Santa Barbara was nothing but a collection of fifty or sixty adobe houses, with a larger structure called (I could never understand why) the Fort, in which the Mexican commandant of the place made his residence. The coast range of the Rocky Mountains comes down close to the water here and, back of the town, we could see lofty peaks uplift themselves grandly (though not so lofty as in the case of Valparaiso), some of them covered with perpetual snow. But their lower slopes are fertile and sunny, and the natives had done a good deal in the raising of vineyards upon them--terracing the steeps to prevent the soil from washing down by the rains or the melting of the snows above. Ships very seldom made a port of entry of Santa Barbara in those days, and the arrival of the Queer Fish was quite an event among the inhabitants, who treated us with uniform kindness. As with the other inhabitants of Spanish America, hospitality is a ruling and virtuous feature of the poor, ignorant Mexicans. Long after the time I speak of, I traveled much among them, and was ever received with the open arms of hospitable friendliness by even the most ignorant and indigent among them. We got excellent water at this place, as well as plenty of grapes and other fruit. As we remained here several weeks, we had many adventures on shore. One of the most interesting of these occurred shortly after our coming to an anchorage. Old Bluefish and myself had obtained permission for a day on shore to enjoy ourselves hunting, and having each of us procured an excellent mustang, set off at a brisk pace in the early morning. We were not long in getting through the mountains--wherein we saw several grizzlies which were too far off to be attacked--and soon emerged from the defiles upon the level plains that lie to the westward. We halted for refreshments at a little town called San Fernandino, if I remember rightly, and then proceeded on our way, through a colony of marmots or prairie-dogs, intending or hoping to kill some antelope farther on. We had a first-rate day's sport, considering that we were sailors. We killed three antelope and about a dozen of the large hares, which have since won the name of jackass-rabbits. The name is not altogether inappropriate--so far as it applies to the animal's ears, which are of extraordinary length and size. The animals themselves are of the hare species. They do not jump as a rabbit, but run as a fox, and with surprising swiftness withal. They are very large, much larger than the English hare, and are excellent eating. It was growing late in the afternoon when we concluded to relinquish our hunt, and return homeward. So we slung our game across the necks of our steeds, and proceeded westward, over the faintly-distinguished trail whereby we had come. We had not traveled many miles before we witnessed a singular and novel sight.