 36 The San Francisco Daily Morning Call, July 1864, Part 2. The San Francisco Daily Morning Call, July 16, 1864. A Gross Outrage. Yesterday noon, Sansom Street was witness of one of those feats so common to New York City, among the butcher boys, of racing through the public streets—the driver of Clark's furniture and express wagon and some other expressman—getting their metal up as to the relative speed of their respective plugs, let out, both laying on the whip plentifully, until they overtook Krosky's grocery wagon, which Clark's vehicle, number 2859, unceremoniously knocked into pie, landing driver, groceries, and other sundries in the street. These outrages are becoming too frequent in our thickly populated streets and need the strict attention of our city authorities. Eye witnesses to this race at full speed up the railroad track freely express themselves that if any ladies or children had been unfortunate enough to be on the street at the time, nothing could have saved them from being ridden down. The San Francisco Daily Morning Call, July 16, 1864. Moses in the Bullrushes Again. On Thursday evening, officers John Conway and King had their attention attracted by the crying of a child at the Catholic orphan asylum door, where, upon examination, they discovered an infant, apparently but a few days old, wrapped up in a shawl. It was delivered to the care of the benevolent sisters at the institution. It appeared to be a good enough baby, nothing the matter with it, and it has been unaccountable to all who have heard of the circumstance what the owner wanted to throw it away for. The San Francisco Daily Morning Call, July 16, 1864. The coming man has arrived. And he fetched his things with him. John Smith was brought into the city prison last night, by officers Conway and Minson, so limbered up with whiskey that you might have hung him on a fence like a wet shirt. His battered slouch hat was jammed down over his eyes like an extinguisher. His shirt bosom, which was not clean at all, was spread open, displaying his hair-trunk beneath. His coat was old and short-waisted and fringed at the edges, and exploded at the elbows like a blooming cotton bowl, and its collar was turned up so that one could see by the darker color exposed that the garment had known better days when it was not so yellow and sunburned, and freckled with grease spots as it was now. It might have hung about its owners symmetrically and gracefully too in those days, but now it had a general hitch upward in the back, as if it were climbing him. His pantaloons were of coarse duck, very much soiled, and as full of wrinkles as if they had been of pickled tripe. His boots were not blacked, and they probably never had been. The subject's face was that of a man of forty, with the sun of an invincible good nature shining dimly through the cloud of dirt that enveloped it. The officers held John up in a warped and tangled attitude, like a pair of tongs struck by lightning, and searched him, and the result was as follows. Two slabs of old cheese, a double handful of various kinds of crackers, seven peaches, a box of lip-solve bearing marks of great age, an onion, two dollars and sixty-five cents in two purses, the odd money being considered as circumstantial evidence that the defendant had been drinking beer at a five cent house, a soiled handkerchief, a fine-tooth comb, also one of coarser pattern, a cucumber pickle in an imperfect state of preservation, a leather string, an eyeglass such as prospectors use, one buckskin glove, a printed ballad, call me pet names, an apple, part of a dried herring, a copy of the Boston Weekly Journal, and copies of several San Francisco papers. And in each and every pocket he had two or three chunks of tobacco, and also one in his mouth of such remarkable size as to render his articulation confused and uncertain. We have purposely given this prisoner a fictitious name out of the consideration we feel for him as a man of noble literary instincts suffering under temporary misfortune. He said he always read the papers before he got drunk, go thou and do likewise. Our literary friend gathered up his gross restore and staggered contentedly into a cell. But if there is any virtue in the boasted power of the press, he shall stagger out again today a free man. The San Francisco Daily Morning Call, July 17, 1864. The County Prison A visit to the county prison in Broadway above Kearney Street will satisfy almost any reasonable person that there are worse hardships in life than being emured in those walls. It is a substantial looking place, but not a particularly dreary one, being as neat and clean as a parlor in its every department. There are two long rows of cells on the main floor, thirty-one altogether, disposed on each side of an alleyway, built of the best quality of brick imported from Boston, and laid in cement, which is so hard that a nail could not be driven into it. Each cell has a thick iron door with a wicket in its center for the admission of air and light, and a narrow aperture in the opposite wall for the same purpose. These cells are just about the size and have the general appearance of a gentleman's stateroom on a steamboat, but are rather more comfortable than those dens are sometimes. A two-story bunk, a slop bucket, and a sort of table are the principal furniture. The walls inside are whitewashed and the floors kept neat and clean by frequent scrubbing. On Wednesdays and Saturdays the prisoners are provided with buckets of water for general bathing and clothes washing purposes, and they are required to keep themselves and their premises clean at all times. On Tuesdays and Fridays they clean up their cells and scrub the floors thereof. In one