204 MULE-HUNTING EXPEDITION. 
Francisco, and thence by stage to San José. 
Past experience had taught me, whenever pos- 
sible, scrupulously to avoid stage travelling. 
Being tossed ina 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 ina 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 
unrippled 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 José. 
Pueblo San José 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 
