The study of city sanitation was soon put into the school curriculum, and oiling pools of standing water in every quarter of the town is now a regular part of the school program in the upper grades.

Every year the club women renew the agitation, and every year the school children go out with their teachers and cover the pools with oil.
That story could be paralleled in almost any city in the United States.
Clubs everywhere organized for the intellectual advancement of the members, for the culture of music, art, and crafts, soon added to the original object a department of philanthropy, a department of public school decoration, a department of child labor, a department of civics.
The day a women's club adopts civics as a side line to literature, that day it ceases to be a private association and becomes a public institution--and the public sometimes finds this out before the club suspects it.
An Eastern woman was visiting in San Francisco a short time before the fire.

In the complication of three streets with names almost identical, she lost her way to the reception whither she was bound.

The conductor on the last car she tried before going home was deeply sympathetic.
"'Tis a shame, ma'am, them streets," he declared.

"I've always said there was no sense at all in havin' them named like that.