The account of the close of the Convention is sufficiently amusing.  The members met and adjourned, after a brief session, and their hall was immediately cleared of forum, seats, and tables, and decorated with pine boughs and oak garlands.  At eight in the evening, it was thrown open for a ball.  Sixty or seventy ladies, and as many gentlemen, were present.  Dark-eyed daughters of Monterey and Los Angelos and Santa Barbara, with Indian and Spanish complexions, contrasted with the fairer bloom of belles from the Atlantic side of the Nevada.  There was as great a variety of costume as of complexion.  Several American officers were there in their uniform.  In one group might be seen Captain Sutter’s soldierly moustache and clear blue eye; in another, the erect figure and quiet, dignified bearing of Vallejo.  Don Pablo de la Guerra, with his handsome aristocratic features, was the floor manager, and gallantly discharged his office.  Conspicuous among the native members, were Don Miguel Pedrorena and Jacinto Rodriguez, both polished and popular gentlemen.  Dominguez. the Indian, took no part in the dance, but evidently enjoyed the scene as much as any one present.  The most interesting figure was that of the Padre Ramirez, who, in his clerical cassock, looked until a late hour.  “If the strongest advocate of priestly decorum had been present,” says our author, “he could not have found it in his heart to grudge the good old padre the pleasure which beamed in his honest countenance.”

The next day the Convention met for the last time.  The parchment sheet, with the engrossed Constitution, was laid upon the table, and the members commenced affixing their names.  Then the American colors were run up the flagstaff in front of the Hall, and the guns of the fort responded to the signal.  The great work was done.  California, so far as it depended on herself, was a State of the great Confederacy.  All were excited.  Captain Sutter leaped up from his seat, and swung his arm over his head.  “Gentlemen!” he cried, “this is the happiest hour of my life.  It makes me glad to hear the cannon.  This is a great day for California!” Recollecting himself, he sat down, the tears streaming from his eyes.  His brother members cheered.  As the signing went on, gun followed gun from the fort.  At last the thirty-first was echoed back from the hills.  “That’s for California!” shouted a member, and three times three cheers were given by the members.  An English vessel caught the enthusiasm, and sent to the breeze the American flag from her mast-head.  The day was beautiful; all faces looked bright and happy under the glorious sunset, “Were I a believer in omens,” writes our tourist on the spot, “I would augur from the tranquil beauty of the evening—­from the clear sky and sunset hues of the bay—­more than all, from the joyous expression of every face—­a glorious and happy career for the ‘STATE OF CALIFORNIA!’”