is in such a ruined state, one of the
thick walls having fallen in, that it is as well not to see it.

Our next valley, even lovelier than the others, is Lockwood's Valley, a
beautiful stretch of grain fields. By a bend in the road we are driving
east with the western sun setting behind us. High hills form a
background for the green fields of oats and barley. The whole valley
with its few ranch houses and its great fields breathes a country peace.
Looking back, I still regret that we could not have had time to go half
a mile off the main road and try the merits of the Lockwood Inn.

But we drive on through the valley over a slight pass and come to an
adobe ranch house on the left, sitting modestly back on a slight knoll
against a background of bare hills. At the ranch gate is a sign to the
effect that this is Aloha Ranch Inn, and that meals can be had at all
hours. It is the word Aloha that catches us. Surely someone must live
here who knows the lovely Hawaiian Islands with their curving cocoanut
palms, and their emerald shores. So we turn into the drive and find a
kindly farmer, master of his six hundred acres in this lone valley, who
with his wife gives us warm welcome. He does indeed know Hawaii, having
lived and worked on the famous Ewa sugar plantation for nearly twenty
years. We have a homely but appetizing supper, and a dreamless night's
sleep in one of the farmhouse bedrooms. The next morning is gloriously
beautiful, and we drive on our way. In order to avoid fording the
Salinas river, which is very high, we make our journey by way of Indian
Valley, through hilly, rather lonely country. All along the river there
are signs of the devastation made by the unusual spring rains. The river
banks are gouged out and the railroad bridges are down, the rails being
twisted into fantastic shapes. In passing San Miguel we stop to see the
Mission, which is in a fair state of repair and in constant use. One of
the beautiful toned old bells of the Mission is hung in a framework
outside the church, where the visitor may sound it. The new bell is
unfortunately suspended from the top of an immense iron, derrick-like
structure which stands outside the church, and is unsightly. The
interior of the church is very fine. It is a lofty structure, fifty feet
high and one hundred and fifty feet long, its walls covered with
frescoes in rich blues and reds, the work of the Indians. There are
niches for holy water in the thick old walls and