Mark Twain in San Francisco

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Yesterday morning, Rufus Temple was examined before Judge Shepheard on a charge of obtaining money under false pretences, and acquitted. We are disposed to make a specific and more extended reference to this matter than its importance would seem to demand, from the fact that Mr. Temple is said to be an honest, industrious young man, who has been placed in an unfavorable light before the public by being arraigned in a Court of Justice on a criminal charge. The testimony, which signally failed to sustain the charge, went simply to show that the defendant, who follows the trade of a caulker, had been employed by Mr. Vice (the prosecuting witness) to do some extra work on the steamer Nina Tilden; that Temple presented a bill of thirty dollars to Mr. V. for this work, which was for some reason refused, upon which the bill was presented to Mr. Tilden, the owner or one of the owners of the vessel, who remarked, in substance, that he was not the proper person to pay such bills, but, as he did not wish any claims to stand against the vessel, he would pay it, which he did, taking Mr. Temple's receipt there for. Upon learning the fact of the payment, Mr. Vice saw the city prosecutor, and a verified complaint was made, embodying the averment that Temple had represented to Mr. Tilden that he was sent to him (Tilden) with a verbal order from affiant for the payment of the bill. Mr. Tilden, who was a witness for the prosecution, denied, on his oath, that Temple had made any such representation, and that fact being the gist of the offence, the prosecution was at once abandoned. We cannot but speak in terms of the strongest condemnation of the reprehensible manner in which parties very frequently come into the Police Court, under the sanction of the Prosecuting Attorney. With all of perjury except the technical animus, they seek to wield this tribunal as a mollifier of their personal feelings, as if it were instituted as a general dispenser of the lex talionis. It is indeed a fortunate thing for the community that we have just such a man as Judge Shepheard on the bench, where discrimination and decision are so much required.

The San Francisco Daily Morning Call. 16 August 1864.

At the meeting of the Board of Education last evening, Mr. Pope complained that he had been misrepresented by the reporter for the Call, as well as by the Secretary of the Board in his minutes, in the statements of his resolution introduced at the last meeting, on the subject of the participation by the pupils of the different Schools in the exercises of the Freedman's Concert. Mr. Pope says that his resolution was not to require the Grammar class, that had declined to participate on that occasion, to do so against their will, but to inform the members of that class that if they did so decline, they would be required to continue their usual daily exercises in School. If this was Mr. Pope's statement, he may have the benefit of it, though the fact that both the reporter and the Secretary of the Board, who are both presumed to be, and really are close listeners to the proceedings of the body, should understand the Director exactly alike, and fall into the same identical error, is, to say the least, a very extraordinary coincidence. Whatever may have been the exact phraseology of the gentleman's motion, the evident intention of the measure and the disposition of more than one member of the Board was certainly expressed in our report and the Secretary's minutes. However, as we entertain no feelings of hostility toward any member of the Board, we, in our own individual reportorial capacity, will concede, retract or admit anything in the world, "for the sake of the argument," and to keep peace in the family. But understand we don't mean it all, nor near it.

The San Francisco Daily Morning Call. 17 August 1864.

A man fell off his own dray - or rather it was a large truck-wagon - in Davis street, yesterday, and the fore wheels passed over his body. A bystander stopped the horses and they backed the same wheels over the man's body a second time; after which he crawled out, jumped on the wagon, muttered something about being "tired of such d--d foolishness," and drove off before a surgeon could arrive to amputate him!

The San Francisco Daily Morning Call. 18 August 1864.

Yesterday afternoon about half past two o'clock, a pawnbroker named Meyer, whose establishment is in Commercial street, below Kearny, went out and left his son Henry, a youth of eighteen or twenty, perhaps, to attend to the business during his absence. Upon returning, half an hour later, he found pools of blood here and there, a knife and double-barrelled shot gun on the floor - the latter weapon parted from its stock - several trays of watches, diamonds and various kinds of jewelry gone, the doors of the safe open, its drawers pulled out and despoiled of their contents - disorder visible everywhere, but his son nowhere to be seen! Hearing a faint groan, he ran into the back room, and there in the gloom he discerned his boy, lying on the floor and weltering in blood. Now, after reading the above, the public will know exactly as much about this ghastly mystery as the Police know - as anybody knows, except the murderer himself. So far as heard from, nobody was seen to enter the store during Mr. Meyer's absence, and nobody was seen to leave. The assassin did his work between half-past two and three o'clock in the afternoon, in the busiest portion of one of the busiest thoroughfares of the city, and departed unseen, and left no sign by which his identity may hereafter be established. Up to the present writing the boy has only groaned in pain and is speechless. We reached the spot a few minutes after the tragedy was discovered, and found the street in front blockaded by a crowd of men staring at the premises in blank fascination, and entering, found another crowd composed of policemen, doctors, detectives, and reporters, engaged as such people are usually engaged upon such occasions. The boy's body and his bunk were deluged in blood, and efforts were being made to relieve his sufferings. There was apparently but one wound upon him, and that had been inflicted on the back of his head, behind his right ear. The skull was indented as if by a slung-shot. Probably neither the knife nor the gun found upon the floor were used in the assault. Near one of the windows in the front office closely curtained against observation from the street - was a pool of gouted blood, as large as a chair-seat; and the blow was given there, no doubt, for from that spot a roadway was marked in the dust of the floor to the extreme end of the back room where the body was found, showing that after he was knocked senseless, the robbers must have dragged him to that spot, to guard against his attracting attention by making an outcry. Mr. Meyer says the valuables carried off by the daring perpetrators of the outrage, are worth about eight thousand dollars. A man came in while we were present, and told Capt. Lees that about the time he saw the crowd running toward Commercial street, he met a man in Kearny street, running as if destruction were at his heels; that he broke frantically through a blockade of wagons, carriages, and a funeral procession, sped on his way and was out of sight in a moment; that he was thick set, about five feet seven or eight inches in stature, wore dark clothing, a black slouch hat, and had a sort of narrow goatee; that he had improvised a sack out of an old calico dress, the neck of which sack he grasped in his hand, and had the surplus calico wrapped round his arm; the appearance of the said sack was as if it might have a hat-full of eggs in it - two dozen, or thereabouts, you might say. Five minutes after the conclusion of the narrative, we observed the man who saw all this, speeding up town in a buggy with a detective. At the Chief's office, fifteen minutes after the discovery of the bloody catastrophe, Mr. Burke's campaign commenced, and he was dictating orders to a small army of Policemen, with a decision and rapidity commensurate with the urgency of the occasion: You, and you, and you, go to the Stockton and Sacramento boats and arrest every Chinaman and every suspicious white man that tries to go on board; you, and you, go to the San Jose Railroad - same order; you go to the stable and order two fleet horses to be saddled and sent here instantly; you, and you, and you, go to the heads of the Chinese Companies and tell them to detain every suspicious Chinaman they see, and send me word; I'll be responsible." And so on, and so forth, until squads of Policemen were scattering abroad through every portion of the city, and closing every prominent avenue of escape from it. An affair like this makes hurrying times in the Police Department. After all, the wonder is that an enterprise like this robbery and attempted assassination has not previously been essayed in Mr. Meyer's and other pawnbroking establishments. They are not frequented by customers in the day-time, and the glass doors and windows are rendered untransparent by thick coats of paint, and also by curtains that are always closed, so that nothing that transpires within can be seen from the street. One or two active men could enter such a place at night, gag the occupants, turn the gas nearly out, and take their own time about robbing the concern, for customers would not be apt to molest an establishment through whose shaded windows no light appeared.