of these rows of cells it is pitch dark when the doors are shut, but in the other row it is very light when the wickets are open. From the number of books and newspapers lying on the bunks it is easy to believe that a vast amount of reading is done in the county prison. And smoking too, we presume, because, although the rules forbid the introduction of spirituous liquors, wine, or beer into the jail, nothing is said about tobacco. Most of the occupants of the light cells were lying on the bunks reading, and some of those in the dark ones were standing up at the wickets similarly employed. Sick Jimmy, or James Rogers, who was found guilty of manslaughter a day or two ago in killing Foster, has been permitted by Sheriff Davis to occupy one of the light cells on account of his ill health. He says his quarters would be immensely comfortable if one didn't mind the irksomeness of the confinement. We could hear the prisoners laughing and talking in the cells, but they are prohibited from making much noise or talking from one cell to another. There are three iron cells standing isolated in the yard, in which a batch of Chinamen wear the time away and smoking opium two hours a day and sleeping the other twenty-two. The kitchen department is roomy and neat, and the heavy tragedy work in it is done by trustees, or prisoners detailed from time to time for that duty. Upstairs are the cells for women. Two of these are dark iron cells for females confined for high crimes. The others are simply well-lighted and ventilated wooden rooms, such as the better class of citizens over in Washoo used to occupy a few years ago when the common people lived in tents. There is nothing gorgeous about these wooden cells, but plenty of light and white-washing make them look altogether cheerful. Madame O'Reef, McCarty, Mary Holt, and Gentle Julia, Julia Jennings, are the most noted ladies in this department. Prison-keeper Clarks, as the quiet, smiling, pious-looking Mrs. McCarty, is just the boss-thief of San Francisco, and the misnamed Gentle Julia is harder to manage and gives him more trouble than all the balance of the tribe put together. She uses awful language, and a good deal of it, the same being against the rule. Mrs. McCarty dresses neatly, reclines languidly on a striped mattress, smiles sweetly at vacancy, and labors at her crochet work with a serene indifference of a princess. The four ladies we have mentioned are unquestionably stuck after the county prison. They reside there most of the time, coming out occasionally for a week to steal something or get on a bender, and going back again as soon as they can prove that they have accomplished their mission. A lady warden will shortly be placed in charge of the women's department here, in accordance with an act of the last legislature, and we feel able to predict that Gentle Julia will make it mighty warm for her. Most of the cells above and below are occupied, and it is proposed to put another story on the jail at no distant day. We have no suggestions to report concerning the county jail. We are of the opinion that it is all right, and doing well. The San Francisco Daily Morning Call, July 17, 1864 Independent Candidate for Stockton Officer Forner arrested and brought into the city prison at noon yesterday a wanderer named Patrick O'Hara, who had been sleeping in the sandhills all night and tramping dreamily about the wharves all day, with a bag containing nearly $700 in gold sticking suggestively out of his coat pocket. He looked a little wild out of his eyes, and did not talk or act as if he knew exactly what he was about. He objected to staying in the jail, and he was averse to leaving it without his money, and so he was locked up for the present safety and well-being of both. He begged hard for his worshipped treasure, and there were pathos and moving eloquence in the poor fellow's story of the weary months of toil and privation it had cost him to gather it together. He said he had been working for a Mr. Woodworth on a ranch near Petaluma, and they set two men to watching him, and when he found it out he wouldn't stay there any longer, but packed up and came down here on the boat night before last. He also said they had given him an order on Mr. Woodworth here for $40 for a month's work, but when he got on the boat he found it was dated 1833, and he threw it overboard. He brought a carpet sack with him and left it at some hotel, but he couldn't find the place again. He says he wants to go and stay a while with some priest, and if he can get a chance of that kind he had better take it, and keep away from the wharves and the sand-hills, otherwise somebody will go through him the first thing he knows. The San Francisco Daily Morning Call July 17, 1864 Juvenile Criminals Two children, a boy 14 years old and his sister age 16, were brought before the police court yesterday charged with stealing, but the hearing of the case, although begun, was not finished. Judge Shepard, whose official dealing with ancient criminals has not yet hardened his heart against the promptings of pity for misguided youth, said he would examine the prisoners at his chambers to the end that he might only sentence them to the industrial school if it were possible, and thus save them from the shame and the lasting stigma of imprisonment in a felon's cell for their crime. He said there was crime enough in the land without driving children to its commission by heaping infamy and disgrace upon them for their first transgression of the law. He was right. It is better to save than to destroy, and that justice is most righteous, which is tempered by mercy. The San Francisco Daily Morning Call July 19, 1864 Assault Mrs. Catherine Moran was arraigned