and are driven in front, at the rate of ten or twelve miles an hour,
according to the speed that is required for the journey. At the end of
twenty miles, the horses which have been rode are discharged and turned
into the _caballada_, and horses which have not been rode, but driven
along without weight, are saddled and mounted and rode at the same
speed, and so on to the end of the journey. If a horse gives out from
inability to proceed at this gait, he is left on the road. The owner's
brand is on him, and, if of any value, he can be recovered without
difficulty. But in California no one thinks of stopping on the road, on
account of the loss of a horse, or his inability to travel at the rate
of ten or twelve miles an hour. Horseflesh is cheap, and the animal
must go as long as he can, and when he cannot travel longer he is left,
and another horse is substituted.

Twenty-five miles, at a rapid gait over a level and fertile plain,
brought us to the rancho of Don Francisco Sanchez, where we halted to
change horses. Breathing our animals a short time, we resumed our
journey, and reached the mission of San Francisco Dolores, three miles
from the town of San Francisco, just after sunset. Between the mission
and the town the road is very sandy, and we determined to remain here
for the night, _corraling_ the loose animals, and picketing those we
rode. It was some time, however, before we could find a house to lodge
in. The foreign occupants of the mission buildings, to whom we applied
for accommodations for the night, gave us no satisfaction. After
several applications, we were at last accommodated by an old and very
poor Californian Spaniard, who inhabited a small house in one of the
ruinous squares, formerly occupied by the operative Indians. All that he
had (and it was but little) was at our disposal. A more miserable
supper I never sat down to; but the spirit of genuine hospitality in
which it was given imparted to the poor viands a flavour that rendered