The San Francisco call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1895-1913, 1898-09-25

strive, in spite OF the terrible
drought, to keep life in them
selves. Their shriveled-up leaves drop
from the branches, but they are still
green and contrast pleasantly with the
parched ground, where not blade Of
grass nor even a weed can grow.
There is no life on the ranch; the cat
tie have long since left for the high
ranges of the Santa Lucia Mountains,
where there is still some feed.
But the day is the 10th of Septem-
Der. Though the date has no special
associations to citizens of the United
States, it's occurrence is sufficient to
draw a long string of buggies and
horsemen along the dusty trail. They
come from Jolon, from all the ranches
and farms in the neighborhood even
from far-away Kings City. For this
is the eighty eighth anniversary of the
declaration of Mexican independence,
and 1t has been left alone TO Jolon, of
all towns in the United States, to keep
green the memory of this great ma
tional event of Mexico.
BY far the most interesting charac-
teristic of the day is this visit to the
ruined San Antonio Mission. 1t has
ali the features of a sacred rite.
Last year we had many more peo-
pie here" said Father Ferrer, the par
ish priest, as he spread out the palms
Of his hands with a gesture of dismay.
This year, alas. the drought has
ruined their crops, they have no horses
and they cannot come"
Despite the fathers words, there was
a goOdly assemblage of people around
the ruined mission. There were ladies
in gay prints and summer frocks, store
keepers and ranchers in sOmber attire,
Indian women and children clad in
every color of the rainbow. Within
the chapel floor had been cleared of
debris, and the fallen roof timbers,
improvised seats. Despite the bright
ness of the day, the cloudless sky Of
deepest blue overhead, the sunlight
which streamed through the broken
spaces in the roof, there was patriotic
element about this forlorn service in a
ruined church, There, seated on
benches al one side, were the gaudily
clad Indians, the direct descendants of
those whom the mission fathers had
rescued from savagery and trained
with infinite patience to a life Of civil
lied decencY. On the other side were
the better dressed whites, men. ard
women of European descent, who had
succeeded, by sheer force OF arms, to
the domain which once belonged to the
SQualid, poverty-stricken Indians. And
in between. a kind of stepping stone
in the march of empire, were those of
Mexican descent, whose forefathers
had displaced the Indians, only in turn
TO be displaced themselves by the more
energetic Americans.
Yet to-day, being the 18th OF Septem-
ben the people, though of strongly dis
similar type, united in the worship in
order to celebrate an event, which, in
this land at least, has long since lost
all national significance. Though the
ostensible reason for the service was
the glorifcation of Mexican independ-
ence, there was another and more
touching side. 1t was a direct testi-
mony to the reverence in which the
memory of the mission fathers is still
held it was an appeal to the gener-
GUS to do something toward restoring
and keeping in fair preservation the
marvellous handiwork of these pioneer
indeed, an enthusiast in the cause,
this was the one and only feature Of
the celebration. He plaintively ap-
pealed TO his audience for help in the
work of restoration, and reminded his
hearers that all that had hitherto been
accomplished had been done by his
own hands. He told how he had
cleared up debris until at last, the floor
of at least a portion of the sacred
structure had been rescued for use.
He had even living proof of the mis-
sion fathers work to show. Framed
in the doorless archWay we looked out
upon the barren land which once was
the fair domain of the mission. Crops
and orchards and vineyards fiourished
here covering the well irrigated
ground with a carpet of verdure right
away to where the fringe of willows
which border the San Antonio Creek,
refresh the eye with living green. And
beyond, even to the Coast Range,
where the topmost peaks melt into
blue haze beneath the dazzling sun, the
fathers held sway. cutting their tim
Der and pasturing their cattle on these
mountain heights.
AS we sit on the rude benches gazing
out upon the memories of the past,