Mistress of Montereif
• • • O < • ^ «<■ e Virginia Stivers Bartlett
Uirqirua Stivers Dart Lett h h h ^3.^.
SYNOPSIS
In Spanish-governed California of 1783
• conflict between Church and State i»
represented by two friendly enemies,
frail old Fray Junipero Serra, Francis
can missionary, and Don Pedro Fages,
civil governor. After telling Serra he is
sending to Mexico for his wife and son,
whom he has not seen for eight years,
he refuses his aid toward founding the
Santa Barbara Mission. Dona Eulalia
agrees to go to California, accompanied
by her duenna. Angustias. Don Pedro
sends for Serra, telling him that two
priests are on their way from Mexico
with Eulalia and young Pedro and that
he is leaving to meet them. Fages en
gages a young Indian girl, Indizuela, as
maid for Eulalia. Eulalia sails from
San Bias. It is a desolate trip. From
the port of Loreto, a large cavalcade
loaded with Eulalia's party starts out for
the long overland trip. Eulalia, accus
tomed to luxury and comfort, bitterly
regrets having been persuaded to come.
The two priests. Fray Mariano and Fray
Bartolomeo, call on her and arouse her
suspicions as to their genuineness. As
the cavalcade stops at various missions.
Eulalia hears rumors of the approach of
her husband. While Don Pedro plans a
great fiesta to welcome his wife. Eulalia
plans her costume. Don Pedro wel
comes his beautiful wife and young son.
Eulalia is toasted as the Queen of the
Californias. On the long journey to
Monterey, the reunited couple are roy
ally entertained at the Presidio at San
Diego. Eulalia disapproves of the demo
cratic relations of Don Pedro and his
people. Pleading weariness in the midst
of the feast she goes to bed where
Angustias tells her she knows Eulalia is
again to become a mother. Don Pedro
is disturbed by the developments in the
character of the priests and dreads
Serra’s disappointment in them. Limp
ing from mission to mission, Father
Serra has a vision of St. Francis and
tells his saintly master that he will be
ready to join him when Santa Barbara
Mission is founded. Meanwhile Eulalia
finds there is a conflict between Serra
and Don Pedro and plans to use the
priest as an ally. After a flattering wel
come at Monterey, Eulalia is bitterly
disappointed in the presidio. Going to
Father Serra's mission for mass, Don
Pedro has an argument with the priest,
who accuses him of betraying a trust
because of the rascally caliber of the
two priests. Serra calls in response to
a message from Eulalia.
CHAPTER XIV—Continued
—11—
‘‘A blessing on this house,” he
muttered, making the sign of the
cross.
He blinked. The room was bright
with candlelight, for though it was
only late afternoon, a heavy fog
darkened the day, and made it cool,
so that the open fire was comforting
and cheery.
‘‘Ah, your Reverence!” La Gob
ernadora’s voice was respectfully
cordial. ‘‘Please do excuse me for
not rising. Sit you here by the fire,
Father, where you may rest, and
warm yourself after your long
walk. It is so good, so very, very
good of you to make this visitation
upon me, in answer to my plea to
you!”
Serra sat down absently, and
stretched his hands a moment to
ward the fire. Then they fell into
his lap, and his fingers twined about
the beads of the rosary suspended
from his rope girdle.
Eulalia waited nervously for him
to speak. She stirred impatiently.
Beneath her feet Escabellito
sneezed. The sound exploded the
silence. Junipero Serra leaned for
ward, and looked at the child.
‘‘What is this!” he exclaimed.
‘‘What do I see? Senora, are you
resting your feet on a little Indian
child?”
“Why, yes.” Eulalia flushed.
The missionary’s eyes blazed sud
denly.
“But he is a human being,
Senora! A soul! Not an insensate
object, nor a dog.”
“My husband, the Governor,” she
raised her eyes to the priest,
“brought him to me in Lower Cali
fornia, and gave him to me for a
foot-stool. We call him Escabellito.
He is really my little slave. You
may run along, Escabellito.”
The child rose and darted from
the room.
"A slave!” exclaimed the priest.
“Dear God, how pitiful. My poor
dark children, slaves! But it is what
I would expect of the Governor of
the Californias, in his arrogance.”
Eulalia’s hands trembled a little
at her stitching.
“It is not my wish to have him a
slave, Padre. It is my husband’s.
He ... he seems to think it befitting
my position as his wife, to have an
Indian for a slave. I have always
been guiltily uncomfortable with
him at my feet. But my husband
...” She sighed virtuously, and
shook her head.
