The squadron sailed, and I was ordered to embark in a fine old store-ship, to cross the Sea of Cortez. The lumbering craft went urging her lazy length through the water, her sails now and then giving a gentle flapping, as if to convince herself they were not asleep, but napping, unlike the indolent sailors beneath their shade. "Blessed be he who first invented sleep, for it covereth a man all over like a mantle." When eyelids have fallen with very grief or weariness, how we may retire within a shell, to live a new peaceful existence, shut out from all the toils and cares of everyday life.

We arrived in the broad bay of La Paz. Circling hills and mountains arose red, parched and arid, enclosing on three sides a vast sheet of water—like an inland gulf—thirty miles in length and fifteen wide.

Vegetation appears to have forgotten this portion of the Peninsula entirely, at least to deck it in that delightful greenish hue that attracts the gaze when beheld from a distance—creeping up narrow valleys, or reposing, like an emerald carpet, on the sloping plains. Here Nature looks as if baked in an oven, until she had been thoroughly done too! A mile from the anchorage, at the head of the bay, another large lake extends beyond, and near by is the little town of La Paz—the ancient Santa Cruz of Cortez. The place has nothing to recommend it, except the fig-groves and vineyards of a Portuguese, named Manuel, and a tank of fresh water, where one may have a morning dip, before the vines are irrigated. There were a score or more seÑoritas, who danced with us all night, and washed our clothes all day, and very well they performed both accomplishments, being withal intelligent, and, to a certain degree educated; also two or three billiard-tables; a montÉ bank, of course; millions of cat-fish; plenty of fleas, dust, and heat; and about an hundred of Yankee Volunteers—charming follows they were, as was remarked, "for a small tea-party without spoons." I think this is a correct summary of all the diversions and societies of La Paz, in the which we soon became contented and domesticated.

No civilized beings excepting those unkillable gentry, yclept salamanders, could by any chance endure the noontide heat on shore; no one ever had energy to consult the mercury, but we presumed it was very high—say three or four hundred. We never left the ship until after the land wind came from the lofty heights to apprize us, perhaps, that we might risk a visit, without becoming sublimed in perspiration. Then the vine-clad arbors of the Portuguese were our favorite resort, where we killed time, devouring figs and grapes, or puffing cigarillos; the evenings came cool and temperate, with never a cloud in the heavens; the lassitude and languor of the sultry day gave place to more invigorating influences, and we sauntered from casa to casa, wherever lights were twinkling. The doÑcellas were seated on low stools beneath the leafy awnings, whilst careful amas—house-keepers—were plying the needle or tambour work within.

"Kiss your hands, seÑoritas." "Shall we dance this evening?" Con mucho gusto! cry they all in a breath. Aye! the Graces doubt them! who ever knew a lithe young creole to turn her pretty toes away from whirling waltz or contra-danza. "Where shall we dance?" At Lola's, or Mariana's, or Ampara's—it matters not. "But the music?" Pshaw, you gringo! as if those well-fingered old harps and guitars were not ready tuned for the occasion, and the old night owls of musicians ever watchful, playing around the girls, like pilot fishes about the sharks. Vamanos pues! The well-known faces are shortly assembled in a neighbor's dwelling; the listless, indolent air of morning has gone—at the first tinkle of the harp, eyes are sparkling with rapture, and feet patting the floor, like prisoned birds, only awaiting the harmonising crash of the little orchestra to be in motion. Contra-danza! shrieks the old leader. Two lines are formed—swinging gracefully to and fro, figures are changing, hands clasping and thrilling, arms are twining and winding, until the different bands are wound into beautiful and panting groups, when the music pauses a moment—hands fall, and to be convinced that our angelic partners have not wings, each seizes his fair companion around the waist, and away we spin in the waltz.

In return for the nightly tertulias on shore, we gave them a little ball on board the frigate—the quarter-deck was gaily dressed and bedizzened with parti-colored bunting, flags, chandeliers of bayonets and other nautical ornaments; but in the absence of any marketable matter, the supper-table below presented more variegated hues than the ball room itself; being all lights, glass, fancifully carved melons and dulces. However, they had capital music by the German Confederation, led by Peter the Greek—dancing until midnight—the old ladies were allowed to puff cigarillos on the quarter-deck, and all went away apparently highly delighted.

