El Camino Real 



rifles for the black-tailed deer, and shotguns for the 

 valley quail, while four or five grey- and stag-hounds 

 following were suggestive of hare and coyote as game. 



According to a calendar which the young lady on 

 the box seat carried, it was that thoroughly uncomfort- 

 able period midway the Christmas holidays and the first 

 of March, when in the East thaws and violent freezes fol- 

 low each other like avenging Nemeses ; yet here nature 

 seemed conspiring to impugn the testimony of the rec- 

 ords. It was winter as the seasons go, but to all intents 

 and purposes midsummer in Southern California. The 

 cool breeze was coming in from the Pacific, sweeping 

 up the mesa of the old town, bowling over acres of 

 golden poppies, robbing the field of wild forget-me-nots 

 of its perfume and carrying it over the Mission wall, to 

 mingle with the floral incense of the old church garden. 

 The driver called it a winter day ; yet as he flecked his 

 leaders and the horn gave an answering note to the 

 meadow lark on the Mission wall, there was not one in 

 the party who really believed that the Ides of March 

 were near at hand. 



From the highlands about the Mission the finest view 

 of Santa Barbara is obtained. The Pacific is before us, 

 stretching away to illimitable distance, the crescent- 

 shaped beach facing the south, from which reaches back 

 the intervening town with its broad streets lined with 

 palm, pepper, magnolia, and a wealth of semi-tropical 

 plants and trees. To the north lies the Santa Ynez 

 Valley, the blue ocean on one side, the mountains on 



