Saturday, Jan. 16. The depredations complained of by those who took up arms in the neighborhood of San Francisco, were committed by some of the volunteers, previous to their joining Col. Fremont on his present campaign. They are a class of persons who have drifted over the mountains into this country from the borders of some of our western states. It is a prime feature in their policy to keep in advance of law and order, and to migrate as often as these trench on their irresponsible privileges. Their connection with our military operations here is a calamity that can only find a relief in the exigencies of war.
Were their lawless proceedings directed against those who are active participators in this revolution, the evils which they inflict would have some palliation. But the principal sufferers are men who have remained quietly on their farms, and whom we are bound in honor, as well as sound policy, to protect. To permit such men to be plundered under the filched authority of our flag is a national reproach. No temporary triumph can redeem the injuries inflicted, or obliterate their stain. But the rash acts committed by one portion of the Californians, and the wrongs endured by another, are fast drawing to a close.
Sunday, Jan. 17. As I was passing this morning one of the little huts sprinkled around the skirts of Monterey, my steps were arrested by the low moans which issued from its narrow door. On entering, I found on a straw pallet a mother whom disease had wasted to a mere shadow, but whose sufferings were now nearly over. She did not notice my entrance, or any thing around; her eyes were lifted, fixed, and glassed in death. A slight motion drew my attention to another corner of the hut, where I discovered, in the dim twilight of the place, a little boy lying on a mat, whom I supposed asleep; his young sister was near him, and trying to cross his hands on his breast. She did not seem to notice me, spake not a word, but went on with her baffled task, for the hand which she had adjusted would roll off while she was attempting to recover the other. Now and then she stopped for a moment and kissed the lips which could return none, while her tears fell silently on the face of her dead brother. In a few minutes two women entered, who, it seems, had gone out to call their clergyman to administer the last rites to the mother. He was too late: her spirit had fled. He spoke to her, called her by name—but there was no answer; he turned to the little boy, whispered Raphael, but all was silent and still. Directing the women where to procure grave-clothes at the expense of the alcalde’s office, I wended my way home. How little heeds the great stream of life the silent rivulets of sorrow which mingle with its noisy tide!
Monday, Jan. 18. It is deeply to be regretted that the military operations in California should prevent, at this time, an experimental proof of the fertility of her soil. The rain that has already fallen is so abundant, that all the arable land will retain its moisture sufficiently to enable the crops to come to maturity. But this war has broken up every agricultural arrangement, and defeated every possibility of a generous harvest. The calamity will be felt most severely by the emigrants. They arrive here with very slender means; and the idea of paying twenty dollars a barrel for flour covers them with dismay. Instead of having reached a land of plenty, they hastily conclude that they are to suffer the miseries of destitution, and yield to a despondency deeper than that which shook the faith of the Israelites before their wants were miraculously supplied. But there is no manna here, and no quails, except those which are secured by the hunter’s skill. The day of miracles is over, even in California.
Tuesday, Jan. 19. One of my boys caught a dove, a few days since, clipped his wing, and placed him in our yard, which has a high wall around it. He looked very lonely at first, but his mate soon came, hovered around on the wall, and finally preferring captivity with him to freedom without, flew down to his side. How beautiful is that affection which never forsakes in adversity, but becomes deeper and stronger as the waves of affliction roll higher over the object of its sympathy and trust!
Wednesday, Jan. 20. There is one feature in our military operations here which is far asunder from that system of order which appertains to a well-disciplined army. Every one who can raise among the emigrants thirty or forty men, becomes a captain, and starts off to fight pretty much on his own hook. Nor is he very scrupulous as to the mode in which he obtains his horses, saddles, and other equipments. He takes them wherever he can find them, and very often without leaving behind the slightest evidence by which the owner can recover the value of his property. He plunders the Californian to procure the means of fighting him. Public exigency is the plea which is made to cover all the culpable features in the transaction. This may justify, perhaps, taking the property, but it never can excuse the refusal or neglect to give receipts. It is due to Com. Stockton and Col. Fremont to say, that this has been done without their sanction. Still, it reflects reproach on our cause, and is a source of vast irritation in the community. No man who has any possible means of redress left will tamely submit to such outrages; and yet we expect the Californians to hug this chain of degradation, and help to rivet its links. Let foreigners land on our own coast, and do among us what Americans have done here, and every farmer, in the absence of a musket, would shoulder his pitchfork and flail. Human nature is the same here as there, and a sense of wrong will burn as deeply in the one place as the other. I utter, for one, my note of remonstrance, though it be as little heeded as the whispers of a leaf in the roar of a storm-swept forest.
Thursday, Jan. 21. The scarcity of provisions in Monterey continues. Flour is twenty-five dollars the barrel, and there is hardly a barrel in the place at that. We have in our garrison about a hundred and fifty men, and all are on a short allowance of bread. There is wheat in the interior, but the mules which should be there to grind it have gone to the wars. Even that sorry animal seems here not wholly insensible to military glory. The trump of fame finds an echo even in his long ears.
Friday, Jan. 22. The flag on the fort informed us this afternoon of the approach of a ship within the rim of our bay. As she neared, the signals on the Dale told her to be an American man-of-war. We conjectured at once that she must be the Congress; but as she rounded into her berth we could not recognize, in her majestic form, the features of our old friend. She proved to be the Independence, commanded by Capt. Lavelette, and bearing the broad pennant of Com. Shubrick. She sailed from the U. States on the twenty-ninth of August, and arrived at Rio de Janeiro in fifty-three days; remained there ten days; doubled the Cape and reached Valparaiso in thirty-four days; stopped there seven, and reached here in thirty-eight. This is splendid sailing; but the Independence is one of the fastest, as well as one of the most powerful ships in our service. Though razeed of her carronades, all her effective force remains. Her battery is a frowning mass of thunder. Her officers are men of enterprise and professional merit. They have brought a mail, well filled with letters and papers, from the United States. If you would know the value of a single letter, let an ocean roll between you and your home.
Saturday, Jan. 23. The Independence left the Columbus at Valparaiso, under the broad pennant of Com. Biddle, who has instructions to favor us here with a visit. The Columbus was in want of supplies, and would be detained several days in procuring them. She had better lay in all she will require, for there is nothing here. Unless a transport arrives soon, there will not be salt provisions enough on the coast to enable our squadron to go to sea two weeks. There has not been a transport here for six months; our sailors have been living on fresh meat till they hanker for the salt more than they ever did for the fresh. As for clothing, they can hardly muster a shirt a piece, and one pair of shoes among half a dozen is becoming rather a rare sight. This is a hard case, when our markets at home are glutted with these articles. The sailor is required to be faithful to the government, and the government should be faithful to him. He should not be left here barefooted to patter about like a duck in shallow water. It is well for him that it is a California winter through which he is obliged to pass in his destitution; in the same latitude on the Atlantic he would nearly have perished.
Sunday, Jan. 24. It is difficult to make the Californians understand why you will not attend to office duties on the Sabbath. The apology that you want it as a day of recreation, would be appreciated; but the plea of its sanctity is with many wholly unintelligible. If you would make a person respect the Sabbath, you must rear him in its sacred observance.