Mistress of Monterey
© Virginia Stivers Bartlett
VIRGINIA STIVERS BARTLETT
WNU Service
SYNOPSIS
In Spanish-governed California of 1783
a conflict between Church and State is
represented by two friendly enemies,
frail old Fray Junipero Serra. Francis
can missionary, and Don Pedro Fages,
civil governor. After telling Serra he is
■ending to Mexico for his wife and son
whom he has not seen for eight years.
Don Pedro refuses his aid toward the
founding of the Santa Barbara mission,
Serra’s cherished dream, and the two
part In bitterness.
CHAPTER I—Continued
—2—
"Heretical words! How dare you
speak so? Is it not to the glory of
God that these pagans have been
taught decency, cleanliness? That
they have been taught the word of
God? And that they have learned it
is the lot of man to labor and toil
honestly to produce a living from
the soil in the sweat of their brows?
Can you refute that?”
Fages managed a twisted smile,
“ ‘Consider the lilies of the
field,’ ” he quoted, “ ‘they toil not.'
Can you refute that?”
"I shall not try to. You but mock
such inspired words.”
“No, you will not try to, because
you know you can not. You know
that before these poor savages
came into the Church they were at
least healthy. Look at them now!
Diseased!”
“And who is responsible for that?
Can you tell me? Yes, but you will
not. It is the soldiers, your sol
diers, the King’s soldiers! They
have seduced the poor Indian wom
en, and given them the loath
some diseases of the Europeans.
They are dying of it, like flies.”
“No, that is what you have brought
them!” Fages rejoined
Serra staggered. "Before God,
explain those words! What I have
brought?”
“Yes, you. You and your mis
sionaries with your greed to save
souls for the further glory and pow
er of an already too - powerful
church!"
Serra was struggling for control,
and when he spoke his voice was
thick and trembling. *
“Rash man! Godless man! I won
der heaven does not open and the
fires of holy wrath descend and de
stroy you!” He raised his hands
with spread fingers, and advanced
toward the Governor.
“On your head be the blame! We
men of God ask no escort of sol
diery, it is forced upon us by the
rapacious State, eager for domin
ion, swollen with the spoils of stolen
empires! Leave us alone, you men
of war, the cross must go alone!”
Clutching the crucifix of his ros
ary he held it before him.
“Alone the cross will conquer! I
ask for no soldiers, I ask for priests,
Pedro Fages, men of God. strong in
the strength of righteousness, not
armed with steel! Men bearing the
word of God, with divine love in
their hearts, not the fires of lust that
burn and kill!”
He sank to his knees.
“Blessed Mother of God, Holy
Ghost Divine, Holy Master Jesus,
here on my knees before you, I, the
least of thy servants, Junipero Ser
ra, do make a vow! Send me two
strong brethren and with their help
alone will I raise to thee a temple,
the Mission Santa Barbara! Then
will I willingly give up my soul and
without one regret tread the dark
valley of the shadow of death.”
The boy Pio slipped fearfully into
the room.
“Padre mio,” he whispered awe
somely, “it is the hour for vespers.
Shall I ring the bell?”
The father raised His face, stained
with tears, drawn with agony.
He nodded, and the boy departed
silently. For a few moments the
two men regarded each other. Then
the Governor gathered up hat and
riding whip that lay on the table.
“Good night,” he said abruptly,
“May your prayers be answered.”
Tlje other looked at him implor
ingly.
“God soften your heart,” said he.
As Pedro Fages and his servant
rode away toward the Presidio of
Monterey, they heard the plaintive
notes of the vesper bells through
the Carmel Valley.
CHAPTER II
A thousand cries rose from the
street below and filtered through the
open velvet-hung windows of a room
in the upper floor of the palace of
the Viceroy of Mexico, one Mayor
ga. Venders were hawking their
wares: foodstuffs, parrots, baskets,
pottery, burros and young pigs The
Viceroy, for the fiftieth time that
bright morning, pulled aside one of
the velvet curtains and looked down
into the street, his nose twitching
with agitation as he did so.
