TERM OF ENLISTMENT EXPIRES—BATTALION MEMBERS PREPARING TO RETURN TO THEIR FAMILIES—ONE COMPANY RE-ENLISTS—AN INSOLENT SPANIARD—PISTOL SNAPPED IN THE WRITER'S FACE—ALMOST A DEATHBLOW—DESPERATE FIGHT STOPPED BY BYSTANDERS—SERIOUS TROUBLE WITH ANOTHER SPANIARD—LEARN THE LESSON TO AVOID THOSE WHO GAMBLE OR DRINK INTOXICANTS—SPANISH CHARACTER—CLASS OF CALIFORNIA'S INHABITANTS IN 1847—CONDITION OF THE COUNTRY—APPEARANCE OF THE TOWNS AND VILLAGES—DIFFICULTY IN SECURING AN OUTFIT FOR MEMBERS OF THE BATTALION TO JOURNEY EASTWARD.

THE members of the Mormon Battalion had been purchasing horses and mules and a general outfit for a return to our friends at the close of our term of enlistment, which was drawing nigh. At the same time, Col. Stephenson, of the New York volunteers, and other commissioned officers, were making strenuous efforts to have us re-enlist for another twelve months, or six months at least, telling us they had authority to impress us if they chose, but they preferred to have us come as volunteers. It had been reported that although the Californians had been whipped, there was not concord, and that as soon as the Mormon Battalion left the country the Californians would revolt and make an effort to overthrow United States supremacy; but while we remained there was no fear.

Now, as there were many of the battalion who had spent all their wages—ninety-six dollars for their year's service—it may have appeared to them that the only thing to do was to re-enlist. Horses could be purchased cheaply, and provisions were not high, but some money was needed. Consequently, one company re-enlisted under Capt. Davis of company E, while the rest of the command were busy preparing for their journey east to meet the Saints somewhere, they knew not just where.

Comparatively few of our command had acquired sufficient knowledge of the Spanish language to do their own trading, and these acted as interpreters for their comrades. The writer happened to be one of the few who had made some success in picking up the language. On one occasion, when hunting the town and adjacent country for such articles as we needed in our outfit, he became fatigued and went into a cafe for a cup of coffee. On entering the restaurant he found, besides the landlord, three or four good-appearing Spaniards, who soon began to question him about the United States and its people. Their questions were being answered in a courteous manner, when the attendant, who was a tall, fine-looking Spaniard, interposed with the remark that America was a fine country, but her soldiers were cowards and babies. The writer was alone, and scarcely knew how to treat the insult; besides, there was a possibility that it was intended as a joke. Therefore, he felt that it would be improper to be too abrupt in replying, and said, quietly, that America was a good country and her soldiers were the bravest of the brave.

At that moment the Spanish-Californian stepped back and brought out an American hat that had been cut through on the side by some sharp instrument. Said he: "Here is one's hat—I killed him in battle. He was a great baby." Reaching back, he brought out a dragoon's sword and a holster, with two iron-mounted U. S. pistols. His eyes flashed, and he mimicked the dying soldier, saying all the Americans were cowards. My blood was up, and I taunted him by asking him how it was, if the Americans were such cowards and babies, and fled from the Spaniards on the battlefield, that the Americans had taken the country. Pointing to the Stars and Stripes floating over the fort on the hill, I said, "That shows where the brave men are; it is the Californians who are cowards and babies." In an instant a pistol was snapped in my face, and I saw the fire roll from the flintlock. Quick as a flash, I caught a heavy knife that was handy, leaped on to the counter, and was bringing the weapon down on the head of my assailant, when both of us were seized by bystanders, and were disarmed. I started for camp, but was dragged back to compromise the affair. When I re-entered the room the proprietor was priming his weapon with mustard seed. He said it was all fun, and we should make up. The spectators were anxious to settle, and offered to treat. Some of the Spaniards expressed regret at the occurrence. The matter was dropped, though I never was convinced that that Spanish attendant did not have murder in his heart.

On another occasion I had an unpleasant experience with another Spaniard. It was when I was on guard duty at the prison in Los Angeles. A very large, well dressed Spaniard came across the street from a drinking saloon and gambling den. He wore a large sombrero worth ab............