'Twas a leetle mouldy on top, but the heft on 't was hard,--a reg'lar bonanzy fer a stage-driver." It may seem irreverent to introduce this droll fellow in sharp contrast with the beautiful ruin, full of the most cherished memories of old Spain, but reality often gives romance a hard jar.

It is pleasant to know that the expelled Franciscan order has just returned to California, and that San Luis Rey is now occupied.

It is worth making the trip to San Juan to see the old bells struck, as in former times, by a rope attached to the clapper.

They have different tones, and how eloquently they speak to us.

These missions along the coast and a line farther inland are the only real ruins that we have in America, and must be preserved, whether as a matter of sentiment or money, and in some way protected from the vandals who think it jolly fun to lug off the old red tiles, or even the stone bowl for holy water--anything they can steal.
At San Juan the plaster statues have been disgracefully mutilated by relic-hunters and thoughtless visitors.