portion of the Hill. They "squatted," as was the custom of the
time. The "squatter" claimed the right of sovereignty, and exercised it
so long as he was left unmolested.

One man seemed to have as much right as another on Telegraph Hill. And
one right was always his: no one disputed him the right of vision; he
shared it with his neighbor, and was willing to share it with the whole
world. For generations he has held it, and he will probably continue to
hold it so long as the old Hill stands. From the heights his eye sweeps
a scene of beauty. There is the Golden Gate, bathed in sunset glories;
and there the northern shore line that climbs skyward where Mount
Tamalpais takes on his mantle of mist. There is Saucelito, with its
green terraces resting upon the tree-tops; and there the bit of
sheltered water that seems always steeped in sunshine,--now the haunt of
house boats, then the haven of a colony of Neapolitan fishermen; and
Angel Island, with its military post; and Fort Alcatraz, a rocky bubble
afloat in mid-channel and one mass of fortifications.

What an inland sea it is--the Bay of San. Francisco, seventy miles in
length, from ten to twelve in width; dotted with islands, and capable of
harboring all the fleets of all the civilized or uncivilized worlds! The
northern part of it, beyond the narrows, is known as the Bay of San
Pablo; the Straits of Carquinez connect it with Suisun Bay, which is a
sleepy sheet of water fed by the Sacramento and San Joaquin Rivers.

To the east is Yerba-Buena, vulgarly known as Goat Island; and beyond it
the Contra Costa, with its Alameda, Oakland, and Fruit Vale; then the
Coast Range; and atop of all and beyond all Mount Diablo, with its three
thousand eight hundred feet of perpendicularity, beyond whose summit
the sun rises, and from whose peaks almost half the State is visible and
almost half the sea,--or at least it seems so--but that's another
vision!

VI.

PAVEMENT PICTURES

We had been but a few days in San Francisco when a new-found friend,
scarcely my senior, but who was a comparatively old settler, took me by
the hand and led me forth to view the town. He was my neighbor, and a
right good fellow, with the surprising composure--for one of his
years--that is so early, so easily, and so naturally acquired by those
living in camps and border-lands.

We descended Telegraph Hill by Dupont Street as far as Pacific Street.
So steep was the way that, at intervals, the mo