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I may never see the Delectable Mountains, but I know the delectable peninsula.

Yet one may tire of Nature and one may tire in time of art,-if so, here is Monterey-old, sleepy, historic, foreign Monterey the dream of the first Spanish navigators, the spot where the first mass was celebrated in California. Its old adobe presidio, hotels, casas, and public building, are pathetic reminders of its departed glory. Some of them were standing as they stand today more than a hundred years before the signing of the Declaration of Independence. They have been silent witnesses to that grand, tragic battle of the Cross and the downfall of the Franciscan power. They have sheltered Spanish grandees, American generals, and California's legislators. From one of them stands today the shaft on which floated the first American flag in California; in one of them was born the first white child

the Coast; and in another the first Indian baptism took place. They have seen the coming and the going of the whale oil industry, and they are now simply objects of curiosity to the summer tourist at Del Monte. The angelus rings now, as it did then, from the yellow twin towers of the Mission San Carlos, but it calls to worship only a little handful of

Portuguese fishermen and abalone gatherers, instead of the beauty and chivalry of old Spain.

As we rested on the rude board benches in the dim interior of Carmel and gazed up at the faded, time-wasted flowers and stained emblems on its neglected altar, the picture of that other civilization came back. It was a glorious picture, full of color, romance, and religion, but happily its passing did not rob it of its glory. That will live long after the Anglo-Saxon has given place to a more perfect

race.

Junipero Serra's monument, cut in stone, stands on the hill overlooking the bay and the city with which his name. will forever be linked, and just beyond, rising above the sea of oaks, is this wonderful "Hotel of the Forest" that brings yearly from all parts of the civilized world thousands to do him homage. It is a strange dispensation of Providence that the spot that the old Franciscan chose as the see of his religion on the Pacific should become the Mecca of the fashion and wealth of the West. The little Episcopalian chapel outside the grounds of Del Monte has usurped the place of the great Franciscan Mission at Carmel, but the worshipers in the one revere the name of the old priest as much as did the penitents in the other.

Rounsevelle Wildman.

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A VAGABOND'S CHRISTMAS IN TAHITI.

RECOLLECTIONS OF A BEACH COMBER.

ROM my earliest childhood the "Southsea's many an islet shore" has had a peculiar fascination to me. Tahiti - or Otaheity, as it was generally called in books was especially the island of my dreams. It was always described as one of the loveliest islands in the ocean, reposing in a sea blue as the vault above, and peopled with beings, said to be the mildest, bravest, and handsomest on earth,- a mundane paradise, in short. For years, however, it remained but a dream, even after I was grown up and had started to explore the world on my own behalf. I had always to go where fate willed, and somehow it always took me farther and farther away from where I wished to go. I began to think that my dreams would never come true, when fate at last brought me to San Francisco. Vessels.

were leaving that port every month for Tahiti, and I could without difficulty have secured a berth on one of them, but that was not what I desired. I wanted to go, free as a bird, with money in my pocket, so I could thenceforth rove at pleasure among those enchanted islands. So I went to work at once to make money by manual labor; this is now many years ago and labor was then well paid on the Coast. but it meant something akin to slavery. Toil, toil, night and day, rain or shine. But I had a purpose in view— the purpose of my life-and I never faltered, never lost courage; and by saving almost every cent, at the expiration of a year I had five hundred dollars.

What a glorious day that was when I secured my passage to Papeete, Tahiti, on the brigantine Timandra. My outfit for the voyage and my subsequent sojourn on the island was slender, and slenderer still was my purse after the passage money was paid, but what cared I about that? I was at last bound for the land, which I had in my mind pictured as Eden itself. Our passage to the island was uneventful enough; light winds and a smooth sea, from the moment we left the Golden Gate until the surf-fringed shores of Tahiti hove in sight, made it veritable summer sailing

over a summer sea.

It was a moonlight night, I recollect, when I first landed in Tahiti ;- they seem to be all moonlight nights that I remember from among those in Tahiti. We had anchored at dark inside the reef, close to the little islet called Motuti, and before many minutes I was on my way ashore. How beautiful it all seemed to me then the strange overpowering smell, the gayly dressed, laughing people, the low houses overshadowed with trees,-and the moon shedding its moist light over all. It was indeed a scene to be remembered, and that night I returned on board enchanted with everything.

Next day I experienced my first shock: I did, without much trouble, secure a small house, containing two rooms, all to myself, and at a reasonable rent, but before I took possession I was told that I had to procure a permission de residence from the French authorities. Under the

THE PERMISSION DE RESIDENCE."

impression that the island was governed by Queen Pomare, I had neglected to invest a dollar in a passport from the French consul in San Francisco, which, I believe, I should have done if I wished to stay on the island, and this remissness of mine nearly frustrated my nicely laid plans. Queen Pomare was a nonentity and the government was in the hands of the French, who exercised a strict supervision over all arrivals. all arrivals. However, after a great deal of parlezvousing, and by the aid of a goodly number of dollars, which considerably diminished my small hoard, I finally gained permission for one year's residence on any of the islands under French protectorate.

