Six months in the gold mines

In this connexion, it may be well to state, that although California presents one of the finest fields in the world for mechanical and industrial pursuits, it is as yet an unpromising region for what are called “the learned professions;” and I would advise no more “of that ilk” to wend this way. The country is already overrun with young lawyers and doctors, who are too feeble physically to succeed as gold-diggers, and seek in vain for fees. Nearly all the law business done here is in the hands of a few prominent individuals, who are handsomely paid for what they do, but could readily transact ten times the amount of business that is ever placed in their hands. Public opinion is more stringent here than in the older states, and contracts are faithfully fulfilled, whether written or verbal, without evasion, under the technicalities or subtilties of the law. The medical profession is somewhat more in demand, but it is so crowded that few succeed, and most persons who come here to practise medicine, are compelled to resort to some other means of obtaining a livelihood. Hydropathy is the popular treatment, and a good bath is thought to be far more conducive to health than bleeding or calomel.

CHAPTER XIII.

THE OLD TOWNS OF CALIFORNIA.

The town of Monterey is situated upon the large bay of that name, formed by the curve of land between Point Año Nuevo on the north, and Point Pinos on the south. Until the adoption of the present constitution for California, Monterey was always the seat of government of the territory, and the residence of her military governors and other officers. The town presents a very neat and pretty appearance, with its houses of white-plastered adobes and its surrounding hills covered with lofty pine trees. It retains its old Spanish peculiarities, and Yankee innovations have as yet made but little progress there. The Spanish don, clothed in his serape and calcineros, still walks through the streets with his lordly air, and the pretty señorita, her dark eyes peering through the folds of her reboso, skips lightly along the footpath. The ancient customs are still continued here, and the sound of the guitar and the light shuffling of pretty feet are heard nightly in the casas. I saw here a few weeks since a funeral celebrated in the old style, which, although by no means new to me, exceedingly astonished some Yankee friends who had but just arrived. A procession of some hundred people, men, women, and children, were straggling along the street, preceded by six little girls, dressed in white, bearing upon their shoulders the coffin of an infant. Upon one side of this were two musicians, with a guitar and violin, playing such tunes as are heard at the country dances in the United States, while upon the other were two tall fellows with muskets, which they were continually loading and firing. By the sides of the procession was a troop of boys, all armed with Chinese fire-crackers, which they exploded by the pack, keeping up a most infernal racket. In this manner the procession marched to the church, where the coffin was opened, and the little body strewn with wild flowers. After some Catholic ceremony the body was committed to the grave, when the whole posse adjourned to the residence of the parents, where a grand fandango and feast were given, which lasted throughout the whole night.

About six miles from Monterey lie the mission and valley of Carmel, one of the prettiest spots in all Upper California, and one of the most favourable for agricultural pursuits; and twenty-five miles distant is the great valley of San Juan, ten miles in width, and thirty miles in length. This valley possesses a climate peculiar to itself, and a soil of exceeding richness. The winds from the ocean are mellowed before they reach here, and fall with a delicious coolness upon this beautiful vale. The agricultural products are principally corn, wheat, and potatoes, which are taken to Monterey and sold at good prices.

The bay of Monterey abounds in fish of every variety, but particularly mackerel, which can be caught in great quantities with a hook and line directly in the harbour. The town contains about one thousand inhabitants, and its climate is superior to that of any other locality on the coast, although during the summer a dense fog usually rises for a few hours in the morning. A fort has been built upon a hill overlooking the town and harbour, and a military force is stationed there. There are several American residents in Monterey at the present time, engaged in mercantile pursuits; but very little building is in progress, and the town bids fair to remain for a long time a representative of California as she was before the indomitable Yankee introduced his “notions” into her territory.

SANTA BARBARA.

South of Monterey is the town of Santa Barbara, a place celebrated for its being the residence of the aristocracy of California, as well as for its beautiful women. There is no harbour to the town, and vessels are obliged to lie at anchor in an open roadstead, often at many miles distant from the shore; and during the spring and fall, when the southeast winds prevail, they are scarcely safe lying here; a high surf is constantly running on the beach, and it is only by the greatest skill in “beaching” a boat that one can escape a severe ducking. The position of the town of Santa Barbara is one of the most beautiful in California. On the right, toward the water, is a lofty hill, rising nearly a thousand feet, from the summit of which the little town resembles one of those mud villages, which school-boys mould in clam-shells. Directly back of the town is a range of almost impassable hills, which run in a diagonal direction, and join the Coast Range at San Luis Obispo. In front is the broad bay, embraced between two points, and having a smooth beach of nearly thirty miles in extent. A mile back from the town, at the head of a gentle slope, is the mission of Santa Barbara, with its venerable white walls and cross-mounted spires.

The town itself is situated upon a plain of some ten miles in extent, and contains about one hundred and fifty houses, built of adobes, all one story in height. Most of these houses contain but two rooms, a large one called the sala, and a small chamber. These houses contain no stoves or fire-places, all the cooking operations of a family being performed in the cocina, which is a building separate from the main dwelling.

