Marcos de Niza, sent out from Culiacan in 1539, and walking "as the Holy Ghost did lead him" through Sonora and Arizona, called the country through which he went San Francisco.

A tradition succeeded this, that the great River of Saint Francis was an arm or tributary of the Rio Colorado.

The actual route of Captain Anza from Sonora to San Francisco may have arisen from that of 1539,- within which they found, "A bay almost round, about ten leagues in width, where the great river of our Father Saint Francis empties." Palou in 1774 or 1775.

The creek called even to this day Las Llagas de San Francisco, is the dividing line between the Archdiocese of San Francisco and the Diocese of Monterey.

With a sense of relief we assist, in the year 1776,- a year memorable for other events in the records of the world,- at the formal baptism of the Presidio, Mission, and Puerto,- which enthrones forever the great Padre Serafico, and prevents his assignment to any position destined to comparative obscurity upon the King's Highway. There is still before Saint Francis possible absorption into the Yerba Buena nomenclature; there is the brief suggestion that Saint Francis of Solano may rival or eclipse him of Assisi; but we realize pleasantly that both these dangers are passed forever and that every visitor who looks out from the Presidio upon the Bay, is fairly entitled to the emotions awakened by it in Padre Junipero Serra, Apostle of Upper California, provided he knows what those emotions

were.

"And for our Founder, St. Francis, there is no Mission?"-Padre Junipero.

"If St. Francis desires a Mission, let him show us his harbor and he shall have one." --Then Señor Don José de Galvez.

To me, no amount of quoting can ever make this commonplace.

The return of the Franciscans to California, as one of the historic facts of the end of the century, is in a Spanish measure the return of the twenty-one great patrones and patronas to whom the cordon of Missions was once dedicated and whose real presence was ceremonially invoked. Barbara has never left us. Louis, King of France, once more moves among us in cord and cowl. It could do us no possible harm even to go out from our portals, to welcome the whole "goodly companie" of twenty-one. The Gray Friars, from San Diego to San Rafael and San Francisco Solano, knew but one hospitality, accorded alike to citizen and estrangero, North Americans, "a few Moors," or the couriers of the King. More. The Seraphic Order accords a certain friendliness and recognition to visions, distasteful as one imagines them to be to Father Joseph O'Keef, and I hereby make auricular confession to the following as a favorite one of mine.

In the charming opera libretto of "A King for a Day," there is an aria for the tenor, famous under the French name of " Si j'étais roi." This aria is quite capable of transposition into "Si j étais reine," and under the privilege of such transposition, improvising for myself a throne, I can evolve the processional order of the Cordon of Saint Francis, and watch it move with incense and banners, costume, music, and cross, from the South steadily upward into the North.

This processional order is the following:

I.

1767.

2. San Luis, Rey de Francia; member

of the Third Order of Penitence, who died, according to tradition, in the cord. and cowl of Saint Francis, in which he was brought back to Saint Denis from the Holy Land.

3. San Juan Capistrano; the militant priest, who may have inspired Hidalgo and who fought under John Corvinus at Belgrade, holding the Latin cross in the dying eyes of the infidel Turks.

4. Gabriel, Arcángel; speaking the seventy languages of Babel and uttering the same truth in every one, dictator of the Koran to Mohammed himself, he who found no condonation for Eve but expulsion at the point of a sword, which only matched his flaming eyes as he disdainfully drew it across the Lost Terrestrial Paradise.

San Fernando, Rey de España; separated from his royal brother of France. by a two days' journey, as the friars walked each day closing still in such local vespers as may yet be sung in the heart of the dividing Pyrenees.

6. Buenaventura of Tuscany; the resplendent Cardinal and historian of the life of Saint Francis himself, his cardinal's hat, as an attribute, hung on a tree.

7. Barbara of Phrygia; holding her mission and tower steadily through its inception and foundation, and as steadily through secularization and the American occupation itself.

