heard the ringing of the far-off Mission bell, proclaiming the hour of
midnight. Scarcely had the last stroke died away before the announcement
was taken up and repeated by a multitude of bells of all sizes, and
the air was filled with the sound of striking clocks and the pealing of
steeple chimes. The old man uttered a cry of alarm. The stranger sharply
demanded the cause. "The bells! did you not hear them?" gasped Padre
Vicentio. "Tush! tush!" answered the stranger, "thy fall hath set triple
bob-majors ringing in thine ears. Come on!"

The Padre was only too glad to accept the explanation conveyed in
this discourteous answer. But he was destined for another singular
experience. When they had reached the summit of the eminence now known
as Russian Hill, an exclamation again burst from the Padre. The stranger
turned to his companion with an impatient gesture; but the Padre heeded
him not. The view that burst upon his sight was such as might well have
engrossed the attention of a more enthusiastic temperament. The fog
had not yet reached the hill, and the long valleys and hillsides of the
embarcadero below were glittering with the light of a populous
city. "Look!" said the Padre, stretching his hand over the spreading
landscape. "Look, dost thou not see the stately squares and brilliantly
lighted avenues of a mighty metropolis. Dost thou not see, as it were,
another firmament below?"

"Avast heaving, reverend man, and quit this folly," said the strange;
dragging the bewildered Padre after him. "Behold rather the stars
knocked out of thy hollow noddle by the fall thou hast had. Prithee, get
over thy visions and rhapsodies, for the time is wearing apace."

The Padre humbly followed without another word. Descending the hill
toward the north, the stranger leading the way, in a few moments the