San Francisco

The directions for entering the port of San Francisco that have been heretofore followed, being found incorrect, we give room to the correction of them, with which Capt. E. A. King  politely furnished us, together with regulations of the port:

Directions for Entering the Harbor of San Francisco

In making the northern entrance, called Sausolito, keep the Fort and the island of Yerba Buena in one; in coming from the south and making the southern entrance, keep the island of Alcatrazes or Bird Island, touching the Fort. After the Fort bear south per compass, steer due east, (true) to avoid the flats which are making out from Belona's beach. No danger can be apprehended from Blossom Rock. In running into this harbor after passing the Fort, and having it bearing (true) south, good anchorage can be obtained from five and a half fathoms to three fathoms. At present there are no buoys, but in the latter part of next month there will be buoys on Blossom Rock, Anita Rock, on the shoals on the N. N. W. part of the harbor, and on the bank making out from Belona's beach. High water at Yerba Buena or San Francisco full and change 10 hours 34 minutes. Rise of spring tides 9 feet, neap tides 3 feet. Latitude of the Fort 37 deg. 48 min. 30 sec. N.; Longitude 122 deg. 27 min. 24 sec. W. Variation 15 deg. 36 min. E.

EDW. A. KING, Harbor Master.

September 27, 1849.

Regulations for the Harbor and Port of San Francisco

Art. 1st. On the arrival of Merchant vessels at the port of San Francisco, a proper berth will be pointed out to the masters thereof, by the Harbor Master, when he boards them; and no master of a Merchant vessel shall shift his berth without permission from the Harbor Master, unless in case of extreme emergency, when he must report his having done so as early as possible at the office of the Harbor Master.

Art. 2d. Should it be the intention of a master of a vessel to discharge or receive on board any considerable quantity of merchandise, a berth will be pointed out to him as close to the landing places as the safety of the vessel and other circumstances will permit.

Art. 3d. After a proper berth has been pointed out, the master will then moor his vessel with two bower anchors across the tide, with thirty-five fathoms chain cable, with buoys attached in summer months, and fifty fathoms from the hawserhole in winter. December, January, February and March to be considered the winter months.

Art. 4th. If any vessel properly moored in the harbor shall have her anchors or cables over-laid by any other vessel in anchoring or mooring, the master or person having the care or direction of such last mentioned vessel, shall immediately, or as soon as may be after application made to him by the party aggrieved, cause the said anchor or cable so overlaying to be taken up and cleared.

Art. 5th. When any Merchant vessel may be lying in a berth convenient for discharging, and she shall have completed her unlading or lading, such vessel shall, at the request of the Harbor Master, remove to a place designated, should her berth be required by any other vessel which may desire to load or discharge.

Art. 6th. Merchant vessels arriving with powder on board, must on arrival, report the same to the Harbor Master, in order that a secure berth may be pointed out.

Art. 7th. No ballast will be allowed to be thrown overboard. Any ballast which may be wanted to discharge, by application to the Harbor Master, a place of discharge will be designated, and any vessel requiring ballast, instructions will be furnished on application.

Art. 8th. All difficulties arising between ships relative to the foregoing rules, shall be settled before the Harbor Master.

Art. 9th. Disobedience to the orders of the Harbor Master, in the discharge of his duty will subject the offender to a fine of fifty dollars, to go towards the Hospital Fund, of the town of San Francisco.

Art. 10th. After mooring, ships must rig in jib and flying jib-booms.

Art. 11th. Forty-eight hours notice to be given at the Custom House before clearing.

Art. 12th. No fire arms to be discharged in the Harbor under penalty of Article 9th.

Approved :—

THOS. AP C. JONES, Comdr. U. S. N.
Edw. A. King Harbor Master.

San Francisco

"AUNTY," said Willie at my elbow, "we are waiting for you. You know we arrived at San Francisco yesterday, and we want to hear about it now." So I went down to my little flock of listeners.

We stayed at the "Lick House" on Montgomery Street,—

"Lick House!" cried Harry. "What a funny name! What made them call it so?"

It was named for a Mr. Lick, who built it. It is a very nice hotel, and we were very glad to be again on land.

