female eye would ever rest. A little life, however, was still visible
about this Santa Barbara Mission. Two brown-robed monks were hoeing
in the field; occasionally, visitors came and went; and, just as I
was leaving, one of the priests, in obedience to a summons, hurried
away to minister to the sick; yet over all there hung an atmosphere
of unreality and sadness. I felt myself the guest of an anachronism.

[Illustration: DREAMING OF OTHER DAYS.]

A fashionable city has risen at the feet of these old monks, but they
regard it not. A trolley car brings curious tourists to their doors;
but the ways of the Santa Barbara Fathers are those of long ago. Like
agèd pilgrims, dreaming by their firesides, they seem to be living in
the past; they certainly have no present worthy of the name; and when
I sought to draw forth from my priestly guide some idea of their
future, he answered me by pointing to a grave.

[Illustration]




GRAND CAÑON OF THE COLORADO RIVER




[Illustration]

While the Old World is better able than the New to satisfy the