Now it is teeming with life, and it looks
down with seeming satisfaction on miles and miles of streets and
warehouses and dwellings of rich and poor. But there are not many poor
people in this Queen City. In all my wanderings about the city for a
month, I was never accosted by a professional beggar. Everybody could
find work to do, and all seemed prosperous and happy. Off to the
west, serving as a sentinel, is Russian Hill, 360 feet high. It is
a striking feature in the ever-expanding city, and it is a notable
landmark for the San Franciscan. In the southeastern part of the city
is Rincon Hill, 120 feet in height, attracting to itself the interest
of that part of the population whose homes are in its shadow. There
are other hills of lesser importance as to altitude, but over their
tops extend long streets and broad avenues lined with the dwellings of
a contented and thrifty people. The business blocks and hotels, the
printing houses and railway and steamship offices, the stores and art
galleries, the places of amusement and lecture halls, the stores and
shops, the homes and the churches, fill all the spaces between those
hills in a compact manner and run around them and stretch beyond them,
and at your feet, as you stand on an eminence, is a panorama of life
which at once arrests your attention and enchains your mind.
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