our face cityward, and glance
hurriedly around at the retreating crowd, you will see a reflection of
your own wistful face in theirs, and read the solution of one of the
problems which perplex the California enthusiast. Before you lies San
Francisco, with her hard angular outlines, her brisk, invigorating
breezes, her bright, but unsympathetic sunshine, her restless and
energetic population; behind you fades the recollection of changeful,
but honest skies; of extremes of heat and cold, modified and made
enjoyable through social and physical laws, of pastoral landscapes,
of accessible Nature in her kindliest forms, of inherited virtues, of
long-tested customs and habits, of old friends and old faces,--in a word
of HOME!

NEIGHBORHOODS I HAVE MOVED FROM

I.

A bay-window once settled the choice of my house and compensated for
many of its inconveniences. When the chimney smoked, or the doors
alternately shrunk and swelled, resisting any forcible attempt to
open them, or opening of themselves with ghostly deliberation, or when
suspicious blotches appeared on the ceiling in rainy weather, there was
always the bay-window to turn to for comfort. And the view was a fine
one. Alcatraz, Lime Point, Fort Point, and Saucelito were plainly
visible over a restless expanse of water that changed continually,
glittering in the sunlight, darkening in rocky shadow, or sweeping in
mimic waves on a miniature beach below.

Although at first the bay-window was supposed to be sacred to myself
and my writing materials, in obedience to some organic law, it by and by
became a general lounging-place. A rocking-chair and crochet basket
one day found their way there. Then the baby invaded its recesses,
fortifying himself behind intrenchments of colored worsteds and spools
of cotton, from which he was only dislodged by concerted assault, and
carried lamenting into captivity. A subtle glamour crept over all who
came within its influence. To apply one's self to serious work there was
an absurdity. An incoming ship, a gleam on the water, a cloud lingering
about Tamalpais, were enough to distract the attention. Reading or
writing, the bay-window was always showing something to be looked at.
Unfortunately, these views were not always pleasant, but the window gave
equal prominence and importance to all, without respect to quality.

The landscape in the vicinity was unimproved, but not rural. The
adjacent lots had apparently just given up be