before Judge Cowles yesterday on a charge of assault with an axe upon Mrs. Eliza Marquis with intent to do bodily injury. A physician testified that there were contused wounds on plaintiff's head and also a cut through the scalp which bled profusely. The fuss was all about a child, and that is the strangest part about it, as if, in a city so crowded with them as San Francisco, it were worthwhile to be particular as to the fate of a child or two. However, mothers appear to go more by instinct than political economy in matters of this kind. Mrs. Marquis testified that she heard war going on among the children, and she rushed down into the yard and found her Johnny sitting on the stoop, building a toy wagon, and Mrs. Moran standing over him with an axe, threatening to split his head open. She asked the defendant not to split her Johnny. The defendant had once turned upon her, threatening to kill her, and struck her two or three times with the axe. When she, the plaintiff, grabbed the defendant by the arms and prevented her from scalping her entirely. Blood was flowing profusely. Mr. Kildig described the fight pretty much as the plaintiff had done, and said he parted or tried to part the combatants, and that he called upon Mr. Moran to assist him. But that neutral power said the women had been sourer a good while, let them fight it out. Another witness substantiated the main features of the foregoing testimony, and said the warriors were all covered with blood, and the children of both, to the number of many dozens, had fled in disorder and taken refuge under the house, crying, and saying their mothers were killing each other. Mrs. Murphy, for the defense, testified as follows. I was cumin long, and Mrs. Moran says to me, says she, This is the red woodstick she tried to take me life with, or one of them, other sticks. Mrs. Murphy, dear, and says I, Mrs. Moran, darling. Here she was shut off merely because the court did not care about knowing what Mrs. Moran told her about the fight, and consequently we have nothing further of this important witness's testimony to offer. The case was continued. Seriously, instead of a mere ordinary she-fight, this is a fuss of some consequence, and should not be lightly dealt with. It was an earnest attempt at manslaughter, or woman-slaughter at any rate, which is nearly as bad. The San Francisco Daily Morning Call, July 19, 1864. Real del Monte. In the Fourth District Court yesterday, an order was granted to the plaintiff in the suit of J. J. Robbins v. Real del Monte Gold and Silver Mining Company at all, requiring the defendants to show cause why they should not be enjoined from selling stock for the collection of an assessment levied for the purpose of further improving their mine. It appears that stockholders are becoming dissatisfied with the management of the concern, and want to see the end of assessments for further improvements. It is an idea entertained by some inconsiderate persons that a mind should at some period of the world's history begin to pay its own expenses. Rolling into prosperity on the wheels of assessments may do for a while, but there's a time when dividends should relieve the drain on the individual's private resources, and he looks forward expectantly, but hope deferred maketh the heart sick, etc. The San Francisco Daily Morning Call, July 20, 1864. A Stage Robber Amongst Us Almond Glasby, or Gillespie, one of the Placerville stage robbers, was brought up from San Jose yesterday by Sheriff Van Eaton and lodged in the station house until the Sacramento boat left. He was captured at Hall's Tavern between San Jose and the new Almaden Mines after a severe fight on the night that the Sheriff's Party killed his two comrades. He confesses that he belonged to an organized band of robbers, under the command of Ingram, who held a Captain's Commission in the Confederate Army, signed by Jeff Davis, and says they were armed and equipped by secessionists throughout the state, among whom he mentioned several who were well known in Santa Clara County, and two in this city. He says he is only nineteen years old, but to a disinterested spectator he looks older by two or three years. The San Francisco Daily Morning Call, July 21, 1864. Amazonian Pastimes Molly Livingston and two friends of hers, Therese and Jesse, none of whom are of, at all, doubtful reputation, cast aside their superfluous clothing and engaged in a splendid triangular fistfight in Spulford Alley about seven o'clock yesterday evening. It was a shiftless row, however, without aim or object, and for this reason officers Everard and McCormick broke it up and confined the parties to it in the city prison. It originated in whiskey. The San Francisco Daily Morning Call, July 21, 1864. Detective Rose Again As foolish a thing as a man can do is to steal anything while Officer Rose is in town. A Mrs. Ashley, who lives in Bush between Powell and Mason Streets, was robbed of a gold belt buckle, some silver spoons, etc., on Saturday the 9th, and yesterday she laid the matter before one of our police officers, who told her to find Officer Rose and give him charge of the matter. She found him, but she was too late for her information to be of any use, he had already recovered the stolen property and tracked the thief to his den also. It is said he follows people by the footprints they make on the brick pavements. The San Francisco Daily Morning Call, July 22, 1864. The Boss Earthquake When we contracted to report for this newspaper, the important matter of two earthquakes a month was not considered in the salary. There shall be no mistake of that kind in the next contract, though. Last night, at twenty minutes to eleven, the regular semi-monthly