"Jim Keane; just now he is down, but some day
he is bound to be way up."

We saunter up Clay, passing Burr's Savings Bank and a few remaining
stores, to Kearny, and Portsmouth Square, whose glory is departing. The
City Hall faces it, and so does Exempt Engine House, but dentists'
offices and cheap theaters and Chinese stores are crowding in. Clay
Street holds good boarding-houses, but decay is manifest. We pass on to
Stockton, still a favorite residence street; turning south we pass, near
Sacramento, the church in which Starr King first preached, now proudly
owned by the negro Methodists. At Post we reach Union Square, nearly
covered by the wooden pavilion in which the Mechanics' Institute holds
its fairs. Diagonally opposite the southeast corner of the desecrated
park are the buildings of the ambitious City College, and east of them
a beautiful church edifice always spoken of as "Starr King's Church."

Very likely, seeing the church, I might be reminded of one of Mr. King's
most valued friends, and suggest that we call upon him at the Golden
Gate Flour-mill in Pine Street, where the California Market was to
stand. If we met Horace Davis, I should feel that I had presented one of
our best citizens.

Dinner presents many opportunities; but I am inclined to think we shall
settle on Frank Garcia's restaurant in Montgomery near Jackson, where
good service awaits us, and we may hear the upraised voices of some of
the big lawyers who frequent the place. For the evening we have the
choice between several bands of minstrels, but if Forrest and John
McCullough are billed for "Jack Cade" we shall probably call on Tom
Maguire. After the strenuous play we pass up Washington Street to Peter
Job's and indulge in his incomparable ice-cream.

On Sunday I shall continue my guidance. Churches are plentiful and
preachers are good. In the afternoon I think I may venture to invite my
friend to The Willows, a public garden between Mission and Valencia and
Seventeenth and Nineteenth streets. We shall hear excellent music in the
open air and can sit at a small table and sip good beer. I find such
indulgence far less wicked than I had been led to believe.

When there is something distinctive in a community a visitor is
supposed to take it in, and in the evening we attend the meeting of the
Dashaway Association in its own hall in Post Street near Dupont. It
numbers five thousand members and meets Sunday mornings and evenings.
Strict temper