Wednesday, July 18th, brought us the brig Pilgrim from the windward. As she came in, we found that she was a good deal altered in her appearance. Her short top-gallant-masts were up, her bowlines all unrove (except to the courses), the quarter boom-irons off her lower yards, her jack-cross-trees sent down, several blocks got rid of, running rigging rove in new places, and numberless other changes of the same character. Then, too, there was a new voice giving orders, and a new face on the quarter-deck,-- a short, dark-complexioned man, in a green jacket and a high leather cap. These changes, of course, set the whole beach on the qui-vive, and we were all waiting for the boat to come ashore, that we might have things explained. At length, after the sails were furled and the anchor carried out, her boat pulled ashore, and the news soon flew that the expected ship had arrived at Santa Barbara, and that Captain Thompson had taken command of her, and her captain, Faucon, had taken the Pilgrim, and was the green-jacketed man on the quarter-deck. The boat put directly off again, without giving us time to ask any more questions, and we were obliged to wait till night, when we took a little skiff, that lay on the beach, and paddled off. When I stepped aboard, the second mate called me aft, and gave me a large bundle, directed to me, and marked ``Ship Alert.'' This was what I had longed for, yet I refrained from opening it until I went ashore. Diving down into the forecastle, I found the same old crew, and was really glad to see them again. Numerous inquiries passed as to the new ship, the latest news from Boston, &c., &c. Stimson had received letters from home, and nothing remarkable had happened. The Alert was agreed on all hands to be a fine ship, and a large one: ``Larger than the Rosa,''-- ``Big enough to carry off all the hides in California,''-- ``Rail as high as a man's head,''-- ``A crack ship,''-- ``A regular dandy,'' &c., &c. Captain Thompson took command of her, and she went directly up to Monterey; thence she was to go to San Francisco, and probably would not be in San Diego under two or three months. Some of the Pilgrim's crew found old shipmates aboard of her, and spent an hour or two in her forecastle the evening before she sailed. They said her decks were as white as snow,-- holystoned every morning, like a man-of-war's; everything on board ``ship-shape and Bristol fashion''; a fine crew, three mates, a sailmaker and carpenter, and all complete. ``They've got a man for mate of that ship, and not a bloody sheep about decks!''-- ``A mate that knows his duty, and makes everybody do theirs, and won't be imposed upon by either captain or crew.'' After collecting all the information we could get on this point, we asked something about their new captain. He had hardly been on board long enough for them to know much about him, but he had taken hold strong, as soon as he took command,-- shifting the