ston was able, daring, and brilliant. In 1864 he organized
the Bank of California, which, through its Virginia City connection and
the keenness and audacity of William Sharon, practically monopolized the
big business of the Comstock, controlling mines, milling, and
transportation. In San Francisco it was _the_ bank, and its earnings
were huge. Ralston was public-spirited and enterprising. He backed all
kinds of schemes as well as many legitimate undertakings. He seemed the
great power of the Pacific Coast. But in 1875, when the silver output
dropped and the tide that had flowed in for a dozen years turned to ebb,
distrust was speedy. On the afternoon of August 26th, as I chanced to be
passing the bank, I saw with dismay the closing of its doors. The death
of Ralston, the discovery of wild investments, and the long train of
loss were intensely tragic. The final rehabilitation of the bank brought
assurance and rich reward to those who met their loss like men, but the
lesson was a hard one. In retrospect Ralston seems to typify that
extraordinary era of wild speculation and recklessness.

No glance at old San Francisco can be considered complete which does not
at least recognize Emperor Norton, a picturesque figure of its life. A
heavy, elderly man, probably Jewish, who paraded the streets in a dingy
uniform with conspicuous epaulets, a plumed hat, and a knobby cane.
Whether he was a pretender or imagined that he was an emperor no one
knew or seemed to care. He was good-natured, and he was humored.
Everybody bought his scrip in fifty cents denomination. I was his
favored printer, and he assured me that when he came into his estate he
would make me chancellor of the exchequer. He often attended the
services of the Unitarian church, and expressed his feeling that there
were too many churches and that when the empire was established he
should request all to accept the Unitarian church. He once asked me if I
could select from among the ladies of our church a suitable empress. I
told him I thought I might, but that he must be ready to provide for her
handsomely; that no man thought of keeping a bird until he had a cage,
and that a queen must have a palace. He was satisfied, and I never was
called upon.

The most memorable of the Fourth of July celebrations was in 1876, when
the hundredth anniversary called for something special. The best to be
had was prepared for the occasion. The procession was elaborate and
impressive. Dr.