unt the grandeur of his house, and the broad acres
attached to it, one may safely say, that in the New World Don Gregorio
has done well. And, in truth, so has he--thriven to fulness. But he
came not empty from the Old, having brought with him sufficient cash to
purchase a large tract of land, as also sufficient of horses and horned
cattle to stock it. No needy adventurer he, but a gentleman by birth;
one of Biscay's bluest blood--hidalgos since the days of the Cid.

In addition to his ready-money, he also brought with him a wife--
Biscayan as himself--and a daughter, at the time turned eight years old.
His wife has been long ago buried; a tombstone in the cemetery of the
old Dolores Mission commemorating her many virtues. Since, he has had
an accession to his contracted family circle; the added member being a
grand-daughter, only a year younger than his daughter, but equally well
grown--both having reached the ripest age of girlhood. It is scarce
necessary to add, that the young ladies, thus standing in the
relationship of aunt and niece, are the two with whom Edward Crozier and
Willie Cadwallader have respectively fallen in love.

And while mate and midshipman are on the way to pay them a promised
visit--for such it is--a word may be said about their personal
appearance. Though so closely allied, and nearly of an age, in other
respects the two differ so widely, that one unacquainted with the fact
would not suspect the slightest kinship between them.

The aunt, Dona Carmen, is of pure Biscayan blood, both by her father's
and mother's side. From this she derives her blonde complexion, with
that colour of hair so admired by Mr Crozier; with the blue-grey eyes,
known as "Irish"--the Basques and Celts being a kindred race. Her
Biscayan origin has endowed her with a fine figure of full development,
withal in perfect feminine proportions; while her mother has transmitted
to her what, in an eminent degree, she herself possessed--beauty of face
and nobleness of feature.

In the daughter neither has deteriorated, but perhaps improved. For the
benignant clime of California has such effect; the soft breezes of the
South Sea fanning as fair cheeks as were ever kissed by Tuscan, or
Levantine wind.

A chapter might be devoted to the charms of Dona Carmen Montijo, and
still not do them justice. Enough to say, that they are beyond cavil.
There are men in San Francisco who would dare death for her sake, if
sure of her smi