From here we could look north for a long
way with no hill or mountain in sight; but our road led along on the
east side of this treeless plain, so thickly covered with grass that we
recalled some of the old tales of the grassy plains. We passed a
landholder's house on the road, then crossed a range of low mountains
and came to the Mission of San Juan (St. John) situated near the
foot-hills, overlooking a level, rich appearing extent of valley land
with a big vegetable growth all over it; in some places wild mustard
which stood thickly and was from four to ten feet high. I thought what a
splendid place it would be for the Yankees who are fond of greens.
This was the first place since we left Los Angeles where we could buy
any kind of breadstuff, and we were here enabled to get a change of
diet, including greens. This seemed to be one end or side of another
valley, and as we went along it seemed to widen away to the east; but
our course was to the north, and we followed the road. The architecture
of all the buildings except the churches was all the same, being built
of the sun dried adobes or bricks made by mixing up a clay mud with
tough grass and letting it get dry and hard. We saw the same kind of
roof material as before, a sort of mineral tar which I supposed they
must find somewhere about.
I could imagine why the houses were built in this way, for when the
Jesuit missionaries first came in they found the country occupied by
Indians who used their arrows to good effect, as they were jealous of
all outside occupation.
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