For smaller parties he had reception room, dining room and dancing hall finished in the oak that his own forests furnished, peons having skillfully hewed the wood, then, under the master's directions, polishing the grain until the markings stood out prominently.
It was the ballroom used for the baile—large party—that showed the resource of California and the cleverness of Mendoza at the best. This room, reaching the length of one side of the house, was built in redwood, of which California is sole producer.
Mammoth trees, grown on the mountains near Santa Cruz, had been felled and split from end to end. The exposed sections were trimmed and smoothed, showing, in many a curious layer of etching, the centuries these monarchs had lived. Oxen by the score and Indians by the hundreds had been engaged for months in bringing to Mission San José these timbers which, placed side by side, made the walls and ceiling of the apartment.
"Of the many wood grains," Mendoza often said, "I prefer the redwood for broad effects. The convolutions run in ampler curve and build themselves readily into large dimensions."
The room was looking its best to-night. Chandeliers, fed by sperm-oil, gave subdued light through delicately tinted shades. Candles branched from the walls, playing their softened brightness everywhere. The reddish wood glistened and showed in strong relief the story of its years.
In the corners were grouped potted plants and flowers and shrubs. Radiant bougainvilleas and flaunting hibiscus were side by side with delicate maidenhair ferns modestly featuring the mossy rocks on which they first saw life.
Rare orchids from Japan, grown robust in the kindlier air of California, strove to surpass in beauty their indigenous relatives. Poinsettias, vivid in their tintings, stood unabashed with the modest lily of the valley and the shrinking violet. The California poppy, lover of both hill and lowland, drooped its head and half folded its petals, diffident in the presence of the grandees of the floral kingdom.
The guests had not yet come into the ballroom. The reception rooms, dressing rooms, and the wide grounds still held them. The señoritas, with hair flowing over their shoulders, and clad in silken skirt and train, with bodice, also silken, close-fitting and high-necked, were not yet ready for the dance. The señoras, near their charges, were chatting away the time.
The men strolled about smoking their cigaritos, passing a word here, a jest there, until the music should call them. Their dress was that of the Spanish cavalier of the time. From their shoulders fell the poncho—long cape—made of beaver from Peru. Later in the evening this garment would be removed, showing old and young in velvet knee-pants, deer-skin leggins beautifully stamped and broidered, and with shoes of polished leather held by golden clasps.
The coat, likewise of imported beaver, reached only to the girth, and was ornamented on arms and shoulders with silver and gold thread.