Up to eleven o'clock last night, young Meyer was still irrational, although he had spoken incoherently several times of matters foreign to the misfortune that had befallen him. We have this from Dr. Murphy, his physician, who saw him at that hour. The Doctor says the wound was evidently inflicted with a slung shot. Its form is an egg-shaped indentation at the base of the brain. There are also the distinct marks of four fingers and a thumb on the throat, made by the left hand of the man who assaulted him. (Whose left hand among ye will fit those marks?) The patient can only swallow with great difficulty, on account of the fearful choking he received, and the consequent swelling and soreness of the glands of the throat. He suffers chiefly, however, from the pressing of the indented skull upon the brain. His condition improves a little all the time, and, although the chances are nearly all against his recovery, still that result is regarded as comfortably within the margin of possibility. Unless he comes to his senses, it will be next to impossible ever to establish the guilt of any man suspected of this crime. An ordinary deed of blood excites only a passing interest in San Francisco, but to show how much a little mystery enhances the importance of such an occurrence, we will mention that at no time, from three o'clock in the afternoon, yesterday, until midnight, was there a moment when there was not a crowd in front of Meyer's store, gazing at its darkened windows and closed and guarded doors. During the afternoon and night, several white men were arrested about town on suspicion, and seventy-two Chinamen were detained from leaving on the boats until after the hour for sailing. The right man is doubtless at large yet, however.

The San Francisco Daily Morning Call. 18 August 1864.

To-day the Ning-Yong Company will finish furnishing and decorating the new Josh house, or place of worship, built by them in Broadway, between Dupont and Kearny streets, and to-morrow they will begin their unchristian devotions in it. The building is a handsome brick edifice, two stories high on Broadway, and three on the alley in the rear; both fronts are of pressed brick. A small army of workmen were busily engaged yesterday, in putting on the finishing touches of the embellishments. The throne of the immortal Josh is at the head of the hall in the third story, within a sort of alcove of elaborately carved and gilded woodwork, representing human figures and birds and beasts of all degrees of hideousness. Josh himself is as ugly a monster as can be found outside of China. He is in a sitting posture, is of about middle stature, but excessively fat; his garments are flowing and ample, garnished with a few small circlets of looking-glass, to represent jewels, and streaked and striped, daubed from head to foot, with paints of the liveliest colors. A long strand of black horsehair sprouts from each corner of his upper lip, another from the centre of his chin, and one from just forward of each ear. He wears an open-work crown, which gleams with gold leaf. His rotund face is painted a glaring red, and the general expression of this fat and happy god is as if he had eaten too much rice and rats for dinner, and would like his belt loosened if he only had the energy to do it. In front of the throne hangs a chandelier of Chinese manufacture, with a wilderness of glass drops and curved candle supports about it; but it is not as elegant and graceful as the American article. Under it, in a heavy frame-work, a big church bell is hung, also of Chinese workmanship; it is carved and daubed with many-colored paint all over. In front of the bell, three long tables are ranged, the fronts of two of which display a perfect maze-work of carving. The principal one shows, behind a glass front, several hundred splendidly gilded figures of kings on thrones, and bowing and smirking attendants, and horses on the rampage. The figures in this huge carved picture stand out in bold relief from the background, but they are not stuck on. The whole concern is worked out of a single broad slab of timber, and only the cunning hand of a Chinaman could have wrought it. Over the forward table is suspended a sort of shield, of indescribable shape, whose face is marked in compartments like a coat of arms, and in each of these is another nightmare of burnished and distorted human figures. The ceiling of this room, and both sides of it, are adorned with great sign boards, (they look like that to a content Christian, at any rate,) bearing immense Chinese letters or characters, sometimes raised from the surface of the wood and sometimes cut into it, and sometimes these letters being painted a bright red or green, and the grand expanse of sign board blazing with gold-leaf, or vice versa. These signs are presents to the Church from other companies, and they bear the names of those corporations, and possibly some extravagant Chinese moral or other, though if the latter was the case we failed to prove it by Ah Wae, our urbane and intelligent interpreter. Up and down the room, on both sides, are ranged alternate chairs and tables, made of the same hard, close-grained black wood used in the carved tables above mentioned; devout pagans lean their elbows on these little side tables, and swill tea while they worship Josh. Now, humble and unpretending Christian as we are, there was something infinitely comfortable and touching to us in this gentle mingling together of piety and breakfast. They have a large painted drum, and a pig or two, in this temple. How would it strike you, now, to stand at one end of this room with ranks of repentant Chinamen extending down either side before you, sipping purifying tea, and all about and above them a gorgeous cloud of glaring colors and dazzling gold and tinsel, with the bell tolling, and the drums thundering, and the gongs clanging, and portly, blushing old Josh in the distance, smiling upon it all, in his imbecile way, from out his splendid canopy? Nice perhaps? In the second story there are more painted emblems and symbols than we could describe in a week. In the first story are six long white slats (in a sort of vault) split into one hundred and fifty divisions, each like the keys of a piano, and this affair is the death-register of the Ning-Yong Company. When a man dies, his name, age, his native place in China, and the place of his death in this country, are inscribed on one of these keys, and the record is always preserved. Ah Wae tells us that the Ning-Yong Company numbers eighteen or twenty thousand persons on this coast, now, and has numbered as high as twenty-eight thousand. Ah Wae speaks good English, and is the outside business man of the tribe - that is, he transacts matters with us barbarians. He will occupy rooms and offices in the temple, as will also the great Wy Gah, the ineffable High Priest of the temple, and Sing Song, or President of the Ning-Yong Company. The names of the temple, inscribed over its doors, are, "Ning Yong Chu Oh," and "Ning Yong Wae Quong;" both mean the same thing, but one is more refined and elegant, and is suited to a higher and more cultivated class of Chinese than the other - though to our notion they appear pretty much the same thing, as far as facility of comprehending them is concerned. To-morrow the temple will be opened, and all save Chinese will be excluded from it until about the 5th of September, when white folks will be free to visit it, due notice having first been given in the newspapers, and a general invitation extended to the public.

