Old Mission Stories of California by Charles Franklin Carter
page 25 of 141 (17%)
page 25 of 141 (17%)
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and faltering steps. Several times during the two days I had seen him,
sitting in the sun on the rough porch of a house close by, or ambling slowly about, and had been struck with his appearance. Although bent with his years, he was tall, and, in his younger days, must have had a graceful, as well as powerful, figure, traces of it remaining still, in spite of his decrepitude. But his face was the most noticeable thing about him. Notwithstanding the dimness of age, there was a wonderful amount of intelligence and animation in his expression, and the deep, black eyes could hardly have been brighter and more piercing at the age of forty than they now appeared. His long straight hair was still thick, but very grey. He wore the ordinary dress of the poor man. He was, in fine, a specimen of what the missions could do with the Indians when working on the best material to be found among them. "Buenos dias, SeÂor," he said gravely, as he came near. "Buenos dias." "Will the SeÂor be disturbed if I stay here awhile and watch him work?" he continued in Spanish, which he spoke rather slowly, but with as much ease and correctness as a Mexican. I answered I should be glad to have him remain so long as he pleased, and, in return, after he had seated himself beside me on an old ruined adobe wall, asked if he had lived long here. "For over sixty years, SeÂor." "And where did you spend your early years, for I think you have seen many more than sixty?" I asked. |
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