8. Ines, Virgen y Martir; presenting the traditions of her strange neophyte students of divinity and the ritual of the Apostolic College, which represented the literature of the Propaganda Fide.

9. La Purisima Concepcion; defended by Padre Blas Ordaz and Corporal Tiburcio Tapia in a way which Church and State make into a kind of patriotism which only a republican can properly thrill over.

IO. San Luis, Obispo; His Grace of Toulouse; the boy-bishop, alternately

associated with the youth of Saint Antony, and walking in local contradistinction from San Luis, the King.

II. Saint Antony of Padua; young and glorious as Apollo or Antinous, but prizing neither youth nor its attributes except as he could bend them into slavery to his will.

12. San Miguel, Arcangel; "who is as God," and with drawn sword flames yet from every window of the Cathedral of Strasburg.

13. Soledad; upon whose altar fell dead of starvation that Padre Sarria whose sermon to his last Spanish congregation upon the curse of American gold still ranks among Spanish Californians as an utterance inspired.

14. San Carlos Borromeo de Monterey; side by side in the cardinal's red with San Buenaventura, but entitled to the ruff of the Medici, to whom he belonged.

15. San Juan Bautista; of the Holy Family grouped near San José, but strangely separated from our Lady of Angels, enthroned forever in the South.

Santa Cruz; processional crossbearer, meeting us in the Archdiocese of Saint Francis himself.

17. San José de Guadalupe; Patron of the expedition into California by sea and by land, and Patron as well of the Señor Don José de Galvez, whose name will always rank with that of Padre Junipero himself.

18. Santa Clara; the "Gray Sister, sedate and sweet," whose first California. follower was Concepcion, associated with all the Arguellos buried in the Campo Santo of Dolores.

19. Saint Francis of Assisi; Padre Serafico and Founder of one of the three great Mendicant Orders.

20. San Rafael Arcangel; the "affable. archangel" of John Milton; he who outwitted Asmodeus in the heart of Media.

21. San Francisco de Solano; "the

his Reverence, the Franciscan, gray or brown, instead of the secular black; for his Grace, the Bishop, purple; for His Eminence, cardinal red; for his absent Holiness, the papal white.

"And for our Father, Saint Francis?" Recognition, - supremacy. For his revealed port, its accorded rank as capitana of the ports of the Pacific Sea; for his city, recognition as the cabeza, or head, of the twenty-one Establishments still marked upon the land. For himself? The knotted cord and the Apotheosis. Auguste Wey.

N the side of the mountains back of San Bernardino, California, is a clearly defined image of an Indian arrowhead, covering several acres, and pointing downward into the valley. Just below the point of this arrow are located some hot springs, known as the Arrowhead Springs. This place has become a favorite resort both for the residents of valley who seek the cool mountain side in the summer, and the Eastern tourist who is ever on the lookout for the strange and beautiful in nature.

The origin of this peculiar mark has been the basis of speculation on the part of scientific men and others. It has been burnt off several times but the vegetation which grew up again was the same color as the old, several shades lighter than the rest of the mountain, and the Arrowhead reappeared unchanged.

Among two classes of the old settlers, however, there seems to be no doubt as to the cause of this gigantic figure, albeit their stories are very different. I will give the more ancient legend first.

Before the Spanish forces had made the conquest of the Pacific Coast, this peaceful valley was inhabited by a race of Indians who were very devout in their worship of the Great Spirit. One day the Evil One, straying away from his own domain, stumbled over the mountain and through the gap which is still known as Devil's Cañon. He was so pleased with the valley that he determined to possess it. It was not considered by the Indians at all improper for the Great Spirit to indulge in an innocent game of cards. The Evil One proposed that they play seven-up for the possession of the valley. valley. The game began. Hearts were trumps, out of compliment to the Great Spirit. The Evil One dealt. Each won two tricks and the Evil One had the lead. The Great Spirit was confident, for he had the ace of spades in his hand, but the Evil One held a little trump. The Great Spirit was so disappointed that he threw the ace of spades down on the side of the mountain, and there it remains today as a warning of the evils of seven-up. The Evil One at once sealed his claim to the valley by taking a bath in a spring near

where they had played the terrible game, and the waters of the spring have not yet cooled off.