“You are nervous, my friend,"
chuckled a soldierly-looking man
who stood beneath a great map of
California stretched across the wall.
A third man took a long cigar
from between his bearded lips, to
answer him.
"You, Felipe de Neve, are a sol
dier, a fighter, and should be afraid
of nothing—while our friend here,
Mayorga, is—if he will pardon me,
only Viceroy of Mexico. He should
be allowed a few qualms.”
Mayorga walked from the window
and joined de Neve beneath the
map.
"Si, you are a soldier, Felipe. One
of the conquistadores of this heathen
land here on the wall that is caus
ing me so much trouble.”
“A heathen land indeed,” an
swered de Neve. "And troublesome
indeed. There is only one person
who can help you. A woman.”
“Yes—a woman—and that is why
1 tremble.”
The third man, Romeu. joined
them and looked up at the map.
“There is one person who will
keep Don Pedro happy and content
ed in California,” the Viceroy con
tinued. "That is his wife, the beaute
ous Dona Eulalia Celis de Fages ”
He preened himself and smoothed
the creamy lace ruffles at his wrist.
“I for one do not blame him for
that. She would keeb any man hap
py, anywhere.” He walked again to
the window and peered out into the
street. Romeu and de Neve ex
changed glances.
“You are right, your Excellency,”
agreed Romeu. "I well remember
the day the couriers met us, down
“Yes!" Exclaimed the Two
at Once.
in that desert of the Colorado, with
dispatches that Don Pedro was to
be governor. He did not give thanks
that he would not have to chase
Indios all over New Spain—he did
not think of his rise of position—
from a humble Catalan soldado de
cuero to governorship—he did not
think of the glory of Spain or the
Church. Oh, no. He knelt in the
sand and said, ‘Now I can have my
Eulalia with me.' And he made me
promise I would persuade her to
join him. And here I am.”
"Yes, and you must persuade
her!” exclaimed Mayorga earnest
ly. "Fages is the only man for
California, and I fear if his wife
does not join him, he will not stay.”
“Fear it!” snorted de Neve. "I
know it. As for persuading her. you
are to open the subject, and we will
amen your suggestions.”
"How can I! How can any man
persuade a woman against her will!
Look at the desolate stretch of coun
try—the Californias, upper and low
er! Regard the distance from this,
the capital of Mexico, to that little
spot which is Monterey, the capital
of the Californias! The leagues of
sea and dpsert that separate them!
The sand, the cacti, the savages—”
Romeu looked reflectively at the
land he pointed out. “How will she
reach there, by ship?” he asked.
"She will have to walk.” said de
Neve calmly.
"Walk!” ejaculated the others.
Just then there was a clamor in
the street below. They went to
the window and saw a carriage ar
riving up the filthy muddy street.
The three men saw the footmen
leap to their feet, open the carriage
door and bow low. A woman dis
mounted, tall and bony-looking in
spite of her enswathipg clothing
Then another figure appeared,
draped in gauzy black, a coquettish
figure, they could see, for all the
swaddlings of black lace that con
cealed her face, hands and all,
against the sun’s rays. The two
hurried across the pave and dis
appeared in the palace. Th® three
men sighed.
“It is she,” said Romeu.
"The beauty of Barcelona, said
the Viceroy.
“The fiery Catalan, said de Neve
In a moment a lackey an
nounced, “La Senora Dona Eulalia
Celis de Fages, and the Dona An
gustias Moreno."
“I am most happy to see your
Excellency looking so well after the
ball last night," said the lady with
a twinkle in her black eyes. “And
to see you. Capitan Romeu, and you.
General de Neve.”
By this time she was seated in a
high-backed chair, upholstered in
crimson leather, and was swinging
a small satin-shod foot and silken
ankle nervously back and forth. "I
have had a mysterious letter from
Don Pedro, and he told me, Don
Felipe, that you would have news
for me. Then when his Excellency
invites me here this morning, I am
more mystified. You are looking
wonderfully well, Don Felipe, for
one who has spent such a long time
In that terrible country—that Cali
fornia.”
Romeu looked whimsically at the
Viceroy who was twitching at his
lace ruffles.
