presence of foreigners, and particularly Americans, with the utmost suspicion and distrust. Nobody could have been more unwelcome than Captain Smith and his men, who really did not seem to be able to give a good account of themselves, notwithstanding they were simply hunters and trappers, wholly innocent of any wrong intention whatever, and who were, as a matter of fact, merely wanderers who had lost their way. But Smith learned that there was considerable commotion occasioned within the walls of the Mission San Jose as the result of the unexpected appearance of his party. To allay the fears of the people of the Mission, Captain Smith addressed a letter to the good Father Narcisco Duran, in which he set forth with an appealing frankness and truthfulness his situation and the accident which brought about his presence at that point. "I am a long ways from home," said Captain Smith, in his touching message, "and am anxious to get there as soon as the nature of the case will admit. Our situation is quite unpleasant, being destitute of clothing and most of the necessaries of life at this time, wild meat being our principal subsistence. I am, Reverend Father, your strange but real friend and Christian brother." This letter no doubt resulted in placing Captain Smith right with the padres at the Mission and pleasant relations were established. Otherwise Smith would not have determined to leave a portion of his party behind him at the Mission San Jose while he with some others marched away with the object of reaching Salt Lake, picking up the rest of his expedition there, returning with them to the Mission San Jose, and then proceeding northward to the Columbia River where it was thought a field for their trapping and hunting operations awaited them. Arriving at Salt Lake and gathering together the eighteen men, two women and horses that were there, he again struck out for California with the object of joining forces with those of his party whom he had left behind at Mission San Jose. His trip across the mountains had evidently convinced him of the impracticability of recrossing them with his entire party, so he took the same route he had traveled before and at length again found himself on the Colorado where he had been exactly a year previous. Here ten of his men and the two women were massacred by Indians and all his horses killed or captured. Escaping the slaughter with eight of his men, Captain Smith set out on foot for San Bernardino. Arriving at that place he left two men there who had fallen sick and went down to San Diego with the others and secured passage in an American ship for San Francisco, immediately putting out from that port for San Jose, where he had left his party. Although he threw himself upon the hospitality of the people of San Jose, the inhabitants were obsessed with the belief that the stranger was a hostile invader, heading a force of men whose object was to seize California. They threw the poor wanderer into jail. A second time he wrote to Governor Echeandia and he was ordered to Monterey where the Governor then was. Smith's reasons for a second appearance in California were demanded and he gave them, but they were unavailing and he was ordered back to prison. Heartsick and suffering as he was, the captains of the ships at Monterey interceded for him as the other captains had done at San Diego, whereupon Governor Echeandia ordered him forthwith out of the country, refusing to allow his hunters to accompany him. Again did Captain Jedediah Smith turn his face to the wilderness, striking across the moun tains and, it is supposed, reaching the plains beyond. He was never heard of again. Probably the Indians killed him, or he may have died from thirst and hunger. Other Americans began now to filter through the mountain passes into California by the overland route, always to the distress of mind of the Californians. They were thoroughly unwelcome. Nor were they the only visitors who came unbidden. Every now and then there was a strange sail on the sea manned by a captain and crews whom the Californians did not like and whose motives were darkly suspected. As the story of Captain Jedediah Smith serves to illustrate the exasperation of the Californians against the appearance of invaders by land, so does the visit of Captain Pedro Angulo serve to illustrate the harassment that occurred from the sea. There were plenty of pirates preying on the shores of California as there were marauding bandits inland, but it appears that Angulo with his ship, the Aquila, was a detachment of a fighting fleet which had been whipped to a frazzle on the coast of Peru. Two other ships of the same fleet had arrived at Monterey and surrendered to the Governor. This was in the time of Arguello. Captain Pedro Angulo had lagged behind and while the other ships were in Monterey he was sailing the Aquila into the roadstead of Santa Barbara. Wherever he got it, Angulo was in possession of a magnificent uniform, and it was in it that he placed himself, all bedecked with gold lace and ribbons and fine plumes for his hat. He caused himself to be put ashore and demanded from the awestricken but admiring proletariat of Santa Barbara to be led to the house of the Comandante. Now the Comandante of Santa Barbara at that time was the renowned Jose Antonio de la Guerra y Noriega, and, as it happened, there was a wedding at full swing within the walls of his casa at the fateful hour Pedro Angulo, arrayed as was no admiral before, thundered for admittance at the oaken door of the Comandante. Within, all was music and light and feasting. A daughter of the house had just been solemnly wed by a padre of the old Mission to William E. P. Hartnell, the English trader who had lately become a citizen of California. The music suddenly stopped and the great dark eyes of the señoritas opened wider, the gallant caballeros stood rooted to the floor and it may be that the padres piously crossed themselves. There could be no question that Captain Pedro Angulo had created great astonishment in his glittering uniform. As soon as the assemblage could recover, the visitor was invited to enjoy the traditional hospitality of an illustrious house. Captain Pedro growled in reply that he wanted no hospitality and that he couldn't speak anything but French anyway. At this, the bridegroom addressed this gorgeously arrayed seafaring creature in the tongue of his preference. It was then discovered that he preferred not to speak even in the language of his choice. It is said that he turned contemptuously on his heel, strode from the house and returned to his ship. Ordering all sails spread, he stood out to sea, but just before he left the harbor the cannon from his deck spat out a flame of fire and the ball from its iron throat went crashing through the Presidio of Santa Barbara. And that was the last that was heard of Pedro Angulo save for the rumor that he had sailed back for South America and had surrendered himself at Valparaiso. While on the subject of weddings, the records of the old Mexican days teemed with great memories of What was wonderful celebrations of this character. perhaps the most celebrated wedding that ever occurred in California took place in the time and the reign of Echeandia. It was a double wedding, binding in wedlock Augustin Zamorano, the Governor's secretary, to Luisa, the daughter of Santiago Arguello, and of Romualdo Pacheco to Romona, daughter of Joaquin Parrillo. This famous double wedding took place at San Diego, the young men and their brides being alike eminent for their aristocratic birth, wealth and good looks. Upon conclusion of the marriage ceremony and a great feast at San Diego at which the entire population turned out, a bridal tour to Monterey was begun. The Governor and his entourage, accompanied by a military escort, traveled with the wedding party, word of the movements of which was carried ahead by courier from rancho to rancho and from Mission to Mission across the hills and through the valleys and along all the stretches of the shores of the sunset ocean. The beauty and the high social standing of the brides with their distinguished, handsome husbands, coupled with the great honors paid to them by the Governor's court, aroused all the spirit of romance that was so rife in California in those pleasure-loving days. At every point along the sun-swept leagues of the King's Highway where any sort of establishment existed, a bridal feast and all manner of carnival for the happy travelers was in waiting. There had been many another wedding in California before this and there has been many another since, but never one to equal the wedding of Zamorano and Pacheco to the dark-eyed, lovely daughters of Santiago Arguello and Joaquin Parrillo. But there was a sad sequel to this wedding, at least so far as Romualdo Pacheco was concerned. Some |