MS IN THE OLD WEST 



have been the sleek superior of a rich capuchin 

 convent, instead of vegetating, a leather-clad 

 frayle, in the wilds of California Alta. 



Nevertheless, his lot is no bad one. With 

 plenty of the best and fattest meat to eat, whether 

 of beef or venison, of bear or mountain mutton; 

 with good wine and brandy of home make, and 

 plenty of it ; fruit of all climes in great abundance ; 

 wheaten or com bread to suit his palate ; a tract- 

 able flock of natives to guide, and assisted in the 

 task by three brother shepherds ; far from the 

 strife of politics or party — secure from hostile 

 attack (not quite, by the by), and eating, drink- 

 ing, and sleeping away his time, one would think 

 that Fray Augustin Ignacio Sabanal-Morales-y 

 Fuentes had little to trouble him, and had no cause 

 to regret even the vega of Castilian Ebro, held 

 by his family since the days of el Campeador. 



One evening Fray Augustin sat upon an adobe 

 bench, under the fig-tree shadowing the porch of 

 the Mission. He was dressed in a goat-skin jer- 

 kin, softly and beautifully dressed, and descend- 

 ing to his hips, under which his only covering — 

 tell it not in Gath ! — was a long linen shirt, reach- 

 ing to his knees, and lately procured from Puebla 

 de los Angeles, as a sacerdotal garment. Boots, 

 stockings, or unmentionables he had none. A 

 cigarito, of tobacco rolled in com shuck, was oc- 

 casionally placed between his lips ; whereupon 

 huge clouds of smoke rushed in columns from his 



