Legends and Tales | Page 4

the plain. The
watercourses brawled in their familiar channels, nor dreamed of ever
shifting their regular tide. The wonders of the Yosemite and Calaveras
were as yet unrecorded. The Holy Fathers noted little of the landscape
beyond the barbaric prodigality with which the quick soil repaid the
sowing. A new conversion, the advent of a Saint's day, or the baptism
of an Indian baby, was at once the chronicle and marvel of their day.
At this blissful epoch there lived at the Mission of San Pablo Father
Jose Antonio Haro, a worthy brother of the Society of Jesus. He was of
tall and cadaverous aspect. A somewhat romantic history had given a
poetic interest to his lugubrious visage. While a youth, pursuing his
studies at famous Salamanca, he had become enamored of the charms
of Dona Carmen de Torrencevara, as that lady passed to her matutinal
devotions. Untoward circumstances, hastened, perhaps, by a wealthier
suitor, brought this amour to a disastrous issue; and Father Jose entered
a monastery, taking upon himself the vows of celibacy. It was here that
his natural fervor and poetic enthusiasm conceived expression as a
missionary. A longing to convert the uncivilized heathen succeeded his
frivolous earthly passion, and a desire to explore and develop unknown
fastnesses continually possessed him. In his flashing eye and sombre
exterior was detected a singular commingling of the discreet Las Casas
and the impetuous Balboa.
Fired by this pious zeal, Father Jose went forward in the van of
Christian pioneers. On reaching Mexico, he obtained authority to
establish the Mission of San Pablo. Like the good Junipero,
accompanied only by an acolyte and muleteer, he unsaddled his mules
in a dusky canyon, and rang his bell in the wilderness. The savages--a
peaceful, inoffensive, and inferior race--presently flocked around him.
The nearest military post was far away, which contributed much to the
security of these pious pilgrims, who found their open trustfulness and
amiability better fitted to repress hostility than the presence of an
armed, suspicious, and brawling soldiery. So the good Father Jose said
matins and prime, mass and vespers, in the heart of Sin and Heathenism,
taking no heed to himself, but looking only to the welfare of the Holy
Church. Conversions soon followed, and, on the 7th of July, 1760, the

first Indian baby was baptized,--an event which, as Father Jose piously
records, "exceeds the richnesse of gold or precious jewels or the
chancing upon the Ophir of Solomon." I quote this incident as best
suited to show the ingenious blending of poetry and piety which
distinguished Father Jose's record.
The Mission of San Pablo progressed and prospered until the pious
founder thereof, like the infidel Alexander, might have wept that there
were no more heathen worlds to conquer. But his ardent and
enthusiastic spirit could not long brook an idleness that seemed
begotten of sin; and one pleasant August morning, in the year of grace
1770, Father Jose issued from the outer court of the Mission building,
equipped to explore the field for new missionary labors.
Nothing could exceed the quiet gravity and unpretentiousness of the
little cavalcade. First rode a stout muleteer, leading a pack-mule laden
with the provisions of the party, together with a few cheap crucifixes
and hawks' bells. After him came the devout Padre Jose, bearing his
breviary and cross, with a black serapa thrown around his shoulders;
while on either side trotted a dusky convert, anxious to show a proper
sense of their regeneration by acting as guides into the wilds of their
heathen brethren. Their new condition was agreeably shown by the
absence of the usual mud- plaster, which in their unconverted state they
assumed to keep away vermin and cold. The morning was bright and
propitious. Before their departure, mass had been said in the chapel,
and the protection of St. Ignatius invoked against all contingent evils,
but especially against bears, which, like the fiery dragons of old,
seemed to cherish unconquerable hostility to the Holy Church.
As they wound through the canyon, charming birds disported upon
boughs and sprays, and sober quails piped from the alders; the willowy
water-courses gave a musical utterance, and the long grass whispered
on the hillside. On entering the deeper defiles, above them towered
dark green masses of pine, and occasionally the madrono shook its
bright scarlet berries. As they toiled up many a steep ascent, Father
Jose sometimes picked up fragments of scoria, which spake to his
imagination of direful volcanoes and impending earthquakes. To the

less scientific mind of the muleteer Ignacio they had even a more
terrifying significance; and he once or twice snuffed the air
suspiciously, and declared that it smelt of sulphur. So the first day of
their journey wore away, and at night they encamped without having
met a single