a straggling beach of huts and stranded hulks, but to the earlier stages of its development into the metropolis of California.  Its first tottering steps in that direction were marked by a distinct gravity and decorum.  Even during the period when the revolver settled small private difficulties, and Vigilance Committees adjudicated larger public ones, an unmistakable seriousness and respectability was the ruling sign of its governing class.  It was not improbable that under the reign of the Committee the lawless and vicious class were more appalled by the moral spectacle of several thousand black-coated, serious-minded business men in embattled procession than by mere force of arms, and one “suspect”—­a prize-fighter—­is known to have committed suicide in his cell after confrontation with his grave and passionless shopkeeping judges.  Even that peculiar quality of Californian humor which was apt to mitigate the extravagances of the revolver and the uncertainties of poker had no place in the decorous and responsible utterance of San Francisco.  The press was sober, materialistic, practical—­when it was not severely admonitory of existing evil; the few smaller papers that indulged in levity were considered libelous and improper.  Fancy was displaced by heavy articles on the revenues of the State and inducements to the investment of capital.  Local news was under an implied censorship which suppressed anything that might tend to discourage timid or cautious capital.  Episodes of romantic lawlessness or pathetic incidents of mining life were carefully edited—­with the comment that these things belonged to the past, and that life and property were now “as safe in San Francisco as in New York or London.”

Wonder-loving visitors in quest of scenes characteristic of the civilization were coldly snubbed with this assurance.  Fires, floods, and even seismic convulsions were subjected to a like grimly materialistic optimism.  I have a vivid recollection of a ponderous editorial on one of the severer earthquakes, in which it was asserted that only the unexpectedness of the onset prevented San Francisco from meeting it in a way that would be deterrent of all future attacks.  The unconsciousness of the humor was only equaled by the gravity with which it was received by the whole business community.  Strangely enough, this grave materialism flourished side by side with—­and was even sustained by—­a narrow religious strictness more characteristic of the Pilgrim Fathers of a past century than the Western pioneers of the present.  San Francisco was early a city of churches and church organizations to which the leading men and merchants belonged.  The lax Sundays of the dying Spanish race seemed only to provoke a revival of the rigors of the Puritan Sabbath.  With the Spaniard and his Sunday afternoon bullfight scarcely an hour distant, the San Francisco pulpit thundered against Sunday picnics.  One of the popular preachers, declaiming upon the practice of Sunday dinner-giving, averred that when he saw a guest in his best Sunday clothes standing shamelessly upon the doorstep of his host, he felt like seizing him by the shoulder and dragging him from that threshold of perdition.