It took our friends but a short time to find out we were there; for we received some calls before we had our bonnets off, and they continued to come until bedtime. Beds!—how delightful to get into a real bed again after being so long in berths; for though, on the Constitution, grandpa and grandma had a bed, I had my narrow shelf.

The next day was the Sabbath. We attended Rev. Mr. Lacy's church in the morning, and heard Rev. Mr. Bartlett of Santa Cruz preach. In the afternoon, we went out to the "Mission Dolores," to the installation of Rev. Mr. Beckwith. We were glad to arrive in California in time to see him installed, and it was pleasant for grandpa and Mr. Beckwith to meet again; for the latter was once the President of Oahu College in the Sandwich Islands. All day Monday, friends came to see us, and were so cordial and kind that it did our hearts good.

Tuesday afternoon, thanks to a kind friend, we went to ride. How delightful it was to be in a carriage again, on a good road, with fine horses, after our imprisonment on board ship! Some of the streets are paved with planks, some partially so; others are very sandy, while some are hard and smooth. We rode over the hills southwest of San Francisco, where we got a fine view of the city and parts of the bay. I had expected to find San Francisco a level place; but it is just the reverse; for it is built on several very high hills. They have been slashed and cut into unmercifully, which greatly injures the looks of the older part of the city. We had a fast trot on the beach near the Ocean House. What a surf! White-crested billows came roaring and tumbling in, seeming as if ready to ingulf us. We passed a poor shattered fragment of a recent wreck, now almost imbedded in the sand, and it made me shudder to think of being wrecked on that cruel shore. It was a vessel but a little smaller than the one we were to sail in; and I sent up a silent petition to our heavenly Father to save us from such a calamity. Our good friend often stopped the carriage to pick us wild-flowers, which were beginning to fringe the roadside, and told us that only a few weeks hence these hills would be rainbow-hued with countless blossoms. Roses grow here in the gardens all the year round, and bouquets graced our table while we remained. On our way back, we rode through the "Mission Dolores," the seat of an old Catholic mission, and stopped at the church, an ancient looking adobe building, with a tiled roof like the Panama houses. We peeped in; then walked through the burying-ground adjoining, where bloomed a great variety of flowers, among them some beautiful tea-roses. I wanted very much to pick just one; but I saw a notice as I went in, asking us not to do so; and I thought if every visitor plucked even one rose, there would soon be none left. Late in the evening, a beautiful bouquet was handed me, and beside it was one fair, white, exquisite rosebud, which my kind friend said he brought me because I was so good at the burying-ground. You see how much more enjoyment I had over my beautiful flowers, because I refrained from despoiling the grave.

The next day, February 11, we bade good-by to our friends, and went down to the wharf. Some of our fellow-voyagers still continued with us, going on to China, after leaving us at the Sandwich Islands. We went off in a boat to our clipper ship Archer, and were hoisted over the vessel's side in a chair, with the Union Jack wrapped round us.

"What's the Union Jack ?" asked Willie.

It is a blue flag with white stars. How strange it seemed!—the little boat below me, and the black ship's side near, while I went up, up, up, swung over the rail, and was let down on deck, landing in a group of my fellow-passengers. That was the way they all came. The wind blew hard, and we dragged our anchor; so the vessel "dropped down," as the sailors said, to the lower part of the city, near Meig's wharf. Here we remained two days, while a storm raged outside the Golden Gate.

Friday, February 13th, we started again, and just after the pilot left us, we were becalmed on the bar, just opposite the terrible breakers I had seen while riding. Here we anchored. The sea was rough and disagreeable, and our captain longed for a stiff breeze to take us out; for it was not a very safe place to be in. Early in the night, we were glad to hear the chain-cable taken on board, and to know that we were actually on our voyage after so many delays.

"Aunty," said Carrie, "I have frequently read of ships 'crossing the bar;' what does it mean?"

There is often a place at the mouth of a river, or at the entrance of a harbor or bay, where the sand is washed up in a sort of bank, making the water shallow just there, so that large ships have to wait until high tide, or when the water is deepest over those sand-banks or bars, to come in.

