who, trying to parry it, received the lance through his hand; he immediately, with his other hand, seized his tomahawk, and struck his opponent, splitting his head from the crown to the mouth.  By this time the others had come up, and, with the most extraordinary dexterity and bravery, the Indian vanquished two more, and the rest ran away.  He rode on towards this town as far as his horse was able to carry him, and then left his horse and saddle, and came in on foot.  He arrived here about eight o’clock on Tuesday morning, December 17th.”

The Americans engaged in this affair were principally the volunteer emigrants just arrived in the country, and who had left New Helvetia a few days in advance of me.

Colonel Fremont marched from Monterey as soon as he heard of this skirmish, in pursuit of the Californians, but did not meet with them.  He then encamped at the mission of San Juan, waiting there the arrival of the remaining volunteers from above.

Leaving the Pueblo on the afternoon of the 25th, in conjunction with a small force commanded by Captain Weber, we made an excursion into the hills, near a rancho owned by Captain W., where were herded some two or three hundred public horses.  It had been rumoured that a party of Californians were hovering about here, intending to capture and drive off these horses.  The next day (November 26th), without having met any hostile force, driving these horses before us, we encamped at Mr. Murphy’s rancho.  Mr. Murphy is the father of a large and respectable family, who emigrated to this country some three or four years since from, the United States, being originally from Canada.  His daughter, Miss Helen, who did the honours of the rude cabin, in manners, conversation, and personal charms, would grace any drawing-room.  On the 28th, we proceeded down the Pueblo valley, passing Gilroy’s rancho, and reaching the mission of San Juan just before dark.  The hills and valleys are becoming verdant with fresh grass and wild oats, the latter being, in places, two or three inches high.  So tender is it, however, that it affords but little nourishment to our horses.

The mission of San Juan Bautista has been one of the most extensive of these establishments.  The principal buildings are more durably constructed than those of other missions I have visited, and they are in better condition.  Square bricks are used in paving the corridors and the ground floors.  During the twilight, I strayed accidentally through a half-opened gate into a cemetery, inclosed by a high wall in the rear of the church.  The spectacle was ghastly enough.  The exhumed skeletons of those who had been deposited here lay thickly strewn around, showing but little respect for the sanctity of the grave, or the rights of the dead from the living.  The cool damp night-breeze sighed and moaned through the shrubbery and ruinous arches and corridors, planted and reared by those whose neglected bones were now exposed to the rude insults of man and beast.  I could not but imagine that the voices of complaining spirits mingled with these dismal and mournful tones; and plucking a cluster of roses, the fragrance of which was delicious, I left the spot, to drive away the sadness and melancholy produced by the scene.