, later Comandante of the
Presidio. Richardson settled on a ranch at Sausalito and in 1835, when
Governor Figueroa decided to establish a commercial city on the shore of
Yerba Buena Cove, he appointed as harbor master, this Englishman, who
was already carrying on a small business with the Yankee skippers, and
the future town was made a port of entry for all vessels trading up and
down the coast. Richardson built the first house in the little
settlement of Yerba Buena, afterwards San Francisco."

"Since this is an historic pilgrimage, we must take a look at the spot
where the first house stood. Is it far?"

"Only a few blocks," I assured him. "But we shall have to venture into
the heart of Chinatown."

We made our way up Sacramento Street, where the straight-lined grey
business blocks gave way to fantastic pagoda-like buildings gaily
decorated in green, red, and yellow. Bits of carved ivory, rich lacquer
ware and choice pieces of satsuma and cloisonne appeared in the windows.
In quiet, padded shoes, the sallow-faced, almond-eyed throng shuffled
by, us; here a man with a delicate lavender lining showing below his
blue coat, there a slant-eyed woman with her sleek black hair rolled
over a brilliant jade ornament, leading by the hand a little boy who
looked as if he had stepped out of a picture book with his yellow
trousers and pink coat.

We turned to the right at Grant Avenue, passing a building conspicuous
on account of its elaborately carved balconies hung with yellow lanterns
and ornamented with plants growing in large blue and white china pots.
The Bostonian looked curiously at the Orientals lounging about the door,
then his face brightened as he read the words, "Chop Suey."

"It's a Chinese restaurant," he exclaimed delightedly. "Let's go in for
a cup of tea, as soon as we have taken a look at your historic
landmarks."

On the northwest corner of Grant Avenue and Clay Street, we paused
before a dingy four-story brick building on whose sides were pasted long
strips of red paper ornamented with quaint Chinese characters. I
secretly wished that the building had been designed as a gay pagoda with
bright colored, turned-up eaves like many of those in Chinatown and that
its windows had displayed the choice embroideries and carved ivories of
some of its neighbors, but as we peered through the glass, we saw only
utilitarian articles for the coolie Chinaman.

"Rather a sordid setting for my story," I bemoaned. "The fi