“Praise God, then, your heart is
tender toward the Indians! That
cheers me, Senora. I am most en
couraged to know your feelings. I
had not dared hope for such aid
from ..."
“From the wife of the Governor?”
asked Eulalia quickly.
Junipero Serra looked at her
searchingly.
“You may speak openly, frankly,
with me, Padre, I feel that I know
what your problems are, and deep
ly sympathize with you. I would
like to help you solve them, if I
can.”
The old man leaned eagerly for
ward, his eyes brightening.
“I believe you could do much, Se
nora la Gobernadora. Perhaps,”
he exclaimed as a thought seized
upon him, "perhaps it is you who
have been sent as an answer to all
my prayers, instead of those two
... I can not call them Francis
cans . . . but you know to whom
I refer.”
La Gobernadora laughed nervous
ly, and dropped her sewing. “Padre
mio, that is too much, to call me an
answer to prayer. I ... I really
can not . . .”
“But you are, dear daughter! 1
prayed for help to found the Mis
sion Santa Barbara, and you will
be my help. Yes, I am sure of it!”
His eyes were gleaming. Eulalia
rubbed her hands restlessly before
the fire.
"Father,” she began, then hesi
tated. “Father, what stands in the
way of founding that mission?”
“Nothing! The time has been long
ripe for it. Nothing stands in the
way. But there is one man that
does.”
He stopped abruptly, and looked
sternly at La Gobernadora. Beneath
his glance, she stirred, and gather
ing up her needlework crumpled it
in her nervous fingers.
"1 need not ask you who that is.
i ... I feel . . . that it is my
husband Am I right. Father?”
“So you know it, then? Yes, it is
he, Senora. The Governor himself,
that proud rash man, who arrogant
ly believes his vain temporal power
can stop the progress of Mother
Church. And that, he must learn to
his sorrow, he can not do!”
Eulalia shivered.
“Yes, he must learn that. But
how am I to help him, and you,
and the Church?” she asked brave
ly
“Daughter,” said the priest ear
nestly, “you are as close to Don
Pedro as his very heart. You know
how to reach him. And as a pious
God-fearing woman, a true daugh
ter of the Church, your prayers will
surely be heard. He must be made
to see that plans must go forward
swiftly for Santa Barbara. You must
make him see that. I, it seems,
can not reach him, through any
“A Blessing cn This House,”
He Muttered.
channel, though he has my pray
ers.”
“And if I can not reach him.
Padre. What then?”
“Then there must be someone
else!"
Eulalia took a deep breath.
“You mean someone else . . in
his place?”
“There is no other way. The Gov
ernor of California must be a man
willing to aid and succor the Church
at every step. And Don Pedro
Fages, unless you can influence him,
Senora, is not that man.”
La Gobernadora was trembling.
When she tried to speak, her voice
was lost. With an effort she con
trolled herself.
“Then, that would mean . .
leaving California?” she asked in
almost a whisper.
“That would mean his leaving Cal
ifornia. Ah, Senora, if it comes to
that, would you be willing, after all
the long wearisome journey you
have made to this place, to leave
it? For the sake of our Holy Mother
Church?”
Eulalia lifted her head with a deep
breath. She faced the missionary’s
questioning eyes, that gleamed into
hers, bright with fires of new hope.
Then she averted her head, and
looked into the fire, answering, “1
would, for the sake of Holy Mother
Church.”
Serra lifted his hand toward her
in a gesture of blessing.
“The Holy Mother bless you for
that!” he exclaimed in a happy
voice. "God will reward you for
your unselfishness!”
Eulalia dared not raise her eyes.
That guilty feeling, which had as
sailed her at her first meeting with
the holy man made it impossible for
her to look at him, even to speak.
The priest rose slowly.
“Now I must depart, Senora la
Gobernadora. It has been a happy
visit with you. my good daughter.
My heart is lighter for it. God has
answered my prayers in sending
you here to intercede with the Gov
ernor for me . . . how I am count
ing on your help, Senora. Some
thing will be done now, I know. I
have sent messages to the Viceroy
begging for more help for the Mis
sion Santa Barbara. He may grant
it ... he may deny it But if he
denies it, it will need the influence
of the Governor to bring things
about. And there is where you will
help.”
Junipero Serra sighed. *'I still
have some temporal, some worldly
influence, Senora. And if I must,
I will use it, to justify my just and
holy plans.”
"Of ... of course.”
The priest moved toward the door,
where Angustias awaited to usher
him out.