earthquake, due the night before, arrived twenty-four hours behind time, but it made up for the delay in uncommon and altogether unnecessary energy and enthusiasm. The first effort was so gentle as to move the inexperienced stranger to the expression of contempt and brave but very bad jokes. But the second was calculated to move him out of his boots, unless they fitted him neatly. Up in the third story of this building, the sensation we experienced was as if we had been sent for and were mighty anxious to go. The house seemed to waltz from side to side with a quick motion, suggestive of sifting cornmeal through a sieve. Afterward it rocked grandly to and fro like a prodigious cradle, and in the meantime several persons started downstairs to see if there were anybody in the streets so timid as to be frightened at a mere earthquake. The third shock was not important, as compared with the stunner that had just preceded it. That second shock drove people out of the theatres by dozens. At the Metropolitan we were told that Franks, the comedian, had just come on the stage. They were playing the Ticket of Leave man, and was about to express the unbounded faith he had in May. He paused until the jarring had subsided, and then improved and added force to the text by exclaiming, It will take more than an earthquake to shake my faith in that woman! And in that Franks achieved a sublime triumph over the elements, for he brought the house down, and the earthquake couldn't. From the time the shocks commenced last night, until the windows had stopped rattling, a minute and a half had lapsed. The San Francisco Daily Morning Call, July 22, 1864. Good effects of a high tariff. We are pleased to hear of the prosperous condition of the Dashaway Society. Their ranks, we are assured, are constantly filling up. The draft with them is working well, causing many to volunteer. The bounty they receive is sobriety, respect, and health, and the blessings of families. We will not attribute all these new recruitings to the high tariff, and the difficulty of obtaining any decent whiskey. But some who join give this, as their reason. They fear strictyne more than inebriation. They find it impossible to exhaust all the tarantula juice in the country, as they have been endeavouring to do for a long while, in hopes to get at some decent rum, after the tangle-leg should have been swallowed, and so conclude to save tariff on liquors and life by coming square up to the hydrant. Their return to original innocence and primitive vibrations will be gladly welcomed. Water is a forgiving friend. After years of estrangement it meets the depraved taste with the same friendship as before. Water bears no enmity. But it must be a strange meeting—water pure and the tongues of some of our solid drinkers of bourbon and its dishonest relations. Alkalai water to the innocent mouths of cattle from the waters of the Mississippi could not seem stranger nor more disagreeable at first, but it will come around right at last. Success to the tariff and the dash-aways. The San Francisco Daily Morning Call July 22, 1864. A scene at the police court. The hostility of colour. A long file of applicants, perhaps seventy-five or eighty, passed in review before the police commissioners yesterday afternoon, anxious to be employed by the city in snatching drunks, burglars, petty larseners, wife-whippers, and all offenders generally, under the authority of a star on the left breast. One of the candidates, a fine burly specimen of an emeralder, leaned negligently against the door-post, speculating on his chances of being passed, and at the same time whiffing industriously at an old Dideen blackened by a thousand smokes. He was smoking thus thoughtfully, when a contraband passed him, conveying a message to some official in the court. There goes another applicant! said a wag at his elbow. What? asked the smoker. A darkie, looking for a sit on the police, was the reply. And do they give niggers a chance on the police? Of course! Then, but jeez! said Pat, knocking the ashes out of his pipe and stowing it away. I'm out of the ring! I wouldn't demane myself patrolling o' nights with a nagger! He gave one glance at the innocent and unsuspecting darkie, and left the place in disgust. The San Francisco Daily Morning Call, July 22, 1864. Rough on Keating! All of a sudden we have imbibed a most extravagant respect for grand juries. Judge Cowles fined a man two hundred and fifty dollars yesterday, and sentenced him to five days imprisonment in the county jail, for cherishing a sentiment of the opposite character. Otto Keating was summoned before the grand jury for the May term, and refused to answer one or two of the questions asked him. Judge Cowles hauled him up for contempt, but let him go without punishment. He was again called for by the grand jury, when he answered the questions he had declined to answer before, but refused to answer some new ones that were asked him. The punishment, we have mentioned, was the result. The great popularity of Judge Cowles, with the people of San Francisco, rests upon two rare judicial traits, which are strongly developed in his character. These, the quality of mercy, with the quality of discerning where it is proper to exercise it, and the quality of fearlessly administering red hot penalties that make a transgressor fairly waltz when he deserves it. An innocent man is safe enough in the county court, but if he is guilty, he ought always to do what he honestly can to get a change of venue. The San Francisco Daily Morning Call, July 22nd, 1864. Arrest of a Sassash bishop. Reverend H. H. Kavanaugh, represented as a bishop of the M.E. Church South, whose home until quite recently has been in Georgia, but