There were seventeen passengers on board; but we were not all of us on deck together for six days, because the sea was so very rough in consequence of the storm, by which we had been detained in San Francisco Bay. On the 19th of February, we got into the trade-winds, which gave us a steady breeze in the right direction, and for two days we had twenty-eight sails set most of the time. I longed to be where I could get a good view of the ship with so many sails out; for I thought she must look finely.

We had a Chinese steward on board—

"What does a steward  do on a ship?" interrupted Harry.

He takes charge of the table and provisions, and often acts as cook. He had a hard time in securing the dishes; for notwithstanding the racks, the vessel rolled so that knives and forks slipped off as if they had wings. Racks are narrow strips, an inch or two high, upon each edge of the table, and two in the middle, with about a foot's distance between them. These keep the dishes in place when it is rough. It really did seem as if the worst rolls came while we were at meals; I suppose we noticed them more then. Sometimes there was a general slide, and the passengers would seize a tea-cup with one hand, or a vegetable-dish, or a chicken, while all held on by the table with the other.

Thursday night, the 26th of February, found us off a headland on the island of Oahu, and there we spent our first quiet night since leaving San Francisco. There was a buoy near us, marking the channel. It looked like a square plank, and was anchored with a bell upon it, which, as the waves rolled it back and forth, tolled with a mournful sound.

But there's a bell that doesn't sound mournful. It says, "Come to tea!"

From Panama to San Francisco

"AUNTY, where are you?" cried little Alice, and then a gentle knock on my door reminded me that it was four o'clock. "We are all ready waiting in the sitting-room, and Fanny Mason is there, too, because she wants to hear our stories. You are willing; an't you, aunty?"

Oh, yes, Alice, any of your friends may come that wish. So I took my little pet's hand, and went down to my waiting group to tell my story.

We had beautiful summer weather, and quite forgot that it was January. On the 29th we passed a distant volcano, and early in the morning saw the smoke at its summit. The name of the volcano is Colenso, and it is in Guatemala. It was first seen in the night, and our men sent up a rocket as a signal, supposing it to be the light of another steamer, but they soon saw their mistake.

The coast is mountainous all the way to San Francisco; we kept it in sight nearly all the time except when crossing the Gulfs of Tehuantepec and California. The sea was almost invariably smooth.

We arrived at Acapulco, in Mexico, Saturday, Jan. 31, at daybreak; having sailed 1,440 miles in six days. As grandpa and grandma were not going on shore, I had not thought of doing so; but quite a party of our acquaintance went, and I was invited to join them. I was glad to go; for I longed to step on Mexican soil.

We had a native boat and four rowers. The sail was a very pleasant one, and we were soon on the low, sandy beach. Part of the town was destroyed by an earthquake two years ago; but the adobe houses are so simply constructed that they can be rebuilt with little difficulty.

"What are adobe  houses?" asked Carrie.

Houses built of hardened clay. They take a mold like the sides of a box with the bottom out, and press it full of mud; when turned out, it looks like a great mud brick, and is left for the sun to dry.

We went up to the market-place, where the Mexican women, children, and dogs were all huddled together, with their wares spread out in most tempting array; coral, colored with most brilliant dyes; shells of various kinds, some on long strings like necklaces, and some single and highly polished. Fruits were plenty,—bananas, granadas, oranges, and limes. We had our chocolate and eggs ordered; but just at that moment, boom!went our ship's cannon to recall us, so we had to go back without our breakfast; but we took some beautiful flowers and a few shells. The forts had been bombarded by the French about a month before, but looked as if they were little injured. The harbor is small, but one of the finest on the whole Pacific coast. The native boys swam out to the ship, and would dive for silver coin thrown to them. It was astonishing to see how far down in the water they would go for it, and almost invariably get it. Then they would put it in their mouths, and be ready for another. One boy, the quickest of the lot, must have had a dozen pieces in his mouth at one time.

A shark and a devil-fish came near the ship—

"A devil-fish !" the children all exclaimed; "why, what sort of a fish is that?"