“Thank you, Dona Eulalia, it is
a miracle that 1 look well, for you
are right, it is a terrible country.”
Sighing lugubriously he looked at
the fidgeting Mayorga. “As for the
mysterious news, his Excellency
'.v*!l tell you of it.”
“Er—er—not at all—General—that
is your privilege—as Don Pedro’s
old and valued friend, I will give
you that privilege.” He began to
pace rapidly back and forth, look
ing furtively from the map of Cali
fornia to Dona Eulalia's cream
white face, shadowed in its black
lace.
De Neve rose. "Your Excellency,
1 defer to your higher position.
Yours is the honor—the privilege.”
Mayorga ran a finger around his
tight collar, and grew a little red
above its gilt and purple. “1—er
Captain Romeu gave a dry chuckle.
“Dona Eulalia, the honor which
has befallen Don Pedro is so great,
and will so affect your future, that
1 think I will ask permission of the
General and his Excellency to break
it to you myself.”
“Yes!” exclaimed the two at
once.
"Very well. Come, Dona, and
give me your hand.” In bewilder
ment she entrusted her fingers to
the gentle urging of the Capitan,
who drew her over to the map.
“This,” he said, “is a map of
California — of both Californias,
Baja and Alta. Here, in Baja Cali
fornia we see little Loreto—the Jes
uit missionaries founded this—but
your ears and throat tell me you
know also it produces the finest
pearls in the world. Verdad?”
She smiled. This was language
she understood.
“Very well. We will leave Baja
California and go on to Alta Cali
fornia—just a jump—thus—and we
find the Mission San Diego de Al
cala—the first to be built in Alta
California — already the soil has
been blessed with a martyr’s blood
—then we find San Juan Capistrano,
in a beautiful, beautiful spot—and
so on up we find San Gabriel Arc
angel. Ah, that is the busy place—
everyone going into or out of Cali
fornia slops there—it is quite a lit
tle metropolis.” *
Dona Eulalia was becoming in
terested in spite of herself. “Your
finger passed over something here,"
she exclaimed, "near San Gabriel—
what is that?”
Romeu peered closely. "That?
Oh. that is just one of the two pueb
los—de Neve’s pets. That is the
Pueblo de Nuestra Senora la Reins
de Los Angeles de Porciuncula Los
Angeles,* they call it. A filthy, tiny
place—scarcely noticed beside the
mission settlement of San Gabriel."
De Neve interrupted.
"Romeu, you falsify That place
will be, some day, the greatest—"
"De Neve, do you wish to com
plete the lady’s geography lesson?”
De Neve subsided
"Come, come, Capitan,” ex
claimed Dona Eulalia. "What is the
meaning of all this? 1 tremble with
anticipation—or apprehension.”
“Ah, yes. Pardon my digressions.
But here is San Buenaventura, on
the blue Pacific, San Luis Obispo,
San Antonio de Padua, San Carlos
Borromeo, Santa Clara and San
Francisco de Asis. And here Is
another pueblo, San Jose. All these
lovely places—and loveliest of all,
the Capital of California, the Pre
sidio of Moplerey. It is not a ter
rible country, Dona, it is a lovely
country—one of the loveliest of the
world, where living may be a Joy,
a pleasure, such as could never
be known otherwhere.”
In the background de Neve snort
ed. The Viceroy came up and stood
beside the two gazing at the map.
"And over all that country, one
man has been chosen as governor
one man out of all who have served
there—one man. whom all the Indi
os, frailes and soldiers will honor.
And the wife of that man will be
received like a little queen of the
land—will be a queen, in her own
right. All the missions and pueb
los and presidios will do her hom
age—it will be her queendom.”
The large gloomy room was very
still, except for the heavy breath
ing of the Viceroy, and the street
noises that filtered in through the
windows.
Eulalia put ner hand on her
breast. ‘You mean that Pedro—
that 1—that we—”
Romeu nodded.
Eulalia screamed. Angustias
rushed to her side.
"I won’tl I never will go there!
