The surface is level for a couple of hundred yards back from the bay, and it then ascends sharply to the top of a high ridge running parallel with the bay. The surface is barren, and the sand is deep and soft. On this level strip and against this steep, sandy hill stands the great city of San Francisco. The house-foundations are all laid deeply, to get below the sand; and the streets are all paved with several layers of round rocks, with nothing to smooth the surface. There is nearly always a pretty strong wind stirring, and the streets have to be kept perfectly clean. For this purpose large street-sweepers are drawn over the road by horses every day, and sprinkling is done besides. The riding and driving over these rocks is very disagreeable; and the horses do not usually last very long. To see them drawing their great loads up the steep hill-side, slipping, sliding, and straining every nerve, and sometimes falling upon their knees on the stones, is an ugly sight indeed. The large wholesale houses all have heavy trucks; and many of the finest teams I ever saw were hauling these trucks. There is an immense quantity of the very largest and finest fruits raised in California every year. I believe I have seen as many grapes, pears, peaches, and melons in the streets of San Francisco in one day as there are raised in the State of Ohio in a whole year. I have seen several millions of fine melons lying in a single heap. There are several mammoth fruit-stores here, and hundreds of bushels, during the season, are daily loaded upon the ships for other countries. I might also add that, though California fruits are large and beautiful, much of it lacks the flavor of eastern fruits,--perhaps from the fact that during its growth it gets no rain but depends solely on the heavy dew for its nourishment. There are street-cars on almost every street; and they are run up and down the incline by engines stationed at the top of the hill. It is very pleasant riding up and down here, and the cars are full on almost every trip.