The mission of Santa Clara is situated about two and a half miles from the town.  A broad alameda, shaded by stately trees (elms and willows), planted by the padres, extends nearly the entire distance, forming a most beautiful drive or walk for equestrians or pedestrians.  The motive of the padres in planting this avenue was to afford the devout senoras and senoritas a shade from the sun, when walking from the Pueblo to the church at the mission to attend mass.  A few minutes over the smooth level road, at the rapid speed of our fresh Californian horses, brought us to the mission, where we halted to make our observations.  This mission is not so extensive in its buildings as that of San Jose, but the houses are generally in better repair.  They are constructed of adobes; the church was open, and, entering the interior, I found the walls hung with coarse paintings and engravings of the saints, etc., etc.  The chancel decorated with numerous images, and symbolical ornaments used by the priests in their worship.  Gold-paper, and tinsel, in barbaric taste, are plastered without stint upon nearly every object that meets the eye, so that, when on festive occasions the church is lighted, it must present a very glittering appearance.

The rich lands surrounding the mission are entirely neglected.  I did not notice a foot of ground under cultivation, except the garden inclosure, which contained a variety of fruits and plants of the temperate and tropical climates.  From want of care these are fast decaying.  Some excellent pears were furnished us by Mrs. Bennett, an American lady, of Amazonian proportions, who, with her family of sons, has taken up her residence in one of the buildings of the mission.  The picture of decay and ruin presented by this once flourishing establishment, surrounded by a country so fertile and scenery so enchanting, is a most melancholy spectacle to the passing traveller, and speaks a language of loud condemnation against the government.

Proceeding on our journey, we travelled fifteen miles over a flat plain, timbered with groves and parks of evergreen oaks, and covered with a great variety of grasses, wild oats, and mustard.  So rank is the growth of mustard in many places, that it is with difficulty that a horse can penetrate through it.  Numerous birds flitted from tree to tree, making the groves musical with their harmonious notes.  The black-tailed deer bounded frequently across our path, and the lurking and stealthy coyotes were continually in view.  We halted at a small cabin, with a corral near it, in order to breathe our horses, and refresh ourselves.  Captain Fisher had kindly filled a small sack with bread, cheese, roasted beef, and a small jug of excellent schiedam.  Entering the cabin, the interior of which was cleanly, we found a solitary woman, young, neatly dressed, and displaying many personal charms.  With the characteristic ease and grace of a Spanish woman, she gave the usual