San Francisco,
cottage-crowned and bordered with wharves and warehouses, met his
longing eye.

Such is the Legend of Devil's Point. Any objections to its reliability
may be met with the statement, that the broker who tells the story has
since incorporated a company under the title of "Flash-in-the-Pan Gold
and Silver Treasure Mining Company," and that its shares are already
held at a stiff figure. A copy of the original document is said to be on
record in the office of the company, and on any clear day the locality
of the claim may be distinctly seen from the hills of San Francisco.

THE DEVIL AND THE BROKER

A MEDIAEVAL LEGEND

The church clocks in San Francisco were striking ten. The Devil, who had
been flying over the city that evening, just then alighted on the roof
of a church near the corner of Bush and Montgomery Streets. It will be
perceived that the popular belief that the Devil avoids holy edifices,
and vanishes at the sound of a Credo or Pater-noster, is long since
exploded. Indeed, modern scepticism asserts that he is not averse to
these orthodox discourses, which particularly bear reference to himself,
and in a measure recognize his power and importance.

I am inclined to think, however, that his choice of a resting-place was
a good deal influenced by its contiguity to a populous thoroughfare.
When he was comfortably seated, he began pulling out the joints of a
small rod which he held in his hand, and which presently proved to be an
extraordinary fishing-pole, with a telescopic adjustment that permitted
its protraction to a marvellous extent. Affixing a line thereto, he
selected a fly of a particular pattern from a small box which he carried
with him, and, making a skilful cast, threw his line into the very
centre of that living stream which ebbed and flowed through Montgomery
Street.

Either the people were very virtuous that evening or the bait was not a
taking one. In vain the Devil whipped the stream at an eddy in front
of the Occidental, or trolled his line into the shadows of the
Cosmopolitan; five minutes passed without even a nibble. "Dear me!"
quoth the Devil, "that's very singular; one of my most popular flies,
too! Why, they'd have risen by shoals in Broadway or Beacon Street
for that. Well, here goes another." And, fitting a new fly from his
well-filled box, he gracefully recast his line.

For a few moments there was every prospect of sport. The line was
continually bobbing and