“But I will only use that, and
very much against my will, if every
other channel, and your gentle in
fluence, fails. Ah. but I would hate
to! I do not know if you can under
stand how I feel toward*Don Pedro;
how, although we differ on every
point in life, I admire, respect, yes,
love him, as a friend . . even a
brother.” His voice trembled, and
his eyes misted. “That is why all
this hurts me so deeply, so mortal
ly, for I love the man. Ah, well,
you do not understand. Tell his
Excellency for me, that he has my
sincere, earnest prayers, and to lis
ten to his wife’s gentle counsel.
Will you, Senora?”
The lady nodded dumbly.
“Adios, Senora la Gobernadora.”
Again he blessed the house and, fol
lowed by Pio, was soon swallowed
up in the fog.
When he had gone, Eulalia pulled
closer to the fire. She cast her sew
ing impatiently on the floor.
“Escabellito!” she called sudden
ly, “where are you, little imp?
Come, get here where you belong!”
The child scurried to his place be
neath her feet.
It was thus the Governor found
her when he came into the palacio,
his beard and eyebrows beaded with
fog.
“Junipero Serra has been here,”
she said slowly.
“He has? What did he say?” ques
tioned the Governor eagerly.
“He ... he . .” she hesi
tated. “He is impossible.' Nothing
can be done, I am afraid. It is hope
less for you, or for me, to try to
move him.”
“I was afraid of that. He left
no word, no message?”
“None.”
The Governor sighed.
CHAPTER XV
In the cell that was their quar
ters at Carmelo, Fray Mariano
Rubi and Fray Bartolome Gill were
indulging themselves in a little rec
reation. It was only a tiny adobe
cubicle, but the two friars were
able, through their peculiar talents,
to amuse themselves wherever they
chanced to be. No spot was too
small or too grand, too low or too
lofty.
Fray Mariano sprawled on the
boards of his celibate cot. Fray Bar
tolome was poring over a stained
half-finished letter that lay before
him on the wine-stained table.
“Yes," he said thickly, “it is well
I got this away from Fray Juni
pero in time, or it might have been
finished and dispatched to Mexico.
Then where would we have been?
Eh, answer me, can’t you, you . .
Fray Mariano scratched himself.
“I don’t know where we would
have been. In limbo, probably. How
MMHI
did you get this letter from his Sanc
timonious Reverence?”
“Ha! What a glorious strategist
I am, Brother!” the other replied.
“Listen well. It was this way. Fray
Junipero had called me to his room.
I went He was reading all the dis
patches that arrived this morning on
the San Antonio. He had his spec
tacles on his nose, and his face
was very intent, so that he did not
see me at first. I made a little
noise. A-hemmed. you know, very
softly and respectfully.”
The other sniggered. “Yes, I can
imagine how.”
"Then he looked up. and told me
to wait a moment, that he had been
writing a report about you and me
to the Father Guardian in Mexico,
and wished to speak to me about it.
I was worried, and hard put to wait
patiently. So I stepped outside the
cell, and met an Indian. You know
him, Estevanico.”
Fray Mariano stretched himself
on his cot.
“Indeed 1 do. He is the sweet ne
ophyte from whom 1 won this nice
blanket at gambling. Go on.”
“The very one. So I whispered
to him, and plotted a little plot. He
was to steal the father's spectacles.
Steal them, you understand, so that
Fray Junipero could see to write
no more letters! Wasn’t that a beau
tiful plot?”
The other grunted a grudging ad
miration. “But what is he to get
for doing that?” he asked suspi
ciously.
“Oh. I am to give his blanket back
to him. the one you won. But
then ...”
“You are! Just try , . .”
"Ah, be quiet. I said I woulc
That is all. So in a moment he
slipped into the cell and watched
the father writing Now of course
you understand the father treats all
those louse-ridden Indians like fa
vorite sons, so when he saw this
one standing there, he took off his
spectacles and asked him what he
wished."
“The Indian expressed a great
curiosity about the spectacles. *What
are they?’ he asked, 'and do you
see God through them?’ And then
. . . well . . .”
"Well, the father said yes, I sup
pose. Continue.’’
“Yes, he said he saw God every
where, with the glasses or without."
He stopped a moment thoughtfully.
“What if he does see God?” he
asked abruptly with a little shiver.
“Don’t be a superstitious baby,”
the other snarled. “Get on with
your story.”
“Then the Indian said, ‘I want to
see God!’ Oh, it was wonderful.
Brother, so cute, so sly, just like a
spoiled child! So he snatched up
the spectacles and put them over
his nose. He began to leap and
dance.” The friar began illustrating
his story. “Up and down, thus,
with the spectacles hanging from
his greasy ears, flinging his hands
about and shouting, ‘I see God! I
see God!’ He circled around and
around until he reached the door,
then he scrambled out, still shout
ing, and was gone in a trice!”
