THE LAST OF THE DONS BY THE BLUE PACIFIC.

CHAPTER I.

UNDER THE MEXICAN EAGLE.--EXIT THE FOREIGNER.--MONTEREY, 1840.





"Caramba! Adios, Seflores!" cried Captain Miguel Peralta, sitting
on his roan charger on the Monterey bluffs. A white-sailed bark
is heading southward for Acapulco. His vaqueros tossed up their
sombreros, shouting, "Vive Alvarado! Muerte los estrangeros!"

The Pacific binds the hills of California in a sapphire zone,
unflecked by a single sail in sight, save the retreating trader,
which is flitting around "Punta de los Pinos."

It is July, 1840. The Mexican ensign flutters in the plaza of
Monterey, the capital of Alta California.

Miguel Peralta dismounts and crosses himself, murmuring, "Sea por
Dios y la Santissima Virgen."

His duty is done. He has verified the departure of the Yankee ship.
It is crowded with a hundred aliens. They are now exiles.

Gathered in by General Vallejo, the "pernicious foreigners" have