which is but two miles. Decoto is one of the "going to be" towns. At present it exists chiefly in the future tense. Nine miles still between the rolling foothills on the right and the almost level plains stretching away bayward, brings us to
San Lorenzo,
Which presents nothing of special note beyond a quiet, restful-looking town, quite refreshing to the tired and dusty tourist. Thence four miles, and
San Leandro,
Town and creek, arrest our train for sixty seconds. The court house, jail, a large agricultural implement factory, with several stores, one or two hotels and a newspaper, invest this pleasant town with all the dignity of a comfortable county seat. Seven miles from San Leandro, is
Brooklyn,
A thriving, go-ahead town of two thousand inhabitants nights, and about seventeen hundred by day, when a good seventh of its denizens are away at their business in San Francisco. Thence a short two miles, and we stop again at
Oakland,
The tree-embowered city named by nature, and chosen by man for charming homes and quiet halls of learning.
Moving once more, and for the last time, we steam by the hedges, gardens, cottages and mansions along the southwest suburb, and roll slowly out two miles along a strongly built pier, over the shallow margin of the bay, or the undisguised flats, according to the tide, and "down brakes" for good on the last rails of the great iron way across the continent, and over the waters of another ocean. An elegant ferry-boat, "El Capitan," quickly receives us, and, in fifteen minutes, the San Francisco pier welcomes us to the Occidental metropolis, and our journey is done. Turn, now, to the paragraph on hacks and hotels; let one take you to the other, bathe, eat and sleep, and next morning, hunt up the "Short Excursions in and about San Francisco," and devote yourself to cultivating the Pacific metropolis.