you fare, and far preferable, too, will be your lot, in regions where privation is the rule, to that of many amongst your numerous fellow-travellers, unaccustomed as they are to laborious occupations—with frames uninured to fatigue, and constitutions unhabituated to scanty fare, to exposure to heat and cold, and wet and sudden changes! Whilst you are succeeding in your object, they will grow wearied, disappointed, and home-sick, and long to be back again on the theatre of their former struggles.