The Washington herald., 1910-07-31
PROLOGUE.
The city.

March, the greenest month Of all, when
the Preside. and the Mission Hills, and
the islands In the bay are beautiful with
spring. there's only such little bi'
OF green gets into the city! 1t lies in the
lap Of Ave hills, climbing upward toward
their crests where the trees are all
doubled and bent by the trade wind. 1t
seems 70 give Us own color TO the grow
ing things in II. The cypress hedges are
dusty black: the eucalyptus trees are
gray as the house fronts they knock
against. and even the plaza grass looks
dark and old, as II it had been the same
grass always, and never came up new in
the spring.
But for the most part there are no
trees, and only the finest places have
gardens. There are only rows and rows
Of houses painted gray, with here and
there a white one, or a glass conserva-
tory front. But the fog and dust all
summer gray these, too, and when the
trade winds blow hard it takes the
smoke out over the east bay, and makes
that as gray as the city.
And yet the city doesn't look sad Tho
sky is too blue, and the bay Is too blue
around IT. and the flying fog. and the
wind, and the strong tide flowing In and
out OF the bay are like restless. eager
creatures that never sleep or grow tired.
When I was a very little child the
herceness Of It frightened me. All
the noises Of the city made
one harsh. threatening voice TO my
ears and the perilous water encom-
passing far as eye could reach; and the
high hills running UP TO the sky now
blinded by dust. now buried in fog, now
drenched in rain, were overpowering and
terrifying 10 me. Beyond that general
q seeming OF terror there is little I re-
f., member Of The early city, except the
. glimmer OF white tent tops against gray
fog or blue water. the loud voices In the
streets, and a vague. general impression
OF rapid and violent changes Of place
and circumstance. Through their confu-
sion three figures only move with any
clearness-my tell. teasing. father, my
grim nurse Abby. and my pale-haired
q mother. Indeed. the first distinct In
e cident that stands forth from that DIM
r. background is the death Of my mother
II was a puzzle for a child. One day
she was there, ill in bed, but visible,
palpable. able 10 speak. to smile. to kiss
the next she had disappeared. They said
she had gone away. but knew that was
nonsense; for when people went away
It was In the daytime with bags and UNI
brellas, and every one knew they were
going, and where they went. but with
my mother II was different. one day
she was there-the next she was not,
nor IN any Of the rooms Of the house
could she be found II was long before
I ceased 10 expect her back; long before
I ceased. by some process of child'S rea-
soning. 10 blame her departure on the
gray unaccountable city.
For as early as I can recall a coherent
sequence Of impressions the city ap-
peared 10 me strange and unaccountable
There was a secret shut away from me
behind every closed house front; the eu-
calyptus trees seemed TO whisper ''mys-
terry above my head; and at night, when
the fog came heaping In, thicker than
feather beds. across the Mission. and
streaming down the long hills on the
heels Of the wind, il brought an army
yond the safety OF the lighted window
pane Though I had lived among
the seven hills almost all my life;
and though in ways II had grown
familiar and even dear to me. yet
7 never seemed 70 grow quite used to the
city. It had strange tricks Of deception
that were enough 10 unsettle the finest
faith. For when l looked at it from the
windows Of my room under the roof IL
was as fat as a plate. visible in its en-
tirety from end 10 end, and it was as
easy TO find Telegraph Hill or the plaza
upon II as It was TO pick up a block
from the carpet. But when went
abroad in It it hid away from me. 1t
would never show me more than one
street at a time. and never by any chance
would II reveal 10 me. through the tall
houses. In what part of il was walking.
But by the time I was old enough to
play in the garden by myself and make
friends through the hedge with Halle
Ferguson, who lived a block below US. I
had come TO accept this trick Of the city
as somewhat less extraordinary. II was
developing other characteristics not so
fascination; and I spent hours, when
could not be out of doors. watching IT
from the windows Of my room. Father
had built what was at the time one OF
the finest houses IN San Francisco. II
had a glass conservatory at the side, and
a garden with lawn and palm in the
corner; and on rainy nights when the
wind was high. and the house was shak-
ing. I could hear the long palm-hngers
tap-tapping on my window glass. The
house stood halfway up Washington
street HILL on what was then the west
ern skirts Of the city. and from my win
dow under the roof / could look down
over the whole city 20 the east water
front. with Rincon Hill misty on the
south, and Telegraph bold on the north
OF H. BY leaning far out Of the window.
as Halle and 1 sometimes did when a
ship was coming in, we could see north
ward as far as North Beach and Alcatraz
Island; and from Abby's room across the
hall we could continue the piano.
rama around to Russian Hill. whose
high crown cut of the Golden
Gate. Il was q favorte game OF
ours, hanging out the window, with
our heads in the palm leaves. to pre-
tend stories OF what we saw going on IN
the city beneath.
All sorts Of strange and interesting
things went on In the city. We could
see the signals run up on Telegraph Hill
when a ship was sighted. And then the
express would go dashing furiously
down some street below US, the pony al
gallop; and the line would form In front
OF the post-office and stretch like q
black snake up Washington street. Or We