“And what did the father do?”
“He ran to the door in a panic,
calling Estevanico back. And when
he saw he had gone, he shook his
head and said, ‘Poor little one, he
doesn’t know he has taken his fa
ther’s eyes.’ ”
(TO III- CONTINUED)
Deadly Car Gas Strikes on the Open
Highway as Well as in Closed Garage
Statisticians meet a stone wall
when they attempt to determine
how many other lives are lost each
year, directly or indirectly, from
the effects of carbon monoxide gas.
It can strike on the open road, as
well as in the closed garage, and in
the former case, says the Public
Safety Magazine, the victim sel
dom has any idea of what is wrong
with him.
He feels dizzy, loses control of
his car, and smash! he goes into an
other motorist, a pedestrian, or a
fixed object. When questioned by
police he rarely knows the real
cause of the accident.
The drowsy feeling may be in
duced by carbon monoxide fumes
escaping from leaks in the exhaust
manifold or muffler and creeping
up into the driver’s face through
cracks in the floor board.
Carbon monoxide may also find
its way in the passenger compart
ment of a car that is following an
other auto too closely.
Particularly in heavy traffic, it is
possible for a car to pick up a suf
ficient quantity of exhaust gas from
the vehicle preceding it to result
in a dangerous mixture in the sec
ond car.
If the drowsy feeling resulting
from the absorption of small con
centrations of carbon monoxide de
lays the mental reaction time of a
driver traveling 50 miles an hour
by so much as half a second, his
car will travel 37 feet during that
time.
It is quite possible that many un
explained traffic accidents can be
laid, at least indirectly, at the door
of carbon monoxide.
The National Safety council's ad
vice in fighting the danger of carbon
monoxide poisoning is to get plenty
of fresh air—never start a car in
a closed garage—and always have
at least one window partly open
when driving, even on the coldest
days.
King Midas Had Donkey Ears
King Midas, although the world’s
richest man, had donkey’s ears. So
the legend tell; us. And his barber,
unable to contain the dreadful se
cret, whispered it into a hole in the
ground. And the reeds that grew on
the spot, says Science Service, re
peated his whi per and betrayed the
secret. All of this, declares Prof.
Robert Lehma in-Nitsche of Berlin,
is simply effort on the part of the
Greeks to explain the fact that this
half - fabulou Oriental monarch
wore a cap consisting of a horse’s
or wild ass' scalp with the ears and
part of the mane attached. Pro
fessor Lehmann-Nitsche has found
evidence of the wearing of such caps
in early times. When metal hel
mets replaced the original hide
caps, they were ornamented with
erect metal ears. And the horse
hair crests that still adorn the fancy
dress helmets of some heavy cav
alry corps are a last remnant of the
mane that hung from the old horse
scalp caps of ancient hunter-kings.
HCNPJ sew
4t"_ Ruth Wyeth Spears
An Interesting Border for a Braided Rag Rug.
AN OLD house sitting in the
midst of old fields against a
background of pincy woods not so
far from where the-Pilgrims land
ed. The present occupant is just
as interested in handwork and just
as thrifty as all of her New Eng
land ancestors who have preceded
her there. She still makes braided
rag rugs from discarded gar
ments and they harmonize per
fectly with her lovely old furni
ture. One that she showed me
was different than any 1 had ever
seen. Here are all the dimensions
and method of making it in case
it is new to you, too, and you
would like to make one like it.
The center oval part is 32 inches
long and 16 inches wide with
6-inch scroll border all around.
The scrolls are made in pairs
from braided strips 23m yards
long. These strips are braided
tight so they are not more than
% inch wide. The center of each
strip is marked as shown here at
A and the ends are then sewn
around and around, working to
ward me tcnier as ai id
pairs of scrolls are sewn together
and also to the edge of the rug as
indicated here at the lower right.
This kind of rug has infinite pos
sibilities for color schemes. One
seen had a blue center, a band
of mixed color and then a wide
band of red. The pairs of scrolls
alternated red and blue.
Full instructions for making the
chair seat covers shown in this
sketch are in the book offered
herewith.
Every homemaker should have
a copy of Mrs. Spears’ new book
SEWING. Forty-eight pages of
step-by-step directions for making
slipcovers and dressing tables;
curtains for every type of room;
lampshades, rugs, ottomans and
other useful articles for the home.