That barbarous place! No! This
Mexico City is bad enough after
Barcelona —but California—Monte
rey! No! Angustias. take me homel
I don't believe Pedro is governor—
you are lying to me—deceiving me
—you old—old—fools!"
‘‘Senora, you do not realize what
you are doing.” interjected de Neve.
"I assure you California is a mar
velous land—a land that in time will
be looked upon with envy by all the
nations of earth—and which will at
tract millions from all over the
world—a land of commerce and ac
complishment. It is your fate, your
destiny to go there.”
"Ai, what do I car® for its com
merce—its accomplishment!”
Romeu spoke thoughtfully
"Certainly—but it would be nice
in future days to know that genera
tions yet unborn will say when they
con the history of that country you
so despised, ‘Lovely Dona Eulalia de
Fages! The tlrsi First Lady of all
the Californias!’ For you will be,
you know. No other lady of quality
has set foot in the land. Wives of
petty officers, soldier’s women, yes
—but none like yourself.” He con
cluded with a sweeping bow.
"Now that is more interesting,
Capitan Romeu. The first First La
dy. That would be very amusing.
I am sorry I can not do it."
"That is just what you will be.
Senora. As for Don Pedro—what
his life will be, who can say? Of
course he is a devoted husband—a
man of honor—but who can say
where his loneliness will lead him
during those years apart from your
fascinating self?"
At this Eulalia rose definitely to
her feet. “You are tricking me!
You have Just told me there were
no women in California—”
“I did not say that, Senora—I
said there were no ladies. Women,
ah, yes—young Indian girls—quite
attractive, and er—quite careless as
to clothing—and in whom, alas,
the holy fathers have not as yet
been able to plant the seeds of de
cency."
“How dare you, General de Nevel
You, Pedro’s old friend, to speak of
him this way! Slandering himl”
“Pardon, Senora. I do no such
thing. I was simply pointing out
the characteristics of the present
population of California.”
Eulalia’s heart pounded, and she
laid her hand on her bosom. Turn
ing away from the window she
leaned back, a black butterfly
against the red velvet hanging.
(TO HE CONTINUED!
Waste Gases in Oil Plants Are Used
to Profitable End, Scientists Reveal
One oil company is manufactur
ing sulphuric acid from its waste
by-products, and is turning out
eighty-five tons of acid every day,
says Popular Mechanics Magazine.
Other major oil companies are pro
ducing alcohol from their waste
gases. It is estimated that the in
dustry is producing 4,000,000 gallons
of methyl, ethyl, and other alcohols
every year, cheaper, and in some
cases practically the same as the
alcohol produced from grain. A ra
diator anti-freeze called ethylene
glycol is still another derivative. In
some oil fields iodine is manufac
tured from the salt water flowing
up with the oil from the ground.
This growth is taking place oe
cause petroleum chemists are find
ing dozens of answers to the ques
tion of what to do with waste refine
ry gases Ordinary crude petroleum
consists of large numbers of mole
cules of different complexity, each
type being a different combination
of hydrogen and carbon atoms or
arrangements of them. The lightest
ones are gas molecules, heavier
ones are just right for motor fuel,
and still heavier molecules are used
#
for lubricating oil. Straight-run gas
oline is produced by heating petro
leum until the gasoline molecules
evaporate. Then they are collected
in a condenser. It amounts to a
sort of screening process.
Potentially there is still a lot of
gasoline left in the petroleum after
the first run fuel Is distilled off. The
next step is to crack the oil, cook
ing it under heat and pressure to
break some of the heavy fractions
down into molecular sizes that fall
into the gasoline classification. In
doing this, large quantities of gas
are created and in the past these
gases were simply piped away a
safe distance and burned. These
waste gases consist of mixtures of
so-called saturated paraffin gases
such as methane, ethane and pro
pane, as well as a number of other
gases.
Great "Sky Island"
Roraima is a great "sky island,"
with cliffs 3,000 feet high on all
sides, at the place where Vene
zuela, Brazil and British Guiana
meet. In only one place does a ledge
give access from the jungles below
Dolls Of
\festeryear
by '
Frances Grinstead
r|TWENTY-FIVE years ago a lit
|| tie girl's letter to Santa Claus
went something like this:
Dear Santa:
Please bring me a new head
for my dolly. Her name Is
Christina. She still has a nice
body, but her head has so many
dents it won’t last another year.
