ind-up of a gay season. We cannot catch the
evanescent glamour, the optical enchantment, the fantastic fun, the
exquisite art of making long preparation and hard work, careful schemes
for effect, appear like airy nonsense for the amusement of an idle hour.
We show the machinery. A true carnival can only be a success in a
perpetual "summer-land," "within a lovely landscape on a bright and
laughing seacoast." Taine said, "Give me the race, the surroundings, and
the epoch, and I show you the man." Give me fair women, roses, sunshine,
leisure, and high-bred, prancing steeds, and I show you this Santa
Barbara Carnival.

But this is only a portion of the entertainment. There is a display of
flowers at the Pavilion, where everything can be found that blooms in
California, all most artistically arrayed; and more fascinating in the
evening, when hundreds of tiny electric lights twinkle everywhere from
out the grayish-green moss, and the hall is filled with admiring guests.
There is always a play given one evening by amateur talent, a
tournament, and a grand closing ball.

The tournament is exciting, where skilful riders try tilting at rings,
trying to take as many rings as possible on lance while galloping by the
wires on which these rings are lightly suspended---a difficult
accomplishment. Their costumes are elaborate and gay, but never _outre_
or bizarre, and no two alike. Each has his own color, and, like the
knights of old, has a fayre ladye among the spectators who is especially
interested and anxious for his success.

Next comes the Spanish game of "colgar," picking up ten-dollar gold
pieces from the saddle, the horse at full speed. And the gymkhana race
ends the games. Those who enter, saddle at the word "go," open an
umbrella, and, taking out a cigar, light and smoke it--then see who
first rides to the goal.

Last came the real _vaqueros_, and they ride untamed, unbroken horses,
after a long and rather painful struggle to mount. They lasso mustangs
and do wonderful things. But it was too much. I was glad to go and rest.

The Flower Dance at the ball, where human flowers formed intricate
figures and dances for our edification and delight, was so attractive
that my words are of no avail. Picture twenty-eight young ladies, each
dressed to represent a flower--hollyhock, pansy, moss, rose,
morning-glory, eucalyptus blossom, pink clover, yellow marguerite,
Cherokee rose, pink carnation, forget-me-not, buttercup, pink-and-