There is a prairie lawn, spread like a carpet in patterns composed of pretty wild flowers.

Upon it stand hundreds of cottage-built tenements, covered with the creeping vine.

In the centre, the presidio, or government-house; on one side the graceful spire of a church, on the other the massive walls of a convent.

Above all, is a sky of the deepest cobalt blue, richly contrasting with the dark green of the tall pines, and the uncertain and indescribable tints on the horizon of these western prairies.
Even the dogs are polite at Monterey, and the horses which are always grazing about, run up to you and appear as if they would welcome you on your arrival; but the fact is that every traveller carries a bag of salt at his saddle-bow, and by their rubbing their noses against it, it is clear that they come to beg a little salt, of which they are very fond.
Everybody and every animal is familiar with you, and, strange to say, the English who reside there are contented, and still more strange, the Americans are almost honest.

What a beautiful climate it must be at Monterey! Their hospitality is unbounded.