When becoming a little ennuied with these light pleasures, we made boating expeditions, and afterwards returned to them with renewed zest. Once on the glorious anniversary of Yankee Independence, we made the lease of a jolly boat. It was a capacious, portly and staunch receptacle of marine locomotion, generally used for big market baskets, beef, vegetables, and at times to transport drunken sailors. Our party was select and companionable; the General, Luigi, Canova, Speckles, Magarrabin, Earl and myself—a tambourine and fiddle, with each a nigger accompaniment, both combining with music a taste for cooking. We had fishing lines and fowling pieces, which last were voted bores and forthwith ordered to be discharged, and kept so during the cruise; then there was plenty of malt and sherry, a huge jug of punch after the ancient Romans, a comfortable chowder kettle and bag of biscuits. We were up betimes, and as the first ruffle of the sea breeze disturbed the quiet surface of the bay, we pushed off from the ship.

Here let me apostrophise! I hate ships, I hate boats, I hate everything that floats! even more than I detest poor people; but at times they are all endurable, and marine misanthropic as I am, once in a great while I become reconciled; but should I ever have a son, and should ships exist and not merge into balloons, and he wish to become notorious for filial piety by reading the book his sire wrote—and be thus imbued with that parent's ideas and prejudices—I beseech him never to trust his precious toes with only half an inch of plank betwixt them and the briny deep. But providing he should be so fortunate as to fall into a roomy bowl of a boat, like to our jolly, then after selecting the smoothest, shallowest of water, the gentlest of breezes, and flimsiest of sails, that will fly out of their bindings at the first puff of wind—armed with a broad sombrero, summerly jacket and trowsers, let him recline pleasantly on the seats, with a leg and arm thrown over the side, trailing in the rippling current—if there be the slightest suspicion of a shark, don't do it—then I say, let him lounge and doze as we did, as our richly freighted argosie calmly turned the native element from her prow, and proceeded majestically up the inner bay.

We had a ten miles voyage, pausing occasionally to cast out the lines, temptingly baited by choice bits of meat, whereby were hooked great numbers of horned fishes of the feline species, commonly called cats, which served to divert our leisure moments until the cooks pronounced the market glutted, and we accordingly drew in the hooks, and again steered lazily towards our destination. It may have been an hour past meridian when the keel grated softly on the strand. We had chosen a little jutting sandy point, where the wind made a cat's paw of us, and came fawning and eddying around in the coolest manner imaginable. Days are ever the same in La Paz—there had not been a sprinkle of rain for a century, so we had naught to fear but the clear bright glare of the sun, which poured down light and heat on the arid mountains and glassy sheet of water, from which, like a polished mirror of silver, it was reflected back again.

On the little promontory there chanced to be a stunted olive, and it was but a minute's labor to cut away the lower branches, clothe the umbrella-shaped top with a boat's sail, spread mats and awnings beneath, build a temporary fire-place near by, and then repose happily in the shade, with cigars in full blast, and supervise the interesting process of cleaning fish, by the sailors, whilst the negro minstrels charmed us with falsetto ballads, or highly-complicated jigs.

We had narratives of adventure, accounts of previous fourths of July, and anecdotes of distinguished naval heroes, which last, I am sorry to say, as a general rule, are not complimentary—a pint of ale and a bite of luncheon. Then after multitudes of speculations upon the merits of the embryo chowder, and many direful threats and disrespectful allusions to the shins and pedigree of our sable cooks, in case the mess should prove a failure—gradually one by one we fell off into siesta.

