vineyards brought up to their proper
condition, was to build a new church, and these were the only mitigating
circumstances in his regretted change of residence; but he had been only
a few days at his new home, when he gave up his purpose with regard to
the church; it was beyond his power, as he saw. San Juan Capistrano had
been too long on the decline, and the neophytes were too indifferent, to
undertake this work.

So our Father Zalvidea confined himself to the simple religious duties
of his position, and left such grand projects as building a new church
to the future. He had enough, and more than enough, to occupy all
his time, and he soon ceased to sigh for his old home at San Gabriel,
indeed, almost to think of it. It was only at rare intervals that he
found time, after the day's work was done, to take a little pasear in
the mission garden in front of the monastery. But this garden was a poor
makeshift; the plants were of the commonest kinds, and were choked with
weeds. Still, the Father found comfort in it, and with his oversight it
was soon a fairly respectable garden. So the months flew by.

It was more than a year after Father Zalvidea's advent at Mission San
Juan Capistrano, when he bethought himself one day of the little
wooden box he had brought with him. On arriving, he had deposited it
temporarily at the bottom of a large chest which stood in his room,
and which was used for storing away papers and records of the mission.
Hidden as the box was, under piles of papers, the Father felt tolerably
safe regarding his treasure, and immured as he had been ever since, in
the busy affairs needing his whole time and attention, he had almost
forgotten it. But on this day he had made up his mind to hide it more
effectually. Late that night, after the entire mission was still in
sleep, he took out the box, placed it on the table, and by the light of
a candle, opened it with a small key which he wore, hung by a slender
black silk cord, round his neck underneath his Franciscan robe. Inside
were five gleaming rows of gold coins-bright new Spanish onzas, every
one looking as if just fresh from the mint. There were one hundred and
twenty-five coins, each worth about sixteen dollars of American money,
making the contents of the box amount to two thousand dollars--a goodly
sum, indeed, for a poor Spanish priest in Nueva California to possess.
Lying on top of the rows of coins was a slip of paper, on which was
written in Spani