Readers wishing a copy should
send name and address, enclosing
25 cents (coins preferred) to Mrs
Spears, 210 South Desplaines St.,
Chicago.
Mistake-O-Graph Answers
1. There are no letters on the desk, con
trary to the man's statement.
2. One of his coat lapels Is turned the
wrong way.
3. Phone Is not connected.
4 Pencil sharpener has no handle.
5. No hands on desk clock.
6. Lamp Is lit. but not connected.
7. Calendar on wall is out of date and
numbers are In incorrect order.
8. Bookkeeper's stool docs not reach
floor.
8. Tacks on seat of chair.
10. Penholder lacks a point.
11. Dollar bills in waste basket.
12. Desk faces wrong way.
13. Handles on drawers are unlike.
14 Desk legs are different.
15. Statue labeled “Lincoln" is not Lin
coln.
Copyright.—WNU Service.
The Drawbacks
“Dear Mrs. Pucket,” a school
teacher wrote to the mother of a
pupil, “William was absent this
morning. Will you please tell me
what kept him out of school?”
■“Dear Ma’am,” was the reply.
“William is keeping time for his
father. Last nite he cum home
with an exampel about how long
would it take a man walking 3
miles an hour to walk two and a
half times around a field 4 miles
square. And as Willie ain’t no
man, we had to send his pap.”
Taisoti'te Recipe
ofi the U/eek^^
For Washington’s Birthday.
FEBRUARY 22 would not be
*■ completely celebrated if cher
ries were not featured in some
way during the day. It is true
that the story of the cherry tree
and George Washington is more
closely connected in the memory
of many of us than his great
prowess as the Father of our Coun
try. We seem to take for granted
his ability as a leader and talk
about the cherry tree episode of
his youth.
This recipe for cherry pie is
made to use the entire contents
of a No. 2 can of cherries, which
holds cupfuls.
Cherry Pie.
1 No. 2 can Pitted 2 tablespoons corn>
Red Sour Cherries starch
6 tablespoons sugar ft teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon butter
Line an 8-inch pie pan with
pastry. Drain the cherries from
the juice and place them in the
pastry shell. Mix together sugar,
cornstarch and salt and sprinkle
over the cherries. Pour on the
juice; dot with butter and cover
with a thin top crust or with strips
of pastry. Bake in a hot oven
(475 degrees) for 12 minutes; re
duce temperature to 425 degrees
and continue baking for 45 minutes.
MARJORIE H. BLACK.
s
HOUSEHOLD /
QUESTIONS^
Cheese in Soup.—A piece of
cheese the size of a walnut added
to potato or onion soup gives it a
rich creamy taste.
• • •
Scenting Linens.—Persons who
use scented soaps and like scent
ed linens can obtain the latter
simply by storing the unwrapped
soap in the linen drawer or closet.
* • •
Tip for Good Posture.—While
walking, swing the legs from the
hips and imagine you are walking
down hill with arms and shoulders
relaxed.
* * *
Washing Chamois Skins.—
Chamois skins used for cleaning
windows, silverware and the like,
should be washed in warm water
and soap, then dried slowly in the
open air, but never in the sun or
over heat.
* * *
Cover Apples.—Apples, either
baked or as applesauce, have a
better flavor when cooked in a
covered rather than an uncov
ered container.
• • •
Croutons for Soups.—Cut slices
of dry bread one-half inch thick,
spread with butter and cut into
one-half inch cubes, put them in a
shallow pan and bake in a moder
ate oven about 10 minutes or till
golden brown, turning often to
brown all sides.
a Irium contained in BOTH Pepsodent Tooth Powder
\ l and Pepsodent Tooth Paste
* Very often the natural radiance and
luster of your teeth become hidden by
masking surface-stains . .. just as the
sun is often hidden behind clouds.
These unsightly, masking surface
stains can NOW be brushed away —
thanks to the remarkably thorough ac
tion of modernized Pepsodent contain
ing Irium I This accomplished, your
teeth then glisten and gleam with all
their glorious natural lu3ter!
And Pepsodent containing Irium works
SAFELY—because it contains NO
BLEACH, NO GRIT, NO PUMICE. Try It!
Mistake-O-Graph
ItJJT'm HONEY. I’ulfl
)l[ ft HOME just \
AS SOON AS I
)\ SIGN ALl THESE /
//A LETTERS on
DES*
^_n hj
This week finds our aspiring artist in the marts of trade, having made his way into the office of one
of our captains of industry. Here are his impressions, taken down rather hastily, it seems. There are fif
teen mistakes in all. Can vou find them? Answers will be found above.