The streets were few in number then, not more than fifteen or twenty, as the town, at the time of which we are speaking, had only a population of about five thousand people.  As San Francisco grew, however, under the impetus which the discovery of gold gave to it, the streets were naturally multiplied; and, to overcome the mire in wet weather and also the sand of the dry season, which made it difficult for pedestrians to walk hither and thither or for vehicles to move to and fro, they were planked in due time.  Wooden sewers were also constructed on each side of the street to carry off the surface water.  A plank road besides ran out to Mission Dolores, the vicinity of which was a great resort on Sundays, especially in the days when “bull fighting” was a pastime and the old Spanish and Mexican elements of the population had not been eliminated or had not lost their prestige.

As one went to and fro then and encountered men of all nationalities, it was not an uncommon thing to meet many who had the look of desperadoes, whose upper garment was a flannel shirt, while revolvers looked threateningly out of their belts at the passerby.  All this of course, was changed after a time, when the days of reform came, as they always come when the need arises.  There is an element in human society which acts as a corrective, and wrong is finally dethroned, and right displays her power with a divine force and a vivid sweep as a shaft of lightning from the sky.  We need never despair about the triumph of the good.  It is a noble sentiment which Bryant utters in “The Battle Field:” 

  “Truth crushed to earth shall rise again: 
    The eternal years of God are hers;
  But Error, wounded, writhes in pain,
    And dies among his worshippers.”

And never was there a community or a city where Truth asserted her sway more potently in the midst of evil than in San Francisco in the trying days of her youth.  With the rush from all lands to California for the coveted gold came the lawless and the blood-thirsty.  Men in the gambling houses would sometimes quarrel over the results of the game or over some “love affair.”  Fair Helen and unprincipled, gay, thoughtless Paris were here by the Golden Gate.  The old story is constantly repeating itself since the Homeric days.  Duels were fought betimes as a consequence, and the issue for one or both of the combatants was generally fatal.  Gambling in those days was, from a worldly stand-point, the most profitable business, that is for the professional player or the saloon-keeper.  Indeed it was looked upon as quite respectable.  It has a strange fascination at all times for a certain class, with whom it becomes a passion as much as love for the wine-cup, and one must be well grounded in principle to resist its influences.  Many once noble souls who had been tenderly brought up were led astray.  Away from home and its restraining associations, gambling, drinking, and other sins and