I had a remembrance of civilization previous to my arrival among the Indians, and as we enjoyed every comfort and some luxuries at the settlement, I still had a remembrance, although vague, of what had passed in Italy and elsewhere.
But I had become an Indian, and until I heard that I was to under-take this journey, I had recollected the former scenes of my youth only to despise them.
That this feeling had been much fostered by the idea that I should never again rejoin them, is more than probable; for from the moment that I heard that I was to proceed to Monterey, my heart beat tumultuously and my pulse was doubled in its circulation.

I hardly know what it was that I anticipated, but certainly I had formed the idea of a terrestrial paradise.
If not exactly a paradise, Monterey is certainly a sweet place; 'tis even now a fairy spot in my recollection, although sobered down, and, I trust, a little wiser than I was at that time.

There certainly is an air of happiness spread over this small town.

Every one is at their ease, everybody sings and smiles, and every hour is dedicated to amusement or repose.
None of your dirty streets and sharp pavements; no manufactories with their eternal smoke; no policemen looking like so many knaves of clubs; no cabs or omnibuses splashing the mud to the right and to the left; and, above all, none of your punctual men of business hurrying to their appointments, blowing like steam-engines, elbowing everybody, and capsizing the apple-stalls.

No; there is none of these at Monterey.
There is a bay, blue and bottomless, with shores studded with tall beautiful timber.