ion. There are many large and attractive
buildings on this street, as for example "The Call Building," "The
Chronicle Building," "The Palace Hotel," and the "Emporium." As you
walk up and down studying life you note many things, and you see good
nature depicted in the faces of the people whom you meet. They all
look bright and intelligent. I think there is something in the
surroundings and in the exhilarating atmosphere which promotes
fellowship and good feeling. There is a keen sense of humour often
manifest. Among many of the things which I saw was an illuminated
sign, with the legend: "Your bosom friend." As I drew near it I
discovered that it was over a shirt store. It was certainly most
suggestive. The women, as you see them going hither and thither, are
the picture of health and many of them can boast of real beauty. Here
are few if any pale faces, sallow complexions, cadaverous cheeks.
There are various types of nationality, but it may be said that there
is a California or San Francisco type, which is the product of climate
and environment. One is struck with the animation manifested in the
faces and movements of the men and women. They are quick too in
reaching conclusions and witty in observation. A young man in one of
the railway offices asked this question: "What," said he to me, "is
the difference in dress between a bishop and any other clergyman," I
replied that some of the bishops wore aprons, and that this was the
only real difference in daily attire--except some special mark on the
coat or the shape of the hat. I hastened to add by way of pleasantry,
that my friend Ashton, who was standing beside me, and I had not an
apron as yet. "Well," he replied promptly, "you have gotten beyond
that."

They take pleasure in telling a good story also. As Ashton and I were
travelling one afternoon to San Rafael we were joined on the Saucelito
ferry boat by a benevolent gentleman, named Ingram, who said he was a
cousin of the Bishop of London. As we talked over various matters he
finally said, "I will tell you a story. An Irishman landed in New York
after a stormy voyage; and as he walked up Broadway he thought that
he would go into the first place he saw, which looked like a Roman
Catholic church, and there offer thanks for his safe journey. When he
came to St. Paul's Chapel, with the statute of the Apostle in view, he
went into it, and kneeling down he began to cross himself. The sexton
seeing his demonstrations sai