This was the beginning of the pastoral or shepherd life. Each rancho was miles in extent, its cattle and horses numbered by thousands. The homes were generally built around a court into which all the rooms opened, and were constructed of adobe bricks such as were used at the missions. In the better class of homes several feet of the space in the courtyard next the wall were covered with tile roofing, forming a shaded veranda, where the family were accustomed to spend the leisure hours. Here they received visitors, the men smoked their cigaritos, and the children made merry. In the long summer evenings sweet strains of Spanish music from violin and guitar filled the air, and the hard earthen floor of the courtyard resounded to the tap-tap of high-heeled slippers, the swish of silken skirts, and the jingle of silver spurs, as the young people took part in the graceful Spanish dances. It was no small matter to rule one of these great households. La Patrona (the mistress) was generally the first one up. “Before the sun had risen,” said a member of one of the old families, “while the linnets and mocking birds were sounding their first notes, my mother would appear at our bedside. ‘Up, muchachos, up, muchachas, and kneel for your Alba!’ The Alba was a beautiful prayer of thanksgiving for care during the night, with a plea for help through the dangers and temptations of the day. No excuse for lying abed was accepted; up, and on the floor we knelt, then she passed on to where the mayordomo, or foreman, and his men were gathering in the courtyard. Here, too, was the cook with the Indian maids, busy making tortillas for the morning meal. ‘Your Albas, my children,’ my mother would say in her clear, firm voice. Down would drop mayordomo, vaqueros, cook, and Indian girls, all devoutly reciting the morning prayer. “After their prayer the children might, if they chose, return to their beds, but before sleep could again overtake them there would probably come from a distant room the voice of their aged grandfather asking them questions from the Spanish catechism. “‘Children, who made you?’ he would call in a quavering voice. “A chorus of small voices would sing-song in response, ‘El Dios’ [God]. “Again he would question, ‘Children, who died for you?’ “Again the reply, ‘El Dios.’ “By the time the questions were all answered there was no chance for more sleep.”