loud report echoing over the city tells us that the proud steamer, which has borne our starry flag to the uttermost parts of the earth, is safe in port, and is rounding Telegraph Hill on her way up the harbor to the wharves of the P. M. S. S. Co., at Rincon Point. Eureka! here is the wished- for sensation. Let us be off for South Beach!
Looking down from Rincon Hill, we see the long shed-covered wharf of the Pacific Mail Steamship Company stretching far out into Mission Bay to the southward, huge steamers lying in the docks, or at anchor in the stream, a stone's throw off, and in front, outside the high, closed gates, a vast crowd of Europeans, Americans, and Asiatics commingled, and a jam of vehicles of every description, gathered in anticipation of the steamer's arrival at her wharf. Descending the hill and making our way slowly through the crowd, we reach the gates at last, and approaching the group of police-officers on duty, offer the card inscribed, "Admit the Bearer on Great Republic" which was received at the company's office on Sacramento street, as a special courtesy from the great corporation. The officer has already recognized our companion. as a member of the San Francisco "press-gang," and passes us through the side door with a quiet nod, not even condescending to look at our ticket. Passing down the long-wharf, between the great steamers lying on either hand, we find in waiting a few vehicles—hacks sent to bring away some particular persons known to be on board, the United States mail and express wagons—some gentlemen
