 |
| June 3, 1770. |
This text is part of:
Table of Contents:
[30]
fresh along the rocks of Santa Cruz, but on this stretch of amber sands the waters lap and lie, gently as the fancies float about the eyelids of a sleeping child.
Like waiting in a Syrian road, is waiting at a Mexican port.
Who cares for time?
Beyond the rickety old Mexican pier, a tiny creek winds in between two grassy banks, with uplands clothed in oak and cypress.
In the hollow you can see a wooden cross:
That cross is Fray Junipero's cross; that ancient oak beside it, is the tree under which Don Jose Rivera massed his troops.
Right of the gully, on a bare hill-top, stand the ruins of Rivera's castle; left of it, under a fringe of pines, and in the midst of fig-trees and peach gardens, rise the sheds and water-wheels of Monterey.
1875.
Tufts University provided support for entering this text.
This work is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License.
An XML version of this text is available for download, with the additional restriction that you offer Perseus any modifications you make. Perseus provides credit for all accepted changes, storing new additions in a versioning system.