204 MULE-HUNTING EXPEDITION. 



Francisco, and thence by stage to San Jose. 

 Past experience had taught me, whenever pos- 

 sible, scrupulously to avoid stage travelling. 

 Being tossed in a blanket, or rolled down a steep 

 hill in a cask, produce much the same bruised 

 and general state of sprain and dislocation as 

 a day's ride in a stage. Choosing the steamer 

 lessened the chance of jolting by quite one-half, 

 at the same time affording a good opportunity 

 of seeing the famed Bay of San Francisco. 



I embark at seven from a wooden pier early 

 as it is, alive with the hum, buzz, and bustle of 

 the awakening city and steam away over the 

 un rippled waters of the bay. The temperature is 

 delicious; a few fleecy clouds are swept rapidly 

 over the clear blue sky by a light breeze blowing 

 softly from the land, laden with the perfume of 

 wild flowers and forest trees. A run of a few 

 hours brought us to the embarcadero, or landing, 

 at the head of the bay, from whence a stage 

 bumped me over the road about four miles, to 

 the old town of San Jose. 



Pueblo San Jose stands at the entrance of a 

 lovely valley. The town consists of a collection 

 of adobe houses; a few in the main street are 

 built of wood, painted white, with brilliant green 

 jalousies outside the windows. The older houses 