The people of Santa Barbara are kind and hospitable. I was stationed there three months, and scarcely a day elapsed that our mess-table did not exhibit some choice specimen of California cookery, made up by the hands of some fair señorita, as a present to “los officiales Americanos.” But here, as all over California, among the native population, laziness is the great characteristic of the people. A fine horse to ride, plenty of beef and frijoles to eat, and cigaros to smoke, and they are satisfied. The whole day with them is spent on horseback, in lazily riding from one tavern to another, or galloping furiously, at the risk of their necks, along the streets. The residents of Santa Barbara are principally rancheros, who visit their ranchos once or twice a year, to attend to the marking and killing of their cattle, and spend the remainder of the year in their town residence, enjoying life to their utmost capacity. Each ranchero usually keeps around the town a sufficient number of cattle for food, and whenever any beef is wanted, a bullock is slaughtered in a manner that would cause the eyes of the English societies for the suppression of cruelties to animals to stare aghast. The animal is first to be caught, which is effected in this manner. A vaquero or herdsman, mounted upon a fleet horse, and provided with a strong rope, with a noose at one end, and called a lasso, rides furiously into the herd of cattle, and selecting the one he wishes swings his lasso around his head, gives a loud yell, at the same time throwing the lasso and planting it over the horns and head of the vanquished bullock. So expert are they in the use of the lasso that they seldom fail at the first trial in catching an animal running at the distance of thirty or forty feet. The animal being captured, he is dragged into town, and being conducted within a corral, another lasso is thrown around his legs, which are thus tripped from under him, when a sharp knife is plunged into his throat.

The favourite amusement of the Californians is dancing, and Santa Barbara is more celebrated for its fandangos than any other town on the coast. These occur nearly every evening in the week, it being always easy to get up an impromptu ball in five minutes, by calling in a guitar or harp player. At these balls there is no exclusiveness, the high and low, rich and poor, all meet on perfect equality, and dance away their sorrows, if they have any, upon the same mud floor. No scented cards of invitation are sent to the favoured few, but all who choose enter and participate freely. At church and at fandangos Californians all find a level. It appears as natural for Californians to dance as to breathe or eat. Often have I seen little girls, scarce six years of age, flying through a cotillon, or circling in the giddy waltz, or dancing with great skill their favourite jotah or jarabe. The girls are all elegant waltzers, and will exhaust the strength of an ordinary American gentleman, who is content with a few turns round the ball-room and then a long promenade.

The town of Santa Barbara contains about five hundred inhabitants, among whom are the Norrigas and Carillos, the two great families of California. It is a beautiful place of residence, with a mild, springlike climate, and around it are some of the pleasantest rides in all California. About four miles distant is the little town of Montecito (little mountain), a collection of farm-houses, where large quantities of vegetables are grown. Three miles beyond this, in the heart of the mountains, is a remarkable hot sulphur spring, to which invalids resort for the purpose of bathing, and six miles in the opposite direction is an Indian village, containing some forty or fifty wigwams, whose tenants are an industrious agricultural people, who raise corn, wheat, and potatoes, and bring them into Santa Barbara for sale.

The mission of Santa Barbara is, at the present time, in a better condition than any other mission in the country. About fifty of the converted Indians still remain here and cultivate the soil. Around the old mission building are several extensive orchards, in which figs, apples, pears, and peaches are grown, and two or three vineyards, producing a grape from which excellent wine is made. The Padre Presidente, the presiding priest of California, resides here, the office at present devolving upon Padre Jesus Maria Gonzales, one of the kindest and most gentlemanly men I ever met with.

PUEBLO DE LOS ANGELOS.

One hundred and ten miles south of Santa Barbara is the Pueblo de los Angelos (City of the Angels), the garden spot of California. It is situated at the end of an immense plain, which extends from San Pedro, the port of the Pueblo, twenty-five miles distant, to this point. As in all California towns, the houses are built of adobe and are covered with an asphaltum, which is found in great quantities, issuing from the ground near the town. The northern portion of the town is laid out in streets, and appropriated as the residence of the trading citizens, while the southern part is made up of gardens, vineyards, and orchards. Through all these a large stream runs, which is used to irrigate the soil. The vineyards are lovely spots; acres upon acres of ground are covered with vines, which are trimmed every year, and thus kept about six feet in height, and in the fall of the year are hanging thick with clusters of grapes. In addition to these, apples, pears, peaches, plums, and figs are raised in great abundance. An American, named Wolfskill, has here a vineyard containing thirty thousand bearing grape-vines, from which he makes annually a thousand barrels of wine, and two or three hundred of aguardiente, the brandy of the country. Some of this wine is a very superior article, resembling in its flavour the best Madeira, while another kind, the vino tinto, is execrable stuff. With proper care and apparatus, however, the grape of the Pueblo could be made to yield as good wine as any in the world; and the whole plain, twenty-five miles in extent, reaching to the beach at San Pedro, is susceptible of the cultivation of the vine.

Until the late astonishing growth of San Francisco, the Pueblo was the largest town in California, containing about two thousand inhabitants, who are principally wealthy rancheros, and those who reside there to cultivate the grape. Game of many kinds abounds in the vicinity of the Pueblo. During the rainy season, the plains in the direction of San Pedro are covered with millions of geese and ducks, which are shot by the dozen, while the surrounding hills afford an abundance of quails, deer, elk, and antelope.

The inhabitants of the Pueblo are of the better and wealthier class of Californians, and have always been strongly disposed towards the institutions of Mexico, and at the time of the conquest of California, they fought with a determined resistance against the naval forces of Commodore Stockton. They have now, however, become reconciled to the institutions of our country, and will, I doubt not, in a few years make as good a set of democrats as can be found in Missouri or Arkansas. They are very strongly attached to the Roman Catholic Church, and are probably the most “religious,” in their acceptation of the term, of any people in California. Every morning the solemn toll of the church-bell calls them to mass; at noon it is rung again, and every Poblano at the sound doffs his sombrero, and remains reverently uncovered in the hot sun, while the bell reminds him that he is to mutter over a short prayer. In whatever avocation they may be engaged, whether fiddling, dancing, singing, slaughtering cattle, or playing billiards or montè, the custom is invariably followed. I have seen a party in a tavern in the Pueblo, busily engaged in betting against a montè bank, when the noonday bell tolled; a fellow, with his last dollar in the world placed upon a card, immediately doffed his hat and muttered his prayer; the dealer laid down his cards and did the same, and they continued in their humble positions till the bell ceased tolling, when the game and the swearing went on as busily as usual.

