On the arrival of the fortnightly steamer from Panama with the mails from the Atlantic States and from Europe, the distribution of letters at the post-office occasioned a very singular scene. In the United States the system of delivering letters by postmen is not carried to the same extent as in this country. In San Francisco no such thing existed as a postman; every one had to call at the post-office for his letters. The mail usually consisted of several wagon-loads of letter-bags; and on its being received, notice was given at the post-office at what hour the delivery would commence, a whole day being frequently required to sort the letters, which were then delivered from a row of half-a-dozen windows, lettered A to E, F to K, and so on through the alphabet. Independently of the immense mercantile correspondence, of course every man in the city was anxiously expecting letters from home; and for hours before the appointed time for opening the windows, a dense crowd of people collected, almost blocking up the two streets which gave access to the post-office, and having the appearance at a distance of being a mob; but on coming up to it, one would find that, though closely packed together, the people were all in six strings, twisted up and down in all directions, the commencement of them being the lucky individuals who had been first on the ground, and taken up their position at their respective windows, while each new-comer had to fall in behind those already waiting. Notwithstanding the value of time, and the impatience felt by every individual, the most perfect order prevailed: there was no such thing as a man attempting to push himself in ahead of those already waiting, nor was there the slightest respect of persons; every new-comer quietly took his position, and had to make the best of it, with the prospect of waiting for hours before he could hope to reach the window. Smoking and chewing tobacco were great aids in passing the time, and many came provided with books and newspapers, which they could read in perfect tranquillity, as there was no unnecessary crowding or jostling. The principle of “first come first served” was strictly adhered to, and any attempt to infringe the established rule would have been promptly put down by the omnipotent majority. A man’s place in the line was his individual property, more or less valuable according to his distance from the window, and, like any other piece of property, it was bought and sold, and converted into cash. Those who had plenty of dollars to spare, but could not afford much time, could buy out some one who had already spent several hours in keeping his place. Ten or fifteen dollars were frequently paid for a good position, and some men went there early, and waited patiently, without any expectation of getting letters, but for the chance of turning their acquired advantage into cash.