from beyond the clouds.
The Great Spirit, opening a new and nearer path into the land of souls, had given them San Carlos
, one of the princes sitting in his presence, as their guide and saint.
Who could repel such teachers?
The Franciscan fathers were smooth of speech and grave of life.
No lie escaped their lips.
No theft was traced to them.
They took no squaw by force, and drove no native from his hutch.
In all their actions they appeared to be the Indian
These strangers gave new names to things.
They called the river Rio Carmelo, and the range Monte Carmelo
That lovely squaw was named the Lady
, yet soft and curious, the natives watched those friars.
All secrets of the land and sea were known to them.
If roots were scarce, these fathers walked into a copse and dug up more.
If fish ran short, they threw nets into the bay and filled their creels.
They knew all qualities of bark and leaf, of herb and grass.
They called the stars by name, and understood the winds and tides.
By bit and bit they taught the Indian
how to till his soil, to net his stream, to snare his wood.
Instead of grubs and worms, the Indian