MONDAY, JAN. 10. A woman, from our western border, who had drifted into California over the mountains, and looking as if she had well survived the hardships of the way, walked into my office this morning, and rather demanded, than invoked, a decree, that her husband might cut timber on the lands of Señor M——. I asked her if her husband had rented the land. “No.” If he had any contract or agreement with the owner. “No.” “Why then, my woman, do you claim the right of cutting the timber?” “Right, sir!” she exclaimed; “why, have we not taken the country?” I told her it was true, we had taken the country; but we had not taken the private land titles with it: she seemed to think that was a distinction without a difference. This anecdote will furnish a clue to the spirit with which the patient Californians have had to contend. TUESDAY, JAN. 18. Main-street was thrown into confusion this morning by a wild bullock, who had broken the lasso of his keeper. He plunged down the peopled avenue in foaming fury, clothed with all the terrors of the Apocalyptic beast: men, women, and children fled in every direction. I was standing at the moment in the portico of our Navy Agent, and before I could clear it, he swept through a corner, dashing to the earth a huge stanchion. His next rencounter was with the high paling which protected a shade-tree, and which he carried off as Samson the gates of Gaza. Something attracted his flashing eyes to the door of a small dwelling; in an instant it flew into fragments before his impetuous strength fortunately it contained no tenant except the wild monster himself, who soon issued from the door, and seemed for a moment lost in his phrensy. A caballero, mounted on a spirited horse, and with his lasso whirling high in air, now rushed up; I expected for a moment to see a desperate plunge from the beast at the courser’s side, but the rider and his steed understood their occupation too well; the lasso fell over his horn, and in an instant he was tumbling in the sand. He recovered himself, but it was only to be thrown again, till a second lasso secured his flying heels, and the knife of the Indian finished the rest. A wave of lava let loose from its crater, an avalanche that has slipped from its Alpine steep, and a wild bull that has broken his lasso, are among the most terrific objects that dash on human vision. CHAPTER XVII. RAINS IN CALIFORNIA.—FUNCTIONS OF THE ALCALDE OF MONTEREY.—ORPHANS IN CALIFORNIA.—SLIP OF THE GALLOWS ROPE.—MAKING A FATHER WHIP HIS BOY.—A CONVICT AS PRISON COOK.—THE KANACKA.—THOM. COLE.—A MAN ROBBING HIMSELF.—A BLACKSMITH OUTWITTED.