with alleviating their sufferings when
able, from their knowledge of medicine and surgery, and by moral
precepts, softening down as much as they could the fierce and
occasionally cruel tempers of this wild untutored race.

Among other advantages which the Shoshones derived from our
missionaries, was the introduction of vaccination. At first it was
received with great distrust, and indeed violently opposed, but the good
sense of the Indians ultimately prevailed: and I do not believe that
there is one of the Soshones born since the settlement was formed who
has not been vaccinated: the process was explained by the Padres Marini
and Polidori to the native medical men, and is now invariably
practised by them.

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. Dominicum. in Roma, A.D. 1800."

Then he had embraced a monastic life upon the death of one dear to
him--perhaps his first and only love. Poor man! many a time have I seen
the big burning tears rolling fast down his withered cheeks. But he is
gone, and his sorrows are at rest On the last page of the missal were
also two lines, written in a tremulous hand, probably a short time
previous to his death: "I, nunc anima anceps; sitque tibi Deus
mise