San Antonio, or that great fisherman, Sam Jones himself, only knows how long we remained in this happy state of insensibility, or how long the fishes, potatoes and chillis had been bubbling in the cauldron, or how often the jolly's crew had applied their lips to the punch jug—if I might be allowed to conjecture, possibly very often; nevertheless, we were all startled by a doleful yell from Mr. Speckles, who at the same time expressed his opinion in emphatic language, that the larger portion of the infernal regions "had broke loose." Appearances certainly favored the conviction, for within a few yards there came tearing along the beach a drove of bullocks, scattering the sand in clouds, besides having a very unpleasant expression about their horns. We immediately vacated the front seats, and rolled away into the interior of the branch-built castle, leaving no impediment in the path of our enraged visitors. We emerged again as they went by, and in the words of the Archbishop of Granada to Gil Blas, wished them "all manner of prosperity and a little more taste." The cause of this stampede was soon explained by the advent of a youthful vacuero, who stopped to observe us. The General very dextrously hitched a boat hook on to the waistband of his leather breeks, whilst some one else with equal skill, applied a like implement to the bit ringbolt of his bridle, and thus, as it were, brought him up all standing: SeÑor quoth we, "you behold the rightful conquistadores of California, the enormity of your crime, in driving wild beasts through a cavalier's house and furniture, renders you liable to fine and imprisonment, therefore we desire you to dismount," whereupon, making vigorous resistance, we assisted him to alight by the aid of the boat hook.

Now, being supplied with a horse, we instantly made up a purse for a carrera—sweepstakes for all runners. But two competitors entered—Canova and Earl. The rest of the party held the bets and bottles, and constituted themselves judges. Mr. Earl took the nag, and Canova to his heels. The course was stepped fifty yards, the day being warm. They got away cleverly together, although the first twenty yards the former tried to jockey by crowding his antagonist into the water! At the turning-stone the cavallo was ahead, and if he could have been turned at that precise moment, the game would have been up; but every one knows how difficult it is for one unaccustomed to the business to pull a horse short up at his speed, and, consequently, the animal went still farther ahead, and when suddenly checked, pitched the rider to the ears several times before he could be made to gather fresh way on the other tack. At this period of the action, Canova was making long strides, and came in winner, after a hotly-contested race of two minutes. Rewarding the vacuero with a ship's biscuit, we graciously permitted him to depart on his steed.

The chowder was done to a charm—smelled and tasted nicely—neither over done nor underdone, nor too much chilli, nor too dry, nor too cold; and not being afflicted with indigestion, we did full justice to the feast, and attacked the big pot unceasingly, whose capacious interior did not shrink from the encounter. Still there is an end to all things, and there was, after a great while, to our appetites; so we sighed deeply, and drained the cups to the memory of '76, and other republican sentiments of patriotic tendency.

As the shades of evening began to fall, we walked into the water and had a delicious bath. The old jolly was then gotten ready, and as the last rays of the setting sun flashed behind the western hills, we pushed from the strand, and gave three cheers in commemoration of our marine pic-nic. The light land wind wafted our bark slowly down the bay—the large lug sail swelled sluggishly over the gunwale, sound asleep. The crew were doubled up on the thawts, sound asleep also; and our own coterie, while listening to a narrative by Magarrabin, one by one dropt into slumber, and there was no one awake save the helmsman. I was comfortably esconced on the low grating, and on awaking the "pale night stars in millions bespangled heaven's pavilions." The breeze had freshened, and the water was seething and hissing under the cut-water. "Hillo! coxswain, where are we? near the ship, eh?" "Sir," said Fagan solemnly, "we have not budged an inch these two hours—it's strong flood." True enough we had been sailing in an aquatic treadmill, going through all the motions, without getting ahead. Pending these reflections Luigi came forward, and peering through the gloom to have a glimpse at the surrounding scenery—for he was near-sighted—accidentaly lost his foothold, and popped overboard. I caught him by the toe of his boot, and assisted by the brawny arms of a stout Dutchlander, who, reaching down, seized our friend Luigi by the head, and letting go his heels, he righted, and was hauled on board.

The oars were now called to account, and without any further episode, sometime during the night we crept sedately up the frigate's side, descended to our several dormitories, and sank peacefully to rest. This was the way we passed the glorious anniversary, thousands of leagues away from our homes and country.

A few days afterwards, in one of the frigate's large cutters we departed on an excursion of longer duration, for the Pearl Fisheries. We sailed late in the afternoon for the Island of San JosÉ. It stands like a sentinel at the mouth of the great bay, almost forty miles from the usual anchorage of La Paz. With a fresh and fair wind, just as day was dawning, we rounded an elbow-shaped reef, and let run the little anchor, near the shore. At sunrise a portion of the crew were landed on the beach, and under the shady lee of a rocky bluff, tents were pitched, and all the necessary arrangements for an encampment promptly made.