It is very large, having a pointed head with projecting fins of great breadth, triangular and resembling wings, making the fish broader than it is long, even including the tail. The encyclopædia says one was caught in the Atlantic, off Delaware Bay, in 1823, which was so heavy as to require three pairs of oxen, a horse, and several men to drag it ashore. It weighed about five tons, and measured seventeen and a quarter feet long, and eighteen feet broad; the skin was blackish-brown, and underneath, black and white; its mouth was two feet nine inches wide, and the skull five feet. One was captured in the harbor of Kingston on the island of Jamaica, which had strength enough to drag three or four boats fastened together at the rate of four miles an hour. The mouth of this one was four and a half feet wide, and three feet deep, large enough to contain the body of a man.

The day after we left Acapulco was the Sabbath, and we had service in the saloon in the morning, which made it seem quite like a home Sabbath, and many were delighted to have a "real Sunday." A table was covered with an American flag; this was the pulpit. The Bible was laid on it, and grandpa preached. We sat around on the saloon sofas. The captain could not attend, as we were nearing the town of Manzanilla. Just as the sermon was finished, we stopped before that picturesque village. I believe the town proper is inland. The few houses on the shore looked very neat, being white-washed, making a very pretty contrast with the deep green of the lofty hills beyond.

After two hours' sail from Manzanilla, we passed the wreck of the steamer Golden Gate, which was burned some time since, causing the loss of so many lives. Vessels are stationed there to procure treasure from the wreck, and we received from them more than two hundred thousand dollars to carry to San Francisco.

One of our officers was on the Golden Gate when it was burned, and he told some thrilling stories of the disaster. A great many strong, grown people were drowned in the terrible surf; yet one little baby, only six weeks old, floated safely to the shore. God took care of her, you see. The men carried her by turns, as they walked their weary way over the mountains to Manzanilla, and fed her with scraped potato, a barrel of potatoes having washed ashore.

How many sorrowful feelings were called up by the sight of that one wheel lying on the beach; for that is all that is left of the ill-fated Golden Gate! How many lives were lost in those peaceful waters over which we were sailing so pleasantly! Our officers told us that it was just such a bright, beautiful day; but the surf here is very high, and with our glass we could see it foaming and tossing on the beach. In our hearts many of us thanked God for our present safety, and prayed him to save us from such a fate. Just before we neared the wreck, we passed by some rocks on the coast, looking just like a ruined castle, with beautiful green trees all around them, as if it were a nobleman's garden.

It is not easy to keep the Sabbath properly on one of these ocean steamers; for little distinction is observed in the days by the crew. We did, however, the best we could. It seemed more like the Sabbath in the evening, when a goodly number of us collected together in the saloon, and sung hymns and tunes, just as many of us would have done were we in our loved homes, so far away. That night we commenced crossing the Gulf of California, and all day Monday we saw no land. Almost every evening we walked upon the upper deck, which was a very fine promenade three hundred and seventy feet long.

Tuesday we saw Cape St. Lucas, which you know is the end of the long peninsula of California, and were in sight of the shore all the way after that. I was constantly surprised at the grandeur of this western coast, with its magnificent chains of mountains, rising peak above peak, and fleecy clouds resting on their summits. There was no break in these chains all the way to San Francisco. I heard them called the backbone of America, and they are among the grandest works of the Creator. After passing Cape St. Lucas, we had colder weather.

But I must not forget to tell you of my going around the ship, with the commodore, when he was "inspecting" it. Grandma was not well enough to go, but grandpa and I went. How I wish you could have peeped with me into all the cupboards and utensils, and have seen how neat every thing was,—the dishes were so white, the glasses so clear, and the tins so bright! The commodore rubbed his fingers inside of a kettle, and if they were the least bit soiled, it would have to be done over again. On one shelf was a great pile of loaves of bread. We went into the slaughter-room, to see the butcher's establishment; it was as clean and sweet as a kitchen. The little lamb, three days old, was brought out for my amusement, and doubtless pleased its mamma very much by showing off, and saying "baa," like a dutiful child! What a funny party we were, the portly commodore with your small aunty leaning on his arm, he sliding through narrow doors sideways, pulling me after him; then tall grandpa, and our little thin surgeon following in his train! I asked the head steward to tell me how much he cooked every day for all on board. We had about five hundred passengers, beside officers and crew. He told me fifty gallons of soup, fifty pounds of mutton, ninety pounds of pork, four hundred and seventy-five pounds of beef, sixteen pounds of ham, twenty-four chickens, ten turkeys, eight hundred pounds of potatoes, two barrels of flour, making two hundred and twenty-five loaves of bread, fifty pies, forty-five pounds of butter, five pounds of lard, five pounds of cheese, and ten gallons of milk. Just think what a great boarding-house our steamer was!

