Suddenly from out the silence and gathering shades fell upon our ears
a chime so musical and sweet, so spiritually clear and delicate, that
had honest John Bunyan heard it he might well have deemed himself
arrived at the land of Beulah. * * * It was the hour of vespers at
the Old Mission.

BEN C. TRUMAN,
in _Semi-Tropical California._



JUNE 3.


The Mission San Gabriel and its quadrangle of buildings made a
beautiful picture. It nestled against distant hills, and neither stood
out from the dim background nor entirely melted within it. It
attracted the eye--this pink, yellow-gray of the little stone church
crowned with dull-reddish tile, and supported by a bulwark of quaint
buttresses. The picture was perfect--but since then the chill hands of
both temblor and tempest have touched rudely the charm and blighted
the pride of all of the California Missions--San Gabriel Archangel.

MRS. A.S.C. FORBES,
in _Mission Tales in the Days of the Dons._



JUNE 4.