We arrived off the Golden Gate, late at night, Dec. 14th, only four days out from Portland; but the sea was still so rough, that we feared to venture in. Next morning, however, when the mist broke away a little, we up steam and headed again for San Francisco. We had a tough time getting in, nearly as bad as getting out of the Columbia. We had to combat a strong wind dead-ahead, and to wrestle with a heavy sea. But, nevertheless, our good ship held on her course bravely; and at last, weathering Point Reyes, and rounding Fort Point, we steamed up past frowning Alcatraz, and with booming cannon dropped anchor at the Company's wharf. The storm we had encountered was reported as one of the worst known on the coast for years, and we were glad once more to touch _terra firma_, and strike hands with a live civilization. In a half hour we were ashore and at the _Occidental_, a hostelry worthy of San Francisco or any other city. And so, we had reached California at last. All hail, the Golden Gate! And 'Frisco, plucky, vain young metropolis, hail! Bragging, boasting, giddy as you are, there is much excuse for you. Surely, with your marvellous growth, and far-reaching schemes, you have a right to call yourself the New York of the Pacific Coast, if that contents you. FOOTNOTE: [14] Though since scourged severely by fire, (1873), she has vindicated herself well by prompt and general rebuilding, like Chicago. CHAPTER XVII. SAN FRANCISCO.