into one where it would be tenderly cherished, and worshipped every day. If only San Fernando were not so far away, and the wooden saints so heavy! However, it should come about yet. Majella should have a saint; nor distance nor difficulty should keep Alessandro from procuring for his Majel the few things that lay within his power. But he held his peace about it. It would be a sweeter gift, if she did not know it beforehand. He pleased himself as subtly and secretly as if he had come of civilized generations, thinking how her eyes would dilate, if she waked up some morning and saw the saint by her bedside; and how sure she would be to think, at first, it was a miracle,—his dear, devout Majella, who, with all her superior knowledge, was yet more credulous than he. All her education had not taught her to think, as he, untaught, had learned, in his solitude with nature.
Before Alessandro had been two days in San Pasquale, he had heard of a piece of good-fortune which almost passed his belief, and which startled him for once out of his usual impassive demeanor.
“You know I have a herd of cattle of your father's, and near a hundred sheep?” said Ysidro.
“Holy Virgin!” cried Alessandro, “you do not mean that! How is that? They told me all our stock was taken by the Americans.”
“Yes, so it was, all that was in Temecula,” replied Ysidro; “but in the spring your father sent down to know if I would take a herd for him up into the mountains, with ours, as he feared the Temecula pasture would fall short, and the people there, who could not leave, must have their cattle near home; so he sent a herd over,—I think, near fifty head; and many of the cows have calved; and he sent, also, a little flock of sheep,—a hundred, Ramon said; he herded them with ours all summer, and he left a
