by turns, she looks first at one bystander and then at another, addressing each invariably in the wrong tongue, gesticulating wildly as she strives to express the delight which fills her heart at this sudden recalling of the memories of her childhood, and the scenes and associations which surrounded the home of her youth. "One touch of nature makes the whole world kin;" the prejudices of race and education give way before it, and there is something of human sympathy on the face of every bystander as she moves reluctantly away, turning ever and anon for another glance at the souvenir of her native land, which, like the palm-tree in the gardens of Paris to the desert Arab, long wandering from his home, has become to her an object of adoration.
Such, in brief, are some of the scenes which one may witness, and which will most attract the attention of the stranger, in a morning's ramble through the streets of San Francisco.
