dern fire-escape would
have been a welcome aid to our progress. Sidewalks, always of plank and
often not broader than two boards placed longitudinally, led on to steps
that plunged headlong from one terrace to another. From the veranda of
one house one might have leaped to the roof of the house just below--if
so disposed,--for the houses seemed to be set one upon another, so acute
was the angle of their base-line. The town stood on end just there, and
at the foot of it was a foreign quarter.

In those days there were at least four foreign quarters--Spanish,
French, Italian, and Chinese. We knew the Spanish Quarter at the foot of
the hill by the human types that inhabited it; by the balconies like
hanging gardens, clamorous with parrots; and by the dark-eyed senoritas,
with lace mantillas drawn over their blue-black hair; by the shop
windows filled with Mexican pottery; the long strings of cardinal-red
peppers that swung under the awnings over the doors of the sellers of
spicy things; and also by the delicious odors that were wafted to us
from the tables where Mexicans, Spaniards, Chilians, Peruvians, and
Hispano-Americans were discussing the steaming _tamal_, the fragrant
_frijol_, and other fiery dishes that might put to the blush the
ineffectual pepper-pot.

Everywhere we heard the most mellifluous of languages--the "lovely
lingo," we used to call it; everywhere we saw the people of the quarter
lounging in doorways or windows or on galleries, dressed as if they were
about to appear in a rendition of the opera of "The Barber of Seville,"
or at a fancy-dress ball. Figaros were on every hand, and Rosinas and
Dons of all degrees. At times a magnificent Caballero dashed by on a
half-tamed bronco. He rode in the shade of a sombrero a yard wide,
crusted with silver embroidery. His Mexican saddle was embossed with
huge Mexican dollars; his jacket as gaily ornamented as a
bull-fighter's; his trousers open from the hip, and with a chain of
silver buttons down their flapping hems; his spurs, huge wheels with
murderous spikes, were fringed with little bells that jangled as he
rode,--and this to the accompaniment of much strumming of guitars and
the incense of cigarros.

Near the Spanish Quarter ran the Barbary Coast. There were the dives
beneath the pavement, where it was not wise to enter; blood was on those
thresholds, and within hovered the shadow of death. Beyond, we entered
Chinatown, as rare a bit of old China as is to b