About ten miles from Los Angelos, is the mission of San Gabriel, located upon the river of that name, whose banks for miles are girdled with grape-vines. This is one of the prettiest spots in California, and affords a fine opportunity for the raising of fruit. The country around the Pueblo is by far the most favourable portion of southern California for the settlement of foreigners. Possessing a climate of unequalled mildness, and a soil of great fertility, it must inevitably, ere long, be surrounded by a large population.

SAN DIEGO.

The town of San Diego is the southernmost of Upper California, the boundary line established by the late treaty running one marine league south of it. The harbour here, next to that at San Francisco, is the best on the whole coast, perfectly land-locked, protected from the gales at all seasons of the year, and the entrance is so narrow that but one vessel can pass through at the same time. A vessel can lie within a cable’s length of the beach, which is of hard sand, and upon which no surf runs. The town itself lies three miles from the beach, is about the size of Santa Barbara, and is overlooked by an old Mexican fortress. San Diego has always been the greatest depot for hides upon the coast; the facilities for taking them from the shore to the vessel being greater than at any other point. The climate is mild and pleasant, and the town is rapidly growing, and bids fair to become of great commercial importance. An immense inland trade will be carried on from this place with the settlements that must arise on the Colorado and Gila rivers, and around the head of the Gulf of California. The country in its immediate vicinity is well adapted for grazing, and abounds in wild game.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE NEW TOWNS OF CALIFORNIA.

The town or city of Benicia, which in the king’s English means Venice, is situated in the straits of Carquinez, thirty-five miles from San Francisco, which it promises yet to rival in point of commercial importance. The ground upon which it is seated is a gentle slope descending to the water, and as it reaches it becoming almost a plain. There is sufficient water at its bank to enable vessels of the first class to lie at anchor there, and discharge their cargoes, and the harbour is safe and exempt from violent winds. Benicia contains already about a thousand inhabitants, including a garrison of soldiers, having been made the head-quarters of the Pacific division of the United States Army. The large deposits of quartermaster’s stores have been removed from San Francisco to Benicia, and a site has been selected by Commodore Jones for a navy-yard at this point. The town was originally laid out some three years since by Robert Semple and Thomas O. Larkin. Lots of fifty varas square are selling at from five hundred to two thousand dollars.

MARTINEZ.

The town of Martinez is also located on the straits of Carquinez, nearly opposite Benicia. The site of the town is pleasant, being upon a high bank, while the plain around it is well wooded. The proprietor is William M. Smith of San Francisco, who is making arrangements for building the town.

NEW YORK OF THE PACIFIC.

At the junction of the river San Joaquin and the bay of Suisun, lies New York of the Pacific. The town is seated on a broad and well-watered plain, covered with many groves of magnificent oaks, extending from the waters of the bay and the river San Joaquin to the hills some three miles back. So gradual is the slope that it seems a perfect level, viewed from the river’s bank; but standing at the base of the hills looking toward the water, the slope will be found to be perfect and regular to the water’s edge, where it terminates upon a fine sand-beach, from five to ten feet above the level of the highest tide. New York is beautifully laid out, with large reserves for churches, a university, and other public edifices, and is perhaps one of the most healthy points in the country, being free from fever and ague and the prevailing fevers usual on fresh-water rivers below and between the mining region and San Francisco. But the great advantage which New York of the Pacific possesses over other places above San Francisco is, that it is at the head of ship navigation, as two regular surveys, published by distinguished military and naval officers of Suisun Bay have demonstrated. Ships of the largest class can sail direct from the ocean to New York, where they will find a safe and convenient harbour, and where at this time are lying a number of merchant ships from differents parts of the Union, directly alongside the bank upon which they have discharged their cargoes.

New York is surrounded on all sides by the most fertile agricultural districts of Northern California. The Sacramento, San Joaquin, and San Jose valleys being tributary to this point which is as the centre of so many radii, while the entire land travel from San Jose and the Contra Costa, and indeed of all southern California, flows through this channel. The whole transportation to the rich placers of the Stanislaus, Mokelumne, Tuolumne, Merced, and Mariposa, as well as the famous mines of the Middle, North, and South Forks, Feather and Yuba rivers, must pass the new city. The great railroad, destined to connect the Pacific Ocean and the Mississippi River, will undoubtedly terminate at New York, as it is in a direct line with the only pass in the mountains through which a railroad can reach the waters which empty into the Bay of San Francisco. This is a fact well established by the most distinguished engineers. Through the enterprise of Col. J. D. Stevenson and Dr. William C. Parker, both of the New York regiment of volunteers, the first survey of the bay of Suisun and the adjacent waters was made. These gentlemen are the principal owners of New York.

SUISUN.