From the first discovery of the peninsula, in the sixteenth century, by Hernando de Grijalva, the shores of the gulf have been famous for their valuable pearls. Many of the inlets and bays were then resorted to, and continued to yield large quantities for more than two hundred years; but from the beginning of the present century the trade has gradually fallen off, and at the breaking out of the war with the United States, there were but two small craft employed in the fisheries. Still there is no doubt that the pearl oyster abounds in immense quantities, and were the ground properly explored, the labor would be attended with profit; but the natural indolence of the natives throws a wet blanket upon everything like industry or enterprise, and as a consequence these submarine mines hide their beautiful treasures from view.

In the harbor we visited there were a number of squalid Indians, farmed out by some more sagacious armador, or patron, who provided them with jerked beef and paper cigars, in exchange for rare shells or pearls.

The season is chosen during the prevalence of calms and light winds, so that the water be not disturbed during the operations; for they

We had three buzos, or divers of great celebrity, but in the end we were not so highly impressed with their skill.

The manner of conducting the performance is a very simple one. The boat is slowly urged over the calm water—perfectly clear and transparent it is, owing to the white sandy bottom. The buzos stand in succession on the prow, each provided with a short sharp stick to dislodge the shells, whilst another with shaded eyes close to the surface, peers down into the pure blue depths, and marks the object of their search, or warns them of the appearance of the tintero—a ravenous species of shark. Mira! says the look-out man, pointing with his stick. Splash! down plunges the swarthy figure. You see him squirming and groping on the bottom, reflected in the mirage-like fluid, when presently he shoots to the surface, in one hand holding the prize, which is tossed into the boat. Hay mas!—there's more!—he exclaims, takes a long respiration, and again sinks—this time reversing his heels, after getting under water. Two or three feats of the kind, and he gives place to a fresh buzo. The depth ranged from twenty to thirty-five feet, and they remained below about a minute.

One would naturally suppose that the oldest oysters, like heads of families, out of the sea would adorn themselves with the costliest jewels, but the system is quite the reverse. The venerable shells are contented with little, valueless seeds, and the princely peas of pearls are distributed among the juveniles. This is invariably the case, and the rarest gems are always found in the smallest and youngest oysters; nor are they worn, as with mortals, in the ears, for we ever discovered them, after much scrutiny, carefully secreted in their beards!

After shelling and fishing until the sea breeze agitated the inlet, and put an end to the morning's sport, we disembarked, and did full justice to the excellent fare of one SeÑor Eloi, who had kindly attended the party in capacity of major domo, keeping a watchful eye, moreover, on vicious persons inclined to filch an over allowance of grapes, or unconsciously to swallow an entire bottle of porter, which, by the way, is an unpardonable crime on aquatic recreations like the present.

Towards evening, refreshed by siesta and bath, we shouldered rifles for the chase. I returned very soon, satisfied with stumping along the beach, where were strewn hundreds of thousands of polypii, or squids, with large black eyes like human beings, their putrefying jelly-like carcasses filling the air with a horrible stench; after a sweltering tramp over the dry, parched ravines and hills of the island, which were thickly covered with scrub cactus, having thorns nearly as long as bayonets, and very much sharper, as I found to the damage of my legs and trousers. I saw nothing within range of a bullet, and was altogether tolerably disgusted, and glad to get once more within shelter of the tents. My companions were more fortunate—they started numbers of deer—were far more fatigued from their tramp, and returned quite as empty handed.

Game is said to be very abundant on the Peninsula, but I can hardly believe the nature of the country admits of it. We had venison occasionally, of indifferent quality, flavored with the flowers and shoots of the aloes, upon which the deer can only find nourishment. On the opposite shores of the Gulf, in the Tierra Caliente, between San Blas and Mazatlan, I occasionally saw a few deer, stray coveys of quails, chichilacas, wild ducks and turkeys; but even on the upper terraces of the interior, I met with only a large species of hares; and I am confident the whole country can bear no comparison to the worst regions for game in Upper California.

