de in England.... Here
is the centre of your existence for several years to come. Main Street
is to this section of the country what Wall Street is to the United
States."

They had entered a street that turned abruptly in from the country a
block below them, and rose gently for several hundred yards, when it
straggled unevenly along a higher level, to melt into the older
residence district and then out into the open country again. There was
nothing quite like this Main Street in California. At its southern end
was a long double hitching-rail--as old as the State--already flanked by
several dusty wagons and big strong horses. The long unbroken block had
as many and as various stores as are generally spread over the entire
area of a town. Jammed against one another like cabins opening out of a
steamer's gangway, and yet of no mean size, were banks and saloons;
stores for chicken feed, groceries, fruit, candy, jewelry, clothing,
hats, fancy goods, stationery; and five drug stores with tiled floors.
Many of the windows made a brave display that would not have disgraced
San Francisco. The entire west pavement was roofed, making a promenade
like a ship's deck against rain or the severities of summer; and from
this roof depended an extraordinary number of signs, often eccentric of
color and design. Above the buildings of the opposite side of the street
rose the spars of several fishing-boats; the creek finished at
Rosewater. Gwynne glanced about him with an interest that nothing else
Californian save the Mission and San Francisco had inspired. Here was a
bit of a civilization of a building era, that was almost old, everything
being relative. At all events it was old-fashioned. It was thoroughly
countrified and yet suggestive of the concentrated activities of a city.
Isabel, after leaving the hotel had made a detour, giving him a brief
glimpse of the town. On the higher streets--Rosewater lay on a cluster
of gentle hills--between Main Street and the "residence" district, he
had noticed several modern buildings of brick or stone: offices,
churches, school-houses, a solid little opera-house of colonial design,
a fine City Hall, and one of those forlorn "Carnegie Libraries" in a
state of arrested development for want of funds, but with an imposing
facade and the name of the "donor" conspicuously advertised. All this
had interested him little, although he had thought the town on its
slopes looked very pretty and quiet; but this----