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San Francisco (California, United States) (search for this): chapter 4
ot like to sketch this mouldering wall and overhanging fruit? But while you make your sketch, the owner smokes and smirks, convinced that you admire his wall and fruit trees, not because they make a picture, but because they are his wall and fruit trees. A saintly and a regal city, says Don Mariano with a flush of pride; San Carlos is our patron saint, Don Carlos is our founder king. A regal name is Monterey; rey de los montes-king of the mountains. Dons and caballeros sneer at San Francisco as an upstart city, built by nobody, not even by a viceroy, and peopled by the scum of New York, Sydney, and Hong-Kong. At Monterey they have a line of governors, and a second line of bishops, with the ruins of a castle and a gaudy Mexican church, as visible evidence of their temporal and spiritual sway. At Monterey, too, a gentleman has rights; not only those of a Spanish knight, but those of an Indian chief. He may be sharp of tongue and light of love. Nobody thinks of counting the
Monterey (California, United States) (search for this): chapter 4
h gardens, rise the sheds and water-wheels of Monterey. We land — the town is won. Received by Dorsons not to be annoyed by snap and snarl. Monterey, a town all gables, walls, and balustrades — This lady's game of hide and peep, which in Monterey takes the place of work and thought, is highl an unknown city in the south of Spain? In Monterey, folks affect high pedigrees, and give themsee a Gael and satisfy a Basque. No house in Monterey is fifty years old. Fiftysix years ago, the c of stone, remained to mark the site of royal Monterey. Five years elapsed before a soul returned Carlos is our founder king. A regal name is Monterey; rey de los montes-king of the mountains. scum of New York, Sydney, and Hong-Kong. At Monterey they have a line of governors, and a second lnce of their temporal and spiritual sway. At Monterey, too, a gentleman has rights; not only those xican don is no longer safe in his retreat at Monterey. Strangers poke their noses through his gate[1 more...]<
Algerine (California, United States) (search for this): chapter 4
nd having placed this battery in charge of Don Jesus de Vallejo, waited the piratical attack. Next day, on Buchard laying one of his ships athwart the castle, Don Jesus opened fire and forced him to withdraw. Enraged by this repulse, Buchard lowered his boats, and sent his men ashore. Don Jesus left his guns, and bolted for the woods, firing a powder train, which blew the castle into dust. Buchard gave the town to pillage, and his crews, a riff-raff of all nations, Spanish, French, and Algerine, spared neither age nor sex. Fire swept the lanes and alleys, so that nothing but the church, an edifice of stone, remained to mark the site of royal Monterey. Five years elapsed before a soul returned. A Scot, named David Spence, a man dealing in skins and hides, came first. Then don and caballero ventured back, and raised their shanties from the dust. Poorer than ever, they built of sand and logs, but gave their sheds poetic names. A hut was called a house, a shed a hall. No house
Mexico (Mexico) (search for this): chapter 4
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: June 3, 1770. That cross is Fray Junipero's cross; that ancient oak beside it, is the tree under whican Francisco as an upstart city, built by nobody, not even by a viceroy, and peopled by the scum of New York, Sydney, and Hong-Kong. At Monterey they have a line of governors, and a second line of bishops, with the ruins of a castle and a gaudy Mexican church, as visible evidence of their temporal and spiritual sway. At Monterey, too, a gentleman has rights; not only those of a Spanish knight, but those of an Indian chief. He may be sharp of tongue and light of love. Nobody thinks of counti
Hong Kong (China) (search for this): chapter 4
s, convinced that you admire his wall and fruit trees, not because they make a picture, but because they are his wall and fruit trees. A saintly and a regal city, says Don Mariano with a flush of pride; San Carlos is our patron saint, Don Carlos is our founder king. A regal name is Monterey; rey de los montes-king of the mountains. Dons and caballeros sneer at San Francisco as an upstart city, built by nobody, not even by a viceroy, and peopled by the scum of New York, Sydney, and Hong-Kong. At Monterey they have a line of governors, and a second line of bishops, with the ruins of a castle and a gaudy Mexican church, as visible evidence of their temporal and spiritual sway. At Monterey, too, a gentleman has rights; not only those of a Spanish knight, but those of an Indian chief. He may be sharp of tongue and light of love. Nobody thinks of counting the number of his squaws, or asking him whether those dames are red or white. Living near savages, he has caught, as stron
