sale. A dime was one bit, but two dimes were not two bits; and it was
only a very mean person--in our estimation--who would change his half
dollar into five dimes and get five bits' worth of goods for four bits'
worth of silver.

[Illustration: City of Oakland in 1856]

Sunday is ever the people's day, and a San Francisco Sunday used to be
as lively as the Lord's Day at any of the capitals of Europe. How the
town used to flock to Telegraph Hill on a Sunday in the olden time! They
were mostly quiet folk who went there, and they went to feast their eyes
upon one of the loveliest of landscapes or waterscapes. They probably
took their lunch with them, and their families--if they had them; though
families were infrequent in the Fifties. They wandered about until they
had chosen their point of view, and then they took possession of an
unclaimed 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