beautiful to waste on mere bromidic residential or business interests.

So much for the State of California. I confess with shame that that is
all I know about it, although I reiterate that that ignorance is not my
fault. So now for San Francisco.

San Francisco!

San Francisco!

Many people do not realize that San Francisco tips a peninsula
projecting west and north from the coast of California. Between that
peninsula and the mainland lies a blue arm of the blue San Francisco
bay. So that when you have bisected the continent and come to what
appears to be the edge of the western world, you must take a ferry to
get to the city itself.

I hope you will cross that bay first at night, for there is no more
romantic hour in which to enter San Francisco; the bay spreading out
back of you a-plash with all kinds of illuminated water craft and the
city lifting up before you ablaze with thousands of pin point lights;
for San Francisco's site is a hilly one and the city lies like a
jewelled mantle thrown carelessly over many peaks. You land at the Ferry
building - surely the most welcoming station in the world - walk through
it, come out at the other side on a circular place which is one end of
Market street, the main artery of the city. If this is by day, you can
see that the other end of Market street is Twin Peaks - a pair of hills
that imprint bare, exquisitely shaped contours of gold on a blue sky -
with the effect somehow of a stage-drop. If you come by night, you will
find Market street crowded with people, lighted with a display of