AFTER TEN YEARS 



every leaf of the mesquite bush hung heavy with drops 

 of rainbow-tinted dew. The meadow larks were nest- 

 ing in the grass, and from the higher branches lifted 

 up their voices in exquisite rejoicing. Not one or two 

 at intervals along the way, but a whole continuous 

 orchestra accompanied us, their songs blending and 

 rising and falling, and rising again! It was one of the 

 memorable days of our forty-six years of married life!" 



"Yes, but the metatas?" I venture, as he stops. 



"Well, they lay in perhaps four places, half a dozen 

 or so, in the tall grass, denoting so many villages that 

 had been deserted. For when the San Diego Mission 

 was established — you know, by Junipera Serra — in 

 1765, the converted Pueblos within a radius of fifty 

 or sixty miles left their villages and clustered around 

 the church for mutual protection. As these rocks were 

 too cumbersome to move, they were left beside the 

 wigwams." 



Here they had remained for nearly a hundred and 

 fifty years, to be discovered by this wandering tourist, 

 who was also a born collector. With avidity he seized 



27 



