SAN FRANCISCO. 165 
greatest disadvantage, as I saw it, is one of the pleasantest 
cities in the world. It is the least American city in the 
States, and yet it has all that is good of American institu- 
_ tions. Cosmopolitan of course it is. Every morning I had 
’ my boots blacked by an African, my chin shaved by a 
European, and my bed made by an Asiatic; a Frenchman 
’ cooked my dinner, an Englishman showed me to my seat, an 
Trishman changed my plate, a Chinaman washed my table- 
napkin, and a German handed me my bill. But of this 
delightful city I will not say a word; an old college friend of 
mine has already given the public so vivid a sketch of San 
| Francisco, so full of thought, vigour, and truth, that nothing 
_ remains for me but to render to Mr. Dilke my best congratula- 
tions on the complete success of his delineation. 
| At the end of the seventh week, my own party arrived by 
sea from San Pedro; two days later, another came in from 
the 35th parallel; and the next morning, when I went from 
my hotel, the Cosmopolitan, to hear the latest news at the Oc- 
, eidental, in came five of the shabbiest-looking fellows I ever 
saw. Their couts were torn, their caps washed into shapeless 
mushrooms of felt, their faces tanned and bearded, and their 
figures covered with mud; these were Palmer, Colton, 
~ Calhoun, Parry, and Willis; all my old friends had arrived 
together. What Sofipretalatetn we had! How we startled 
| the “Frisco” dandies who were languidly perusing the 
morning papers; with what determination they (Palmer and 
party, not the dandies), sat down to breakfast while the 
waiters covered the table with the choicest fare of the best 
~ hotel in the ‘States; and how they enjoyed that first ‘‘ square 
meal” of civilization! | 7 
' The festivities, the convivialities, the cocktails, and the 
_ punches which followed, soon instilled new life into me, and 
