harbor.

"It has been a good day," thought Rezanov, low-
ering his glass. "It is like her to arrange so charm-
ing a finale."

When he arrived at the Presidio the guitars were
tinkling and the sala was full of eager and somber
faces. The Californians had come early, deter-
mined to witness the arrival of the Russians. Very
pretty most of the girls were, and by no means a
bevy of brunettes. There was hair of every shade
of brown, looped over the ears, drawn high and
confined by the high comb and the long pins; and
Rafaella Sal, with her red hair and gray eyes, was
still celebrated as a beauty, although no longer in
her first youth--she was twenty-two, and should
have been a matron and mother long since! But
she looked very handsome and coquettish in her
daring yellow frock that no other red head would
have dared to wear, and she displayed three ropes
of Baja California pearls; one strand being the com-
mon possession. The matrons, young and old, wore
heavy satins or brocades, either red or yellow, but
the maids were in flowered silks, sometimes with
coquettish little jacket, generally with long pointed
bodice and full flowing skirt. Concha's frock was
made in this fashion, but quite different otherwise;
an aunt in the City of Mexico being mindful at
whiles of the cravings of relatives in exile. It was