ch a
new land as this, and hence the old mission seemed old indeed; but it
had the lustre of the dim past also, for our guide was a monk of St.
Francis, and his religious dress carried us back for over six centuries
to sunny Italy and the cradle of his order, Assisi, where St. Francis
dwelt.

Santa Barbara Mission is one of the best preserved of the many old
Spanish religious settlements yet remaining in Southern California, and
its style gives the norm of all the rest. It has a certain grandiose
air suggestive of Spanish magnificence, and reminds one of those
stately creatures one meets so often in Spain, who ask for alms with
high-toned elegance, and return thanks with the manners of a prince.
Such was Santa Barbara. Before the chief entrance of the chapel was a
grand flight of steps, with a generous platform capable of giving
standing-room to any church ceremonial or gathering of worshippers. It
was made up, it is true, of small mason work and stucco; but the effect
was there, and that effect was good. Entering the chapel, we found
ourselves in a stately, flat-roofed building of considerable height and
length. There were several altars at each side, and a number of
religious pictures, quite of the Murillo school, and a Pieta in
plaster, just as one finds Michael Angelo's great masterpiece in St.
Peter's. Beyond all, was the high altar, rather poor and shabby, but
pathetic, nevertheless, in its earnest purpose, with its hanging lamp
telling of the Sacramental Presence within the Tabernacle. The tomb of
the first Roman Catholic bishop of California is at the Epistle side of
the altar; and close by, on the outside, are other graves.

A lay brother took us all over the place. We rang for him at the
entrance door in the cloisters, and found him a sweet-faced, cheerful,
humble man, delighted to please us and be our guide.

We were shown the little museum with some splendid old service books,
those huge folios which, before the present cheap reproduction of
modern small volumes, stood in grand state in the centre of the choir,
and all placed themselves around and sang from the noble and precious
pages. There were relics, too, of the times when the Indians were in
their primitive condition, the child-like pupils of the patient
Franciscans. It was not much of a display, but its very meagreness made
it pathetic.

Our lay brother took us into the second enclosure; that is, within the
convent proper, where no women are admi