who for some time past has been traveling around in this part of the state, organizing churches and preaching the gospel as the M.E. Church South understand it, to many congregations of rebel sympathizers, was on Monday arrested by Captain Jackson, United States Marshal for the Southern District of this state. The arrest was made at Black's Ranch, Salt Spring Valley, Calaveras County, whilst the bishop was holding a camp meeting. By the Reverend Gentleman's request, he was granted his parole until he could preach a sermon on promise to report himself at this city yesterday for passage on the San Francisco steamer, which he did accordingly. We cannot state the precise charges on which he was arrested. Getting military information is about the slowest business we ever undertook. We clipped the above paragraph from the Stockton Independent at eleven o'clock yesterday morning, and went skirmishing among the chief captains, as the Bible modestly terms brigadier generals, in search of further information, from that time until half past seven o'clock in the evening before we got it. We will engage to find out who wrote the Junius letters in less time than that if we have a mind to turn our attention to it. We started to the Provost Marshal's office, but met another reporter who said, I suppose I know where you're going, but it's no use. Just come from there. Military etiquette and all that, you know. Those fellows are mum. Won't tell anything about it. Damn! We sought General McDowell, but he had gone to Oakland. In the course of the afternoon we visited all kinds of headquarters and places, and called on General Mason, Colonel Drum, General Van Boekelen, Leland of the Occidental, Chief Burke, Keating, Emperor Norton, and everybody else that would be likely to know the government's business, and knowing it, be willing to impart the coveted information for a consideration such as the wealthy fraternity of reporters are always prepared to promise. We did finally get it, from a high official source, and without any charge whatever. But then the satisfaction of the thing was all sapped out of it by exquisite touches on the raw, which means hints that military matters were not proper subjects to branch out on in the popular sensational way so palatable to the people, and mild but extremely forcible suggestions about the unhappy fate that has overtaken fellows who ventured to experiment on contraband news. We shall not go beyond the proper limits, if we fully appreciate those suggestions, and we think we do. We were told that we might say the military authorities, hearing where the bishop had come from, and maybe what he was about, we will just chance that notion for a flyer, did send Captain Jackson to simply ask the bishop to come down to San Francisco. He didn't arrest the bishop at all, but most anybody would have come on a nice little invitation like that, without waiting for the formal compliment of an arrest. Another excessively smart suggestion of ours, and we do hope it isn't contraband. The Captain only requested the bishop to come down here and explain to the authorities what he was up to, and he did. He arrived here night before last, and explained it in writing, and that document and the bishop have been taken under advisement, and we think we were told a decision had been arrived at, and that it was not public property just yet, but we are not sure, and we had rather not take any chances on this part of the business. We do know, however, that the bishop and his document are still under advisement as far as the public are concerned, and we would further advise the public not to get in a sweat about it, but to hold their grip patiently until it is proper for them to know all about the matter. This is all we know concerning the bishop and his explanation, and if we have branched out too much and shed something that trenches upon that infernal contraband rule, we want to go home. The San Francisco Daily Morning Call, July 23, 1864. Demoralizing Young Girls. Yesterday, in the police court, George Lambertson and Ralph Doyle, one a full-grown man and the other a boy of fourteen, pleaded guilty to the charge of exhibiting obscene pictures. Officers Lise, Everard, and Rose, sometimes since, got on the track of a regular system of prostituting young girls, which was being carried on by a number of men and boys who had banded themselves together for the purpose, and their efforts have resulted in the arrest of the two persons above named, and the unearthing of two more of the boys, and two or three men, who are probably all captured by this time. The name of one of the men is Emile Bouffendot. Two of the boys are Harry Fenton and George Ayres. The men made use of the boys to decoy the girls to their rooms, where their ruin was affected. These rooms were well stocked with obscene books and pictures. The officers say that the further they probe the matter the more astounding are the developments, and the more widespread the operations of this infamous association are discovered to be. The names of some fifteen of these debauched girls have already been ascertained, and others are suspected of properly belonging on the list. Some of them are members of families of high respectability, and the balance, as young Doyle phrases it, are bald-headed, that is, unbonneted street girls. The ages of the lot vary from ten or twelve to fifteen. Ralph Doyle says that he and the other two boys, Ayres and Fenton, were confidants, but that he knows of no gang, nor confederation of men and boys together in the wretched business. He is aware, however, that a large number of men and boys and young girls are in the habit of visiting each other's homes, but on their own