SATURDAY, MARCH 25. To-day I remitted the sentence of my prison cook. He is a Mulatto, a native of San Domingo; had drifted into California; was attached, in a subordinate capacity, to Col. Fremont’s battalion; and while the troops were quartered in town, had robbed the drawer of a liquor shop of two hundred dollars. For this offence, I had sentenced him to two years on the public works. Discovering early some reliable traits about the fellow, I began to confide in him, soon made him cook to the rest of the prisoners, and allowed him the privileges of the town, so far as his duties in that capacity required. He has never betrayed my trust, and has always been the first to communicate to me any stratagem on the part of the prisoners to effect their escape. I have trusted him with money to purchase provisions, and he has faithfully accounted for every shilling. He has always been kind and attentive to the sick. For these faithful services, I have remitted the remainder of his sentence, which would have confined him nine months longer, and have put him on a pay of thirty dollars per month as cook. There is a string in every man’s breast, which, if you can rightly touch, will “discourse music.” THURSDAY, APRIL 6. I met a little California boy to-day in tattered garments, and without hat or shoes. He had a small fish in his hand, which he had just hooked up from the end of the wharf. I offered him half a dollar for it; he said no, he wanted it himself. I offered him a dollar; he still said no, he was going to make a dinner on it. The result would probably have been the same had I offered him five dollars. No one here is going to catch fish for you or any one else while he wants them himself. SATURDAY, APRIL 15. I made another pounce this evening on the gamblers, and captured their bank; but most of the players had slipped their money into their pockets before I could reach the table. No one rescued a dollar after my cane, with its alcalde insignia, had been laid on the boards. The authority of that baton they always respect. How comfortable it is for one to carry his moral power on the top of his cane. It almost justifies the Roman Catholic exegesis—and Jacob worshipped the top of his staff. MONDAY, APRIL 17. I had sent one of my constables to the Salinas river, and the other to San Juan, and retired to rest; but about midnight was startled from my dreams, by a loud rap at my office door. Throwing my cloak around me, I unbolted the portal, and there stood, in the clear moonlight, a tall Kanacka, who reverently lifted his hat, and observed, “The town, sir, is perfectly quiet.” I thanked him for the information, and closed the door. The fellow had been drinking, and in the importance which liquor sometimes imparts, had imagined himself at the head of the police.