One day one of the clerks, a Southerner, and myself put up a job on Willie and offered to show him “three-hand matching.” Each choosing a different side of the coin, we won all of his cash in about ten minutes. Still in the game, he bet his matches, and, of course, we skinned him again. His lip began to tremble, but he pulled himself together and, saying, “B-b-b-busted, by God,” stalked out of the place as pretty a gentleman as ever there was. We called him back to get his matches, and tried to explain. At first he was furious at our daring to think he was no sport, but finally he saw the joke and a light came into his eyes. That was at noon; at six o’clock, passing the Chronicle building, I saw what appeared to be a pile of boys, all absolutely absorbed in something going on in their midst. In the center was Willie, beside him a pal, and between them one of those formless caps that boys affect, entirely full of dimes and quarters. He looked up and saw me; not a muscle moved in his face, but after a second, his left eye slowly closed as if in sleep. In spite of its being wide open, San Francisco was then one of the cleanest towns I have ever known. The French spirit had invaded it, and here again the Western civilization had taken the best from these foreigners—in this case, their cooking. The Poodle Dog and Marchand’s were already flourishing with their _Cabinets Particuliers_ and for the first time in my life I saw wine drunk everywhere. The prostitutes were kept to themselves in one section of the city, and any woman who stayed out on the streets alone at night dared not stop and look in a shop window or loiter on a corner, as she would be taken by the arm by a large policeman and sent to Dupont Street. This street led up the hill to Chinatown, and all along its sides were rows of one-story buildings, divided into small cubicles, each with one window and a swinging door that led directly in from the sidewalk. Everyone walked here, and it was the thoroughfare for one of the most fashionable churches, even though, sitting at the windows or leaning on the swing gates, were women of all nationalities, addressing the passers-by in the language of their country.