By the Golden Gate | Page 9

of Olean, N.Y., my fellow-traveller,
and I were soon in the ferry house. We ascended a wide staircase and
then found ourselves in a large waiting room, through whose windows I
looked out on the Bay of San Francisco for the first time. Off in the
distance, in the morning light, I could catch a glimpse of the Golden
City of the West. Near by was a departing ferryboat bound for San
Francisco. Just then a young man, evidently a stranger, accompanied by
a young woman, apparently a bride, accosted me and asked the
question, "Sir, do you think we can get on from up here?" Looking at
the bay-steamer fast receding, I assured him, somewhat pensively, that
I thought we could. In a few moments another steamer appeared in
view and speedily entered the dock. The gates of the ferry house were
opened and we went on board at once. Most of the passengers at this
early hour were those who had come across the Sierras, but there were
a few persons from Oakland going over to their places of business in
San Francisco. Oakland, so named from the abundance of its live-oaks,
has been styled the "Brooklyn" of San Francisco. It is largely a place of
residence for business men, and from fifteen to twenty thousand cross
the Bay daily in pursuit of their avocations. It is pleasantly situated on
the east side of the Bay, gradually rising up to the terraced hills which
skirt it on the east. The streets are regularly laid out and lined with
shade trees of tropical luxuriance as well as the live-oaks. Pretty lawns,
green and well kept, are in front of many of the houses in the residence
part of the city, and here the eye has a continual feast in gazing on
flowers in bloom, fuschias, verbenas, geraniums and roses especially.
At a later day I visited Oakland, and found it just as beautiful and
attractive as it looked in the distance from the deck of the ferry boat. It
has several banks, numerous churches, five of our own faith, with some
twelve hundred communicants, also good schools, and some fine
business blocks. Trolley cars conduct you through its main streets in all
directions. Landing at the Oakland pier, one of the largest in the world,
and extending out into the Bay some two miles from the shore, the
Southern Pacific Railway will soon carry you to the station within the
city limits. As you wander hither and thither you see on all sides tokens
of prosperity. There is an air of refinement about the place, and you
find the atmosphere clear and stimulating. There is not a very marked
difference in the temperature of the climate between summer and

winter. Frosts are unknown. It is no disparagement to San Francisco to
say that Oakland for delicate persons is more desirable. The trade
winds as they blow from the Pacific ocean, and make one robust and
hardy in San Francisco, when there is vitality to resist them, are
tempered as they blow across the Bay some fourteen miles or more,
while the fogs, so noted, as they rush in through the Golden Gate and
speed onward, are greatly modified as they reach the further shore. As
it has such a splendid climate and natural advantages, and enjoys the
distinction of being at the terminus of the great overland railway
systems, it is constantly attracting to itself population and capital. Ten
years ago it had 48,682 inhabitants; to-day it numbers 66,960.
Its people are very hospitable and are glad to welcome the traveller
from the east to their comfortable homes. On the ferry boat I was
accosted by a ruddy-faced and genial gentleman, a Mr. Young, a
resident of Oakland, who was proceeding to his place of business in
San Francisco. He gave me some valuable information, and pointed out
objects and places of interest. He seemed to be well informed about the
General Convention appointed to meet on the day of my arrival, in
Trinity church, San Francisco. He spoke with intelligence about its
character and purpose, and with enthusiasm concerning its members
whom he had met as they were crossing the Bay. The names of Bishop
Doane, of Albany, Bishop Potter, of New York, and Mr. J. Pierpont
Morgan, were as household words on his lips, and there was a gleam of
delight in his eye as he pictured to us the pleasures and surprises in
store for us during our sojourn in the Capital of the Golden West.
"That town," said he, "which you see to the south of Oakland, with its
long mole, is Alameda. It is a great place of resort, a kind of pleasure
grove. Alameda in the Spanish language means 'Poplar Avenue.' Many
people go