part in the graceful Spanish dances.

It was no small matter to rule one of these great households. La Patrona
(the mistress) was generally the first one up. "Before the sun had
risen," said a member of one of the old families, "while the linnets and
mocking birds were sounding their first notes, my mother would appear at
our bedside. 'Up, muchachos, up, muchachas, and kneel for your Alba!'
The Alba was a beautiful prayer of thanksgiving for care during the
night, with a plea for help through the dangers and temptations of the
day. No excuse for lying abed was accepted; up, and on the floor we
knelt, then she passed on to where the mayordomo, or foreman, and his
men were gathering in the courtyard. Here, too, was the cook with the
Indian maids, busy making tortillas for the morning meal. 'Your Albas,
my children,' my mother would say in her clear, firm voice. Down would
drop mayordomo, vaqueros, cook, and Indian girls, all devoutly reciting
the morning prayer.

"After their prayer the children might, if they chose, return to their
beds, but before sleep could again overtake them there would probably
come from a distant room the voice of their aged grandfather asking them
questions from the Spanish catechism.

"'Children, who made you?' he would call in a quavering voice.

"A chorus of small voices would sing-song in response, 'El Dios' [God].

"Again he would question, 'Children, who died for you?'

"Again the reply, 'El Dios.'