The Birmingham age-herald. [volume] (Birmingham, Ala.) 1902-1950, 1906-07-22

: SAN GABRIEL MISSION
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BY ELfZARE TIL CONVERSE.


and we choose two pictures which makes
plain to us the Japanese poet when he
writes to his mighty mountain ''Oh, white
faced wonder"
Again into the sunshine and the ques-
ton has become a suggestion,
Shall 1t be San Gabriel and the Mis-
sion?"
But that is far away" l demure and
we are taking what Henry James when
here, called THE obvious trips" We are
waiting until we measure our playtime
by days to go to Mt Lowe and its
Alpine tavern; to go to Santa Catalina is
land, where the flying tuna fly and the
glass bottomed boats ply and the beach
is made Of moonstones and the wild goats
Chamber over the rocky cliff and you
know the rest in the bools= you have
Nead' and to Coronado, world famous for
Its beauty-these trips we intend to give
time to-
Upon being assured that the Mission is
but few moments away am induced
to board a San Gabriel and Alhambra car
and in very few moments we are in the
Old World
There against the softest and bluest of
blue skies are the sunbaked yellow lines
of the Mission, peaceful, unfretted lines
with five square-cut inches with easy
arches above There three bells still
oNiiAE OlHtI Two nlcHtS snow only
blue sky beyond. At one end the old.
outside stairway of stone leads in the
branches of great, spreading pepper tree.
The choir loft is not In the pepper tree,
but back of the door which you cannot
see because the sweeping branches cover
1t so completely. AT the other end, the
priests house-long and low and veran-
dahed it's entire rambling length--its win
dows tiny PANIED, only snatches could be
seen of Its whitewashed face, as great
bushes of red and yellow bloom swathed
1t and climbed high and bloomed vocifer-
ously over the blackened shingles of the
low roof
According to Norris we are "only Is
cents worth away from our door" yet
here is the breath of ancient days and
romantic incident when the Spanish
padres propogated the religion of the
church of Rome among the Indians of the
southwest.
1t Is another world, another age, an
other cline. another people, another
tongue. The world, highly colored one;
such clear, bright blues and gold, such
tone of flaming scarlet and yellow flowers;
the picture postals l could send you would
strike you as exaggerated and over
colored, but not so, only the original
possesses a charm Of golden haze, made
of golden particles of dust and golden
sparkles of sunshine and then there is
the perspective of mountains of pastel
shades, all family, hazlly, yet glowingly
blue and pink and white. The white is
snow.
The age, an ancient one, picturesque
one, a colorful one The age when the
Franciscan fathers built the Mission and
the Indians hammered copper into thin
sheets and made the basin that holds
the holy water in the whitewashed dome
shaped and cellar-smellng baptostry-the
aO Or II h4Q
ago? / can't remember figures, when
those two tlme-staned and musty books
living open there were made by the monks
the age, according to the pictures
twelve Of them-of the apostles lining
the walls, the sixteenth ventury and the
place, Spain.
The climate-balm. The sunshine beat
ing down upon us as we wandered in
knee-deep grasses and weeds in the old,
old unkept graveyard as glowing as our
August sun but without It's enervating
heat and this. April, and we in summer
day garb
The race. a swarthy one-commingled of
Spain and Mexico and the sunbaked In
dams of the sun-warmed, palm-faced,
Pacif1c-lulled southwest
The language spoken-music. known as
Spanish.
Past the old stone stairway, each step
hallowed by the steps of time and man In
to lovely oval bath tubs for the birds;
around the corner under the pepper tree
into an avenue of tall eucalyptus trees
and into the old cemetery. The inscrip-
lions mostly Spanish, but a few French
and some queerly spelled in English. tell
ing plainly by their arrangement or the
letters whether sunny Spain or sunny
France was the motherland. The ages
marked were all below the half century
mark, and | wondered If rattlesnakes or
f,+ xx,ffb the 1oORpVi-
tx of life in those early days, until Norris
found an inscription telling that Juan
Somebody (please translate into SPANISH
has lived 100 years and Is lays.
The village of San Gabriel IS composed
of one street. Cross streets start but die
in the interval of the first one or two
blocks. The whltewashed homes with
bright blue painted window and door cas-
ings stand with interior unscreened from
the passers in the street-sidewalks there
are none A certain style of architecture
appealed forcibly to me. 1t was booth
or square with two sides screened from
sky with palm leaves, the thatch or
pepper boughs and the other two sides
"blooded to the open and the sky There
to sit all day and at night there to lie
on a shelf or hammock | would insist
in a Navajo or Oaxaca blanket.
I sat for hours, perhaps days, under a
pepper tree To all appearances time
stands still, though the sun throws more
decisive shadows marking his journey
than elsewhere. The Southern Pacific
trains screamed past. the smoke some
times yelled the white expanse of snow on
the farthest mountains. but even that did
not bring the ancient atmosphere down to
date as far a I was concerned. | glanced
up to see the big red car Seeing Los
Angeles and the Orange Groves standing
there, and Norris said, did you Just dis
cover tit has been standing there for
thirty minutes" Then I knew that very
rotund gentleman In very metropolitan
blue and buttons. with "Guide" beauti-
fully embroidered In gold on his cap.
had paused near us-that several tourists
In velvet gowns according to their cal
endars 1t was April and therefore must
be cooD had sauntered near us. People
do not walk here, they only saunter
Why couldn't they wear tropical white
and fower-laden hats and not spoil the
picture?
For hours the little Mexican sat on the
doorstep under the pepper tree. / thought
children were always doing things and
getting into mischief, not so the young
Mexican At long intervals he would go
to a nearby bench to inspect quietly his
arrangement of Irvine, which no doubt
was something wonderful, and at any
rate quite beyond our comprehension we
of the world dulled senses. Then, again.
he would lounge on the step. ris face in
utter repose held the light and essence
of a smile. The modern face only lights
up when addressed; we garment our faces
with a smile as with armor; In repose
our faces hold no memory nor promise of
smile Just earnest concentration; a
smile with most of us is hidden revel of