The San Francisco Daily Morning Call. 19 August 1864.

Since the recent extraordinary expose of the concerns of the Grass Silver Mining Valley Company, by which Stockholders discovered, to their grief and dismay, that figures could lie as to what became of some of their assessments, and could also be ominously reticent as to what went with the balance, people have begun to discuss the possibility of inventing a plan by which they may be advised, from time to time, of the manner in which their money is being expended by officers of mining companies, to the end that they may seasonably check any tendency towards undue extravagance or dishonest expenditures that may manifest itself, instead of being compelled to wait a year or two in ignorance and suspense, to find at last that they have been bankrupted to no purpose. And it is time their creative talents were at work in this direction. The longer they sleep the dread sleep of the Grass Valley, the more terrible will be the awakening from it. Money is being squandered with a recklessness that knows no limit - that had a beginning, but seemingly hath no end, save a beggarly minority of dividend-paying companies - and after these years of expectation and this waste of capital, what account of stewardship has been rendered unto the flayed stock holder? What does he know about the disposition that has been made of his money? What brighter promise has he now than in any by-gone time that he is not to go on hopelessly paying assessments and wondering what becomes of them, until Gabriel sounds his trumpet? The Hale & Norcross officers decide to sink a shaft. They levy forty thousand dollars. Next month they have a mighty good notion to go lower, and they levy a twenty thousand dollar assessment. Next month, the novelty of sinking the shaft has about worn off, and they think it would be nice to drift a while - twenty thousand dollars. The following month it occurs to them it would be so funny to pump a little - and they buy a forty thousand dollar pump. Thus it goes on for months and months, but the Hale & Norcross sends us no bullion, though most of the time there is an encouraging rumor afloat that they are "right in the casing!" Take the Chollar Company, for instance. It seems easy on its children just now, but who does not remember its regular old monotonous assessment on them? "Sixty dollars a foot! sixty dollars a foot! sixty dollars a foot!" month in and month out, till the persecuted stockholder howled again. The same way with the Best & Belcher, and the same way with three-fourths of the mines on the main lead, from Cedar Hill to Silver City. We could scarcely name them all in a single article, but we have given a specimen or so by which the balance may be measured. And what has gone with the money? We pause (a year or two) for a reply. Now, in some of the States, all banks are compelled to publish a monthly statement of their affairs. Why not make the big mining companies do the same thing? It would make some of them fearfully sick at first, but they would feel all the better for it in the long-run. The Legislature is not in session, and a law to this effect cannot now be passed; but if one company dare voluntarily to set the example, the balance would follow by pressure of circumstances. But that first bold company does not exist, perhaps; if it does, a grateful community will be glad to hear from it. Where is it? Let it come forward and offer itself as the sacrificial scape-goat to bear the sins of its fellows into the wilderness.

The San Francisco Daily Morning Call. 19 August 1864.

This accomplished old gin-barrel came out of the County Jail early in the morning three days ago, and was promptly in the station-house, drunk as a loon, before the middle of the day. She got out the next day, but was in again before night. She got out the following morning, but yesterday noon she was back again, with her noble heart preserved in spirits, as usual. Having a full cargo aboard by this time, she will probably clear for her native land in the County Jail to-day.

The San Francisco Daily Morning Call. 20 August 1864.

Yesterday afternoon a Commission was engaged in the United States District Court room, taking testimony in the criminal proceedings instituted against Luther Hopkins, Master of the American ship Carlisle, for brutally treating Andrew Anderson, one of the ship's crew. The affidavit of the prosecuting witness states that on the 2d April, 1864, Captain Hopkins cruelly beat him with a belaying pin, while he was sick, inflicting serious injuries on him; and also, on the 27th April, Anderson being still sick Hopkins, the defendant, beat him on the head with a belaying pin; and again, on the 27th June, still being an invalid, he was beaten with a heavy, knotted rope, more than twenty blows, by the Captain of the vessel, who also caused him to be bitten by a dog. Poor Jack seeks redress and protection in a United States Court. When the Captain marshals his subordinates, from first officer down to forty-ninth cook, all dependent on him for the tenure of their dignities, they will with one voice swear they never saw the Captain do any such thing - blind as bats - while the poor victim felt it sensibly, and his quaking comrades in the forecastle saw it distinctly enough. It would be a hard thing should a Captain be punished for merely killing a sailor or two, as a matter of pastime.

The San Francisco Daily Morning Call. 20 August 1864.

The New Chinese Temple in Broadway - the "Ning Yong Wae Quong" of the Ning Yong Company, was dedicated to the mighty Josh night before last, with a general looseness in the way of beating of drums, clanging of gongs and burning of yellow paper, commensurate with the high importance of the occasion. In the presence of the great idol, the other day, our cultivated friend, Ah Wae, informed us that the old original Josh (of whom the image was only an imitation, a substitute vested with power to act for the absent God, and bless Chinamen or damn them, according to the best of his judgment,) lived in ancient times on the Mountain of Wong Chu, was seventeen feet high, and wielded a club that weighed two tons; that he died two thousand five hundred years ago, but that he is all right yet in the Celestial Kingdom, and can come on earth, or appear anywhere he pleases, at a moment's notice, and that he could come down here and cave our head in with his club if he wanted to. We hope he don't want to. Ah Wae told us all that, and we deliver it to the public just as we got it, advising all to receive it with caution and not bet on its truthfulness until after mature reflection and deliberation. As far as we are concerned, we don't believe it, for all it sounds so plausible.

The San Francisco Daily Morning Call. 21 August 1864.

MINING COMPANIES' ACCOUNTS. - The Morning Call of yesterday has a lively article on Mining Companies, suggesting that Mining Trustees should publish quarterly statements of Expenditures and Receipts, concluding with: "The Legislature is not in session, and a law to this effect cannot now be passed; but if one Company dare voluntarily to set the example, the balance would follow by pressure of circumstances. But that first bold Company does not exist, perhaps; if it does, a grateful community will be glad to hear from it. Where is it? Let it come forward and offer itself as the sacrificial scape-goat to bear the sins of its fellows into the wilderness."

