That this feeling had been much fostered by the idea that I should never
again rejoin them, is more than probable; for from the moment that I
heard that I was to proceed to Monterey, my heart beat tumultuously and
my pulse was doubled in its circulation. I hardly know what it was that
I anticipated, but certainly I had formed the idea of a
terrestrial paradise.
If not exactly a paradise, Monterey is certainly a sweet place; 'tis
even now a fairy spot in my recollection, although sobered down, and, I
trust, a little wiser than I was at that time. There certainly is an air
of happiness spread over this small town. Every one is at their ease,
everybody sings and smiles, and every hour is dedicated to amusement
or repose.
None of your dirty streets and sharp pavements; no manufactories with
their eternal smoke; no policemen looking like so many knaves of clubs;
no cabs or omnibuses splashing the mud to the right and to the left;
and, above all, none of your punctual men of business hurrying to their
appointments, blowing like steam-engines, elbowing everybody, and
capsizing the apple-stalls. No; there is none of these at Monterey.
There is a bay, blue and bottomless, with shores studded with tall
beautiful timber. There is a prairie lawn, spread like a carpet in
patterns composed of pretty wild flowers.
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