individual responsibility only, he thinks. He says the girls showed him the obscene pictures, instead of his being guilty of that sort of conduct with them, and he is further of the opinion that they have done the seducing in most of the other cases as they did in his. He is a fine, handsome, manly little fellow, uses excellent language, and his bearing is quiet and perfectly well bred. He tells his story the same way every time, and we believe he tells the truth. All his revelations, however, will not do to print. The boys concerned in this extraordinary affair will be sent to the industrial school, as they are all very young, and it is to be hoped that the law will be stretched to its utmost tension for the punishment of the men. Since the above was in type, we have learned that the terrible developments detailed above were brought to light through the energy and industry of the master of one of the schools. He had ascertained the names and addresses of a great number of men and boys not mentioned in this article, who were implicated in these villainous transactions, and was in a fair way of securing their apprehension, but the premature disclosure of the facts and their publication in the evening papers, it is feared, will put the scoundrels on their guard and prevent their capture. Furthermore, according to our latest information, there are thirty names of debauched young girls on the list. The man, Lambertson, by whom a poor orphan girl of fifteen has become insane, has made over to her in the hope of escaping the penitentiary such property as he owned in the city. We are also very glad to learn from the best authority that Ralph Doyle, so far from being a leader among the miscreants, as has been said of him, was the most innocent in the party, and that it is not in his nature to do an unworthy action when left to the guidance of his own good instincts. The San Francisco Daily Morning Call, July 23rd, 1864. False pretenses. A few days ago, L. Kahn bought ten thousand cigars from a man named Cohen, promising to pay twenty dollars per thousand in gold for them on delivery. He had them taken and left in a cellar, and told the plaintive to call in an hour or so afterwards and get his money. When the man called, according to appointment, Kahn was absent, and so were the cigars. And finally, when he did succeed in collaring his debtor, the fellow tendered greenbacks in payment of his bill. The result was a charge preferred in the police court against Kahn for obtaining goods under false pretenses. After a patient hearing of the case, Judge Shepard said he would send it up to the county court, placing defendant under one thousand dollars bonds. And if they felt there, as he did, Kahn would certainly be punished for the crime he had been charged with, or perhaps even for grand larceny, which was the real spirit of the offence. He said Kahn's conduct was based in fraud and carried out in fraud. There was fraud in its conception and fraud in its execution, and he considered the man as guilty as the occupant of any jail in the country. The counsel for defendant said, if there was any fraud in the matter, it probably lay in the issuance of the greenbacks in the first place. Judge Shepard said, I am aware that you are a union man, sir, but not withstanding that. I will permit no more such language as that to be used in this court. And I will punish any man who repeats the offences here for contempt or imprison him for treason. For I regard it as nothing more nor less than treason. It is your duty and mine, sir, to uphold the government and forbear to question the righteousness of its acts. The lawyer protested his innocence of any intention to commit the chiefest among crimes, and quiet was restored again. The San Francisco Daily Morning Call, July 23, 1864. Rape. Right before last, Mrs. Margaret McQuinn complained to Captain Lees that she had been raped by the driver of hack number twenty-eight, and officer Blitz, whose duty it is to attend to the followers of that occupation, was deputed to ferret out the criminal and arrest him, which he did. The man's name is Barney Gillan. The woman is large and strongly built in about thirty years of age. From her story, all of which it is not by any means necessary to publish, it would seem that she is supernaturally green. She says she arrived here from Manchester, New Hampshire, last Monday in the Constitution, and since then three different hack men have endeavored to entrap her. Day before yesterday, Gillan, under pretense of hunting a situation as a servant for her among some respectable families in the country, with whom he represented himself as being very popular, took her to some out-of-the-way den kept by a Frenchman near the Mission, and ruined her by force, as above stated. She returned to town with him, and then excused herself and went and laid the matter before the detective department. There is a charge of this kind brought against some hack men or other about once every five or six months, and it is fully time an example were made that would forever put a stop to such villainy on their part. Gillan has been admitted to bail in the sum of one thousand dollars. The San Francisco Daily Morning Call, July 24, 1864. A Merited Penalty. We chronicle the usual visitations of justice upon those persons whose errors are venial, and the result of an unfortunate appetite or temper, always with a feeling of regret that the well-being of society demands inflexibly a judgment according to the law and the testimony. We can compassionate the man whose domestic troubles or business reverses drive him to drink frenzy from the bowl, or who in a momentary heat retaliates on wanton injury or insult or heirs through