said the man. "Somewhat prophetic of the American days to come, wasn't
it?"

We caught a glint of color in the street and leaned far over the balcony
to watch a violet-coated Chinese girl thread her way among the sombre
crowd.

"It must have been just below us that the early festivities were held,"
I suggested. "Leese's house was not large enough to accommodate his
guests, so a big marquee surmounted by Mexican and American flags, and
gaily decorated with bunting, was spread about where the street now
runs. Can't you picture it all? The dainty little senoritas in their
silk and satin gowns, with filmy mantillas thrown over their heads and
shoulders, and the men not less gorgeous in lace-trimmed velvet suits
and elaborate serapes. I can almost hear the applause and the booming of
the cannon that followed General Vallejo's glowing tribute to
Washington, and see the graceful Spanish dancers as they assembled for
the evening ball. It was doubtless at this time that Leese met General
Vallejo's fascinating sister, whom he married after a short and
business-like courtship."

"Short, and she a Californian?" He sent me an amused glance.

"Perhaps Leese thought delay dangerous," I suggested, "for Senorita
Maria Rosalia was one of the belles of the new military outpost at
Sonoma and more than one gaily clad caballero was suing for her hand."

"No wonder the American pushed the matter," laughed my companion. "Did
many Boston men marry Spanish Senoritas?"

"Nearly all who came to the Coast," I answered. "The California women
were among the most fascinating in the world and held a peculiar charm
for these sturdy New Englanders."

"I can understand that," he said, bending for a better look at my face.
"But what could the dainty senoritas see in these crude; raw-boned
Yankees?"

"Just what any woman would see," I declared. "Men of sterling character,
working against terrible odds, with that courage which does not know the
word failure. They saw men of perseverance, energy and brains who were
bringing into the country the indomitable spirit of New England."

"I am glad you have a good word for the early Yankees," he said, "and I
wish your enthusiasm extended to a later generation."

He turned toward me and I felt the telltale color sweep my cheeks as I
became conscious that I was thinking less of Leese and his compatriots
than of the Bostonian at my side.

"It wasn't the New England spirit," he declared, "that gave these e