Very beautiful is the site of Monterey: its noble flanking mountains, the Silla and the Mitras, are east and west of it; its grand rampart, the Sierra Madre, sweeps majestically from flank to flank to the southward, and its outlying breastwork, a range of far-away blue peaks, is seen mistily off in the north. And the city is in keeping with its setting. The quaint, mysterious houses, inclosing sunny gardens and tree-planted court-yards; the great cathedral where, in the dusk of evening, at vespers, one may see each night new wonders, Rembrandt-like, beautiful, in light and shade; the church of St. Francis, and the old ruined church beside it--built, first of all, in honor of the saint who had guided the Viceroy's commissioners so well; the bowery _plaza_, with the great dolphin-fountain in its centre, and the _plazuelas_, also with fountains and tree-clad; the narrow streets; the old-time market-place, alive with groups of buyers and sellers fit to make glad a painter's heart--all these picturesque glories, together with many more, unite to make the perfect picturesqueness of Monterey. Yet Pancha, who had been born in Monterey, and who never had been but a league away from it in the whole seventeen years of her life-time, did not know that the city in which she lived was picturesque at all. She did know, though, that she loved it very dearly. Quite the saddest time that she had ever passed through was the week that she had spent once at the Villa de Guadalupe--a league away to the eastward, at the Silla's foot--with her Aunt Antonia. It was not that _tia_ Antonia was not good to her, nor that life at the Villa de Guadalupe--as well conducted a little town, be it said, with as quaint a little church, as you will find in the whole State of Nuevo Leon--was not pleasant in its way; but it was that she longed for her own home. And when, coming back at last to the city, perched on the forward portion of _tio_ Tadeo's _burro_, she peeped over the _burro's_ long ears--at the place where the road turns suddenly just before it dips to cross the valley--and caught sight once more of the dome of the cathedral, and the clock-tower of the market-house, and the old Bishop's palace on its hill in the far background, with the Mitras rising beyond, and a flame of red and gold above the Sierra left when the sun went down,--when Pancha's longing eyes rested once more on all these dear sights of home, she buried her little face in _tio_ Tadeo's pudgy shoulder and fairly sobbed for joy.