These were the people with whom I was to spend a few months, and who, with the exception of the officer, Nicholas, the Frenchman, and the boy, made the whole population of the beach.  I ought, perhaps, to except the dogs, for they were an important part of our settlement.  Some of the first vessels brought dogs out with them, who, for convenience, were left ashore, and there multiplied, until they came to be a great people.  While I was on the beach, the average number was about forty, and probably an equal, or greater, number are drowned, or killed in some other way, every year.  They are very useful in guarding the beach, the Indians being afraid to come down at night; for it was impossible for any one to get within half a mile of the hide-houses without a general alarm.  The father of the colony, old Sachem, so called from the ship in which he was brought out, died while I was there, full of years, and was honorably buried.  Hogs and a few chickens were the rest of the animal tribe, and formed, like the dogs, a common company, though they were all known, and usually fed at the houses to which they belonged.

I had been but a few hours on the beach, and the Pilgrim was hardly out of sight, when the cry of ``Sail ho!’’ was raised, and a small hermaphrodite brig rounded the point, bore up into the harbor, and came to anchor.  It was the Mexican brig Fazio, which we had left at San Pedro, and which had come down to land her tallow, try it all over, and make new bags, and then take it in and leave the coast.  They moored ship, erected their try-works on shore, put up a small tent, in which they all lived, and commenced operations.  This addition gave a change and variety to our society, and we spent many evenings in their tent, where, amid the Babel of English, Spanish, French, Indian, and Kanaka, we found some words that we could understand in common.

The morning after my landing, I began the duties of hide-curing.  In order to understand these, it will be necessary to give the whole history of a hide, from the time it is taken from a bullock until it is put on board the vessel to be carried to Boston.  When the hide is taken from the bullock, holes are cut round it, near the edge, by which it is staked out to dry.  In this manner it dries without shrinking.  After the hides are thus dried in the sun, and doubled with the skin out, they are received by the vessels at the different ports on the coast, and brought down to the depot at San Diego.  The vessels land them, and leave them in large piles near the houses.  Then begins the hide-curer’s duty.

The first thing is to put them in soak.  This is done by carrying them down at low tide, and making them fast, in small piles, by ropes, and letting the tide come up and cover them.  Every day we put in soak twenty-five for each man, which, with us, made a hundred and fifty.  There they lie forty-eight hours, when they are taken out, and rolled up, in wheelbarrows, and thrown into the vats.  These