Days of travel bring the hills of Mariposa into view. Here the monarchs of the forest rise in air; their wild harps are swept by the cool breezes of the Sierras. Tall, stately redwoods, swathed in rich, soft, fibrous bark, tower to the skies. Brave oaks spread their arms to shelter the doe and her fawns. The madrona, with greenest leaf and pungent berry, stands here. Hazels, willows, and cottonwoods follow the water. Bald knolls are studded with manzanita, its red berry in harvest now. Sturdy groves of wild plum adorn the hillsides. Grouse and squirrel enjoy their annual feast. The journey is over. When the train winds around a sweeping range, Don Miguel nears his wife. The San Joaquin is studded with graceful clumps of evergreen. In its bosom a lake shines like a diamond. The Don uncovers smilingly. "Mi querida, there lies your home, Lagunitas," he murmurs. Sweet Juanita's eyes beam on her husband. She says softly, "How beautiful!" It is truly a royal domain. From the lake the ten leagues square of the Commandante's land are a panorama of varying beauties. Stretching back into the pathless forests, game, timber, wood, and building stones are at hand; a never-failing water supply for thousands of cattle is here. To the front, right, and left, hill pastures and broad fields give every variety of acreage. Blithely the young wife spurs her favorite steed over the turf. She nears the quarters. The old sergeant is the seneschal of this domain. He greets the new arrivals. With stately courtesy the Commandante lifts his bride from her charger. The hegira is over. The occupation of arranging abodes for all is the first task. Already the cattle, sheep, and horses are fattening on the prairie grasses. Peons are sawing lumber. A detachment is making bricks for the houses. These are one-storied mansions with wide porches, beloved by the Californians; to-day the most comfortable homes in the West. Quaintly superstitious, the natives build so for fear of earthquakes. Corrals, pens, and sheds have been first labors of the advance guard. The stores and supplies are all housed. Don Miguel left the choice of the mansion site to his Juanita. Together they visit the different points of vantage. Soon the hacienda rises in solid, fort-like simplicity. The bride at Lagunitas strives to aid her companion. She shyly expresses her preferences. All is at her bidding. Don Miguel erects his ranch establishment in a military style. It is at once a square stronghold and mansion shaded with ample porches. Corrals for horses, pens for sheep, make up his constructions for the first year. Already the herds are increasing under the eyes of his retainers. The Commandante has learned that no manual work can be expected of his Californian followers, except equestrian duties of guarding and riding. A flash of mother-wit leads him to bring a hundred mission Indians from the bay. They bear the brunt of mechanical toil.