Francisco and Los
Angeles by the good steamer _Governor_. We arrived at San
Francisco Sunday, March 6th, after a rather rough trip, on which I
did not miss a meal. After breakfast Mrs. F. and I, with three
fellow-passengers, went to Sutro Heights and then to Golden Gate
Park. The seals were still sleeping on the rocks or bobbing about in
the water as of old. Sutro's gardens were a disappointment, as they
seemed to have been allowed to go to decay. Of all the beautiful
statuary representing the gods and goddesses of ancient Greece and
Rome, all were in a state of dilapidation--arms, legs and heads
broken off and covered with moss and dirt. Many of the glass houses
in the gardens were in a like state. We did not stay long there, but
took cars for Golden Gate Park, which is kept up by the Government
and everything is kept in a perfect state of repair. Beautiful
avenues of tropical trees, flowers in profusion, statues of public
men of the past, and then the museum. This had the most attractions
for me, as there were many interesting things to inspect, of which
more anon. On the down trip we took on board at San Francisco a party
of seven gentlemen who were going to Los Angeles for a holiday,
consisting of a judge, a lawyer, a doctor, a manager of an
electric light company, two merchants, and last but not least, a
blacksmith, all members of a singing society. These gentlemen gave
us several most enjoyable little concerts. We arrived at Redondo on
March 8th and took cars for Los Angeles soon after arrival, and were
in Los Angeles about two o'clock. I must confess I was not impressed
with San Francisco, for while there were some very handsome, ornate
and very high buildings, especially in the burned area and on Market
Street, there were alongside the new buildings the cellars of former
fine buildings filled with debris of the buildings destroyed by
quake or fire, also whole blocks boarded up and covered with
advertisements, behind which were piles of broken masonry and twisted
steel. I went along Montgomery to Kearney Street, up Clay to Powell
and found very little change from what I left in 1859. The Plaza did
not seem the least altered.

In 1855 my brother one day remarked that the street above Powell had
had no name long enough, and, as we lived in it, he took the liberty
of naming it. There was a box with "Taylor's" soap or candles printed
on the cover lying on the ground, and taking a saw he cut the Taylor
in two, nail