The city of “Suisun,” alluded to in the first chapter of this narrative under the cognomen of Hala-chum-muck, is laid out on the west bank of the Sacramento, at a distance of eighty miles from San Francisco, and is about half-way between San Francisco and Sacramento City. The town is seated on high ground, and is entirely free from the tule, a rush that grows upon the marshy banks of the river. It is beautifully laid out, with large reserves for churches, a university, and other public edifices, and the beauty of its climate and surrounding scenery will eventually make it a favourable and pleasant place of residence. The proprietors are Thomas Douglass and C. V. Grillespie. Lots are selling at from $250 to $800.

SUTTER.

The city of Sutter is beautifully located on the eastern bank of the Sacramento River, adjoining Sacramento City, and is perhaps the most eligible site for a commercial town in all Northern California. It is situated on the highest and healthiest ground on the whole river, the banks at this point not being subject to the annual overflow. The largest class of steamboats and all vessels navigating the Sacramento River, can lie and discharge their cargoes directly at its banks.

Sutter was originally laid out by Captain J. A. Sutter and others, but has not until recently been brought forward by its proprietors. It has, however, a thriving business population, and promises to become a city of the first size and importance. Excellent roads diverge from this point to the rich placers of the North, Middle, and South Forks, Bear River, Yuba, and Feather Rivers, and also to the mines of the San Joaquin. It is surrounded on all sides by a fine agricultural and well-wooded country, and will soon be the depot for the great northern mines. Its present proprietors are the Hon. John M’Dougal, Lieutenant-Governor of the State of California, and Captain J. A. Sutter.

VERNON.

Vernon is situated on the east bank of Feather River at the point of its confluence with the Sacramento, one of the most eligible positions for a town in the whole northern region of California. The banks of the river are high and not subject to overflow, and this point is said to be at the head of ship navigation on the Sacramento. The ground is a gentle slope, surrounded by a beautiful country. From the town of Vernon, good and well travelled roads diverge to the rich mineral regions of the North and Middle Forks, Bear Creek, Yuba and Feather Rivers, rendering the distance much less than by any other route. The town is growing rapidly, and promises to become a great depot for the trade of the above-mentioned mines. The proprietors are Franklin Bates, Elisha O. Crosby, and Samuel Norriss.

BOSTON.

The city of Boston is located on the northern bank of the American Fork, at its junction with the Sacramento River, about one hundred yards above the old Embarcadero, the site upon which Sacramento City now stands. It extends upon the banks of both rivers for several miles, and is destined to become a flourishing town. The banks of the Sacramento at this point are not subject to overflow, being more than twelve feet in many places above high water mark. The town is situated upon a broad and well-watered plain, covered with many groves of magnificent oaks, and the largest class of steamers, and all vessels navigating the Sacramento River can lie and discharge directly at its banks.

Boston has been surveyed by J. Halls, Esq., and Lieut. Ringgold, U. S. N., and is laid out in squares of two hundred and forty feet by three hundred and twenty feet, subdivided each into eight building lots eighty feet by one hundred and twenty feet, with large public squares, and reservations for school-houses, churches, and public buildings. One of the peculiar advantages of Boston is that, being located on the northern bank of the American Fork, it is not necessary in proceeding to the gold mines to cross that river, which is exceedingly high and rapid at some seasons of the year. The direct and most travelled road proceeds from this point to the rich placers of the Yuba, Feather River, Bear Creek, and the North, Middle, and South Forks of the American. The soil is of the richest description, the surrounding scenery highly picturesque, and the plains in the immediate vicinity are covered with wild game of every variety which California affords. The title to the land is indisputable, coming by warranty deed from Captain J. A. Sutter to Eleab Grimes, Hiram Grimes, and John Sinclair, bearing date August 10th, 1843. The present owner is Hiram Grimes, Esq. Lots are selling rapidly at from $200 to $1000 each, and before many months the city of Boston on the golden banks of the Rio Sacramento will rival its New England namesake in business and importance.

STOCKTON.

The town of Stockton is the great mart through which flows the whole transportation and travel to the placers of the Stanislaus, Mokelumne, Mariposa, Mercedes, Tuolumne, and King’s River, and the various dry diggings lying between them. Stockton is to the southern mines what Sacramento is to the northern. The town is located upon a slough, or rather a succession of sloughs, which contain the back waters formed by the junction of the Sacramento and San Joaquin rivers. It is about fifty miles from the mouth of the San Joaquin, and one hundred from San Francisco. The ground is high and does not overflow, and is the centre of the two great tracts of arable land which constitute the valleys of the rivers above named. Vessels drawing from nine to ten feet of water can proceed up the San Joaquin to Stockton, and discharge their cargoes on the bank.

The town of Stockton was laid out in the latter part of 1848 by Charles M. Weber, and has been growing rapidly since. Eight months ago there were but one frame building and a few tents, and now it is a town containing a population of nearly two thousand permanent residents, and a movable population of about a thousand more, on their way to and from the southern mines. Several large brigs and schooners are constantly lying at the banks, and two steamboats and a large number of launches are constantly running from San Francisco. Real estate has risen greatly in value within the past six months,—lots, which could have been purchased at that time for $300, being now worth from $3000 to $6000. A theatre has been established at Stockton, and the town promises ere long to be a large and populous city.

STANISLAUS.

This town is laid out on the north bank of the Stanislaus River, at its junction with the San Joaquin. The Stanislaus River is the first and largest tributary of the San Joaquin, and the river is navigable for ordinary-sized schooners and launches to this point, which, being nearer the southern mining region than Stockton, will doubtless become a great resort for miners and traders in that vicinity. The town was originally laid out by Samuel Brannan & Co.

SOUTH SAN FRANCISCO.

