mystery of the mass rehearses the awful sacrifice of Him who died
for us all, a silence broods over the worshippers. The notes of
the choristers' voices slowly die away. The population leaves the
church in gay disorder.

The Bells of the Past throw their spells over the mossy church--at
once triumph, tomb, and monument of Padre Junipero. Scattered
over the coast of California, the padres now sleep in the Lethe of
death. Fathers Kino, Salvatierra, Ugarte, and sainted Serra left
their beautiful works of mercy from San Diego to Sonoma. With
their companions, neither unknown tribes, lonely coasts, dangers
by land and sea, the burning deserts of the Colorado, nor Indian
menaces, prevented the linking together of these outposts of
peaceful Christianity. The chain of missions across New Mexico and
Texas and the Mexican religious houses stretches through bloody
Arizona. A golden circlet!

Happy California! The cross here preceded the sword. No blood stains
the Easter lilies of the sacrifice. The Dons and Donnas greet each
other in stately fashion, as the gathering disperses. Governor
Alvarado gives a feast to the notables. The old families are
all represented at the board. Picos, Peraltas, Sanchez, Pachecos,
Guerreros, Estudillos, Vallejos, Alvarados, De la Guerras, Castros,
Micheltorrenas, the descendants of "Conquistadores," drink to
Mexico. High rises the jovial chatter. Good aguadiente and mission
wine warm the hearts of the fiery Californian orators. A proud day
for Monterey, the capital of a future Empire of Gold. The stranger
is cast out. Gay caballeros are wending to the bear-baiting, the
bull-fights, the "baile," and the rural feasts. Splendid riders
prance along, artfully forcing their wild steeds into bounds and