In answer to this the officers of the Daniel Webster Mining Company, located in Devil's Gate District, Nevada Territory, have requested us to inform the shareholders and others who have purchased stock in this Company at high prices, that a complete exhibit of the Company's affairs will be made public in the Argus on Saturday next. This Company, in consequence of a couple of shareholders in Nevada Territory, (legal gentlemen at that,) paying their previous assessments in green-backs, has been the first to levy an assessment payable in currency. We believe, however, they will be the first "who dare" to make public their accounts. We hope the Coso will be the next to follow suit, as a correspondent of ours, in Sacramento, (whose letter appears under the appropriate heading,) seems anxious to learn what has become of the forty three thousand two hundred dollars collected by this Company for assessments the last year. - (S. F. Argus, Saturday.)

So there are company officers who are bold enough, fair enough, true enough to the interests entrusted to their keeping, to let stockholders, as well as all who may chance to become so, know the character of their stewardship, and whose records are white enough to bear inspection. We had not believed it, and we are glad that a Mining Company worthy of the name of Daniel Webster existed to save to us the remnant of our faith in the uprightness of these dumb and inscrutable institutions. We have nothing to fear now; all that was wanting was some one to take the lead. Other Companies will see that this monthly or quarterly exhibit of their affairs is nothing but a simple act of justice to their stockholders and to others who may desire to become so. They will also see that it is policy to let the public know where invested money will be judiciously used and strictly accounted for; and, our word for it, Companies that dare to show their books, will soon fall into line and adopt the system of published periodical statements. In time it will become a custom, and custom is more binding, more impregnable, and more exacting than any law that was ever framed. In that day the Coso will be heard from; and so will Companies in Virginia, which sport vast and gorgeously-painted shaft and machinery houses, with costly and beautiful green chicken-cocks on the roof, which are able to tell how the wind blows, yet are savagely ignorant concerning dividends. So will other Companies come out and say what it cost to build their duck ponds; so will still others tell their stockholders why they paid sixty thousand dollars for machinery worth about half the money; an other that we have in our eye will show what they did with an expensive lot of timbers, when they haven't got enough in their mine to shingle a chicken-coop with; and yet others will let us know if they are still "in the casing," and why they levy a forty-thousand-dollar assessment every six weeks to run a drift with. Secretaries, Superintendents, and Boards of Trustees, that don't like the prospect, had better resign. The public have got precious little confidence in the present lot, and the public will back this assertion we are making in its name. Stockholders are very tired of being at the mercy of omnipotent and invisible officers, and are ripe for the inauguration of a safer and more sensible state of things. And when it is inaugurated, mining property will thrive again, and not before. Confidence is the mainstay of every class of commercial enterprise.

The San Francisco Daily Morning Call. 21 August 1864.

In consequence of the warm, close atmosphere which smothered the city at two o'clock yesterday afternoon, everybody expected to be shaken out of their boots by an earthquake before night, but up to the hour of our going to press the supernatural bootjack had not arrived yet. That is just what makes it so unhealthy - the earthquakes are getting so irregular. When a community get used to a thing, they suffer when they have to go without it. However, the trouble cannot be remedied; we know of nothing that will answer as a substitute for one of those convulsions - to an unmarried man.

The San Francisco Daily Morning Call. 23 August 1864.

One of those singular freaks of Nature which, by reference to the dictionary, we find described as "the water or the descent of water that falls in drops from the clouds - shower," occurred here yesterday, and kept the community in a state of pleasant astonishment for the space of several hours. They would not have been astonished at an earthquake, though. Thus it will be observed that nothing accustoms one to a thing so readily as getting used to it. You will always notice that, in America. We were thinking this refreshing rain would make everybody happy. Not so the cows. An agricultural sharp informs us that yesterday's rain was a misfortune to California - that it will kill the dry grass upon which the cattle now subsist, and also the young grass upon which they were calculating to subsist hereafter. We know nothing what ever about the matter, but we do know that if what this gentleman says is strictly true, the inevitable deduction is that the cattle are out of luck. We stand to that.

The San Francisco Daily Morning Call. 23 August 1864.

Being duly provided with passes, through the courtesy of our cultivated barbaric friend, Ah Wae, outside business-agent of the Ning Yong Company, we visited the new Chinese Temple again yesterday, in company with several friends. After suffocating in the smoke of burning punk and josh lights, and the infernal odors of opium and all kinds of edibles cooked in an unchristian manner, until we were becoming imbued with Buddhism and beginning to lose our nationality, and imbibe, unasked, Chinese instincts, we finally found Ah Wae, who roused us from our lethargy and saved us to our religion and our country by merely breathing the old, touching words, so simple and yet so impressive, and withal so familiar to those whose blessed privilege it has been to be reared in the midst of a lofty and humanizing civilization: "How do, gentlemen - take a drink ?" By the magic of that one phrase, our noble American instincts were spirited back to us again, in all their pristine beauty and glory. The polished cabinet of wines and liquors stood on a table in one of the gorgeous halls of the temple, and behold, an American, with those same noble instincts of his race, had been worshipping there before us - Mr. Stiggers, of the Alta. His photograph lay there, the countenance subdued by accustomed wine, and reposing upon it appeared that same old smile of serene and ineffable imbecility which has so endeared it to all whose happiness it has been to look upon it. That apparition filled us with forebodings. They proved to be well founded. A sad Chinaman - the sanctified bar-keeper of the temple - threw open the cabinet with a sigh, exposed the array of empty decanters, sighed again, murmured "Bymbye, Stiggins been here," and burst into tears. No one with any feeling would have tortured the poor pagan for further explanations when manifestly none were needed, and we turned away in silence, and dropped a sympathetic tear in a fragrant rat-pie which had just been brought in to be set before the great god Josh. The temple is thoroughly fitted up now, and is resplendent with tinsel and all descriptions of finery. The house and its embellishments cost about eighty thousand dollars. About the 5th of September it will be thrown open for public inspection, and will be well worth visiting. There is a band of tapestry extending around a council-room in the second story, which is beautifully embroidered in a variety of intricate designs wrought in bird's feathers, and gold and silver thread and silk fibres of all colors. It cost a hundred and fifty dollars a yard, and was made by hand. The temple was dedicated last Friday night, and since then priests and musicians have kept up the ceremonies with noisy and unflagging zeal. The priests march backward and forward, reciting prayers or something in a droning, sing-song way, varied by discordant screeches somewhat like the cawing of crows, and they kneel down, and get up and spin around, and march again, and still the infernal racket of gongs, drums and fiddles, goes on with its hideous accompaniment, and still the spectator grows more and more smothered and dizzy in the close atmosphere of punk-smoke and opium-fumes. On a divan in one hall, two priests, clad in royal robes of figured blue silk, and crimson skull caps, lay smoking opium, and had kept it up until they looked as drunk and spongy as the photograph of the mild and beneficent Stiggers. One of them was a high aristocrat and a distinguished man among the Chinamen, being no less a personage than the chief priest of the temple, and "Sing-Song" or President of the great Ning-Yong Company. His finger-nails are actually longer than the fingers they adorn, and one of them is twisted in spirals like a cork screw. There was one room half full of priests, all fine, dignified, intelligent looking men like Ah Wae, and all dressed in long blue silk robes, and blue and red topped skull caps, with broad brims turned up all round like wash-basins. The new temple is ablaze with gilded ornamentation, and those who are fond of that sort of thing would do well to stand ready to accept the forthcoming public invitation.

