on Sundays by motor car and trolley, with lunch baskets and children, to
frolic or rest on the sands that front the sea.

Gay booths and kiosks skirt the Esplanade, where vendors are kept busy
supplying their wares and where everyone appears as carefree as the
gulls wheeling above the white breakers.

As you continue south along the beach you pass the chalet of the Olympic
Club, whose members sally forth on New Year's Day for their dip in the
surf. Presently you reach the Great Highway, which traverses the dykes
of sand raised by wind and water as barriers against the ocean. Ahead of
you are Sloat Boulevard and the Skyline Boulevard, which, skirting Lake
Merced, stretches south through the shore mountains, its objective Santa
Cruz, on the blue bay of Monterey.

This expanse of three miles of glistening sandy beach is a playground
where the people may watch the ever-shifting panorama of sea and sky and
hills. Seals can be seen sunning themselves on the rocks. Beyond them,
riding the swells, are fishing boats, and still farther out cargo
carriers and passenger liners make for distant points or come seeking
haven in the Port of Adventure--San Francisco.



Clubs

Club life in San Francisco has won the admiration of many men of letters
and other visitors. Kipling says appreciative things about the Bohemian
Club in his American Notes that exceed anything written by its own
historians. Julian Street, in his Abroad at Home, says that with her