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A Yankee, who had been naturalized, and become a Catholic, and had married in the country, was sitting in his house at the Pueblo de los Angeles, with his wife and children, when a Mexican, with whom he had had a difficulty, entered the house, and stabbed him to the heart before them all.
He was delighted to find a full strong company of artillery, subject to his orders, well supplied with clothing and money in all respects, and, much to the disgust of our Captain Tompkins, he took half of his company clothing and part of the money held by me for the relief of his worn-out and almost naked dragoons left behind at Los Angeles.
For instance, when about halfway down the trail that first day, at the Frijoles Cañon or Rito de los Frijoles, as it is called, I met on an abrupt bend in the trail a Pueblo Indian from Santa Clara blue jean suit, red handkerchief around neck, felt hat, huge silver earrings and teeth white as pearls Juan Gonzales, one of the workers in the cañon, who knows every foot of the Rio Grande.
Two daughters were carried off and afterwards sold to the Mohaves, among whom one died and the other was restored by purchase to freedom by Henry Grinnell, and was sent to her brother's home in Los Angeles.* Another characteristic example is related by Hobbs, lit the desert beyond Yuma,
Dorman squirmed away from her. "I los' one shiny penny, Be'trice and I couldn't open de door. Help me find my shiny penny." Keith picked him up and set him upon one square shoulder. "We'll take you up to your auntie, first thing, young man." "I want my one shiny penny. I want it!" Dorman showed symptoms of howling again. "We'll come back and find it. Your auntie wants you now, and grandmama."
No, the ungrateful wretch! Any member of the S.F.M.E.? I regret to say not. He went and married a girl from Los Angeles, whom he met on one of the summer vacations the S.F.M.E. had put within his reach a girl from whom no portion of his measure of prosperity had come. Such was the ingratitude of Barkis. They have never told me so, but I think the S.F.M.E. feel it keenly.
Charley had been out in California all winter. She'd been real melancholy in the fall religious melancholy it ran in her family. Her father worried so much over believing that he had committed the unpardonable sin that he died in the asylum. So when Rose Douglas got that way Charley packed her off to visit her sister in Los Angeles.
On September 8, 1797, the seventeenth of the California Missions was founded by Padre Lasuen, in the Encino Valley, where Francisco Reyes had a rancho in the Los Angeles jurisdiction. The natives called it Achois Comihavit. Reyes' house was appropriated as a temporary dwelling for the missionary. The Mission was dedicated to Fernando III, King of Spain.
"Marius the Epicurean," "The Essays of Elia," "Sesame and Lilies," "The Stones of Venice," and the little toy magazines, full of the flaccid banalities of the "Minor Poets," were continually in her hands. When Presley had appeared on Los Muertos, she had welcomed his arrival with delight. Here at last was a congenial spirit.
Lieutenant Minor, a very clever young officer, had taken violently sick and died about the time I got back from Los Angeles, leaving Lieutenants Ord and Loeser alone with the company, with Assistant-Surgeon Robert Murray. Captain William G. Marcy was the quartermaster and commissary.
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