Sunday, Sept. 27. There is no day in the week in which my feelings run homeward so strongly as on the Sabbath. That day makes me feel indeed as an exile. A vast moral desolation spreads around me: only here and there a speck of verdure sprinkles the mighty waste. All else is bleak and barren. You turn your eyes to the hills where you were born, the church where you were baptized, and would rush back to them on the steep wave of time.
Monday, Sept. 28. When Monterey was taken by our squadron, an order was issued by the commander-in-chief that all the grog-shops should be closed. The object of this was to prevent disorder among the populace and among the sailors, whose duties as a patrol confined them to the shore. It was with great difficulty that this order could be enforced. All moderate fines failed to secure its observance. The price of aguardiente rose to four and five dollars the bottle, more than ten times its original cost: for such a premium the shopkeeper would run the hazard of the penalty.
We searched for it as for hid treasures, but only in one instance found its hiding-place. This was in a chimney, hanging about midway from the top. When discovered, the shopkeeper laughed as loudly as they who made the search. He was fined, not for having grog in his chimney, for that is a very good place for it, but for retailing it at his counter. An offer of four or five dollars from a customer never failed to bring down a bottle. He paid his fine of twenty-five dollars, but begged hard for the liquor. I took it into my custody, and told him to call for it when the last American man-of-war had left port.
Tuesday, Sept. 29. A brother and sister of a Mexican family applied to me to-day for permission to leave their mother. On inquiring the cause of this singular request, they stated that their father was dead, and that their mother by her immoralities had brought sore discredit on their house. I ascertained from other sources the truth of their statement, and then gave them permission to rent another dwelling. They were both modest and genteel in their appearance, but jealousy of a sister’s fair reputation had prevailed with the brother over filial affection. And yet when he spoke of his mother his eyes filled with tears.
Wednesday, Sept. 30. An express arrived last night from the Pueblo below, bringing the startling intelligence that the populace had risen upon the small American force left there under command of Capt. Gillespie—that the insurgents had entire possession of the town—that the Americans were closely besieged in their quarters, and it was doubtful if they would be able to hold out much longer. The express stated that he left the town under a volley of musketry, which he narrowly escaped, but which took such deadly effect on his horse, that he dropped under him about two leagues out.
He had a permit from the American alcalde to press horses wherever found. He rode the whole distance—four hundred and sixty miles—in fifty-two hours, during which time he had not slept. His intelligence was for Com. Stockton, and in the nature of the case was not committed to paper, except a few words over the signature of the alcalde, rolled in a cigar, which was fastened in his hair. But the commodore had sailed for San Francisco, and it was necessary he should go on a hundred and forty miles further. He was quite exhausted; I ordered him a bowl of strong coffee, which revived him, and a hearty supper, which he eagerly devoured. He was allowed to sleep three hours: in the mean time I procured fresh horses, and penned a permit for him to press others when these should begin to flag. Before the day glimmered he was up and away.
Thursday, Oct. 1. Com. Stockton, before the departure of the Congress, appointed T. H. Green, Esq., collector of customs at this port. Mr. G. is a native of Pennsylvania, has resided in this country several years, and enjoys a wide reputation for business habits, and sterling integrity of character. Mr. Hartwell, an Englishman by birth, has been appointed inspector and translator. He is familiar with all the languages spoken in California, and filled the same office under the Mexican government to which he has been appointed under this. But we are gratified with his appointment for another reason. He has some twenty children of his own, and in addition to these, five adopted orphans.
Friday, Oct. 2. A Spaniard of some note and noise here, and consul of her Christian Majesty, attempted in court to-day to flourish down the claim of an humble Californian to whom he was indebted some eight hundred dollars. He said this creditor was once his servant, that he could neither read nor write, and that he felt quite indignant that he should have the assurance to bring him into court. I told him the first question was, whether he really owed the man the amount claimed: this being settled, we could very easily dispose of the belles-lettres part of the matter. He at first recollected nothing, except that the man had once been his servant; but on being shown the account, reluctantly admitted that it might be correct. I told him, if correct, and he had the means, he must pay it, though the creditor were fresh from Congo. Finding that we had in our court only a horizontal justice, holding its level line alike over kings and slaves, he signed an obligation for the payment in six months, and gave the security required. So much for attempting to liquidate a debt by an hidalgo flourish. Law which fails to protect the humble, disgraces the name which it bears.
Saturday, Oct. 3. A heavy mist hung over the landscape this morning till the sun was high in the heavens, and many began to predict rain, a phenomenon which I have not yet witnessed in California. But towards noon the mist departed like a shadow dissolved in light. The scorched hills lifted their naked summits, and the deep ravines revealed their irregular lines of lingering verdure. In these the cattle still graze, though the streams which once poured their waters through them exist now only in little motionless pools, hardly sufficient to drift a duck. A stranger looking at these hills might be excused if he inquired the distance to Sodom. It would never enter his most vagrant dreams that he had reached that land towards which the tide of emigration was rolling over the cliffs of the Rocky Mountains.
Sunday, Oct. 4. The presiding priest of this jurisdiction applied to me a few days since to protect the property of the San Antonio Mission. A Spaniard, it seems, who owns a neighboring rancho, had, under color of some authority of the late administration, extended his claims over the grounds and buildings, and was appropriating the whole to his private purposes. I summoned the Spaniard before me, and asked for the evidence of his right and title to the establishment. He had no document to exhibit. His sole claim evidently rested in some vague permission, in which the lines of moral justice were wholly omitted, or too faintly drawn to be seen.