ion for Chicago and All-Americans respectively, and both of them
were at their best. The All-Americans showed strongest at the bat,
however, and as a result we were beaten by a score of 9 to 6. During the
next week the team made a flying trip to Los Angeles, where two games
were played, we being white-washed in the first one and beaten by a
score of 7 to 4 in the second. This ended our ball-playing in California,
for though it had been the intention to play a farewell game prior
to our sailing for Australia, a steady rain that set in made this
impossible.

When we were not playing ball we were either sightseeing in the
neighborhood of San Francisco or else being entertained by some of the
numerous friends that we made during our stay in "the glorious climate
of California," the first supper at Marchand's being followed by a host
of others, and dinner parties, banquets and theater parties were so
thickly sandwiched in that it was a matter of wonderment that we were
ever able to run the bases at all.

There was scarcely a single place of interest accessible to the city
that we did not visit, from the Cliff House, which is one of the most
popular resorts that Sari Francisco boasts of, its spacious grounds and
verandas being thronged with people on Sundays and holidays, to the
Chinese quarter, a portion of the city that no visitor to the Golden
State should miss seeing, even if he has to make a journey of one
hundred miles to do so.

The Chinese quarter of San Francisco is a city in itself, and one in
which the contrasts between wealth and poverty is even more marked than
it ever was in the Seven Dials of London.

The stores of the well-to-do Chinese merchants are filled with the
richest of silks, the rarest of teas and the most artistic of
bric-a-brac, the carvings in ivory and fancy lacquer work being especially
noticeable, but close to them in the narrow streets are the abodes of
vice and squalor, and squalor of the sort that reeks in the nostrils and
leaves a bad taste for hours afterward in the mouths of the sight-seer.
At the time of our visit both the opium dens and the gambling houses
were running in full blast, and this in spite of the spasmodic efforts
made by the police to close them. John Chinaman is a natural born
gambler, and to obtain admission to one of his resorts is a more
difficult matter than it would be for an ordinary man to obtain an
audience with the Queen of England. He does his gambling behind