My friend, Don Guillermo, in Mazatlan, who was a great hunter, told me a curious fact relating to the Coyote, who, on spying a wild turkey on the lofty branch of a tree—after a wary approach—fixes his eye upon the bird, and commences a revolving promenade, never for an instant removing his fascinating gaze from the devoted prey. The poor turkey, anxious to observe the perambulations of his friend below, follows him with eye and neck, until becoming too dizzy to maintain the perch, when down he falls into the cunning wolf's clutches!

We made a hearty supper, and then sat down to an old fashioned rubber of whist—the bets were glasses of toddy. "Steward," shouts Monsieur Borodino, who had won a stake, and nearly drank half of it, "Steward, it's too strong!" Si SeÑor, said the attentive domestic, and forthwith gave it a dash from a dark-colored liquid, which was not water. "Ah! Eloi," murmurs, sotto voce, another young gentleman in delicate health, "Have my flask filled, eh? Want it for stimulant, in case we should fall short!" This caused a pronunciamento, and being somewhat fatigued with our day's work, we made a smoke to drive away mosquitoes, rolled ourselves up in blankets, and sought repose on the yielding sand.

The following morning we were early astir—diving, fishing, and hunting. Being unsuccessful, however, after breakfast it was decided to leave our haven in San JosÉ, and try the fortune elsewhere.

At noon the tents were again metamorphosed into sails, and away we steered, in an easterly direction, across the broad strait which opens into the bay. The first hours of the voyage were fair and tranquil, but with the declining sun the wind arose from the gulf and began blowing with great violence. The straining canvas was reefed down, and curtailed of its fair proportions, and by the assistance of the buzos' eyes we were piloted into a narrow, alcove-like nook, of the Island of San Antonio. Then the dimity was all furled, and with the ashen sails we strove might and main to get beneath the high cliffs of the little port. Dios! how furiously the gusts came sweeping down the steep gorge, brushing the stout oars like feathers alongside the boat; then a renewed struggle, only to be blown from the course, and the water torn into foam, and dashed over us. We began to despair of getting on shore, although the strand was nearly within arm's length, for the gale blew with such unremitting violence as to defy our efforts. However, thanks to San Antonio, there came a transient lull, and the pilots were enabled to fasten a strong cable to the rocks. It was somewhere in this bay where the great Cortes became tossed about in his crazy bark—perchance it may have been the haven we had sought—and in gratitude for our escape, we voted a candle to the Virgin.

We found ourselves shut up in a slender canal, walled by precipitous masses of granitic rooks, hundreds of feet above us, and the channel terminated by fifty yards of smooth, pebbly beach. The fires were soon blazing merrily, and after a hasty supper, we stretched ourselves on the clean sand, and in sleep, forgot our escape from boatwreck.

The morning came bright and cheerful, with not enough wind to roughen the quiet surface of the little haven. We were amused paddling among caverns and grottos of the cliffs for an hour, and then once more stepping on board the cutter, we soon lost sight of our harbor of refuge.

Coasting along the island we passed a number of these narrow indentations, protected like spaces between one's fingers. At one of them we threw out a grapnell, and the divers collected upwards of an hundred pearl oysters within the hour; beyond we selected a cool retreat, beneath overhanging ledges of rock, where we proposed dining. Our position was exceedingly novel and curious. The finger-like promontory lifted its crest perpendicularly from the bay; the base of the cliff was composed of a thick and variegated strata of black pudding-stone, worn into lateral curves and arches, upon which rested the great body of the cliff, which appeared formed of red sand-stone, having one side scooped and scolloped into profiles upon profiles—hideous caricatures and contortions, letters and numerals, while on the face, looking towards the inlet, and immediately over our dining-hall, was cut a well-defined gallery, leading from turret to turret, the whole closed by a most artificial-looking tower and battlement! We had to gaze a long while, before convinced that the elements themselves had been the sole architects.

The same evening we sailed over to the mainland, took another night bivouac on the sandy shore, arose with the sun, beat through the Harbor of Pichilingue, and in the afternoon reached our floating home in the frigate.