a world of reality.  This, I may say, was my only experience of the kind, in all my travelling over the Southern Pacific Railway, the Sante Fe, and the Mexican International and Mexican Central Railways.  There was little sleep after the interruption; and when the morning came with its interest and novelty I was ready to proceed across the Bay of San Francisco.  Our faithful porter, John Williams, whose name is worthy of mention in these pages, as I stepped from the Pullman car, said, “Good-bye, Colonel!” He always addressed me as “Colonel.”  The porters on all the western roads and on the Mexican railways are polite and obliging, and a word of commendation must be said for them as a class.

The Rev. Dr. James W. Ashton, of Olean, N.Y., my fellow-traveller, and I were soon in the ferry house.  We ascended a wide staircase and then found ourselves in a large waiting room, through whose windows I looked out on the Bay of San Francisco for the first time.  Off in the distance, in the morning light, I could catch a glimpse of the Golden City of the West.  Near by was a departing ferryboat bound for San Francisco.  Just then a young man, evidently a stranger, accompanied by a young woman, apparently a bride, accosted me and asked the question, “Sir, do you think we can get on from up here?” Looking at the bay-steamer fast receding, I assured him, somewhat pensively, that I thought we could.  In a few moments another steamer appeared in view and speedily entered the dock.  The gates of the ferry house were opened and we went on board at once.  Most of the passengers at this early hour were those who had come across the Sierras, but there were a few persons from Oakland going over to their places of business in San Francisco.  Oakland, so named from the abundance of its live-oaks, has been styled the “Brooklyn” of San Francisco.  It is largely a place of residence for business men, and from fifteen to twenty thousand cross the Bay daily in pursuit of their avocations.  It is pleasantly situated on the east side of the Bay, gradually rising up to the terraced hills which skirt it on the east.  The streets are regularly laid out and lined with shade trees of tropical luxuriance as well as the live-oaks.  Pretty lawns, green and well kept, are in front of many of the houses in the residence part of the city, and here the eye has a continual feast in gazing on flowers in bloom, fuschias, verbenas, geraniums and roses especially.  At a later day I visited Oakland, and found it just as beautiful and attractive as it looked in the distance from the deck of the ferry boat.  It has several banks, numerous churches, five of our own faith, with some twelve hundred communicants, also good schools, and some fine business blocks.  Trolley cars conduct you through its main streets in all directions.  Landing at the Oakland pier, one of the largest in the world, and extending out into the Bay some two miles from the shore, the Southern Pacific Railway will soon carry you to the station within the city