I may as well here finish the histories of the good missionaries. When I
was sent upon an expedition to Monterey, which I shall soon have to
detail, Padre Marini acccompanied me. Having failed with the Shoshones,
he considered that he might prove useful by locating himself in the
Spanish settlements of California. We parted soon after we arrived at
Monterey, and I have never seen or heard of him since. I shall, however,
have to speak of him again during our journey and sojourn at that town.
The other, Padre Antonio, died at the settlement previous to my journey
to Monterey, and the Indians still preserve his robes, missal, and
crucifix, as the relics of a good man. Poor Padre Antonio! I would have
wished to have known the history of his former life. A deep melancholy
was stamped upon his features, from some cause of heart-breaking grief,
which even religion could but occasionally assuage, but not remove.
After his death, I looked at his missal. The blank pages at the
beginning and the end were filled up with pious reflections, besides
some few words, which spoke volumes as to one period of his existence.
The first words inscribed were; "Julia, obiit A.D. 1799. Virgo
purissima, Maris Stella. Ora pro me." On the following leaf was written:
"Antonio de Campestrina, Convient.
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