For a month I lived in Elysium. With the usual recklessness of youth 1 squandered my little capital on all the pleasures the island could give me,boating and riding excursions, expensive dances (to see the real hula-hula cost money, as it was prohibited), and many other extravagances suggested by the climate; and I always had company, both male and female, and I also invariably footed the bills. When the first

month was up I had ten dollars left, and my rent paid for another month.

I abandoned forthwith all expensive pleasures, confining myself at first to at bread and fruit diet,-and began to take long walks through the island. The boasted hospitality of the natives was probably a thing of the past, or else my personal appearance was not such as to induce them to kill the fatted pullet for me; I had to pay for almost everything I received. In disgust I returned to Papeete and had a big blow-out for my remaining two dollars. I had a watch and some good clothing, and I had a roof over my head; but before many days I parted company with my watch, and then the clothes went, piece after piece, until finally one fine day I found that I had nothing more to dispose of and was destitute, with the rent due,- a regular collapse.

With the money went my friends,-I had no more hula-hula and no more poi for them. for them. Those days I lived principally on bananas; anyone would give me a dozen, they were so cheap. At last I was turned out of the house, but I had fortunately made friends with an old, decrepit Vahina, who owned a dilapidated hut in the suburbs, where I could have a shake down night time. Her continued coughing and spitting disgusted me so much, however, that I preferred to spend the nights in the market or under the trees.

At this time an American brig, called the Fire-Fly, sailing under the Hawaiian flag, happened to be lying at a wharf. I made friends with the crew and had many a good meal on board of her, until the mate one day asked me if I was a regular boarder. I made out to answer that I missed a meal occasionally, when he suggested, that the more I missed the better. I took the hint and visited her only after dark, when I always was sure

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of getting something to eat. Now and Now and then one of my former friends asked me to come in to lunch with him, but those occasions were few and far between; they generally looked another way when they

saw me.

I began to be well-too well-known, and the French gendarmes, although polite enough, watched my movements suspiciously. One day, walking on the "broom" road, along the beach, I had the luck to aid a little boy, who had accidentally tumbled into the water. The water was not deep and there was no danger, but the boy was scared and was screaming lustily when I lifted him out. I thought no more of it, but the next day I was unexpectedly accosted by a portly gentleman, who greeted me with great effusion as the preserver of his child. In vain I protested that I had not done anything to merit his thanks; but I had to go with him to his house to be thanked by "mamma." I suppose I was too disreputable looking to sit with. them at the table, but food was brought out to me on the veranda, and I was really too hungry to be anyways particular and refuse it. It was not a luxuriant meal by any means, but as it was I took "the goods the gods provided," and very little remained when I was through.

After the lunch the fat gentleman brought cigars out to me, and with great condescension engaged me in conversation. He told me that he was the American consul, which I knew already; that he had been a colonel in the late war, and had been wounded, and that his forefathers had been of some consequence -in Germany, I think he said. He had done all the talking with much pomposity so far, and I listened drowsily, which he took for respect. When that subject was evidently exhausted he began to talk about Tahiti and his troubles here, and began to abuse the natives. Just for

deviltry and to take down his pomposity a bit, I retorted in defense of the natives, and before long we were in high dispute. I probably used some disrespectful language towards my noble host, and the consequence was that the choleric gentleman ordered me out of his house in high dudgeon, called me a "tam'd peachcomper" and other opprobrious names,―his gratitude had evaporated. By subsisting on cheap fruit, and a meal now and then on board of one of the trading schooners from San Francisco, I managed to get along pretty fairly, and as I had the "permission de residence" in my pocket, I could not be molested by the zealous guardians of the peace. 1 went out fishing a few times with the natives on the reef, but I somehow came to grief every time and got spilled out, and had a lot of the sharp spikes of the treacherous echinus thrust into my feet, making me dance with agony, so I gave up that amusement. My greatest pleasure was to borrow a canoe and paddle myself out back of Motuti, where I would be unobserved, and then stretch myself out in the bottom of the canoe and look over the side into the water, which was so clear that I could see the bottom at any depth. What a glorious spectacle that was! ever changing, ever new. Mountains and valleys, grottos and forests of corral; white, red, yellow, and green, blended together. Fishes, of all shapes and colors, chased each other in never-ceasing play; naiads pursued by Tritons in endless triumph! For hours. I lay like this, watching the vast, gorgeous transformation scene beneath me, until my inside warned me to desist, and paddle ashore to forage for bananas. Many insolent questions were often asked and insulting remarks made by some of the white residents living in Papeete, to which I generally replied with equal insolence, so I did not make any friends

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