When your Americans overran Texas, and commenced to pour over
the plains here, we knew all was lost. Your people have fought a
needless war with Mexico; now they are swarming in here--a godless
race, followed by outcasts of the whole of Europe. There is no law
here but the knife and pistol. Your hordes now arriving have but
one god alone--gold."
The saddened old padre sighs as he gathers his breviary and beads,
seeking his lonely cloister. He is a spectre of a day that is done.
CHAPTER VI.
LIGHTING FREEDOM'S WESTERN LAMP.
Bustling crowds confuse Valois when he rides through San Francisco
next day. One year's Yankee dominion shows a progress greater
than the two hundred and forty-six years of Spanish and Mexican
ownership. The period since Viscaino's sails glittered off Point
Reyes has been only stagnation.
Seventy-three years' droning along under mission rule has ended in
vain repetition of spiritual adjurations to the dullard Indians.
To-day hammer and saw, the shouts of command, the din of trade,
the ships of all nations, and the whistle, tell of the new era of
work. The steam engine is here. The age of faith is past. "Laborare
est orare" is the new motto. Adios, siesta! Enter, speculation.
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