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June 27, 1853.  

California has this season won for herself the distinction of being the most fickle coquettish 
and inexplicable creature in the world so far as her climate is concerned. The unprecedented 
floods now succeeded by unprecedented cold winds, and long heavy rains which according to 
custom ought to have disappeared immediately upon the approach of the spring months. But 
in spite of prophecies, hopes, conclusion & beliefs of every nature, the weather failed to "dry 
up" or make any change for the better till the last of May approached. I never saw in the States 
more disagreeable weather in this month, than we had here. But just when [I] had concluded 
that the rainy season of '53 and '54 had set in, with its blustering cold winds all at once the clouds 
rolled away, the breezes lulled, and the hot sun having nothing to contend with, pound[ed] down 
his beams as though he was determined by the intensity of his rays to reward us fully for their 
long and chilling absence. Up, up went the mercury, day after day getting a little higher each time, 
till it ranged at mid-day from 105 [degrees] to 115 [degrees] above zero. [?]! Such a time of roasting, 
frying, boiling, sweating and sweltering, I never saw.

The only aim of the whole population was to keep comfortably cool, and from 2 till 5 or 6 in the 
afternoon, every species of activity

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was quieted. The heat was so great that even those accustomed to labor in the sun could not 
bear it, and the workmen on the buildings in the city were compelled to desist from their labors, 
till the sun had nearly reached the horizon. For a wonder, too, the nights were close and sultry; 
just such as you have in Missouri in the summer season, a circumstance which I have never known 
before in California. But such strange proceedings on the part of the climate could not last long 
and accordingly a few days ago, the wind wheeled around to the south, - the cool corner in this 
valley - and as if by magic, the whole aspect of things was changed. The mercury vibrated between 
90 [degrees] and 100 [degrees] which is very comfortable here, and when the sun went behind the 
level of the hills, the delicious, soft invigorating air, that stole rather than swept over the plain, paid a 
hundred fold, for the heat of the day. In spite of the rains & wind of our winters, and the scorching, 
dusty heat of our summers, I am still better pleased with this climate, than any that I have ever seen 
and I would not go over a hundred miles for the purpose of finding a better.

I have been so situated this summer that these freaks of the weather have troubled me less than the 
majority of those who have 

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been in the city. My office is in a large finely ventilated brick building, the walls of which are of unusual 
thickness, able to defy the fiercest attempts of fire or heat to injure it. My room is on the second floor 
with three large windows facing the south, whence, as I mentioned, just now, we get our coolest and 
most usual breezes.  And my boarding house is in one of the pleasantest localities in the city, being 
on the southern outskirts where freedom from dust and confusion & an abundance of fresh air and 
considerable shade have united their pleasant influences to make a delightful spot. My office opens 
at 8 o'clock, and I remain in it pretty closely until 1/2 past 12, when I take a lunch at the most convenient 
restaurant. Returning, business grows quiet between 5 and 6, and by 6 or a little after I am at supper 
at home.

You can hardly imagine how pleasantly I have been situated this summer, for I have written so much 
about the lack of life's comforts, and the absences of society in this country, that you are not prepared 
to expect any great advancement towards the height of civilization. 

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I received a letter from Jos. with yours. He seems to be pleased with Jacksonville, and is inclined to 
the opinion that if he meets with encouragement enough he will make that place his home, some time 
or another. He says he is delighted with the beauty of the town and of the surrounding country, and thinks 
the society equal to any in the world. I hope he will find sufficient inducement to remain there, for if he 
must leave his own town, he is in one of the pleasantest spots on the earth, and in a few years, at the 
present rate of the march of improvements he will be but two or three hours ride from Palmyra.

I have heard nothing from Elias, for about a year, save one letter which he wrote some time after his 
marriage. He seems to be pleasantly situated, and writes in a strain which indicates more contentment 
than I have known him to profess for a good many years; and I hope that his prospects for the future will 
grow brighter now that he has a home again and has ceased his wanderings over the earth.