The San Francisco Daily Morning Call. 23 August 1864.

We have before us a letter from an intelligent correspondent, dated "Sarrozay, (San Jose?) Last Sunday;" we had previously ordered this correspondent to drop us a line, in case anything unusual should happen in San Jose during the period of his sojourn there. Now that we have got his chatty letter, however, we prefer, for reasons of our own, to make extracts from it, instead of publishing it in full. Considering the expense we were at in sending a special correspondent so far, we are sorry to be obliged to entertain such a preference. The very first paragraph in this blurred and scrawling letter pictured our friend's condition, and filled us with humiliation. It was abhorrent to us to think that we, who had so well earned and so proudly borne the appellation of "M. T., The Moral Phenomenon," should live to have such a letter addressed to us. It begins thus:

"Mr. Mark Twain - Sir: Sarrozay's beauriful place. Flowers - or maybe it's me - smells delishs - like sp-sp-sp(ic ! )irits turpentine. Hiccups again. Don' mind them had 'em three days."

As we remarked before, it is very humiliating. So is the next paragraph:

"Full of newsper men - reporters. One from Alta, one from Flag, one from Bulletin, two from MORRING CALL, one from Sacramento Union, one from Carson Independent. And all drunk - all drunk but me. By Georshe! I'm stonished."

The next paragraph is still worse:

"Been out to Leland of the Occidental, and Livingston in the Warrum Springs, and Steve, with four buggies and a horse, which is a sp splennid place splennid place."

Here follow compliments to Nolan, Conductor of the morning train, for his kindness in allowing the writer to ride on the engine, where he could have "room to enjoy himself strong, you know," and to the Engineer for his generosity in stopping at nearly every station to give people a "chance to come on board, you understand." Then his wandering thoughts turn again affectionately to "Sarrozay" and its wonders:

"Sarrozay's lovely place. Shade trees all down both sides street, and in the middle and elsewhere, and gardens - second street back of Connental Hotel. With a new church in a tall scaffolding - I watched her an hour, but can't understand it. I don' see how they got her in - I don' see how they goin' to get her out. Corralled for good, praps. Hic! Them hiccups again. Comes from s-sociating with drunken beasts."

Our special next indulges in some maudlin felicity over the prospect of riding back to the city in the night on the back of the fire-breathing locomotive, and this suggests to his mind a song which he remembers to have heard somewhere. That is all he remembers about it, though, for the finer details of its language appear to have caved into a sort of general chaos among his recollections. The bawr stood on the burring dock, Whence all but him had f-flowed - f-floored - f-fled -

The f-flumes that lit the rattle's back

Sh-shone round him o'er the shed -

"I dono what's the marrer withat song. It don't appear to have any sense in it, somehow - but she used to be abou the fines' f-fusion - "

Soothing slumber overtook the worn and weary pilgrim at this point, doubtless, and the world may never know what beautiful thought it met upon the threshold and drove back within the portals of his brain, to perish in forgetfulness. After this effort, we trust the public will bear with us if we allow our special correspondent to rest from his exhausting labors for a season - a long season - say a year or two.

The San Francisco Daily Morning Call. 23 August 1864.

Business is progressing in lively style at the Monitor Yard. Some two hundred and seventy-five hands, including about fifty boys, swarm in and about the progressing hull, and all appear to work with a will, under the keen superintending eye of Mr. Ryan and his able assistants. On Saturday evening, after the men had struck work, they were invited to assist at a grand flag-raising. A tall tapering pole was planted, amid general enthusiasm, and a splendid American ensign hoisted to the truck with cheers to its constellated glories and toasts for its ultimate triumph. Mr. J. W. Willard, the gentleman who attends to the contribution-box placed at the entrance gate, for aid to the Sanitary Commission Fund, informs us that visitors contribute their two bits with cheerfulness; in many instances coin of larger denomination are dropped, and change refused to be taken. On Sunday, a general visiting time, the amount contributed was two hundred and seventy-three dollars; and yesterday the box received from fifty to sixty dollars. The "Monitor Box" promises a good source.

The San Francisco Daily Morning Call. 23 August 1864.

All that Mr. Stiggers, of the Alta, has to say about his monstrous conduct in the Ning-Yong Temple, day before yesterday, in drinking up all the liquors in the establishment, and breaking the heart of the wretched Chinaman in whose charge they were placed - a crushing exposure of which we conceived it our duty to publish yesterday - is the following: "We found a general festival, a sort of Celestial free and easy, going on, on arrival, and were waited on in the most polite manner by Ah Wee, who, although a young man, is thoroughly well educated, very intelligent, and speaks English quite fluently. With him we took a glass of wine and a cigar before the high altar, and with a general shaking hands all around, our part of the ceremonies was concluded." That is the coolest piece of effrontery we have met with in many a day. He "concluded his part of the ceremonies by taking a glass of wine and a cigar." We should think a man who had acted as Mr. Stiggers did upon that occasion, would feel like keeping perfectly quiet about it. Such flippant gayety of language ill becomes him, under the circumstances. We are prepared, now, to look upon the most flagrant departures from propriety, on the part of that misguided young creature, without astonishment. We would not even be surprised if his unnatural instincts were to prompt him to come back at us this morning, and attempt to exonerate himself, in his feeble way, from the damning charge we have fastened upon him of gobbling up all the sacred whiskey belonging to those poor uneducated Chinamen, and otherwise strewing his path with destruction and devastation, and leaving nothing but tears and lamentation, and starvation and misery, behind him. We should not even be surprised if he were to say hard things about us, and expect people to believe them. He may possibly tremble and be silent, but it would not be like him, if he did.