ignorance, but there are instances where the only regret is that the power of the judge to punish is limited to a penalty not at all commensurate with the magnitude of the offense. In the case of George Lambertson, who was arrested for infamous demoralizing practices with young schoolgirls, and who pleaded guilty in the police court, Judge Shepherd inflicted upon the miscreant the heaviest penalty prescribed by the law for his crime. Lambertson receives a term of three months in the county jail, and a fine of five hundred dollars, which fine will extend the term of imprisonment until the full amount is served out at the rate of two dollars per day, in addition to the three months aforesaid, is a part of the penalty. The San Francisco Daily Morning Call, July 26, 1864. CONCERNING HACKMEN At the next meeting of the Board of Supervisors, Mr. Cummings, a member of the 10th District, will introduce an ordinance requiring all drivers of hacks, as well as hack owners, to take out license to the end that the eternal dodging of responsibility by that class of the community may be checkmated. One plan of extorting money from passengers which is followed by hackmen under the present loose system might be frustrated, perhaps, by Mr. Cummings' proposed bill. The plan we refer to is this. A stranger takes a hack at the steamboat landing, and makes a bargain for his transportation to a hotel. On the road the driver's confederate takes the reins, delivers the passenger at the hotel, and charges him double, swearing he knows nothing of the previous contract. We were under the impression that the owner of the hack was responsible in cases of illegal charging, but those whose business it is to know tell us it is not so. It ought to be at any rate. It doesn't even require horse sense to know that much, and while the subject is before the board, an ordinance is to be framed requiring the hackmen around Portsmouth Square to stay where they belong, and not collect in squads obstructing the sidewalks and making a general nuisance of themselves. So far, senior Blitz and the police court, and the Board of Supervisors, all put together, have not been able to keep the hackmen straight. One of the fraternity, Barney Gillan, is up to-day for committing a rape on a defenseless young woman, thirty-five years of age, and they will probably make him sweat for it. The San Francisco Daily Morning Call, July 30, 1864. Trot her along. For several days a vagrant two-story frame house has been wandering listlessly about Commercial Street above this office, and she has finally stopped in the middle of the thoroughfare, and is staring dejectedly towards Montgomery Street, as if she would like to go down there, but really don't feel equal to the exertion. We wish they would trot her along and leave the street open. She is an impassable obstruction and an intolerable nuisance where she stands now. If they set her up there to be looked at, it is all right. But we have looked at her as much as we want to, and are anxious for her to move along. We are not stuck after her any. The San Francisco Daily Morning Call, July 30, 1864. Mrs. O'Farrell. This faded relic of a gentility, or rather this washed-out relic for every tint of that description is gone, was brought to the station house yesterday in the arms of Officer's Marsh and Ball in a state of beastly intoxication. She cursed the Union and lauded the Confederacy for half an hour, and then she cast up part of her dinner. During the succeeding half-hour, or perhaps it might have been three-quarters, she continued to curse the Federal Union and belch-fuming and offensive blessings upon the Southern Confederacy, and then she cast up the balance of her dinner. She seemed much relieved. She so expressed herself. She observed to the prison keeper, and casually to such as were standing around, although strangers to her, that she didn't care a damn. She said it in a tone of quiet cheerfulness and contentment, which marks the troubled spirit at peace again after its stormy season of unrest. So they tackled her once more and jammed her into the dark cell and locked her up. To such of her friends as gentle love for her may inspire, with agonized suspense on her account, we would say, Banish your foreboding fears, for she's safe. The San Francisco Daily Morning Call, July 30, 1864. END OF THE RAPE CASE Barney Gillan, the hack-man against whom a charge of rape was preferred some days since, had an examination yesterday before Judge Shepard. At first the tears and apparent distress of the victim of the alleged outrage, while occupying the witness's stand, were calculated to move the hearts of those present and acquainted with the facts. But as the examination progressed, the matter began to assume a very questionable phase, and it was soon apparent that if there had been any rape committed at all, it was of a very modified type. True, the lady did enter her protest and had a notion to Halu, when Gillan was about taking undue liberties with her, but she sought a refuge and assuaged her grief that night at the Portsmouth Hotel in the embraces of a benevolent person with whom she had met for the first time that day. He protected her injured innocence until seven o'clock the next morning, when she sallied forth to seek another protector. The case was discharged. The San Francisco Daily Morning Call, July 30, 1864. MORE SANITARY MALASSES The bark Yankee arrived from Honolulu yesterday, bringing another hundred barrels of molasses to Reverend H. W. Bellows, contributed by Captain McKee, and to be sold for the benefit of the sanitary fund. We noticed a like donation from the same distant patriot a day or two ago, which was sold here and netted upwards of twelve hundred