"BretHarte-LegendsAndTales" - читать интересную книгу автора (Harte Bret)

in a dusky canyon, and rang his bell in the wilderness. The
savages--a peaceful, inoffensive, and inferior race--presently
flocked around him. The nearest military post was far away, which
contributed much to the security of these pious pilgrims, who found
their open trustfulness and amiability better fitted to repress
hostility than the presence of an armed, suspicious, and brawling
soldiery. So the good Father Jose said matins and prime, mass and
vespers, in the heart of Sin and Heathenism, taking no heed to
himself, but looking only to the welfare of the Holy Church.
Conversions soon followed, and, on the 7th of July, 1760, the first
Indian baby was baptized,--an event which, as Father Jose piously
records, "exceeds the richnesse of gold or precious jewels or the
chancing upon the Ophir of Solomon." I quote this incident as best
suited to show the ingenious blending of poetry and piety which
distinguished Father Jose's record.

The Mission of San Pablo progressed and prospered until the pious
founder thereof, like the infidel Alexander, might have wept that
there were no more heathen worlds to conquer. But his ardent and
enthusiastic spirit could not long brook an idleness that seemed
begotten of sin; and one pleasant August morning, in the year of
grace 1770, Father Jose issued from the outer court of the Mission
building, equipped to explore the field for new missionary labors.

Nothing could exceed the quiet gravity and unpretentiousness of the
little cavalcade. First rode a stout muleteer, leading a pack-mule
laden with the provisions of the party, together with a few cheap
crucifixes and hawks' bells. After him came the devout Padre Jose,
bearing his breviary and cross, with a black serapa thrown around
his shoulders; while on either side trotted a dusky convert,
anxious to show a proper sense of their regeneration by acting as
guides into the wilds of their heathen brethren. Their new
condition was agreeably shown by the absence of the usual mud-
plaster, which in their unconverted state they assumed to keep away
vermin and cold. The morning was bright and propitious. Before
their departure, mass had been said in the chapel, and the
protection of St. Ignatius invoked against all contingent evils,
but especially against bears, which, like the fiery dragons of old,
seemed to cherish unconquerable hostility to the Holy Church.

As they wound through the canyon, charming birds disported upon
boughs and sprays, and sober quails piped from the alders; the
willowy water-courses gave a musical utterance, and the long grass
whispered on the hillside. On entering the deeper defiles, above
them towered dark green masses of pine, and occasionally the
madrono shook its bright scarlet berries. As they toiled up many a
steep ascent, Father Jose sometimes picked up fragments of scoria,
which spake to his imagination of direful volcanoes and impending
earthquakes. To the less scientific mind of the muleteer Ignacio
they had even a more terrifying significance; and he once or twice