There is a bay, blue and bottomless, with shores studded with tall
beautiful timber. There is a prairie lawn, spread like a carpet in
patterns composed of pretty wild flowers. Upon it stand hundreds of
cottage-built tenements, covered with the creeping vine. In the centre,
the presidio, or government-house; on one side the graceful spire of a
church, on the other the massive walls of a convent. Above all, is a sky
of the deepest cobalt blue, richly contrasting with the dark green of
the tall pines, and the uncertain and indescribable tints on the horizon
of these western prairies.

Even the dogs are polite at Monterey, and the horses which are always
grazing about, run up to you and appear as if they would welcome you on
your arrival; but the fact is that every traveller carries a bag of salt
at his saddle-bow, and by their rubbing their noses against it, it is
clear that they come to beg a little salt, of which they are very fond.
Everybody and every animal is familiar with you, and, strange to say,
the English who reside there are contented, and still more strange, the
Americans are almost honest. What a beautiful climate it must be
at Monterey!

Their hospitality is unbounded. "The holy Virgin bless thee," said an
old man who watched our coming; "tarry here and honour my roof." Another
came up, shook us by the hand, his eye sparkling with kind feelings. A
third took our mules by the bridles and led us to his own door, when
half-a-dozen pretty girls, with flashing dark eyes and long taper
fingers, insisted on undoing our leggings and taking off our spurs.

Queen city of California! to me there is poetry in thy very name, and so
would it be to all who delight in honesty, bonhommie, simplicity and the
dolce far niente.