tor in the family. After breakfast the stranger was
conducted around the farm, and to the vineyard.

"I have more grapes," said the host, "than I know what to do with. Last
year I made more butts of wine than I could dispose of, and dried five
thousand pounds of raisins. I have travelled through Europe, and I think
that neither the valley of the Rhine nor the Tagus can produce such grapes
as ours. I think that the Los Angelos grape is indeed food for angels.
They are equal to the grapes of Eschol. You remember the heavy clusters
that were found there, so that two men carried one on a pole resting upon
their shoulders. See that vine now. It is six inches in diameter. And yet
it needs a prop to sustain the weight of the two clusters of grapes which
it bears."

"I have more oranges," he said, "than I can either use or give away. This
is the finest country the sun shines upon. We can live luxuriously upon
just what will grow on our own farms. But we cannot get rich. Our cattle
will only bring the value of the hides. Our horses are of little worth,
for there are plenty running wild, which a good huntsman can take with a
lasso. I think that we shall have the Americans with us before many years,
and, for my part, I hope we shall. The idea of the Californians generally,
as well as other Mexicans, that the Americans are too shrewd for them, is
true enough. But certainly there is plenty of room for a large population,
and I should prefer that the race that has most enterprise should come and
cultivate the country with us."

Thus the conversation continued for two hours. Young Carson modestly
suggested that it would be better if the Spaniards were less cruel in
breaking in their horses.

"Your horses," said he, "would make excellent buffalo hunters with proper
training. I have some horses at camp, that I intend shall see buffalo. But
why do you not deal gently with them when they are first caught? You might
thus preserve all the spirit they have in the herd. Pardon me, but I think
that in taming your horses you break their spirits."

"I sometimes think so too," the Spanish gentleman replied. "We mount one
just caught from the drove, and ride him until he becomes gentle from
exhaustion. Our custom is brought from Spain. It answers well enough with
us, where our horses go in droves; and when one is used up, we turn him
out and take up another."

When young Carson took his leave, the Spaniard, with true Castilian
courtesy, pres