n every direction; at the
church, close by, which, although not as fine as those at some of the
missions--San Luis Rey and Santa Barbara, for instance--was a good
solid structure, imposing in its appearance of strength; his own abode
adjoining; the low adobe houses of the Indians everywhere; the corrals
of livestock on the foothills in the distance. Finally his eye rested
on the vineyards stretching away toward the north and west, so far that
they seemed without end. These vineyards were the pride of the Father's
heart, for the culture of the grape was one of his hobbies, and here
at San Gabriel he had carried out his theories in viticulture so
successfully that his vineyards, and the wine and brandy made from them,
were famous throughout the length of the land, and much sought after by
the other missions, as well as by Mexico. No wonder the Father was proud
of his success, for this product was a mine of wealth to the mission.
Now, however, there was no pride in his glance, as he looked long and
sorrowfully at his vineyards; he was thinking gloomily that they were no
longer his, and that he must leave this place, which he was come to love
with all the repressed passion of his heart. It was not as though he
were going to a poor and mean mission, as were some of those in
Nueva California. Father Zalvidea had been more than once to San Juan
Capistrano, fifty miles south of San Gabriel, and knew well that it was
large, although not as rich as it had been at one time; but his was the
nature of the cat, which always returns to its old home. Father Zalvidea
knew a priest was needed at San Juan Capistrano, and none was as
available as himself; but he was human, and this last sacrifice of self
was more than he could make without a murmur.

At last he returned to his house, and, after breakfast, began to make
his preparations. A week later saw him leaving the mission with his
personal belongings, the most valuable of which appeared to be a heavy
wooden box, about the size and shape of a brick, and which he would not
allow out of his own hands, but carried with him, fastened to the pommel
of his saddle. What was in this box no one knew but the Father himself.

Behold Father Zalvidea at Mission San Juan Capistrano! Although at first
murmuring at the change of his scene of labor, yet, after finding it
inevitable, he had submitted to it with all due humility, and with
energy and even enthusiasm had thrown himself into the work at h