Even varied by glimpses of the Mexican coast, the occasional
appearance of a whale with its column of water thrown high into the
air, and the sportive action of schools of porpoises which is
constantly met with, the passage was slightly monotonous. On the
twenty-third day from New York we ended the voyage at San Francisco.

On arriving in California I was surprised at the number of old
acquaintances I encountered. When leaving New York I could think of
only two or three persons I knew in San Francisco, but I met at least
a dozen before being on shore twelve hours. Through these individuals,
I became known to many others, by a rapidity of introduction almost
bewildering. Californians are among the most genial and hospitable
people in America, and there is no part of our republic where a
stranger receives a kinder and more cordial greeting. There is no
Eastern iciness of manner, or dignified indifference at San Francisco.
Residents of the Pacific coast have told me that when visiting their
old homes they feel as if dropped into a refrigerator. After learning
the customs of the Occident, one can fully appreciate the sensations
of a returned Californian.

[Illustration: MONTGOMERY STREET IN HOLIDAY DRESS.]

Montgomery street, the great avenue of San Francisco, is not surpassed
any where on the continent in the variety of physiognomy it presents.
There are men from all parts of America, and there is no lack of
European representatives. China has many delegates, and Japan also
claims a place. There are merchants of all grades and conditions, and
professional and unprofessional men of every variety, with a long
array of miscellaneous characters. Commerce, mining, agriculture, and