l which suggests mention for its almost unique perfections. The
little town of Monterey, with its balmy air, its beautiful sandy
beach, its adobe buildings, and its charming surroundings, is, like
St. Augustine, full of interesting Spanish associations, dating back
to 1602. The Hotel del Monte, or "Hotel of the Forest," one of the
most comfortable, best-kept, and moderate-priced hotels of America,
lies amid bluegrass lawns and exquisite grounds, in some ways
recalling the parks of England's gentry, though including among its
noble trees such un-English specimens as the sprawling and moss-draped
live-oaks and the curious Monterey pines and cypresses. Its gardens
offer a continual feast of colour, with their solid acres of roses,
violets, calla lilies, heliotrope, narcissus, tulips, and crocuses;
and one part of them, known as "Arizona," contains a wonderful
collection of cacti. The hotel itself has no pretension to rival the
Ponce de Leon in its architecture or appointments, and is, I think,
built of wood. It is, however, very large, encloses a spacious
garden-court, and makes a pleasant enough impression, with its
turrets, balconies, and verandas, its many sharp gables, dormers, and
window-hoods. The economy of the interior reminded me more strongly of
the amenities and decencies of the house of a refined, well-to-do, and
yet not extravagantly wealthy family than of the usual hotel
atmosphere. There were none of the blue satin hangings, ormolu vases,
and other entirely superfluous luxuries for which we have to pay in
the bills of certain hotels at Paris and elsewhere; but on the other
hand nothing was lacking that a fastidious but reasonable taste could
demand. The rooms and corridors are spacious and airy; everything was
as clean and fresh as white paint and floor polish could make them;
the beds were comfortable and fragrant; the linen was spotless; there
was lots of "hanging room;" each pair of bedrooms shared a bathroom;
the _cuisine_ was good and sufficiently varied; the waiters were
attentive; flowers were abundant without and within. The price of all
this real luxury was $3 to $3.50 (12_s._ to 14_s._) a day. Possibly
the absolute perfection of the bright and soft Californian spring when
I visited Monterey, and the exquisite beauty of its environment, may
have lulled my critical faculties into a state of unusual somnolence;
but when I quitted the Del Monte Hotel I felt that I was leaving one
of the most charming ho