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the balance. To Vallejo's feet France, Russia, England sent suitors, as if in his hand lay the disposal of this fair Pacific province.

Naturally the conversation turned on the future of the country, its independence of Mexico, whether feasible, and could it be maintained by the few whites then in California, the idea of a French protectorate, the extension of the Russian claims to this free and lovely land, and Sir George's suggestion in a quiet way that England could make it to Vallejo's advantage to favor the queen. Vallejo was used to this had he not a hand full of propositions? With due Spanish etiquette he listened to all, entertained all, drew out the various phases of advantage, yet held himself uncompromised.

Evening brought on the fandango. Don Salvador and his troopers played the guitar, the Alcalde paddled over the bay with the fierce, fat little commandant of the Presidio, round as an apple dumpling. One or two padres, not loath to taste the general's wine, dropped in on their way to San Dolores. The people at Vancouver were dancers, but even they had never seemed to so melt into the liquid poetry of Terpsichore as did these sinuous Spaniards.

"Let this not be the last of your visits," said General Vallejo, as his guests departed after a round of festivity. " When these pretty senoritas are married there will be whole weeks of fandango and bull-fights, and no end of drinking sweet wines." In truth, the California days promised to be far from depressing.

A few days later Eloise sat in the Hudson's Bay House at Yerba Buena, when a jingling cavalier rode up to the door. He seemed a typical Spaniard, in broad-brimmed sombrero, with silken cord and tasse