WEDNESDAY, JAN. 13. We have no intelligence, as yet, from the seat of war. The solicitude of the public to know the result is at the highest pitch. No one doubts that the issue has been very decisive. A report reached us to-day that the town of los Angeles had been taken by our troops, and that a large portion of the Californians had laid down their arms. This rumor comes through the washerwomen of this place. They get their intelligence from the Indians, who cross the streams in which they wash their clothes. Singular as this sort of mail may seem, it very often conveys news, not only with wonderful dispatch, but with extraordinary accuracy. The first capture of los Angeles, by Com. Stockton, was announced here by these washerwomen; they were also the first to spread the intelligence of the breaking out of the insurrection at the same place, and knew of the retreat of the Americans at San Pedro before any other class of people in Monterey. So much for a wash-tub mail. You may think lightly of it as of the soap-bubbles that break over its rim; but if you are wise you will heed its intelligence. It is an old mail that has long been run in California; and has announced more revolutions, plots, and counterplots, than there are mummies in Memphis. Who, in other lands, would dream of going to an old woman, washing her clothes in a mountain stream, for the first tidings of events in which the destinies of nations tremble? Mr. Morse need hardly come here with his magnetic machine. One of these women would snap the news from a napkin or shirt before his lightning-mail had got under way. THURSDAY, JAN. 14. The small party of Californians who recently took up arms on the bay of San Francisco, soon increased to two hundred. They were, with few exceptions, men of the better stamp—men who had a permanent interest in the soil, and who had refused to join the rash spirits at the south. They had captured Mr. Bartlett, the chief magistrate of the jurisdiction, and several other Americans, whom they held as hostages.