MONTEREY.
The town of Monterey is situated upon the large bay of that name, formed by the curve of land between Point Año Nuevo on the north, and Point Pinos on the south. Until the adoption of the present constitution for California, Monterey was always the seat of government of the territory, and the residence of her military governors and other officers. The town presents a very neat and pretty appearance, with its houses of white-plastered adobes and its surrounding hills covered with lofty pine trees. It retains its old Spanish peculiarities, and Yankee innovations have as yet made but little progress there. The Spanish don, clothed in his serape and calcineros, still walks through the streets with his lordly air, and the pretty señorita, her dark eyes peering through the folds of her reboso, skips lightly along the footpath. The ancient customs are still continued here, and the sound of the guitar and the light shuffling of pretty feet are heard nightly in the casas. I saw here a few weeks since a funeral celebrated in the old style, which, although by no means new to me, exceedingly astonished some Yankee friends who had but just arrived. A procession of some hundred people, men, women, and children, were straggling along the street, preceded by six little girls, dressed in white, bearing upon their shoulders the coffin of an infant. Upon one side of this were two musicians, with a guitar and violin, playing such tunes as are heard at the country dances in the United States, while upon the other were two tall fellows with muskets, which they were continually loading and firing. By the sides of the procession was a troop of boys, all armed with Chinese fire-crackers, which they exploded by the pack, keeping up a most infernal racket. In this manner the procession marched to the church, where the coffin was opened, and the little body strewn with wild flowers. After some Catholic ceremony the body was committed to the grave, when the whole posse adjourned to the residence of the parents, where a grand fandango and feast were given, which lasted throughout the whole night.
About six miles from Monterey lie the mission and valley of Carmel, one of the prettiest spots in all Upper California, and one of the most favourable for agricultural pursuits; and twenty-five miles distant is the great valley of San Juan, ten miles in width, and thirty miles in length. This valley possesses a climate peculiar to itself, and a soil of exceeding richness. The winds from the ocean are mellowed before they reach here, and fall with a delicious coolness upon this beautiful vale. The agricultural products are principally corn, wheat, and potatoes, which are taken to Monterey and sold at good prices.
The bay of Monterey abounds in fish of every variety, but particularly mackerel, which can be caught in great quantities with a hook and line directly in the harbour. The town contains about one thousand inhabitants, and its climate is superior to that of any other locality on the coast, although during the summer a dense fog usually rises for a few hours in the morning. A fort has been built upon a hill overlooking the town and harbour, and a military force is stationed there. There are several American residents in Monterey at the present time, engaged in mercantile pursuits; but very little building is in progress, and the town bids fair to remain for a long time a representative of California as she was before the indomitable Yankee introduced his “notions” into her territory.
SANTA BARBARA.
South of Monterey is the town of Santa Barbara, a place celebrated for its being the residence of the aristocracy of California, as well as for its beautiful women. There is no harbour to the town, and vessels are obliged to lie at anchor in an open roadstead, often at many miles distant from the shore; and during the spring and fall, when the southeast winds prevail, they are scarcely safe lying here; a high surf is constantly running on the beach, and it is only by the greatest skill in “beaching” a boat that one can escape a severe ducking. The position of the town of Santa Barbara is one of the most beautiful in California. On the right, toward the water, is a lofty hill, rising nearly a thousand feet, from the summit of which the little town resembles one of those mud villages, which school-boys mould in clam-shells. Directly back of the town is a range of almost impassable hills, which run in a diagonal direction, and join the Coast Range at San Luis Obispo. In front is the broad bay, embraced between two points, and having a smooth beach of nearly thirty miles in extent. A mile back from the town, at the head of a gentle slope, is the mission of Santa Barbara, with its venerable white walls and cross-mounted spires.
The town itself is situated upon a plain of some ten miles in extent, and contains about one hundred and fifty houses, built of adobes, all one story in height. Most of these houses contain but two rooms, a large one called the sala, and a small chamber. These houses contain no stoves or fire-places, all the cooking operations of a family being performed in the cocina, which is a building separate from the main dwelling.
The people of Santa Barbara are kind and hospitable. I was stationed there three months, and scarcely a day elapsed that our mess-table did not exhibit some choice specimen of California cookery, made up by the hands of some fair señorita, as a present to “los officiales Americanos.” But here, as all over California, among the native population, laziness is the great characteristic of the people. A fine horse to ride, plenty of beef and frijoles to eat, and cigaros to smoke, and they are satisfied. The whole day with them is spent on horseback, in lazily riding from one tavern to another, or galloping furiously, at the risk of their necks, along the streets. The residents of Santa Barbara are principally rancheros, who visit their ranchos once or twice a year, to attend to the marking and killing of their cattle, and spend the remainder of the year in their town residence, enjoying life to their utmost capacity. Each ranchero usually keeps around the town a sufficient number of cattle for food, and whenever any beef is wanted, a bullock is slaughtered in a manner that would cause the eyes of the English societies for the suppression of cruelties to animals to stare aghast. The animal is first to be caught, which is effected in this manner. A vaquero or herdsman, mounted upon a fleet horse, and provided with a strong rope, with a noose at one end, and called a lasso, rides furiously into the herd of cattle, and selecting the one he wishes swings his lasso around his head, gives a loud yell, at the same time throwing the lasso and planting it over the horns and head of the vanquished bullock. So expert are they in the use of the lasso that they seldom fail at the first trial in catching an animal running at the distance of thirty or forty feet. The animal being captured, he is dragged into town, and being conducted within a corral, another lasso is thrown around his legs, which are thus tripped from under him, when a sharp knife is plunged into his throat.
The favourite amusement of the Californians is dancing, and Santa Barbara is more celebrated for its fandangos than any other town on the coast. These occur nearly every evening in the week, it being always easy to get up an impromptu ball in five minutes, by calling in a guitar or harp player. At these balls there is no exclusiveness, the high and low, rich and poor, all meet on perfect equality, and dance away their sorrows, if they have any, upon the same mud floor. No scented cards of invitation are sent to the favoured few, but all who choose enter and participate freely. At church and at fandangos Californians all find a level. It appears as natural for Californians to dance as to breathe or eat. Often have I seen little girls, scarce six years of age, flying through a cotillon, or circling in the giddy waltz, or dancing with great skill their favourite jotah or jarabe. The girls are all elegant waltzers, and will exhaust the strength of an ordinary American gentleman, who is content with a few turns round the ball-room and then a long promenade.
The town of Santa Barbara contains about five hundred inhabitants, among whom are the Norrigas and Carillos, the two great families of California. It is a beautiful place of residence, with a mild, springlike climate, and around it are some of the pleasantest rides in all California. About four miles distant is the little town of Montecito (little mountain), a collection of farm-houses, where large quantities of vegetables are grown. Three miles beyond this, in the heart of the mountains, is a remarkable hot sulphur spring, to which invalids resort for the purpose of bathing, and six miles in the opposite direction is an Indian village, containing some forty or fifty wigwams, whose tenants are an industrious agricultural people, who raise corn, wheat, and potatoes, and bring them into Santa Barbara for sale.