"The Tropic Bird."
"Battered, tempest-torn, thrown hither and thither, a mere cockle shell in the hands of God's elements, the staunch ship, skilfully handled by her skipper, just managed to reach the Golden Gate.
In the Cove.
"Water-logged and mauled, the gallant Tropic Bird was then unfit to further cope with the elements, and, after being converted into a boarding house at the foot of Telegraph Hill by her courageous Captain, she was later sold and beached at Tiburon, where she now rests, her labors o'er, a worthy ship with a peaceful, useful old age."
Belvedere.
Belvedere—beautiful Belvedere it is called, and with justice, too; for who could view this thickly wooded hillside with its charming villas without exclaiming Beautiful! These villas are interspersed with graceful irregularity amid their leafy setting; the sparkling water at their feet, gay in summer, with house-boats, launches, yachts and other craft is resonant of one theme, united in one chord—the care-free, happy, guileless merriment which does more to erase the worry lines begotten of cities than all the lotions ever prepared. And this, in truth, is the veritable home of the sportsman, for across the cove on the Tiburon side is situated the Corinthian Yacht Club, famous in yachting annals.