The house in which I have passed my time since I came to the city is one occupied by Rev. Mr. W., in the suburbs--soon to be the heart of the city. Across the street from us are some canvas tents, and below these a shed-house, in which is kept a restaurant; then comes a house made of hides stretched over a frame, and still lower down are more tents, adobe and frame houses, containing men, women, and children from all parts of the world. And there below me extends, far away, the noble bay, covered with its ships from all nations, to which new arrivals are daily added. Throngs of people, horses, wagons, oxen, carts, and mules, are ever passing. And this moment there goes toward the “Presidio” a heavy piece of ordnance. Here follow two merry young Americans on horseback, each with a gayly-dressed sigñorita before him, both without bonnets, and laughing merrily; and hear those glad and happy shouts of children! Stretched away before me is the world of San Francisco--and what a world! How the tide of human life flows and dashes upon its shores! Crowds every day arrive, and other crowds every day leave. Old friends meet, exchange a few words, and hasten on to the shrine of _Mammon_. Multitudes die, the waves close over them, and they are forgotten. It can hardly be supposed that people come to California _to live_, since they are here only _preparing to live_--much less do they come here _to die_. I pray that my life may be spared till I return to a land of friends, and where man is united to man by the sympathies of life! The indifference of a class of the population here even to the lives of others, was illustrated by the grave-digger, who has generally to dig eight or more graves in a day, but yesterday only having three ordered, he cursed the Yankees for cheating him out of half his day’s earnings.