The city of South San Francisco is located on the bay, about two miles south of San Francisco, which it promises to rival at no very distant day. The depth of water at this point is the same as that in the harbour of San Francisco, and it is said that vessels are more securely protected from the wind. At many points in front of the town, vessels of the largest class can lie within a boat’s length of the shore. The land rises in a gentle slope, and is of a rich clayey soil, which effectually prevents dust during the prevalence of the customary winds on the bay. The surrounding scenery is delightful, and near the town is the rich and beautiful valley in which is located the old mission of Dolores. A stream of fine water, sufficient to supply all the shipping in the harbour, runs through the town, and the only practicable road from San Francisco to San Josè, Monterey, and the whole lower country, passes directly by it. South San Francisco, though it may never equal its northern namesake, will at least become, at no very distant day, what Brooklyn is to New York. The proprietors of South San Francisco are John Townsend and Corneille De Boom.

ALVESO.

The want of a great commercial town at the head of the great bay of San Francisco has been supplied by the location of Alveso. It is situated at the head of the bay, on the Guadalupe River, a stream running directly through the centre of the town, and navigable at all seasons of the year to vessels drawing twelve feet of water. The depot and business headquarters of the two finest valleys in California, the Santa Clara and the Pueblo, where everything required for their already numerous population must be received; convenient of access to the gold mines, and directly on the route between them and San Francisco; with a climate unequalled, even in Upper California; with pure water; free from inundations at all seasons; with mills which even now furnish lumber at one-third its price in San Francisco,—the town of Alveso must inevitably grow into importance. It has been carefully surveyed and laid out into lots; contracts have been made for the immediate erection of warehouses and dwellings, and a bridge is now being built across the Guadalupe River, connecting the two portions of the town. The proprietors are J. D. Koppe, Peter H. Burnett, and Charles B. Marvin, who will doubtless reap a rich harvest, the fruits of their judicious enterprise.

CHAPTER XV.

LOWER CALIFORNIA.

Lower California extends from Cape St. Lucas to a line running one marine league south of San Diego, being bounded on the west by the Pacific Ocean, and on the east by the gulf of California. I went to Lower California in the full anticipation of living a miserable life for the time it would be necessary for me to remain there. But how much was I surprised, on landing in La Paz, on the afternoon of July 21st, 1847, to find the prettiest town I had then seen in California. The streets were lined with willow trees, which, meeting overhead, formed an arch, affording a delicious shade at midday. The houses were all of adobe, plastered white, and thatched with the leaves of the palm-tree, and were most delightfully cool. The whole beach was lined with palms, date, fig, tamarind, and cocoanut trees, their delicious fruits hanging upon them in clusters.

The detachment of the 7th regiment of New York Volunteers, which was ordered to La Paz, consisted of two companies, “A” and “B,” under command of Lieut. Col. Henry S. Burton. When we arrived, we found that country in a quiet state; and although no American force had ever been stationed there, the inhabitants appeared very much pleased at our arrival, and manifested no hostility toward us. Our orders were to take possession of, and hold the country; and in accordance with these we landed, and pitched our camp in the plaza, previous to removing into a large barrack, which was not then quite completed. When our men were fairly barracked, the officers were allowed to live in rooms in the town, and select such places as they chose. I found a room in the house of Don Francisco Silva, a Portuguese, who had lived long in the country, and owned the finest vineyard and fruit-garden in the town. Here I lived in a style of Eastern luxuriance. Never before did I, and never shall I desire to enjoy life in greater perfection than I did there. My room was in the rear of the house, and fronting upon a garden filled with grape-vines, fig, orange, lime, banana, and pomegranate trees, loaded with fruit. I slept in a swinging cot, surrounded by a silken canopy, as a protection from mosquitoes; and often have I taken my cot, swung it before the limbs of a large fig-tree, and slept beneath that clear, unclouded sky, rocked to slumber by the delightful evening land-breeze. In the morning, before breakfast, I would pick from the limbs and eat a few dozens of ripe, fresh figs, by way of giving me an appetite. But the most delicious portion of this delicious life was the bathing. In the centre of the garden was a large stone reservoir, kept continually filled with water, and used for the purpose of irrigation. Into this I would jump at noon, and, standing upon the stony bottom, could gather big clusters of grapes, hanging upon an arbour that overspread the whole bath. Our military duties were so light that they never interfered with this pleasant mode of life, particularly as our commanding officer was not very strict in his enforcement of them, and the reveillé drum seldom disturbed my morning slumbers.

If an epicure wishes to enjoy life at a low rate, I advise him to go to Lower California. The Gulf affords every variety of fish, and all the tropical fruits grow in the greatest profusion. For several months we lived upon green turtle, caught directly in front of the town,—some of them weighed one hundred and fifty pounds, and were sold to us at twenty-five cents apiece. In addition to this, the shores afforded mussels and oysters in great plenty, and the soil produces every variety of vegetables. Among the fruits of Lower California is one which grows wild, and is peculiar to the country, called the petalla, the most delicious fruit I ever ate. It grows upon a kind of cactus tree, and somewhat resembles a prickly pear, being covered with a thorny rind, which, being taken off, exhibits a pulp of a rich red colour. The great peculiarity of this fruit is, that out of a hundred no two have the same flavour. One resembles in taste a strawberry; another, seems flavoured with winter-green; the next with peach, and so on through the whole range of cultivated fruits.