The San Francisco Daily Morning Call. 24 August 1864.

A gloom pervaded the Police Court, as the sable visages of Mary Wilkinson and Maria Brooks, with their cloud of witnesses, entered within its consecrated walls, each to prosecute and defend respectively in counter charges of assault and battery. The cases were consolidated, and crimination and recrimination ruled the hour. Mary said she was a meek-hearted Christian, who loved her enemies, including Maria, and had prayed for her on the very morning of the day when the latter threw a pail of water and a rock against her. Maria said she didn't throw; that she wasn't a Christian herself, and that Mary had the very devil in her. The case would always have remained in doubt, but Mrs. Hammond overshadowed the Court, and flashed defiance at counsel, from her eyes, while indignation and eloquence burst from her heaving bosom, like the long pent up fires of a volcano, whenever any one presumed to intimate that her statement might be improved in point of credibility, by a slight explanation. Even the gravity of the Court was somewhat disturbed when three hundred weight of black majesty, hauteur, and conscious virtue, rolled on to the witness stand, like the forequarter of a sunburnt whale, a living embodiment of Desdemona, Othello, Jupiter, Josh, and Jewhilikens. She appeared as counsel for Maria Brooks, and scornfully repudiated the relationship, when citizen Sam Platt, Esq. prefaced his interrogation with the endearing, "Aunty." "I'm not your Aunty," she roared. "I'm Mrs. Hammond," upon which the citizen S. P., Esq., repeated his assurances of distinguished regard, and caved a little. Mrs. Hammond rolled off the stand, and out of the Court room, like the fragment of a thunder cloud, leaving the "congregation," as she called it, in convulsions. Mary Brooks and Maria Wilkinson were both convicted of assault and battery, and ordered to appear for sentence.

The San Francisco Daily Morning Call. 24 August 1864.

George Johnson yesterday had his room-mate, M. Fink, arrested for stealing one hundred and fourteen dollars from him. Johnson says Fink is an old friend of his, and came to him three months ago and said he had no money, could get no work to do, and had no place to sleep; he had previously been tending bar at the Mazurka Saloon. Johnson has shared his bed with him, and paid his washing and board bills from that time until a few weeks ago, when the fellow got a situation of some kind on one of the steamers. He still continued to share Johnson's room, in the Wells Building, corner of Clay and Montgomery streets, however, when in port. Johnson left him in bed yesterday morning, early, and when he returned, he missed his money and his friend - the former from the bureau drawer and the latter from the bed. We consider that this only confirms what we have always said - namely, that the heart of man is desperately wicked.

The San Francisco Daily Morning Call. 24 August 1864.

Yesterday, F. L. Post, Property Clerk of the Police Department, paid over the fourth and fifth instalments of the monthly contributions of the Police force to the Sanitary Fund, amounting, in the aggregate, to a fraction under five hundred dollars. This makes a total of two thousand five hundred and sixty-four dollars, in gold, received by the Sanitary Commission from the same source since the beginning of the present year, and speaks volumes for the liberality and patriotism of our Police. Chief Burke contributes fifteen dollars monthly; officer Cook, twelve dollars and a half; officer Hesse, twelve dollars; Captains Lees and Baker, ten dollars each, and none of the members of the force less than five dollars. These donations are purely voluntary. While upon this subject, we would mention that R. G. Sneath, Treasurer of the Sanitary Committee, designs having a beautiful certificate engraved, suitable for framing as a parlor ornament, and one of these will be filled out and presented to each person who contributes ten dollars for the relief of the sick and wounded soldiers of the Union.

The San Francisco Daily Morning Call. 24 August 1864.

METROPOLITAN. - "Mazeppa" was performed last evening, in the presence of about two thousand people. The personation of the Tartar Prince was assumed by the manageress herself - Mrs. Emily Jordan. The part involves some rather risky horsemanship, and, considering the sultriness of the weather, a refreshing scantiness of clothing, which, perhaps, had not the least to do with causing the presence of the crowd. We suppose, as Mrs. Malaprop says, "comparisons are odorous," but we must give Jordan the credit of doing the "runs" in better style than Menken. The general performance of the role had not the dash and abandon of that many-named woman, but the equestrian portion was decidedly superior; and it surprises us to learn that the actress, up to the time of consenting to play the part, had been entirely unfamiliar with equestrianism. We must, therefore, add to her merit of gracefulness, the quality of courage, moral and physical. It would make the spectacle more generally effective, if greater attention were paid to other parts of it than that assigned to Mazeppa. The scenery and appointments are very well indeed; but the cast is miserably defective. The people act with a hesitation and timidity that lead one to believe they expected the "wild" horse to break loose from his halterings behind the scenes, and distribute a few kicks among them, which, by the way, not a few of the supers richly deserve. Some of the combats were ridiculous, and were openly derided by the audience. Mr. Phelps, who deserves every credit for his untiring industry and ability as a stage manager, had better get those gay swordsmen together and drill them thoroughly. "Mazeppa" will be repeated to-night, and every night this week until further notice.

The San Francisco Daily Morning Call. 25 August 1864.

