in especial, for enjoying the delights of
the wine made at Mission San Gabriel, and which was in demand by all the
missions. This was a weakness seldom indulged in, for the Father cared
not for imbibing this delectable liquid unless assisted by pleasant
company; and occasions when this could be had were rare. Let not the
reader infer from this that our respected fraile was guilty of drinking
more than was good or seemly for him. There had been a whisper one time,
going the rounds of the missions, that he had been uproariously drunk
on some occasion in the past; one slanderous tongue said the priest had
been reprimanded by President Sanchez, but we do not believe a word of
this. And who would grudge him all the pleasure he might get from the
good San Gabriel wine? Think of the poor padre, expatriated for the rest
of his days, and in a land that wanted much to make life seem worth the
living! Our hearts go out to the Father, as to all the other good men
who had done likewise, in deepest sympathy.

It is not our intention to enumerate all the peculiarities of
Father Uria. But there was one, before which all the rest sank into
insignificance, and that was his excessive fondness for cats. The love
of cats is more particularly a feminine trait; and this, together with
his strength of mind, marked though it was usually by his geniality,
makes it the more surprising in Father Uria's case. Yet such was the
fact, and as such was it recognized by all with whom he came in contact;
for in this instance it was "love me love my"--cats! This hobby of the
friar was one he had had from childhood; but gaining man's estate,
he had kept it in subjection (fearing it was not in accord with the
strictest propriety, especially after taking orders) until he came to
California. Here he had found a life of such loneliness, that, as a
refuge from almost unbearable ennui, he had gone back to his youthful
feline love with more than youthful ardor. When he came to take charge
of the Mission, San Buenaventura, three years before, he had brought
with him, carefully watched over, four immense cats, which had long been
his pets. These he still had, and in their companionship he found his
greatest solace for a life of solitude.

Father Uria continued his walking to and fro, gazing off to the east
along the road which the expedition from Mexico must traverse on its way
to Monterey. Behind him, almost at his heels, trotted one of his pets,
seeming to be per