musement or repose.

None of your dirty streets and sharp pavements; no manufactories with
their eternal smoke; no policemen looking like so many knaves of clubs;
no cabs or omnibuses splashing the mud to the right and to the left;
and, above all, none of your punctual men of business hurrying to their
appointments, blowing like steam-engines, elbowing every body, and
capsizing the apple-stalls. No; there is none of these at Monterey.

There is a bay, blue and bottomless, with shores studded with tall
beautiful timber. There is a prairie lawn, spread like a carpet in
patterns composed of pretty wild flowers. Upon it stand hundreds of
cottage-built tenements, covered with the creeping vine. In the centre,
the presidio, or government-house; on one side the graceful spire of a
church, on the other the massive walls of a convent. Above, all is a
sky of the deepest cobalt blue, richly contrasting with the dark green
of the tall pines, and the uncertain and indescribable tints on the
horizon of these western prairies.

Even the dogs are polite at Monterey, and the horses, which are always
grazing about, run up to you, and appear as if they would welcome you on
your arrival; but the fact is, that every traveller carries a bag of
salt at his saddle-bow, and by their rubbing their noses against it, it
is clear that they come to beg a little salt, of which they are very
fond. Every body and every animal is familiar with you, and, strange to
say, the English who reside there are contented, and still more strange,
the Americans are almost honest. What a beautiful climate it must be at
Monterey!

Their hospitality is unbounded. "The holy Virgin bless thee," said an
old man, who watched our coming; "tarry here and honour my roof."
Another came up, shook us by the hand, his eye sparkling with kind
feelings. A third took our mules by the bridles and led us to his own
door, when half-a-dozen pretty girls, with flashing dark eyes and long
taper fingers, insisted on undoing our leggings and taking off our
spurs.

Queen city of California! to me there is poetry in thy very name, and so
would it be to all who delight in honesty, bonhommie, simplicity, and
the dolce far niente.

Notwithstanding the many solicitations we received; Padre Marini went to
the convent, and I took up my quarters with the old governor.

All was new to me, and pleasant too, for I was not eighteen; and at such
a time one has strange dreams and fancies