The great Union Hall, in Howard street, yesterday afternoon, was swarming with a busy hive of ladies and artisans, hurrying up the decorations and working against time in the effort to get all things in readiness for the great Fair in behalf of the Christian Commission, which was to begin in the evening. The chaos of flags, evergreens, frame work, timbers, etc., was already be ginning to take upon itself outlines of grace and forms of beauty, under the deft handling of the ladies and their assistants. A charming floral temple stands in the centre of the Hall; it is octagonal in shape, is composed of a cluster of evergreen arches which come together at the top like the rafters of a dome, and are surmounted by an eagle - not a live one. The bases upon which these arches rest, form counters, whereon are displayed baskets of fresh flowers for sale; one or two larger bouquets among them are perfect miracles of beauty. A succession of ample arches, swathed in evergreens and draped with flags and embellished with various designs, extends entirely around the sides of the hall; under these are miniature shops, in which the loveliest possible clerks will stand and dispose of all manner of wares at ruinously moderate prices, considering the object to which the profits are to be applied. There is one arch which bears this motto: "Santa Clara's Offering to the Soldiers," and under it were five handsome young ladies and two pretty glass work-baskets laden with fresh flowers - a most extraordinary offering to an army of wounded soldiers, it occurred to us. Over other alcoves were such mottoes as "God is Our Trust;" "M. E. Churches;" "In hoc signo vinces," surmounted by a stately cross; "Union is Strength," etc. No. 1 of these alcoves will be occupied by ladies from Oakland; No. 2, by Miss Baker and her School, of this city; No. 3, by members of Dr. Wadsworth's and Dr. Anderson's Churches, (Presbyterian;) No. 4 is erected by Methodists, Baptists and Presbyterians of Santa Clara; No. 5, by the United Methodists of San Francisco; No. 6, by the Congregationalists; No. 7, by the Episcopalians; No. 8, by members of Mr. Kittredge's congregation; No. 9 and 10, by the Baptists. At the left of the stage, under a splendor of silken flags, the smallest and fairest of hands will dispense some of the most useful and useless things to be found in the Fair - cigars and soap. (That sentence does not seem to sound right, somehow, but there is no time now to skirmish around it and find out what is the matter with it.) At the other corner of the stage is the Christian soda fountain. At the right of the entrance door they were building a "moss covered well" around an old oaken bucket which is to be filled with lemonade; (why not bay rum, or Jamaica rum, or some thing of that kind?) This is "Jacob's Well," and will be carried on exclusively by Rachel, in the costume of her day. On the left of the entrance is a cool, dripping grotto, built by some counterfeiter of Nature, out of pasteboard rocks; the effect is heightened by pendant sprays of Spanish moss, and a stuffed duck sitting placidly on a shelf in the grotto, renders the deception complete. No duck could look more complacent or more perfectly satisfied with his condition, or more natural, or more like a genuine stuffed duck than he does. It was hard to resist the temptation to squeeze his shelf, to see if he would squawk. One of the reception rooms was filled with fine oil paintings, loaned by the artists and picture dealers of the city.

THE OPENING. - By half-past eight in the evening, Union Hall was pretty well crowded with gentlemen and ladies, and the handsome decorations of the place showed to all the better advantage by contrast with the shifting panorama of life and light by which they were surrounded. The famous Presidio Band opened the ceremonies with superb music, after which the Rev. Mr. Blane, pastor of the Howard street Methodist Church, offered up a fervent prayer for the success of this effort in behalf of the Christian Commission. Mayor Coon was then introduced, and delivered an earnest and eloquent address in which he set forth the objects had in view by the Commission, and urged the importance of extending to it a generous aid and encouragement. W. H. L. Barnes, Esq., followed in a stirring speech of some length, which was well received. The several speakers labored under great disadvantage because of the immense space it was necessary to fill with their voices, and the noise and confusion consequent on such a vast gathering of people, but a fraction of whom were seated, and who were too impatient to stand still many minutes together. After a short interval, a fragile young man appeared suddenly in the centre of the stage, dazzled the audience for a single second, like a spark, and went out. Previous to going out, however, he whispered something, and immediately afterward the "Euterpeans," who have so often delighted our citizens with their music, stepped upon the stage and sang a beautiful quartette about The Flag. During the course of the evening, Mrs. Grotjan sang twice, as did also Mrs. Tourney. The singers found it as hard work to sing in such a place as the speakers did to talk. Great credit is due the Presidio Band, the Euterpeans and the two ladies, for volunteering their services last evening without compensation. To-night the grand feature will be a series of beautiful tableaux, in which the most lovely young ladies and gentlemen in the city will appear. Charles Alper's Band have volunteered for this evening, and there will doubtless be some fine vocal music in addition.

The San Francisco Daily Morning Call. 25 August 1864.

"When wine is in, wit is out." So remarked Judge Shepheard yesterday morning, when J. F. Dolan offered intoxication as an excuse for belching treason - and by the way, speaking of Judge Shepheard, it is every day becoming more and more apparent that in his incumbency, the people have got the right man in the right place. The Judge further observed that when a man is under the influence of liquor, being too bold and independent for caution, he is very likely to let out his real sentiments, and that although this Dolan pretends to be a loyal man when sober, he had no confidence in the profession of loyalty in a man who, when intoxicated, would heap curses on everything pertaining to the Union cause, declare himself a strong Jeff. Davis man, wish for the destruction of the Union army, and that he was in the Southern army with a musket on his shoulder, as did Dolan. Mr. Riley, in whose saloon Dolan began his disloyal manifestation, and who is evidently a thorough-going Union man, created a sensation in the Courtroom while testifying, very decidedly in his favor, by giving forcible expression to his feelings on the subject. Dolan had gone up to his counter and called for a Jeff. Davis drink: he wanted none other than a Jeff. Davis drink. Mr. R. told him he'd be d--d if any body could get a Jeff. Davis drink in his house, and incontinently turned him out, telling him at the same time that but for the fact of his being drunk, he would give him a d--d thrashing. Dolan, notwithstanding his good loyalty when sober, was held in the sum of one thousand dollars to appear at the County Court. A little loyal when sober, and intensely disloyal when the tongue strings are loosened by liquor - and such are Copperheads.

The San Francisco Daily Morning Call. 26 August 1864.

During the examination of Dolan, yesterday, for uttering treasonable language, when Mr. Lawrence, Dolan's counsel, proposed to offer evidence to prove that the defendant was not a disloyal man when sober, Mr. Louderback, the young Prosecuting Attorney of the Police Court, happily observed that it would be like proving a man's piety as an excuse in a prosecution for using profane and obscene language. The defence was squarely met, and waived the excuse.

The San Francisco Daily Morning Call. 26 August 1864.

In a court in Minna street, between First and Second, they keep a puppy tied up which is insignificant as to size, but formidable as to yelp. We are unable to sleep after nine o'clock in the morning on account of it. Sometimes the subject of these remarks begins at three in the morning and yowls straight ahead for a week. We have lain awake many mornings out of pure distress on account of that puppy - because we know that if he does not break himself of that habit it will kill him; it is bound to do it - we have known thousands and thousands of cases like it. But it is easily cured. Give the creature a double handful of strychnine, dissolved in a quart of Prussic acid, and it will soo--oothe him down and make him as quiet and docile as a dried herring. The remedy is not expensive, and is at least worthy of a trial, even for the novelty of the thing.

The San Francisco Daily Morning Call. 27 August 1864.

