other is high, bold, and well wooded, and has a mission upon it, called Santa Buenaventura, from which the point is named.  In the middle of this crescent, directly opposite the anchoring ground, lie the Mission and town of Santa Barbara, on a low plain, but little above the level of the sea, covered with grass, though entirely without trees, and surrounded on three sides by an amphitheatre of mountains, which slant off to the distance of fifteen or twenty miles.  The Mission stands a little back of the town, and is a large building, or rather collection of buildings, in the centre of which is a high tower, with a belfry of five bells.  The whole, being plastered, makes quite a show at a distance, and is the mark by which vessels come to anchor.  The town lies a little nearer to the beach,—­ about half a mile from it,—­ and is composed of one-story houses built of sun-baked clay, or adobe, some of them whitewashed, with red tiles on the roofs.  I should judge that there were about a hundred of them; and in the midst of them stands the Presidio, or fort, built of the same materials, and apparently but little stronger.  The town is finely situated, with a bay in front, and an amphitheatre of hills behind.  The only thing which diminishes its beauty is, that the hills have no large trees upon them, they having been all burnt by a great fire which swept them off about a dozen years ago, and they had not yet grown again.  The fire was described to me by an inhabitant, as having been a very terrible and magnificent sight.  The air of the whole valley was so heated that the people were obliged to leave the town and take up their quarters for several days upon the beach.

Just before sundown, the mate ordered a boat’s crew ashore, and I went as one of the number.  We passed under the stern of the English brig, and had a long pull ashore.  I shall never forget the impression which our first landing on the beach of California made upon me.  The sun had just gone down; it was getting dusky; the damp night-wind was beginning to blow, and the heavy swell of the Pacific was setting in, and breaking in loud and high ``combers’’ upon the beach.  We lay on our oars in the swell, just outside of the surf, waiting for a good chance to run in, when a boat, which had put off from the Ayacucho, came alongside of us, with a crew of dusky Sandwich-Islanders, talking and hallooing in their outlandish tongue.  They knew that we were novices in this kind of boating, and waited to see us go in.  The second mate, however, who steered our boat, determined to have the advantage of their experience, and would not go in first.  Finding, at length, how matters stood, they gave a shout, and taking advantage of a great comber which came swelling in, rearing its head, and lifting up the sterns of our boats nearly perpendicular, and again dropping them in the trough, they gave three or four long and strong pulls, and went in on top of the great wave, throwing their oars overboard,