and.
Mission San Juan Capistrano was fallen away sadly from the high position
it had held ten years before: neophytes were still many, but they
had been allowed to follow their own devices; the religious life,
consequently, was neglected, as well as the cultivation of the mission
lands. It was a sad prospect that met the Father's eyes, the first time
he took a survey of the fields and corrals and vineyards of the mission.
On every side his well-trained eye saw the marks of lack of care in
husbandry--the fields of wheat and corn were only half cultivated;
the livestock in the corrals looked poor and thin; while as for the
vineyards--! Father Zalvidea sighed deeply as he gazed at what were
the merest apology for vineyards, judging from his high standard, and
compared them mentally with those cared for so lovingly at Mission
San Gabriel. He saw, at a glance, just what was needed, and set about
bringing them up to a point somewhat approaching his ideal.

But before giving his attention to these mundane things, Father Zalvidea
had to do much for the spiritual side of the mission and its people;
for it was in a more deplorable state in this respect than in that of
material welfare. Fourteen years before, Mission San Juan Capistrano
had had the finest church in Nueva California, the pride of the whole
country. Father Zalvidea had been present at its dedication, the
occasion of great ceremony amidst a vast throng of neophytes, and all
the Spanish dignitaries that could be gathered together. But the mission
had enjoyed its beautiful church only a few years when it suffered a
most awful calamity. One Sunday morning, when the church was crowded
with Indians at mass, there was heard in the hush of prayer, a distant
noise, like the sound of a great rush of stormwind, which, a moment
later, reached the mission, and with the rocking of the earth and the
rending of walls, the tower of the new church fell on the people below,
shrieking as they fled. Forty were killed on the spot, as well as many
wounded. This catastrophe was by far the worst ever visited on the
missions, and it was long before San Juan Capistrano recovered from the
blow--never, in fact, so far as the church was concerned, for it was too
badly injured to be repaired, and the fathers could not summon up
energy enough to build another. Since that dire Sabbath, a room in the
adjoining building had been used as a church. Father Zalvidea's
greatest desire, next to seeing the