and in one of these, with a
harbor and sloping upland and canon of its own, lies Santa Barbara,
looking southward towards the sunny islands of Santa Rosa and Santa
Cruz. Above it is the Mission Canon, at the entrance of which is the
best-preserved of the old Franciscan missions. There is a superb drive
eastward along the long and curving sea-beach of four miles to the canon
of Monticito, which is rather a series of nooks and terraces, of lovely
places and gardens, of plantations of oranges and figs, rising up to the
base of the gray mountains. The long line of the Santa Inez suggests the
promontory of Sorrento, and a view from the opposite rocky point, which
encloses the harbor on the west, by the help of cypresses which look
like stone-pines, recalls many an Italian coast scene, and in situation
the Bay of Naples. The whole aspect is foreign, enchanting, and the
semi-tropical fruits and vines and flowers, with a golden atmosphere
poured over all, irresistibly take the mind to scenes of Italian
romance. There is still a little Spanish flavor left in the town, in a
few old houses, in names and families historic, and in the life without
hurry or apprehension. There is a delightful commingling here of sea and
mountain air, and in a hundred fertile nooks in the hills one in the
most delicate health may be sheltered from every harsh wind. I think no
one ever leaves Santa Barbara without a desire to return to it.

Farther down the coast, only eighteen miles from Los Angeles, and a sort
of Coney Island resort of that thriving city, is Santa Monica. Its hotel
stands on a high bluff in a lovely bend of the coast. It is popular in
summer as well as winter, as the number of cottages attest, and it was
chosen by the directors of the National Soldiers' Home as the site of
the Home on the Pacific coast. There the veterans, in a commodious
building, dream away their lives most contentedly, and can fancy that
they hear the distant thunder of guns in the pounding of the surf.

At about the same distance from Los Angeles, southward, above Point
Vincent, is Redondo Beach, a new resort, which, from its natural beauty
and extensive improvements, promises to be a delightful place of sojourn
at any time of the year. The mountainous, embracing arms of the bay are
exquisite in contour and color, and the beach is very fine. The hotel is
perfectly comfortable--indeed, uncommonly attractive--and the extensive
planting of trees, palms, and shrubs,