On the 7th of February, we entered the "Golden Gate" of California, and about four o'clock were at the wharf at San Francisco.

"The Golden Gate !" said wee Alice, in astonishment, "They don't really have a golden gate; do they?"

We all laughed at the little one's earnestness, and then I told her it was only a narrow entrance to San Francisco Bay, perhaps a mile wide between the headlands.

"Well, what do they call it so for?" said she.

I suppose because a great many who went to California thought they would get a great deal of gold, and as they all went through that narrow entrance, it was called the Golden Gate.

"Supper, supper," here cried grandma. "Don't you hear the bell?" and again it sounded its merry summons to tea.

San Francisco, Cal. [The “City of the Golden Gate”; said by some to have been named for the old Spanish mission of San Francisco de Assisi, by others to have been named for the founder of the order to which Father Junipero, the discoverer of the bay, belonged.]

It is grandly situated at the north end of a peninsula thirty miles long, separating the Pacific Ocean from San Francisco Bay, two thousand four hundred and thirty-four miles west of St. Louis, and three thousand four hundred and fifty-two miles from New York. The city lies mainly on the shore of the bay and on the steep hills rising from it, but is gradually extending across the peninsula (here six miles wide) to the ocean. On the north it is bounded by the famous Golden Gate, the narrow entrance (one mile across and about five miles long) to San Francisco Bay. The commercial part of the town is fairly level and lies along the bay. The chief business thoroughfare is Market Street, three and one-half miles long, with which the streets from the north and west hills intersect. This feature gives the city a striking skyline.

San Francisco Bay, a noble sheet of water, gives San Francisco one of the finest harbors in the world and affords numerous charming excursions. It gives the city much of its commercial importance, also, and extends from Fort Point past the city in a southerly direction for about fifty miles, varying in width from six to twelve miles. Northward this bay connects by a strait with San Pablo Bay, ten miles in length, having at its northerly end Mare Island and the United States Navy Yard.

Across the bay are Oakland, Alameda, and Berkeley.

In 1906 a large part of the city was destroyed by earthquake and fire, the estimated loss reaching over three hundred million dollars. The business district has since been largely rebuilt, and many costly buildings of marble, granite, and terra cotta, and iron and steel-framed “skyscrapers” have been constructed. Before the earthquake of 1906 the most conspicuous public buildings were the City Hall, erected at a cost of six million dollars, and which occupied twenty-five years in building; the Post Office, completed at a total cost of five million dollars; the Hall of Justice, the Custom House, a Mint and a Sub-treasury; the building of the Society of California Pioneers, and stock and merchants' exchanges; and the Ferry Building containing a display of the mineral resources of California.


The Panama-Pacific International Exposition at San Francisco was open from February 20 to December 4, 1915. The total attendance was 18,871,957. The last day made the record, 458,558 persons having passed through the turnstiles. The Fine Arts Palace remained open until May 1, 1916.

Market Street, the chief business thoroughfare, extends to the southwest from the Union Ferry Depot, a handsome structure, with a tower two hundred and fifty feet high, to a point near the twin Mission Peaks, a distance of about three and one-half miles.

Following Market Street towards the southwest, at the intersection with Battery Street is the Labor Monument, a vigorous bronze group dedicated to the memory of Peter Donahue of the Union Iron Works. At the southwest corner of Market and Montgomery Streets stands the Palace Hotel, opposite which is the Union Trust Building, the first of the buildings whose steel and concrete frame withstood the fire. Close by, at the corner of Montgomery and Post Streets, are the Crocker Building, another survivor, and the new stone structure of the First National Bank.

