MONDAY, NOV. 30. We have had at last a true specimen of California showers. The wind blew a gale from the south. Cloud on cloud was piled into the zenith, till the whole dome of heaven was filled with substantial darkness. The earth lay in an eclipse. A few heavy rolls of thunder, and the rain fell in torrents; it lasted twelve hours. Every roof and frowning cliff became a cascade. Down each ravine rolled an exulting tide. The aquatic bird dashed onward in its foam to the sea. Suddenly the wind veered into the west, and in a few moments the sky was without a cloud. Field and forest flashed out in the splendors of the sun; and on the soft wind came gushes of music from the wild-wood. Instead of bleak November, you would have said: “Fairer and brighter spreads the reign of May; The tresses of the woods With the light dallying of the west wind play And the full briming floods, As gladly to their goal they run, Hail the returning sun.” PERCIVAL. TUESDAY, DEC. 1. I was startled from my slumbers last night by the report of a musket under my window; and, seizing my rifle, rushed to the door but could perceive no one near, and only heard, in the darkness, the sound of retreating footsteps. The mystery was soon explained: the convicts had escaped from prison, and the sentry, posted near my residence, had fired upon them as they rushed past. Several of the guard went immediately in pursuit, and succeeded in apprehending two; but seven others, favored by the darkness and storm of the night, had cleared the town. It appeared, on investigation, that the sentry, posted at the prison, had stolen the keys from the guardroom, where they were kept, unlocked the outer and inner doors, and then run himself with the convicts. Another sentry, by a preconcerted plan, had also joined them. Only one prisoner remained in the apartment which had been unlocked. When asked by me why _he_ did not run, he said he would not be seen running from Tophet in such company. This was the funny fellow who stole the money. One of those who escaped, was a great overgrown Californian—a monstrous mass of flesh and bone. He had been shot in the leg in a previous fray, and always affected the cripple, hobbling about on huge crutches, which fairly bent under him. But last night, when his pursuers were close on his trail, he bounded forward like a rabbit. Crutches, and all occasion for them, had been left behind. You would have thought some shape of air were flitting before you, but for the heavy puffs which heaved, at brief intervals, from his laboring trunk. An innocent man escaping from violence has often a hard time of it, but a felon escaping from justice much harder; his guilty conscience will long keep the pursuer at his heels.