The other legend not only accounts for the arrowhead, but also for the original settlement of the valley by the whites.

When the enthusiastic followers of Brigham Young wished to extend their territory, a party was sent out from Salt Lake towards the southwest, to find a suitable place for another oasis. They journeyed through the wilds of what is now Nevada, then into the mountains of Nothern Arizona, finally on to the scorching sands of the Mojave desert. Here, suffering for water and almost dead from the terrible heat, they gave up, and determined to return to their homes by the Great Salt Lake. The angel Moroni ap

peared that night in a vision and comforted them by telling them that their perseverance had won its reward; that their journey and hardships had ended and that on the morrow they might return to the land whence they came and guide their elders to this new Promised Land. They were to make the same journey again, only from their present camping place they were to march on until they came to a pass in the mountains, which the Indians called Cajon (box), leading down into a valley. They should follow the foot of the mountain until they came to a place where the Lord had placed an arrowhead on its side, there they should settle and build the new branch of Zion. Thus was founded the beautiful little city of San Bernardino.

Will C. Bailey.

HE doors and windows of the ranchhouse were thrown open, allowing the soft summer air to riot - through the rooms. Ordinarily, the house duties and chores in summer commenced at early sunrise, were finished by noon, and when the dinner was cleared and the men had gone back to their work, the house was quiet until the lengthening shadows proclaimed that supper time had come. But this day a volume of smoke rising from the back chimney long after dinner denoted something unusual. The kitchen porch, generally given up to the cats, dogs, and chickens, had been newly scrubbed and brushed, and its only occupant was a cat, whose curiosity had triumphed over her awe at the extraordinary change in the daily routine, and who stood near the door, purring wistfully to the worker in the kitchen.

From the kitchen could be heard a man's voice, and a minute later its owner appeared in the doorway, where he stood looking down with some amusement at the cat, who in confident recognition of a friend, rubbed her head softly against his coarse leather boots.

No one for a moment could mistake Jim Clifton for an American. A straight, A straight,

broad-shouldered, blue-eyed, and bonnyhaired Briton, he belonged to a type familiar enough to Californians, who are able to recognize at a glance the Englishman that has come to their country, with great expectation and an overweeng pride and affection for his own land, which makes it impossible for him to be drawn into entanglements, political or domestic,

'See Frontispiece.

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and which will eventually draw him back, when he will rehabilitate himself in civilized garb and manners.

Clifton watched the cat for a few minutes and then walked to the edge of the porch, and shading his eyes from the too fierce light, he carefully scanned the neighboring fields. There was no one in sight. He made of his two hands a trumpet and called: "Joe, where are you? Joe!”

"Here!" a voice answered, and Jim Clifton started leisurely towards the barn. Stopping at the door, he leaned against the casement, and taking his pipe from his pocket, filled it with slow care, giving the act the appearance and importance of a solemn ceremony. He smoked in silence a moment, watching critically the half-hearted movements of his brother, who was harnessing a little gray mare into a dilapidated spring wagon.

"Why did n't you make Blake hitch up?" he queried finally. "Where is he?"

66

The other shrugged his shoulders. 'At it again," he answered.

"You've got to go for her?" The man nodded moodily.

"Why do you go? It is none of your business."

"Who will if I don't?" retorted his brother. brother. "You, perhaps? Some one has got to; the Lord only knows where old man Blake is. Besides, Mrs. Blake has asked me to: she does n't want to send one of the ranch hands after Mandy, and I can't hurt the old lady's feelings."

"You're a f-f-fool, Joe," he retorted, betraying, in his haste to eject the words,

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