A time of "storm
and stress" hung over all.
Wise in victory was Captain Miguel Peralta. His campaign against
the foreigners marked the close of his service. Born in 1798, his
family were lords of broad lands on the Alamedas of San Francisco
Bay. He was sent to the city of Mexico and educated, serving in
the army of the young republic. Returning to Alta California, he
became a soldier.
Often had he sallied out to drive the warlike Indian toward the
Sacramento. In watching his mustangs and cattle, he rode far to
the slopes of the Sierra Nevadas. Their summits glittered under the
blue skies, crowned with silvery snows, unprofaned by the foot of
man.
A sturdy caballero, courtly and sagacious. His forty-two years
admonished him now to settle in life. When Alvarado was in cheeriest
mood, at the feast, the Captain reminded him of his promise to release
him. This would allow Peralta to locate a new ten-league-square
grant of lands, given him for past services to the State.
Graciously the Governor accorded the request. Noblesse oblige!
"Don Miguel, is there any reason for leaving us besides your new
rancho?" said Alvarado. The Captain's cheek reddened a little.
"Senor Gobernador, I have served the State long," said he.
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