It was the natal year of Napoleon
Bonaparte, the child imperially crowned by nature, and that iron
chief, Arthur Wellesley, the Duke of Wellington.
The old bell sounded its first call to the faithful on San Francisco
Bay, in 1776. It was but a few months after the American colonists
gave to wondering humanity their impassioned plea for a world's
liberty--the immortal Declaration of the Fourth of July.
No merrier peal ever sounded from its vibrant throat than the rich
notes following Miguel Peralta and his lovely Rose of Alameda.
Revelry reigns at the Presidio; Commandante Peralta's quarters are
open. Music and brightest eyes mark the closing of this day. In
late watches the sentinels remember the feast as they pace their
rounds, for none are forgotten in largesse.
Fair Juanita learns to love the dainty title of Senora. Light is
her heart as she leaves for the Hills.
Don Miguel's barges already are on the San Joaquin. The cattle
have reached their potreros on the Mariposa. Artificer and "peon"
are preparing a shelter for the lord of the grant.
Donna Juanita waves her hand in fond adieu as the schooner glides
across to Alameda. Here Commandante Miguel has a report of the
arrival of his trains.
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