The climate of Lower California is equal to that of Italy or Persia. During the whole year, the thermometer never varies ten degrees, usually ranging from eighty to ninety degrees, except at noon, when it sometimes reaches one hundred. In the winter, no other than thin clothing is worn, and an overcoat is never needed. It is an eternal summer. Such gorgeous sunsets and clear star-lit skies, can be found in no other portion of the world. During my whole residence there, I never saw a cloud as large as my hand upon the sky, and a drop of rain never fell. There is no rainy season in Lower California; rain usually falls three or four times in the course of a year, but the necessity of it is almost superseded by the heavy dews which fall every night.

The healthiness of the country is remarkable. During our sojourn there of more than a year, no death from sickness occurred in our detachment of more than a hundred men, and but two deaths during the whole time in the town, which consisted of fifteen hundred inhabitants. An officer of our regiment who was stationed in Upper California, and who had been pronounced by his physicians to be in the last stage of pulmonary consumption, as a last resort went to Lower California. The result was, that in three months he completely regained his health, and I saw him a few days since a stout, hearty man.

The people of Lower California are a curious race of beings; isolated from their mother country and neglected by her, they have assumed a sort of independence of thought and action which I never found in Upper California; but a kinder-hearted, more hospitable class of people never lived. Their thatched houses are ever open for the reception of visiters, and a glass of wine and a paper cigar are always offered to any one who chooses to enter. The manner in which the people of La Paz live is peculiar. In the main street, the houses are built of adobe, whitewashed, with roofs principally of cane and palm-tree, laid flat and covered with the shell of the pearl oyster. Some of them are of more than one story in height. Some of the floors are laid with large square bricks, but by far the greater portion of them are of the native mud. In the interior arrangement, little attention is paid to decoration. A few camp-stools covered with leather, or a drum-shaped seat with a piece of raw hide drawn over it, a table, a bed, and an earthen jar filled with water, usually compose the furniture. The bed is usually very neat, with clean linen sheets and curtains, with red satin covered pillows. In the other parts of the town and on the outskirts, the houses are very small, some of them of adobe, others of reeds, plastered with mud, and others are nothing more than a parcel of dried bushes intertwined. These generally contain but one room, with no more furniture than a few seats, and sometimes a bed made of a dried hide tightly drawn across four posts. Here father, mother, daughters, and sons, all lie down promiscuously on a hide stretched upon the floor, or, more commonly still, outside in the open air, and sleep heads and points in most admirable confusion. Indeed, this sleeping out of doors is not confined to any particular class, but is practised by all during the summer months, and is really a delightful mode of passing the night. The men are generally tall and well-formed, and dress in the manner of Mexicans of the same class.

But the women, “Heaven’s last, best work,” how shall I describe them? They are found in Lower California of all shades, from the blackest ebony to the whitest lily. Where such a variety of colour could have arisen, I cannot imagine. Their dress is usually a skirt, merely reaching to the waist, while above this, is a white bodice which does not reach quite so high in the neck as is required by the strict rules of feminine modesty. They wear no hats or bonnets, but in lieu of them a reboso is thrown around their heads, and falls in graceful folds over their shoulders. Many of them go barefoot, and very few wear stockings, considering them an unnecessary luxury.

Simple as are these articles of dress, the La Paz girls delight as much as their more refined sisters in our northern cities in exhibiting themselves to advantage. I have seen a fair señorita on her way to church, as barefooted as the day she first trod the earth, carrying on her shoulders a beautiful silk reboso, which must have cost a hundred dollars. The ladies all indulge in the “amiable weakness” of smoking cigaritos, and the blue wreaths are curling about their dark faces from morning to night. The state of morals amongst them is as loose as their dress, and the poorer classes are sunk in the lowest state of prostitution. Cases have often occurred where the bargain for the daughter’s dishonour has previously been made with the mother. Strange as this may appear in a country upon which the light of Christianity has shone, and among a people professing to be Christian, it is, nevertheless, strictly true.

In fact the morals of the whole community, male and female, need improving. An old priest named Gabriel, who, at the time I was there, was Padre Presidente of Lower California, in open violation of his vows of chastity, was living in the family relation, and had been the means of bringing into the world no less than eleven children. One of these had taken his name, always travelled with him, and was himself studying for the priesthood. I witnessed a very amusing incident once with Gabriel, in which I bore a part, and which exhibits the peculiar state of morals among some of the priesthood of Mexican territory. Gabriel was a most inveterate gambler, and often amused himself, when on his parochial tours, by opening a game of montè for any of his parishioners who chose to bet against him, although he often found difficulty in obtaining a game, because, as the “knowing ones” said, “El padre sabe mucho.”

Soon after our arrival at La Paz, Gabriel, who resided in Todos Santos, came over to visit his flock in La Paz, and as we were then the lions of the place, he invited the officers to visit him at his temporary residence in the town. Soon after we entered, when he had brought out a bottle of good old wine, he very quietly took from a pocket in his cassock a pack of montè cards, and asked us if we had any objection to a quiet game. Out of courtesy we told him that we had no objection, and the padre commenced dealing and we betting.

After our amusement had been in progress about half an hour, during which time the padre had beaten us to the amount of a few dollars, the bell of the church tolled. The padre laid down his cards and said with perfect nonchalance: “Dispensarne Señores, tengo que bautizar un niño.” (Excuse me, gentlemen, I have a child to baptize.) He invited us to proceed to the church with him, and when we arrived, we found a woman with a child anxiously waiting in the doorway. When, however, the padre was ready to commence operations, it was found that there was no one present to stand in the capacity of compadre (godfather). Gabriel invited me to perform this service. I told him I was not a Catholic. “No le hace,” was his reply; and I accordingly stood at the baptismal font while the padre sprinkled the youngster and muttered over some Latin, after which, he turned to my companions and myself, and said, “Ahora, Señores, vamos a jugar otra verz.” (Now, gentlemen, we will go and play again); and we accordingly returned to the house and resumed the game. Gabriel was afterwards taken prisoner by our forces and sent to Mazatlan. He was one of the leading spirits in the revolution that afterwards occurred, and I doubt not that he came to La Paz, at the time of which I have spoken, to learn our force, and the probabilities of our being taken.

