The restaurants of the district are surprisingly clean and all owned by Chinese. They fill to their capacity a few moments after 12 o’clock with men and women, boys and girls, of all nationalities. The bill of fare varies from coffee and rolls for five cents to a dinner:—a bowl of soup with bread, accompanied by an egg or a plate of stew, for fifteen cents. A Chinese woman and a child—a girl about ten years old—shared a ten cent plate of rice and stew. Men and girls chaffed one another familiarly. A tall, bony Korean made his lunch of coffee and sweet rolls. He said he had had the same thing for breakfast, before starting work at 7 o’clock, but sometimes varied this menu with a bowl of milk. He got his dinner at a restaurant in town for ten cents. He said he was working his way through school. In another restaurant a Porto Rican woman sat in the corner smoking a cigarette. She spoke no English. Her neighbor at table was a young Hawaiian woman—an ex-teacher—who told us she had married and given up her school; but her husband earned only $35 a month driving a baker’s wagon, so she worked during the canning season. This particular restaurant stands between two of the most notorious resorts in the district. As we left, a small, thin Hawaiian girl was about to enter the shop to buy a sweet to finish lunch. She and her grandmother worked together in one of the canneries. She had earned $4.50 the week previous. She said she was sixteen years old, but she did not look fourteen. Her grandmother, between canning seasons, earns $3 a week packing coffee. The grandfather has asthma and cannot work. The girl said they had only poi for each of their three meals, sometimes with a little dried fish or an onion for flavoring. The women of the district, when asked about the cannery girls’ presence in the district, spontaneously expressed the opinion that “it was wrong for the little ones to come here.” They said keepers of houses in the district frequently accosted the girls in the restaurants; but they had not seen any of the girls go into the houses. One of the women told us of a little Filipino wife, only fifteen years old, who worked in the cannery with her husband; but he had been sick and when the baby came they had no furniture and there was no money to provide the necessaries for either mother or child. “And so” said M—— “we women just got together and made the baby clothes, and got her a bed and some things. Why,” she added shamefacedly, “you’d have thought it was a sewing circle, to look at us.” We saw what I was told is a very rare thing indeed—a pure-blooded Hawaiian girl in one of the resorts. We spoke to her, and the Humane Officer, who was with me, and who spoke her native tongue, said the girl appeared to be weakminded.