CHAPTER XIII.
FROM THE ORIENT DIRECT.
Arrival of a China Steamer at San Francisco.—Her Passengers and Cargo.—A Horseback Trip to Mount Diablo.—Ascending the Mountain.—The Magnificent View from the Summit.
Well, what next? We have done the Mission Dolores and its quaint old red tile-roofed, adobe walled, and curiously ornamented altar, standing amid the graves of the pious fathers, whose faith led them here and helped them to rear this structure on the far confines of heathendom, generations ago. We have galloped over the broad macadamized road—out past Lone Mountain, with its City of the Dead gathered around the tall, white shaft which marks the resting-place of the gallant Broderick, and Mount Calvary, with another City of the Dead gathering around the white cross gleaming from its summit—to Point Lobos, where we have seen the ships from Europe, Asia, Australia, the Atlantic ports, and the islands of the Pacific, come sailing in through the Golden Gate. From the balcony of the Cliff House, over-hanging the roaring breakers, we have looked down for hours with never-flagging interest, upon those strange monster survivors of the World Before the Flood, the sea-lions, as they crawled from the