At the corners of Kearney and Third Streets rise the Chronicle Building and the tall Spreckels or Call Building, the top of either of which affords a good bird's-eye view of the city.

Market Street, towards the southwest from the Chronicle Building, contains many large office buildings, including the tall Humboldt Savings Building. At the corner of Fourth Street is the Pacific Building, a huge structure of re-enforced concrete, with a facade of green and brown tiles. In the same block is the Emporium, which has been rehabilitated since the disaster of 1906. On the right, at the corner of Powell Street, is the large Flood Building, another survivor of the fire. It is chiefly occupied by railway offices.

Powell Street leads to Union Square, with the St. Francis Hotel and a Naval Monument commemorating the exploits of the United States fleet in the Philippines during the war with Spain (1898).

At the junction of Market Street with Mason Street is a monument commemorating the admission of California to the Union (1850). To the left, at the corner of Seventh Street, we catch a glimpse of the long frontage of the Post Office with its fine granite carvings. Just beyond this corner, in a small triangular park, is the large Californian Monument, presented to the city by James Lick. The stately monument erected in honor of the achievements of the navy in the Spanish-American war remains uninjured.

The district containing the United States Appraisers Stores and the large new Custom House was spared by the great fire.

The United States Branch Mint, in Fifth Street, at the corner of Mission Street, contains interesting machinery and a collection of coins and relics. The effect of the fire may be clearly seen on the granite at the north end of the building.

Montgomery Street and the southern part of Sansome Street, form the center of the banking district. On the former is the Union Trust Building, and a series of large office buildings, of which the most important are the Mills Building, corner of Montgomery and Bush Streets; the Merchants Exchange, California Street, near Montgomery Street; Kohl Building, corner Montgomery and California Streets; Italian-American Bank, a one-story building with Doric columns, corner Montgomery and Sacramento Streets; and the Bank of Italy, corner Montgomery and Clay Streets. At the northeast corner of Sansome and California Streets rises the tall Alaska Commercial Building, with the handsome Bank of California opposite.

Nob Hill was the name given about 1870 to that section of California Street, between Powell Street and Leavenworth Street, containing many of the largest private residences in San Francisco. Most of these were of wood, and no expense was spared to make them luxurious dwellings, but with unfortunate architectural results. Few relics of these are now extant. The hill is crowned by the huge Fairmont Hotel, opposite which is the Hopkins Institute of Art.

The present fashionable residential quarter is on Pacific Heights, including the western parts of Jackson Street, Washington Street, Pacific Avenue, and Central Avenue.

The educational institutions of San Francisco, include the Academy of Sciences, endowed by James Lick; the Hopkins Art Academy, situated on Nob Hill; Memorial Museum, in Golden Gate Park; Mechanics' Institute, which contains property valued at two million dollars, and a library of seventy thousand volumes. Other fine libraries are the Sutro library of two hundred thousand volumes, the public library of one hundred thousand volumes, while the California Historical Society, San Francisco Medical Society, the San Francisco Law Library; the French and Mercantile libraries all have collections of more than thirty thousand volumes. The California School of Mechanical Arts, Cooper Medical College, Cogswell Polytechnic School, College of Notre Dame, Sacred Heart Academy, Irving Institute, the medical and law faculties of the University of California, are also located here.

The city was always conspicuous for its fine churches. The most prominent of these were the Roman Catholic Cathedral, the Jesuit Church of St. Ignatius, and the Mission Dolores, a survival of Spanish occupation.

The largest of the city parks is Golden Gate Park, covering more than one thousand acres and redeemed from a waste of sand-dunes, now one of the most beautiful in the country. It extends from Stanryan Street to the Pacific Ocean, a distance of three miles. Its fine trees and shrubbery, semi-tropical plants and flowers, artificial lakes and Japanese tea gardens combine to make it a veritable wonderland. Through the park a broad, smooth, and well-kept speedway runs out to the ocean beach, and the famous old Cliff House, the Sutro Heights, on the hills of the west or ocean side, from which is a magnificent view of the Seal Rocks and Pacific Ocean.

