Monday, Aug. 17. A complaint was lodged in my court this morning, involving the perplexities of a love-matter. The complainant is a Californian mother, who has a daughter rather remarkable for her personal attractions. She has two rival suitors, both anxious to marry her, and each, of course, extremely jealous of the attentions of the other, and anxious to outdo him in the fervency and force of his own assiduities. The family are consequently annoyed, and desire the court to interfere in some way for their repose. I issued an order that neither of the rival suitors should enter the house of the complainant, unless invited by her, till the girl had made up her mind which she would marry; for it appeared she was very much perplexed, being equally pleased with both: and now, I suppose, roses and all the other silent tokens of affection will pass plenty as protestations before.
“The course of true love never did run smooth.”
Tuesday, Aug. 18. The ado made to reach the hand of the undecided girl shows how very rare such specimens of beauty are in these parts. She has nothing to recommend her as a sober, industrious, frugal housekeeper. She knows how to dance, to play on the guitar and sing, and that is all. She would be as much lost in the kitchen as a dolphin on dry land. She would do to dress flowers in the balcony of a millionaire, but as the wife of a Californian, her children would go without a stocking, and her husband without a shirt. Her two suitors own, probably, the apparel which they have on and the gay horses which they ride, but neither of them has a real in his pocket. Yet they are quite ready to be married: just as if the honey-moon had a horn of plenty instead of a little urn of soft light, which gushes for a few brief nights, and then leaves its devotee like one of the foolish virgins, whose lamp had gone out!
Wednesday, Aug. 19. Several of Gen. Castro’s officers have just arrived in town, delivered themselves up, and been put upon parole. They state that the general’s camp, near the Pueblo de los Angeles, broke up a few days since in the night; that the general and Gov. Pico had started for Sonora with fifty men and two hundred horses; that their flight was hastened by the approach of Com. Stockton, with the forces of the Congress, on the north, and Maj. Fremont, with his riflemen, on the south. The commodore had reached, it appears, within a few hours’ march of his camp. The general had taken the precaution to send forward in advance a portion of his horses, to serve as fresh relays on his arrival. He expects to leave Col. Fremont on the right, and will be obliged to cross an immense sandy plain, lying between the Pueblo and Red River, where his horses will be for two days without water or food. He is to cross Red River, a broad and rapid stream, on a raft, the construction of which will detain him a day; his horses will swim, for California horses are trained to rush over mountain-torrents. The only hope of his capture lies in his detention at the river, unless Col. Fremont, anticipating his flight, has thrown a force south to intercept him. Once across the river he is safe; nothing but a tornado, or a far-striking thunder-bolt, can overtake a Californian on horseback.
Thursday, Aug. 20. An Indian was brought before me to-day, charged with having stolen a horse. He was on his way, it appears, to Monterey, and when within thirty miles, his own horse having given out, he turned him adrift, and lassoed one belonging to another man, which he rode in, and then set him at liberty as he had his own. The owner arrived soon after, recovered his horse, and had the Indian arrested, who confessed the whole affair, and only plead in excuse that his own horse had become too tired to go further. I sentenced the Indian to three months’ labor on the public works. He seemed at first very much surprised at what he considered the severity of the sentence; but said he should work his time out faithfully, and give me no further trouble. As he was half naked, I ordered him comfortable apparel, and then delivered him over to Capt. Mervin, to be employed in excavating a trench around the newly-erected fort.
Friday, Aug. 21. A Californian is most at home in his saddle; there he has some claims to originality, if not in character then in costume. His hat, with its conical crown and broad rim, throws back the sun’s rays from its dark, glazed surface. It is fastened on by a band which passes under his chin, and rests on a red handkerchief, which turbans his head, from beneath which his black locks flow out upon the wind.
The collar of his linen rolls over that of his blue spencer, which is open under the chin, is fitted closely to his waist, and often ornamented with double rows of buttons and silk braid. His trowsers, which are fastened around his loins by a red sash, are open to the knee, to which his buckskin leggins ascend over his white cotton drawers. His buckskin shoes are armed with heavy spurs, which have a shaft some ten inches long, at the end of which is a roller, which bristles out into six points, three inches long, against which steel plates rattle with a quick, sharp sound.
His feet rest in stirrups of wood, carved from the solid oak, and which are extremely strong and heavy. His saddle rises high fore and aft, and is broadly skirted with leather, which is stamped into figures, through the interstices of which red and green silk flash out with gay effect. The reins of his bridle are thick and narrow, and the head-stall is profusely ornamented with silver plate. His horse, with his long flowing mane, arching neck, broad chest, full flanks, and slender legs, is full of fire. He seldom trots, and will gallop all day without seeming to be weary. On his back is the Californian’s home. Leave him this home, and you may have the rest of the world.
Saturday, Aug. 22. Our little paper, the Californian, made its appearance again to-day. Many subscribers have sent in their names since our last, and all have paid in advance. It is not larger than a sheet of foolscap; but this foolscap parallel stops, I hope, with the shape. Be this as it may, its appearance is looked for with as much interest as was the arrival of the mail by the New Yorkers and Bostonians in those days when a moon waxed and waned over its transit.
Sunday, Aug. 23. Officiated to-day on board the Savannah. There is no Protestant church here. Emigrants have generally become Roman Catholics. Policy, rather than persuasion or conviction, suggested it. Men who make no pretensions to religion, have nothing to give up in the shape of creeds or conscientious scruples. They are like driftwood, which runs into the eddy which is the strongest; or like migratory birds, which light where they can find the best picking and the softest repose. The woodpecker never taps an undecayed tree; and a worldling seldom embraces a thoroughly sound faith.