THE POPULATION was fifty-six thousand in 1860, according to the National Census, but it is now _three times_ as great. It is, of course, composed of people from all parts of the world, but chiefly from the United States. A large proportion of the population are the Chinese. These people are small in stature, yellow in color, pagan in religion, ingenious, industrious, inoffensive, cowardly, low-lived, filthy, and ugly as toads—creatures to which they bear a striking family resemblance. They work at any and every thing, many of them doing housework, washing and ironing, and the like. I remember seeing the following names of “Orientals” on their business signs: Wo Hop, Hung Gee, Cum Lum Sam, Sam Lee, Wo Lee, Wo Wing, Ah Sing, Wing Wo, Yek Wa. These distinguished gentlemen from the Orient, (or rather, to one in California, from the Occident) were all extensively engaged in the laundry business. There are but few negroes in San Francisco. I do not think I saw a dozen while there. THE MONEY in circulation in the “Golden City” is only silver and gold. No paper money of any kind is seen. EARTHQUAKES are a luxury which this city indulges in occasionally. We had one gentle shock while I was there. A few years ago they were favored with one that did much damage, and scared many of the inhabitants out of a year’s growth: and in October, 1868, they had one still more severe. Slight shocks are quite common. San Francisco is one of the greatest fruit, vegetable, and grain markets in the world. During my sojourn in San Francisco, I was employed as “Funny Man” of a well-known literary paper, the “GOLDEN CITY;” and shortly after my arrival I published an article, under a _nom de plume_, in which I touched up some of the peculiarities of the city as they presented themselves to me, in the following manner: “CAT’S-EYE VIEW OF SAN FRANCISCO. BY O. JOB JONES. “One morning, shortly after my arrival in San Francisco, I strolled out to take a view of the city as it was and is—the clerk of my hotel having kindly informed me that it was ‘piled up all around us.’ “I first directed my steps to the post-office, where, making my way up to the ‘J’ window, I modestly inquired if there was any letter for O. Job Jones? The clerk without looking, informed me that there wasn’t. Wondering how he found it out, I asked if there were any newspapers? Yes, wrong as it was to annoy him with so many foolish questions, I did.” “What was his reply? “I will tell you. “The truth of the matter was, the steamer hadn’t been in more than twenty-four hours, and the papers had not yet been distributed. This the clerk _might_ have informed me, in calm, gentlemanly and comprehensive language: but, did he? No. Such a course would have been inconsistent with his dignity. Here’s the way he answered me; he says—and that in a rude tone that startled me—says he: “‘YOU’D BETTER WAIT TILL THEY’RE DISTRIBUTED FIRST, HADN’T YOU!’