We chatted awhile until the Union street car came along, and then that
policeman who said he wasn't Irish leaned over and whispered
confidentially, "If you miss this car, there'll be another." I suppose
they get lonesome.

You see how I am wandering away from my subject. That is because I
followed the Union street car. It switches from subject to subject just
like that. It begins with the wonderful retail markets of San Francisco,
and then changes abruptly to all sorts of sociological problems, then
before we know it gives us a beautiful marine view, and then drops us
down where the proletariat lives, then up to the homes of the rich and
mighty, and ends in the military.

Everyone should sight-see by the little Union street car.



The Latin Meets the Oriental



In that spot where Chinatown merges into the Latin quarter there must
be, I think, a Director of Delightful Situations who holds dominion
there. For instance, can you imagine anything more subtle than a group
of large fat women haranguing, in Italian-American, a poor thin Chinaman
over some bargains in vegetables?

In a place which marks the line of cleavage between the two quarters is
a picture store containing in its window religious pictures, enlarged