Capt. Marston, with fifty men from the Savannah, and Capt. Maddox, with a company of mounted volunteers, and Capt. Weber, with another band of resolute spirits, met them. A general and decisive engagement was anticipated; but after a few hours of pretty sharp fighting, the Californians withdrew from Santa Clara, which was entered by our forces. A flag of truce was sent in, and the leading spirits on both sides assembled under the shadows of a great native oak. The Californians stated that they had taken up arms, not to make war on the American flag, but to protect themselves from the depredations of those who, under color of that flag, were plundering them of their cattle, horses, and grain; and that on assurance being given that these acts of lawless violence should cease, they were ready to return quietly to their homes. These demands were not enforced in a spirit of menace, but with that moral firmness which belongs to a deep sense of wrong. They were acceded to, and the parties separated, never again, I hope, to meet as belligerents. This is a much better mode of settling differences than through the arbitrament of the bayonet. It is an easy thing to dislodge a man’s argument by dislodging his life; but this summary process of getting rid of an opponent will generally be followed by something worse. There is terror even in the ghost of a misdeed. FRIDAY, JAN. 15. We have further intelligence from the seat of war. General Kearny, with his staff and a guard of one hundred dragoons, arrived on the 6th ult. from New Mexico at San Pasqual, about thirty miles from San Diego. Here he encountered a hundred and sixty Californians, under Andres Pico, well mounted, and armed with rifles and lances. A sanguinary engagement ensued, marked by the most daring, determined conduct on both sides. Captain Johnson, with twelve dragoons, led the charge, and was shot dead in the furious onset. Captain Moore, with fifty dragoons, rushed to the front: the enemy wavered—retreated; when this gallant officer, with a few of his men who were better mounted than the rest, rushed on in pursuit. The enemy suddenly wheeled; and now it was hand to hand between the heavy sword and lance. Captain Moore, on his white charger was a mark which none could mistake. Lance after lance was shivered by his flashing steel, till, at last, he sunk overpowered. All this lasted but a few minutes, but long enough to reach its tragic results before the remainder of the guard could come up.