his benevolent face many times before his panting audience
was allowed to walk out in the open and catch a glimpse of the white
ocean gleaming as a mass of melted silver till it met the dull, white
horizon. A dozen fig trees before the door gave the only shade about the
place excepting where the half ruined walls of the old church sheltered
the Father's little garden. The congregation was soon dispersed, most of
them riding to their homes in the foothills, while a few, who lived in
the neighbourhood of the village, walked quietly down toward the sea,
and the bright, cultivated gardens, which were kept green by the
ever-flowing arroyo which here spread its rich alluvial deposits over
the land in the winter time.

I had ridden over the night before with all my household, and as many
from the neighbouring ranchos had joined us on the way, there was as
large a cavalcade as the little village had seen since Viscaino's pilot,
Francisco Bolanos, christened the spot in 1602.

It was Padre Arguello's farewell, as he was to sail for Acapulco in a
few days, and the country people had come for many miles to do him
honour. All had been much surprised when old Ambrosia Moreno entered the
church and, with Ysidria, knelt through the service. Madre Moreno had
not been to service or confession since her father's death, indeed I had
heard her once make a blasphemous jest about the most holy Mass, and
good Padre Andreas at San Anselmo, in whose flock she was the blackest
sheep, gave her up as lost here and hereafter; so there was much
surprise at the Madre's action. Catalina was simply indignant at this
desecration, as she called it, and wondered that the beads had not
burned her fingers.

The sermon was long and dull, but I did not mind these defects, or
rather thought them virtues, for my mind was not interrupted in the
contemplation of Ysidria.

I felt like laughing with delight all the day, and wore far from what is
called now-a-days, a "Sunday face."

There was a bull and bear fight in the afternoon, but Ysidria and I
preferred a walk on the bluffs; of course, Madre Moreno went with us,
but she considerately, or by chance, kept by herself. Madre Moreno had
allowed her niece and myself a freedom of intercourse not at all in
keeping with Californian customs, but she took upon her the duties of
duena at Bolinas, so that the many visitors should find no chance for
wonder or remark. Catalina and the others of my household, went to the