I would like one this time with
real hair made into curls and
eyes that open and shut.
Your trusting friend,
What has become of those Christ
mas dolls whose bodies could out
last half a dozen heads? When the
| curls went straight, or the wig
Mother Took the Little Girl to See
the Dolls.
dropped off, or little brother Johnnie
picked the wax oil the eyelids, and
sister was consoled by promising
her a new head. Mother took her
to a department store where there
was as large a display of doll heads
as of dolls. There were china heads,
metal heads, and heads of papier
mache. There were heads with wigs
and some without. There were those
with parted lips and dainty teeth
showing, while others hid their
smiles behind firm mouths and star
ing eyes.
One thing these varied heads had
in common. Their necks widened
into four-square bibs front and back
with holes at the corners for apply
ing the needle to the old body. The
bodies in those days were of cloth,
their inner substance sawdust.
Where now are those torsos that
could withstand endless repairing,
fresh sawdust, and new heads?
They probably found their way to
the attic in time and sister was
promised a whole new doll. Then
her trip to the department store
was a matter of deciding between
a "dressed” and an "undressed”
dolly. Mothers preferred the latter
because they would bear closer in
spection as to materials and work
manship. Dolly’s clothes were eas
ily made out of the family scrap-bag
or by the willing hands of the family
seamstress* who did the job for rec
reation. Moreover, the undressed
doll cost a little less. But sister
liked to linger over those in silks
and satins with poke-bonnets and
plumes covering their golden curls.
They wore petticoats and often they
held their fragile fingers in tiny
mulls of mink and sable.
© Western Newspaper Union.
..
CHRISTMAS GLADNESS
Tilchimes in the spires,
The singing of choirs,
Are telling these tidings anew;
May all their glad ringing
And all their sweet singing
Fill Christmaswith gladness fur you!
&!XfcU^
Ch’iibfanai-*
by * O *
Blanche Jtnnif'/OUtin ^
IT WAS foolish to waste time and
material making them, John
Carlson told his mother when
she said she would like to make
some “gingerbread dolls” for the
Christmas display in the window of
his bakery. No one was interested
in such things any more.
Yes, he was a very good son to
her—he had given her a good home.
She had nothing to worry her now—
no responsibility. But she would
enjoy making the dolls; that
wouldn’t seem like work. She would
furnish the materials and make
them in her own kitchen. Of course
if she wanted to make them she
could, John said.
That he was wrong, John had to
admit. “We have never had so
much interest shown in the window
display and never sold more than
we have since we put those ginger
bread dolls in the window,” John
told a customer who had returned
for a second purchase of dolls. Hul
da Carlson had made not one type of
doll, but different ones, and grouped
them into families. “Her idea of
grouping them into families is new.
That’s what attracted attention,”
the customer said.
When John told his mother this,
she smiled. It was the love and
happy thoughts—glad memories—
“That’s What Attracted Attention,”
the Customer Said.
which went into the making that
was the cause, she iold herself. Her
children had loved the sweet bits
she had made for them at Christ
mas. Her children and grandchil
dren had outgrown such pleasures,
but weren't there others who would
enjoy those things? There proved to
be many. And what joy it had
brought her. No profit in money,
but large dividends in joy—real
Christmas joy—that of serving and
giving happiness.
© Western Newspaper Union.
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Make This Cloth
There’s magic in this two col
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makes delightful pick-up work.
You may use the same color
Pattern 1570
throughout, if you prefer. Pat
tern 1570 contains chart and di
rections for making the square;
material requirements; illustra
tions of the square and of all
stitches used; a photograph of th«
square; cblor suggestions.
Send 15 cents in stamps or coins
(coins preferred) for this pattern
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Please write your name, ad
dress and pattern number plainly
I
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INSIST ON GENUINE NUJOL
Copr 1997 SUncoIae
WNU—U 50—37
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