Among such a people, ignorant but kind, and in such a glorious climate, I passed my days in happiness and pleasure. When the shades of evening gathered around us, a little knot of us used to assemble beneath a spreading tamarind tree, and listen to songs in the enchanting Spanish, sung by a beautiful creature who had undertaken the task of teaching me her language, and in which, I flatter myself, she found an apt scholar. A ramble then upon the broad, hard beach, beneath that beautiful starlight, would close our evening’s pleasures, or a dance upon a greensward in a grove of fig-trees, prepare us for a sweet slumber.

Sometimes we took little excursions upon the broad and placid bay, and one of these, which extended to a visit to the Pearl Fishery, I will relate:

On a clear, beautiful, moonlit night, in the latter part of October, a party of three of us, in a little fishing-boat, stood out from the Bay of La Paz, to proceed to the Pearl Fishery of San Lorenzo, about twenty miles distant. We chose the night, for its coolness, and for the delicious land breeze which blew our little boat so rapidly over the water, and afforded so pleasing a contrast in feeling to the burning sun and stirless atmosphere of a tropical climate.

To one who has never been buoyed on the waters of the Gulf of California, no description can convey an accurate idea of its stillness and beauty, when, at the close of the long, sunny day, it is resting beneath the smile of the unclouded, starry sky, which is ever above it. Like a little inland lake in summer-time, unrippled and mirror-like, its waters were so clear that, even by moonlight, its shell-paved bottom was plainly discernible. Millions of little emerald-coloured gems of phosphorescent light, were floating over its bosom; and the track of the leaping porpoises and golden dolphins was followed by a stream of liquid fire.

As we neared “Pichelingo,” the entrance to the harbour, we observed on the beach, about a mile distant, a bright light, and as the land breeze was dying away, we made for it, thinking that probably a party of divers were there, on their way to the fishery. We stood in, and soon reached the light, which we found to be a fire built on shore. We landed, hauled up our boat, and found two tall, naked Indians, engaged in cooking their evening meal of pozzoli, or boiled corn: they were tortoise-shell fishers, and had with them a large quantity of these most beautiful shells. They invited us to participate in their frugal meal, but we had provisions of our own, and, roasting some salt pork on their fire and brewing a steaming hot punch, we ate and drank sufficiently, spread our blankets on the sand and lay down to sleep by the side of our Indian friends. At daylight a good breeze sprang up, and, thanking our Indians for their hospitality and presenting each with a small sum of money, we again made sail.

About 11 o’clock we rounded the low, sandy point, which forms one side of the entrance to the pretty little bay of San Lorenzo. We were received on the beach by about three hundred tall, black-looking Indians, prepared to start on their daily occupation of diving. Through the politeness of one of the “armadores,” or owners, six of the busos (divers) were placed in our boat, and we pushed off for the fishing-ground, near the shore of the huge rocky island of Espiritu Santo. Thirty canoes, filled with divers, started with us, and in half an hour we were on the ground. Here the water was the most beautifully clear I ever saw. It was some four or five fathoms in depth, but so transparent that the pearly treasures in its bed were as plain to our sight as though air only separated them from us. The divers divested themselves of every particle of clothing, with the exception of a girdle tightly bound round their loins, and armed with nothing but a sharp-pointed stick, about a foot in length, used for the double purpose of fighting sharks and digging up the shell, they commenced their labours. Starting up suddenly on the gunwale of the boat, and giving a shrill whistle, to expel the air from their lungs, with a dive as graceful as a dolphin’s leap, they plunged into the water, and made a straight course for the bottom. The dive itself carried them about two fathoms downward, and every subsequent stroke one fathom. Arrived at the bottom, they commenced digging up the shell, and each one soon returned to the surface with an armful, which he threw into the boat, and then would dive again for a fresh load, and so they continued for nearly three hours, with scarcely a moment’s intermission. Some brought up fish and sea-weed, others beautiful shells, and one fellow captured a small shark, which he threw into the boat, very much to the annoyance of us landsmen.

These divers are Indians from the Slake River, in the province of Sonora, who come every season to the coast of California to pursue their avocation. About three o’clock the whole fleet started for the shore, and, arrived there, each buso carried his pile of shell on the beach, and the crew of each boat, forming a circle, threw into its centre one-half of their shells. These were the property of the armador, and were first opened, and the pearls given to him. The old fellow stood by, watching the divers very closely, as some of them are exceedingly expert in suddenly swallowing any valuable pearl they may chance to find in the owner’s pile. The pearls are found in the body of the oyster, of all sizes, from that of a pin’s head to that of a walnut. Sometimes a hundred oysters are opened without finding a single pearl, while in others many are found. When the owner’s oysters are all opened, each diver commences on his own pile; and any valuable pearl he may find is usually sold to the armador on the spot, at about one-half its real value.

The pearl fisheries of Lower California have been carried on since the earliest discovery of the country, and immense fortunes have been made in them. There are at present about one hundred vessels yearly engaged in this business during the fishing season, which continues from May to November. The oysters are all taken by diving, no scientific apparatus having yet been successfully introduced. A diving-bell was tried by an English company some years ago, but this mode was soon abandoned, from some cause which I could never learn. The shells of the oysters are piled up on the beach, and sold to whalers and trading vessels that visit the coast.

