In a Mission Patio. 



its yellow trumpet blooms by the 

 adobe wall, and the whke-crowned spar- 

 row travels with the same rapid, even 

 hop beneath it and sings the same 

 plaintive, high-pitched song. Little do 

 the birds know of the life drama which 

 has been enacted here — of the struggles 

 and aspirations of the Franciscans, of 

 their marvelous success, of the hosts of 

 Indian converts laboring here, and then 

 of the dissolution, decay, disintegration. 

 Nature remains calm and serene while 

 principalities grow and crumble. She 

 takes little account of centuries, but 

 sweeps onward through aeons, slowly 

 advancing with irresistible power. Yes- 

 terday a great mission establishment, 

 and to-day a nesting place for owls and 

 swallows ! But the life of yesterday 

 was in the darkness of vaulted cham- 

 bers, and the life of to-day is in the free 

 air and sunshine of heaven. 



