IX 



GARDENS OF THE SPANISH-CALIFORNIANS 



SHE was a pleasant-looking little old lady, her 

 withered cheeks aglow from exercise, as she 

 dug energetically in a sunny bed of gilly flowers one 

 spring morning, and I could not forbear stopping to 

 have a chat with her about them. In fact I had been 

 told at the hotel of the little half-Spanish village 

 that if I wanted to know anything about the old 

 time California flowers, Dona Margarita was the 

 one to tell me. 



At Dona Margarita's 



1 ' She was born when California was still a Mexi- 

 can province," mine host at the inn had said, "and 

 has lived here all her life. She is none of your 

 Sonorenas [Mexican peons from Sonora] but real 

 Spanish on both sides of the house. There are a 

 few such still in the State, not of the Castilian sangre 

 azul the newspaper writers are fond of attributing 

 to them, but more honest, I guess descended from 

 sturdy peasant stock who went for soldiers and 



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