[Illustration: CARMEL MISSION From Photograph by Dassonville]
Monterey was one of the points visited by Dana in 1835, towards the end of the Spanish domination, and the picture he gives is a charming one:
"The pretty lawn on which the village stands, as green as sun and rain could make it; the low adobe houses with red tiles; the pine wood on the south; the small soiled tri-color flag flying and the discordant din of drums and trumpets for the noon parade," were the salient features of the town that he sets down. Of these, the low adobe houses with the red tiles and the pine wood still remain, but the green lawn and the tri-color flag of Spain are to be seen no more.
After the town the mission will be the next goal of the tourist—if, indeed, it has not been the first object to engage his attention. It is on the other side of the peninsula, some five miles from the Del Monte and a short distance beyond the lovely little village of Carmel-by-the-Sea. The road for half the distance climbs a steady grade and then drops down through the village to the shore of the bay. Here, within a stone's throw of the rippling water, sheltered by the hills on the land side, stands the restored mission church which probably outranks all its contemporaries in historic significance. For it was in a sense the home of the pious old monk whose zeal and energy were responsible for the long chain of Christian missions; and in its solemn confines he was laid to rest. We saw in it a striking resemblance to the presidio church which we had just left, a square, simple bell-tower with a domed roof to the left of the fachada, which is of the prevailing Spanish type. This is broken by a star window of simple yet pleasing design—the only attempt at artistic effect about the severely plain old structure. As it stands, it is the result of a restoration, thirty years ago, from an almost complete ruin—just how complete one may judge from a drawing made by Henry Sandham for Mrs. Jackson's "Glimpses of California," which appeared in 1882. Only two slender arches of the roof were standing then and the space between the walls was filled with unsightly piles of debris. Underneath this was the grave of the reverend founder, Father Serra, the exact location of which was lost. No doubt the earnest appeal of the author of "Ramona" had much to do with the rescue of Carmel Mission Church from the fate which threatened it. She wrote: