rmination, and Galvez quickly
realized that his own efforts were now to be ably seconded by a man who,
by reason of his devotion, courage, and personal magnetism, might well
seem to have been providentially designated for the task which had been
put into his hands.

Miguel Joseph Serra, now known only by his adopted name of Junipero,
which he took out of reverence for the chosen companion of St. Francis,
was a native of the Island of Majorca, where he was born, of humble
folk, in 1713. According to the testimony of his intimate friend and
biographer, Father Francesco Palou, his desires, even during boyhood,
were turned towards the religious life. Before he was seventeen he
entered the Franciscan Order, a regular member of which he became a year
or so later. His favorite reading during his novitiate, Palou tells us,
was in the Lives of the Saints, over which he would pore day after
day with passionate and ever-growing enthusiasm; and from these devout
studies sprang an intense ambition to "imitate the holy and venerable
men" who had given themselves up to the grand work of carrying the
Gospel among gentiles and savages. The missionary idea thus implanted
became the dominant purpose of his life, and neither the astonishing
success of his sermons, nor the applause with which his lectures were
received when he was made professor of theology, sufficed to dampen his
apostolic zeal. Whatever work was given him to do, he did with all
his heart, and with all his might, for such was the man's nature; but
everywhere and always he looked forward to the mission field as his
ultimate career. He was destined, however, to wait many years before his
chance came. At length, in 1749, after making many vain petitions to
be set apart for foreign service, he and Palou were offered places in
a body of priests who, at the urgent request of the College of San
Fernando, in Mexico, were then being sent out as recruits to various
parts of the New World. The hour had come; and in a spirit of gratitude
and joy too deep for words, Junipero Serra set his face towards the far
lands which were henceforth to be his home.

The voyage out was long and trying. In the first stage of it--from
Majorca to Malaga--the dangers and difficulties of seafaring were
varied, if not relieved by strange experiences, of which Palou has
left us a quaint and graphic account. Their vessel was a small English
coaster, in command of a stubborn cross-patch of a captain, who co