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. Stebbins delivered a fine oration; there was a poem, of course; but the especial feature was a military and naval spectacle, elaborate in character.

The fortifications around the harbor and the ships available were scheduled to unite in an attack on a supposed enemy ship attempting to enter the harbor.  The part of the invading cruiser was taken by a large scow anchored between Sausalito and Fort Point.  At an advertised hour the bombardment was to begin, and practically the whole population of the city sought the high hills commanding the view.  The hills above the Presidio were then bare of habitations, but on that day they were black with eager spectators.  When the hour arrived the bombardment began.  The air was full of smoke and the noise was terrific, but alas for marksmanship, the willing and waiting cruiser rode serenely unharmed and unhittable.  The afternoon wore away and still no chance shot went home.  Finally a Whitehall boat sneaked out and set the enemy ship on fire, that her continued security might no longer oppress us.  It was a most impressive exhibit of unpreparedness, and gave us much to think of.