The success of the Fair of the Christian Commission is no longer conjectural - it is a demonstrated fact. The receipts of the opening night were over eleven hundred dollars, those of the second, eighteen hundred dollars, and as there was a considerable larger crowd in attendance last evening than upon either of the former occasions, it is fair to presume that the receipts amounted to at least two thousand dollars - making a total, up to the present time, of about five thousand dollars. It is proposed to continue the Fair almost a fortnight longer, and inasmuch as its popularity is steadily increasing, it requires no gift of prophecy to enable one to pronounce it a grand success in advance. The prince of Bands - the Presidio - volunteered again last evening, and delighted the audience with its superb music. There was vocal music, also, of the highest degree of excellence. The first in order was a cavatina, by Mrs. Gleason; followed by a ballad, "Brightest Angel," by Mrs. Shattucx; grand aria from "Maritana," by Mr. John Gregg, of the Italian opera; "Who will care for Mother now ?" ballad, by Miss Mowry; "Heart Bowed Down by Weight of Woe," from opera of "The Bohemian Girl," by John Gregg. These several musical gems were well received and highly appreciated. This evening the tableaux will be resumed, as follows: 1. Landing of the Pilgrims; 2. Crinoline Avenged; 3. Statuary; 4. Execution of Lady Jane Grey; 5. Winning the Gloves; 6. Statuary - Fair Rosamond and Queen Eleanor. The tableaux the other evening were gotten up in fine taste and gave great satisfaction, albeit while the one representing The Queen of Sheba at the Court of King Solomon, was before the house, the effect was unduly heightened by an assistant in citizen's dress rushing bald headed into Court, before he discovered that the curtain was still up. The Court betrayed surprise; and so would the original Solomon, if the same man, in the same modern costume, had ever appeared so unexpectedly before him. The intrusion was not premeditated; the gentleman was very deaf - so deaf, indeed, that he could not see that the curtain had not yet been lowered. We forbear to urge any one to go to the Fair, to-night, for the chances are that there will be people enough there to strain the sides of the building a little, anyhow.

The San Francisco Daily Morning Call. 27 August 1864.

Sheriff Adams learned a few days ago (says the San Jose Patriot, of the 24th,) that a man named R. F. Hall, a farmer and stock raiser living on the Salinas, fifteen miles south of San Juan, was an accessory before the fact in the robbing of the Los Angeles stages. That it was at his (Hall's) house the robbers were harbored, and that he lent them a gun and hatchet, with a full knowledge of their felonious purpose. These facts coming to the mind of the Sheriff, he dispatched Under Sheriff Hall last week to make the arrest, which he succeeded in doing without difficulty, on Friday last. The Under Sheriff found R. F. Hall at home, upon his ranch, took him to Monterey, and surrendered him to the authorities of that county. The Under Sheriff states that Hall is an intelligent man, and a well-to-do stock-raiser, having six hundred head of cattle, a wife and three children. We learn that after long conversations with both Hall and his wife, the Under Sheriff obtained a good deal of information in regard to the combination of robbing gangs, and finding the officer acquainted with Hall's complicity with the robbers, a confession of the facts was obtained from him. Hall, like all others engaged in these schemes of robbing, is a Secessionist, and both he and his wife admitted that all connected with the band were bound to each other by horrid oaths to revenge any punishment inflicted on them.

The San Francisco Daily Morning Call. 27 August 1864.

The era of our prosperity is about to dawn on us. If it don't it had orter. The jingle of coin will still be heard in our pockets and tills. It's all right. The Hard Money Association held an adjourned meeting at the Police Courtroom last night, for the express purpose of considering dollars. The meeting was an adjourned one. It staid adjourned. It wasn't anything else. The room was dimly lighted. It looked like the Hall of Eolis. Silently sat some ten or a dozen of the galvanized protectors of our prosperity. They looked for all the world like an infernal council in conclave. They were dumb; but what great plans for the suppression of the green-backed dragon were born in that silence still remains hid in the arcana of the mysterious cabal. They said nothing, they did nothing. Like fixed statues they sat, all wrapped in contemplation of their mighty scheme. They didn't adjourn, for from the first it was an adjourned meeting, and it staid adjourned. Soon they all left - parted quietly, mysteriously, awfully. The lights were turned out, and - nothing more. Money is still hard.

The San Francisco Daily Morning Call. 27 August 1864.

The Chinese in this State are becoming civilized to a fearful extent. One of them was arrested the other day, in the act of preparing for a grand railroad disaster on the Sacramento Valley Railroad. If these people continue to imbibe American ideas of progress, they will be turning their attention to highway robbery, and other enlightened pursuits. They are industrious.

The San Francisco Daily Morning Call. 30 August 1864.

That industrious wild "Shiner" with his heavy brass machine for testing the strength of human muscles, is around again, in his original swallow-tail gray coat. That same wanderer, coat and machine, have been ceaselessly on the move throughout California and Washoe, for a year or more, and still they look none the worse for wear. And still the generous proposition goeth up from the wanderer's lips, in the by-places and upon the corners of the street: "Wan pull for a bit, jintlemen, an' anny man that pulls eighteen hundher' pounds can thry it over agin widout expinse." And still the wanderer seeketh the eighteen hundred pounder up and down in the earth, and findeth him not; and still the public strive for that gratis pull, and still they are disappointed - still do they fall short of the terms by a matter of half a ton or so. Go your ways, and give the ubiquitous "Shiner" a chance to find the man upon whom it is his mission upon earth to confer the blessing of a second pull "widout expinse."

The San Francisco Daily Morning Call. 31 August 1864.

"Gentle Julia," who spends eleven months of each year in the County Jail, on an average, bit a joint clear off one of the fingers of Joanna O'Hara, (an old offender - chicken thief,) in the "dark cell" in the station-house yesterday. The other women confined there say that is the way Gentle Julia always fights.

The San Francisco Daily Morning Call. 31 August 1864.

Ellen Clark and Peter Connarty were up yesterday, charged with an assault and battery committed on Dr. S. S. Foster, gymnast and athlete, at Callahan's building, on Dupont street. The Doctor says he was assailed by these persons without any provocation on his part, and suffered at their hands divers indignities and abuses, but being under a vow made some years since never to strike anyone thereafter, no matter what might be the aggravation, he quietly dropped his cane, folded his hands, and submitted. King Solomon says, "It is the glory of a man to pass by an offence." Behold what a glorious fellow Dr. Foster must be; he declared that although no three men in the profession can handle him, yet if a person were to spit in his face he would not resent it. That's a high order of Christian meekness and forbearance - a sublime instance. Other witnesses, however, tell a story less creditable to this prodigy of physical and moral firmness, and as they were about equally balanced in the weight of their testimony, the Doctor was allowed time to procure some preponderating evidence. So the case was held over until to-day.

The San Francisco Daily Morning Call. 31 August 1864.