To the north of the park, beyond the intervening Richmond district, lies the Presidio, the United States military reservation. Here are the harbor fortifications with their big and powerful rapid fire machine guns, the officers' quarters with picturesque gardens and hedgerows, and the hospital and barracks for the soldiers, while down at the water's edge is old Fort Mason, a circular brick structure now used as a storehouse.

The population is very heterogeneous, every European nationality being represented here, to say nothing of the Mexicans, Chinese, Japanese, Negroes (relatively few), Filipinos, Hawaiians, and other non-European races.

The Chinese Quarter, rebuilt since the fire, is still one of the most interesting and characteristic features of San Francisco. It lies, roughly defined, between Stockton, Sacramento, Kearney, and Pacific Streets, and now consists mainly of large modern store buildings in a modified Oriental style, and of tall tenements, swarming with Chinese occupants. Chinatown contains about ten thousand inhabitants.

To the north of Chinatown, spreading about the base of Telegraph Hill, is the so-named Latin Quarter, peopled by Italians, Greeks and Mexicans. Their houses, shops, and restaurants are most characteristic. The Japanese Quarter is bounded by Van Ness, Fillmore, Geary, and Pine Streets.

In the pretty park that separates busy Kearney Street from Chinatown, the beautiful golden galleon monument to Robert Louis Stevenson still stands.

San Francisco as the western terminus of the great continental railroads and of many short lines, has important steamship communication with the ports of the world. The bay is accessible to the largest vessels. It is one of the most important grain ports in the United States; and gold and silver, wine, fruit, and wool are exported. There are large sugar refineries, foundries, shipyards, cordage works, wood factories, woolen mills, and many others.

A Spanish post and mission station were established on the site of San Francisco in 1776. The mission was secularized in 1834, and a town was laid out in 1835. A United States man-of-war took possession of it in 1846, and it became an important place in 1849 on account of the discovery of gold (1848). It was devastated by fires, 1849-1851. In 1850 it was incorporated as a city. The original name of the place was Yerba Buena (Spanish, “good herb”). It was changed to San Francisco in 1847. In 1869 railway connection was established with the eastern United States. In 1877 Denis Kearney began a violent agitation against the competition of Chinese labor. This was known as the “sand lots” movement, from the name of the place where the meetings were held. On April 18, 1906, the city was visited with a severe shock of earthquake, and the resultant fires destroyed much of the business section and one-third of the residence portion of the city.

Berkeley, across the Bay from San Francisco, is the seat of the Colleges of Letters and Science of the University of California. The University, founded in 1868, has played a very important part in the educational development of California and of the Pacific Slope. Its other departments are at San Francisco and the Lick Observatory, with the great telescope, is at Mt. Hamilton.

A number of the buildings at Berkeley are handsome, and the picturesque grounds, two hundred and fifty acres in extent, command a splendid view of the Golden Gate and San Francisco. The very interesting open-air Greek Theater, built in 1903 on the general type of the theater at Epidaurus, accommodates twelve thousand spectators and is used for university meetings, commencement exercises, and concerts. The museums, the library, and the laboratories are admirably adapted to their uses.

At Palo Alto, thirty-four miles south of San Francisco, one mile from the station is the Leland Stanford, Jr. University, founded by Mr. and Mrs. Leland Stanford in memory of their only son and endowed by them with upwards of thirty million dollars. The buildings were mainly designed by H. H. Richardson, who took the motif of their architecture from the cloisters of the San Antonio Mission. The material is buff, rough-faced sandstone, surmounted by red-tiled roofs, producing brilliant effects of color in conjunction with the live oak, white oak, and eucalyptus trees outside, and tropical plants in the quadrangle, and the blue sky overhead. In the earthquake of 1906 the buildings suffered severely, the damage done being estimated at nearly two million dollars. Much, however, has been restored or rebuilt. The buildings include a low quadrangle, enclosing a court five hundred and eighty-six feet long and two hundred and forty-six feet wide, with a beautiful colonnade on the inner side; an outer, two-storied quadrangle, with cloisters on the outside; a Chapel; various dormitories; an Art Museum; a mechanical department; and a village of professors' houses.