sh conductors.
You may hear, if you listen, the magic coming out of the ground,
"Kibble-kable, kibble-kable," only fast as anything. At noon time it
goes "Putter, putter, putter," and at bed-time, "Kuddle-kiddie,
kuddle-kiddie."

This magic is very, very important. Especially going down hill. Did you
ever, my dears, descend that precipice at the end of the Fillmore street
line? What is it that keeps you from landing flat on your nose on Union
street? Nothing but white magic. What is it that keeps you from shooting
from the Fairmont, straight down into the St. Francis? White magic.

The sense of humor is also very important. Suppose a stout person gets
on, the conductor hops immediately to the opposite side for ballast.
That takes a sense of humor. If the hilly-cum-go is full of young
people, especially sweethearts, the Uncle jiggles the hilly-cum-go
horribly, but if old people are on it goes--"See-saw, Marjory Daw,"
just gently.

I trust, dear children, that all these facts will make you appreciate
more the hilly-cum-go, and when you sit on it so cosy, so intimate with
the street, riding along looking at the scenery, you will be thankful,
that poor old horses do not have to tug you up hill, and that you have
this sturdy little creature to haul you about. Nice little, old
hilly-cum-go.

I'll Get It Changed, Lady

This expressman was a regular San Franciscan. And there is such a thing,
you know, as a regular San Franciscan. He is a native son and more. His
speech betrays him. He calls a "car" a "cahh," and when he's surprised
he says: "Yeah"! He has a permanent laugh in his eyes, and the only
thing he gets mad about is prohibition. But the particular thing that I
started to say of him is that money is to him a thing to spend. Money is
an incident to life, that's all.

He said it would be a "dollar, six-bits," and I was sorry, but I only
had a ten-dollar bill. When I said that, he just reached out and took it
from me, and said he'd get it changed, and disappeared. Now, the
significant thing, and the one that made him a regular San Franciscan,
was that he never dreamed that I would doubt his honesty in returning
with the change. And I didn't. It was this last that surprised me. If it
had been in New York--I gasp--if it had been in New York, no
expressman would have dared do such a thing because no one would have
trusted him, and if they had been so hick as to trust him, the
expressman would have had no respe