Branciforte (California, United States) (search for this): chapter 4
Chapter 4: a lost Capital. Lapping round Pinos Point, nine or ten miles from the Old Quarries, the water races on a pale and sandy beach, of bow-like form, ending in two green and picturesque bluffs. One bluff is Santa Cruz, the other Monterey. The arc is twenty miles across; a sweep of sunny water, over which flocks of gulls and pelicans dart and flash. A slip of sand, dotted along the line with ribs and tusks of whales, so many that they look like drifts of snow, divides the dark blue for me! Leaning on the vessel's side, we watch a shoal of smelts at play. A pelican settles on our mast. The air is still; the silence broken only by the snapping of an unseen dog. A line of surf breaks white and 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 pi
David Spence (search for this): chapter 4
lse, Buchard lowered his boats, and sent his men ashore. Don Jesus left his guns, and bolted for the woods, firing a powder train, which blew the castle into dust. Buchard gave the town to pillage, and his crews, a riff-raff of all nations, Spanish, French, and Algerine, spared neither age nor sex. Fire swept the lanes and alleys, so that nothing but the church, an edifice of stone, remained to mark the site of royal Monterey. Five years elapsed before a soul returned. A Scot, named David Spence, a man dealing in skins and hides, came first. Then don and caballero ventured back, and raised their shanties from the dust. Poorer than ever, they built of sand and logs, but gave their sheds poetic names. A hut was called a house, a shed a hall. No house in Monterey is bigger than an English cottage, and the public rooms are often low and mean. Entering one of the pretentious villas, you find the gate unhinged, the balcony rotten, the garden heaped and messed. Nature does somethi
Jesus Vallejo (search for this): chapter 4
ss than don and caballero, with a pedigree long enough to amaze a Gael and satisfy a Basque. No house in Monterey is fifty years old. Fiftysix years ago, the city built by Don Jose tivera and the Spanish friars, was levelled to the earth. Captain Buchard, a French pirate or privateer, ran into the port with two small frigates, flying the flag of Spain. Governor Sola, acting for his royal master, masked a battery near the water's edge, and having placed this battery in charge of Don Jesus de Vallejo, waited the piratical attack. Next day, on Buchard laying one of his ships athwart the castle, Don Jesus opened fire and forced him to withdraw. Enraged by this repulse, Buchard lowered his boats, and sent his men ashore. Don Jesus left his guns, and bolted for the woods, firing a powder train, which blew the castle into dust. Buchard gave the town to pillage, and his crews, a riff-raff of all nations, Spanish, French, and Algerine, spared neither age nor sex. Fire swept the lanes
Don Carlos (search for this): chapter 4
ess sets you thinking of Seraglio Point, this cactus of the upper Nile, this prickly pear of Ramleh in the Sands. What artist would not like to sketch this mouldering wall and overhanging fruit? But while you make your sketch, the owner smokes and smirks, convinced that you admire his wall and fruit trees, not because they make a picture, but because they are his wall and fruit trees. A saintly and a regal city, says Don Mariano with a flush of pride; San Carlos is our patron saint, Don Carlos is our founder king. A regal name is Monterey; rey de los montes-king of the mountains. Dons and caballeros sneer at San Francisco as an upstart city, built by nobody, not even by a viceroy, and peopled by the scum of New York, Sydney, and Hong-Kong. At Monterey they have a line of governors, and a second line of bishops, with the ruins of a castle and a gaudy Mexican church, as visible evidence of their temporal and spiritual sway. At Monterey, too, a gentleman has rights; not only
French (search for this): chapter 4
ter's edge, and having placed this battery in charge of Don Jesus de Vallejo, waited the piratical attack. Next day, on Buchard laying one of his ships athwart the castle, Don Jesus opened fire and forced him to withdraw. Enraged by this repulse, Buchard lowered his boats, and sent his men ashore. Don Jesus left his guns, and bolted for the woods, firing a powder train, which blew the castle into dust. Buchard gave the town to pillage, and his crews, a riff-raff of all nations, Spanish, French, and Algerine, spared neither age nor sex. Fire swept the lanes and alleys, so that nothing but the church, an edifice of stone, remained to mark the site of royal Monterey. Five years elapsed before a soul returned. A Scot, named David Spence, a man dealing in skins and hides, came first. Then don and caballero ventured back, and raised their shanties from the dust. Poorer than ever, they built of sand and logs, but gave their sheds poetic names. A hut was called a house, a shed a ha
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