Pueblo, a town.
Pinola is parched corn ground fine between stones, eaten with milk.
Pinoche, chopped English walnuts cooked in brown sugar—a nice candy.
Rancho, a farm; and rio, river.
Everything is a ranch out here; the word in the minds of many stands for home. A little four-year-old boy was overheard praying the other day that when he died the Lord would take him to His ranch.
Sacramento is the sacrament.
Sierra, saw-toothed; an earthquake is a temblor.
San and Santa, the masculine and feminine form of saint.
As the men who laid out a part of New York evidently travelled with a classical dictionary, and named the towns from that, as Rome, Syracuse, Palmyra, Utica, so the devout Spanish explorer named the places where he halted by the name of the saint whose name was on the church calendar for that day. And we have San Diego (St. James), San Juan (St. John), San Luis, San José, San Pedro, Santa Inez, Santa Maria, Santa Clara, and, best of all, Santa Barbara, to which town we are now going.
The Mexican dialect furnishes words which are now permanently incorporated in our common speech; as: