The four Corners in California

by Amy Ella Blanchard

Having supplied themselves with chocolate and other necessary things they started by train for the mission fathered so zealously by Padre Peyri. It compelled a drive of four miles from Oceanside, but this was a pleasant part of the programme and gave an opportunity of disposing of the chocolate and the fruit they were able to get along the way.

The fine old church, even in its dilapidation, was to be admired and Miss Helen pointed out to Nan the outlines of its towers, the beauty of its proportions.

"How unlike anything of ours it is," said Nan. "It has such numbers of pillars and is such a big affair. I don't see where all the people came from to fill it."

"But you see it wasn't all church, dearie. These missions held schools and the people lived here where they were trained for all sorts of occupations; the women learned to weave and spin; the men were taught cabinet making, carpentering and such trades. The Indians came from the little villages around which were called rancherias. Can't you imagine how interesting it must have been to see the religious processions marching along those old corridors chanting their hymns?"

"What is it used for now?" asked Nan gazing at the time-worn building.

"As a college for the training of missionaries to the Indians. It is hoped that they will be able to restore it eventually; a good work, I am sure."

"How they must have hated to give it up when it was turned over to the—what do you call it?"

"To the civil authorities. It is generally called the secularization of the missions, but you needn't try to remember that long word. Yes, we can be assured that it was a great trial, and you can imagine how it must have hurt those who revered the place when it was desecrated by bull fights which took place in the plaza. They say that crowds of people gathered on the roofs to see that dreadful sport. How different from the sweet and peaceful festas of the church. What a change from solemn anthems to the shouts of a bloodthirsty throng of spectators."

"I wonder Father Peyri didn't rise in his grave."

"One might think so if he had been buried here, but it is said that after the republic became a fact and the mission passed into the hands of the secularists, he made up his mind that his thirty years' service must end with his resignation. But he felt so badly about it that he went away in the night."