The oysters being all opened, the divers take their first meal in the day, which consists of nothing more than a bowl of atole, a kind of water-gruel, with a little dried meat thrown into it. This, and the use of the boats, is all that is furnished by the armador, for which he receives one-half the pearls.

It was the last day of the fishing season, and before we left, as was always the custom, the little brush houses, temporarily thrown up on the beach, were fired by the divers, and a general jubilee held. We left them in the most glorious state of intoxication, and setting sail once more, after spending another night on the beach of Pichelingo, we arrived safely in La Paz the next day at noon.

The great resources of Lower California are its mines of silver, gold, copper, and iron, the former metal being most abundant. The whole mountain range, which extends along the coast, is one immense silver mine, equal in richness to those of Mexico or Peru. At the present time only three or four mines are wrought, owing to the lack of energy in the inhabitants, and the entire absence of scientific mining apparatus,—all the necessary labour being performed by men and mules. In making inquiries for a place to search for silver in Lower California, the old settlers in reply merely point their fingers to the mountain range, and say, “Por hay” (that way, anywhere there); and it is a fact, that a shaft may be sunk in any part of the mountains, and silver ore always extracted, varying in richness from fifteen to seventy per cent. of pure silver. The principal silver mines at present wrought are in San Antonio, half-way from La Paz to Cape St. Lucas. These are owned by the Hidalgos, who send annually out of the country about two hundred thousand dollars worth of plata pina.

Near Loretto are large and extensive copper mines; lead and iron are found everywhere, and gold-washings have always been wrought in the country with considerable success. If this territory ever becomes settled by an energetic population, millions of wealth will be annually gathered in its borders, and it will stand side by side in point of riches with the countries that have already made themselves famous by the wealth lying in their bosoms.

As an agricultural country Lower California is rather deficient, although there are many watered valleys which produce in great profusion all the common culinary vegetables, and wherever the soil can be irrigated, it produces all the tropical fruits and the vegetables of the temperate zones in great luxuriance. Cotton of the finest staple grows wild upon the plains around La Paz, and cane, from which a very good article of sugar is made, grows all over the land. Wine is made from the grape of the country, which is of the most delicious kind.

When we went to Lower California, our orders were to assure the inhabitants that their country was to be retained as a portion of the territory of the United States. The message of President Polk and the proclamation of Commodore Shubrick supported this idea, and upon the representations thus made, the most influential inhabitants committed themselves to the American cause, and were exceedingly gratified with the expected result. In the month of November, we were attacked by a Mexican force of six hundred, under command of Don Manuel Pineda, a captain in the Mexican army, who published a long proclamation threatening death and destruction to the Californians who supported our cause. Notwithstanding this, during a severe and trying siege, which lasted six weeks, many of the rancheros from the interior came in and joined us, and for this whole time a company of native Californians, under the command of the former governor of the territory, Don Francisco Palacèo, fought bravely with us and rendered us essential service, with the expectation that at the close of the war they would be protected by us. But what was their consternation when, upon the reception of the news of the treaty of peace, it was found that they had been forgotten, and that after the promises which had been made, we were obliged to desert them and leave them to the voracity of their Mexican masters, by whom they are now of course viewed in the light of traitors to their country.

Never in the history of wars among civilized nations was there a greater piece of injustice committed, and the United States government deserves for it the imprecations of all who have a sense of justice remaining in them. The probability is, that some ignorant scribbler, who had cast his eyes upon the rugged rocks that girdle her sea-coast, had represented Lower California as a worthless country, and that, forgetting justice and good faith, our government left this compromised people to suffer at the hands of their own brethren. The result was that many of them were obliged to fly from their country and go to Upper California, their property was confiscated and they can never return to their homes but with the brand of traitors resting upon them.

It is the duty of our government to repair if possible the wrong thus done. Lower California must at some time inevitably be a territory of the United States. It is a peculiarity of the Yankee race that, like the western farmer, they only want to possess “all the land that joins them;” and this country, isolated as it is from Mexico, inhabited by a people who heartily hate the institutions of their mother country, neglected by her, and lying in such close contiguity to our possessions on the Pacific coast, must fall into our hands, and, instead of being a worthless territory, we should find it our greatest acquisition on the Pacific. The gulf of California is one of the finest sheets of water in the world, and the inner coast is indented with many safe and land-locked harbours. The bay of La Paz is safe and large, and the establishment of a naval depot at this point would keep in check the whole western coast of Mexico. Mexico does not desire this territory, and no people were ever more anxious for a separation from the mother country than are the inhabitants of Lower California. It would be an easy purchase, and if necessary an easy conquest, and unless it is done by the general government, a second Texas affair will occur there before many years pass. When Upper California becomes more thickly populated, and the progress westward is stopped by the surges of the Pacific, the northern territory of Oregon being already ours, the progress must inevitably be southward, and even now ideas are entertained of seizing the country.

In order to prevent the disastrous consequences which must ensue from a re-enaction of the Texas tragedies, and to render justice to a people whose confidence has been abused by our government, I would respectfully recommend to the home government the immediate commencement of negotiations for the purchase of this valuable and interesting territory. The appointment of commissioners to report upon its resources and its value in a naval point of view, would be speedily followed by its purchase, and thus would be prevented the piratical expeditions for the seizure of the country which otherwise will soon be undertaken.

THE END.