Sunday, Aug. 9. I officiated to-day on board the Savannah. The weather was pleasant, and several gentlemen from the shore attended. There was no service in the Roman Catholic Church, owing to the absence of one of the priests and the infirmities of the other. But when there is service, only a few of the people attend. It is sometimes, however, forced upon them in the shape of penance. When a friend of mine here was married, it was necessary that he should confess. The penance imposed on him for his previous negligences and transgressions was, that he should attend church seven Sabbaths.
CHAPTER II.
FECUNDITY OF THE CALIFORNIANS.—FIRST INTELLIGENCE OF THE WAR.—WILD INDIANS ON BOARD SHIP.—THE CHIEF.—FIRST NEWSPAPER PUBLISHED IN CALIFORNIA.—RAISING THE MATERIALS.—THE RIVAL SUITORS.—FLIGHT OF GEN. CASTRO.—A CALIFORNIAN ON HORSEBACK.
Monday, Aug. 10. The fecundity of the Californians is remarkable, and must be attributed in no small degree to the effects of the climate. It is no uncommon sight to find from fourteen to eighteen children at the same table, with their mother at their head. There is a lady of some note in Monterey, who is the mother of twenty-two living children. The youngest is at the breast, and must soon, it is said, relinquish his place to a new-comer, who will, in all probability, be allowed only the same brevity of bliss.
There is a lady in the department below who has twenty-eight children, all living, in fine health, and who may share the “envied kiss” with others yet to come. What a family—what a wife—what a mother! I have more respect for the shadow of that woman than for the living presence of the mincing being who raises a whole village if she has one child, and then puts it to death with sugar-plums. A woman with one child is like a hen with one chicken; there is an eternal scratch about nothing.
Tuesday, Aug. 11. A deserter from Gen. Castro’s camp presented himself at my office to-day and gave himself up to the American authorities. He represents the general as in rather a forlorn condition. His troops, it appears, are daily deserting him. His present force is estimated at less than six hundred. He is anxious to fly into Mexico, but is unable to raise a sufficient number of volunteers. The expectation here is, that he will surrender to Com. Stockton.
The British brig-of-war Spy anchored in the harbor of Monterey this evening. She is from San Blas, with dispatches for Admiral Seymour. Her officers are perfectly silent as to news from the United States and Mexico. She leaves in a few hours for the Collingwood at the Sandwich Islands. She has, undoubtedly, news of moment, but will not reveal it.
Wednesday, Aug. 12. The U. S. ship Warren, under Commander Hull, arrived this afternoon in thirty days from Mazatlan, bringing the eventful intelligence that war had been declared between the United States and Mexico. The mysterious silence of the officers of the Spy is now explained. But their secrecy has availed them for only twenty-four hours.
The war news produced a profound sensation here. The whole population were instantly thrown into groups in the corridors and at the corners of the streets. The hum of voices continued late into the night. It was an extinguisher on the hopes of those who had looked to Mexico for aid, or who had clung to the expectation that the American government would repudiate our possession of California, and order the squadron withdrawn. They now relinquish all idea of a return to their old political connection, and appear resigned to their fate, which seems inevitable. These disappointed families compose but a part of the population; another portion has become thoroughly wearied with revolutions, and are prepared to countenance almost any government that promises stability.