From the 21st of September to the 13th of October I remained at San Francisco.  The weather during this period was uniformly clear.  The climate of San Francisco is peculiar and local, from its position.  During the summer and autumnal months, the wind on this coast blows from the west and northwest, directly from the ocean.  The mornings here are usually calm and pleasantly warm.  About twelve o’clock M., the wind blows strong from the ocean, through the entrance of the bay, rendering the temperature cool enough for woollen clothing in midsummer.  About sunset the wind dies away, and the evenings and nights are comparatively calm.  In the winter months the wind blows in soft and gentle breezes from the south-east, and the temperature is agreeable, the thermometer rarely sinking below 50 deg.  When the winds blow from the ocean, it never rains; when they blow from the land, as they do during the winter and spring months, the weather is showery, and resembles that of the month of May in the same latitude on the Atlantic coast.  The coolness of the climate and briskness of the air above described are confined to particular positions on the coast, and the description in this respect is not applicable to the interior of the country, nor even to other localities immediately on the coast.

On the 21st, by invitation of Captain Montgomery, I dined on board of the sloop-of-war Portsmouth.  The party, including myself, consisted of Colonel Russell, Mr. Jacob, Lieutenant Bartlett, and a son of Captain M. There are few if any officers in our navy more highly and universally esteemed, for their moral qualities and professional merits, than Captain M. He is a sincere Christian, a brave officer, and an accomplished gentleman.  Under the orders of Commodore Sloat, he first raised the American flag in San Francisco.  We spent the afternoon most agreeably, and the refined hospitality, courteous manners, and intelligent and interesting conversation of our host made us regret the rapidly fleeting moments.  The wines on the table were the produce of the vine of California, and, having attained age, were of an excellent quality in substance and flavour.

I attended a supper-party given this evening by Mr. Frank Ward.  The party was composed of citizens of the town, and officers of the navy and the merchant and whale ships in the harbour.  In such a company as was here assembled, it was very difficult for me to realize that I was many thousand miles from, home, in a strange and foreign country.  All the faces about me were American, and there was nothing in scene or sentiment to remind the guests of their remoteness from their native shores.  Indeed, it seems to be a settled opinion, that California is henceforth to compose a part of the United States, and every American who is now here considers himself as treading upon his own soil, as much as if he were in one of the old thirteen revolutionary states.  Song, sentiment, story, and wit heightened the enjoyments of the excellent