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Updated: June 4, 2025


Pajaro Corazon and Chupa Rosa, a little humming-bird who lives in that elder tree, have been my only friends and companions in the muse, until you came. I wouldn't abuse Chupa Rosa's confidence by reading my poem to her.

These two for the Casa de Huespedes, Numero 6, en la calle de las Buenas Gracias. And say to them all, muchacho, that the Pajaro sails for Panama at three this afternoon. If any have letters to send by the post, let them come quickly, that they may first pass through the correo." Mrs. Conant received her roll of newspapers at four o'clock.

That night we slept on piles of wheat in a mill at Soquel, near Santa Cruz, and, our supplies being short, I advised that we should make an early start next morning, so as to reach the ranch of Don Juan Antonio Vallejo, a particular friend, who had a large and valuable cattle-ranch on the Pajaro River, about twenty miles on our way to Monterey.

When Bridger had finished I asked him: "Did he get the right man?" "He did," said the Consul. "And how did he know?" I inquired, being in a kind of bewilderment. "When he put Morgan in the dory," answered Bridger, "the next day to take him aboard the Pajaro, this man Plunkett stopped to shake hands with me and I asked him the same question." "'Mr.

Already two dories from the village one conveying fruit inspectors, the other going for what it could get were halfway out to the steamer. The inspectors' dory was taken on board with them, and the Pajaro steamed away for the mainland for its load of fruit.

But to-day he who proclaimed the Pajaro gained his honours. Ratona bent its ear to listen; and soon the deep-tongued blast grew louder and nearer, and at length Ratona saw above the line of palms on the low "point" the two black funnels of the fruiter slowly creeping toward the mouth of the harbour. You must know that Ratona is an island twenty miles off the south of a South American republic.

We found the bridge over the Pajaro river utterly destroyed by last winter's rains. We crossed through the bed of the stream without difficulty and were soon upon the main road to Salinas, just below San Juan. As we ascended the San Juan hills, we paused at a turn in the road and got a view of the beautiful valley in which Hollister lies. No more peaceful landscape ever greeted mortal eye.

"Buy the Americans of Pajaro Valley out, of course, as they are already doing." "And then?" she questioned. Benson looked at her quickly. "Then they'll start buying the Americans out of some other valley. And the Americans will spend the money and by the second generation start rotting in the cities, as you and your husband would have rotted if you hadn't got out."

Her lover has turned out a worthless fellow and left her that was him you saw flying past just now, going up the cañon to sport around with the other hummers but here is my poem to Pajaro Corazon." He drew forth his bundle of papers and in a shamefaced way handed one of them to Lucy.

Merriam to come out for just a few moments that I may speak with him?" Tio Pancho bowed as an elephant bows. "Buenas tardes, Senora Conant," he said, as a cavalier talks. And then he went on, less at his ease: "But does not the senora know that Senor Merriam sailed on the Pajaro for Panama at three o'clock of this afternoon?"

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