dollars to the fund. Captain McKee's sugar plantation on one of the Hawaiian Islands, once this molasses comes, is rather extensive. He has seven hundred acres of cane growing, and this area will be increased during the next few months to nine hundred or a thousand acres. There is no water on the plantation, and irrigation has to be resorted to. Even the water required for the steam engine and other purposes in the manufacture of sugar has to be brought from a spring on a mountain three miles distant through iron pipes. Yet so rich is the land that six tons of sugar have been made on a single acre, and the average is about three tons. At his own mill Captain McKee manufactures from eight thousand to ten thousand pounds of sugar a day. During the present year his plantation has been very successful, and promises to produce the largest amount of sugar yet obtained from any one estate in the Hawaiian Islands. Its product will probably realize at present rates this year over one hundred thousand dollars, and, altogether, its chances, in a business point of view, may be regarded as rather a debtor thing than gold and curry. The estate is expected to yield over two million pounds of sugar next year. Captain McKee has invented a molasses pan and a double cane cart, which are spoken of as great triumphs of Yankee genius. The San Francisco Daily Morning Call July 31st, 1864. Disgusted and Gone. That melancholy old-frame house that has been loafing around Commercial Street for the past week got disgusted at the notice we gave her in the last issue of the call, and drifted off into some other part of the city yesterday. It is pleasing to our vanity to imagine that if it had not been for our sagacity in divining her hellish designs and our fearless exposure of them, she would have been down on Montgomery Street today playing herself for a hotel. As it is, she has folded her tents like the Arabs and quietly stolen away behind several yoke of oxen. The San Francisco Daily Morning Call July 31st, 1864. Another Lazarus. The lamented Lazarus departed this life about a year ago, and from that time until recently poor bummer has mourned the loss of his faithful friend in solitude, scorning the sympathy and companionship of his race with that stately reserve and exclusiveness which has always distinguished him since he became a citizen of San Francisco. But for several weeks past we have observed a vagrant black puppy has taken up with him and attends him in his promenades, bums with him at the restaurants, and watches over his slumbers as unremittingly as did the sainted Lazarus of other days. Whether that puppy really feels an unselfish affection for bummer, or whether he is actuated by unworthy motives, and goes with him merely to ring in on the eating-houses through his popularity at such establishments, or whether he is one of those fawning psychophants that fasten upon the world's heroes in order that they may be glorified by the reflected light of greatness, we cannot yet determine. We only know that he hangs around bummer and snarls at intruders upon his repose, and looks proud and happy when the old dog condescends to notice him. He ventures upon no puppyish levity in the presence of his prince, and assays no unbecoming familiarity, but in all respects conducts himself with a respectful decorum with which such a puppy so situated should display. Consequently, in time, he may grow into high favor. The San Francisco Daily Morning Call July 31st, 1864. Berglary. On Friday morning Catherine Leary, who lives in Waverly Place, got up and found all the doors in her house open, and a silk dress worth seventy-five dollars missing, and also an alarm clock said to be worth ten dollars, but we beg to be left unmolested in the opinion that it isn't worth six bits if it didn't know enough to give the alarm when the house was full of thieves. Officer Rose of the Detective Police recovered the silk dress yesterday, and the imbecile clock, and also the Chinaman who is supposed to have committed the Berglary. Hoping the accused may prove innocent, we prefer not to blast his reputation by publishing his name yet, which is Ah Chum. The San Francisco Daily Morning Call July 31st, 1864. Custom House resignations. Yesterday afternoon, the Deputy Collector, Auditor, and fifteen other Custom House Officers sent in their resignations, assigning as a reason for doing so, that with green bags at the present rates, forty cents, their wages were less than those received by day laborers, and being inadequate to defray the expense of living they were compelled to resign. Custom House salaries are not very heavy, even when paid in gold. We are informed that the Collector telegraphed to Washington at once concerning the matter. The San Francisco Daily Morning Call July 31st, 1864. The Comanche. Work on the Comanche is progressing rapidly. The foreman observed yesterday with the air of a man who has satisfied his listener is an uncommonly intelligent man, and knows all about things, that the garboard streak had been up some time. It is not possible to conceive the satisfaction we derive from that information. She must be all right now, isn't she? One of those gunboats is generally all right when she has her garboard streak up, perhaps. Such has been our experience. It is limited, but that is of no real consequence, probably. We looked around a little, and noticed that there was another streak up also, running four and aft, and several streaks running crossways, and enough old iron lying around to make as many more streaks as they want if it holds out. It was excessively cheerful and gratifying. The public may rest easy. Work on the Comanche is streaking along with extraordinary velocity.