Suzanna

The tinkling of guitars in the moonlight; the softly hummed words of a Spanish love song; the sweet liquid music of the bells in the mission San Carlos De Carmelo; fleeting pictures of old Father Junipero Serro—these and a hundred other rich memories flood the mind as one unfolds the story of little Suzanna a peon girl poor futureless at a time when the Dons and the grandsons of the conquistadores were supreme in California.<BR /><BR />You think of Ramona; the dust covered stretches of El Camino Real—the King’s Highway—appear before your eyes; you hear the roaring of quaint old-fashioned muzzleloading guns the clash of cold steel; subconsciously you thrill to the deeds of valor of sacrifice and danger. You are in step with romance and adventure when it was in its heyday in Old California.<BR /><BR />Red-lipped smoky-eyed senoritas smile on you; your nostrils dilate with ungent aromas of hot golden brown tortillas or fragrant steaming tamales; for you the clock has been turned back a hundred years—you walk in a land that is gone but in which fate played as recklessly with the lives of men and women as it does in our own world today.<BR /><BR />