mountain ranges stood within the boundaries of his estate. With an exception here and there, these tracts have passed into the stranger's hands.

Springing from an ancient root, claiming an ancestry all knights and nobles, Mariano took to arms as soon as he could ride a horse and wield a sword. Joining a troop of rangers, he was soon a man of note. Like all his neighbours who have lived near Indian wigwams, he was light of love, and hardly cared whether his divinity was dark or fair; but he was made for better things than dawdling after squaws and señoritas. Fond of work, he spent the time in study which his brethren spent in gaming-booths and tavern dens. He grew to be a famous rider and a still more famous shot. At twenty he has won his captain's grade, from which time he has his part in every row, and got a grade by every change. One year he helped the radicals to harass Spain; next year he helped the Jesuits to upset those radicals. When the bishop of Monterey denounced the new republic, Mariano, Catholic first, Mexican afterwards, followed his pastor into civil war. Captured by the enemy, who put him into handcuffs, he was so indignant that he

shaved his beard, renounced his title of a Spanish don, and swore that in future he would shave his face like an English marquis.

Acting with Alvaredo in founding a new government, he found the hour of his success the most critical of his life. What should he do with California? She could not stand alone. Four countries had some claim to her-Spain, England, Russia, the United States. Spain had been her nominal owner for a hundred years. England had the right of Drake's discovery, when the coast was called New Albion, and annexed to the domain of Queen Elizabeth. Russia had long possessed some points on the coast, notably the hills commanding the Golden Gate. America had the claims of neighbourhood, and a cession from the government of Mexico. What part was he to play? His bishops were in favour of submitting to the Spanish crown, Spain being their country and the bulwark of their Church. The other powers are all heretical. A Catholic seemed to have no choice; but Don Mariano, though a Catholic before he is a Mexican, is a Vallejo even before he is a Catholic. An active man, he kept his eyes open while his pastors were

asleep. Learning a little English, he read the journals of London and New York with a forecasting eye. Spain had no ships at sea. An English fleet was off the coast, an American army on the land. To one or other of these powers he saw that his young republic must incline. To which? Don Mariano, shaving like an English marquis, turned his friendly face towards London, though he took good care not to offend his neighbours of New York. A secret memoir, laid before President Polk, describes him as a man of high family, of good education (for a Mexican), who seems to be retiring from his military charge, though keeping a squad of soldiers at his country-house. In cld days proud and stiff, he is now smooth and sweet, yet with the lordly air of a man stooping from a height. His gates are always open to the stranger, but he keeps an eye on every guest, and only yields his heart to men of character and rank. His power is felt in every part of California, and Solano county, where he chiefly lives, is safer both for property and life than any other part of the Pacific slope. He asks for nothing. Money will not tempt him. No one knows his mind; perhaps he would like a title

or an office.' Such, in substance, is the picture of Don Mariano, presented thirty years ago, to

President Polk.

Unable to make him a marquis, Polk made him a general; then, in spite of his priests and bishops, Don Mariano staked his fortunes on the Stars and Stripes.

In punishment for his sin, he has been badly used by the United States. Wishing to see the capital of California built on his estate, he founded a new city on San Pablo Bay, which he called Vallejo, and offered not only to give the State his finest sites, but to defray the cost of building a court-house and laying out a public square. These offers were accepted by the State; yet after he had spent three hundred thousand dollars on public works in Vallejo, the capital was removed to Sacramento, and Don Mariano was left a ruined man.

Since then he has been swimming up a stream, in which the floods are high and swift. 'No Mexican of note,' he says to me in one of our drives, 'has been able to keep his lands. My case is hard, but not so hard as that of others; twenty years hence no Spanish don will be a citizen of the United States.'

'You mean the Spaniards will retire?'

'They will remove to Mexico, where they may hope to keep their own.'

Don Mariano's lands have slipped from him by many avenues of escape. His daughter chose an English mate; his sister chose an English mate. Much of his land is fenced and planted for the benefit of children with such English names as Frisby and Leese, who in the coming years will smile in their solid prosperity at the empty show and pretentious poverty of their Mexican ancestors.

You will attend our ball to-night?' asks Don Mariano.

'Ball! What ball?'

'Our cascarone ball.'

'What is a cascarone ball ? '

'Ah, yes; you are non-Catholic, and have another legend in your Church. A cascarone ball is an eggshell ball -cascaron, eggshell, you see. It is a festival of our people, kept by all good Catholics and Mexicans.'

Don Mariano shows me a printed notice of this festival; a grand affair, to be given in a noble hall, with a fine orchestra, and a splendid supper. We accept his invitation to the egg-shell dance.