San Juan is thirty-four miles from Monterey; the only buildings are a gigantic church and the contiguous dwelling—once occupied by the priests and their Indian neophytes. The sanctuary remains; but the priests are gone, and the Indians are on the four winds, save those over whom the pine sings its requiem. We broke our long fast on hard bread, broiled pork, and coffee without milk. The sun was high when our mules were harnessed, and the crack of the driver’s whip told that we were on the way. A few miles brought us to the foot of a hill; when half-way up our mules balked, and the wagon began to travel backward. We blocked the wheels, and tried to cheer and force them on; but a mule has that peculiar virtue which is insensible alike to flatteries and frowns. Still we coaxed, and whipped, and cheered, but in vain—there stuck our old wagon, fast as a thunder-cloud on a mountain’s bluff. We had to turn lighters, and carry the greater part of the load, by hand, to the top of the hill. One of the mules whistled out in seeming derision; while his fellow looked sorry, as if smitten with compunction. This delay consumed several hours, and the sun was far down his western slope when we reached a few shanties on a plain covered in spots with the surviving verdure of the year: here we camped for the night. One tethered the animals; two brought wood and water; and one turned cook. We made our supper by the light of our watch-fire, smoked our cigars, and turned down upon the earth, with our saddles for our pillows. A blanket served to protect each from the dews and the night air. How little man wants here! His palace seems to tower in idle grandeur, between a cradle and a coffin. FRIDAY, SEPT. 22. Day glimmered over the hills and we were up; the gathered brands of our watch-fire kindled again under our camp-kettle. Our breakfast was soon dispatched, our mules in harness, our blankets stowed, and we were on the way. Ten miles farther, and my third horse, which I had procured at San Juan, began to give out, and I was thrown upon my feet, till relieved by the opportune arrival of a gentleman with a spare horse, which I purchased at his own price, leaving my own to shift for himself. When on my feet, my thoughts ran bitterly back to the two fine horses with which I had expected to leave Monterey. We are the least forgiving when we feel most the need of that of which we have been robbed.